by Parnell Hall
“Objection,” Dirkson said. “What the witness would do is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”
“I’ll withdraw the question, and ask another. You testified that in your expert opinion Sheila Benton stabbed the victim while holding the knife in the manner in which you are now holding it. In your expert opinion, is it possible to stab someone in the back while holding a knife like that?”
“It is.”
“Is it?” Steve said. “Stand up, please.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Stand up.”
“May I ask the purpose of this?” Dirkson said.
“This witness has testified that my client stabbed the decedent with this knife. I intend to test his recollection, and his qualifications.”
Reginald Steele looked up at Judge Crandell for guidance.
“Counsel is within his rights,” Crandell said. “The witness will stand up.”
Steele rose.
“Come down here,” Steve said. “Yes. That’s right. Right down here with me.”
The witness did as he was instructed.
“You are now holding the knife in the manner in which you say the fingerprints indicate the defendant held it?”
“That’s right.”
“Fine.” Steve turned his back to the witness. “Stab me in the back.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then gasps of shock, and a murmur of voices ran through the courtroom. Dirkson lunged to his feet. “Objection!” he blurted.
Steve pitched his voice above the din. “Stab me in the back,” he repeated.
The courtroom was in an uproar. Dirkson was trying to shout over the noise.
Crandell banged the gavel. “Order! Order!” he roared.
The courtroom quieted. Crandell glared down from his bench. “Please be advised that this is a courtroom, not a sideshow. If we cannot have order, I will have the spectators removed. Is that clear?”
Crandell’s eyes swept the room. No one moved.
“Now,” Crandell said. “Mr. Prosecutor, if you have an objection, please state it.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Counsel for the defense has asked this witness to stab him in the back. I maintain that this is not proper cross-examination. It is a stunt, a theatrical exercise, and is totally out of place in a courtroom. I assign it as misconduct.”
Judge Crandell frowned. “This is the second time this morning the charge of misconduct has been raised.”
“May I be heard, Your Honor?” Steve said.
“You may.”
“Your Honor, this witness is an expert technician in the employ of the police department. He has testified that in his expert opinion, the fingerprint evidence that he found on the knife indicates that the defendant killed Robert Greely. That testimony is an utter falsehood, founded only upon this witness’s bias in favor of the prosecution, and made only with the intention of prejudicing the jury against the defendant. I intend to make the witness retract that testimony, and I am going to cross-examine him on it until he does so, even if it takes all afternoon.
“The witness has stated that Sheila Benton held the knife in the manner in which he is now holding it, and stabbed the decedent. That is utter nonsense. The medical evidence indicates that the blow was struck by someone stabbing the knife down into the back of the victim. I have asked this witness to stab me in the back, holding the knife the way he says Sheila Benton held it. He can’t do it. He can’t do it, and he’s a good four inches taller than she is. He can’t do it because he’s holding the handle like a sword, with his thumb in the position on the handle closest to the blade, and the fingers behind it. Whereas, to have inflicted the fatal blow, it is clear the assailant must have held the knife the other way, with the thumb toward the end of the handle, and the fingers closer to the middle of the knife, so that the knife could be stabbed down.
“These are clear and incontrovertible facts, which would be admitted by any witness that was not prejudiced in favor of the prosecution, and I intend to make this witness admit them if it takes all day.”
“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Counsel has no right to argue the case at this time.”
“Exactly,” Crandell said irritably. “Mr. Dirkson, no further argument is needed at this time. Nor from you, Mr. Winslow. The Court is going to make a ruling. But first the Court is going to charge the jury.” Judge Crandell turned to the jury and addressed them. “I want the jurors to understand that the remarks of the defense attorney are not in evidence, and you should give them no weight. He was arguing why he should be allowed to question the witness on the point. His arguments on the point, the contentions that he has made, are his and his alone, and do not constitute evidence. The only thing you are allowed to consider as evidence in this case is the body of pertinent questions that are asked, and the answers they elicit.” Crandell turned back to the attorneys. “The Court is now going to rule. The Court is going to rule,” Crandell said, with a trace of an ironic smile, “that it is not incumbent upon this witness to stab the defense attorney in the back. In other words, the objection is sustained. However, Mr. Winslow is quite correct in his contention that he be allowed to cross-examine the witness on the statement that he made, and the Court is going to allow any reasonable amount of pertinent questions on that subject. Now, Mr. Winslow, aside from asking to be done bodily harm, you are free to question the witness.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Steve said. “Mr. Steele, if you would care to sit down.”
Steele returned to the witness stand.
Steve stalked him, as a cat might stalk a mouse.
“Now, Mr. Steele, you have testified that in your opinion Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely, holding the knife in the manner you indicated?”
“Objection,” said Dirkson. “Already asked and answered.”
“I think it was,” Crandell said, “but it would also seem to be merely preliminary. Could we attempt to dispense with overly technical objections?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said with poor grace.
“Answer the question,” Steve said.
“Yes,” Steele said. “That’s what I said.”
“Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely with that knife?”
“Yes.”
“Holding it in her hand?”
“Yes.”
“In the manner you indicated?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how tall Sheila Benton is?”
“No, I do not.”
“Is she six feet tall?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t? You’re an expert technician. You’re trained to notice details. Do you mean to tell me you can’t tell if Sheila Benton is six feet tall?”
“Objection. Argumentative,” Dirkson said.
“Sustained.”
Steve turned to the defense table. “Sheila Benton. Stand up.”
Sheila stood.
“Now, Mr. Steele, I want you to look at the defendant and tell me if she is over or under six feet tall.”
“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “I hate to keep objecting, in view of your admonition, but this is totally irrelevant and calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”
“It does not, Your Honor,” Steve said. “It goes to his qualifications as an expert, and it goes to show bias.”
Judge Crandell looked down at him. “Bias?”
“Yes, Your Honor. The witness is a veteran observer. Surely he can look at a girl and tell if she is six feet tall or not. However, he knows what I am getting at, so he doesn’t want to say that she’s less than six feet tall. His refusal to say so is an indication of his bias.”
Judge Crandell smiled. “The argument is adroitly framed, if somewhat farfetched. However, the question could be construed as a test of his qualifications. The objection is overruled. The witness will answer the question.”
“Is the defendant over or under six feet tall?” Winslow asked.
“I’m no
t sure,” Steele said.
“Thank you for a fair and impartial answer,” Steve said, sarcastically. “Now, Mr. Steele, I’m not going to bother having the defendant come up here and stand next to you, I think I’ll just let the jury judge your statement on its own.”
“Objection, Your Honor.”
“Sustained. Mr. Winslow, such remarks are uncalled for.”
“I apologize, Your Honor,” Steve said. He turned back to the witness. “Now, Mr. Steele, let me ask you this. Did you examine the vital statistics of the decedent?”
“I did.”
“And how tall was he?”
“If he can remember, Your Honor,” Dirkson put in.
Judge Crandell frowned. “Yes, if he can remember, Mr. Prosecutor. But in the event that he cannot remember, I am going to suggest that he be withdrawn from the stand until the evidence can be supplied by someone who can remember. I would like to point out that we are conducting a murder trial here, not a battle of wits between attorneys. The defense attorney is attempting to make a point here, which he has every right to do, and which the jury has every right to hear, and I would like to see the matter proceed without so many legal roadblocks.”
Dirkson slowly sat down. Judge Crandell’s rebuke had come like a slap in the face. For one sick, fleeting moment, he could feel the case slipping away from him.
“Can you recall?” Steve asked.
“Yes,” Steele said, grudgingly. “Robert Greely was five feet, eleven inches.”
“Five feet, eleven inches? Despite your reluctance to admit the defendant is under six feet tall, I think the jurors all saw her when she stood up and can judge for themselves, so—”
“One moment, Your Honor,” Dirkson said, struggling to his feet. “I am sorry to interrupt in light of what Your Honor just said, but—”
“No need to apologize,” Crandell said. “I think we both know the difference between technical objections and valid ones. Mr. Winslow, I would not like it if it seemed that you intended to take advantage of my statement so as to make improper questions to which the prosecutor has been made reluctant to object.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“In any event, your summation was improper. The objection will be sustained. Please rephrase the question.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Steele, you still maintain Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely with the knife?”
“I do.”
“To do so, wouldn’t she have to have been hanging from the ceiling?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
Steve smiled. “Very well. Let me put it to you this way. You claim Sheila Benton held the knife in the manner you indicated, and stabbed Robert Greely. Would you kindly turn to the jury and tell them, in your expert opinion, just how she was able to do it, just how she was able to plunge the knife into his back so that it would end up in the position in which it was found by the medical examiner?”
Reginald Steele turned to the jury. “It is quite simple,” he said. “The victim could have been seated at the time. Or he could have been bent over. He could have dropped something on the floor. When he bent over to pick it up, the defendant could have stabbed the knife into his back.”
Steve stared at the witness. “That is your expert opinion?”
“It is.”
“Is there any evidence whatsoever that the decedent was seated at the time he was stabbed?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Or that he was bent over?”
“No.”
“Or that he dropped anything on the floor?”
“No.”
“You are testifying then to surmises?”
“You asked for them.”
“I asked you to justify your expert opinion. Are you telling me the only way you can justify it is with unfounded surmises?”
“That is an unfair assessment of the situation. Any theory is founded on surmises. To characterize them as unfounded is indulging in semantics.”
“But the fact remains, that you do not have one shred of evidence to back up your surmises?”
“That is true.”
“The surmises upon which you base your expert opinion?”
“That is another inaccurate assessment of the situation. My expert opinion is not based on surmises.”
“What is it based on?”
“Analysis of the evidence.”
“And the evidence in this case is the fingerprints on the knife, the fingerprints that indicate that Sheila Benton held it in the position I would characterize as being like a sword?”
“That is correct.”
“And on that evidence you base your claim, your expert opinion, that Sheila Benton murdered Robert Greely?”
“I do.”
Steve strode to the defense table. He picked up a paper bag. He reached in and pulled out a rolling pin. He strode back to the witness.
“Mr. Steele, you claim you searched the defendant’s apartment for evidence.”
“I did.”
“I hand you a rolling pin, and ask you if you ever saw it before.”
“May I ask the purpose of this testimony?” Dirkson said.
“The witness testified that he inspected the defendant’s apartment. I’m certainly entitled to test his recollection as to what he found.”
The witness took the rolling pin and turned it over in his hands.
“I can’t recognize it well enough to identify it. There was a similar one in Sheila Benton’s apartment.”
“Thank you,’ Steve said. He took the rolling pin back from the witness. “Now then, you and I have both handled the rolling pin. If you were to examine this rolling pin, could you develop the fingerprints on it and tell me which were yours and which were mine?”
“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “I object on the grounds that this is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”
“I’m merely cross-examining him on his qualifications as a fingerprint expert,” Steve said.
“Objection overruled.”
“Yes. I could do that,” Steele said.
“You could find my fingerprints?”
“Yes.”
“And you could find yours?”
“Yes.”
“On the rolling pin?”
“Yes.”
“And,” Steve said, “if I should produce a dead body whose head had been bashed in by that rolling pin, would you say that since your fingerprints were on it, you were guilty of the murder?”
Dirkson lunged to his feet. “Your Honor! I object! This is the most—”
Crandell’s gavel cut him off. “Objection sustained. The question is clearly improper.”
Steve Winslow, having made his point, smiled at the jury. “No further questions,” he said. He went back to the defense table and sat down.
Judge Crandell announced that it had reached the hour of noon recess. As the guard and matron converged on Sheila Benton, she was looking up at Steve with newfound respect.
“You son of a bitch,” she murmured.
42.
DIRKSON CAME OUT FIRING RIGHT after the noon recess. The morning had been a disaster for him—Winslow had scored points and swung the sympathy of the jury—but now it was his moment to shine. There was no way Winslow could know the surprises Dirkson had in store for him. It was time to let him have it with both barrels.
Dirkson called Lieutenant Farron. He felt better just seeing him take the stand. After the bad impression made by the evasive Reginald Steele, Lieutenant Farron seemed to exude confidence.
“Now, Lieutenant Farron,” Dirkson said. “Are you acquainted with the defendant, Sheila Benton?”
“I am.”
“When did you first meet her?”
“On June sixth of this year.”
“The day before the murder?”
“That is correct.”
“Would you explain the circumstances of that meeting?”
“Yes. Miss Benton called the police and then ca
me to the station. She first talked to Sergeant Stams, who brought her to my office.”
“And what did she want?”
“She claimed that she had received an anonymous letter and an anonymous phone call.”
“And did she show you the anonymous letter?”
“Yes, sir. She gave it to me.”
“And could you describe the letter?”
“It consisted of words cut from a newspaper and pasted on a sheet of paper to form a message.”
“And do you recall the message?”
“Yes, sir. It said: ‘I know all about you.’”
“I hand you a letter and ask you if you have ever seen it before.”
Lieutenant Farron took the letter and looked it over. “Yes, sir. That is the letter I referred to. The one the defendant gave me.”
Dirkson took the letter back from Farron. “I ask that this letter be marked for identification as People’s Exhibit number three.”
“No objection.”
“So ordered.”
Dirkson handed the letter to the clerk and turned back to Farron. “Now then, Lieutenant. Did you examine the envelope in which the letter was received?”
Steve straightened in his chair. A warning light had come on. The envelope. Sheila hadn’t mentioned the envelope, and he hadn’t even asked.
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Farron said.
“Can you describe the envelope?”
“It was addressed to the defendant. The address had been typed. There was no return address.”
“But the address of the defendant had been typed on a typewriter?”
“Yes, sir.”
Steve leaned over to Sheila. “Is that true?” he whispered. “Was the envelope typed?”
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Why? What’s the matter? Does it make a difference?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, just keep smiling and don’t let the jury see it makes any difference.”
Steve kept smiling, but his world was collapsing. Does it make a difference? Well, just a little, he thought ironically. He knew typing was as distinctive as handwriting. Which meant they could prove which typewriter had typed the envelope. Which meant they could tie the letter to Greely.