Until the Final Verdict

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Until the Final Verdict Page 14

by Christine McGuire


  “One of the clinic doctors raped several of his teenage female patients, and then, when he learned one of them was pregnant with his child, he aborted the fetus, but she died.”

  “You said ‘patients.’ How many teenage girls did this doctor rape?”

  “Five or six. I don’t recall the exact number today.”

  “Doctor Robert Simmons committed these rapes and killed that girl?”

  “No, it was one of his staff physicians, Doctor Eduardo Berroa.”

  “Was Doctor Simmons implicated in the crimes?”

  “That was never determined for certain, to my knowledge. District Attorney Benton’s confidential investigation file—he called them ‘R-files’—indicated that Doctor Simmons offered to assist in the investigation.”

  “Did he?”

  “District Attorney Benton was murdered before he could.”

  “According to the defendant, by Doctor Simmons, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the defendant allege that Doctor Simmons committed any other crimes?”

  “She accused him of intentionally overdosing her on digitalis, as well.”

  McCaskill looked around the courtroom and scratched his head. “I see the defendant sitting there, and she doesn’t look dead to me. Can you explain that?”

  “She was hospitalized and treated.”

  “So, the dosage of digitalis Doctor Simmons allegedly administered to District Attorney Benton was fatal, but the dosage the defendant contends he administered to her wasn’t, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the treating physician at the hospital determine, to your knowledge, that Doctor Simmons administered digitalis to the defendant?”

  “No, she was treated by her friend, Doctor Nelson.”

  “I see. Given your knowledge of the defendant, would you agree with me that she might have overdosed herself, to make it look like Doctor Simmons tried to murder her?”

  Griffith rose. “I object again to this line of questioning, which calls for the witness to speculate on matters about which she has no personal knowledge.”

  “Overruled, Mr. Griffith. I’m going to allow it.” Keefe turned to the witness stand. “Answer the question, Ms. Skinner.”

  “I suppose it’s possible, yes.”

  “All right, let’s go back. How did the defendant discover the crimes Doctor Berroa committed?”

  “She found the R-file.”

  “Ah yes, the R-file. Was Doctor Berroa sentenced to prison for the murder and rapes?”

  Skinner shook her head. “He was charged and convicted of involuntary manslaughter.”

  McCaskill cupped his hand over his ear. “Excuse me, I thought you said that after Doctor Berroa raped half a dozen teenage girls, even killed one of them, he got off with a slap on the wrist—involuntary manslaughter. Did I hear you right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How could something like that happen?”

  “The defendant made a deal with Doctor Berroa. He would testify that Doctor Simmons admitted to him that he murdered District Attorney Benton. In exchange, Kathryn didn’t charge him with the rapes.”

  McCaskill turned toward the jury. “But, surely thedefendant charged Doctor Berroa for the murder of the young woman who died from the botched abortion!”

  “The defendant charged him with involuntary manslaughter.”

  “You were Chief Deputy DA when the defendant charged Doctor Berroa?”

  “I was.”

  “Did you express concern to the defendant about the deal she cut and the charges she filed?”

  “I discussed with her the fact that involuntary manslaughter carries only a two- to four-year sentence.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said, ‘It’s not a perfect world.’ ”

  McCaskill stared at Skinner and shook his head slowly, turned and stared at Kathryn, then finally stared at the jury and shook his head again. Then he walked back to the prosecution table, thumbed through a stack of papers, and returned to the podium.

  “Well, at least Doctor Berroa’s testimony led to the arrest of Doctor Simmons for murdering District Attorney Benton, right?”

  “It led to a Grand Jury indictment, but Doctor Simmons had fled the country before the deal was cut,” Skinner said.

  “Did the defendant know to where Doctor Simmons had fled?”

  “No.”

  “Doctor Berroa is in prison for involuntary manslaughter, though, is that correct?”

  “No, Doctor Berroa escaped from Soledad State Prison about three months ago.”

  “Has he been captured?”

  “No.”

  “So the defendant cut a deal with a killer and rapist of teenage girls, sent him to prison for a couple of years, he escaped and is now prowling our streets. All so she could indict a man she alleged but couldn’t prove murdered District Attorney Benton, and alleged but couldn’t prove, tried unsuccessfully to kill her, even though she had no idea where that man was, or whether he would ever be captured, is that correct?”

  Skinner shifted in her chair, crossed her left leg over her right, then uncrossed them and leaned forward. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

  McCaskill glared at her. “Would you prefer to put it some other way, Ms. Skinner?”

  She looked at her lap. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. I only have a few more questions, so let’s move on. Was Doctor Simmons’ whereabouts ever determined before he was arrested in Spain?”

  “Yes. About a year and a half ago, Kathryn received information that he was in Costa Rica. She flew there and had him arrested.”

  “She flew there personally, rather than requesting that Costa Rican police take him into custody, or sending one of her inspectors. As Chief Deputy, did you consider that a wise decision at the time?”

  “No. We were investigating a series of infant kidnappings at the time, and it wasn’t her job.”

  “Did you advise her of that?”

  “Of what?”

  “That you thought her decision unwise, Ms. Skinner!”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Skinner pleaded with McCaskill with her eyes and didn’t answer, but he continued to stare at her.

  “Ms. Skinner, tell the jury why you did not advise the defendant that it was unwise to trot off to Costa Rica.”

  “I didn’t think she would listen.”

  “Why not?”

  “I . . .”

  “Didn’t you tell me it was because you thought the defendant had become so obsessed with Doctor Simmons that her judgment was seriously impaired?”

  “Yes,” Skinner whispered.

  “Speak up so the jury and court reporter can hear your answer.”

  Skinner looked at McCaskill. Her eyes had begun to fill with tears. “Yes.”

  “All right. If the defendant arrested Doctor Simmons in Costa Rica a year and a half or so ago, why did she go to Spain and arrest him again?”

  “He escaped.”

  “From whose custody?”

  “Costa Rican prison authorities.”

  “Did the defendant tell you how he escaped?”

  “In her extradition request, Kathryn wouldn’t waive the death penalty, and Costa Rica is a non-capital-punishmentcountry. She said Costa Rican politicians arranged his escape in order to prevent a diplomatic incident.”

  “She must have wanted him dead pretty bad, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Your Honor!”

  “Sit down, Mr. Griffith, your objection is sustained.”

  “Withdrawn,” McCaskill conceded. “Ms. Skinner, Spain is also a non-capital-punishment country, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you suppose Doctor Simmons didn’t ‘escape’ from Spain’s custody as well?”

  Griffith stood. “Objection!”

  “I’ll allow it,” Keefe ruled. “You may answer the question, Ms. Skinner.”

  “Kathryn waived
the death penalty before Doctor Simmons was extradited from Spain.”

  “She did? That means when she left Spain with Doctor Simmons in her custody, she knew he would never die by lethal injection for allegedly murdering District Attorney Benton, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that if he was ever to die, she would have to take matters into her own hands, execute him herself, before that airplane landed in San Francisco?”

  Griffith jumped up.

  Before he could voice his objection, McCaskill said, “Withdrawn. No further questions.”

  Keefe checked the clock, then looked at the defense table. “Mr. Griffith, it’s approaching time toadjourn for the day. I assume you’d prefer to start your cross-examination tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  After the jury was escorted from the room, and Keefe left the bench, Griffith asked the bailiff to allow him a few minutes with his client.

  “We need to talk, Kathryn.”

  “What’s there to talk about? Skinner buried me alive. With friends like her, I don’t need any more enemies.”

  “It wasn’t good,” Griffith conceded. “We need Emma here tomorrow.”

  Kathryn shook her head. “I won’t take her out of school, she needs normalcy in her life. And the last thing she needs to hear is McCaskill making me sound like Jack the Ripper.”

  “I understand, but if I don’t create some sympathy on that jury, that’s how they’ll see you. I need Emma sitting behind you while I cross-examine Skinner.”

  “No.”

  “Saying ‘no’ might be a fatal mistake.” Griffith grabbed his papers, stuffed them into his briefcase, slammed it shut, and motioned for the bailiff. “I’ll come by the jail after dinner.”

  “Not tonight. Dave arranged for Emma to visit me in his lieutenant’s office in the jail.”

  Griffith set his briefcase on the table. “Kathryn, if the guilt phase of this trial ended today, I couldn’t save you from a death sentence.”

  “I have to see Emma.” Kathryn stood and extended her wrists to the bailiff, who handcuffed her, then grasped her elbow.

  She turned back to her lawyer. “Roger, do you do adoptions?”

  He shook his head. “It’s highly specialized.”

  “Do you know an attorney who does?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  44

  “PUT THESE ON. ” Dave Granz pulled the door closed and handed Kathryn a Safeway bag.

  She glanced inside. “Street clothes. Thanks.”

  “Figured some normal time might be good for you and Emma.”

  “As normal as possible, anyway.” She glanced around his lieutenant’s office, whose windows were crisscrossed by metal bars. “Where is she?”

  “Talking to Deputy Martinez at the booking desk. Her homework assignment is to interview someone in Spanish. She’s asking Martinez about her hobby.”

  “Which is?”

  “Hang gliding. Believe me, when Martinez starts on that subject, she’ll talk your ear off. I told her I’d come get Emma when we’re ready.”

  Kathryn pulled a pair of J.Crew jeans and a dark blue T-shirt from the bag, spread the shirt on the desk, and started smoothing the wrinkles with her hand.

  “What’s new on the Tucker murder investigation?” she asked.

  “Nada. I’m at a dead end now that Keefe and Sanchez have been cleared.”

  “Has CSI determined how the killer got into the building?”

  “No, it’s like he materialized out of thin air, murdered her, then vaporized without a trace. I’m gonna have to put it on the back burner unless something turns up soon.”

  He pointed at the bag. “There’s more in there.”

  She pulled out a red bra and bikini panties.

  “Better change,” he told her. “I’ll close my eyes.”

  “Keep them open. You haven’t looked at me in a long time.” She unzipped the jumpsuit and slid it off, then unfastened her bra, dropped it to the floor, and stepped out of her panties.

  “Don’t tease,” he told her.

  “I’m not teasing.”

  “We don’t have much time.”

  “We don’t need much time.”

  She unzipped his Levi’s and pulled them down, pushed him into the chair, and slid her mouth over him. After a moment, she straddled him and slowly lowered herself until she consumed him.

  Dave kissed each breast. “I was hungry for you.”

  “I was starving.” She raised and lowered her body slowly, and he arched his back to meet her.

  When they were finished, Kathryn whispered, “I wish we could stay like this forever, but . . .” She freed herself from his arms, slipped on the red underwear, then her jeans and T-shirt, while he watched.

  Dave stood up and dressed. “I’ll get Emma.”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  45

  “HI, MOM. ”

  Kathryn hugged her daughter. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Lupe said she’d take me hang gliding someday.”

  “Lupe?”

  “Deputy Martinez. Her name’s Lupe.”

  Kathryn shook her head. “That sounds pretty dangerous, sweetie.”

  “Oh, Mom, you’re such a sissy! We women can do dangerous things nowadays.”

  “Let’s talk about it later. How’s school going?”

  “Fine, ’cept in math we’re doing polynomial equations. They’re hard, and we have a test tomorrow. Dave’s gonna help me when we get home.”

  “Glad to hear it, I’m not very good at math.”

  “I need help with English, too, Mom. I brought my book. Will you?”

  Kathryn faked a sneeze so she could turn her head and wipe the tears from her eyes. “Of course, honey. Let’s spread your homework out on Lieutenant Aldridge’s desk.” She glanced at Dave for approval.

  He nodded and winked. “I don’t know an adjective from an elbow. You two work on it. I need to go to my office and make some phone calls.”

  He checked to be sure Emma wasn’t watching, then pointed at his watch and silently mouthed, One hour.

  Kathryn blew him a discreet kiss.

  He mouthed, I love you.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  46

  DAVE KNOCKED on Aldridge’s door, waited a moment, then entered. Emma was just tucking her homework into her backpack.

  “How’d the English go?” he asked.

  Emma shrugged. “I think I can conjugate verbs pretty good now.”

  “Well,” Dave corrected.

  “Well what?” Emma asked.

  Dave and Kathryn both laughed. “Forget it. By the way, Em, Lupe says there’s something she forgot to mention. Asked that you stop by before we leave. Why don’t you go see what’s on her mind while I tell your mom good night. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “ ’Kay.” Emma threw her arms around Kathryn’s neck and clung. “Hurry and come home.”

  “I love you so much, honey.” Kathryn didn’t try to hide her anguish. “But remember, Dave loves you, too.”

  “And I love him, but I don’t love anyone as much as you, Mom.”

  Dave placed his hand gently on Emma’s shoulder. She gave Kathryn a last squeeze and stood up. “Bye, Mom.”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  47

  KATHRYN LEANED AGAINST DAVE until her sobs subsided. “If I lose control, I’ll never get it back.”

  “Take your time, Babe.”

  “All the years I’ve been a prosecutor, I’ve been a staunch advocate of capital punishment. I didn’t think it was possible to sentence an innocent person to death. I was wrong. They’re going to execute me.”

  “Griffith hasn’t put on your defense yet.”

  “What defense? Skinner stuck the needle in my arm. McCaskill just needs someone to push in the plunger on the syringe.”

&nbs
p; “Griffith’ll blast holes in her testimony big enough to sail a battleship through. You’re being pessimistic.”

  “I’m being realistic. I’ve got to face it, and—”

  “Babe . . .”

  “Let me finish. And so do you. I need to ask you something, but you must promise to not answer until you think it over.”

  “Kate . . .”

  “Please.”

  “I promise.”

  “Emma loves you, Dave. You’re the only family she knows. When I’m convicted, I want you to adopt her, if you’re willing.”

  “Kate . . .”

  “You promised you wouldn’t say anything until you think it over.”

  “There’s nothing to think over, you know I’m willing. But, you’re not going to be convicted.”

  “Yes I am.”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  48

  “HOW WOULD YOU DEFINE ‘FRIEND, ’ Ms. Skinner?”

  Roger Griffith leaned casually against the podium, left hand in the pants pocket of his dark brown suit, right hand on a stack of dictionaries.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tell the jury how you define the word ‘friend.’ ”

  She contemplated. “I’m not sure.”

  Griffith lifted his hands, palms up. “That’s obvious from your testimony about my client.”

  “Objection!” McCaskill said. “Argumentative.”

  Keefe shot Griffith a dirty look. “Sustained.”

  “Let’s see if I can help.” Griffith flipped the American Heritage Dictionary open to a page marked with a yellow Post-it. “ ‘A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.’ Is that how you’d describe a friend?”

  “I suppose.”

  He opened the Cambridge International. “If you’re not sure, how about this one: ‘Someone who is not an enemy, and whom you can trust’? Or Merriam-Webster’s definition: ‘One that is not hostile’?”

 

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