Without a Hitch

by Andrew Price

  The courtroom was empty as the group entered through the judge’s door behind the bench. Corbin, Beckett and Beaumont made their way to the defense table, where one of the three uniformed bailiffs unshackled Beaumont’s ankles and then his wrists. Unlike Beaumont’s purple pimp suit, Corbin wore a conservative dark-olive suit and a red tie over a white shirt. Beckett wore his dated gray suit, with the too-narrow lapels, a blue and silver striped tie, and a white dress shirt. Both his suit and shirt had been cleaned and pressed, but no amount of cleaning could hide their age. Neither Corbin nor Beckett gave any visible signs of being nervous.

  Pierce wasn’t nervous either. Courtrooms were his natural environment and he was all smiles. Morales, however, was nervous, and it showed. She kept tapping her pen furiously against her notepad and looking over her shoulder whenever anyone entered the room. She also kept smoothing out the sleeves and pants of her deep-red suit. Beckett watched her.

  Once Beaumont was seated, the clerk allowed the gathering crowd of about fifty people to enter the back of the courtroom. Many of these were potential jurors. Others were witnesses, reporters, and a few people who came to watch. Whenever a trial gets significant local media coverage, curious members of the public always show up.

  As Judge Sutherlin entered the courtroom, the bailiff ordered everyone to rise. “Be seated,” Sutherlin commanded in his strong, compelling voice. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We are dealing with the People versus Washington Beaumont. Those of you who were summoned as witnesses, I ask you to now follow the bailiff at the back of the room. He will take you across the hall where you can wait until you’re called.”

  Several people left the courtroom.

  “Those of you from the media, I remind you that I do not allow cameras or other recording equipment in my courtroom.” Several audible clicks followed. “If you were called as a potential juror, here’s what’s going to happen. My clerk will start calling names at random. As she calls your name, come sit in the jury box. If you are not called, then you should return downstairs to the court clerk’s office as they may need you for another trial. When the box is full, the attorneys will ask you some questions. If the answer is ‘yes’ to any of their questions, raise your hand and keep your hand up until we get to you. If you are dismissed, then return to the clerk’s office.” Sutherlin motioned to his clerk. “Let’s get started.”

  It took an hour to pick the jury: two women and four men. Each of the potential jurors had heard about the case on the news, but each also claimed not to have made up their mind about Beaumont’s guilt, which was enough to keep them from being struck for cause. The judge did dismiss two potential jurors who had been victims of identity theft and one woman who admitted believing that the police “wouldn’t arrest anyone who wasn’t guilty of something.” He refused to strike a man who said he didn’t trust the police, because the man also said he would listen fairly to individual police officers; Pierce eventually struck him with one of his three peremptory strikes. Pierce also struck a young construction worker and a Catholic priest. Beckett intended to strike the construction worker, but was fortunate Pierce struck him first. That left Beckett free to strike someone else. He eventually struck a librarian, the wife of a retired policeman, and a car salesman who planned to run for the state senate. The remaining six jurors and one alternate seemed rather bland and their backgrounds gave no hint how they might vote.

  With the jury chosen, opening statements began. Eddie Pierce made his way to the podium, keeping his right hand in the pocket of his charcoal-gray pants. His left hand held his notepad. His blue and gold tie contrasted nicely against his starched white shirt and dark suit. A gold ring with a square-cut diamond was visible on his pinky. When he reached the podium, he set down his notes and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. He flipped the page in his notepad before turning his eyes toward the jury. A smile was fixed on his face.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Eddie Pierce. I’m the District Attorney. Sitting behind me is Assistant District Attorney Hillary Morales. On behalf of the people of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I thank you for being here today. Being a juror is a civic duty that goes back all the way to ancient Rome, if not further. Today, you become part of that history. There is nothing more important to our way of life than the service you are about to give. You are the eyes and ears of the people. You watch over the system to make sure the guilty are punished, that victims receive justice, and that our society remains free and safe. You are the guardians for us all.”

  Pierce exhaled melodramatically.

  “We’re here today because a horrible crime has been committed, a crime you will hear about over the next couple days. This crime involves an invasion of privacy. This crime disrupted numerous lives and will continue to disrupt lives for years to come. This crime hurt us all. Even those of us who were not victimized directly still pay in insecurity and in the extra costs charged to make up for what crimes like this steal from hard-working people. The crime we are talking about is identity theft and fraud.” Pierce pointed at Beaumont. “Sitting to my right is Mr. Washington Davis Beaumont. Mr. Beaumont committed the crime you are here to judge.”

  Each member of the jury looked at Beaumont. They showed no emotion.

  “Mr. Beaumont stole the identities of fifty-three people. Using those identities, he stole $2.2 million, and he left those fifty-three people. . . and the rest of us, to pick up the tab.”

  Pierce shuffled his notes.

  “So how do we know Mr. Beaumont is guilty? That’s always the question for the state. How do you show a man is guilty of a crime of which he stands accused? In this case, Mr. Beaumont made it easy. Mr. Beaumont laid it all out for us to follow. You will hear about his arrest from Sgt. Warner Russell, a fifteen year veteran of the department, and his partner, rookie Officer Paul Webb. You’ll hear Officer Webb describe how he searched the nightstand next to Mr. Beaumont after the arrest. You’ll hear how Officer Webb found stacks of documents, documents you will see. These documents belong to the credit card accounts and bank accounts Mr. Beaumont stole. That’s been stipulated to; the defense isn’t even trying to deny that evidence!”

  Pierce let his words sink in before continuing.

  “You’ll hear from Maggie Smith, a bank manager, who unknowingly helped Mr. Beaumont set up a fake bank account at Penn Bancorp. You’ll hear from Natasha Freet, a teller, who can place Beaumont at First Regional Bank, where he opened another fake account. And you’ll hear from Dr. Ben Trainder, a handwriting expert, who will tell you that Mr. Beaumont’s signature appears all over the documents used to open these accounts.”

  Pierce folded his arms and stepped back from the podium. The jury remained motionless, but were attentive. Some looked down, but most followed Pierce with their eyes. The young woman on the end kept sneaking peeks at Beaumont.

  “The defense will tell you, ‘this is a victimless crime, nobody got hurt’. . . garbage! Sgt. Russell will sit in that very chair,” Pierce pointed to the empty witness box, “and tell you how he disarmed Mr. Beaumont when he arrested him. Mr. Beaumont had a gun, ladies and gentlemen, a gun! Why did he have a gun? We don’t know. We don’t know what he planned to do if he hadn’t been stopped. But it doesn’t matter, because you don’t need to decide that. Possession of a firearm is a serious crime in this city, no matter what he planned to do with it. . . but it makes you wonder.”

  Pierce returned to the podium and jammed his right hand back into his pocket. He tapped the index finger of his left hand against his lips.

  “There’s more to cover, but I think we’ve said enough for now. The facts of this case are straight forward, no matter what the defense may tell you.” He paused. “And if it sounds like I’m blaming them, I’m not. It’s their job to create as much confusion as possible, to try to create doubt where none exists. But it’s your duty to focus on the facts, just the cold hard facts. When you do, you will understand why Mr. Beaumont sits before you today. Thank you for your time.” Pier
ce grabbed his notes and returned to his seat.

  Sutherlin looked at Beckett. “You’re up, Counselor.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Beckett walked to the podium. Unlike Pierce, Beckett appeared rather disheveled, with his old suit, his unkempt hair, and his notepad from which dozens of colored stickies stuck out on either side. Interestingly however, all of this, combined with the more sincere-sounding emotion in Beckett’s voice, gave the impression of earnestness, rather than disarray, though it was a fine line.

  “‘Focus on the facts, the cold hard facts.’ That’s exactly right. And what will you see if you focus on those facts? You’ll see a house of cards, ladies and gentlemen. You’ll see a prosecution case built on innuendo and suggestion rather than fact.”

  Beckett paused.

  “The prosecutors want you to believe Beaumont stole $2.2 million. Yet they can’t show any evidence that Beaumont, a man living in a run down tenement on the Southside, ever had that kind of money. Indeed, there’s no evidence he ever had any money.” Beckett called him “Beaumont” without the “Mr.” honorific to humanize him. He normally would have called him by his first name, but Beaumont objected to being called “Washington.”

  “They’re going to tell you he’s a horrible man, but we don’t convict people of crimes they didn’t commit just because we don’t like them. And the fact the prosecution is asking you to do exactly that tells you everything you need to know about their cold hard facts.”

  Beckett flipped the page of his notepad.

  “The prosecution needs to show you that Beaumont opened checking accounts and credit cards in the names of fifty-three real people, but they’re only going to talk about two people, two accounts. Why? As you hear the testimony, ask yourself: why doesn’t the prosecution bring any witnesses to link Beaumont to any of these other mystery accounts? Why are there no videos showing him opening these accounts? Where are the witnesses?”

  Beckett paused to let the jury consider his point.

  “And what about these two accounts? The prosecution wants you to believe Beaumont opened a fake account at Penn Bancorp, that’s the first account. To prove this, they’ll rely on a witness named Maggie Smith. She’s a manager at Penn Bancorp. But ask yourself, does she actually identify Beaumont? Does anyone from Penn Bancorp? The prosecution also wants you to believe Beaumont opened a second account, this time at First Regional. To prove that, they’ll rely on Natasha Freet. She’s a teller. But can she identify Beaumont like they claim? Do they offer any evidence that he ever opened any account? Those are the cold hard facts you need to watch.”

  Beckett closed his notebook.

  “Focus on the facts, not the innuendo, not the suggestions, just the facts. As you do, keep three things in mind. The prosecution has the burden of proof. That means they need to prove every element of their case or you need to acquit Beaumont. You can’t guess, you can’t suppose, you can’t assume, and you can’t fill in the gaps. If something is missing, it’s not your fault; it’s the prosecution’s fault for bringing a case they never should have brought and for asking you to convict a man without showing you evidence of his guilt. Secondly, you’ve all heard the phrase ‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’ That means exactly what it says. You need to be sure, beyond any reasonable doubt, that the prosecution has proven every single element of every single crime they allege. They can’t just offer you a suspicion and they can’t suggest something probably happened, they need to convince you beyond any reasonable doubt. Finally, in our system of justice, a person is innocent until proven guilty. To assume that Beaumont is guilty or that any fact is true is morally, ethically, and legally wrong. If you do that, you deny Beaumont his most fundamental right as an American, the same right afforded to you, to me and to the prosecution. As Mr. Pierce said, you are the guardians.”

  With the opening statements finished, Judge Sutherlin excused the jury for lunch, but not before instructing them not to speak to anyone about the case. “When you are downstairs in the cafeteria, do not speak to anyone about this case. You may not speak to anyone from the media or anyone from the defense or the prosecution. You may not talk about this case amongst yourselves. You are not to read anything about this case or watch any coverage that may happen to be on television. If someone nearby starts talking about this case, walk away. If anyone tries to speak to you about the case, let the bailiff know immediately, and we’ll take care of the rest. The jury is dismissed until 1:30.” With that, the clerk ordered everyone to rise until the jury, and then the judge, left the courtroom.

  “Morales is nervous about something,” Beckett whispered to Corbin. “Follow her and see what happens. I’m going to prepare for Russell.” Beckett looked at his watch. “We have about an hour and a half. Let’s meet downstairs in twenty minutes.” As Beckett spoke, the bailiff discreetly shackled Beaumont’s wrists and then his ankles. “I’ll see you after lunch, Beaumont. Hang tight.”

  “Shit, I ain’t got nothing to do but hang,” Beaumont replied, before being led back to the holding cell.

  Twenty minutes later, Corbin found Beckett sitting in the cafeteria writing notes. He looked around to make sure no one could hear them. “Get this. Webb was standing by himself, down the hall from Russell. Morales made a beeline for Webb. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was nasty. When it was done, Webb tossed his hands in the air and stormed off down the hall toward the staircase.”

  “Did he leave the building?” Beckett asked.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t follow him without being obvious. He was pissed though, and she looked worried. After he disappeared, she went over to Russell and argued with him. It looked like she told him to follow Webb, but after he looked at his watch, they seemed to change their minds.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I suspect Webb’s gone AWOL,” Corbin said.

  “This could be our lucky break. Let’s get back to the courtroom.”

  Chapter 38

  Eddie Pierce leaned against the podium. Sgt. Warner Russell sat in the witness box. He wore an ornate dark-blue dress uniform with the standard piping, ribbons and decorative buttons, as well as each of the medals he’d earned over the course of his career. The uniform was freshly laundered and its seams were crisp. Russell had already introduced himself and explained his background with the department. He came across as professional, knowledgeable and reliable, which was to be expected. An experienced officer knows exactly what to say on the stand and how to say it. They know what they can get away with and they know how to work with a prosecutor to make the story sound convincing. A talented officer can make a case, even where the prosecutor isn’t very good. Russell was a talented officer.

  “Tell me about November 21st of last year,” Pierce asked, waving his left hand theatrically. His right hand remained jammed in his pocket.

  “We was observing a lot of identity theft during the prior few months, and we was doing an investigation.” Russell spoke more to the jury than to Pierce. “Somebody was opening lots of fake bank accounts all over the city, takin’ out credit cards in people’s names, that sorta thing. On November 20th, we got an anonymous tip that the defendant, Mr. Beaumont, was involved. So the next day, me and my partner went to see him to find out what he knew.”

  “Were you planning to arrest Mr. Beaumont?” Pierce asked.

  “No, we just wanted to talk to him.”

  “Did you find Mr. Beaumont?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “What happened when you found him?”

  “We drew our sidearms and—”

  “Wait a minute!” Pierce interrupted, in a deeply-concerned voice. “I thought you just wanted to talk to him?”

  “We did,” Russell responded, “but this guy has a history—”

  “Objection,” Beckett said, rising from his chair, as is customary when making an objection.

  “Approach,” Judge Sutherlin ordered authoritatively, but without emotion and without looking up from the file he was ma
rking up. Beckett and Corbin approached the bench, as did Pierce and Morales.

  “Your Honor, he’s about to go into the criminal history. We discussed this,” Beckett said.

  “Your Honor,” Pierce responded, “we’re not introducing this to show any criminal history. We’re introducing this merely to explain why Sgt. Russell pulled his gun before entering the apartment.”

  “Overruled, Mr. Beckett, but I will instruct the jury accordingly,” Sutherlin advised.

  The attorneys returned to their respective sides.

  Sutherlin looked at the jury over the top of his glasses. “Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to hear testimony that concerns actions Mr. Beaumont may or may not have taken in the past. This testimony is being introduced for the sole purpose of explaining why Sgt. Russell and the other officers took the actions they did. That is the only purpose for which you may consider it. You may not consider his prior actions, if any, toward his guilt in this matter.”

  Pierce jammed his right hand back into his pants pocket and checked off an item on his notepad. He looked smug. “Sergeant, could you tell the jury why you drew your gun.”

  “Yeah, we was aware Mr. Beaumont was arrested many times in the past for various—”

  “Objection,” Beckett barked.

  “Sustained,” Judge Sutherlin replied, without waiting for Pierce to respond. “There’s no need to go into the reasons for any of the arrests, Mr. Pierce.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Pierce replied. He looked at Russell again. “You were aware of prior arrests?”

  “Yeah, we knew about several prior arrests, and we understood he had a gun each time. So we weren’t gonna take no chances with officer safety.”