Without a Hitch

by Andrew Price

  “What did you do?”

  “We made sure everybody wore a vest. We drew our sidearms when we approached the apartment. We cleared the hallway of bystanders before we knocked. When Webb knocked—”

  “Hold on a second. You’re getting ahead of me, Sergeant,” Pierce said, faking a laugh. “Who is Officer Webb?”

  “Webb is my partner this past year. He’s a rookie who joined the department a few months before the arrest. He was assigned to me when my old partner retired for medical reasons.”

  “Officer Webb knocked on Beaumont’s door?”

  “Yes. Webb knocked on the door. He also made the arrest.”

  “Ok, before we get to that, what happened when Officer Webb knocked?”

  “Mr. Beaumont opened the door.”

  “Mr. Beaumont opened the door,” Pierce repeated.

  “He’s lying,” Beaumont whispered loudly to Corbin. Corbin put his finger to his lips to tell Beaumont to remain silent.

  “Yeah, he opened the door, and I could see he was holding a gun,” Russell testified.

  “What did you do then?”

  “We followed our training. Since he was armed and dangerous, we needed to disarm him. So we forced our way into the apartment, forcing Mr. Beaumont to the floor, and disarming him for everyone’s safety.”

  “Did Mr. Beaumont say anything at the time?”

  “He was angry. He kept insulting myself and the other officers. He threatened me with bodily injury and he kept demanding I let him up and give him back his gun.”

  “Why ain’t you objecting? That’s hearsay?” Beaumont demanded of Beckett.

  “It’s a statement against interest; he can repeat whatever you said,” Corbin responded, trying to leave Beckett free to concentrate on the testimony.

  “But I did’n say that. He’s lying,” Beaumont barked.

  “That may be, but we can’t object to that. Now shut up.”

  Pierce picked up a semi-automatic pistol from the prosecution table. The gun had seen better days. It was black, but covered in scratches. The stock was wrapped in duct tape. A small yellow evidence tag hung from the trigger guard.

  “Have you ever seen this weapon before?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “That was the firearm I took from Mr. Beaumont.”

  “You took this gun from Mr. Beaumont on November 21st?” Pierce asked, holding the gun up for the jury to see.

  “Yes sir, I took it from his hand.”

  “What did you do after you took the gun?”

  “I handed the firearm to the control officer, Officer Sanchez, and he placed it into an evidence bag. Then I escorted Mr. Beaumont downstairs.”

  “What was Officer Webb doing, while you escorted Mr. Beaumont downstairs?” Pierce asked.

  “He searched the apartment.”

  “What did he find?”

  Beckett shot out of his chair. “Objection.” Judge Sutherlin looked at Beckett, but didn’t speak, so Beckett continued. “He can only testify to what he personally observed.”

  “Sustained,” Sutherlin said, before returning his attention to the file in his lap.

  Pierce scowled before he could catch himself. “Did you see what Officer Webb pulled from the drawer?”

  “Objection, assumes facts not in evidence,” Beckett said.

  “Sustained,” Sutherlin replied. Until someone testifies that Webb actually pulled something from the drawer, Russell could not describe anything Webb found as coming from the drawer.

  Pierce bit his tongue. “Did you participate in the search with Officer Webb?”

  “No.” This meant Russell could not testify to what Webb may or may not have pulled from the drawer because he didn’t actually see Webb pull anything from the drawer.

  Pierce scratched his head and pursed his lips. He took a deep breath. “Did you see what Webb was holding after the search?” Pierce asked.

  “Objection, relevance,” Beckett said.

  “Sustained.” Without testimony that what Webb was holding came from the drawer or from Beaumont’s person, whatever Webb held was not legally relevant to the question of Beaumont’s guilt or innocence because it could not be linked to Beaumont. In effect, Beckett had kept Pierce from introducing, through Russell’s testimony, any evidence of what Webb found during his search. That meant the account documents and bad checks were not yet in evidence. Webb would now be the critical witness.

  Pierce flipped through his notes. He wasn’t happy.

  Sutherlin became impatient. “Counselor?”

  “Can we have a moment, Your Honor?” Pierce whispered furiously with Morales before returning to the podium. “We have nothing further.”

  Beckett tapped his lips with his forefingers as he gathered his thoughts. The jury watched him tensely. This was the first cross examination of the trial, and they didn’t know what to expect; Hollywood had seen to that.

  “Good morning, Sgt. Russell,” Beckett offered without sincerity.

  “Good morning,” Russell mirrored Beckett’s tone.

  “Sergeant, you’ve seen Beaumont repeatedly over the years, correct?”

  “Yeah, I saw him a lot. . . year after year.”

  “Did he ever have hair?” This caused each of the jurors and even Judge Sutherlin to look at Beaumont.

  “No. Always bald, just like today.”

  “Were any wigs found at his apartment?”

  Russell laughed. “Wigs?! No, Mr. Beckett, nobody found no wigs.”

  “Is Beaumont right handed or left handed?”

  “Objection,” Pierce barked. “Sgt. Russell would have no way to know,” Pierce stated, trying to telegraph the appropriate answer to Russell. This is an old attorney trick.

  “Your Honor, if that’s correct, then Sgt. Russell can tell us,” Beckett responded.

  “Overruled,” Sutherlin ordered.

  “I ain’t got no way to know,” Russell responded condescendingly, after Beckett repeated the question.

  “Did you see him write anything?” Beckett asked.

  “No.”

  “Ok, let me get at this another way. In what hand was he holding his gun?”

  “His left hand, but that don’t make him left handed.”

  “Was he pointing it at you?”

  “No or he probably would’a been shot. He was holding it down behind him, with his arm running down the length of his body.” As he spoke, Russell pushed his left arm down his side to demonstrate.

  “Where was the barrel of the gun pointing?”

  “Down behind him.”

  “Let me see if I’m following you. If he’s holding the gun like this,” Beckett said, stepping to the right of the podium, closer to the jury, and mimicking Russell’s pose, “then he would have shot behind his right leg if he’d pulled the trigger?”

  “Into the floor behind his right ankle, yes sir,” Russell said.

  “Ok, got it. So he was standing like this,” Beckett asked, as he turned to show his back to the jury.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Russell confirmed.

  Beckett stepped back to the podium and picked up the police report. “That’s consistent with what you wrote in your report at the time?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “How did you know Beaumont would be at the apartment?” Beckett asked, changing direction.

  “That’s where he lives.”

  “Does he have another home?”

  “No, this is it.”

  “Can you describe the place?”

  Russell laughed. “Yeah, it’s a hole. I mean, it’s not a nice place. . . just a little apartment on 16th and Franklin, in the projects.”

  “Nicely decorated?”

  “Not by my taste.”

  “Can you describe the decor?” Beckett asked. So far, there had been no intensity to any of the questions.

  Russell made a sour face. “Dingy, brown paint peeling off the walls. Broke, ancient appliances. There’s an
old couch, a mattress on the floor, a nightstand with a light on it.” Russell laid his contempt for Beaumont on thickly.

  “Anything of value in the apartment?”

  “No. Just the television and that looked pretty old.”

  “Did you recover any money from the apartment?”

  “No, just a couple dollars he had on him, that’s about it.”

  Beckett’s tone suddenly sharpened. “So you found no traces of the money he allegedly stole?”

  Russell froze, realizing what he’d admitted. If Beaumont had stolen as much money as they claimed, why hadn’t they found any traces of it and why did he not appear to own anything more than a rundown apartment? Russell took a deep breath and reluctantly answered: “No, Mr. Beckett, we did not.”

  “Is Officer Webb still your partner?” Beckett picked up the pace of his questioning.

  “No, he’s not.” From his scowl, it was obvious Russell didn’t like the question.

  “You remained partners less than a year, correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “It happens.”

  “Did you have a falling out?”

  “No.”

  “Then why aren’t you partners today?”

  Russell’s face turned red and he folded his arms. “You’d have to ask him.”

  “We will. I just wanted to hear your version first,” Beckett said, setting a trap for Russell. If Russell remained silent, then whatever Webb said later would be the only version presented to the jury. But if he responded, he ran the risk of opening a can of worms Webb might never have opened. Still, Beckett’s use of the word “version” left Russell little choice but to respond, as it suggested to the jury that something unusual had happened between the two officers.

  “Sometimes it just happens,” Russell replied, trying to evade the question. “People don’t always get along. There ain’t nothing wrong about that.”

  “Why didn’t you two get along? Is there something the jury should know?” Beckett’s tone suggested there was. This caused the jury to noticeably perk up.

  “Not really, he’s just a rookie.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Russell saw the jury staring at him. “It means he’s a rookie, that’s it. It means he’s got a lot of lessons to learn that come with experience. That’s it, nothing bad or nothing like that.”

  “Lessons to learn,” Beckett repeated. “What was the lesson that caused Officer Webb to take the unusual step of asking for another partner?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “All right, Sergeant, we’ll take this up with Officer Webb.” Beckett let Russell stew for a moment as he pretended to search his notes. Sure enough, Russell began shifting around uncomfortably. “You look uncomfortable, Sergeant. Is there something you want to add?”

  “No.”

  Beckett now had all the preliminary pieces he needed. He’d gotten Russell to admit they found no evidence of Beaumont having any money. He’d gotten a physical description of Beaumont that would come in handy later. He’d also placed a suggestion into minds of the jurors that Russell and Webb had a falling out over something relevant to this case. It was time to destroy Russell. Beckett took a quick sip of water.

  “Describe for me again what happened when Officer Webb knocked on the door. Where were you?”

  “I was standing behind Webb.”

  “Behind him on one side or straight behind him?”

  “Behind him looking over his shoulder. It’s standard procedure for a forced entry. He’s standing next to the door and I’m behind him looking over his left shoulder.”

  “His left shoulder?!” Beckett exclaimed. This meant Webb needed to reach across the door to turn the door knob. Doing so would expose him to danger if Beaumont shot through the door – the most likely area a suspect would target. It also made him vulnerable if Beaumont yanked the door open and attacked.

  Beckett worked through these details with Russell, who explained that because the door was at the end of a hallway and the wall was immediately to the left of the door, they had to take up positions to the right of the door, which meant Webb needed to reach across the door to turn the knob. However, Russell claimed, Webb never reached across the door because Beaumont opened it. When Beaumont then flashed his gun, they made their forced entry.

  “When Beaumont opened the door, did he open it all the way?” Beckett asked.

  “No, he opened it about six inches, just enough to see his face and the gun.”

  “Where was Beaumont’s body when he opened the door?”

  “He was up against the door, blocking it with his shoulder.” Russell moved his left shoulder forward to demonstrate for the jury.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he was leaning against the door when we forced our way in.”

  “You say his left shoulder leaned against the door?”

  “Yeah, his left. He wedged his left shoulder against the door and then hung his face around to look out through the crack.” Russell held his arm up to mimic bracing a door. Then he moved his head slightly to the right without moving his shoulder, as if he was trying to show his face in the crack between the door and the door frame.

  “Which hand did he use to turn the doorknob?”

  “His right.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he couldn’t have turned it with his left and still barred the door,” Russell answered.

  “You’re sure.”

  “Absolutely. When we forced the door a millisecond after we saw the gun, his arm and shoulder were already blocking the door. If he’d been turning the doorknob, we would’a pushed right through the door with no resistance.”

  “And you’ve done a lot of these, so you would know?”

  “Absolutely,” Russell said without hesitation.

  “You’re sure the gun was in his left hand?”

  “Like I said.”

  “In fact, it couldn’t have been in his right hand, correct?” Beckett picked up the gun from the prosecution table. “After all, this is a big gun. It’s kind of cumbersome. He couldn’t have held it with his right hand and turned the doorknob with that hand, could he?”

  “No, not likely.”

  “At least not without difficulty. . . and not without you noticing.”

  “We would’a noticed,” Russell agreed.

  “So we’ve established that he couldn’t have been holding the gun in his right hand because he couldn’t have turned the doorknob, correct?”

  “Right.”

  “We’ve also established he was barring the door with his left shoulder and looking through the crack, correct?”

  “Right.”

  “And that means he couldn’t have worked the doorknob with his left hand, correct?”

  “Right.”

  “Which again means he had to be holding the gun in his left hand?”

  Russell nodded. “Just like it says in my report.”

  “And like you said before when I asked you which hand he used to hold the gun?”

  “Right.”

  “Then I’m confused, Sergeant. You remember explaining to me how you saw him hold the gun behind his back with his arm running the length of his body, correct?”

  “Yeah,” Russell said cautiously.

  “And you said Beaumont was standing behind the door like this, with the crack of the door being here to his front right,” Beckett said, demonstrating how Beaumont supposedly blocked the door while using his right hand to show where the door opening would have been. “Webb would have been standing over here to the left behind the door, and you would have been standing behind Officer Webb,” Beckett continued, pointing to where Webb and Russell would have stood. “Do you see the problem yet?”

  Russell shrugged his shoulders.

  “Look where the gun is, Sergeant. It’s behind Beaumont. . . behind the door, completely hidden from your view and you never could h
ave seen him hold it behind his body. Can you explain that?”

  Russell looked at Beckett and then Pierce.

  “The District Attorney can’t help you, Sergeant,” Beckett said to emphasize Russell’s inability to answer the question. “We’re waiting, Sergeant. How could you see the gun when it was hidden by the door?”

  “I could’a made a mistake. He might’a been holding it in his right hand.” Russell’s eyes darted back and forth between Beckett and Pierce.

  “Sergeant, you and I just established a moment ago that there was no way Beaumont could have held the gun in his right hand and still turned the doorknob, didn’t we?”

  “I could’a been wrong about that.”

  Beckett looked at the jury. “That’s interesting.” He turned back to Russell. “Sergeant, if he was standing with his left shoulder barring the door, where would his right shoulder be?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a simple question. Wouldn’t his right shoulder be back behind the door as well?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “That would have been hidden from your view too, wouldn’t it?”

  Russell’s mouth went dry. “I guess.”

  “So whether he held the gun behind him on his left side or his right side, you couldn’t have seen it either way could you? The door blocked your view.”

  Russell looked at Pierce again, but Pierce was looking at his notes. “I might’a been mistaken. He might’a flashed the gun at us through the door crack. These things are really stressful and it’s been a long time, so I might’a misremembered.”

  “You were very certain a few minutes ago when you said, ‘He was holding it down behind him with his arm running down the length of his body slightly behind him, with the barrel of the firearm pointed down behind him,’” Beckett read from his notes. “I believe you added that the barrel was pointed behind his right leg. You were very sure of that point.”

  “Yeah, but I think I just misremembered that. It’s been a long time and I’ve had a lot of arrests since then.”

  “Then why did you specifically mention on the arrest report that Beaumont held the gun ‘in his left hand, with his arm hanging down his side, slightly behind him’?” This time Beckett read from the police report.

  Russell didn’t answer.

  “Sergeant, I have here the police report. You signed this, correct?” Beckett handed a copy of the report to Russell.