“Detective Swanson asked Gordon why he had cancelled the test. He said he had a problem with the gloves, but Gordon said it didn’t matter now that the coroner’s report was in. Gordon said this was a slam-dunk case and that the citizens of Jefferson would be grateful to get someone like Lisa Miller off our streets. Everything pointed to her being guilty, and we had enough to convict her so we didn’t need to bother.”
“Again, Mr. Westland, is it customary for the prosecutor to override the working detectives’ request for evidence?”
“No, sir, not usually. But Swanson wasn’t used to working with Gordon. That’s why he questioned it.”
Duncan looked down at Mr. Gordon, then to the jury, and then back to Westland. “I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor.”
Duncan then returned to his seat next to Lisa while Judge Kirkley stared at Gordon. “Do you have any redirect for this witness, Mr. Gordon?”
To which he received a curt, “No.”
“Then you may call your next witness, Mr. Gordon.”
Duncan sat next to Lisa, smiling. He knew he had stung Gordon pretty well, but he also knew that first strikes don’t always win. There was much more to come, and jurors can be pushed back and forth throughout a trial. It is the side that pushes last that the jury remembers. Even though he was feeling pretty good, he had no intention of getting cocky.
Throughout the week, Gordon called every corrections officer who had ever dealt with Lisa. He even subpoenaed her parole officer from California, who painted a graphic picture of a very wild, out of control, angry young woman. Gordon also handed the jury page after page of court documents, showing the years of repeat offenses and jail time. He was painting a picture for the jury so they would see what he saw, a woman the good citizens of Jefferson would not want on their streets. He had made sure the citizens of Jefferson knew how hard he was working to protect them from the likes of people like Lisa Miller. He was counting on the common presumption that people don’t really change.
On Thursday afternoon, Gordon called the coroner to the stand. After being sworn in, Dr. Kozak carefully answered every question put to him by Prosecutor Gordon.
“Now, Dr. Kozak, did you actually perform the autopsy on Charles Miller?”
“Yes, sir.”
Handing Dr. Kozak a stack of reports from the evidence table, Gordon continued. “These reports are marked exhibit six. Are these autopsy findings introduced into evidence on Monday your findings?”
After a quick glance, he said, “Yes, they are.”
“Now, Dr. Kozak, the court has heard the findings regarding the bullet entry. We have heard that the weapon was fired from a very close range, in an upward trajectory. Is that in agreement with your findings?”
“Yes. The wound did indicate that the gun was within two or three inches of Mr. Miller when fired.”
“Now, Dr. Kozak, can you tell us, was that bullet wound the only life-threatening wound sustained by Mr. Miller that evening?”
Looking over at the jury, Dr. Kozak very deliberately said, “No, sir, it was not.”
Stepping closer to the witness stand, as if to be filled in on some juicy new tidbit, Gordon, with a look of surprise on his face, asked, “It wasn’t? Well, what other life-threatening wound did you find?”
“During the autopsy, it was discovered that Mr. Miller received a substantial blow to the back of his head.” Then, turning his back to the jury and placing his hand on the back of his own head to indicate the exact spot, he said, “Right here at the base of the skull.”
“Dr. Kozak, were you able to determine what type of object might have caused such an injury?”
“Yes. The wound indicates the object was some type of two-inch smooth cylinder; it could have been a pipe of some type. Not having the actual object, one can only suppose.”
“Now, Dr. Kozak, is it possible that Mr. Miller, while in a physical altercation, might have been shoved backward? Say, while someone was trying to defend himself or herself from his attack? Could that be possible?”
“No, sir, for two reasons.” Dr. Kozak then waited for Gordon to ask what those two reasons were.
Gordon walked over toward the defense table so the jury would look at Lisa as they heard the thing that was going to convict her. “Well, Dr. Kozak, would you please tell this court the first reason you feel that would not be possible.”
“Yes. But may I use a diagram of the alley to illustrate how the body would have had to come in contact with the object, if pushed?” Dr. Kozak knew he would be allowed, and he was prepared. Stepping out of the witness box, he placed a large drawing of the alley behind the bakery on an easel.
Turning toward the jury and speaking directly to them, he said, “We searched this alley. Because of the placement and direction of the wound, and the height of the victim, for the wound to be caused by someone shoving him back against something, two things would have had to happen. First, he would have had to be in a falling movement, not simply a backward movement. A backward movement would have produced a blow to this portion of the skull, at least three inches higher up. The indentation at the base of the skull indicates the object would have had to be about three feet from the ground, and that Mr. Miller’s head would have had to be slumped forward, his chin almost touching his chest as he fell backward, striking the object.”
Gordon leaned forward, still close by Lisa, and asked, “So if that is possible, could the defendant have simply shoved the victim, causing this injury?”
“No, sir.”
With mock disbelief, Gordon questioned, “Why? Why isn’t that possible?”
Looking directly at the jury, Dr. Kozak gave the same answer Duncan had been coming up with for two months. “Because there are no exterior pipes mounted to the walls of that building. There are none.”
After allowing this information to sink in a little, Gordon pushed on. “All right, Dr. Kozak. We now know the injury did not occur by shoving. What is the second reason?”
Kozak gave a haughty smirk and responded, “The very nature of the wound. You see, this blow rendered Mr. Miller unconscious almost immediately. Death, if no other wounds had been introduced, would still have come. It would have taken between two and three minutes but without the victim regaining consciousness. The indentation to the skull indicates Mr. Miller’s head was forward, as if looking down, and the blow would have come from above.”
Gordon then asked the question he had been moving toward for two hours. “Dr. Kozak, is this injury to Charles Miller a wound that is commonly seen in victims that have been waylaid from behind?”
“Yes, sir. It is.”
“Dr. Kozak, can you tell which wound came first? The gunshot or the head wound?”
“No, not exactly. We do know the victim only lived two or three minutes after the head wound. We also know his heart was still pumping for one or two minutes after being shot. As to which wound came first, it would be impossible to say with exact certainty.”
Stepping back to his seat, Gordon announced, “I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor.”
It was almost five o’clock before Gordon finished with his witness. The judge, noting the hour, brought the day to a close. As Duncan studied the faces of the jury, he knew his side had received a devastating blow this afternoon. Gordon had painted a perfectly rational explanation of what could have happened that night, making Lisa appear to be the aggressor. The jury’s body language was obviously negative. In so many words, they were told that Lisa was trash and her story didn’t match the facts. Dr. Kozak’s testimony was strong and convincing, and they were buying it.
As Duncan packed up his files, he remembered a crude, old-time lawyer who taught at his law school. This character was a favorite of the students and was famous for his downhome sayings. One in particular fit right now. He used to say, “Boys, if ever your opponent lays a huge pile of cow manure in front of you, don’t never stir it. Stirring won’t ever make it go away; it just makes it sme
ll worse.”
Duncan didn’t know what Lisa was hiding. All he knew was that he would not cross-examine this witness. First thing Friday morning, Dr. Kozak was reseated in the witness stand and Judge Kirkley turned him over to Duncan. Remaining seated, and sporting a more positive attitude than he really felt, Duncan replied, “Your Honor, the defense has no questions for this witness.”
Dr. Kozak smiled broadly at Mr. Gordon as he stepped down from the stand.
Judge Kirkley gave Mr. Duncan a long gaze and then addressed the prosecutor. “You may call your next witness, Mr. Gordon.”
Mr. Gordon then called his last witness, the doctor who had treated Lisa after Charles Miller beat her. They had blown-up photos taken in the emergency room the night fourteen years earlier. Several of the jurors had a hard time looking at these photos and passed them on almost without looking.
The doctor gave a complete account of the injuries, as well as a fairly accurate description of the pain and suffering Lisa had experienced for weeks after the beating. This testimony was hard on Gladys. She was almost sick as the doctor presented it, blow by blow, and laid it out for them. To think that this woman she had come to love as a daughter had experienced this was too much for her. She had known about the beating. Lisa and Susan had talked about it several times, but never this graphically. Somehow, like so many others who couldn’t deal with the painful truth, she must have mentally chosen to think of them as merely bad spankings. As she sat there looking at the back of Lisa’s head, she wanted so badly to go up to her and kiss her and ask her forgiveness for not really understanding what she had lived through.
Gordon studied the jury as the doctor finished up his testimony. He watched as they all kept looking over at Lisa, as if trying to imagine her in the condition shown in the pictures. Of course, he was not allowed to argue his case, but he believed he had given this jury every reason to think Lisa Miller could hate her father enough to kill him. He just wasn’t allowed to say it yet.
Duncan knew what Gordon was doing, painting such a graphic picture of Chuck Miller’s handiwork. Yesterday he placed before the jury his suspicion of what Lisa did. Today, he placed before them her reason for doing it.
Since there was nothing this witness could do to help his client, Duncan simply said, “Your Honor, I have no questions for this witness.”
After the doctor was dismissed, Judge Kirkley made an announcement. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now four o’clock and we have the weekend ahead of us. Since there is not enough time to call another witness, I’ll ask the defense to hold off presenting their case until Monday morning. Is that satisfactory to you, Mr. Duncan?”
“Yes, sir. That would be fine.”
Turning to the jury, Judge Kirkley said, “I admonish the jury not to discuss this case, and not to draw any conclusions regarding testimony you have heard so far. I wish you a good weekend and will see you back here at nine o’clock Monday morning.”
As soon as Judge Kirkley and the jury were out of the courtroom, Aunt Gladys went to talk with Lisa. Scott noticed the look on Officer Jackson’s face as the two women sat there talking about the day’s testimony. The muscles in Officer Jackson’s cheeks were twitching and his eyes were filled with anger.
Scott walked up to him and asked, “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not. How could anyone do that to such a sweet, kind person as Lisa? I don’t care what she was doing back then, no one has the right to do what he did. I can’t believe they only gave him ten years. Letting him out to try again was criminal. When is this society ever going to learn?”
As Officer Jackson walked away in disgust, Scott wondered what, if anything, was going on between his sister-in-law and this man, but now was not the time to focus on anything but Lisa’s defense.
Chapter 30
No one got much rest that weekend. Everyone was struggling with a sense of depression, and even though they tried to make sure the children had fun, no one felt much like playing. Bill Thomas came down on Saturday and took his granddaughters out to a movie, and Carol Anne and Harry took Matthew back home to Atlanta for the weekend. This gave Scott, Susan, and Aunt Gladys a quiet Saturday to meet with Mr. Duncan. He wanted to go over a few things before they started their defense on Monday.
Entering his office around nine o’clock on Saturday morning, they smelled freshly brewed coffee and heard Duncan talking on the phone. A few minutes later he came out and offered everyone some coffee and directed them into his conference room. Duncan knew these three were counting on him to save their loved one.
With more confidence than the last two days would merit, he began. “I know the last two witnesses did some serious damage, and yesterday was a pretty hard day on all of you. We all knew it would be. The prosecution has planted some strong motives and suspicions in the minds of the jury.”
Scott was looking for anything that would explain how it might have happened. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, Mr. Duncan, but how serious is that business about the head wound? Couldn’t it have happened during the struggle and Lisa simply can’t remember? After all, she was terrified.”
“Scott, it is possible that Lisa doesn’t remember. We’ve gone over and over every minute of that night. Our problem is, not only does she not remember, no one can find any evidence that would support an accidental blow.”
“But the man was trying to kill her. Doesn’t she have a right to defend herself?”
“Scott, that’s not the issue. The blow, in and of itself, could still be argued to be self-defense, occurring during a struggle. Because Lisa can’t, or won’t, explain how it occurred, the prosecution is making the assumption that she has something to hide. He has painted a rational picture that fits the evidence. What we have to do is paint a clearer picture of just how vicious Chuck Miller really was. How he was always the aggressor and that he fully intended to kill Lisa that night. I also have to make that jury see your Lisa. If we can paint those two very clear pictures, I’m hoping the jury will set aside the head injury as just something that will never be explained. Because we can’t explain it, we need to treat it as a relatively unimportant item in the bigger picture. That’s what my approach is going to be. I think we have a good chance of winning this trial if we keep to the plan and push forward with everything we have.”
Then, wanting to move away from this line of thought, Duncan smoothly changed the subject. “Susan, I need your testimony. The prosecutor isn’t stupid. Gordon wasn’t trying to help us yesterday by showing the jury what your father did to Lisa. He intends to use that to prove her rage and anger, explaining why she wanted to kill him.”
Scott was still having trouble with the images of the day before. “It’s funny, someone like Chuck Miller can do what we saw yesterday and someone like Mr. Gordon can look Lisa in the face and say, ‘You did not have a right to use deadly force to defend yourself.’ ”
Duncan understood the anger in Scott’s voice. “We need the jury to understand that Chuck Miller did intend to do all that, and more, to Lisa in that alley. If we can keep that in front of them, I think we can win.
“Susan, first thing Monday morning I intend to put your mother on the stand. Then, right after her, I want your old neighbor, Mrs. Reiner, on the stand. That contrast should be interesting to the jury. On Tuesday I will call Officer Kerry Bailey.”
Aunt Gladys gave a puzzled look. She hadn’t heard that name before. “Who is that?”
Susan answered before Duncan had a chance to respond. “Aunt Gladys, as Mr. Duncan was going through all the police records he came across the reports done the night my dad almost killed my mother. Apparently, this Officer Bailey was the one who fought with my dad and got him off my mother. He was the one who handcuffed and arrested my father. Even though it was almost twenty-five years ago, his report was so extensive and detailed Mr. Duncan thought it would be a good example of how bad my dad was.”
As Susan gave this explanation, Duncan sat there, quietly thinking, It’s strange, bu
t every time I’ve mentioned this witness to you, Susan, you evaded any in-depth conversation. You never wanted to talk about it or think about it. Getting the truth out of you was a major task. You two girls grew up in a home that demanded secrecy in order to survive. Susan, you have no idea how that night has affected this witness. I wonder how you’re going to react when you are forced to finally listen to his testimony.
Wanting to bring the meeting to a close, Duncan offered, “All right, let’s go over this again. On Monday I’ll call your mother and Mrs. Reiner, and on Tuesday, Officer Bailey and you, Susan. By then the jury will have their picture of Chuck Miller. Then on Wednesday I’ll call Scott, Gladys, and Mrs. Bascom.”
Duncan paused for moment, weighing his words carefully. “Something has come up, so our schedule will have to be changed for next Thursday and Friday. Judge Kirkley will be closing down the trial until the following Monday, but then I intend to put Lisa on the stand to tell the jury what really happened in that alley.”
With everyone’s confidence built up and feeling back in control, they left for home. After dropping Gladys off at her house, Scott and Susan returned to their temporary little home for some much-needed rest. The children where already napping, so Susan walked the sitter out to her car while Scott went and laid down for a quick nap. Everyone in the house was resting—everyone except Susan. She kept herself busy trying to make grocery lists and menus for the next week, anything to keep her mind busy. Around three o’clock she sat down in the kitchen, waiting for the phone to ring. Knowing she would be under a lot of emotional stress, she and Dr. Jacobson had arranged for the doctor to call every Saturday afternoon to touch base. Not wanting to disturb anyone, Susan grabbed the phone on the first ring. She quickly explained what had happened that week in court and also that morning with the attorney.
After having been filled in on everything, the doctor asked, “So, Susan, how are you doing?”
“All right, I guess. It’s hard though, having to sit there while others are talking about my life.”
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