“In the same direction?”
“Yes.”
“And then he turned the rifle toward you?”
“Yes.”
“And fired again?”
“Yes.”
“Will you please, with an arrow, show the direction of that third shot?”
“It’s the one that hit . . . Nicky.”
“If you can, draw the arrow for us.”
Jones’s hand shook slightly as he drew another arrow.
“Thank you, sir,” Lindy said. “You may resume your seat.”
When Oliver Jones was seated again, Lindy said, “So you were the person closest to my client as he was shooting the rifle, is that right?”
“Yes, I guess.”
“After that third shot, what did you do?”
“I . . .” He stopped again, and Lindy wondered if he’d have another breakdown. The emotion in the air was as thick as summer haze.
“Take your time,Mr. Jones.”
“I don’t . . . I’m okay this time. Don’t worry. I’m sorry. Can you please repeat the question?”
“Sure. After the third shot that you testified went past you, what exactly did you do? What was your reaction?”
“I turned back, like I said earlier, and saw . . . Nicky.”
“Yes. And he was on the ground, with blood on his shirt?”
Jones nodded slowly.
“Mr. Jones,” Judge Weyer said, “we need to have an oral response for the record.”
“I’m sorry. Yes. He was down, with blood.”
“And what did you do next?”
“I went to Nicky. I went to him but I . . .” Jones’s breathing quickened.
Leon Colby said, “Your Honor, I wonder if at this time we might allow the witness to step down?”
“Your Honor,” Lindy said, “I would like Mr. Jones to finish his answer. He was about to say something and I’d like to hear what it is.”
“I don’t see the purpose,” Colby said.
“The purpose is my right to cross-examine,” Lindy said.
Colby shook his head and looked to the judge.
“Ms. Field,” said Judge Weyer, “can you wrap things up?”
“Yes, just a few more questions.”
“Please.”
Oliver Jones looked like he’d recovered a little. “You were about to say something,” Lindy said. “You said that you went to the boy, but. Do you recall what you were going to say?”
Jones nodded.
“Please,” Lindy reminded him, “out loud for the record.”
“Yes.” His voice was barely audible.
“What were you about to say?”
“I was about . . . in all the commotion . . . oh dear God, I could’ve stopped it.” Jones looked up, tears beginning to slide down his face.
And his voice rang out like a rifle shot. “I should have tried to stop him! I should have gone at him ! I could have saved the others! I could have . . .”
He began to wail. That was the end of the questioning of Oliver M. Jones.
7.
Leon Colby’s next witness was police officer Kirby Glenn. He looked a little nervous to Lindy, but all business.
“Officer Glenn, how long have you been with the Los Angeles Police Department?”
“Four years.”
“Your current assignment is?”
“West Valley Division.”
“Turning your attention now to the morning of June 26, did you get a call about a possible shooting?”
“Yes.”
“You were in a cruiser with a partner?”
“Curtiss.”
“And you responded to the call?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened when you got to the park?”
“Officer Curtiss and myself, we got out of our vehicle and proceeded to the baseball diamond, where we were met with several people in an agitated state. Some of them pointed toward an area where there was sand and swings and such. I heard one of them say that they had the shooter under control.”
“What did you do then?”
“We proceeded to the sand area and saw several male adults holding down the suspect.”
“Is the suspect present in court?”
“Yes, sir, seated at the counsel table.”
“The witness has identified the defendant,” Judge Weyer said.
“Did you see a weapon?” Colby asked.
“One of the men handed me a rifle and said he had taken it from the suspect.”
Colby walked to his counsel table and picked up the rifle. “Showing you what is marked People’s Two for identification, is this the rifle you were given?”
The witness looked at the rifle and the tag that dangled from it. “Yes.”
“Are those your initials on the tag?”
“Yes.”
“Did you proceed to take the suspect into custody?”
“I did.”
“How would you describe the suspect’s demeanor?”
“He didn’t offer any resistance.”
“He was cooperative?”
“Objection, leading,” Lindy said.
“Sustained.”
“Please expand on your answer that the defendant did not offer resistance,” Colby asked.
“He was cooperative,” said Officer Glenn.
“Did you advise the suspect of his Miranda rights?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say that he understood his rights?”
“He chose not to say anything.”
“Did you question the suspect further?”
“No. We put him in the squad car and waited for RHD.”
“That’s Robbery Homicide Division?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Lindy replaced Colby at the podium. “Officer Glenn, you characterized Darren as cooperative, after Mr. Colby suggested that word to you, is that right?”
“Objection,” Colby said. “Argumentative.”
“Sustained.”
“Let me ask you, just what it was that leads you to suggest Darren was cooperative?”
“Like I said, he offered no resistance.”
“But you also testified he didn’t talk to you, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t suggest cooperation, does it?”
“Not in that sense.”
“You also said Darren chose not to answer your Miranda advisement. You used the word chose, did you not?”
“I may have.”
“Shall I have the court reporter read your answer?”
“No, I remember saying that.”
“Did you read Darren’s mind?”
“Objection,” said Colby.
“Overruled. The witness may answer.”
Officer Glenn said, “Of course not.”
“So how do you know he chose not to answer?”
“Are you kidding?”
“This is not a joke, sir. Answer the question.”
With a disgusted shake of the head, the witness said, “It’s obvious to me, and I think it would be to anybody who wasn’t a lawyer.”
“I move to strike that as nonresponsive and argumentative and unprofessional,” Lindy said.
“I don’t believe unprofessional is in the evidence code,” Colby snapped.
Lindy whirled to face him. “Professionalism is not expected of our police? Is that the DA’s position?”
“That’s enough,” Judge Weyer said. “What’s going on between you two is not professional either. Let’s cool it. There is a motion to strike the witness’s last answer. I’m going to grant the motion. And
I will remind the witness to answer only the question he is asked, understood?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Glenn said.
“Officer Glenn, you do not have a degree in psychology, do you?” Lindy asked.
“No.”
“Never practiced psychology, have you?”
�
��Only on the street every day.”
“Sir, you have never received any specialized academic training in the field of psychology, have you, sir?”
“No.”
“You advised my client of his rights, asked him for a waiver, and he did not give it to you. You did not ask him any more questions, did you?”
“No.”
“Nothing to determine his psychological state.”
“Of course not.”
“In short, Officer Glenn, you have no way of knowing what my client was thinking at the time he was taken into custody by you, isn’t that correct, sir?”
“I know people. I see them—”
“The question can be answered yes or no, sir.”
“Objection,” Colby said. “The witness should be allowed—”
“Overruled. Let’s move on.”
Lindy repeated the question.
“I had an indication what he was thinking, but that’s just my opinion,” Officer Glenn said.
“I think we’ve heard enough opinions,” Lindy said. “No more questions.”
8.
The local news droned on in the background as Lindy went over notes with Roxy. Cardozo perched at the window, looking out at the Valley evening. The day in court had drained Lindy. She’d run a marathon once and knew what it was to hit the wall. Her brain was fast approaching it.
“There’s something bothering me about Jones’s testimony,” Lindy said.
Roxy nodded. “He was pretty emotional.”
“It’s not that.”
“What then?”
“I don’t know. I believe him, don’t you?”
“Sure.”
“But how sure of anything can someone be under that kind of stress? He and Mrs. Kean were together on the big picture, but not necessarily on the details.”
“But what does any of this matter? Everybody knows what happened. Darren shot the kids. Everybody saw it.”
Lindy shook her head. “Something’s off. What is it?”
“You got me.”
“Go over the names.”
“Again?”
“You want to get paid?”
“I haven’t been. You thinking of doing something new?”
“Funny. Give them to me.”
Roxy rolled her eyes and picked up the list, one of several she had made of the names of Darren’s victims. “You ready?”
“Let’s go.”
“Okay. We have Nick Marosi, age eleven. He was standing on first base. And then we have Bobby Landis, eleven, playing third base. Matthew Romney, eleven, was standing on third base for the other team. Cody Thompson was the second baseman for the White Sox. He was twelve. James Glover, right field, ten. And then there was Joel Dorai, one of the coaches.”
“Like Mr. Jones, only at third base.”
“I guess. I’m not much of a baseball fan.”
“There’s no pattern, is there?”
“Random. Wits say he seemed to be shooting at random, and everybody was scattering. What difference does it make?”
“I don’t know. But something better make a difference, and soon. You want another Dr Pepper?”
“Sure. Might as well be up all night with you.”
Lindy got two more cold cans from the fridge, handed one to Roxy. “So how are things with the boyfriend?”
Roxy sighed. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Lindy’s eyebrows went up. “Explain that to me, will you?”
“It means that I haven’t asked and I don’t know how to tell. He’s been quiet lately—”
“Uh-oh.”
“He’s been under some pressure. I can understand.”
“Or so he says.”
“He means it! He’s a good man.”
“How do you know? How does anybody really know anybody else?”
“You’re a fine one to talk.”
“What’s that mean?”
Roxy’s mouth opened but no words came out. She was looking over Lindy’s shoulder. Then she pointed to the TV.
Lindy was on. Entering the courthouse.
“Oh, great.” Lindy sat and watched the highlights of the hearing. The reporter’s voice-over—Sean’s voice—said, “It didn’t take long for defense lawyer Lindy Field to heat things up in what was an emotionally charged courtroom.”
Lindy watched her video-self confront Officer Glenn. This is nota joke, sir. Answer the question.
And the answer. It’s obvious to me, and I think it would be to anybodywho wasn’t a lawyer.
The story cut away to a clip of Darren being led from the courtroom by a deputy sheriff. Sean’s narrative continued.
“He didn’t show the rest!” Lindy said. “I won a motion to strike!”
“ . . . had an effect on the family members of the victims,” Sean was saying. “I spoke to one after the hearing.”
Lindy recognized the woman, the one from the church, the one who sat glaring at her in court, wearing the VOICe button. The caption identified her as Mona Romney. Her eyes looked tired, but her voice was strong.
“I don’t see how they can allow it. The defense lawyer is only interested in badgering the witnesses, trying to get them upset. What she did to Mr. Jones was horrible, putting him through all that. And then trying to make a police officer look bad. It’s so disturbing to have to sit there and watch that.”
Lindy watched silently now, her mouth open, as Sean addressed the camera.
“All indications are, however, that defense lawyer Lindy Field has no intention of going soft on any witness. This trial is going to be a fight over every detail and every word. Relief for the families of the children gunned down is still a long way off. This is Sean McIntyre downtown. Back to the studio.”
“Wow,” Roxy said. “That Sean.”
“I’ll strangle him.”
“It’s like he’s out to get you. What’s up with that?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
9.
A soft but persistent knock rapped on the door. Mona looked out the peephole. She should have expected this.
She opened the door.
“I hope you don’t mind my just dropping by,” Pastor Clark said.
Pastor Clark wore his sincere face tonight. It was probably unfair to think of him as putting on a face, but she didn’t care to revise her feelings. She would accept his presence as the good gesture of a good man who would come and go, leaving her precisely where she was before he came.
Mona, stoic, settled him in the living room. She did not offer anything to drink. He placed his Bible on the table as he sat down. Mona looked at it as if it were a weapon he might pick up and point at her.
“I just wanted to come by and let you know that I, the church, all the resources we have, are here to help you.”
“Resources?”
“Yes.”
“Like psychological counseling?”
“If you want that, then we have some people who—”
“I don’t want it. I’m fine.” She was not fine. She knew it. But would not bend the cold steel of her resolve. To weaken now would hurt Matthew.
“I know in times like this it’s very difficult to think things through, and if—”
“Have you ever lost a child, pastor?”
He shook his head.
“Then you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He took the hit without the slightest frown. “I’m not going to argue that point. I will not pretend to know what you’re going through. But maybe you can hear me out on one thing? And then I’ll go.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ve been to many homes, Mona, and I’ve sat with people going through all sorts of things. And even though I have not experienced everything they’ve experienced, I do believe I’ve been called by God to minister to people, and to do it through the Word.”
He paused. Mona waited for him to get it over with.
Pastor Clark picked up his Bible and placed it
on his lap. “The Word says something that’s very hard, but is, I think, the key to the whole thing. It says to forgive those who have sinned against us, and I believe when we do that, God takes hold of us and brings us out of the depths.”
His words came into her head and died there. She nodded, wishing he would go.
“You know as well as I do the emphasis Jesus placed on forgiveness.”
Mona nodded, meaning nothing by it.
“If you can forgive the boy who did this, Mona, I know God will work in you. And in your family.”
“Isn’t that why you’re really here? Because Brad asked you to come?”
“Brad’s your husband, and I know he loves you deeply.”
“Did he ask you to come see me?”
Clark swallowed and said, “I would have come anyway, Mona. I hope you believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“May I have a word of prayer with you?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Just a short—”
“Thank you for coming.”
TWELVE
1.
Sean lived in a secure building, which meant that Lindy had to wait for someone to come out. She smiled at a young man as she caught the door. He seemed oblivious. A perfect urban role model.
Lindy took the elevator to the sixth floor. At Sean’s door she gave a friendly knock then covered the peephole with her hand.
After a moment Sean’s voice from inside said, “Who is it?”
“Domino’s,” Lindy said.
“What?”
“You ordered a pizza.”
“I didn’t—” The door opened. “I thought that was you,” he said.
Lindy pushed past Sean, who was shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans. “We’re talking.”
“You saw my report, I take it.” He followed her into the living room. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. And don’t start with your little-boy routine.”
“You know, you could get in trouble breaking into this building.”
“I want you to lay off.”
Sean smiled and ran one hand over his abs, which were, truth be told, rock solid. Why did men in L.A. who were halfway hot have to be jerks? “Let me get you something to drink, and we’ll talk about this civilized.”
“Sean, I don’t want to be civilized with you. I want to know why you’re out to make me look like a dummy. I want to know who’s grinding your ax.”
Sins of the Fathers Page 17