Putting the legal pad down on the defense table, Mendelbaum leaned against the table as if tired and crossed his arms. “So Mrs. Stone, you’ve heard all of this testimony about this conspiracy to murder Rose Lubinsky, these meetings and the flurry of emails. Is any of it true?”
“Not like it’s been portrayed,” Stone answered. “At least not from my perspective. For instance, the meeting at my office after hours with Monroe and Gallo did take place.”
“And was Henry Burns, also known as Yusef Salaam, present?”
“Yes, and he arrived first. But I didn’t invite him.”
“Who did?”
“Tommy Monroe,” Stone replied. “By this time, Henry knew who ‘buttered his bread,’ which as Gallo testified is one of Monroe’s sayings.”
“And what was the purpose of the meeting?”
“Well, it wasn’t the way Mr. Karp is trying to portray it,” Stone said. “It’s true that we were talking about ways we might be able to get Rose Lubinsky to compromise about the bill, or at least delay its passage.”
“Did that include a discussion about blackmailing her?”
Stone pursed her lips, then shrugged. “I admit that it might have seemed that way to Micah Gallo; Monroe was being pretty insistent on finding a way to stop her ‘or else.’ But my impression was that we were talking about finding a way to discredit her politically, as well as increasing our lobbying efforts. It wasn’t like the charter school bill’s passage was a done deal. The voting would have been close and it would have only taken a few votes.”
“What about the notion that a decision was made at the meeting to ‘remove’ Rose Lubinsky by killing her?”
Stone scoffed. “Over a state assembly bill vote that wasn’t even a sure thing? Yes, we were worried about the audit. But even if the charter school bill passed, we could have held it up with legal appeals; at least long enough to cover our trail. And to think that I’d condone resorting to murder is ludicrous.”
“But what about the emails Yusef Salaam—Henry Burns—and the IP addresses we’ve heard so much about?” Mendelbaum asked.
“Just more of Monroe’s cleverness,” Stone said. “He thought that no one would ever look at my emails and my phone calls. So he insisted that I be the go-between whenever he wanted to set up a meeting with Henry. So he’d call me to set the time and place, then I’d email the information to Henry. But that’s it. What they talked about or did at their meetings, I wasn’t there.”
“What were you doing on the night Rose Lubinsky was murdered?”
Stone acted as if the question caught her off guard and in a vulnerable state. Her eyes welled with tears and she struggled to speak. “I was having dinner with my husband . . . my ex-husband since all of this,” she said, waving her hand at Karp. She stopped talking and it was a minute before she could go on. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I made my bed and have to lie in it, but I lost the most important person in my life, as well as all of my hopes and dreams. It doesn’t help to know it was my own fault.”
“Did anyone—Monroe—tell you to make sure you had an alibi at eight p.m.?”
“No, that was apparently something Monroe worked out with Gallo. I didn’t know anything was going to happen.”
“What was your reaction when you heard about the bombing?”
“Shock.”
“How did you hear about it?”
“When I got home from dinner it was on the news.”
“What was the first thing that came to your mind?”
“Well, they were saying on the television that there’d been a neo-Nazi demonstration and that one of them had been arrested,” Stone said. “I thought that was connected to the bombing. In no way did I think even Monroe would arrange for something like that.”
“Mrs. Stone, did you know Lars Forsling, or was he ever a former client or someone you prosecuted?”
“No, not to my knowledge.”
“Did Monroe or Gallo ever mention him by name?”
“No, I don’t remember ever hearing his name until I learned he was a suspect in Lubinsky’s murder and was then killed by Mr. Karp’s wife,” Stone said pointedly. “However, Tommy Monroe kept a lot of strange bedfellows beyond just Henry Burns.”
Mendelbaum walked over to the defense table and dropped the legal pad. Slowly he strolled back over to the jury box, leaned against the rail, and paused as if he was troubled by his next question. “Mrs. Stone, I don’t mean to be indelicate but I have to ask you potentially embarrassing questions about your relationship with Henry Burns.”
Stone blushed but nodded. “I understand.”
“Mrs. Stone, it has been insinuated that you were engaged in an extramarital sexual affair with Mr. Burns. Is it true?”
Stone covered her mouth with her hand and looked past him at the jurors. “I never . . . I mean, I couldn’t.” She stopped and caught her breath. “Since he was fourteen years old, I’ve been one of the only people who cared about him; I was able to look past his physical disfigurement, if that’s what you want to call it. To be honest, I’ve cringed every time one of the prosecution witnesses referred to him as a ‘freak’ just because that’s something that made him what he was in the end. But that’s neither here nor there. Did I have an affair with him? Absolutely not. I was a friend and a mentor, nothing more. Even at that, the more he fell under Monroe’s guidance, my influence grew less and less until basically I was just a conduit between the two of them. A messenger.”
“But what about this mysterious woman who would meet him at the Seahorse Motel?”
Stone looked angry. “I have no idea who she is, but it wasn’t me. To be honest, I think it was a setup to get to me. I’m not saying who was behind it, whether it was Monroe or . . .” She looked again at Karp. “. . . someone who had an issue with me as the district attorney of Kings County, or as an opponent of the charter school bill. But isn’t it funny how the motel owner looked right at me here in court and didn’t identify me as the mystery woman?”
“So you did not have a sexual relationship with Henry Burns, aka Yusef Salaam?”
“I did not. I never cheated on my husband with him or anybody else.”
“Mrs. Stone, you’ve admitted here to having committed grand larceny, a serious felony, as well as official malfeasance, both of which are punishable by substantial time in prison. You’re aware of that?”
“Yes, I’m guilty of those crimes and know I’ll have to pay for them.”
“Did you also in concert conspire, direct, or have anything to do with the actions that claimed the lives of Mrs. Lubinsky, Mary Calebras, and Tawanna Mohammad?”
“Mr. Mendelbaum,” Stone said, “I am deeply ashamed of what I’ve done. I am a thief, and I brought dishonor to the position of district attorney of Kings County. But I am not a murderer!” She then burst into tears.
Mendelbaum nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Stone. Your honor, I have no more questions at this time.”
Rainsford looked at Karp. “Do you intend to cross-examine the witness?”
“Absolutely,” Karp said, rising to his feet. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked over to the jury box as if deep in thought. Then he looked over at Stone. “Who are the tears for, Mrs. Stone, the deceaseds or yourself?”
Stone looked up but didn’t answer, so he went on. “Mrs. Stone, do you believe in free will?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve painted yourself as this poor creature who had no will of her own to say no when the big bad wolf Tommy Monroe began plying you with ill-gotten gains. Were you unable to say no?”
“I was young and like I said I had these loans . . .”
“Like a million other kids in this country, but they don’t steal, or abuse power, or murder people to pay them off and make a nice life for themselves.”
“I didn’t murder anybody.”
“Didn’t you testify that you believed that if you became the district attorney of Kings County, you’d be able to pull
away from the evil clutches of Tommy Monroe? That you’d be the one with the power, and the full weight of the law, on your side,” Karp said, “and that you’d be able to then right these wrongs you’d been involved in? How did that work for you?”
“I said, I took the money,” Stone snapped.
“Yes. I believe you said that you didn’t think anybody would be hurt with a little skimming off the top. So exactly what do you consider ‘skimming a little off the top’? The mansion in Long Beach you purchased for three point five million?”
“It’s more than a little.”
“Indeed, and what about the property in Key West, which according to the last tax assessment was worth about two million?”
Stone just sat without speaking.
“More than a little? What about the beachfront home in Grand Cayman, or the bank accounts. It all adds up to another five or six million. Right?”
“Yes. Like I said, I’m not denying that I stole the money.”
“No, not now you’re not,” Karp said. “Now you’re hoping that admitting to a lesser crime will get you off the hook for murder. But until about an hour ago, you’d been telling the press, these jurors, and anybody else who’d listen that you were completely innocent of all of these crimes. So why should you be believed now?”
“Because now I’m telling the truth?”
“Really? And do you have any evidence to back you up?”
“I think the evidence can be interpreted in more than one way.”
“Well, even the defense computer expert said that’s not very probable. In fact, it was just a theory without any evidence.”
Again Stone was silent, so Karp continued. “You know what I believe, Mrs. Stone?”
“Yes, that I’m involved in the murder.”
“That’s right. I think all of the evidence, the real evidence, says just that, and the only reason you’re on the witness stand today is because you’ve decided that some time in prison is better than spending the rest of your life in prison, isn’t that true?”
“No. I’ve told you what the truth is.”
“Really? The whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Stone, one of those ‘truths’ is that you deny having a sexual relationship with Yusef Salaam, and that your only contact with him was as the messenger between him and Monroe?”
“That’s right.”
“And is that as true as the rest of your testimony?”
“Definitely!”
Karp walked over to the prosecution table and picked up two photographs. “Mrs. Stone, do you have any tattoos on your body?”
Judge Rainsford looked at Karp and raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Karp, where are you going with this inquiry?”
“Your honor, I’m laying the foundation to impeach this witness,” he said, pleased to see Stone blanch.
“Then proceed.”
Karp stalked up to the witness stand and handed Stone one of the photographs. “I’m handing you People’s Exhibit 33 to ask if you can identify the person in the photograph and where it was taken.”
Stone frowned. “This is a photograph of me in the Cayman Islands a year ago with my husband. Where did you get it?”
Karp shrugged. “We found it on your Facebook page. The photograph shows you in a bikini, does it not?”
“It does.”
“And is that a tattoo above your left breast?”
“Yes.”
“What does it depict?”
“It’s a mermaid.”
“Thank you,” Karp said. He held up his hand for the photograph and then handed her the other. “I’m now handing you People’s Exhibit 34. For the record, your honor, this photo was taken from the computer of Yusef Salaam, and will be so authenticated by ADA V. T. Newbury in the People’s rebuttal case if necessary. Mrs. Stone, would you describe what the photograph depicts for the jurors, please?”
Stone sat staring at the photograph. She didn’t look up or speak.
“Mrs. Stone, I asked you to describe the photograph.”
Instead, she shook her head. “No. I won’t.”
“No?” Karp asked. “This wasn’t a yes or no answer. I asked you to describe what you see in the photograph.”
Stone crumpled the photograph and flung it at the floor. She then sat glaring at Karp.
“Mrs. Stone,” Judge Rainsford said. “You are under cross-examination and are required to answer Mr. Karp’s questions. If you do not, your entire testimony may be stricken.”
Stone sat mute. Finally she said, “I’m not mentally able to respond to that question or subject matter, your honor.”
“Very well then, your honor,” Karp said, bending over to pick the photograph up off the floor. “I’d like to show the blowup of the photo exhibit to the jury and describe it for the record.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Karp.”
Starting at one end of the jury box, Karp strolled along the rail holding the photograph up so that they could see it. Some looked away after a glance, others continued to watch in fascination. “The photograph is of a nude blond woman lying in what appears to be a motel room bed. If you look closely you can see an ashtray on the nightstand with the words ‘Seahorse Motel’ on it; there’s also a pair of sunglasses on the stand and what appears to be a brunette wig. The woman’s hands and wrists are bound above her head; her legs are spread-eagled and also bound to the bottom corners of the bed. Her head is turned away from the camera, but you can see she is wearing a blindfold over her eyes; she appears to be completely at rest. But you can clearly see the image of a tattoo above her left breast.”
Karp stopped walking and turned toward Stone, holding up the photograph as he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you will be able to view this photograph yourselves again during your deliberations. At that time, I think you’ll be able to see for yourselves the tattoo of a mermaid above the left breast of the defendant, which you can then compare to the photograph the defendant identified herself in.”
Looking at the witness, Karp said, “Mrs. Stone, I’m going to ask you again. Have you told us the whole truth today?”
Stone’s lips pulled back as she snarled, “Go fuck yourself, Karp.”
Judge Rainsford snapped, “Mrs. Stone, you’re under oath in this courtroom and you will comport yourself with the dignity and respect it deserves.”
Walking over to the prosecution table, Karp picked up a bag and returned to the witness stand. “Your honor, if you’d please direct the defendant to put these on for the purpose of engaging in an in-court identification,” he said, and pulled out a brunette wig and sunglasses.
The final door of the trap was slamming shut. The day before when he met with FBI Special Agent Shannon Fitzgerald, Vincent Newbury, and Islay Kennedy in the meeting room adjacent to his office, the FBI agent had asked him if he wanted to watch while she added the “variables” to something she’d been working on with the motel owner. That something was a computer-assisted “sketch” of the mystery woman Islay Kennedy had seen with Yusef Salaam.
Fitzgerald was considered the best in the business when it came to computer-assisted forensic modeling. Her specialty was creating three-dimensional, lifelike images of people, particularly suspects, as well as missing persons.
Starting with a witness’s basic description—man/woman, heavyset/thin, dark-complected/light—she’d step by step add physical characteristics, including racial distinctions, the contour of the head, the size of the nose, the shape of the eyes and lips, the eyebrows and facial hair. Her computer held thousands of variations of faces that she could call up with a few clicks of the mouse.
She was such a technological whiz that Newbury was in awe, but what made her “the best” was the way she could pull information out of witnesses that they might not have even remembered at first. Kennedy’s “amazing” assessment of the job she’d done creating a computer sketch of the mystery woman was par for the course.
However, she wasn’t
done. The variables she’d mentioned that morning in the DA’s meeting room had been to add a wig and sunglasses to the image. Once again, she’d reached into her computer’s files to locate short brunette wigs until Kennedy found the one he said was a perfect match. She’d then called up sunglasses—narrowing the choices to those similar to the description provided by Kennedy until, again, he spotted a pair he thought were the same the woman had worn.
She’d then applied them to the sketch and stood back smiling as Kennedy’s jaw dropped. “That’s her,” he whispered. “That’s the woman.”
“Mrs. Stone, I’m ordering you to place the wig and sunglasses on your head,” Rainsford said. “If you won’t do it voluntarily, I’ll ask court security to do it for you.”
Stone’s face contorted with rage, but she grabbed the wig and pulled it down onto her head, then shoved the glasses onto her face. “There,” she snarled at Karp. “Are you happy?”
“Almost,” said Karp, turning to Fulton, who was standing at the back of the courtroom. The detective pulled open one of the doors and nodded to someone standing outside. He then stepped back as Islay Kennedy entered and began walking down the aisle. However, the Irishman didn’t get far before he looked at the witness stand and stopped.
“It’s her,” he shouted. “That’s the woman! She’s the one who came to my motel.”
Karp raised his eyebrows as he turned back to Stone. “So, Mrs. Stone, are you sure you’ve been telling us the whole truth, as you have so self-righteously testified?”
Stone’s face had turned white. Her jaw clenched as she stared at him full of anger and hatred. “I’m not answering any more questions, you chauvinist bastard.”
Karp nodded and looked at Rainsford. “Your honor, you heard the lady, no further questions.”
EPILOGUE
THERE WAS A MOMENT OF silence when the last notes of “Va, pensiero” faded into the recesses of the synagogue. Then the congregation was on its feet, clapping and voicing their appreciation for Giancarlo’s contribution to the bar mitzvah ceremony.
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