First degree (14 page)

The interesting period in Dorsey's record starts with Laurie's accusations against him, which are documented here. There is a report from Internal Affairs which, while not exactly on the scale of the Warren Commission, nevertheless confirmed Laurie's charges and expanded upon them.

Dorsey was in business with Dominic Petrone in various areas of his operation, mostly loan-sharking, prostitution, and drugs. His role in those businesses was essentially to provide protection--actually insulation--against the police. Occasionally, his role was even more active and direct, but it is clear that his value to Petrone was in his capacity as a police lieutenant.

The FBI did in fact intervene to save Dorsey's job two years ago, and the specific intervener was Special Agent Darrin Hobbs. Amazingly, Hobbs provided not much more information to the police than he provided to me; he simply said that there was an important FBI investigation that would be compromised if Dorsey's role were to be revealed. Hobbs said that the operation had nothing to do with Dorsey but was directed at "elements of organized crime." The fact that the Paterson authorities caved in to this federal intervention is not exactly something they should be proud of and is most likely the reason they resisted turning the information over to me.

In return for receiving the incredibly mild punishment of a reprimand, Dorsey promised to desist from his unlawful activities in the future. There is some evidence that he kept that promise, but only for a short time. About six months ago, Internal Affairs became aware that Dorsey was at it again, and that charge was also confirmed.

Hobbs was made aware of the situation before action was taken, but this time neither he nor anyone else in the FBI intervened. Dorsey was about to be arrested when he disappeared, and a week later the body that they believe to be Dorsey's was discovered.

It is rather depressing for us to get the information that we have been seeking and discover that it is not particularly helpful. It opens up no new areas to investigate or strategies to formulate.

The next nail in our legal coffin is a phone call from Nick Sabonis. He informs me that they have turned up zero evidence that Dorsey might be alive. It will remain an open investigation, but as far as he and the department are concerned, Dorsey is dead. He allows that he is not saying Laurie is lying about the phone call, simply that she must have been deceived by a fake or crank caller.

My frustration is reaching the boiling point. "Mind if I ask you a question, Nick? How is it you came to be on the Dorsey case?"

He pauses for a moment, considering the implications of the question. "Why? You think I'm this mysterious 'lieutenant' that Dorsey was working with?"

"Somebody was," I say. "At this point I'm not ready to eliminate anyone."

"Be careful who you're accusing," he says, his tone even more ominous than his words.

"Are you going to answer my question, Nick?"

"I asked on the case."

"Why?"

"I didn't like Dorsey or what he was doing. But I like cop-killers even less."

TIME IS THE
ULTIMATE PAIN IN THE ASS
. I
T CONSISTENTLY
, absolutely, and obnoxiously does the exact opposite of what one wants it to do. This is my theory and I'm sticking to it. In fact, it is just one of the profound theories I am able to come up with in situations such as this, lying in bed, unable to sleep, at three o'clock in the morning.

The weeks leading up to the trial, set to begin later this morning, represent a perfect example of my premise. For Laurie the calendar has moved excruciatingly slowly, as she awaited the day when her confinement would be at least partially relieved and, more important, she could be on the way to legal vindication.

For Kevin and me today's trial date approached like a speeding, out-of-control freight train. We spent every moment of every day trying to prepare, to figure out a defense strategy that we could have confidence in, and yet haven't come close.

I fall asleep around four and wake up at seven, adrenaline starting to pump. Laurie seems more excited than nervous. The prospect of actually getting out of the house holds such great appeal that it has temporarily overpowered the natural fear that she should and will feel. But that's okay; right now I'm afraid enough for both of us.

A bailiff arrives at nine to accompany Laurie to court, and she has her first experience wading through the gathered press outside. The questions called out to her mainly refer to her feelings as the trial is about to begin. Some ask about our personal relationship, which has made for considerable fodder in the press in recent days. There has been open speculation that Laurie broke up my marriage, and veiled criticism about the propriety of mixing our private lives with our professional ones.

I have responded openly and directly, completely acknowledging that I am and have been in love with Laurie, starting after my marriage had ended but before she had become my client. But for Laurie it is difficult and embarrassing to take, especially since she has no choice but to take it.

The press crush is far greater at the courthouse than at home, but we are given a special entrance through the back, so as to avoid it. Before long we are seated at the defense table, as Hatchet goes through the formalities involved in opening the proceedings.

At the defense table with me are Kevin and Laurie. Across the aisle Dylan sits with two other prosecutors. He is dressed in his Sunday best; I'm surprised he doesn't have a flower in his lapel. He has an air of confidence about him, confidence that I wish were misplaced.

The gallery is packed, as expected, and according to the bailiff, the public won their coveted seats through a lottery drawing that will be held each day. The group today, while they might consider themselves lucky winners, is about to be bored out of their minds by the tedium of jury selection.

I've consulted two jury consultants on tactics but ultimately decided to go it on my own. One of the few things we have going for us is the incongruity between Laurie's appearance and demeanor on the one hand and the brutality of the crime on the other. The consultants felt that female jurors would have the most trouble believing Laurie could do such a thing, but I don't agree. I'm going to listen to my gut instincts, although it would be nice if my gut would stop churning and allow me to hear them.

It is conventional wisdom to say that jury selection is perhaps the most important phase of a trial, a process during which cases can be won or lost before a single witness is called. In theory this is true, but in practice it is rarely that decisive.

Competent lawyers have become sophisticated enough at jury selection that it is very unusual for one side to gain a decisive advantage. It's like in a football game. The mechanics of the game, the x's and o's, are vital to a team's success, but modern coaching staffs have become so knowledgeable that it is usually in other areas that a team develops a winning edge.

Every chance Dylan gets, he publicly describes Laurie as a tough-as-nails former cop, while my goal is to have everyone view her as a delicate flower. In the real world she's both, so it makes our little game more challenging.

Laurie hates when I refer to a trial as a game, but that's how I see it, that's how I have to see it to perform at my best. And it is a game in the sense that it has strategy and luck, peaks and valleys, ebbs and flows, and winners and losers. The stakes are not what make a game a game; you play to win and then you cash in your chips, whatever they are worth.

For me to be effective, I must depersonalize the case, view it only from the perspective of proper strategy and tactics. That is my greatest danger here, other than the fact that the prosecution has a seemingly airtight case. It is a constant struggle for me to step back and look at the game, without looking at the people and the incredibly high stakes.

I am scared that I will not do well enough to win, but I will not do well enough to win if I am scared.

Hatchet is in good form. I've always suspected that he carries a "glower meter" with him. The more significant the occasion, the more momentous the moment, the more he glowers and threatens. Today the meter is hitting approximately a seven, which is to say he would certainly chew a lawyer up, but might not spit him out. It's a sign that he considers this an important trial. He's right about that.

After about an hour Hatchet turns to me. "Is the defense ready?"

"Yes," I lie, and we're under way in the case of the
State of New Jersey v. Laurie Collins
.

One hundred prospective jurors are brought into the room, and Hatchet gives them his standard lecture on the importance of jury service to society. He thanks them for being good citizens, but he knows as well as I do that they are here because, unlike the majority of their fellow good citizens, they couldn't figure out how to get an excuse from serving.

The jurors are given questionnaires to fill out, answering many of the questions that the lawyers would ask. This is designed to reduce the repetition and time necessary to get through this process, as the written responses often disqualify people without us having to take the time to question them.

It takes two and a half days to empanel the twelve citizens, plus four alternates, who will decide Laurie's fate. Seven men, three African-Americans, one Hispanic. There's not a brain surgeon in the group, but for a jury I would say they're above average in intelligence and apparent open-mindedness. That's important, since they're going to have to be receptive to our defense, should we happen to come up with one.

The last juror is sworn in at three o'clock in the afternoon, and Dylan takes Hatchet up on his offer to delay opening statements until tomorrow morning. That's fine with me; I can use the extra time to prepare. I ask Kevin and Marcus to be at the house at six o'clock, and we can once again go over where we are and where we have to go.

Laurie makes dinner, then sits with us in the den. Marcus is very frustrated; he feels he has never done so little to advance a case, yet for him this is the most important case that he has ever worked on. Stynes's real identity and his connection to the murder are still a complete mystery, as are Dorsey's whereabouts.

I'm disappointed that Laurie has not received any more communications from Dorsey. I was hoping that he would have a need to continue contacting her so that he could twist the knife even further. We've even set up an elaborate taping system on her cell phone so that we could nail him. No such luck.

Marcus has had success in cataloguing a list of missing persons who might be the actual decapitated body found in the warehouse. After narrowing it down by height, weight, and time of disappearance, there are seven possibilities. Unfortunately, every possible cross-check has not yielded a connection between any of these people and Dorsey.

Marcus leaves about nine o'clock, and Kevin and I go over the parameters of my opening statement. I don't like to write openings out in advance; even detailed notes seem to cut down on my spontaneity and effectiveness. So we go over general areas, points to be made, and then I send him on his way.

Laurie and I get into bed at about eleven, and we lie there talking for an hour or so. She's a realist; she knows how difficult the situation is. The tension I am feeling is overwhelming, and it must be that much worse for her. At least I have some control over the events of the next few weeks; she can only watch and then face whatever consequences those events cause. Even Tara seems to be on edge, uncharacteristically barking out the window at street noises.

Once Laurie and Tara go to sleep, I can focus on Barry Leiter and perform my nightly self-flagellation. I will always consider myself to blame for his murder, and I will always be right.

It's a really long night.

We've been studiously avoiding television coverage of the case, and this morning is no exception. It's very difficult for Laurie to watch people openly calling her a murderer, and the few that are on her side represent small consolation.

Today, however, she will hear Dylan give his opening statement, and it will be far worse than anything she might hear on television. She will have to listen as he tells the jury that she decapitated Alex Dorsey and set fire to his body, and she will hear him ask that jury to send her to prison for the rest of her life. I restate to her what she already knows: that she must sit there stoically and unemotionally, not reacting in any way.

Outside the courthouse today, it is even more chaotic than usual, and inside, the tension level has been ratcheted up considerably. All of this is due to the start of opening statements. The prosecution gets to present its road map of the crime, telling the jury exactly what it is they will prove. They promise only what they believe they can deliver, and in this case that is quite a bit.

Before Hatchet brings in the jury so the statements can begin, he asks if there are any last-minute things we need to go over. We had included my name on our witness list, since I'm the only one who can testify to the meeting I had with Stynes. Dylan attempts to get Hatchet to rule that I should be prohibited from testifying, since Stynes is not relevant to the case. The canons of legal ethics frown on lawyers as witnesses and preach that efforts should be made not to take on cases in which the lawyer will have to testify. But it is not prohibited, and I'm not backing out.

I stand and argue that Stynes is completely relevant, that he in fact is the sole reason Laurie was out behind the stadium. Hatchet decides to defer his decision until the defense case is set to begin, and he calls in the jury.

Lawyers, start your mouths.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dylan begins, in a tone reflecting his sadness that we have to be here at all, "over the next few weeks you are going to hear different points of view about the incidents that brought us here today. But let me make one fact very clear right at the start."

He walks over toward the defense table and stands a few feet away from Laurie, pointing at her. "This is the person on trial. This is the person whose actions you are here to judge. Now, that may seem obvious now, but soon it won't be. That is because Mr. Carpenter is going to stand up here and try to make Alex Dorsey the person on trial. That's right, he is going to make the victim the criminal, and the criminal the victim.

"Make no mistake about it, Mr. Carpenter is going to pull some tricks that would make Houdini blush. You'll watch as he makes a man rise from the dead, you'll be shocked as he turns a murdered man into a conspirator, capable of concocting grand schemes, and you'll shake your head when, for his next trick, he turns a brutal murderer into an innocent, victimized woman.

"It will be amazing, and it will be amusing, but it will all be nonsense. Because fortunately, there will also be facts that even a magician like Mr. Carpenter can't make disappear, and those facts, every single one of them, will lead you to the conclusion that Laurie Collins brutally murdered Lieutenant Alex Dorsey of the Paterson Police Department."

He points toward Laurie again. "Doesn't look the part, does she? Not who you envision when you think of a person who could decapitate a human being and set the body on fire. The very idea of it seems almost beyond comprehension. But I've prosecuted a lot of horrible criminals, ladies and gentlemen, and let me tell you something: They come in all different shapes and sizes. I've seen mothers that killed their children, I've seen schoolchildren that killed their friends, and none of them looked the part of killer.

"Laurie Collins was a police officer until she left the force after a dispute with Alex Dorsey. She carried a grudge against him and against another man, Oscar Garcia. So she concocted a plan, to murder Lieutenant Dorsey and to frame Mr. Garcia for that murder. Two birds with one stone. And it almost worked."

He shakes his head, both for effect and to demonstrate his own amazement at the brazenness of Laurie's crimes, and repeats, "It almost worked."

Dylan then gets into the meat and potatoes of his case, describing the crime and the prosecution's theory of how it was accomplished. "And I say to you today, there is nothing we will claim that we will not prove. Nothing. By the time Judge Henderson sends you off to deliberate, you will have no trouble understanding that we have proved not just beyond a reasonable doubt but beyond any doubt that Laurie Collins committed one of the most heinous crimes this county has ever witnessed. And I know, I am absolutely positive, that you will bring her to justice."

The eye contact Kevin makes with me tells me that he agrees with my assessment that Dylan has done a strong job. It was clear, concise, persuasive, and it had the jury's attention throughout. It also maintained and took good advantage of the presumption of guilt.

There is a myth going around, something about the Constitution granting everyone the presumption of innocence. In the real world, that is total nonsense. Juries go in thinking that the accused is most likely guilty, or that person would not be on trial.

That leads right into the second myth, which is that the prosecution carries the burden of proof and that the defense bears no burden at all. The burden is absolutely on the defense, starting with the opening statement, to aggressively attack that presumption of guilt and plant in the jury's mind that this defendant just might, wonder of wonders, be innocent. If the defense does not meet that burden, the defendant will be eating off of tin plates for years to follow.