Without a Hitch

by Andrew Price

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you or did you not state in your official report that Beaumont held the gun in his left hand, behind him?” Beckett asked harshly.

  “I was mistaken.”

  “You were mistaken?!” Beckett mocked him.

  “Yeah, it happens.”

  “A moment ago, you blamed the passage of time for your supposed mistake from when you testified earlier. But now it turns out you made the same mistake on the initial arrest report? When did you write this report?” Beckett held up the report for the jury to see.

  “The day of the arrest.”

  “The same day, yet you completely mis-described how he was standing when you first saw him?!”

  “Like I said, it happens,” Russell said cynically. “I’m not perfect.”

  “Did Officer Webb also sign this report?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In fact, he made his own statement, right?”

  Russell mumbled an agreement.

  “Why don’t you read his statement to the jury? Start with ‘suspect was standing.’”

  Russell scanned the report before reading it aloud. “‘Suspect was standing with a firearm in his left hand, with his hand down behind his rear, with the barrel pointed away from his body behind him.’”

  “Somehow Webb made the same mistake you did, didn’t he?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Neither of you was able to recall accurately what happened when you wrote your separate statements on the same day you arrested him?”

  Russell didn’t answer.

  “Do you know that you and Officer Webb both misspelled the same words in your statements?”

  Russell looked away from the jury and didn’t speak.

  “Did Officer Webb write this report or did you, sir?”

  “He wrote it.”

  “Is Officer Webb going to agree with that?”

  “Objection, he can’t testify to what Officer Webb will say,” Pierce interjected.

  “It’s funny, Your Honor,” Beckett said, turning his back on Pierce and speaking directly to the jury, “I wouldn’t have thought there would be an issue. . . maybe Officer Webb’s testimony will be more revealing than we expected.”

  Several members of the jury smirked at this.

  “Counsel, approach the bench,” ordered a very-annoyed Judge Sutherlin. “I warned both of you that I will not tolerate talking objections. There will be no grandstanding in my courtroom,” he growled.

  Both attorneys acknowledged their reprimands and returned to their places.

  “Sergeant, it seems the gun couldn’t have been in either his left hand or his right hand?”

  Russell remained silent, but the jury took his silence as an admission. Normally, Beckett would have forced answers to preserve the testimony for appeal, but since an appeal was out of the question, he instead went for the dramatic attack which would stick in the jurors’ minds.

  “And you certainly couldn’t have seen it hanging down behind him as you describe in the police report, could you?”

  Russell still didn’t answer.

  “Do you agree with me that you couldn’t have seen the gun, Sergeant?”

  Russell again didn’t answer.

  “I can wait all day, Officer.”

  By this time, several members of the jury were visibly hostile toward Sgt. Russell, frowning at him and shaking their heads. The longer he took to answer the questions, the more their stares became glares and the greater the angry curl in their lips.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Russell finally agreed.

  “So you lied on the report?” Beckett pressed him.

  “Objection,” Pierce barked.

  “I withdraw the question, Your Honor,” Beckett said, cutting off any need for a ruling from Sutherlin on the objection. “Let me rephrase that, Sergeant. Your report is wrong when it says you saw Mr. Beaumont holding a gun, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you were wrong today when you said you saw him hold the gun in his left hand?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you were wrong today when you said you saw him hold the gun in his right hand?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So this statement in the report, ‘forced entry when saw suspect hold firearm’ was incorrect?”

  “Yeah.”

  Beckett didn’t let up. “You actually had no reason to force entry, did you?” This would mean they had no right to search Beaumont’s apartment and the documents would be legally inadmissible.

  Russell didn’t answer.

  “Answer the question, Officer?”

  Russell remained silent.

  “You lied when you said you forced entry because you saw a gun, didn’t you?”

  “It was a mistake, that’s all, no lie.”

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Sergeant. Beaumont never opened the door, did he?!”

  “Yes, he did,” Russell responded immediately.

  “You forced entry on a closed door, didn’t you?” Beckett continued in rapid fire succession.

  “No, sir.”

  “Beaumont never had a gun, did he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  Beckett paused for effect. “One last question, Sergeant: will Officer Webb back up your version, whatever that may be?”

  “Objection,” Pierce yelled.

  “Withdrawn,” Beckett said, turning his back on Russell and returning to his seat.

  Several members of the jury shook their heads. Most glared at either Russell or Pierce. Pierce stormed over to the podium.

  “Sergeant, you saw the gun, correct?”

  “Yes, sir,” Russell said, staring hatefully at Beckett.

  “You removed the gun from Mr. Beaumont personally, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Nothing further,” Pierce growled as he returned to his seat.

  Beckett rose to his feet. “Nothing further.”

  “The witness is excused. Call your next witness, Mr. Pierce,” Judge Sutherlin said.

  When Beckett sat down, Beaumont leaned over to him. “Why did’n chu ask him about beating me?”

  “Because your story is a lie.”

  Chapter 39

  “The people call Maggie Smith,” Eddie Pierce proclaimed.

  “Interesting,” Beckett whispered to Corbin. “I guess they haven’t found Webb yet?”

  Based on the order of their witness list, comments made by Pierce during the pre-trial conference, and simple trial tactics, Corbin and Beckett expected Pierce to call Webb as his second witness, especially after Beckett successfully kept Russell from talking about Webb finding the documents. Putting Webb off would present problems for Pierce, problems an experienced trial attorney like Beckett was ready to exploit.

  “Do you want me to find Webb?” Corbin volunteered.

  “No, I don’t want to trigger any desire on his part to come testify. Let sleeping cops lie.”

  All eyes turned to the rear of the courtroom as a bailiff opened the wooden door. In walked a Rubenesque, middle-aged woman in a slightly-dated, dark-blue, skirt suit. She wore an enormous gold watch on her wrist and smelled strongly of perfume, even from great distances. She made her way to the witness box and was sworn in by the clerk. This was Maggie Smith.

  For the next ten minutes, Pierce struggled to get basic background information out of Smith. It wasn’t that Smith wanted to be difficult, but like many people who never testified before, she felt intimidated by sitting in the witness box with dozens of people staring at her. Like a million witnesses before her, this caused her to confuse simple details, to provide wrong or incomplete answers, and to sound nervous. Pierce, who had seen this hundreds of times before, patiently walked her through those details. As she became more comfortable, he moved on to more important topics.

  “Now, you say you’ve been the branch manager at Penn Bancorp, down on Fulton, for five years, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “In your role as branch m
anager, were you the person responsible for opening new accounts?”

  “Right.”

  “Were you at work on June 14th of last year?”

  “I was,” she said, doing her best to be helpful.

  “Did you see anyone in this courtroom enter the bank on June 14th of last year?”

  Smith looked around briefly before nodding her head.

  “Can you please provide a verbal answer. The court reporter can’t record you nodding your head,” Pierce said, responding to her nod.

  “I’m sorry. Yes, I saw the defendant,” Smith said, pointing at Beaumont.

  Pierce looked at the judge. “Your Honor, may the record reflect that Ms. Smith has identified the defendant, Mr. Beaumont.”

  “It may,” Sutherlin responded.

  “Now, Ms. Smith, what did Mr. Beaumont do, if anything.” By adding the “if anything,” Pierce avoided any possibility Beckett could object to the question as leading. Leading questions are not allowed on direct examination, though they are allowed on cross examination.

  “He asked to open an account.”

  “Did he identify himself as Mr. Beaumont?”

  “No, he did not.”

  “Did he identify himself at all?”

  “Yes, or I couldn’t have opened the account,” she replied politely.

  “How did he identify himself?”

  “He said his name was Scott Stevens and he showed me identification.”

  Pierce walked over to Morales, who handed him some papers. “Ms. Smith, I’m going to show you a set of documents.”

  Beckett immediately objected. “May we approach, Your Honor?”

  “Approach,” Sutherlin ordered, placing his file down and leaning forward so he could speak to the attorneys without the jury overhearing.

  “The prosecution is about to question Ms. Smith about documents allegedly recovered from Mr. Beaumont’s apartment, but they have not yet provided any evidence placing those documents in Mr. Beaumont’s possession,” Beckett said.

  “Officer Webb will testify that he personally removed these documents from Mr. Beaumont’s apartment,” Pierce responded.

  “Why haven’t we heard from Officer Webb yet, Mr. Pierce?” Sutherlin asked. He seemed annoyed by this.

  “He was called away, Your Honor. We expect him to testify tomorrow evening or Wednesday morning.”

  Beckett began to speak, but Sutherlin raised his hand. “Mr. Beckett, I’m going to overrule your objection for the moment. Mr. Pierce, I’m going to allow you to proceed, though I will not let you use this witness to explain where those documents were found. I also caution you. If. . . I say, if Webb does not testify as promised, I’m going to take a long, hard look at dismissing this case. I am already wondering whether or not all the evidence collected by Sgt. Russell and Officer Webb should be suppressed, as they clearly had no probable cause to enter Mr. Beaumont’s apartment and they had no warrant either. At this point, I am only waiting to hear what Officer Webb has to add. Do you understand me, counselor?”

  Pierce was visibly shaken by Sutherlin’s warning. “Yes, Your Honor.” He returned to the podium. “I’m going to show you some documents, Ms. Smith.” Pierce looked to Sutherlin again. “May I approach the witness?”

  “You may.”

  “Take a moment to look at these.” Pierce handed the documents to Smith. He then placed a copy of the first document on the document projector, which displayed it on a large screen directly across from the jury. “Do these look familiar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you identify these documents?”

  “These are the documents he signed.”

  “You mean that Mr. Beaumont signed?”

  “Yes.” Every member of the jury turned to watch Beaumont’s reaction. He had none. He just sat in his chair, leaning back slightly with his arms folded over his stomach and a blank expression on his face.

  “He signed those in your presence on June 14th, correct?”

  “Yes, there’s the date,” she said, pointing at the date on the document on the screen.

  “These are your standard account documents?”

  “Yes. This is the entire packet we keep when we open a new account. The top couple are signed by the account holder and the rest are legalese.” She smiled when she said that, as did most of the jury. They liked her.

  “There are about fifteen pages, aren’t there?”

  Smith counted them and agreed.

  Pierced turned to Judge Sutherlin. “Your Honor, I’d like to mark these as People’s Exhibit 12. Can you read the signature, Ms. Smith?”

  She squinted slightly at the document. “It says, ‘Scott Stevens.’”

  Pierce paused again to let the jury examine the signature, which now appeared on the screen. “What happened next, Ms. Smith?”

  “I opened the account for him.”

  “How did you do that?”

  Smith paused, seemingly confused. “I don’t understand?”

  “Did he give you anything?” Pierce prodded her.

  “Oh yes, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what you meant. Yes, he handed me $100 in cash to place into the account. I put that in my drawer and then gave him the usual paperwork, which includes starter checks. Those are the ones you said they—”

  “Objection,” Beckett said calmly, not bothering to leave his chair.

  “Sustained.”

  Smith looked panicked, but Pierce jumped in to calm her down. “That’s ok, Ms. Smith. You gave him starter checks and he took them from you, is that right?”

  She agreed, though she still appeared shaken by the objection.

  “What did Mr. Beaumont do then?”

  “He left the bank.”

  “He opened an account in a false name and then he left,” Pierce repeated. “Your witness,” he said to Beckett. As he returned to his seat, Pierce was all smiles.

  Beckett leaned against the podium. “Good afternoon, Ms. Smith. My name is Evan Beckett. I represent Mr. Beaumont. I’m going to follow up on some of what you just talked about with Mr. Pierce,” he said kindly.

  “Ok.” Smith smiled, though she was nervous about what Beckett would say or do.

  “You say you were at work on June 14th, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  She looked confused.

  “Let me back up a second. When did you first hear about this case?”

  “When a police officer came to the bank.”

  “When was that?” Beckett asked. His polite manner put Smith at ease.

  “I don’t know, two months ago, maybe?”

  “What did the officer want?”

  “He said they were investigating identity theft and they wanted details on one of our accounts,” Smith said in the same helpful tone she’d used with Pierce.

  “That was the account of Scott Stevens?”

  She nodded.

  “I take it you gave them the information?”

  “Oh yes, after we checked with our attorneys to make sure we could turn that over.”

  “Was there anything prior to the police showing up at the bank which sent up any red flags on that account?”

  “No, nothing,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis.

  “How many accounts do you normally open on any particular day?”

  “Maybe five or six on a busy day.”

  “How many accounts did you open on June 14th?”

  Smith’s face went blank. “I. . . I don’t know.”

  “Was it more than one?”

  “Probably, but I honestly don’t remember. I’m sorry, that was a long time ago.”

  “Do you remember any of the other people who opened an account that day?”

  Smith shook her head.

  “What about people on the 15th of June?” Beckett asked.

  Smith shook her head again.

  “What about the 16th of June?”

  “No sir. . . I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of th
em.”

  “Do you remember anyone who opened an account in June, other than Mr. Beaumont?”

  “No sir, I don’t,” she responded politely.

  “But you do remember Mr. Beaumont?” Beckett asked. The first hint of skepticism crept into his voice.

  Smith blushed. “No, not at the time. . . but I do now.” This comment got the jury’s attention. Several members sat up straighter in their chairs.

  “What do you mean, ‘not at the time’?” Beckett asked.

  “I didn’t remember him the first time the police came to talk to me,” she clarified. “But when they came back, they showed me a picture of Mr. Beaumont.”

  “They showed you Mr. Beaumont’s picture?!” Beckett asked incredulously. “Did they show you anyone else’s picture?”

  “No, I don’t think so. They told me the Stevens account was fake and they knew who did it. Then they showed me Mr. Beaumont’s picture and asked me if I recognized him as the man who pretended to be Scott Stevens.”

  This caused several members of the jury to look at Eddie Pierce. They were frowning. Beckett had scored a hit.

  “So you only remembered Mr. Beaumont only after the police showed you his photo and told you he was Scott Stevens?” Beckett asked, pounding home his discovery.

  “Yes,” Smith replied. No one in the courtroom doubted her honesty.

  “When someone opens an account, you get identification from that person, right?”

  “Oh yes. We need a pho. . .to ID.” As the words left Smith’s mouth, her entire face turned white and her eyes grew. “Oh my,” Smith said to herself, though the microphone carried it throughout the courtroom. “There should have been a photo ID.”

  Pierce momentarily looked nervous, but quickly regained his poker face. He glanced at Morales, who shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

  Beckett picked up the packet of documents. “If you could turn to the packet of documents Mr. Pierce handed you a few minutes ago. I believe he marked it as Exhibit 12?” Smith picked up the packet as Beckett flipped through his own set. “Now, I believe these are out of order, so if you could please look about ten pages in.”

  Smith flipped through the pages until she came upon a photocopy of a drivers licenses. She squinted at it, taking in all of the details. Then she looked at Beaumont, comparing him to the image on the drivers license. She seemed to deflate.