by J J Miller
“His face looked kind of blank.”
“Blank. Did you have a better look at his face than my client’s?”
“Yes, he was standing right behind me. I could see his whole face.”
“What about the other faces you saw?”
“There were a couple of others, I guess but I don’t remember any details about their appearance.”
“So, would you say there were a few people all standing close enough to shoot Mr. Jameson in the chest at point blank range?”
“I guess so. But that’s not the way it looked.”
“But it’s possible that it was not my client who pulled the trigger, isn’t it?”
“I guess so. Yes, it’s possible.”
“Ms. Alvarez. You did not see the gun at all, did you?”
“No I did not.”
“So you cannot be one hundred percent sure that my client was the shooter, can you?”
“No, I guess I can’t.”
“Nothing further, Your Honor.”
I turned back to take my seat at the defense table. I was heartened to see Holly Myers busily taking notes with raised eyebrows. Anyone with a mind to apply their judgment impartially had reason to doubt the veracity of Mandy Alvarez’s testimony against Demarco, as well intentioned as it may be.
I was quite pleased with where things stood. I saw Jessica Pope working hastily through her papers. I expected her to come out guns blazing.
She didn’t disappoint.
19
I’ve seen countless people sworn in. Some are matter of fact, they understand it’s part of the process, like walking through an airport scanner. Most are respectful and earnest. They believe the oath they recite holds profound weight, and they’re willing to be honest to the full. Placing a hand on the Bible is now optional, but if it were still mandatory, you might as well have used a case of beer instead of the Good Book for all some witnesses’ words are worth.
Naturally, Evan Harrington elected to use the Bible for his swearing in, and I have to say I’ve never seen someone put such piety into the act. No one in the court room doubted that he wanted them to know his promise ran soul deep—but his overdone display just got everyone asking the same question from the outset: is this guy for real? I snatched a look at Jessica Pope and could see her wishing he’d tone it down. But I was pleased—he’d unwittingly planted the seed of distrust straight off the bat.
Jessica was not going to let that endure. She would soon make sure that Evan Harrington impressed the jury as being highly relatable and utterly convincing.
Harrington sat looking at Jessica, calmly waiting for her to begin questioning him, priest-like in his gentle, patient smile.
“Mr. Harrington, could you please tell the court, where you were on the day of the shooting?”
“I was attending VidCon.”
“In what capacity?”
“My wife and I have a YouTube channel that is quite successful, and as a convention for YouTube creators, VidCon gives us a chance to connect with our fans in person. There were appearances and a couple of panels we were invited to sit in on.”
“And how did you come to be at the scene of the shooting?”
“Well, I was interested in seeing the Team 5MS show, so I went along. I went inside the theater like everyone else and found a place to stand up near the stage.”
“And did you know you were standing right behind Luke Jameson, the star of the show.”
“I had no idea he was there until the man next to me started trying to get him to turn around.”
“Is that man in the court room today?”
“Yes, he is. He’s sitting right over there. The defendant, Demarco Torrell.”
“You are in no doubt that he was the man you saw?”
“No doubt, whatsoever.”
“Mr. Harrington, can you tell us precisely what you saw unfold inside the theater.”
“Well, like I said, the defendant was trying to get Luke to turn around. Luke was trying to ignore him, hoping he’d stop, I guess.”
“Was the defendant being friendly?”
“No, he was being pushy to the point of aggression. He was persistent. It seemed he wasn’t going to stop until he got a reaction from Luke.”
“And did he get a reaction?”
“Yes. Luke turned around. He seemed very annoyed but was trying to stay cool. I don’t think he wanted his cover blown to spoil his grand entrance.”
“What did the defendant say to Mr. Jameson?”
“He was talking about karma. You know, like what goes around comes around. He said Luke was going to have to pay—for what, I don’t know. And then he said, shouted really, ‘You’ve been served by God!’ Then the gun went off.”
“Would you say the defendant’s tone was threatening?”
“Yes, I would say that.”
“Tell us, please, what happened next.”
“Well, like I said, the gun went off. It was incredibly loud. Then there was another shot.”
“What was your reaction?”
“I didn’t really react. My eyes were just drawn to the light created by the shot.”
“And what did you see?”
“I saw Luke kind of bend forward.”
“And what did you see then?”
“I saw the gun.”
“You saw the gun?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who was holding the gun?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“And who was it?”
“It was that man there—the defendant, Demarco Torrell.”
I felt the jury turned its gaze as one towards Demarco, who sat dead still next to me. I took the opportunity to show solidarity by leaning towards him, saying, “It’s okay. He’s got to answer to me too, Demarco.”
“He’s a liar,” said Demarco through gritted teeth. He was behaving just as I’d told him to—impassive. I doubted the jury even noticed his lips move.
“Are you absolutely sure you saw the defendant Demarco Torrell shoot Luke Jameson?” Jessica said.
“Yes.”
“It was no accident?”
“No way. What I witnessed can only be described as cold-blooded murder.”
“No more questions, Your Honor,” said Jessica. And with that she swaggered back to her table and sat herself down.
I began talking as I rose. “Mr. Harrington, you and the victim Mr. Jameson were very familiar with each other, weren’t you?”
“We knew each other, yes.”
“But you were not friends, were you?”
“No, we were not,” he said.
Harrington looked relaxed. Obviously, Jessica knew she was taking a slight gamble by putting Harrington on the stand. She had a trade-off to consider—on the one hand, she had a witness who was prepared to testify that he’d seen my client pull the trigger. On the other, that witness had a history of violence that could not be entirely whitewashed by his born-again devotion to God.
She would have known about his past assault and the heated relationship between Harrington and Jameson. But I was betting she was unaware of the fact that the television production company Twenty20 had abruptly dropped the Harringtons from contention for their reality show project. Something told me Harrington had not shared that with her. To me, he seemed too eager to incriminate my client. And that told me he was hiding something—that either he knew the real killer or was the killer himself.
“Would it be fitting to describe your relationship with Mr. Jameson as a feud, Mr. Harrington?”
“That’s a bit strong, but we didn’t like each other.”
“That’s one way to put it. Mr. Harrington, you believed Mr. Jameson was out to destroy your career, isn’t that right?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Did he ever speak about you negatively in public?”
“Yes.”
“Did he accuse you of being disingenuous about how you presented yourself to the public and your fans?”<
br />
“Yes, he did. He said my faith was an act to win subscribers.”
“He also said you had cheated on your wife, didn’t he?”
“Yes. But that was public knowledge. I had an affair on Tinder, but I made amends to my wife and to God, and we have worked hard to move on with our lives.”
“The day before Mr. Jameson was shot, you assaulted him, is that true?”
“I confronted him and it got physical.”
“Is it true you confronted him because you thought he had cost you the chance to star in your own reality TV show?”
I heard Jessica move. She didn’t know where I was going, and she didn’t like it.
“Yes, that is true.”
“Up until a few days before the shooting, you and Mr. Jameson were both being considered as subjects for a reality television show, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And then you were told by the production company Twenty20 that you were no longer being considered. Did they tell you why?”
“No, they did not.”
“But you know why they dropped you, don’t you Mr. Harrington?”
He shifted uncomfortably, caught between the compulsion to lie and the commitment to tell the truth.
“Luke Jameson had been telling lies to them—he was slandering me so he would get the show.”
“And that made you feel angry, right?”
“I was very upset.”
“And you so confronted him at VidCon?”
“Yes.”
“You actually tried to attack Mr. Jameson, but you were restrained. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“It was at that point that you verbally threatened Mr. Jameson, right?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
Harrington hesitated. Ashamed. His eyes looked darkly at me. He obviously hadn’t thought I’d find out.
“I have it from various sources what you said, Mr. Harrington.”
“‘You’re dead,’ I said.”
“And the day after making that threat, you just happened to be standing behind him when he was shot dead. And now you swear that the person next to you was the one who pulled the trigger.”
Jessica was on her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The witness is not on trial here, and the police have thoroughly investigated Mr. Harrington’s relationship with the deceased.”
Harrington couldn’t stay quiet.
“I wasn’t the one with gunpowder on my hands, was I?! How do you explain that?!” he yelled, looking at me with fierce defiance.
“Order,” said Judge Garner. “Mr. Harrington, control yourself, please.”
That last outburst cut some shine off my cross-examination but I didn’t believe all my work had been undone. I wanted to prove Harrington had the motive and opportunity to kill Jameson. Doubt. Doubt. Doubt. I needed to plant as much as I possibly could into the jury’s mind. And to that end, I felt it was mission accomplished.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
20
“Your Honor, I’d like to call Detective Michael Harrison Bayer to the stand,” said Jessica Pope from behind the lectern.
She seemed a shade off her game. Maybe because she wasn’t as far ahead of me as she’d hoped. Still, she and I both knew that while I’d chipped some credibility off two of her key witnesses, the ledger still weighed heavily in her favor. Any natural sympathies for the state’s cause would only be aided by the fact that the jury would never hear from Demarco himself.
As in most murder trials, the defendant would not be testifying. The reason is simple—you don’t want him to tarnish your case with a poor showing on the stand. You can’t let the trial be about the defendant; you have to keep it focused on the fallibility of the prosecution’s case. And Judge Garner had played his part in maintaining that aim—he made it clear to the jury that they should not interpret Demarco not testifying as being a sign of guilt. So, if anyone was going to put daylight between my case and Jessica’s, Detective Bayer was it.
A single look at Bayer and you might take him for an accountant, or a back-office public servant. He was slim and dealt with going bald by cropping short whatever hair was left. His face was long and clean shaved. His skin was almost colorless, and his eyes were big and set deep in their sockets. They peered at the world through thick square-framed glasses. But if you’d ever heard the man chide an unthinking officer for accidentally fouling up a crime scene, you’d know that this unassuming package bore the confidence and authority of a standout leader. I knew good detectives twice Bayer’s size who’d come up short if measured against him.
Jessica got Bayer’s details and service record out of him. A police officer for a decade before becoming a distinguished investigator, Bayer had been decorated for bravery and was widely renowned for cracking tough cases. With those five-star credentials served up for starters, Jessica moved onto the main course.
“Detective Bayer, you have led the investigations into these two murders. Are you convinced they are connected?”
“Absolutely.”
“How so?”
“Well, for starters the weapon. Glock 17. Our tests show the same gun was used to kill both Mr. Connors and Mr. Jameson.”
“You can be sure of this?”
“I have utmost faith in our firearms analysis unit. And their testing showed the same gun was used to commit both murders.”
“You mean your ballistics team?”
“Yes. We had all the key pieces of evidence we needed to determine that the same handgun was used in both murders. We retrieved the gun and two shells from the first murder scene—that is, where Mr. Jameson was killed. And we retrieved two bullets from the bodies of each victim. Our ballistics technicians were able to conclusively show that the same weapon was used in both murders. It’s all there in the report.”
“Did you conduct a fingerprint search on the weapon?”
Jessica knew that I was going to bring this up and wanted to steal my thunder. The truth is, prints were hardly ever retrieved from handguns.
“Yes, we did.”
“Did you find any fingerprints on the weapon?”
“No, we did not.”
“No fingerprints on the murder weapon? Isn’t that odd, considering the weapon was dropped by the shooter and recovered by the authorities at the scene.”
“We rarely get latent fingerprints from a handgun. Only in about five percent of cases are we able to do that, and this case wasn’t one of them.”
“Why? Because the shooter was wearing gloves?”
“No, not that at all. It has to do with how handguns are made, the conditions they are used in, and how they are stored on the body.”
“Could you please explain that for the court?”
“The best way to get fingerprints is off a smooth surface, and handguns have very few smooth surfaces. The handle and trigger are textured or marked to enhance grip. On the Glock 17, even where you load the magazine is not smooth, again to aid the user’s grip.”
“So it’s no surprise that no prints were found on the murder weapon?”
“Like I said, if we only relied on that kind of evidence, ninety-five percent of the gun crimes we crack would remain unsolved.”
“Detective Bayer, the murder weapon—this Glock 17—it had its serial number scratched out. Why would that be?”
“To ensure the weapon can’t be traced back to its owner. It’s what most criminals do when they purchase an illegal weapon.”
“Is it easy for someone to get hold of a weapon like this?”
“Depends on the person. Average Joe on the street, not so easy. You need to have a contact in the black market to buy a weapon like this.”
“What about a member of a criminal gang such as the Sintown Crips—of which the defendant was a member—how hard would that be?”
“Trading in illegal firearms is what gangs like the Crips do. They can get a Glock or even an assault rifle as easy as they
can get a pack of smokes.”
“How do you know this?”
“Ma’am, I’ve been working the streets of Los Angeles for about twenty years. I’ve dealt with a lot of gang crime and arrested more gang members than I can remember. I’ve seized too many weapons to count from gang members’ dens, their cars, their person. These guys are swimming in guns.”
“Detective Bayer, in your vast experience, what does this case look like to you?”
“To be frank it looks like a double hit carried out by a member of the Sintown Crips.”
“Why would the defendant do such a thing? He claims to have left that gang.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” I said. “This calls for the witness to speculate on the hypothetical actions of the defendant.”
“Sustained,” said Judge Garner.
“Detective Bayer, from your experience, how hard is it for gang members to leave their criminal organization?”
“I’d say it’s near impossible. A lot of guys make that claim, but very few can actually live up to it. The truth is that most gang members who try to leave their gang—whether it’s the Crips, the Bloods, whatever—end up back in the fold and back on the streets, back to a life of crime.”
“It’s a hard environment to extract yourself from?”
“The only way I’ve ever known a gang member to leave is by getting killed.”
“Detective Bayer, you have interviewed the defendant at length as well as many witnesses. Why do you believe Demarco Torrell set out to kill both Toby Connors and Luke Jameson?”
“In short, our belief is that it was a revenge mission carried out by the defendant on behalf of a prominent gang member.”
“Can you name this prominent gang member?”
“No, I cannot. That remains an active investigation.”
“Okay, without naming names, can you tell us why you believe these two men were murdered?”
“Sure. A few weeks before his death, Mr. Jameson made a video mocking a fellow YouTuber who is, we believe, a current member of the Sintown Crips. Mr. Connors also upset the same gang member by posting a YouTube video of a prank he played on this person.”
“I’d like to play the latter video for the court, Your Honor, exhibit number two-three-seven,” said Jessica before turning to address the jury. “The face of the man Detective Bayer has been referring to has been blurred to hide his identity.”