RAMIREZ: I have. It happens all the time.
Q. Even when the officer responsible claims he contaminated nothing?
A. It’s so easy to accidentally leave a print here or there. Almost impossible not to. You would be surprised how few crime scenes aren’t contaminated.
Q. Tell me about this roll of tape. It has been to your lab for examination?
A. Yes. In fact, the last thing I knew, we had passed it along to the Attorney General’s office. I know nothing about them passing it on to Ms. Mahoney.
Q. But you seemed surprised just now at seeing it. Why was that?
A. We returned the evidence to the Attorney General’s office yesterday afternoon. In order to maintain the chain of custody, when Ms. Mahoney first presented the evidence, she would typically show the sealed container it had been shipped in.
Q. Would you explain the chain of custody?
A. We follow strict rules in moving evidence, to ensure it is not tampered with; those rules ensure the proper chain of custody.
MAHONEY: Your Honor, I did not submit this evidence, I merely asked for opinion or recollection of services rendered.
SAFFELETI: My point is, Your Honor, if the evidence is not admitted, then the witness’s testimony is hearsay. If the chain of custody has been broken, then the evidence should not be admitted.
THE COURT: Ms. Mahoney, can you demonstrate the chain of custody has been maintained?
MAHONEY: I can, Your Honor.
THE COURT: Right now? Let us see it please.
MAHONEY: The Federal Express container is in my offices—
THE COURT: So you cannot produce it?
SAFFELETI: Objection. Again, if that’s the case, it’s hearsay, Your Honor!
MAHONEY: If the Court will indulge…
THE COURT: The Court has already indulged. All testimony by Dr. Hart and Mr. Ramirez concerning this roll of tape, and the hose, will be stricken.
SAFFELETI: Thank you, Your Honor.
MAHONEY: I object!
THE COURT: You will sit down, Ms. Mahoney. Overruled.
SAFFELETTI: No more questions, Your Honor.
THE COURT: Anything more, Ms. Mahoney?
MAHONEY: Defense will rest.
SAFFELETI: In lieu of recently presented evidence, the state would like to recall Ms. Clare O’Daly at this time, Your Honor.
RE-DIRECT OF
CLARE O’DALY
BY MR. SAFFELETI
SAFFELETI: Ms. O’Daly, who examined the Lumbrowski crime scene?
O’DALY: Detective Dewitt handled the collection of some of the evidence, as did Detective Morn. I handled some. The Salinas lab was responsible for most of the analysis.
Q. So Detective Dewitt didn’t handle this evidence alone?
A. Heavens no.
Q. Would you say Detective Dewitt followed proper procedures?
A. Absolutely. He’s a stickler for procedure.
Q. In your opinion, did Detective Dewitt at any time attempt to take control of this investigation away from you or anyone at the Salinas lab, or in any way to suppress evidence?
A. No. That’s absurd. He followed standard procedure the whole way. Nothing unusual at all.
Q. And were you aware of difference in dog hairs, and the presence of wool fibers?
A. Yes, I was.
Q. Didn’t you, in fact, mention those differences to me?
A. I did.
Q. And how did I respond?
A. You weren’t interested.
Those in the courtroom laughed.
O’DALY: We had plenty of circumstantial evidence in this case. We didn’t need any more.
SAFFELETI: To what did you attribute the presence of the other dog hairs?
O’DALY: To Detective Dewitt, of course. He owned a dog. It went with him everywhere.
Q. And that didn’t alarm you?
A. Alarm me?
Q. That he might somehow be involved. That’s what counsel for defense has implied.
MAHONEY: I made no such implication, Your Honor. I have merely questioned evidence.
SAFFELETI: I’m glad to hear that. I certainly hope that will go on the record.
Q. Ms. O’Daly, where is Detective Dewitt’s dog at this time?
A. The dog is dead. It was found hanged in Detective Dewitt’s garden shed.
Q. In your expert opinion, Ms. O’Daly, would it be possible for a person—let’s say Mr. Quinn—to remove a length of garden hose and some masking tape—
MAHONEY: Objection!
Q. —from that shed and to use that hose and tape in Howard Lumbrowski’s murder?
MAHONEY: Your Honor, I object!!
Q. Wouldn’t that, in fact, explain why Mr. Quinn didn’t run from the burning motel? I submit he knew whose fingerprints would be found on either the hose or the tape.
MAHONEY: The question is leading and—
SAFFELETI: I withdraw the question, Your Honor.
***
Saffeleti paced the room. He stopped and studied Quinn thoughtfully. He shook his head.
Q. Did the presence of other dog hairs alarm you, Ms. O’Daly?
He turned and faced her.
A. No, it is quite common for police officers to contaminate a crime scene. Even one so experienced as Detective Dewitt. It’s almost impossible not to. It is so common, in fact, that investigators are schooled on ways to lessen the risk. I admit that when I first discovered new fiber evidence I was quite excited. When I later realized they were from the detective… well, this kind of thing happens all the time.
Q. One other question. Did you and Detective Dewitt approach me about the use of DNA typing in this hearing?
A. We did. I suggested to you that we run such tests at outside labs, and you turned us down.
Laughter from the gallery.
Q. I did, did I?
A. You said that DNA typing on anything but humans had never been used in court. You were skeptical of the Court’s acceptance of this evidence and worried by the substantial fees involved.
Q. Thank you, Ms. O’Daly. No more questions.
“Your Honor,” barked Mahoney. “If I could have just a minute please? I have a few more questions.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She fished around in her briefcase and then leafed through the file quickly. She located something from the file, straightened her spine with confidence, and approached Clare on the stand.
Mahoney’s confidence troubled Dewitt.
CROSS-EXAMINATION
OF CLARE O’DALY
BY MS. MAHONEY
MAHONEY: Do you recognize these photographs?
O’DALY: I do. They’re photographs of the Lumbrowski crime scene.
Q. And would you read for the Court what is written on the back of the first photograph, please?
A. There’s a case number, H-four—homicide, I assume; the date—Lumbrowski Crime Scene it says.
Q. Are they all labeled in approximately the same way?
A. They are.
Q. Ms. O’Daly, are hairs and fibers more likely to be carried by a sport coat or by a rain slicker?
A. A sport coat.
Q. Not a rain slicker?
A. The smooth rubberized surface of a rain slicker wouldn’t be as likely to hold hairs and fibers… perhaps a few by static electricity, but not many.
Q. And will you tell the Court what is depicted in these photographs, please?
A. It appears to be Detective Dewitt.
Q. Appears?
A. It is Detective Dewitt.
Q. And is Detective Dewitt wearing a sport jacket? One that is capable of carrying hairs and fibers?
A. I’m not sure.
Q. And why is that?
A. Because he’s wearing a rain jacket,
Q. Thank you.
Again the courtroom buzzed. Danieli called for quiet.
Q. I have one last question for you, Ms. O’Daly. I promised the Court. I would get to motivation. Have you at any time in the last month bee
n romantically intimate with Detective James Dewitt? By romantically intimate, I mean, in the embrace of, or perhaps—
A. I know what you mean. I refuse to answer. It’s a private matter.
Clare looked over at James, concern and anger on her face.
Mahoney strutted in front of the defense table. “I submit, Your Honor, that the relationship of this witness to Detective Dewitt in the collection and analysis of evidence at the Lumbrowski crime scene, and by also having an intimate personal relationship with the detective assigned the case, constitutes a conflict of interest that could possibly prejudice the collection of evidence and therefore the state’s case against my client.”
“That’s not true!” Clare objected.
Mahoney said strongly, “Based on this prejudice, I request an immediate dismissal of charges and the subsequent discharge of my client!”
“Objection!” thundered Saffeleti, leaping to his feet. “Your Honor, this is nothing more than petty jealousy. I request the Court ask the exact question of Ms. Mahoney. Is her attack of Detective Dewitt purely professional, or was there, in the recent past, a personal conflict between the two? Specifically, I’m referring to the morning of Saturday, January fourteenth, at the Seaside Police Department.”
“What?!” shrieked Mahoney.
“Order, order,” shouted Danieli, searching for a gavel. “Where the hell’s the gavel,” he roared at the bailiff, who turned to the court recorder.
Saffeleti continued over the clamor: “Ms. Mahoney made advances on Detective Dewitt, Your Honor. Shall we discuss prejudice? A person’s social life is not being heard here this afternoon. This is hearsay and should be stricken from the record.”
“You fucking bastard!” shouted Mahoney, arms stiff at her sides, fists clenched.
Danieli located the gavel and nearly broke the handle pounding it onto his desk. “Silence!” he hollered. “There will be no profanity in my courtroom! I’ll hold you in contempt!”
“Bastard!” she repeated. Mahoney wasn’t yelling at Saffeleti; she was looking into the amused, laughing eyes of James Dewitt.
***
Danieli gained control of his courtroom and then sat reading notes for nearly ten minutes. He looked up, removed his glasses, and recited the case information for the sake of the court recorder. Then he said, “This courtroom has been a circus today, something which I regret and find inexcusable. Certainly all parties involved, including myself, failed in their appointed tasks. Defense has raised some grave allegations concerning Detective Dewitt, and then, Ms. Mahoney, you had the gall to suggest you were not implicating him in the crime. Frankly, Counselor, that was one of the most appalling displays of theatrics I’ve seen in my years on the bench. I find the approach insidious, unethical, and unfair to Detective Dewitt. It’s unacceptable behavior in my courtroom.
“As for the state’s case, it appears weak, based predominantly on circumstantial evidence and hearsay.” He continued: “Yet it would be an irresponsible act to release the accused at this time, given the gravity of the charges and the probative weight of much of the evidence.
“Therefore, the Court finds insufficient evidence in support of the charge of first-degree murder. The testimony of Detective Dewitt, Ms. O’Daly, and others do not sufficiently indicate to the Court that there is probable cause to believe the truth of the charge.
“However, Mr. Quinn, I will, at the prior request of the District Attorney, order that you be held in custody in county jail pending arraignment on arson charges and until such time as a preliminary hearing can be scheduled.
“The exhibits will be kept in the court file.
“The defendant will be remanded to the custody of the Monterey County Sheriff’s Office. Bail will be continued at one million dollars.
“Court is adjourned.”
Dewitt looked over at Saffeleti in disbelief. “We lost?”
Saffeleti packed his briefcase.
“You planned on losing? Is that why he was ready with the arson charges?”
“I made contingencies. You plan ahead in this business, James. We didn’t want him walking out of here.”
“He’s a murderer, Bill.”
“Not until we prove it,” reminded Saffeleti. “The rumors I heard were obviously true, James: You’re the subject of a grand jury hearing. How do you think that makes Danieli feel? I’ll refile in the morning. We’ll subpoena Hart’s records and we’ll order DNA tests of our own. We’ll get him, James. It’s merely red tape now. You know it, I know it, and Mahoney knows it. Look at her. Does that look like the face of victory? She should have plea-bargained with me. I won’t give her an inch now… it’s too late. By trying to win it all here, she’s backed her client into a corner.”
“Can we hold him on the arson charges?” Dewitt asked.
Saffeleti shrugged. “We’ll see,” he replied. “For your sake, I sure as hell hope we do.”
12
TRAPPER JOHN
1
In the soft resonant peace of morning, James Dewitt finally fell asleep. He had been awake all night, drinking. Drinking in anger, drinking in solitude, drinking in the hell of accusal. That the system could be perversely misused seemed to him the greatest crime. His frustration had moved him through the better half of a bottle of Scotch, and though his head throbbed as he sank into the depths of sleep, the real pain was in his heart, the pain of broken pride. He had never been so humiliated in a courtroom before. Even the fiasco of Lumbrowski’s perjury at the Miller trial paled in comparison. That his professional abilities should be challenged and contradicted, indeed, turned against him, was a degradation he could not face. He seethed with anger. He understood much more clearly why Quinn had pointed at him the night of the motel fire: Quinn had planned to frame him from very early on; Rusty’s murder had been required to silence the dog as Quinn gained access to the shed and its damning contents. Dewitt and the entire system he represented had been manipulated to Quinn’s advantage. Dewitt felt used, soiled, like a prostitute must feel after opening her hand and accepting money for the first time. And yet, in his drunkenness, he allowed himself to see there was something beautiful about his situation as well: He had been pushed over the edge, and the hopelessness of his position inspired him. He would talk to Quinn—as the investigating officer he had the right; he could interrogate him a dozen times if he so desired. He would make Quinn slip up; he would seek out the crack in the veneer and drive a spike through it. He would prevail. His resolve, his determination, had never been greater.
He took Friday off, picnicking with Emmy on Point Lobos that evening when the air and the weather breathed change across the coast, announcing the arrival of spring. He didn’t talk to lawyers, excluding Bill Saffeleti, with whom he spoke several times; he didn’t relive the preliminary hearing a dozen times; he disconnected for two long days, dedicated to his daughter and to his own unwinding. Relaxation came to him with great difficulty. He found himself in battle with himself—half of him determined and dedicated to overcoming Quinn’s challenge, the other half wanting out and away. He made Emmy agree to leave the phones unplugged for these two days. He wouldn’t be drawn back into it by reporters and talk-show producers and the curious. By Monday, his home number was changed and unpublished: Emmy was free to plug in the phone again, with only her close friends and the station house being given the number. Life was not back to normal—he doubted it would ever be—but it was tolerable, and you accepted graciously what gifts you were given.
Monday night, Clare knocked on the door with a cold dinner for three. They ate around the living room coffee table while watching a made-for-TV movie that Emmy was determined to see. They said nothing of the hearing. Near the end of the movie, Dewitt caught himself not watching the television set but looking between the two, wondering whether any such arrangement would ever work on a permanent basis. Clare, or a woman like her, could never take the place of Julia, but could she find a place? Would Emmy ever be able to make such an adjustment? Would h
e?
He saw Clare to the car that night, feeling Emmy’s eyes boring down on him from behind a parted blind. Clare must have sensed this, he thought, for she made no movement to kiss him or hold him. Instead, she looked at him confidently and said, “‘Don’t worry. Be happy.’” She was quoting a popular song. She added, “Things tend to work themselves out.” But it wasn’t her words or even her comforting smile that drew them closer that night; it was something in her eyes, a genuine concern, a reassurance, a selflessness that flattered him, touched him, and provided him with something missing from his life for the past six months.
James Dewitt had fallen in love.
***
Tuesday, January thirty-first, James Dewitt hurried to the county jail, where Bill Saffeleti awaited him. “Are you sure about this?” Dewitt asked.
Saffeleti and James Dewitt stood outside Interrogation Room C in the Monterey division headquarters of the Monterey County Sheriff’s Office, both with their arms crossed. Dewitt wore a blue bow tie and a worried expression. “I owe you for this, Bill,” he added.
“Damn right you do. I still don’t know what you hope to get from this.”
“Christiansen thinks Quinn will open up if I can get him talking.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. You’re not going to get anything close to a confession, James. That’s dreaming.”
“I don’t expect a confession.”
“Are you sure? That’s what it sounds like to me.”
“He’s framed me for Lumbrowski’s murder, Bill, I have to do something.”
“I understand that.”
“I’m being investigated by a grand jury, for Christ’s sake!”
“I understand that also. I’m just trying to warn you not to expect too much.”
“This guy killed my dog, stole stuff from my shed, and then used it all against me. He killed my daughter. He pulled my life apart piece by piece. He obviously had it planned from the very beginning. What else did he have planned? What else don’t we know about? Am I right about any of this? That’s important information to this investigation—to me—even to my testifying at the grand jury hearing.”
“Agreed. But he’s not going to admit anything. Forget that. Give it up.”
“There are still questions that have to be answered. Too many. These guys like Quinn will often open up if you steer them into third person, keep them away from first person. Like Ted Bundy.” Dewitt added, “How much leeway will Mahoney give me? I can’t see her letting me get a word in.”
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