The Jury

by Steve Martini

  “Can you explain for the jury?” asks Tannery.

  De Angelo turns toward the box. “There were two murders almost three years ago now. The bodies of two women were dumped in the harbor. We found the torsos with the heads attached. Arms and legs had been cut off. It was in all the papers. Those cases got a lot of publicity because it looked like a serial murder. Papers always pick up on that,” he says.

  “Unfortunately, sometimes it becomes an invitation for somebody who’s looking for an opportunity. You get a person, wants to kill his wife, or his girlfriend. He sees the article. So he tries to make it look like the same M.O. They copycat it. Usually they don’t succeed.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Little details,” says de Angelo. “Things we never disclose to the media. For example, in this case, the earlier jigsaws, out in the harbor. They were in fact done with saws. Bones cut right through like a butcher would do it with a saw. We found tool marks from the teeth of a saw blade. Probably a hacksaw. But that wasn’t done in this case.”

  “You’re talking about Kalista Jordan?”

  “Right. Here, the amputation of the arms and legs was done clean, at the joints. Somebody knew right where to go, and they used a sharp instrument to get all the ligaments and tendons.”

  “And this clean amputation, at the joints, is what causes you to believe that the killer possibly had medical training?”

  “Correct.”

  “Therefore, you don’t believe these earlier cases are related?” Tannery is driving a wedge, anticipating that we may try to defend using the age-old SODDI, Some Other Dude Did It, in this case some crazed serial killer. If we could produce an alibi for Crone in the earlier cases, this would present complications for the state.

  “No. But we think that’s why the killer left the head attached. Because it was reported in the press in the earlier two cases. It was also reported that the arms and legs were not attached to the bodies, but there was no report as to how this was done. The killer screwed up,” says de Angelo. “And it wasn’t the only mistake they made.”

  “What else?”

  “We don’t want to get into too many details. The other two murders are still open.”

  “Unsolved?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But there are other discrepancies?”

  “One in particular,” says de Angelo. “The use of cable ties around the victim’s throat. It was reported in the earlier cases that the victims were strangled with a nylon ligature and that a similar nylon tie was probably used to bind the hands and feet. In those cases, we found a set of arms and hands. They floated up on the beach. These were tied together at the wrist. The item used to tie these was referred to as, and I quote, ‘a nylon tie,’ in one of the local papers. Actually it was a piece of nylon rope. The paper was using the word tie in the general sense,” he says. “We didn’t correct it because we didn’t want to get into the details. We think that whoever killed Kalista Jordan read that newspaper article and assumed that a nylon cable tie was used.”

  “In other words, they tried to copycat and got it wrong?” says Tannery.

  “That appears to be the case.”

  “Let’s talk about the cable tie, the one found around Dr. Jordan’s neck. Did you have an opportunity to examine that cable tie?”

  “I did.”

  “Was it still affixed to the body when you first observed it?”

  “It was.”

  “Did you remove it?”

  “No. The coroner, at the time of the autopsy, removed it.”

  “Was there anything unique about this particular cable tie?”

  “It was an industrial tie, if that’s what you mean. It was heavy-duty. Used for bundling things together. Almost anything,” he says. “Old newspapers. Stacks of rags. Industry uses them a lot. Electricians would use these particular ones for bundling heavy loads of wire before they run ’em into a chase on large jobs. As I recall, that particular tie had a high tensile strength. Two hundred or two hundred and fifty pounds.”

  “I believe Dr. Schwimmer said it was two hundred and fifty pounds.”

  “Then that would be right.”

  “So this was not something that the average consumer could find in your ordinary hardware store. Is that what you’re telling us?”

  “That’s right. You’d probably have to order it from an industrial supply house.”

  “Do you know where this particular cable tie was purchased? The one found around the neck of Kalista Jordan?”

  “No.”

  “Were there any other similar cable ties found on the victim’s body?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have occasion to find other similar cable ties during the course of your investigation in this case?”

  “I did.”

  “And where did you find these?

  “I found two other cable ties. The same length, and width. In fact, after examining them we determined that these two ties appeared to be identical in all respects to the cable tie found around the neck of the victim, Kalista Jordan. We found these in the pocket of a sport coat belonging to the defendant, Dr. David Crone.”

  There are a few murmurs in the audience, and the judge slaps his gavel.

  Tannery treks to the evidence cart and comes back with two clear plastic bags. He has the witness identify the first one.

  “Do you recognize the contents of that bag?”

  “I do. It’s the cable tie that was removed from around Kalista Jordan’s neck during the autopsy, the ligature used to strangle her.”

  “Are those your initials on the evidence bag?”

  De Angelo takes a closer look. “They are. And the date that I placed it in the bag and sealed it, at the coroner’s office.”

  “This second bag, I ask you to look at it. Are those your initials on the bag?”

  “They are.”

  “And what is in this bag, Lieutenant?”

  “The cable ties that we found in the pocket of Dr. Crone’s sport coat.”

  “And where was that coat when you found these two ties?”

  “It was hanging in a closet near the front door, the entrance to the defendant’s house.”

  De Angelo tells the jury about the search, that they’d turned the house upside down, found the cable ties in the pocket of what they later discovered from co-workers was Crone’s favorite coat, a herringbone tweed with large patch pockets, and leather on the elbows. Tannery produces the sport coat from the evidence cart, and the witness identifies it.

  “Now when you found this sport coat, which pocket were the cable ties in? You found this yourself, I take it?”

  “I did. The nylon ties were in the left side pocket.”

  “Did you find anything else in the coat?”

  “A set of keys. To the defendant’s car.”

  “What else?”

  “A cash register receipt.”

  Tannery takes another trip to the evidence cart, fumbles with a few envelopes until he finds the one he wants, looks inside, then asks the judge if he can approach the witness.

  Coats motions him on.

  “Lieutenant, I would ask you to look at the receipt in this envelope and tell us whether you recognize it?”

  De Angelo takes out a small white slip of paper, looks at it, then nods. “It’s the one I found in the defendant’s sport coat pocket.”

  “Can you tell the jury what that receipt is for?”

  “It’s a cash register receipt from the university dining room. U.C.” he says. “Dated April third for . . .”

  “Stop right there. April third. Isn’t that the day before Kalista Jordan disappeared?”

  “That evening,” says de Angelo. “The receipt is time-stamped at seven fifty-six P.M. We checked, and the clock in the cash register is accurate. It is maintained.”

  Tannery has closed the loop, made the connection between the earlier testimony of Carol Hodges, who saw Crone arguing with the victim in the faculty dining roo
m the night before she vanished. He has done this in a way that causes maximum damage, with a document that puts Crone there, date- and time-stamped, sharing the same garment with the incriminating cable ties.

  Several jurors are taking notes. Like a dazing blow to the chin, Tannery has scored points and he knows it. He takes his time, allowing the testimony to settle in for full effect.

  “Now when you searched the defendant’s house, did you find anything else?”

  “We did. We found a tensioning tool.”

  Tannery retreats to the evidence cart once more, and when he returns to the witness stand, he is holding a metal tool. It looks like a large pistol with a long trigger-like grip in front of the handle. There is an evidence tag wired to it.

  “Do you recognize this item, Lieutenant?”

  De Angelo takes it, looks at the evidence tag. “That’s the tensioning tool we found in the defendant’s garage.”

  “Do you know what it’s used for?”

  “Yes. For tightening cable ties.”

  “Like the ones in these evidence bags?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Where exactly did you find this particular tensioning tool?”

  “It was underneath a workbench in the garage, covered up with a small piece of carpet.”

  “Did you have an opportunity to test this particular tool to determine whether it worked properly?”

  “I did.”

  “And did it work?”

  “It did. We tested it in the crime lab. Using cable ties similar to those in the evidence bag, we determined that it was possible to achieve tension at over two hundred pounds per square inch using the tool.”

  Now Tannery has the tool, the cable ties and Crone’s sport coat marked for identification and moves that they be admitted into evidence. We don’t object.

  “How many cases of homicide by strangulation have you investigated in your career?” asks Tannery.

  “A good number.”

  “More than twenty?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “More than fifty?”

  “Maybe fifty.”

  “So you have some experience.”

  “Yes.”

  “In your professional opinion, would the tension applied by that tool, the tensioning tool in evidence, be sufficient to strangle a person to death?”

  “Easily,” says de Angelo.

  “Would it be enough to account for a deep ligature furrow of the kind found around the neck of Kalista Jordan?”

  “I would say so. Yes.”

  Tannery nods to himself as he paces a little, between his counsel table and a rostrum set up in front of the bench where his notes are.

  “Your witness,” says Tannery.

  Here the game is to whittle away at the edges. I start with de Angelo’s credentials as an expert.

  “Lieutenant, you say you’ve investigated perhaps as many as fifty homicide cases involving strangulation. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not all of those were murder, though, were they?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean a good number of them were suicides?”

  “Oh.” He thinks about this for a moment. “I suppose.”

  “Have you ever investigated a case of murder in which the weapon was a nylon cable tie?”

  “No. Not to my recollection.”

  “So, in fact, this is the first time you’ve ever seen a case exactly like this?”

  “Every case is different,” he says.

  “Still you never investigated a case involving strangulation with a cable tie. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “Yet you’re willing to assume that a tensioning tool was used in this case?”

  “Something was used to gain leverage,” says de Angelo. “The killer didn’t tighten that cable tie with his hands alone. Too much tension,” he says.

  “Yes, but does that mean he used a tensioning tool?”

  “It seems like a likely possibility to me,” he says.

  “But that’s all it is, a possibility.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Let me ask you, Lieutenant, do you know for a fact that a tensioning tool was used to tighten the cable tie around the neck of Kalista Jordan?”

  “Like I said, it’s likely . . .”

  “I didn’t ask you what was likely. I asked you if you knew for a fact whether such a tool was used.”

  “No.”

  “So it is only surmise, an assumption on your part, the part of your investigating team, that such a tool was even used in this case?”

  “Something was used to gain leverage. It seems natural that it would have been a tool designed for that purpose.”

  “Isn’t it possible that the loose end of the cable tie could have been wrapped around a stick, a piece of wood, maybe a short metal rod, and that this could have been used as a handle to gain leverage?”

  “It’d be awkward,” says de Angelo.

  “Still, it’s possible, isn’t it?”

  “It’s possible. Anything’s possible.” It is all the concession I need.

  “So as you sit here today, you don’t know with certainty whether that tool, the one in evidence, or for that matter any tensioning tool was used in this case, do you?”

  “There’s not much in life that any of us know with absolute certainty,” he says.

  “That’s not an answer to my question. Do you know with certainty whether that tool or any similar tool was used to kill Kalista Jordan?”

  “No.”

  Harry and I could have objected to this evidence, the tensioning tool, at the preliminary hearing before the trial, where Crone was bound over. We didn’t. It was a tactical decision. Now the state has relied on a piece of evidence that they cannot tie to the crime. Nor can they prove that a similar device was used. Voids like this can be filled later with reasonable doubt during our closing argument.

  “You testified earlier that this particular cable tie, the one taken from around the neck of the victim, is unusual, that you wouldn’t expect to find it in your local hardware store. Is that right?”

  “I think I said it was heavy-duty,” says de Angelo.

  “Would you like me to have the record read back?” I ask him.

  “I may have said it would be difficult to find.”

  “In fact you stated that you couldn’t expect to find it in your ordinary hardware store, that you’d probably have to order it from an industrial supply house. Your words.” I’m reading from a legal notepad. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “I think so.”

  “Are you telling us that cable ties of the kind used to kill Kalista Jordan are rare?”

  “I don’t know how you define ‘rare,’” he says. “They’re not as common as lighter-weight cable ties,” he says.

  “Would it surprise you if I told you I managed to purchase two dozen cable ties just like that one”—I point to the murder tie in the bag—“at five different stores right here in the San Diego area?” As I ask this, I am pointing to a large paper bag that Harry has picked up and placed in the center of our counsel table.

  “Objection,” says Tannery. “Assumes facts not in evidence. Counsel’s trying to testify.”

  “I only asked him whether he would be surprised.”

  “I’ll allow the question,” says Coats.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, during the course of your investigation didn’t you check the local stores to determine whether this type of cable tie was readily available in the area?”

  “We looked.”

  “How many stores did you check?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Isn’t it a fact, Lieutenant, that you don’t know how many of these cable ties are sold in this area in a given week, or a month, or a year?”

  De Angelo doesn’t respond.

  “Objection. Compound question,” says Tannery. “Over what time frame?”
<
br />   “Fine, let’s start with a week. Do you know how many cable ties like this are sold in this area in a week?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to try monthly?” I ask.

  I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t. So can the jury, several of whom are still looking at the bag on the counsel table.

  “Do you know whether you might have a few cable ties like this one in your basement at home, Lieutenant?”

  He doesn’t answer, but looks at me with a death wish.

  “So you can’t tell us how rare they are?”

  “I never said they were rare. That’s your word.”

  “Fine.” I leave it alone. The cable ties aren’t rare. “Do you have any idea what these ties are used for? I mean besides strangling people.”

  “Industrial uses.”

  “For example?”

  “Electrical wiring. To bundle up large groups of wires.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever you need ’em for.”

  “Do police ever use cable ties like these?”

  He makes a face, thinks about it. “Sure. They might.”

  “What for?”

  “Crowd control. In lieu of handcuffs. Sometimes it’s necessary to use ties like that.”

  “The same kind?”

  “Probably lighter weight. They wouldn’t be that strong.”

  “Fine. So there’s a lot of reasons people might keep cable ties on hand that have nothing to do with murder?”

  “I suppose.”

  “And also the tools to tighten them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean, isn’t it possible that a homeowner might keep ties like this, and a tensioning tool like that one in front of you, at home to tie up old newspapers, or bundle up trash, or to gather branches after pruning a tree?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I mean, are we all to assume that everybody who purchases cable ties intends to use them to strangle somebody?”

  There is actually some giggling in the jury box with this question.

  De Angelo doesn’t respond.

  “Maybe we should license them like firearms,” I say.

  “Objection.” Tannery’s on his feet.

  “Sustained. Mr. Madriani.”

  “Sorry, Your Honor.”

  “Then it’s entirely possible that Dr. Crone had the tensioning tool in his house and the ties in his pocket for just such a legitimate purpose? To tie up newspapers, or bundle trash?”