Chapter 54
Eddie
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Harry as we walked along Center Street toward the court building at eight fifteen on a fresh morning.
‘Was any alcohol involved in this thinking process?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ said Harry. ‘I do some of my best thinking when I’ve had a glass or six.’
‘Anything helpful come out of this drinking session?’
‘You mean thinking session. Anyway, I’ve been researching spousal privilege like you’d asked.
It’s interesting. That particular door swings both ways, Eddie.
I found a few pieces of case law that might help.
The privilege is a shield that is supposed to protect both spouses as a marital unit.
There’s a similarity to the fifth amendment right against self-incrimination.
These are the head notes,’ he said, and drew out a page from his old leather satchel.
I read it as we walked. ‘You got copies of these cases for the judge and Riley?’
‘This isn’t my first time in a courtroom.’
‘You got any more bright ideas?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll get drunk again tonight and let you know what happens.’
Vanessa sat in court, dressed exactly how I wanted.
She still didn’t know why, but that was okay.
Better she didn’t know.
Detective Lorraine Carey resumed her seat on the witness stand and Judge Tanner glared at me like I was something unpleasant that she’d found on the sole of her shoe.
The jury had had all night to take in Carey’s testimony and the security video footage.
Leaving court yesterday with that footage in their minds was one hell of a disadvantage for me.
DA Riley and Judge Tanner had seen to it that the jury had time to think on all of that damning evidence without a word of response from the defense.
The jury all looked a little more relaxed today, as if they didn’t have to pay much more attention to what happened in this trial.
The jury, it seemed to me, had already decided that Vanessa was guilty.
Sometimes, luck plays a little part in a trial. It shouldn’t, really. There is only the testimony and the evidence and the words from the lawyers, but very occasionally lady luck lends a hand. Can that tip the scales of justice one way or the other? Not really.
Can it help?
Sure.
Detective Carey held her chin up high, her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. My little slice of luck came in her outfit choice.
She was dressed all in black today. Black business suit. Black blouse. Black shoes.
Confident and assured today after her strong performance yesterday.
The video footage proved that Vanessa had lied to the police when she said she had never been to Molly Green’s apartment.
And the jury had seen her being the last person leaving that building before the victim’s body was found, together with the contents of a Nike gym bag that looked, for all to see, as if she was carrying the victim’s head in that bag.
As I stood up to cross-examine Carey, she gave me a smug grin.
Just to piss me off.
Then quickly returned to a neutral expression before the jury saw it.
She had done well yesterday.
Today would be different.
I stared at her for a moment, letting the anticipation build. Came around the defense table and stood in front of the jury.
I opened my mouth, hesitated, then returned to the defense table and picked up the three empty glasses that sat there.
A fresh jug of water was provided by the court staff every morning.
With my back to the witness, I poured two glasses of water.
One for Vanessa, one for Harry. I placed Harry’s glass in front of him, and Vanessa’s in front of her. She mouthed a thank you.
I poured a glass for me, took a sip.
I could almost hear Tanner’s blood pressure surging.
‘Ask you quite ready, Mr. Flynn?’ she asked.
I put down the water, turned and faced the witness.
‘Yes, Your Honor. Detective Carey, how can you be sure the woman in the video footage the jury saw yesterday is my client, Vanessa Vanderpool?’
This was about the worst question any defense attorney could have asked.
And I put it in the worst way possible. A pure, open question.
The equivalent of an underarm pitch in professional baseball that a half-blind batter could send into the fourth row of the bleachers.
Carey now had an opportunity to lay out her case against the defendant, and repeat all of the worst parts in great detail.
Two of Riley’s assistant DAs whispered something, tried to suppress their laughter.
Riley wasn’t laughing. He was smart enough to know if I was going to show my ass in court there had to be a good reason.
‘Can I refer to the footage of the security camera again, please,’ said Detective Carey, and Riley’s assistants put it on the big screen for the whole court to see. Then she doubled down on the damage she’d caused yesterday.
‘This woman shown entering the building is wearing white pants, white blouse and light brown overcoat. She has long blonde hair, and although we can’t see her face in this clip we do get a better look when she exits the building. Can we see that clip?’
The prosecution loaded up the second clip.
‘As you can see,’ continued Carey, ‘this is the defendant. We can get a very clear view of her face. It’s a much closer angle, and we can see she has the same hair and she’s wearing the exact same outfit – white pants, white blouse and light brown overcoat.
Only difference this time is she’s carrying a Nike bag with what we believe to be the victim’s head inside. ’
Carey smiled at me when she finished her answer.
This was a lot easier than she’d expected. I had to start pushing back. Just a little.
‘You don’t know for sure what is in that bag, do you, Detective?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘And you are sure that both women seen in those clips are in fact the same person, the defendant, Mrs. Vanderpool?’
‘I am certain. The images, especially the second image, are crystal clear. It’s high resolution so I can almost read the brand label on the top button of her pants. The image could not be clearer.’
‘Let’s be sure. Mrs. Vanderpool, would you just stand up for a second, please?’ I asked.
As Vanessa stood, I saw a creeping realization spread over her face.
Now she knew why I’d asked her to dress like this today.
In court, she wore white pants. A white blouse, and a light colored, fawn jacket. Not the same overcoat, but the same color of jacket.
I approached the defense table, stood in front of it and turned back to Detective Carey.
‘Do you mean an outfit very similar to this?’
As I asked this, staring at the witness, I drew my right hand up, by my side, to point at the defendant.
My hand hit the full glass of water at speed, sending it tumbling over the defense table and Vanessa.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ I said, as Harry reached into his pocket for his handkerchief.
Vanessa brushed the water off her shirt, jacket, but mostly her white pants which were now dark with cold water.
‘Yes,’ said Carey, smiling at my incompetence. ‘That’s an almost exact match for her clothing. Apart from the sta—’
She stopped herself. Shut her mouth tight.
The other shoe had dropped.
‘Go on, Detective. Finish your answer.’
‘I’ve finished,’ she said.
‘I think you were going to say it’s a match apart from that staining that’s on her clothes now. Correct?’
She didn’t answer.
Didn’t have to.
‘This is one of the photographs taken by your forensic photographer of Molly Green’s apartment.’
Harry brought up an image on screen. A picture of a large wet bloodstain on the carpet.
‘That’s a thick pool of blood, correct?’
‘Yes,’ said Carey as she uncrossed her legs and put both feet firmly on the floor. She wasn’t so relaxed now.
‘So it’s your case that the defendant entered the victim’s building, crushed her skull with a jewelry box, leaving traces of the victim’s blood on the box, used some kind of tool, which you have never recovered, to then saw off the victim’s head, and then take it with her in that bag when she left. Is that right?’
She swallowed, then said, ‘Correct.’
‘And she did this without getting one single drop of blood on her clothes?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Carey.
‘You do know. You testified that this is a high-resolution picture of the defendant leaving that apartment, and because of what she’s wearing we would be able to see any bloodstaining very clearly, wouldn’t we?’
I turned to Vanessa. She hadn’t known what I was going to do, but she followed along and at least had the good sense to remain standing.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Carey.
‘Just a simple water stain is clear enough now. Blood would stand out even more, wouldn’t it?’
‘I suppose it would,’ said Carey.
‘There’s another entrance to this building. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘The front entrance, otherwise called the main entrance.’
‘Yes.’
‘And there’s no security camera covering that entrance?’
‘No.’
‘So anybody could have come to that building after my client left and visited Molly Green’s apartment and you wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?’
‘There’s no security camera covering that entrance.’
That wasn’t the question I’d asked. I was about to double down when Riley came to his senses.
‘Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Flynn has staged an inadmissible reconstruction in court by pretending to spill water on his client’s clothes, which I’m sure she was instructed to wear today.
I move that the entirety of this cross-examination be struck from the record and the jury instructed to ignore it. ’
‘The water was an accident, Your Honor. You can’t—’
She wasn’t interested in my excuses.
‘Sustained. The jury will disregard everything they have heard today. Mr. Flynn, that’s another thousand-dollar fine for contempt. Next time, I’m not going to fine you. I’m going to have you thrown in a cell, do you understand?’
‘I have an objection, Your Honor,’ I said. ‘I think your actions are confusing the jury, my client and everyone else in this courtroom.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ asked Tanner.
‘I just think it would be a hell of a lot clearer to everyone in this courtroom if you came down off the bench and just took your seat beside Mr. Riley at the prosecution table. That way my client and the jury won’t confuse you with an unbiased judge.’
I heard a few intakes of breath from the jury.
I’d made my point.
I didn’t have to look at Harry. I could feel him staring at the back of my head.
‘This case is adjourned for one hour,’ said Judge Tanner. ‘Bailiff, arrest Mr. Flynn.’