“I am going to show you a pair of leather gloves,” April said to Officer Dennehy. “Can you please identify these gloves for the record?”
“Yes. These are the gloves that I used for my forensic analysis of the recovered murder weapon.”
“You did the forensic analysis on this pair of gloves?”
“Yes.”
“Describe the forensic analysis that you conducted on these gloves.”
“I dusted the murder weapon for glove prints and found several. I then received this pair of gloves and I matched the grain that was on these gloves with the grain that I found on the recovered gun. The two prints were identical.”
“Was there anything else that led you to find that this pair of gloves match the glove print on the gun?”
“Yes. I found that the gloves are frayed and worn on certain areas.” Alan took the glove and held it up. “Right here, you can see a wear pattern, a place where the grains of the gloves are not as prominent as other areas of the glove. These wear patterns were identical to the areas of the gun that didn’t have prominent glove grain prints. From the grain patterns that I dusted and the wear patterns that I also dusted on the gun, my conclusion is that this pair of gloves were the same gloves that were used to fire the recovered murder weapon.”
I had to suppress a smile. This testimony was getting good.
“What the fuck,” Michael wrote on a piece of paper. “She obtained those gloves illegally. She had to have. You better call for a mistrial. I’m not going to fry because the prosecutor stole my gloves.”
“Relax,” I wrote back. “She got these gloves perfectly legally.”
I turned back and watched the rest of the testimony unfold.
“And were you able to trace these gloves to anybody in particular?”
“Yes.”
“And who did you trace the gloves to?”
“Mr. Michael Reynolds.”
I turned around and looked at the jury. They were mesmerized by this testimony, and, when Officer Dennehy stated that the gloves belonged to Michael, I saw them look stunned and I heard an audible gasp.
Michael heard it, too. “Do something,” he wrote on the pad of paper. “Do something or I will.”
I started to panic just a little. What did that mean, “do something or I will?” What did he plan on doing?
April was still questioning Officer Dennehy. “How did you trace these gloves to the defendant, Michael Reynolds?”
“By a DNA sample. When Mr. Reynolds was arrested, he gave a DNA sample. These gloves had leftover DNA inside of them. DNA can be left by sweat, and this was the source of the DNA that was found inside the gloves.”
“I see,” April said. “And did you do the DNA analysis?”
“I did.”
“And what qualifications do you possess which would enable you to perform a DNA analysis?”
“As I noted before, I received a bachelor of science in Biology and a master’s degree in criminal justice, plus I completed a 2-year apprenticeship with Officer Finney. I studied extensively about DNA analysis in obtaining my bachelor’s degree, my master’s degree and in my apprenticeship. Since I graduated from my apprenticeship in 2005, I’ve examined over 10,000 individual sources of DNA and have successfully matched 80% of these sources with a suspect.”
“And what about the 20% of the DNA sources that you haven’t been able to match?”
“I wasn’t able to match that extra 20% simply because I wasn’t able to obtain the proper suspect’s DNA. Those cases have gone cold.”
“And what is your expert opinion regarding the gloves that you hold in your hands, and the glove prints that were found on the gun?”
“My expert opinion is that these gloves,” he said, holding up the gloves, “are the same gloves that were used to fire the murder weapon, and that these gloves belonged to the defendant, Michael Reynolds.”
“And did you find any other DNA source on these gloves?”
“No.”
“Did you find any other fingerprints or glove prints on the murder weapon, besides these glove prints?”
“No.”
“I have nothing further.”
“You get out there,” Michael whispered. “You get out there and you hammer this guy. Ask him where he got those gloves, because I certainly didn’t supply them.”
“Ms. Ross,” Judge Graham said. “Your witness.”
I stood up. “I have no questions for this witness, your honor.”
At that, Michael stood up. “This is bullshit! This is bullshit! That prosecutor stole those gloves. She stole them. She can’t get away with this!”
While Michael was screaming obscenities and accusations, Judge Graham was banging her gavel, over and over again. “Mr. Reynolds, I will not tolerate outbursts in my courtroom. If you say one more word, I will have the bailiff remove you and you will not be allowed to participate in this trial anymore. Do you understand me, Mr. Reynolds?”
He sat back down and crossed his arms in front of him. I looked at him, and he was shaking his head, over and over again. “It’s over,” he wrote down on the sheet of paper. “I’m toast. And so are you. I’m going to have your Bar license when this is all said and done.”
“I’d like to see you try,” I whispered.
The rest of the trial was anti-climactic. After the testimony by Officer Dennehy, everything was downhill from there. April called Christina, Ava and Anita to testify. They all testified to the fights they witnessed between Michael and Judge Sanders, and they all testified to the fact that Michael was the only one who had decent access to Judge Sanders’ kitchen, because he refilled the pill boxes, so he was the most likely one to have poisoned Judge Sanders. They all testified that Michael had motive to kill Judge Sanders, because Judge Sanders was threatening to tell Christina about his affairs with multiple women, and Christina would have divorced Michael and left him penniless.
I half-heartedly cross-examined each of them, doing the bare minimum - just enough to keep me out of trouble, but not enough to make the witnesses look bad.
For Christina, I stood up and asked one question. “Ms. Sanders, you stated that only Michael had access to the Judge Sanders’ kitchen. But you never actually saw him put poison into the orange juice, did you?”
“No.”
“I have nothing further.”
For Ava, I went a tad further. “Mrs. Sanders, isn’t it true that Judge Sanders had a different family?”
“Yes.”
“And you wanted to divorce him?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod of her head.
“And if you divorced him, you would have to give him half of what you owned?”
“Yes.”
“Were you willing to give him half of what you owned?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Nothing further.”
As for Anita, I just didn’t ask her any cross-examination questions at all.
No matter. After the glove testimony, Michael knew that his goose was cooked. He looked defeated, and he no longer cared if I grilled the witnesses or not. He knew, as well as I did, that it was over.
The fat lady was warming up in the jury box.
And I couldn’t have been happier.
Finally, after three days of endless testimony, April and I were ready for our closing arguments.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” April began. “A lion of the judiciary was killed on October 19 of last year. He was a respected jurist, a good friend to many, an excellent father and grandfather. He never had an unkind word for anyone. And he was a social justice warrior. He always saw the little guy in his courtroom. He always made sure that the little guy was protected. He was a voice for the powerless. And now his voice is gone. His voice has been cruelly snuffed out in the worst possible way. No longer will the powerless and the meek have a chance to have Judge Robert Sanders as their voice. His voice was silenced on October 19.”
She paced back and forth, back a
nd forth, as she continued to address the jury. “You heard evidence in this courtroom that the defendant was eating a bucket of chicken, calmly waiting for the police to arrive, while his father-in-law’s body was lying in the kitchen. He didn’t care, that was clear - he cracked jokes. He got rid of the gun, but, nevertheless, that gun was recovered. You heard the testimony of witness after witness who stated that the defendant had unique access to the deceased, unique access to the orange juice of Judge Sanders, because he, and he alone, refilled Judge Sanders’ pills every week. Nobody else in the house had access to Judge Sanders’ kitchen. You heard evidence that Michael Reynolds had motive to kill his father-in-law, because Judge Sanders knew that Mr. Reynolds was having multiple affairs and Judge Sanders was threatening to tell his daughter Christina about these affairs. You heard evidence that Christina Sanders was independently wealthy, but that Michael Reynolds was independently penniless, and that Christina Sanders would have left Mr. Reynolds penniless in the event of a divorce.”
April came back over to her table, and then went back to the jury box. She had, in her hand, the pair of gloves. “So Mr. Reynolds had motive, means and opportunity. You heard evidence regarding all three of those elements. But the most important and damning piece of evidence was found in these gloves.”
She waved the gloves around, and showed them to each and every juror. “These gloves were worn when the judge was shot in his home. The glove prints left by these gloves were the only glove prints found on the murder weapon.”
She stood still in front of the jury, the gloves in her hands. “Let me repeat. There was one set of glove prints found on the murder weapon. One.” She held up her index finger for emphasis. “And the glove prints on the murder weapon matched the gloves worn by the Defendant. Michael Reynolds’ DNA, and only Michael Reynolds’ DNA, was found in these gloves. The inescapable conclusion was that only Michael Reynolds touched the murder weapon.”
She shrugged and smiled. “So, since only Michael Reynolds touched the murder weapon, there is only one person who could have killed Judge Sanders. And that’s Michael Reynolds. It’s really as simple as that. You can’t get closer to a smoking gun, folks.”
At that, she sat down.
“Ms. Ross,” Judge Graham said to me. “Please present your closing argument.”
I stood up, not wanting this charade to go on any longer, but not wanting to be too obvious about my intention. I was going to have to make a closing argument, but it was going to be short and sweet.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” I said, walking over to the jury box. “I do agree with the prosecutor that a lovely man is dead. I agree that Judge Sanders was a social justice warrior who really cared about the people hurt by large corporations and really did make sure that these people were taken care of. That’s indisputable. What is in dispute is whether my client, Michael Reynolds, poisoned Judge Sanders. Nobody ever saw him do this. There were no eyewitnesses. And Mr. Reynolds was far from the only individual who had a motive to kill Judge Sanders. You heard testimony that he started a different family with a different woman, while he was married to Ava Sanders. You heard testimony from Mrs. Sanders that she didn’t want to part with half her fortune in the event of a divorce. That gave Mrs. Sanders motive to kill Mr. Sanders, and it also gave Christina Sanders motive to kill Mr. Sanders, as she was interested in protecting her mother.”
I nodded and turned to sit down. “Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.”
I sat down and the judge banged her gavel. “Okay,” she said, “it is time of jury instructions. If you find, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the defendant, Michael Reynolds, is guilty of murder in the first degree, then you must make a finding of guilty. This finding of guilty must be unanimous, in that every single one of you must find the defendant guilty. The prosecutor has the burden of proof, so if you do not find, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the State has met its burden, then you must return a finding of Not Guilty.”
Judge Graham continued on. “You must find that the defendant met all the elements for first degree murder under the law. If I may reiterate these elements to you, they are that the defendant knowingly causes the death of another person after deliberation upon the matter. So, you have to find that Mr. Reynolds knew that he was causing the death of Judge Sanders. That’s the first element. The second element was that Mr. Reynolds actually did cause the death of Judge Sanders. And the third and final element is that Mr. Reynolds deliberated before killing Judge Sanders. If you find every one of these elements applied in this case, then you must find the defendant guilty of the crime of first degree murder.”
“And if you find that Mr. Reynolds knowingly caused the death of Judge Sanders, but that he did not deliberate before causing the death of Judge Sanders, then you shall find the defendant guilty of the lesser offense of second degree murder.”
“Thank you for your service, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. You may now begin your process of deliberation.”
At that, the jury filed out of the courtroom.
After they left, I got up to stretch my legs. I honestly thought that we would get a verdict sooner, as opposed to later.
I wandered around the halls of the courthouse, and my mind was filled with anxiety. This case was almost over. The smoking gun was the pair of gloves. Surely the jury was going to do the right thing.
Weren’t they?
What if they didn’t? What if they found Michael not guilty? Or what if they hung? What if I was forced to go through this Hell a second time? That would be a horrible scenario. I would almost want to see him acquitted then have to go through this again.
Almost.
Either scenario would be a nightmare, though. I prayed that they didn’t hang, and I really prayed that they didn’t acquit.
I went back into the courtroom where I saw Michael sitting at the table, just staring off into space. He looked defeated.
I didn’t go and sit next to him. He still made me want to vomit. Just being near him made my skin crawl.
He turned around when he saw me coming back into the courtroom. “I’m going to kill you,” he said calmly. “You supplied those gloves to the prosecutor. I remember now. I took those gloves off in your office and I never saw them again. I didn’t even think about them. I didn’t even notice I was missing them. But you must have sent them to the prosecutor. You stole them from me and then used them against me. I’m going to have your Bar license.”
I sat down next to him. “I got a discovery request from the prosecutor, asking me for those gloves. I supplied them pursuant to the discovery request. Nothing more, nothing less. If you try to bring a Bar Complaint against me, it will be your word against mine. I will tell the Bar that I obtained the gloves from you, with your knowledge, pursuant to the discovery request. At any rate, once I got that discovery request, I was obligated to give her what she asked for. Period.”
“How come I didn’t know about it?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think you needed to know.”
He shook his head. “You fucking bitch.”
I smiled and walked to the back of the courtroom and sat down. Hopefully, the jury would be in soon. I really wanted to get out of this place and, hopefully, celebrate.
Twenty minutes later, the jury came back in. I took my seat at the table and watched the jury come in, my heart in my throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?” Judge Graham asked the foreman, who was standing up.
“We have, your honor.”
“On the count of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”
“Your honor, we find the defendant guilty.”
“Is this the unanimous decision of the jury?”
“It is.”
“You are excused,” Judge Graham said. “But I would like to thank all of you for your service and sacrifice. The right to be heard in front of a jury of one’s peers is one of the most important Consti
tutional rights that all of us enjoy, and you are integral in ensuring that this right is preserved.”
At that, the jury filed out and the bailiff came over to Michael and put the handcuffs on him.
As Michael was led away, he looked back at me. “You’re a dead woman,” he said, his eyes dead.
“Yes, but I’m free.” I nodded my head and tried to suppress a smile. “Unlike you,” I said under my breath.
As I gathered my files and put them into my briefcase, I realized something.
I truly was free.
For the first time in 17 years, I was free.
Thirty-Four
Three Weeks Later
“Mom, come and see,” Abby said excitedly.
I was finally Abby and Rina’s mom. The adoption was formalized the day before, and, over our celebratory dinner at the Red Lobster the night before, I informed them that they were to call me “mom” from here on out.
The girls were more than excited about this. “Mom, mom, mom, mom,” Rina said with a giggle. “I like that sound.”
“And so do I, Ladybug. So do I.”
That wasn’t the only thing that had happened, of course. As soon as Michael was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole, I went to work to make sure that Gerald and Kayla were also on the hook. So, I called the police and gave them an anonymous tip about Gerald and Kayla.
My thought was that Kayla was going to quickly roll on Gerald, and I was right. I had been following, on the news, the developments of this case, and, sure enough, Kayla was quickly arrested. I knew that it was only a matter of time before Gerald was, as well.
“What is is, Buttercup?” I asked Abby when I came into the living room.
“They’re talking about that Judge Sanders case,” she said. “On the news. Look!”
She pointed at the television screen, where I saw Gerald doing the perp walk out of his office building. The news reporter solemnly informed the television viewing audience that “Gerald Stone was arrested today for his part in the murder of Judge Robert Sanders last October. Michael Reynolds, Judge Sanders son-in-law, has already been tried and convicted for this murder, and Kayla Stone, Gerald Stone’s estranged wife, is currently in custody for her role in the judge’s murder. Mr. Stone’s arraignment for the murder is scheduled for tomorrow. In other developments in this wild murder case, Judge Manuel Perez, who is currently a District Court judge for the Western District of Missouri, also was arrested for his part in the murder of Judge Robert Sanders.” The newslady shook her head “These developments certainly are dramatic. Watch this space for additional details on this wild and wooly case. Back to you.”
Justice Denied - A Harper Ross Legal Thriller Page 29