“Racism?” he said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “You think everything that’s either black or white has to do with racism.” Albert was hysterical and continued laughing. “Michael, you’ve…”
“What? What?”
“You’ve made my day. Racism, that’s a laugh. Black and white are only colors, professor, or lack of color.”
Tears flowed along his cheeks past a huge smile.
“Why were the bars glossy white, you ask? I have no idea, Michael, none! Maybe your dream painted them white so you wouldn’t even think they were bars. Who knows?”
They sat on the edge of Albert’s bunk, laughing in the hellhole of a prison, both free at last.
Chapter 21
November 2 was a cold day. A few snow flurries fell on Michael’s defense team as they made their way through the crowd, led by two police officers who cleared their way. As they approached the Oswego Supreme Court building, there were shouts of good luck and reporters fought to get within earshot of Michael’s lawyers but couldn’t get close. Brenda and Jeff walked up the long row of steps, stone faced, toward the courthouse entrance.
There were other cries from the crowd. “You killed a man, take your punishment,” along with a few skinheads who yelled curse words at Brenda and held signs saying, “Guilty,” but they were soon shouted down.
As Michael awaited trial, he thought about the possible outcomes. All the pre-trial conferences and opportunities to plea out were behind him. The jury would be left with only two choices, guilty or not guilty.
At first, Michael was not concerned about how the case would end. He told Brenda that he could live out his days in jail by reading, listening to music, and maybe even writing a book—an autobiography. That would keep him busy, and besides, he was a people person and he would be surrounded by men who all had a story to tell. But deep down inside, he had a special reason to be free.
He knew now, after talking to Albert, that if he did have to serve time, he wouldn’t allow prison bars to take away his freedom. He would always carry his freedom with him.
***
Court was in session. A corrections officer removed Michael’s handcuffs and led him into the courtroom from a holding cell at 10 a.m. He was well-dressed in a dark suit and sat next to Brenda at the defense table.
“Thanks for the clothes, Brenda.”
“I bought them brand new, wanted you to look good in court. Judge Jordon keeps three suits in his chambers, but they’re not one-size-fits-all, so I had no choice. We don’t want to lose this case because you wore baggy pants.”
Jeff Hartman extended his hand, wished him luck, and said, “Keep the faith.”
“Be optimistic, we have a good case,” Brenda added.
“I thought you said it would be a tough one?”
“It will be, but the reason I have a good feeling about this case is that there is another bit of news.”
“What?” Michael asked.
“Remember the court-appointed psychiatrist who met with you several times?”
“Dr. Fisher? What about him?”
“He died on Friday in an auto accident. Weisman didn’t ask to reschedule the trial for a later date and instead added the name of another psychiatrist to his list of witnesses, Dr. Morgan. The prosecutor could have asked to postpone the trial and have you examined by a new psychiatrist, but he didn’t. We’ll have to see what unfolds and deal with it then.”
“Is that a good thing or bad thing for us?”
“I don’t know anything about Dr. Morgan. I’m not sure if the judge would have allowed for a continuance anyway. Morgan may present a powerful case against you, but we can’t know that yet. Weisman probably feels the prosecution has a solid case as it stands, and he wants to put this trial behind him. It’s in all the newspapers, too high profile and stressful for the lawyers. Besides, Weisman is getting ready to retire. Let’s see how things go. If I feel the judge is strongly on our side and the jury might not be, I may make a motion for a directed verdict.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that the judge decides to take the jury out of the picture and make the decision himself.”
“Would he want to do that?”
“He probably won’t, but you never know. It may not look good for the judge on appeal, even if it’s allowed to be appealed. But we shouldn’t be talking about those things. Let’s stick to the basics. I don’t want to make a lawyer out of you.”
Michael looked around the courtroom. Every seat was filled. People whispered to each other. Reporters were everywhere.
Everyone stood when the bailiff commanded, “All rise.”
Judge Robert Jordan was about sixty-eight, a little overweight with white hair and a solemn face. He rustled a few pages on his desk and examined each one carefully. The jury walked in, led by the bailiff.
Brenda turned to Michael and whispered, “Stand up and face the jury.”
Everyone at the defense table stood and looked at the jury as Mr. Weisman sat with his head buried in a folder. The courtroom was now silent. Michael watched the prosecutor rub his eyes as he approached the jury box to give his opening statement. He looked tired.
David Weisman was a tall man, average weight, about sixty with graying black hair and a serious demeanor. He graduated from Columbia Law School and became a felony trial attorney. He had conducted over one hundred jury trials to verdict and prosecuted twenty-five first degree murder cases.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is David Weisman and I will present the people’s case against Michael Ross for the premeditated murder of Harry Sanders, who was found dead in Mr. Ross’s garage on the night of August sixteenth, this year. The State’s case rests on the fact that Harry Sanders died as the result of carbon monoxide asphyxiation brought upon him by Michael Ross.
“The evidence will show that handcuffs, belonging to the defendant, were used to shackle Mr. Sanders’s arm to a pipe in Michael Ross’s garage. The defendant then proceeded to turn on the engine of his car, close the garage door, and leave Mr. Sanders to die.
“Every indication leads the prosecution to believe that Michael Ross’s intention was to kill Harry Sanders, willfully and with premeditation. There is no question about it. After possibly baiting the deceased for a considerable time and then luring him to his home, Michael Ross caused Mr. Sanders’s death with gas fumes from his 1960 Chevrolet in a closed garage. Those are the facts, facts that cannot be denied.
“The defendant, by his own admission, said he killed Harry Sanders in the manner described. He claims that the deceased was the man responsible for killing his family in Auschwitz concentration camp in 1944. We don’t know if there is any truth to that, but it’s not an issue in this case. The defense may argue that Mr. Ross had many reasons for taking Harry Sanders’s life. However, it was all about revenge, ladies and gentlemen, pure and simple. Ross had the motive and the means with which to carry out this heinous act.
“Harry Sanders committed no crime. The defense will say that his real name was something different. There is no proof of that. If the defendant felt that Harry Sanders truly killed his family, as he alleges, or was a war criminal, Mr. Ross should have reported it to the Justice Department. They have handled many of these cases.
“Instead, Michael Ross took the law into his own hands and he alone made the conscious decision to, unlawfully, take Mr. Sanders’s life, a man with no criminal record, someone who has never hurt anyone. Taking the law into one’s own hands cannot be tolerated in this country. No one has the right to decide who lives and who dies.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Michael Ross had no right to take a human life!
“Mr. Ross may ask you to believe that he killed Harry Sanders due to circumstances he claims were beyond his control. However, we will bring in witnesses who will prove that Michael Ross is competent and that he followed a well-conceived plan, with intent and premeditation, to kill Harry Sanders, an innocent person, who posed no threat to anyone.”
Weisman paused, looked at the jury, and spoke in a softer tone, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have come a long way from vigilante punishments. We are a country of laws, laws that I, as an officer of the court, have the privilege and obligation to defend. Did the defendant have no other choice? Was there no other recourse but to kill Mr. Sanders?
“The motive for his action was revenge, plain and simple, and nothing else. What Michael Ross did was carefully planned, with the intent to kill.
“I will produce evidence, witnesses, and expert testimony that will support the facts and prove that the defendant in this case had the intention and tools to kill Harry Sanders in cold blood. And Mr. Ross killed him with total disregard for the law.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are here in this courtroom to serve the law. You will be charged by the court to base your judgments on the facts and the law. I ask you to please put your emotions aside and act in the name of justice. Weigh the evidence and find Michael Ross guilty of first-degree murder.
“Thank you.”
Mr. Weisman sat down, placed a legal pad in front of him, and folded his arms.
***
Brenda Coleman approached the jury. She wore a navy blue-tailored suit, black heels, and no jewelry, not even her wedding ring, except for a string of pearls visible under her jacket. Her only makeup was a touch of red lipstick. Brenda did not speak as she paced in front of the jury. She looked into the eyes of each juror, one by one, seven women and five men, and then introduced herself.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Brenda Coleman. I am the defense counsel for Professor Michael Ross, and I feel privileged to represent him in the case before you today.”
Brenda paused and asked, “What would you do if you answered a knock on your front door and saw a man standing in front of you, a man you realized was the person who murdered your family?” She walked past the jury box and stroked her chin. “What would you do?” She paused again. “How would you react? Would you be calm? Angry? Out of control?” She shook her head.
“Wouldn’t you want to do something, anything? I might reach out and try to strangle him and not even remember that I did it. Some acts are the result of a strong natural impulse that human beings have and I think we can all understand that feeling.
“Imagine, for a moment, that a man deliberately ran over your young daughter and killed her, right in front of your eyes, as you watched her blood pouring out onto the street. What would you do? What would you be feeling? No one could ever imagine your trauma, excruciating pain, and the hatred you felt for the driver. No one could know how someone would react under those agonizing circumstances. Perhaps some impulse, hidden deep inside you, would erupt and force you to take action. If it were my child, after I saw my little girl was dead, no one would be able to stop me from dragging the driver out of his car and pummeling him. It would be reasonable for many to believe that I acted out of human emotion because of what I was feeling and why I had to act.”
Brenda paced for a few moments, looked at the jury, and, in a voice just above a whisper, said, “And we’re all human, aren’t we?” She walked past the jury box and sighed.
“You heard Mr. Weisman’s opening remarks stating what he hopes to prove in this case, but you only heard his side, and we all know every story has two sides.
“The evidence he will present against my client may seem overwhelming, but it’s because the prosecutor has grossly misinterpreted the facts, facts that he hopes will lead you into making an unjust decision. Please don’t let that happen. We all know that life, as well as facts, cannot simply be painted black or white. Sometimes a more accurate interpretation of the facts presents them in a new light, a light that is closer to the truth. Look deeply into the so-called facts that Mr. Weisman says he can prove. The truth is that Professor Ross took action consistent with his mental state at the time. His behavior resulted from the emotional and volatile circumstances he faced. His mental state drove him to act in the same manner many of us would under the same conditions. What he did was no different from what you might do if you opened your front door and saw the evil man who murdered your family standing in front of you.
“You will have to make a difficult choice, ladies and gentlemen, and in order for you to arrive at a just verdict, you must evaluate the facts and the law in a new light, a light shaped by the circumstances over which the defendant had no control. I will prove by the evidence supported by the testimony of expert witnesses that Michael Ross’s action on the night of August sixteenth was consistent with his mental state at that moment and that he acted under compelling circumstances.
“Ladies and gentleman, this is the first murder case of such magnitude in which I have ever participated. I took this case for one reason and one reason only, to show that what happened in Michael Ross’s life deserves to be heard.”
Brenda took a deep breath.
“As a jury, you have been given a special honor by our society, a society willing to judge others by its peers. You have a major duty to perform in this courtroom, and you must judge a man whose life is at stake. It is your job to act in the name of justice, because from the beginning to the end of this trial, you are the law, and as such, I ask you to keep an open mind and find Michael Ross not guilty.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 22
The prosecution called Officer Jack Baker to the stand, and he was sworn.
“Good afternoon, Officer Baker,” David Weisman said as he thumbed through his papers. “Were you the first officer on the scene at 1824 Woodland Lane on the evening of August sixteenth?”
“I was,” Baker said, leaning forward.
“What were the circumstances that brought you there?”
“It was in response to a call to the station. A man walking his dog passed the house in question. He was concerned because he heard the sound of a car engine running inside the closed garage and he went back to his house to call the police.”
“What time did the station receive the call, and what time did you arrive at the scene?”
Baker opened his notebook. “The station received the call at 7:20 p.m. I arrived at 7:29.”
“When you got to the address, what were your observations?”
“Flashing red and white lights were everywhere. Two fire trucks were there and an ambulance. I watched the firemen smash the lock out of the garage door with a sledgehammer, then they strapped on Scott air packs and entered the garage. I saw them turn off the car engine.”
“Were you able to identify the maker of the car?”
“Yes, sir. It was a Chevy Bel Air. The registration showed that it was a 1960 model.”
The prosecutor turned from the witness.
“Let the record show that a 1960 Chevrolet Bel Air belonging to Michael Ross was found in the garage.”
Weisman asked Baker, “Then what did you do?”
“I was careful not to touch anything and I secured the scene to make sure no evidence was destroyed or tampered with. At 7:45 p.m., Dr. Warther appeared. He was the medical examiner. A few minutes later, crime scene investigators and a photographer arrived. After the fire chief pronounced the garage safe to enter, Dr. Warther examined the victim and declared him dead. The photographer took pictures of the victim and the garage. The investigators proceeded to collect evidence from the surrounding area.”
“Then what?” Weisman asked.
“The medical examiner handed me a pair of surgical gloves and asked me to remove the handcuffs from the victim’s left hand and secure the cuffs as evidence.”
“Officer Baker, tell the jury how you were able to remove the handcuffs.”
“I used my key to unlock the cuffs to release him.”
“You had a key that fit?”
“Yes, sir. Almost all police handcuffs have a standard key.”
“I see. So, these were basic police handcuffs?”
“Yes, sir. They were handcuffs that police normally carry.”
; “Would you say it’s possible for an average person to buy official police handcuffs?”
“Yes, police handcuffs and other restraints are readily available.” Officer Baker paused, then added, “But in most cases, you have to prove you are in some branch of law enforcement in order to buy them.”
A subtle flash of annoyance crossed the prosecutor’s face before he asked his next question.
“What did you do with the handcuffs after you removed them from the deceased?”
“I put them in an evidence bag, sealed it, and marked it.”
“Would you tell the court how the handcuffs you placed in the bag were protected from tampering?”
“I followed the chain of custody procedures. I gave the sealed evidence bag to the detective who arrived at the scene, and he signed the label on the bag, adding the date and time. Subsequently, the chain of custody records showed that the handcuffs were stored in a secure location in substantially the same condition from the moment they were bagged and labeled. The bag was given to Detective Jack Forrest, who signed for the bagged evidence and brought it to the court.”
David Weisman held the handcuffs in his hands and addressed the judge.
“Your honor, I would like to present the handcuffs in question that were on the deceased’s wrists and placed in an evidence bag by Officer Baker.” The handcuffs were shown to the judge and defense counsel and placed in evidence.
“Officer Baker, were any other people at the scene who were not first responders?”
Officer Baker looked down at his notes. “No, not until a man arrived on the scene, a few minutes later on foot. He was a man I knew as Michael Ross, a pharmacist at a local pharmacy in town. He approached the ambulance and briefly spoke to the medical examiner. Then he came over to me, identified himself, and said, ‘I killed that man. He murdered my family in Auschwitz.’”
“He admitted that he killed him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then what did you do?”
The Chemist's Shop Page 13