by Fred Rosen
“Were these other people real or a fantasy?”
There was a long pause.
She’s pausing while she makes up her story, Michaud thought.
“I told the EPD about other people who had conflict with Aaron. I tried to get more information about the gun. EPD said it was a small caliber. I was trying to decide if Jim and Joe really did it. Beau was at MacLaren. I thought maybe some other kids that were having trouble with Aaron earlier in the week did it.”
“Ever go to the police?”
“I went to the police and told them what I knew about Aaron Iturra. For three days I tried to put pieces together.”
Michaud could see it now. A new TV series—‘Mary Thompson, Private Eye.”
“I wanted to make sure Beau was safe,” said the concerned mother. “Angel came over and showed me the baby, and I asked her if she knew and she said Jim did it. I called Ric Raynor and left a message. He was at MacLaren talking to Beau and I wasn’t comfortable talking to any other officers. I had a responsibility to tell what I knew. John and I went to look at puppies. Then I went to get Raynor.”
And Mary related how she met Raynor, her friendly cop, and subsequently gave her statement to police.
“After Aaron Iturra’s death …” Chez began to fumble, forgetting Joe’s name. Collecting himself, he continued, “Did you have any communication with Joe?”
“Yes, I had daily conversations with Joe.”
I’ll bet that’s not all!
“Did you discuss the murder?”
“Joe did. He got angry and said I wouldn’t believe him anyway. I tried to get Joe to go to the police. Asked him to talk to Raynor, but he refused.”
“Any communication with Jim?”
“He called Monday about Angel’s baby. I asked him if Aaron Iturra was in the hospital dying and he said he wasn’t aware of it. I asked if he shot Aaron and he said he wouldn’t talk on the phone.”
“Any further communication with EPD after the sixth?”
She had called Raynor in November. Seemed that someone was harassing her, through phone calls and letters mailed to her house.
“Anyone question you about your involvement in the murder?”
“Raynor, at my house.”
“Did you know that you were a focal point of the investigation?”
“I thought that I had hindered it because I waited so long to tell the police what I knew. I became aware on October seventh that I was a suspect. I retained legal counsel.”
“And was that me?”
“Yes, you advised me to keep in contact with the kids, but not to talk to EPD, except to tell them about the harassing notes.”
So, now, Mary the stoolie was back. Only this time, she was willing to rat on kids to save her own behind.
“Did your attitude towards EPD change?”
“Yes, it changed drastically after Beau’s arrest. The investigation was biased.”
Then Mary related her version of the chase.
“On the seventeeth, Beau went to get the gun away from Lisa. He felt she might use the gun on herself or someone else.” So Beau was trying to prevent a suicide attempt, rather than use the gun for criminal purposes. “Lisa wanted a claim to fame. She changed daily. She wanted to shoot someone, deal drugs. Commit suicide. I don’t care for that attitude.”
“Did you know the Suburban was stolen?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know?”
“Sam Warthan showed up in it. I asked where they got it and he said his uncle who worked at the DMV. Beau told me it was stolen and they had switched the plates. They were using the Suburban to get a gun. My Volkswagen wouldn’t start.”
“Did you attend a jumping in?”
“No.”
Liar.
“Did you pick up Lisa at home on the twenty-fifth,” and take her to the gang induction ceremony at the park?
“No.”
Liar.
“Take the kids in John’s truck?”
“No.”
Liar.
“Give the kids bandannas?”
“No.”
Liar.
“When you went to the police on October sixth, what did you feel your responsibility for Aaron Iturra’s death was based on?”
“I hadn’t paid enough attention to what the kids were saying or doing. If I had, he wouldn’t have died,” Mary said, and started crying.
Scripted tears, spare me!
“How did you feel?”
“I felt terrible.” Mary continued to cry.
“Why don’t we take a recess,” Judge Velure broke in, “so the witness can collect herself?”
After the recess, Mary took the stand again, looking more composed.
“On October sixth, you told your concerns to the EPD?”
“Yes.”
“What were your feelings for Aaron Iturra at the time of his death?”
“I was still a little bit angry. I thought about calling him after Lars died. I was resolved to being over the anger and hurt.”
It was interesting. Mary used popular therapeutic terms like “issues” and “resolution,” and yet, of anyone in that courtroom, she probably had more unresolved “issues” and less “resolution” in her life than anyone else.
“Did you intend anything you said to hurt Aaron Iturra?”
“No!”
Liar.
“Encourage others to hurt Aaron Iturra?”
“No.”
Liar.
“Encourage others to beat up Aaron Iturra?”
“No.”
Liar.
“Encourage others to kill Aaron Iturra?”
“No,” Mary answered, and again began to cry.
Scripted! Liar!
“Are you glad they killed Aaron Iturra?”
“No.”
She neglected to point out that with Aaron dead, there was no one to testify against Beau, and that Beau had been released right after the boy was murdered.
“Can anything you said be interpreted to mean ‘Go kill Aaron Iturra’?”
“No.”
Liar.
Mary continued to cry. Wouldn’t want to break the momentum!
Chez turned to Skelton. “Your witness.” Skelton got up to do the cross.
Skelton had been looking forward to this moment since the trial began. In most murder cases, the defendant doesn’t take the stand because they become too vulnerable. But Mary had, and now it was the people’s turn.
Unlike “Matlock,” defendants rarely, if ever, confess on the stand. In fact, as soon as one did confess, the judge would stop the proceedings to give the defendant her rights and advise her against saying anything more until she consulted with counsel. In other words, the judge would make sure the defendant kept her mouth shut.
The reality was that, to impeach the testimony of a witness, you had to trip them up in their own lies, show them to be a liar, all in front of a jury. It was no mean task, especially with a system-savvy defendant like Mary.
Go get her Steve!
“Did you ask Sam to take the fall for the theft of the Suburban?” Skelton began.
Mary said that she believed Sam was responsible for the theft of the Suburban, and she was worried that Sam was gonna “snitch.”
“Are you denying your son did the stabbing at the Grocery Cart?”
“Beau never admitted that,” she answered cagily.
“You had the police report and the list of witnesses, right?”
“A partial list.”
“You knew Larry was there?”
“Larry told me.”
“When?”
“Right after Beau was arrested.”
“You were concerned about Beau’s participation?”
Mary’s number-one concern, she said, was getting the truth out, that Beau had had nothing to do with the Grocery Cart stabbing, that it was all Aaron’s fault. She was desperate to get this message out, because “Beau had several charges pending,�
� and would go back to jail if convicted of the stabbing. But Mary’s mission was repeatedly forestalled. She kept asking Larry Martin to go forward with the truth, and he kept refusing.
“Even though Larry wasn’t even there?”
“Yes, he was a gang member.”
“Did you finally persuade him?”
“He decided on his own.”
Yeah, right.
“While Lisa was [at your house] did you make derogatory statements about Aaron Iturra?”
“Yes, Lisa and Joe did. There was name-calling.”
“Such as?”
“Asshole, f—er, punk, mark.”
“Did you make the statement ‘Snitches get killed’?”
“Not in front of Lisa.”
“To anyone?”
“Didn’t Detective Rainey say that?”
“I’m asking the questions here! Are you saying that you never said that?”
“I don’t remember telling Detective Rainey that he was a snitch.” She did say that Aaron had lied in his statement to police.
“The question was, did you say ‘Snitches get killed’?”
Mary sat on the witness stand as though she had wax in her ears. She just refused to answer.
“You aren’t gonna answer the question?”
“I remember Detective Rainey said, ‘Snitches get killed’” she finally answered.
“Did you ever say anything to Lisa that would make her conclude that you had made that statement?” Skelton asked, getting disgusted.
Mary muttered something. She was obviously stalling for time. But time had run out.
“Would the court make her answer?”
“No,” Mary answered finally.
“If you didn’t say anything, then why the statement during one phone call, ‘If you don’t tell, I won’t tell’?”
“On the phone, Lisa said that. Lisa said some things after Aaron Iturra’s death and the statement pertained to that.”
End of the day, the saga continues tomorrow, stay tuned for more riveting action.
FIFTEEN
JULY 12
Jim “Mr. Blackwell” Michaud noted that, for the third day in a row, Mary wore the same blue outfit. Her gang color admittedly, but couldn’t she at least buy a new dress?
During the night, Skelton had carefully gone over his cross examination. For his part, he was determined to show Mary up as a liar on the stand.
“Well, Mrs. Thompson, you’ve had overnight to think about it. Regarding any conduct that you may have had with Lisa Fentress that was incriminating against Aaron Iturra, did you come up with anything else?” Skelton began.
“No,” Mary replied.
“Your October sixth statements to the police were complete disclosure, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Open the tape transcript to Number six-fifty, January twentieth. You are talking to Lisa about a police proposal that she take a polygraph. You say you don’t think Lisa could answer any questions about you or she would fail. Why worry about it if you gave complete disclosure on October sixth?”
“We had talked since then and I believed her. I felt it incriminated me for not telling the police.”
“Oh, you’d talked since then. So how would that incriminate you?”
“Because I didn’t tell the police about her meetings with Wayde, Jim, Joe to do things to Aaron.”
“Why does that incriminate you?”
“Because I didn’t tell. I had forgotten about her, I didn’t know her involvement.”
“How could you be hurt if Lisa had immunity?”
“We weren’t talking about immunity, we were talking about the polygraph.”
“She passed the polygraph because she told the truth about you.”
“She didn’t tell the truth.”
“Linda was only at your house a few times?” said Skelton, changing the subject to Linda Miller.
“The Friday prior to the death.”
“What activities were incriminating towards Linda?”
“None.”
Skelton went back to the prosecution table and, with a flourish, picked up the notebook that contained the wiretaps. It had already been marked off to a pre-assigned page.
“I call your attention to call Number six-forty-one, regarding the conversation between you and Linda. Wayde was called a snitch and you told her, ‘I kept you out of it.’ What did that mean?”
“I said I didn’t hear her, not that she wasn’t a part of it, so I kept her out of it.”
“In your EPD statement to Rainey, you admit to calling Aaron Iturra names?”
“Yes.”
Skelton flipped pages.
“Page three-forty-seven of the transcript.”
Mary eyed him intently. What kind of trap was he setting?
“What do you mean when you say, ‘I have to watch what I say, due to Crip nation. I am concerned for my son’s safety and my husband’s safety’?”
“They are all up and down the West Coast. Sonny from Portland was here, also TJ and Snoop.”
“And they had some responsibility for Aaron’s death?”
“They could have.”
“You knew Jim and Joe were convicted already and you still believed Portland was responsible?”
“In an indirect way. Jim and Joe did it to get the proper respect from Portland.”
“From people that don’t exist?”
“They do exist.”
“How would you incriminate Portland?”
“By talking in court like I am now.”
“They monitored your calls?” Skelton asked sarcastically.
“No, they read the papers.”
“Why worry if you have no gang connection?”
“I’m connected through my son.”
“Wasn’t your son in MacLaren at the time?”
“Yes.”
Skelton then reviewed the history of the Aaron Iturra/ Beau Flynn friendship, leading up to the incident at the Grocery Cart.
“If Aaron and Beau were friends, why retaliate, why not let Aaron Iturra tell the truth at Grand Jury about what really happened?”
“I hoped he would.”
“Your reaction was to get angry, et cetera.”
“Yes.”
“In fact, he was gonna tell the truth about Beau and you wanted to eliminate him as a witness, isn’t that true?”
“Objection! Argumentative,” Chez yelled.
“Objection sustained,” said the judge.
But Skelton had gotten the question in, directly implicating Mary in the plot to kill Aaron and the jury was not going to forget that.
“What negative things did you say to Wayde about Aaron Iturra?”
“I called him names, said ‘I wish he were dead,’ said ‘I can’t believe he hurt me,’ said ‘He couldn’t testify.’”
“When did you say those things?”
“After Aaron and Beau were arrested, the next day.”
But she later changed, realizing that her remarks could be misinterpreted when taken out of context, and told Wayde, “I said leave Aaron Iturra alone.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t remember anything. I may have called him a ‘buster.’”
“What was the context of the remark, ‘Leave Aaron Iturra alone?’”
“They were talking about beating him up.”
“The last message from you to Wayde was ‘Leave Aaron Iturra alone’?”
“Yes.”
“Did Wayde make negative statements against Aaron Iturra?”
“I don’t recall any statements Wayde made. I don’t believe he would have.”
“Wayde was a Seventy-four Crip?”
“I was told some of them had become Seventy-four Crips.”
Calling on Mary’s expertise, Skelton asked how many Seventy-four Crip sets there were in Eugene. Mary answered, “One that Beau formed in Eugene,” and that “there were other members in it.”
“Who?”
Mary thought for a few moments. “Doug Edwards.”
Mary wouldn’t respond further to the question. She seemed conflicted.
“Your Honor,” Mary asked politely, “can I speak to my attorney?”
“No,” the judge came back hard, “answer the question.”
“Fred Johnson, Jace Turner, Lyle Bolander and Ted Carington and some I know by their gang names only.”
“In your statement to police, you denied knowing anything [about a gang] or guys you thought were just wannabes. That’s not true, huh? There were actually members of the set?”
“Yes.”
“Now, Jim Elstad called and said he swore on his ’hood to kill Aaron Iturra. Did you take it seriously?”
“I didn’t believe him.”
“Would you take someone else seriously?”
“I took Beau seriously.”
“If these were members of Beau’s gang, why not take them seriously? What makes it serious?”
“The person saying it.”
“On October third, if you didn’t think Jim and Joe were serious, even though they came to your house after killing a boy, what harm was there in telling the police?”
Mary began to hedge and talk in circles.
“Would the court please instruct her to answer?”
“Mr. Skelton, please read the question again,” the judge ordered.
Skelton repeated his question.
“It would cause great harm to tell the police the truth. I was concerned for my son.”
“What harm could come to Beau in MacLaren if you told the truth?”
“I was trying to protect Beau.”
“From what?”
“Maybe Beau had told Jim and Joe to do it.”
“Did you intend to lie to EPD when you told them Jim and Joe did it?”
“I didn’t believe it.”
“Was the other part of the statement a lie too?”
“I diverted the police, but it was not intentional,” Mary said.
Michaud noticed that for the first time, Mary didn’t sound so confident. Her con was unraveling in front of her like a loose ball of thread. She had no place to turn but to, ironically, the truth.
“If you didn’t believe Jim and Joe did it, then why drive to the river?”
“He didn’t take the bullets out in my truck.”
“Did you tell him to throw it in the river?”
“I said to go do it,” Mary admitted.
That was something she hadn’t said before. Now, she’s implicated herself consciously in the conspiracy, Michaud thought.