“Call your first witness,” Judge Reiner said to Vince.
I put my hand on Heather’s as Vince approached the witness stand and called the name of Officer James Hamm. Officer Hamm, along with his partner, Sam Woo, were the first officers on the scene. He was sworn in, and Vince went through the usual first questions – his name, his rank, why he was called to the scene and what he found there.
“I found the victim lying in the kitchen, in a pool of her own blood,” he said.
“I would like to show the jury pictures of the crime scene,” Vince said.
I stood up. “Objection. These pictures are prejudicial and do not have probative value. I think that we can all agree that Connie was killed by slicing her jugular vein, so these pictures will be unduly gruesome. I would also like to object to lack of foundation.” I glared at Vince, who I felt was grandstanding as usual. It would be just like him to show Connie with blood everywhere, and I, quite frankly, didn’t see the point in showing the jury the pictures. I had no idea what showing the pictures was going to prove.
The judge seemed to contemplate my objection, and then banged his gavel. “Overruled. Mr. Malloy, you may proceed. Just make sure you properly lay the foundation.”
I rolled my eyes as Vince dramatically brought out huge pictures of Connie, who was splayed on the kitchen floor. Her right arm was perfectly straight, while her left arm was on her side. Her legs were apart, and her head was turned to the left side. And, of course, there was blood everywhere. It soaked her dress, which was unfortunately white, so it showed the blood unduly well, and, all around her body, was oceans of blood. Her tongue was sticking out of her mouth and her eyes were wide open.
Vince paced the floor, looking at the jury’s reactions to the photograph. He seemed pleased, because every member of the jury, save one or two, were horrified by what they saw. One girl had her hand over her mouth and was shaking her head. Another lady looked at the picture for a few seconds, and then covered her eyes. Three other women were looking at the pictures and then glanced at each other, a look of horror in their eyes. The men tried to pretend that they weren't affected, but I could see in their eyes that they, too, were sickened by what they were seeing in that picture.
“Now, Officer Hamm,” he began. “Does this photograph accurately depict the scene that you walked into on the day of June 19, 2016?”
“Yes.”
“And you in fact took this photograph, am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“Tell the jury how you developed this photograph.”
“The photograph was taken with a digital camera, and it was developed on-site.”
“It was developed on-site? Clarify, please.”
“The Kansas City Police Department maintains a photo developing lab, and the pictures were developed in this lab.”
“Who else has had access to these particular series of pictures, other than yourself?”
“Just me. It’s the policy of our department that only one person has custody over the photographs taken at the scene.”
“So there’s not a possibility that somebody else might have somehow tampered with this photograph, isn’t that correct?”
“That is correct.”
The foundation laid, Vince went into the heart of the matter. “I notice that, in this photograph, there is not a butcher knife in the vicinity. Is this accurate?”
“Right. There wasn’t a knife anywhere near the body.”
“So this photograph is accurate in that it doesn’t show a butcher knife?”
“Objection,” I said. “Asked and answered.”
“Sustained.”
I scribbled on my yellow pad, furious at how Vince was playing up these photographs. I stood up again. “I would like to renew my objections to Mr. Malloy showing these inflammatory photographs,” I said. “And I would respectfully ask the court to instruct Mr. Malloy to move on.” I sat back down and scribbled more on my pad.
“I agree with Ms. Ross,” Judge Reiner said. “I think that the jury gets the point.”
Vince nodded his head and took the pictures off the easel and put them in a canvas folder carefully.
“Now, let’s back up just a little. Who contacted your division about this incident?”
“We received a phone call from one Olivia Davidson, I notice that she is on your witness list. She was worried because she had heard a loud fight that night. She explained that she was a friend of Ms. Morrison’s and a neighbor. She relayed that she went to the house to check on Ms. Morrison the day after she heard the fight, and nobody answered the door. She then called our office, not using 911, but called on the regular line, to ask that we do a welfare check. We followed up on her phone call and went to check on Ms. Morrison. We knocked on her door, and she did not answer. We then got a warrant to enter her premises, and we entered.”
“On what basis did you obtain a warrant to enter her premises?”
“On the basis of what Ms. Davidson said about the fight, and the fact that she tried to contact Ms. Morrison and failed. Her statement plus the fact that Ms. Morrison was non-responsive when Ms. Davidson attempted to contact her formed the basis for our search warrant.”
“Thank you,” Vince said. “I have nothing further.”
I rose and went over to the officer on the stand. “Officer Hamm,” I began. “You stated that you entered the house because Ms. Davidson called your office and told you that she was worried about Ms. Morrison. She said that she heard the two fighting in the kitchen. Did she explain to you how she was able to hear the fight?”
“Yes, ma’am. She said that she was walking her dog by the house, and the window was open, so she heard them fighting.”
I knew that there was a hole in her story right then, but I was going to have to wait until Olivia Davidson herself was called. She was second on the witness list, so I was going to have to hold my next questions until then.
“I have nothing further,” I said, and then went to take my seat next to Heather.
“What the fuck,” Heather whispered. “Why didn’t you ask more questions?”
I shook my head and wrote down on the pad of paper. I don’t want to press him more because I want the jury to maybe “forget” that there wasn’t a butcher knife found at the scene. Besides, I need to press Olivia further. She’s key in this.
I knew that this was a long-shot, but maybe if Olivia could be broken down, it would put some doubt in the jury’s mind. I therefore looked forward to Olivia getting on the stand, so I wanted her to get on the stand as soon as possible. That was another reason why I didn’t necessarily want to question the cop more.
“Call your next witness,” Judge Reiner said, looking and sounding bored. I wondered how judges did it day after day, really – hearing boring testimony for hours on end and somehow managing not to fall asleep. When I was a baby lawyer working for the Public Defender’s Office, I had to sit through depositions where I didn’t do much but observe, and I was the second chair on trials where I didn’t do much but take notes. I always found it almost impossible to keep my eyes open during these events. I therefore had sympathy for judges who had to listen, not do much talking, and where the testimony was boring as hell.
“I would like to call Olivia Davidson to the stand,” Vince said.
Olivia Davidson was called to the stand. She was an older lady, around 70ish, with bottle dyed red hair that she kept up in a bun. She was wearing a turquoise sweater set with black pants and black boots. She also wore large glasses and little makeup.
She raised her hand and was sworn in.
“Could you please state your name for the record,” Vince said.
“Olivia Davidson.”
“Ms. Davidson, what relation do you have to the deceased, Connie Morrison?”
“She’s my neighbor.”
“Your next-door neighbor?”
“Yes.” She nodded. Her words were carefully pronounced, as if she was deathly afraid that she was going to say something
wrong. She also seemed as if she was determined to only answer the question asked – she wasn’t going to be one who would go off on a tangent. I made notes about all of this as she spoke.
“Now, Ms. Davidson, tell the court what you were doing the evening of June 19, 2016.”
“Objection,” I said as I stood up. “Calls for a narrative.”
“Sustained. Mr. Malloy, please narrow the scope of your question.” Judge Reiner continued to look bored. He brought out a pitcher and poured himself a glass of water as he fidgeted in his seat.
I raised my eyebrow and crossed my arms in front of me as I smirked at Vince. I really didn’t care that he asked such an open-ended question, but I wanted to throw him off-balance. That was one of my strategies.
“Okay. During the evening of June 19, 2016, at around 7:30 PM, what activity were you engaging in?”
“Walking my dog, Henry.”
I had to suppress a smile at the fact that her dog’s name was Henry. That was a human name to me, not a dog’s name.
“You were walking your dog,” he said. “What did you hear when you passed by Connie Morrison’s house that evening?”
“I heard lots of hollering,” she said. “Between Connie and her son, Heath.” She glared right at Heather. “He thinks he’s a woman, but we all know he’s not.”
“Motion to strike,” I said, standing up. “Whether or not Ms. Davidson believes my client to be a man or a woman isn’t relevant to the case at hand.”
“Motion sustained. Ms. Davidson, please answer only the question asked and do not make comments that aren’t relevant. You’ve been warned.”
Olivia sneered, sat back in her chair and crossed her arms as she glared right at Heather.
“Okay,” Vince said. “Did you hear what they were arguing about?”
“Yes. I heard Connie tell Heath that he’s sick and demented and has the Devil in him. I can’t say that I can argue with that.”
“Objection,” I said.
“Sustained. Ms. Davidson, please do not add your opinions and only stick to the questions at hand. This is another warning.”
She shook her head, evidently ready to explode.
“How long did you stand outside the window and hear this argument?”
“About five minutes. I heard Heath screaming and hollering, and I walked away while they were yelling at each other.”
“You walked away,” Vince said. “And what did you do the next day?”
“I went by there. I baked some brownies for Connie and I wanted to share them with her.”
“What happened when you went by there?”
“I knocked and knocked and knocked.”
“Did anybody answer the door?”
“No.”
“Did you find it peculiar that she wasn’t at home at that time?”
“Yes.”
“And why was this?”
“She didn’t work. Her car was in the driveway. She didn’t take walks around the block like I do. She should have been home.”
“And what did you do next?”
“I called the police.”
“Did you follow up with the police later on that day?”
“Yes. I called them and found out what happened.” She shook her head and glared at Heather. “She was one of my best friends.”
“I have nothing further.”
Vince took a seat and I stood up and approached Olivia. “Ms. Davidson, you told the court that you were walking your dog when you heard arguing, correct?”
“Yes,” she said, glaring at me. If I could read her thoughts, I would probably see that she hated me almost as much as my client. After all, I was trying to get Heather off, so that made me the enemy too.
“You were walking your dog on the sidewalk, then, in front of the house?”
“Yes.”
It was time for me to bring out a picture of my own. “Here’s a picture of Ms. Morrison’s house,” I said, showing the jury. “As you can see, the house sits on a hill, away from the sidewalk. The sidewalk is down below, at the bottom of this bank.”
“Objection,” Vince said. “Lack of foundation.”
“I’ll put my client on the stand to testify that this picture accurately depicts the house that she lived in with Ms. Morrison,” I said. “If need be.”
The judge looked like he couldn’t care less, but he did ask me to come up and let him take a look at the picture himself.
“Let’s see,” he said. “The street sign is in the picture here, and the picture shows the address of the house, and it seems to match up to the address of the house that Ms. Morrison lived in. Lay the proper foundation, Ms. Ross, and I’ll allow it.”
“Thank you your honor.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Davidson, but I would like to ask if you could kindly step down for a few minutes. I need to call my client briefly to the stand.”
Olivia looked perplexed, but Vince nodded his head, so she obediently stood up and walked out of the courtroom while I called Heather. That was another thing about the witnesses - they couldn’t be present in the courtroom when there was testimony happening.
“Please state your name for the record,” I said to Heather.
“Heather, I mean Heath Morrison,” Heather said, her right hand raised. She looked terrified, I had to admit. I hoped and prayed that I wasn’t going to have to call her to the stand for extended testimony.
“Ms. Morrison, I would like to show you some pictures.” I held up the pictures of her old house. “Is this a picture of the house that you shared with your mother, the deceased Connie Morrison?”
“Yes.”
“And is this picture an accurate picture of the house where your mother was found dead on or around June 20, 2016?”
“Yes.”
“I have nothing further.”
“Mr. Malloy,” Judge Reiner said. “Do you have any questions for this witness?”
“No, your honor.”
“You may step down,” Judge Reiner said. “And Ms. Ross may recall Ms. Davidson to the stand.”
I got the bailiff, who went out and went to retrieve Olivia to come back up to the witness stand, and she did, walking unsurely and looking hopelessly at Vince. It seemed as if she had no desire to come back on the stand - not that I blamed her.
“Okay,” I said. “I just established that this is a picture of the house where the deceased lived with my client, Heath Morrison. Now, you were walking your dog on this sidewalk, is that correct?” I pointed to the sidewalk that was a good fifty feet away from the house and at the bottom of a steep bank.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And the windows were open, that is your testimony?”
“Right.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Have you visited Connie Morrison in her home prior to June 20, 2016?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And does she have central air conditioning?”
“Yes.”
“Describe the day,” I said. “It’s June, the middle of summer. What was the weather like that day?” I was going to try to poke holes in whether or not the window really was open. If it was rainy, then the windows might have been open, but if it was sunny, then probably not. Not in the middle of June. In fact, I had a weather report for that day ready to be entered into evidence if Olivia couldn’t remember how hot was that day. The weather report said that the temperature was 101 degrees.
“I don’t remember.”
“What time was it that you walked your dog by the window?”
“It was around 2 PM. I usually walk my dog around that time, because it’s my break time from work.”
“2 PM on June 19, 2016. And the deceased had central air conditioning.” I shook my head. “Your honor, I would like to enter into evidence a report on the weather on this day.”
“Objection,” Vince said, standing up. “Lack of foundation.”
“Wait just a minute,” the judge said. “If I can independently establish what the temp
erature was that day, then I’ll allow the weather report to come in. So, let me see…” He brought out his smart phone and looked at it, scrolling through with his fingers. He finally nodded his head. “Okay, Ms. Ross, go ahead.”
“Your honor,” Vince said. “I would like to renew my objection until I have a chance to also independently verify this information.”
The judge rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to take my word for it, huh? Well, come on up. You too, Ms. Ross.”
We both went to the bench. “Here,” Judge Reiner said, handing us both his iPhone. “Here’s the weather app, and, Mr. Malloy, here’s what it says.”
Vince took a look at the app, and then handed me the phone. As my weather report indicated, on that day it was over 100 degrees at 2 PM in Kansas City.
“That doesn’t mean that it was the same weather everywhere in the Kansas City area. That weather is only for downtown.”
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Reiner said. “Ms. Ross, go ahead and enter your weather report into evidence.”
I had the weather report marked “Exhibit A,” and I passed it along to the jury. “As you can see, at 2 PM on June 19, 2016, it was 101 degrees,” I said to them.
They all had a chance to examine it and then I went back over to Olivia. “So, your testimony, again, is that you passed by an open window in the kitchen and you heard my client fighting with Ms. Morrison. Yet you also acknowledge that Ms. Morrison has central air conditioning.”
“Right.”
“I would like to remind you that you are under oath. Now, are you positive that the kitchen window was open?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, I…”
It was time to strike. “Isn’t it true that you didn’t hear any such fight?”
“Of course I did. I called the police, why would I call the police if I didn’t hear the fight?”
Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3 Page 27