They had done good work that week, and Sam and Jack were pleased too. They took a minute to talk before they left the courtroom. Sam was always impressed by her precision and good judgment and had said as much to his superiors. The proof would be in the trial, of course, but he was extremely pleased by how she handled every detail. And so was Joe McCarthy, who had slipped into the courtroom several times that week to watch the jury selection process. He had added his approval to her choices, and thought she had wisely avoided some bad ones.
“Well, we’ve got our jury of twelve peers for Mr. Quentin,” Alexa said to Jack and Sam, as she put her papers and legal pads back in her briefcase. It was so heavy now that she had to pull it on wheels.
“Ready for your close-up, Ms. Hamilton?” Sam teased her as they left the courtroom. It was no surprise they were met by a wall of press who wanted to know what she thought about the jury. What felt like a million lights went off in her face.
“We’re satisfied with the jury” was all she would say as she pushed through them without further comment or expression. Jack tried to lead the way, and Sam stayed close to her with several policemen, but the heat was on her and she took it well. There was a van waiting for them outside so they could make their getaway. Alexa had a cop with her all the time now, and she had to go back to her office before wrapping up for the weekend. Jack said he’d go with her, and they dropped Sam off at the FBI office, and wished each other a good weekend. And he said he’d be available on his cell phone all weekend, they all would. Alexa had thought briefly about flying down to Charleston to see Savannah, but she knew she couldn’t. She had too much material to go over and her opening statement to polish some more.
She was just walking into her office when her cell phone rang. It was Savannah.
“I just saw you on TV,” she said proudly, “leaving the courthouse. You were great.” Alexa laughed.
“That’s rank prejudice. All I said was ‘We’re satisfied with the jury,’ and no further comment. I don’t see how you could think I was great, but thank you.” It touched her that Savannah was following it so closely.
“Daisy and Dad thought so too,” she confirmed. It had been a consensus. Luisa was out playing bridge. “You looked calm and collected, and you didn’t let them push you around. You just said what you wanted to and kept going and you didn’t let them make you nervous. At least you didn’t look it. And your hair looked good.” She had worn it in a ponytail with a satin ribbon, instead of a bun, all week. It seemed less uptight.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Well, we’ll see what happens next week. I think they’re a pretty good jury. I hope I’m right. I was thinking I might come down this weekend, but I just can’t,” she said, sounding disappointed, but Savannah wasn’t surprised.
“I didn’t expect you to, Mom. Things must be crazy for you right now.”
“Pretty much,” she admitted. “What do you have planned for the weekend?”
“I’m going to one of Turner’s games tomorrow, and he’s coming over tonight to hang out.” There was an old playroom in the basement that her brothers had used when they were young. There was a Ping Pong table and a pool table, and her father had suggested they could visit there. Luisa never went down to the basement, and it seemed more respectable than having Turner in her room.
“Say hi to him for me,” Alexa said, and then got back to work at her desk. Sam Lawrence called her a little while later.
“Am I disturbing you?” he asked respectfully. It was Friday night by then.
“Not at all. I’m still at work,” she said in a pleasant tone. He was a nice man, and working with him had gone well so far. They had a great deal of mutual respect, and he and Jack had become friends in the past months.
“Sounds like we keep the same kind of hours. I’m going to move into my office pretty soon,” he laughed. But they were all going to work night and day during the trial. Judy Dunning was too, and even more so, since she had less support, and she didn’t have the FBI helping her. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really happy with the jury, and I thought you handled the selection process very well. You’re a real pro,” he complimented her, which was high praise coming from him. FBI agents rarely approved of anyone except FBI.
“I hope so, with a case like this.” She smiled.
“Let me know if I can do anything to help over the weekend.”
“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. And with Savannah away, she had no distractions and no obligations other than her work.
She spent the rest of the weekend working at home, going through boxes of forensic reports and evidence, working on her opening statement, and organizing the prosecution down to the last detail. By Monday morning, she felt fully prepared.
On Monday morning, they met in Sam’s office and went to the courthouse together. The press were waiting, and it was a pushing, shoving, shouting match to get through them, and Alexa made her way through the crowd, looking calm, with five cops and Jack and Sam to help. She didn’t have a hair out of place when she got into the courtroom and sat down at the prosecution table, looking unruffled. She seemed businesslike, competent, and totally in control.
Judy Dunning was already at the defense table. Luke Quentin came in with four deputies, and sat down next to her. And five minutes later the judge walked to the bench and sat down. Court was convened. Without pause, he instructed the jury as to what was expected of them. He spoke in simple, clear terms about the process, and thanked them for giving up their time to be there. He said they had a very important job, perhaps the most important job in the courtroom, more than his as judge, or the attorneys. And they nodded and looked at him seriously as they listened.
And then Alexa rose to give her opening statement. She had been preparing it for a month. She was wearing a serious black suit and heels. She introduced herself to the jury and explained what her role was, as prosecutor. She explained that the man sitting next to her at counsel’s table, Jack Jones, was the chief investigating detective on the case, and she spoke about him for a minute. She then mentioned Sam Lawrence and explained that he was the chief senior representative of the FBI on the case. That was their team.
“And why do we have the FBI here?” she asked quietly, walking in front of them, and looking each one in the eye. “Because these crimes were committed in many states. Nine states. Eighteen young women were killed in nine states.” She didn’t overemphasize it but said it perfectly, as though to engrave the numbers in their minds. “And when state lines are crossed, when a defendant goes from one state to another to commit crimes, then the FBI gets involved, to coordinate information, so there is no mistake or confusion between local law enforcement agencies. All that information is pooled so that what we submit to you, ladies and gentlemen, is correct. Having the FBI here means it’s an important case. And it is an important case. Not because the FBI is here, but because eighteen young women died. They were violently attacked and killed. Brutally raped, strangled during sex, and killed. Eighteen of them. The youngest one was eighteen, and the oldest twenty-five, a medical student. The eighteen-year-old was a theology major.” She wanted to stress their respectability to the jury and did so effectively. All eyes in the courtroom were riveted to her, as she spoke calmly and with enormous dignity and strength. She had talent at what she did, as Jack and Sam and everyone in the courtroom observed her.
“Their murderer didn’t happen on them, he didn’t just run into them and rape them and kill them by accident, which would have been terrible too. He planned it. He sought them out. We believe he looked for them and observed them, and chose them, and did exactly what he planned to do, with malicious intent. He planned to rape them and kill them, because that’s what turned him on. He killed them because that was his ultimate pleasure. The defendant in this case likes ‘snuff’ films, where women are killed during sex. He wanted to live out that fantasy and went out of his way to do it, killing eighteen young women for thrills. Murder in the first degree is when you pla
n to kill someone, you intend to kill them, and you do. It’s not an accident, it’s planned, ‘with malice aforethought.’ You know what that means. These young women were violently raped and murdered. It was a plan. And the plan was carried out. And now they’re dead.
“I know some of you have children. I asked you that question when we selected you as jurors. But even if you don’t have children, I know you must be shocked by these crimes. We all are.
“I have a daughter, she’s seventeen. I think she’s beautiful, and she means everything to me. Everything. She’s a senior in high school, and she’s going to college in the fall.” She didn’t say Princeton so as not to appear elitist. “She plays volleyball and is on the swim team, and I think she’s the sweetest kid in the world. I’m a single mom, and she’s an only child, so she’s all I have.” She paused, and looked at each one closely. She had just become human to them. She was a single mom with a child, and they could trust her. She wanted them to know that. Some nodded understandingly as she spoke. She had them now.
“Six of these eighteen girls were only children. Seven of them had single moms. Nine of them were students and had jobs to support their education and help their families. Two were oldest children whose moms had died, and they took care of their siblings. Four were outstanding students. Eight had scholarships or had had them. Eleven of them were religious and active in their churches. Five of them were engaged. They played sports, they had siblings and moms and dads, and dogs, and teachers who knew and loved them, and boyfriends and friends. All of them were respected and loved in their communities, and are greatly missed. And all of them were killed by the defendant sitting in front of you. All of them. Eighteen girls. We believe that’s the truth. The State believes it, eight other states believe it, the FBI believes it, and I think that when you hear the evidence in this case, you will believe it too.
“It takes a special kind of person to commit crimes like this, to be so without conscience, so unfeeling as to kill eighteen young women, while raping them, because that’s what turns you on, and you planned it. That’s a terrible way to die, and a terrible reason.
“The State believes beyond any doubt, and will prove to you, that Luke Quentin, the man at the defense table in this courtroom, raped and killed these eighteen young women, with malicious intent.
“We can’t allow people who behave this way to walk among us, to hurt our children, to kill people we love. People who commit crimes like this need to be put in prison and punished for those crimes. If not, none of our children or loved ones are safe, and we aren’t either.
“We feel sure that Luke Quentin killed these eighteen women. We can prove it, and we will prove it to you during this trial, beyond a reasonable doubt. And if you agree with the evidence, and the State, we will ask you to find him guilty of killing and raping eighteen women. It’s all we can do now for the eighteen girls who died.” She looked at them for a long moment, and then spoke softly. “Thank you.” She went back to sit at the prosecutor’s table. The jury looked shaken, and several were squirming in their seats. Sam Lawrence nodded his approval when she sat down. It had been a powerful opening statement and proved to him again she was the right person for the job.
As she sat down, Luke was whispering to his attorney, and she nodded. The defense was not obliged to make an opening statement, but Judy Dunning had decided to anyway. She knew that what Alexa would have to say would be too powerful to let it just hang in the air, without at least trying to mitigate it before the trial began. The public defender had told the judge earlier that she would be making an opening statement too.
She got up and walked to where the jury was sitting, and she looked sad, and serious as she gazed at them. She told them who she was, and that she would be defending Luke Quentin.
“I wanted you to know, ladies and gentlemen, that I’m sad about those eighteen girls too. We all are. So is Luke Quentin. Who wouldn’t be? Eighteen young lives and beautiful girls gone forever. What a terrible, terrible thing.
“And you will hear a great deal of evidence in this case, some of it very technical, of what happened, how it happened, when it happened, and who may have done it. The State believes that Luke Quentin did it. Ms. Hamilton just told you that. But we don’t believe it. Not for a minute. Luke Quentin did not kill those women, and we are going to do everything we can to prove that to you.
“Sometimes terrible circumstances come together, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, people making it look as though you did something you didn’t. It looks like you’ve done something awful, but you haven’t. All the stars and circumstances and bad luck conspire against you, and you’re blamed for something you didn’t do.”
She looked at each of them intently, from one face to another. “Luke Quentin did not commit those murders. He did not rape or kill those women. And we will prove that to you, beyond a reasonable doubt. If you believe us, or have any doubt whatsoever that Luke Quentin committed these crimes, then we are asking for an acquittal. Don’t punish an innocent man, no matter how terrible these crimes.” And with that, she went back to her seat. The judge called a twenty-minute recess immediately after.
Both Jack and Sam congratulated Alexa on her opening statement and its impact on the jury.
“Judy’s wasn’t bad either,” she said fairly. She didn’t have much to work with, and would have even less as the days wore on, but at least she had raised a question in their minds. Alexa knew it was the best she could do.
They went to get coffee out of the machine, drank it quickly, and were back at the prosecution table when Judge Lieberman rapped his gavel and brought the court to order again. He told Alexa to call her first witness.
She called Jason Yu from the forensics lab because he was personable and would make the DNA tests easier for the jury to understand. Afterward she would call experts, whose information would be harder to digest. With Alexa questioning him, he explained the DNA tests that had first linked Quentin to the bodies in New York. She had him on the stand for close to an hour, and then the judge called a recess for lunch. Jason Yu had done well, and she thanked him. Judy was going to cross-examine him after lunch.
Sam, Jack, and Alexa went out to lunch, but Alexa was too nervous to eat. She was running on adrenaline and spent most of the lunch hour making notes and jotting down additional questions. The two men chatted about sports while she worked, and then they went back to the courtroom.
The public defender’s cross-examination of Jason Yu was weak. She tried to confuse him, unsuccessfully, and make his information and tests sound unreliable and inconclusive, but each time he explained his material more precisely and more clearly. She was starting to look foolish and dismissed him, and said she had no further questions. Neither did Alexa.
Alexa called one of her expert witnesses after that, and his testimony was long, drawn out, and potentially confusing. But there was nothing she could do. The evidence he presented was important to their case. She knew there would be many witnesses like that from several states. And she was afraid it would bore the jury, but they each had something important to contribute.
On the whole, the first day went well, and so did the first week. Despite the heinousness of the crimes, there was little emotional testimony in the case. It was all very technical. There were no eyewitnesses, the parents had no testimony to give.
The most emotional factor in the courtroom was the enormous section of seats cordoned off for the relatives of the victims. There were a hundred and nine people in those seats, watching the proceedings intently and many of them crying. Instinctively, the jury knew who they were and looked at them often. Alexa had referred to them once, so they’d know, and Judy had objected. But by then the jury knew, and it was too late. Charlie sat among them with his family, who had come to see justice done.
Mostly the case involved the presentation of technical forensic data that systematically linked Luke Quentin to each victim and her death. Cross-examination involved refuting that evidence, and t
he public defender didn’t have the skills or evidence to do it. It was a hard case to beat. Alexa and Sam met with Judy on Friday afternoon after court was recessed for the weekend.
“I just wanted to suggest to you again,” Alexa said calmly, “that you get your client to plead. We’re all wasting our time here.”
“I don’t think we are,” Judy Dunning said stubbornly. “People make mistakes in DNA tests. Sometimes all they do is exclude one group of people without accurately pinpointing others. I think the cops in every state pinned every unsolved murder they had on Luke. If there was one mistake made, just one, if one of those cases was wrong, or poorly handled, it will raise a reasonable doubt that could overturn all the others.” It was a long shot, but the only one she had. And investigation teams in nine states and the FBI had seen to it that there were no mistakes. Alexa thought she was being foolish and committing legal suicide for her client in open court. “He has nothing to lose and he has a right to a trial,” Judy said darkly, as though she were watching an innocent man be crucified, instead of a merciless killer being brought to justice. She still believed in her client’s innocence, that much was clear. She wasn’t just doing a job, she was leading a crusade, for a lost cause. Judy seemed painfully naïve to Alexa.
“He has a lot to lose,” Alexa pointed out to her. “The judge is going to be much tougher on him if he wastes everyone’s time. No one is going to be sympathetic to him, or give him a break. He’d be a lot better off if he strikes a deal now, before we go through weeks of trial. The judge is going to get pissed,” Alexa warned her, and Jack agreed with her completely, and felt that a good attorney would have forced Luke to plead. Judy was too weak to do it, and too enthralled by Luke. “If I were his attorney,” Alexa said quietly, “I would make him plead.” The judge might give him concurrent sentences instead of consecutive, which could extend far beyond Luke’s lifetime. Concurrent sentencing was the best he could hope for.
Southern Lights Page 22