Judge Wallace settled himself behind the bench and peered over at Jamison. Given yesterday’s events, he was curious to learn what Jamison would do. How a lawyer reacted to unanticipated attacks on his case separated the good trial lawyers from the rest. Judge Wallace caught the smile on the prosecutor’s face. “Mr. Jamison, you may proceed.”
After hours of rumination, Jamison had concluded that if he rested the prosecution’s case, McGuiness had only two choices. He could also rest his case, present no evidence, argue reasonable doubt and remind the jury that his client had a constitutional right not to testify, or he could put St. Claire on the stand.
The chances of a jury giving a defendant the benefit of the doubt without his testifying was always a significant gamble for the defense. Clearly McGuiness had drawn blood with his cross-examination of Garrett, but other than the pictures, there was no evidence to back up any of his implications. Elizabeth had denied it all. Therefore McGuiness needed St. Claire on the stand to win his case. So did Jamison, but not for the same reason.
McGuiness wouldn’t expect him to rest his case without bringing Elizabeth back to explain questions the defense had raised. In trial, sometimes doing the unexpected was the best weapon.
“Your Honor, the People rest.” The expression on McGuiness’s face told Jamison he had indeed taken him off-guard. Perhaps nobody but a trial lawyer or a judge would know it, but Jamison did. He was also hoping that Wallace would react to form and confront McGuiness immediately to start putting on his case.
McGuiness stood slowly before addressing the court, gathering his thoughts. “Your Honor, I had expected that Mr. Jamison might be calling a few additional witnesses. There will be a delay before my first witness is available.”
The judge didn’t disappoint. “Counsel approach the bench.” Wallace motioned both lawyers to the side of the bench. “Mr. McGuiness, are you planning to put your client on the stand?”
The defense lawyer shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, but I had planned on putting an expert witness on first as well as another witness regarding the phone logs.”
Immediately Jamison said, “Your Honor, as this court is aware, Mr. McGuiness has given no indication of witnesses other than his client. If he has such a witness I have a right to know who it is and an opportunity to talk to them.”
Wallace held up his hand to stop him. “Mr. McGuiness, you know my rules. You are to have witnesses ready to go. You have a witness ready to go. Let’s at least get on with that.”
McGuiness opened his mouth to respond and then obviously thought better of it. “Yes, Your Honor.” He walked back to the counsel table. “The defense calls Dr. Alex St. Claire.”
St. Claire stood, deftly buttoning his suit jacket with one hand as he walked to the center of the courtroom. He moved his body slightly, causing the French cuffs of his white shirt to extend just beyond his suit sleeve. It was the gesture of a man accustomed to wearing expensive clothing with no hint of self-consciousness and who was used to being in control and accustomed to deference. He raised his right hand to take the oath.
Jamison didn’t need to look over at the jurors to know that right now St. Claire had their sympathy. Jamison suspected that St. Claire was aware of this as well.
McGuiness waited until his client was comfortably seated before asking his first questions. He carefully established that St. Claire had completed his college education at the University of California at Berkeley with high honors, and then obtained his medical degree with honors at the University of London Imperial College School of Medicine in England. He had done research in Europe on the effects of anesthesia before returning to the United States and doing a residency in Chicago. While he had been in Europe his parents had died. The loss of his family and the fact that he had been raised in California made him want to return.
Jamison saw no point in trying to halt the effort to polish St. Claire in the eyes of the jury. It would only make him look petty. But he also knew that the more academic status and acclaim that McGuiness layered on St. Claire, the more a jury would be inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. Before he uttered one word about the charges, he would be perceived as a humane man of distinction, working in the most noble of professions, and the jury would think, “Why would a man like this do what he had been accused of?” That was the question McGuiness wanted them to have stuck in their heads.
What was in Jamison’s head was that as far as he was concerned they were all looking at a multiple murderer who wore French-cuffed shirts and two-thousand-dollar suits.
“Dr. St. Claire, do you know Elizabeth Garrett?”
Turning his face toward the jury, St. Claire answered quietly. “Yes, I met Elizabeth when I was a college student here before I transferred to the University of California.”
“And how old were you when you met her?”
“I was almost twenty-one, and she was, I found out later, nearly seventeen. I thought she was older, but I wasn’t that old myself.”
“You have heard testimony that the two of you had a relationship. Is that true?”
“Yes, but the truth is we fell in love. There is no other way to put it.” Jamison found the precision of St. Claire’s speech irritating and affected. The slight hint of British accent seemed to give him a patrician air. Jamison wasn’t sure the jury would be as put off by the accent as he was or put off at all.
Carefully, McGuiness threaded St. Claire through the days and months and finally the years of their relationship before asking the questions that moved toward the heart of the case. “During this time did you and Elizabeth become intimate?”
St. Claire looked down, hesitating before answering. He raised his head and kept his eyes on McGuiness. “Yes, we both were inexperienced. It just happened. And then we couldn’t stop. It was the first time for both of us.”
“You heard Ms. Garrett testify yesterday about some photographs. Where did those photographs come from?”
“I kept them all these years. I should have destroyed them. I told Elizabeth that I would, but the truth is I couldn’t destroy anything that reminded me of her. I am embarrassed by the pictures, but we experimented with our sexual activities. Everything was new and different. She liked certain things and, I confess, so did I.
“It’s hard for people to understand, I suppose, but we would play games, little personal games. It was part of our relationship, but it was just between us. You understand? We didn’t hurt each other. It was just a game. I would never do anything to hurt Elizabeth.”
Jamison shifted his eyes to take in the jury. This was Tenaya County, it wasn’t Hollywood. Even though bondage might no longer seem shocking, it still would alter, if only slightly, the crafted image of St. Claire as a man without mortal faults. Jamison tucked that fault line away as something he would work on and turned his attention back to McGuiness’s questions.
“So Ms. Garrett was a willing participant in this game shown in these photographs?”
“Yes, she was. I would never do anything that Elizabeth didn’t ask me to do or agree to do.”
“At some point did your relationship end?”
“Her parents were behind that. Elizabeth was underage and her father was quite specific about what would happen to me. I was afraid. I tried to stop seeing her but it didn’t work. We saw each other in secret.”
“You recall that she said you kept coming to her place of work and she told you to stay away? Is that correct?”
“I did keep coming to where she worked but she didn’t ask me to stay away. We were just trying to keep it from her father. And then she told me she was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. Both of us were scared. We were so young. That’s when I decided that we would get married. We would run away. We talked about it. Looking back on it now, it sounds immature and dramatic but we didn’t know what else to do.”
“Did you know if Elizabeth was actually pregnant? Did she have a test?”
“All I knew was that she told me she was pregnant. I belie
ved her. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Elizabeth testified that the reason she went with you to Southern California was because you had a knife and forced her to go with you. Is that true?”
“I did not use a knife.” His modulated tone broke and rose in indignation. “It is true that I kept a small knife in my car. Elizabeth knew it was there but I never threatened her with it. She wanted to come with me as much as I wanted her to. It wasn’t just my idea to get married. It was hers too.”
“I drove us to Los Angeles,” he continued, his composure restored. “I didn’t know where we could get married. She was not yet eighteen. We stayed at a motel and talked. Then I thought of Mexico. Looking back on it I realize that it was totally unrealistic. I didn’t think about how we could get across the border. We didn’t think about any of that.”
“Elizabeth left you? She ran away?”
“After we left the motel and we decided to go to Mexico she became very emotional. We drove around and talked. We decided to see a few things, you know, like tourists. We stopped a few times and I thought it was going to be okay. But at the end of the day she said she wanted to see her mother; she wanted to go back. I didn’t want to go back. We argued. I said she would feel better after we were married. She became hysterical.
“She jumped out of the car and ran to a nearby house. I hoped she would come back out, but I got scared. I’m not proud of it, but I drove off. I did return, but when I did, I saw a police car so I drove away.”
“When did you next see Elizabeth?”
“I didn’t see her again for a long time. Her father wouldn’t let me see her and my lawyer told me to stay away. I came to court after I was arrested, but then the charges were dropped. My lawyer said Elizabeth and her parents didn’t want to press charges. He made it clear that I needed to stay away from her for my own good. I didn’t see her again until all of this happened.”
McGuiness walked over to the counsel table and retrieved a bag from a briefcase. As he walked back to St. Claire, he held the bag out so that all eyes were on it. “Dr. St. Claire, Alex, do you recognize this bag? It has Sears printed on it, the department store?” He handed it to St. Claire.
St. Claire took the bag and looked inside it. “Yes.”
McGuiness took the bag back and moved close to where Jamison was sitting. Only Jamison could see the look in McGuiness’s eyes as he turned the bag on end, dumping its contents out on the counsel table directly in front of Jamison and O’Hara. Baby clothing tumbled out in a small pile. Jamison looked down at the pile as McGuiness pulled a receipt from the bag and laid it in front of him. McGuiness waited so that everyone could see the clothing. He held up a piece to St. Claire. “Alex, what is this?”
“It’s part of the baby clothes that we bought while we were driving around in Los Angeles. We stopped at a Sears store. I noticed the baby clothes. I don’t know why, but Elizabeth picked some out and we bought them for the baby.”
“And this?” McGuiness held up the receipt.
“That’s the receipt for the clothes.”
“Does the receipt have a date on it?”
“Yes, it has a cash register stamp for the day we were in Los Angeles.”
McGuiness handed the receipt to Jamison. “Would you stipulate that the date on the receipt is the same as the date when Elizabeth testified they were in Los Angeles?”
The dates were the same. Jamison didn’t have a choice. “I agree.”
McGuiness retrieved the receipt from Jamison and picked up each item of baby clothing individually, making a display of dropping the items carefully into the bag so that all the jurors could see it. As he did so, McGuiness turned his head just enough so that Jamison alone could catch his expression. His eyes read, I told you so.
“These are the baby clothes you and Elizabeth purchased?”
“Yes, again, I realize it probably doesn’t make much sense, buying clothing for a baby before it is born. We didn’t know whether it would be a boy or a girl or how big . . .” St. Claire’s voice trailed off as if his focus was on the memory of that moment instead of on the courtroom.
McGuiness returned to the counsel table and removed from his briefcase a piece of paper encased in a clear plastic folder. He showed it to Jamison. It was a cash register receipt for the same day. Jamison shoved it back across the counsel table toward McGuiness, who picked it up, returned to the witness box, and handed it to St. Claire. “Dr. St. Claire, do you recognize this piece of paper?”
St. Claire looked at it briefly and gave it back. “Yes.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a cash register receipt from the Queen Mary, the legendary passenger ship that is down in the harbor at Long Beach. We visited the wax museum that was on the ship. It has the date on it for the same day.”
The defense attorney laid the receipt on the flat wooden rail in front of the jury box. “So you and Elizabeth went to the wax museum on the Queen Mary? Were there a lot of people there?”
“There were people all over. It’s a major attraction. She wanted to go.”
“And it was after you went to the Queen Mary that she ran away?”
“Yes, we drove around some more. She was becoming more and more upset and that’s when I stopped at an intersection and she jumped out of the car.”
“This was over ten years ago, wasn’t it? Why did you keep these things?”
Inhaling deeply before answering, St. Claire stared up at the courtroom ceiling. “I suppose there is some complex answer for it but the truth is I’m not sure why.” St. Claire turned his head toward the jury. “The only thing I can say is I held on to every part of Elizabeth. I put these things away. I kept them because they were part of her, part of us. They were just stored at the house when I went away to school. When all this happened you asked me whether there was anything that might explain our relationship. I remembered these things and I gave them to you.”
“Dr. St. Claire, let’s talk about these charges you have been accused of. Elizabeth testified that she hadn’t seen you in ten years, and then all of a sudden at a shopping mall you walked up behind her and frightened her. She says she had not seen you since the charges were dropped. Is that true?”
“It is true that I had not seen Elizabeth since then. I may have let my emotions get the better of me and made some costly mistakes in my life, but I’m not a fool. I stayed away. The day I saw her at the mall was no surprise to her. She phoned me at the hospital. She said she had heard I was back in town and that perhaps we could talk over coffee.”
“What time was it when you got that call?”
“I don’t recall exactly, but it was in the early afternoon. The call logs from the hospital would show what time. They keep a record of all calls that go into hospital extensions. You have to go through the main switchboards.”
“And what did you do in response to the call?”
Inhaling audibly, St. Claire’s voice cracked as he spoke. “I suppose maybe I am a fool. When I heard her voice I wanted to see her. I knew better, but I did it anyway. I left the hospital and met her at the mall.”
McGuiness continued with his orchestrated examination. “What happened at that meeting?”
Jamison felt a cold sensation in his stomach. He could see St. Claire had the jurors in the palm of his hand. They were riveted.
St. Claire wiped at the corners of his eyes. “We talked. She said she was sorry about what had happened. Seeing her again brought everything back. We spent the afternoon together. We went to my house to talk some more and—to be alone.”
“And when you went to your house to be alone, did anything happen?”
“It was like we had never been apart. I drove her back to her car at the mall. I had to be out of town for a conference, but I was coming back on the day all this happened. She had planned to have dinner with a friend and agreed to meet me after. She didn’t want her parents to know, nor did I.”
“While you were at your home that day, were you and Elizabeth in
timate?”
“Yes,” St. Claire said softly. “The answer is yes, we were.”
McGuiness placed a photograph in front of Jamison. It was a picture of Elizabeth turning her head as she got into a car. Her hair was swirling around her face. McGuiness picked up the photograph and showed it to his client. “Do you recognize this?”
“Yes, it’s a photograph that I took of Elizabeth after we returned to her car at the mall. She had a camera with her and we took some photographs. We were teasing each other. She didn’t want me to take it and she turned her head away as I snapped the picture. She gave this to me later.”
“You said she asked you to take ‘some photographs.’ Do you have the others?”
St. Claire shook his head. “No, it was Elizabeth’s camera. This is the only one she gave me.”
“Let’s move to the night Elizabeth testified you stopped her car by the cemetery. So did you follow her car that night and stop her? Did you have a red light on your car?”
“I did drive my car to that location. It was where we agreed to meet. She was waiting. I didn’t have any red light on my car. That’s ridiculous. Why would I need that? I walked up to her car and she had the window down. I did say, ‘Remember me?’”
“Did you have a knife?”
“Why would I need a knife? She came willingly with me and we went to my home out in the country where I do some of my work sometimes. It wasn’t far. I showed her around. We talked.”
Jamison made a quick note for his cross-examination. If there was no knife, then how did the blood get on the seat? That would have to be explained. He refocused as McGuiness continued.
“Did you have sexual relations?”
“I’m not going to say I didn’t want to. I did. But she fell asleep on the couch. We were both very tired. I was going to take her back to her car but it was late.”
“She stayed and slept all night?” McGuiness asked.
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