“You see this man, ladies and gentlemen? This man is a kind, generous person trying to make an honest living in a car dealership.” Alan walked back to the jury box. “There’s no doubt business is bad. It’s bad for everyone in this day and age. But a chop shop?” Alan shook his head in disgust. “Our district attorney has a creative mind. She’s trying to make you believe my client is a tyrant, but that’s just not so.” Alan cocked his head to the side and gave a slight smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Patrick Sawyer I know is an upstanding citizen who has donated his money to more charities throughout this city than most people. He’s even gotten down into the trenches by working in soup kitchens helping plate food for the homeless. But that wasn’t enough for him. He had to take it one step further. So you know what he did? He bought beds because he couldn’t bear the thought of someone being turned away from the shelter because they were out of beds.” Alan paused, making eye contact again with each person sitting in the jury box. “Now, I ask you. Does this sound like the same person the DA has described? Certainly not! And when this case is ready for your deliberations, there will be no doubt in your mind as to my client’s innocence. And yes, my client’s insurance company paid a hefty fee to the family. I’m not suggesting money can negate the loss of a human life, but Lieutenant Harwell has made it his mission to put Mr. Sawyer away. We can certainly understand the lieutenant’s grief. But it was an accident, nothing more, nothing less.” Alan walked back behind Patrick at the defense table and rested his hands on his client’s shoulders. Patrick flashed a weak smile to the jurors.
Alan turned and walked back to the defense table.
“Thank you,” the judge said. “Let’s take a fifteen-minute break before we begin the trial.” He squinted his eyes to see the clock on the wall. “Court will resume at ten thirty, at which time, the prosecution will call its first witness.”
31
“Is the prosecution ready to call its first witness?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” the DA announced. “The People call Detective Zachary Gerard.”
Zach’s stomach tightened, knowing he would be testifying in front of his father.
The court clerk approached. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
“State your full name, and occupation for the record.”
“Zachary Alan Gerard, detective third class, 21st Precinct, NYPD.”
“You have the same last name as the defendant’s attorney,” the District Attorney announced. “Is Alan Gerard any relation to you?”
“Yes. Mr. Gerard is my father.”
Samantha walked to the center of the room and stood before Zach. “Detective, have you discussed this case with your father?”
“Absolutely not.”
“With a response like that, I believe you.” She smiled and walked away, turning to speak to Zach over her shoulder.
“Detective, were you the arresting officer of the defendant, Patrick Sawyer?”
“My partner and I were the arresting officers.”
“Is the accused in this courtroom today?”
“Yes.”
“Can you show us where he’s sitting?”
Zach nodded his head toward Patrick. “He’s at the defense table with the red tie.” All heads turned to look at Sawyer.
“Detective, will you tell the court the events that led up to the arrest?”
“On August 23, 2007, at approximately 3:50 AM, my partner and I were called to a crime scene at Bow Bridge in Central Park.” Zach looked directly at Patrick Sawyer ready to describe the scene to watch the expression on his face. “When we arrived, two paramedics were carrying the only survivor of an automobile crash on a stretcher to their vehicle. She was unconscious at the time, but eventually awoke and was disoriented and drowsy.”
Zach savored Sawyer’s reaction as he watched his body tense and his fingers curl into a ball. Alan jotted something on his pad.
“My partner stayed with the woman until the EMS vehicle drove away. In the meantime, I headed to the scene at Bow Bridge where I found the vehicle, which was subsequently identified as the car the woman was driving.”
“I direct your attention to Peoples one through five,” Samantha announced to the jury. Twelve heads turned to view the slide on the screen. “Will you describe these pictures for us?”
“Yes. This is a front-end view of the vehicle. As you can see, the front of the car is pushed tightly against one of the pillars of the bridge.” Samantha clicked the fob and nodded to Zach. “This picture is the rear view of the vehicle where the defendant rammed into the car several times.”
Samantha picked up the pointer and placed it on the screen. “Detective, what are we looking at here?”
“Those are traces of black paint from the defendant’s vehicle.”
“Were you able to determine what type of vehicle hit this car from behind?”
“Yes.”
“What was that vehicle?”
“From the location of the dents on the Volvo, we determined it to be an SUV.”
“Were there any other markings that confirmed your suspicion?”
“Yes, the plaster mold we made from the tire tracks leading up to the Volvo.”
Samantha nodded to the bailiff. He stepped in front of the jury box holding a mangled grill.
“Detective, is this the grill from the perpetrators vehicle?”
“Yes.”
The bailiff returned the item to the table and picked up another piece. “How about this mangled bumper?”
“Yes. It came from the same vehicle.”
Samantha moved in closer to the bailiff and pointed to markings on the bumper. “Detective, can you tell the court what these marks are on the bumper?”
“Blue paint.”
“Will you tell the court the color of the mangled Volvo?”
“Blue.”
Samantha walked to the jury box and leaned against it. “Detective Gerard, will you also tell the court what type of vehicle the defendant drove prior to August 23, 2007?”
Zach looked directly at the jurors when he answered his question. “A black Mercedes SUV.”
Samantha turned slowly and headed back to the stand in front of Zach. “With so many black Mercedes SUVs out there, Detective, how did you determine these items to be from the defendant’s vehicle?”
“We obtained this evidence from what was believed, and later confirmed to be, a chop shop owned by Mr. Sawyer.”
“Did you find it in a pile on the premises?”
“No, the manager, Vito Lorenzano, provided the damaged car parts.”
“And why would Mr. Lorenzano hold onto these parts? Is that normal procedure?”
“I don’t know if it’s normal procedure, but I do know Mr. Lorenzano kept them for safe-keeping as proof.”
Patrick’s fists tightened into a ball. Alan Gerard leaned over and whispered something to his client who quickly shoved his hands under the table, then shifted uneasily in his seat.
“Okay, Detective Gerard. Was there anything else at the crime scene?”
“Yes. Fifty feet to the right of the vehicle was the body of Lenny Scerbo, a new employee at the chop shop operated by Mr. Sawyer and our Confidential Informant who we’d planted at the shop. He died from a close range gunshot wound to the back of his head.”
“What kind of gun was used?”
“It was a .45 caliber.”
“Was such a gun registered to Mr. Sawyer?”
“No it was not.”
“Is there anyone else related to this case who does have such a firearm?”
“There is a .45 caliber firearm registered to a Sonny Alexander.”
“And did you contact this Sonny Alexander to confirm this was in fact his firearm?”
“Sonny Alexander was the assumed name Mr. Sawyer used in his chop shop.”
“How do you know this?”
“His daughter confirmed he
was known as Sonny by Maria Alexander.”
“Okay, Detective. Let’s get back to the woman at the crime scene.” Samantha rested her hand on the railing of the jury box. “Was the woman’s body found inside the vehicle?”
“No, Jane Doe, as she was called until we had a positive ID, was found unconscious at the edge of the bedrock platform in the Ramble.”
Samantha flipped the chart to show the map of Central Park. “Can you tell the court where the Ramble is located in relation to the crime scene?”
Zach turned his body toward the easel and pointed his finger toward the map. “As you can see, the bridge is located west of Bethesda Terrace which connects Cherry Hill and the Ramble, about mid-Park at 74th Street.”
Samantha placed the pointer on the diagram. “Is this the location, Detective?”
“Yes. As you can see from the map, the Ramble is a heavily wooded area, with a long drop from the bedrock platform where the victim was found, to the lake below. If the victim had walked any further, she would have fallen down the hill and into the water, and likely drowned.”
“Is this the exact spot the body of the unconscious woman was found?”
“Yes.”
“Did she have any personal identification on her?”
“No. There was nothing on her person or anything in the vehicle that belonged to her. We checked the surrounding areas and dredged the lake, but nothing turned up.”
“She didn’t even have a registration in the car to identify her?”
“No. There was no registration, and after tracing the VIN, we found the car was not registered to her?”
“So Mrs. Sawyer was not the rightful owner of this vehicle?”
“That’s correct. We later traced the ownership of the vehicle to a John Graham, who told us he saw Mrs. Sawyer run from behind a house on West 87th Street. Mr. Graham said she jumped into his car, which had been double-parked and left with the motor running, while he walked his date to the door. Shortly after, the black SUV backed out of a driveway and raced to catch up to the Volvo.”
“Is it your opinion the woman was running from something?” Samantha asked.
“Objection, Your Honor,” Alan said. “Ms. Richards is leading the witness.”
The judge scowled. “I agree counselor. Miss Richards, you know better than that.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
“The court stenographer will strike Ms. Richards’ last question from the trial transcript,” Judge Cooper ordered
Samantha cleared her throat. “Did Mr. Graham know the woman who stole his vehicle?”
“No.”
“Did his date know the woman?”
“No. His date was from out of state, visiting her aunt, who does live on West 87th Street.”
“Is that where the Sawyer’s also live?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Samantha continued. “Can you tell the court what happened to the woman you’ve described as Jane Doe while at Lenox Hill Hospital?”
“Detective Bradshaw, from our precinct, was already at the hospital and stayed with the woman while we finished our investigation at the crime scene.”
“Then what happened? Did you ever go to the hospital to see her?”
“We received a call a few hours afterward that she was missing from the hospital.”
“What went through your mind, Detective, when you received that call?”
“That the assailant had returned.”
Alan Gerard stood, his finger firmly erect in the air. “Your Honor, Ms. Richards is taking tremendous liberties here. She’s asking her witness to speculate.”
“Approach the bench,” Judge Cooper said, his voice vibrating with impatience. The two attorneys stepped forward. “Ms. Richards,” he said in a deep timbre voice, his hand covering the microphone. “Your behavior is out of order. This is your last warning. I will not tolerate this nonsense in my courtroom. The next time, I’ll slap a contempt charge on you and throw you in jail. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I apologize.”
“You may proceed,” he said with a nod.
Samantha walked back to the prosecutor’s table and checked her notes.
“Tell me, Detective, did the hospital have a security camera?”
“They did, but it was out of order that day.”
“Did the hospital perform any blood tests on the woman?”
“No. From what we were told, victims from a massive bus accident at the downtown Brown and Lowe Insurance Building took precedence. After the initial clean up of Jane Doe’s facial and arm lacerations, her injuries were deemed to be minor by comparison. When it was determined she wasn’t in an emergent condition, she was left in the hallway with other patients. “
“Detective, let’s fast-forward now. How did you ultimately learn this victim was Amanda Sawyer?”
“We had a piece of flesh we’d found on the broken window of the vehicle where it was determined she’d ultimately exited from the vehicle she stole, and a torn piece of fabric from the dress she was wearing.”
“Detective, what happened to the dress Jane Doe wore to the hospital?”
“It apparently went missing along with Jane Doe.”
“You mean, she wore that torn dress when she left the hospital?”
“Not to our knowledge. It’s believed that Jane Doe left the hospital in a pair of scrubs, and the brown bag containing her garment went missing with her.”
“The DNA sampling performed by our lab on those three items matched her parents and daughter.”
“Was there anything else unusual on that piece of fabric . . . besides blood?”
“Yes, there was a foreign mucus of some sort, which turned out to be the DNA of the defendant after testing was completed.”
“Did you have the defendant’s DNA?”
“No, not at first. He refused to give us a sample until we obtained a court order.”
“You searched the defendant’s residence, didn’t you?”
“Yes, we did.”
“What prompted you to go to the Sawyer household?”
“The Milligans, the parents of Mrs. Sawyer, came to the precinct to file a Missing Persons Report after receiving a call from their youngest daughter, who’d first alerted them she thought Amanda was missing.”
“Did they visit the Sawyer house and see it in disarray?”
“Yes.”
“Did they have a key to the residence?”
“Yes.”
“Did they give you the key to the residence, or did you obtain a warrant?”
“We first obtained a search warrant, then used the Milligan’s key to gain entry into the residence.”
“Detective Gerard, is this a photo of the residence?”
“Yes,” Zach said, pleased with his performance. “As you can see from this photo, it was a mess. Upon entering the residence, there were some very expensive statues that had been broken scattered on the floor in the circular foyer. It looked as though there’d been a scuffle of some sort in the living room. The kitchen counter was a mess, with items such as a box of cereal on its side; the contents strewn all over the counter; half-eaten bowls of cereal sitting in curdled milk, and a half-gallon container of milk that was curdled.”
“To your knowledge, was anything stolen from the residence?”
“Not that we could tell. Upon the completion of our investigation, Mr. Sawyer was allowed to return to the home.”
“Did Mr. Sawyer ever file a complaint regarding the break-in?”
“We have nothing on record stating he filed a claim.”
Samantha paced back and forth, the frown lines on her forehead wrinkled in thought. She stopped in front of Zach. “Detective, did you ever find out how the burglars got into the residence?”
“We determined that there was no forced entry anywhere in the residence.”
“So lets see, no forced entry, no claim filed from the defendant . . . did that seem odd to you?”
“Yes. After the investigation was completed, it was ultimately decided this was a staged break-in.”
“Did you tell Mr. Sawyer this was your conclusion?” Samantha said, walking in front of the defense table. She gave Sawyer a cold stare. Zach paused and watched the District Attorney. He sensed her strategy was to tempt the defendant’s lack of self-control for the jurors to see. Zach watched Sawyer with interest, waiting to see whether he’d bite. When Patrick’s nostrils flared, Alan scribbled something on a piece of paper and shoved it over to his client. Patrick’s demeanor changed. He squared his shoulders, and shoved back into his chair.
“Detective?” Samantha queried.
“Yes . . . we informed him of our conclusion.”
“What was his reaction?”
“First he laughed, then he became angry and suggested we were looking for a scapegoat.”
Samantha clicked the remote, nothing happened. She clicked it several times in succession, and still nothing happened. Her mouth twisted to the side. “It appears our slide projector has given up on us.” She walked back to the prosecutor’s table and took the stack of photos her assistant held in his outstretched hand, then turned and made her way across the room to stand in front of Zach. “Detective, will you look at these photos?” She handed them over, and spoke while Zach viewed them. “Is this the Sawyer residence you referred to earlier?”
“Yes.” When he finished viewing them, he handed them back to her. She walked to the jury box, and handed the photos to the foreperson for viewing.
She returned and handed him two more photos. “Detective, tell me what you see in these two photos?”
“The first photo is a spot of blood on the carpet in the master bedroom, and the second photo is a picture of blood on the living room carpet.”
Killer Romances Page 228