Lethal Defense

by Michael Stagg

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Jeff stood and made his slow way to the podium and seemed to think for a moment. “Dr. Gerchuk, you mentioned that both of Mr. Chase's arms were broken, didn't you?”

  “I did.”

  “And you indicated that those were most likely defensive injuries?”

  “Most likely.”

  “And those injuries occur when a person raises their hands to block blows coming in, right?

  “That's true.”

  “So the blows that he was blocking would've been powerful enough to break bones, right?”

  “These were, Mr. Hanson, yes.”

  “Now Mr. Shepherd asked you about some scrapes on Mr. Chase's knuckles. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes.”

  “That's what they were, scrapes on his knuckles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it possible for a person to scrape his knuckles when he’s blocking blows that break his bones?”

  I stood. “Objection, Your Honor.”

  “Withdrawn, Your Honor. Now, Mr. Shepherd also asked you about the fingerprints you took of Mr. Chase. Do you recall that?”

  “I do.”

  “You received the personal possessions of Mr. Chase along with the body, didn't you?”

  “I did.”

  “And did that include a driver's license and photo ID?”

  “It did.”

  “So you had Mr. Chase’s driver's license?”

  “I did.”

  “Then why did you have to take his fingerprints to help identify him?”

  Ray Gerchuk didn't blink. “Because his face was unrecognizable.”

  “What do you mean his face was unrecognizable, Dr. Gerchuk?”

  “I mean it wasn't possible to match his face to the picture on his driver's license.”

  “Are you telling the jury that Mr. Chase’s face was so broken and misshapen and bloody that it wasn’t possible to determine who he was?”

  Sometimes you have to pass on an objection, even though it might be sustained, because the objection will just emphasize the point. If I objected here, I would be emphasizing that Chase’s face was so broken, misshapen, and bloody that it was impossible to identify him, which the jury had already seen in photos six feet high. I stayed seated.

  “That's true,” said Dr. Gerchuk. “His features were distorted from the blows.”

  “Now Dr. Gerchuk, I understand that Mr. Chase's features were distorted. Were some of them also missing?

  I glanced at Lindsey, quickly so the jury wouldn't notice. She shook her head slightly.

  “They were. Or one was, I should say.”

  “One identifying feature was missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was that?”

  “The victim's nose.”

  The court grew silent. All eyes were on Dr. Gerchuk, and when no questions were forthcoming, they shifted to Jeff, who stood there slowly shaking his head. “Dr. Gerchuk.” He drew it out. “Are you saying Dillon Chase’s nose was gone?”

  “Yes.”

  Jeff rummaged around in his pile of blow-ups, taking his time, until he found the one he wanted. I looked at it. I looked at the jury. All of their eyes were on the picture.

  “Could you show me what you mean?” said Jeff.

  Ray Gerchuk took a laser pointer and circled an area in the center of Dillon Chase's misshapen head. It might just as well of been the laser sight of a rifle pointed right at Hank Braggi's head.

  “Do you see this area here?” Dr. Gerchuck circled the laser pointer around a bloody hole.

  “I do,” said Jeff.

  “That's where the nose would normally be.”

  I had stared at that picture a hundred times. I had seen the caved-in skull and the misshapen mass and the broken teeth, but the head was caved-in in such a way the damage was so catastrophic that it just hadn’t occurred to me to emphasize that the nose was gone. Not once.

  “Can you tell the jury what happened to it?”

  “I don't know exactly. My understanding is that the tissue was never found at the scene.”

  “Do you have a theory?”

  I stood. “Objection, Your Honor. Dr. Gerchuk can only testify as to what's probable.”

  “Sustained,” said Judge Gallon, but she clearly wanted to hear as much as everyone else what Dr. Gerchuck thought.

  “Fair enough,” said Jeff. “Dr. Gerchuk, does the physical evidence indicate to you that Mr. Chase his nose was removed?”

  “It does.

  “How?”

  “The nose should be here.” Ray circled the gaping hole with the laser pointer again. “Do you see this jutting bone?”

  “I do.” Jeff looked at the jury to make sure they saw it too.

  “That's the base of the nose and the skull. Now, do you see this torn tissue?” He traced a ragged line of flesh in a triangle up and down the bone ridge. Now that the coroner was pointing it out to me with the laser pointer, I saw it clearly.

  “I do.”

  “That's the skin where the nose used to be connected. The cartilage, though, is all gone.”

  “Can you tell how it was removed.?”

  “I've seen this before and it's consistent with one of two things.”

  I stood. “Objection, Your Honor. If he can't testify to a probability as to which one it is, then the evidence doesn't come in.”

  “Your Honor, I believe Dr. Gerchuk is going to testify, to a certainty it was one of two things.”

  Judge Gallon looked at him. “Is that true, Dr. Gerchuk?”

  Ray Gerchuck nodded in a solemn, charming, defense-killing kind of way. “It is.”

  “Overruled. You may answer the question, Dr. Gerchuk.”

  Dr. Gerchuck used the infernal laser pointer. “Do you see how the skin is jagged here on the right and then becomes smooth and tails away on the left?”

  Jeff shook his head in a disingenuous, questioning way. “I'm sorry, Dr. Gerchuk, I don't. Can you show me?”

  Dr. Gerchuk ran the laser pointer over the jagged line on the right side of the hole. “See how it's jagged here”—he traced the line—“and then it becomes a smooth tear that tails up toward the eye?”

  “I do now, thank you. What does that tell us?”

  “It tells us that the skin was grabbed here on the right and then lifted and torn to the left.”

  “And what does that tell us about the mechanism of injury?”

  “See these squared off indentations here, on the right?” He circled with the laser pointer again.

  “I do.”

  “In this situation, I would say that this is consistent with one of two things.”

  “And what are those?”

  “It is either the front tread of a work boot or teeth.

  Jeff looks surprised. “Teeth? Are you saying Dillon Chase's nose was bitten off?”

  “Or kicked off. I'm not sure which. But it was one of the two.”

  “Goodness,” said Jeff and slowly made his way back toward his table. When he got there, he turned and tapped the table three times with one of his thick fingers. “Dr. Gerchuk, were you ever provided with Mr. Chase’s nose?”

  Ray shook his head. “As I mentioned, I was not.”

  “Would you expect it to be given to you if it was found at the scene?”

  “Usually I’m given anything related to the body so I can examine it.”

  “But no nose here?”

  “No.”

  “No further questions. Your Honor.”

  Judge Gallon turned me. “Re-cross, Mr. Shepherd?” Her look made it clear she thought that would be an awful idea.

  “Just one, Your Honor. Dr. Gerchuk, the injury to Mr. Chase’s nose didn’t cause his death, did it?”

  Ray Gerchuck appeared to actually think about it. “No, Mr. Shepherd, it didn’t.“

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Judge Gallon nodded. “You may be excused, Dr. Gerchuk.” As Ray Gerchuck walk
ed down the aisle out of the court, Judge Gallon looked at the clock and said, “It's now 12:10. It was a long morning. Let's take a little extra time for lunch. Members of the jury, please return at 1:30 and we will continue with testimony. Thank you.”

  The jury filed out. A few looked at the picture still on the easel. None of them looked at me or Hank. Jeff kept his head down, straightening papers that had no need of straightening, careful to keep his face neutral as the jury filed past.

  Lindsey leaned in so that her mouth was right next to my ear. “If there’s still a deal out there, we need to take it.

  I looked at her. Her eyes were cold steel as she mouthed, “We’re fucked.”

  28

  We were all huddled tightly in the hallway—me, Lindsey, Cyn, and Hank. “Did you bite his nose off?” I said. I kept my face neutral for any passers-by but my teeth were clenched.

  Hank shrugged. “I couldn't say.”

  “What?”

  “I was pissed.”

  “You mean that could happen?”

  “It's a fight, Counselor. Anything can happen.” He tapped his ear, then pointed at me. “You know that.”

  Hank's ice-blue eyes were open and without guile and he seemed utterly unaware of the disaster that had just happened. Cyn touch my arm. “Why don't I take Hank to get some lunch?”

  I nodded and the two of them went to get a sandwich from the deli stand.

  “I'm sorry, Nate,” said Lindsey. “I totally missed the nose.”

  “Not your fault, Lindsey. I've looked at that picture dozens of times and I was so caught up in the overall damage that I missed the implication.”

  “But I was in charge of figuring out what they would do with the autopsy.”

  “And I'm in charge of the case. My fault.” Lindsey looked unconvinced but it didn't matter, we had to get ready for the next witness. “Jeff’s calling Purcell next.”

  “Did you get anything on him?”

  “Nothing solid. But it doesn't matter. We have to go with it.”

  Lindsey looked over my shoulder at the courtroom doors. “Is it too late to take the deal?”

  “It’s not on the table anymore. And Hank wouldn’t take it if it was.”

  She ground her teeth. “We’re not letting him get executed.”

  “No, we’re not. Go get something to eat.”

  She nodded. “Want anything?”

  I raised my paper bag and bottle of water. “Got a movable feast right here.”

  She touched my shoulder and then went to join Cyn and Hank. I went to the other end of the hall to where Cade Brickson sat, unobtrusively keeping an eye on his two million dollar investment in Hank’s continued presence. He wore a suit that didn’t fit right since the only way to make a suit fit over those massive shoulders was to pay a tailor ten thousand dollars but he still looked impressive.

  “Was it as bad as it looked?” I said.

  “Every bit.”

  I nodded. “Have you seen a blonde reporter in the gallery?”

  “Investigations are my sister’s thing.”

  “Let me know if you see her questioning any of our folk, will you?”

  “You want me to let you know if she’s nosing around?”

  “If you could.”

  “Make sure she’s keeping her nose clean?”

  “Just keep your eyes open is all.”

  “Then follow my nose if I see something?” Cade’s face was expressionless.

  I sighed. “Will you?”

  He nodded in a way that made no promise.

  “Thanks.”

  I took my sandwich and my water and my trial notebook and found a corner on the third floor to eat and review my cross-examination of Blake Purcell.

  “Could you state your name for the record please?” said Jeff.

  “Blake Purcell.” He was wearing a fine blue suit with an open collar shirt and seemed as at home as if he were sitting at home in front of the TV or, more likely, at a bar filled with coeds. His hair had an extra layer of product and the suit looked a little nicer than an out-of-work former college student would wear.

  “And what do you do, Blake?”

  “I'm a student at the University.”

  “Were you at the Lizzy Saint concert the night Dillon Chase was killed?”

  “I was.”

  “Were you a friend of Dillon Chase?”

  “I met Dillon that night, at the concert. Aaron knew a girl who knew him and he promised to get us backstage passes.”

  “That’s Aaron Whitsel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would Dillon get you backstage passes?”

  Blake shrugged. “I'm not sure,” he said. “I think he liked Aaron's friend.”

  “And he just invited you to go backstage with him?”

  Blake smiled. “A concert’s a concert, sir. Things happen.”

  “Did you watch the concert?”

  Blake smiled again. “You don't watch a Lizzy Saint concert. You experience it.”

  It was Jeff's turn to smile now. “You'll have to forgive an old, fat lawyer. Did you experience the Lizzy Saint concert that night?”

  “Sure did. And you’re never too old to ‘Rip It.’”

  “I don’t think my daughter would agree with you.”

  Blake smiled and the jury chuckled.

  Shit.

  “So after you experienced the Lizzy Saint concert, what happened next?”

  “Me and Aaron, we found Dillon and he gave us a couple of passes to get us back.”

  “What about the woman?”

  “It's a concert. People…drift.”

  “So what did you do then?”

  “We hung out and we drank some beer and we talked. It seemed like a lot of the people in the room were VIPs or people who had bought the special experience or crew members. It was a good crowd. Fun.”

  “And then?”

  “And then after a little bit, we noticed that people were funneling off one or two at a time through a doorway in the back. So Dillon just tells us to wait for a little bit and disappears, and sure enough, about half an hour later, he comes back and leads us right through.”

  “Right through to where?”

  “To the next level of the party. Now we see people that look like management and other artists and the opening act and the quality of booze—” Blake put his hand over his head and made a quick “pffft” noise, “Next level. So we hang out there for, I don't know, two or three beers worth and then Dillon says, ‘Time to pass the next gate, boys.’”

  “What did he mean?”

  “Hell if I knew—”

  “Mr. Purcell,” said Judge Gallon

  “I'm sorry, Judge.” He didn’t look sorry at all. “I didn't know what he meant at the time but he said just to stay close to him and we’d get to the real party.”

  “Was Aaron with you still?”

  “He was. He was real nervous. Felt like we were crashing even though Dillon had IDs for all three of us because we didn’t really know anybody but Dillon said he had it handled so not to worry about it.”

  “And did he? Have it handled?”

  Blake shrugged. “They passed us through sure as sh—shooting, we were through to the next level.”

  “Which was what?”

  “The main party. We were back there with Lizzy Saint and Jared Smoke and David Bender and the whole damn band. It was amazing.”

  Judge Gallon started speaking and Jeff raised his hand. “Blake. This is court. We need to be careful with our language.”

  “Right, right. Sorry.”

  “Thank you. Now Blake what was Aaron doing during this time?”

  “When we actually saw Lizzy, he was kind of freaking out. Dillon pulled him aside and told him not to worry, that we were allowed to be there, and we were allowed to have a great time. That calmed him down and once he started talking to David Bender about the baselines he used in Ripper, well, that was pretty much it. We couldn't believe our luck and we couldn't
believe how much fun we were having.”

  “And were you there for a while?”

  “We were.”

  “Do you know how long?”

  “Not really. Four or five beers maybe?”

  “Now Blake, I have to ask you, were you drinking that night?”

  “Sure.”

  “A lot?”

  He shrugged. “It was a Lizzy Saint concert.”

  “So that's a ‘yes?’”

  He smiled. “It’s an ‘of course.’”

  “Did you use anything else?”

  For the first time, Blake shifted in his seat and looked around. “Uhm, can't I say the Fifth Amendment or something?”

  “You could. To the extent it matters though, recreational use of marijuana became legal in this state a year ago.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, I did smoke little.”

  “So you smoked and you drank, yes?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you lose any memories from that night?”

  “No. The opposite.”

  “By the opposite, what do you mean?”

  “Well, it was the scariest night of my life so I remember it pretty clearly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean, what do I mean? That lunatic killed Dillon and almost killed Aaron.”

  “Objection, Your Honor.” I stood and said it and immediately realized I shouldn’t have.

  “Basis?”

  “Characterization and speculation.”

  Jeff smiled. “I'll withdraw and rephrase, Your Honor. Was it scary because Hank Braggi killed Dillon and almost killed your friend Aaron?”

  “Exactly.”

  Nice going, Shepherd.

  “So what happened next?”

  “So we were having a great time. Aaron was talking to David Bender, Dillon and I were talking to Jared Smoke, and Lizzy was drifting in and out of our conversations.”

  “Was Hank Braggi there?”

  “He was. He mostly was talking to Lizzy but he was also talking to a lot of other people.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “I did not. Seemed like a decent enough guy at the time.”

  “Nothing unusual about his behavior.”

  “Not yet.”

  “So what happened next?”

  “So the party was winding down a little but, you know, after a concert, two in the morning is like two in the afternoon to the band, and Dillon and Aaron and I were so jacked up from being with them that we were wide awake too. So after the suits left and the crew started to scatter, Jared gets riled up and says, ‘We don’t have to travel tomorrow, so there’s no goddam way we’re crashing early.’ Sorry, Your Honor, that’s what he said.”