Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7) (12 page)

20

Juror #5.

That was Howard Marlowe’s identifying number. He stood along with thirteen other men and women – twelve jurors, two alternates – to swear their oaths to the court. With that, the trial began.

The judge, the Honorable Jeffrey R. Edblad, spoke directly to the jury, and Howard tried to concentrate on his words. Edblad had short gray hair, black glasses, and a rounded face. If he hadn’t been a lawyer and a judge, Howard figured he could have been a teacher. He was calm, and he spoke slowly and deliberately, like a father offering words of wisdom to a teenager about to take the car out for the first time. I’ll be fair, I’ll be gentle, but I’ll be firm.

Members of the jury, you will hear testimony from witnesses in this trial. It will be up to you to evaluate their credibility and decide how much weight to give what they say. I’m asking you to be patient and listen carefully to each witness and not to come to any conclusions until you have heard all of the evidence.

Howard felt restless. It was hard to come down from the adrenaline high of being here. His eyes flicked around the courtroom, which was smaller than he expected. He and his fellow jurors were seated in blue cushioned chairs inside the jury box. The two counsel tables were placed side by side, barely six feet away from them. He thought it strange to see the prosecutor and defense attorney seated next to each other, like colleagues rather than adversaries. Judge Edblad’s platform, inside a wooden enclosure at the front of the courtroom, was only slightly elevated. There were tables and computers for the clerk and court reporter. Everyone was close together.

The room was narrow but very tall, with twenty-five-foot walls broken up by dark wood panels and white stone blocks. The chambered ceiling featured sculpted trim painted in gold and green. One set of double-wide doors led in and out to the marble hallway of the courthouse. Behind the counsel tables, a few rows of spectator benches were completely filled by the media.

You should rely on your own judgment and common sense to evaluate the testimony of each witness. You will need to decide for yourself whether they are sincere, whether you believe them, whether what they say is reasonable or unreasonable.

His fellow jurors looked as ordinary as he did. Eight women. Six men. Twelve of them white, plus one black man and one black woman. The youngest juror couldn’t have been more than twenty-five years old. The oldest, a woman in a blue dress with her hands in her lap, was at least seventy. Howard was seated at the end of the front row, closest to the counsel tables. The lone black woman, who was in her mid-thirties and wore a burgundy pants suit, sat next to him. She had a pleasant smile.

While this trial is going on, there are things you shouldn’t do. Remember, you aren’t investigators or detectives, so you shouldn’t go looking for information about this case. Your family and friends are likely to be curious about what you’re doing, but you should not discuss the case with anyone else. You shouldn’t read articles about it in the newspaper or online or watch news reports.

Janine Snow was directly in front of him.

She was seated at the end of the counsel table beside her attorney, Archibald Gale. If she’d reached out her hand, if Howard had reached out his hand, they could have touched. She wore a light blue suit with a rose blouse underneath. Styled blond hair, each strand in place. An expressionless, enigmatic face. He could see her blue eyes as she watched the judge. She kept her hands folded primly in front of her. He was close enough to her that he could see the small birth mark near her mouth and the pale pink shade of her lipstick. As beautiful as she was, she wasn’t completely ageless. He could see tiny creases in her skin, hiding discreetly under her makeup.

He knew he was staring and that he should drag his eyes away. She must have felt him studying her, because her head swiveled slightly, and their eyes met. It felt to him just as it had in the mall that day. There was something intimate and extremely erotic about it. Her eyes didn’t smile or beg him for mercy; she simply answered his own stare, human to human, woman to man. He looked down at his lap, embarrassed.

He hadn’t lied in the juror interviews. Not really. He’d acknowledged that he was aware of the case, but that was true of anyone in Duluth. No, he hadn’t formed a conclusion about Dr. Snow’s guilt or innocence, and that was true. For everything he’d read about the murder, and for all the time he’d tried to divine the truth in pictures of her face, he really had no idea if she killed her husband. He was an ordinary man with no connection to anyone involved in the crime. The perfect juror.

‘Mr. Erickson,’ Judge Edblad said, ‘do you wish to make your opening statement?’

‘Thank you, your honor,’ Dan Erickson said, standing up.

The county attorney remained behind the counsel table, but he spoke directly to the jury. Howard listened as the prosecutor laid out the elements of the case and what they would need to decide. The legal questions. The evidence questions. It all began here.

‘This trial is about a relationship that went badly wrong,’ Erickson told them. ‘It’s about a marriage where the wife wanted out and her husband refused to let her go. This wife – the defendant, Janine Snow – saw only one way to be free of her husband. Only one way to escape. Murder. That’s the story of this case. And the witnesses and physical evidence we show you in the next few days will make the details of that story very clear. When we’re done, you will conclude beyond any reasonable doubt that, on January 28 of this year, Janine Snow shot her husband, Jay Ferris, in the head and intentionally caused his death.’

Erickson was serious and confident. He didn’t smile; he wasn’t their buddy. He wore an expensive suit, not an everyman suit, as if he wanted Howard and the other jurors to believe that he was just a little smarter than they were, knew just a little more, had been down this road enough times that you could trust whatever he said.

‘Most of what happened on January 28 isn’t in dispute,’ Erickson continued. ‘We have an eyewitness who saw the defendant and Mr. Ferris together, and we have the defendant’s own statement to the police that night. She was alone in the house with her husband on the night of the murder. They argued. Minutes later, Jay Ferris lay dead of a gunshot wound to his head in the living room of their house. Not in dispute.

‘So what led these two people to that terrible moment? Multiple witnesses will testify that the defendant wanted to end her marriage but that her husband was determined not to grant her a divorce. That the relationship between them was volatile and that each tried to inflict psychological damage on the other. That the defendant’s husband, Jay Ferris, knew about his wife’s addiction to prescription pain medications and was threatening to expose this information and destroy her medical career. He held her whole future in his hands, ladies and gentlemen. That’s the situation Janine Snow faced on January 28. That’s why she used a gun to murder her husband.

‘Did the defendant know how to fire a gun? Yes, she did. We’ll show you a photograph of her firing a gun similar in kind to the gun used to murder Jay Ferris.

‘Did the defendant have access to a gun? Yes, she did. You’ll hear a witness testify that the defendant knew that her husband owned a gun and that she concealed that knowledge from the police. Her husband’s gun has since disappeared.

‘Did the defendant take steps to conceal whether she fired a gun on January 28? Yes, she did. By her own statement to the police, she took a shower and washed her clothes that night before the police arrived. So she made it impossible to run chemical tests on her body and her clothes that would have confirmed that she had fired a gun.

‘This story isn’t hard to understand, ladies and gentlemen. You won’t need anything more than your common sense to know what happened that night. Janine Snow caused the death of Jay Ferris.’

Howard felt the blank slate of his judgment fill with suspicion as Erickson spoke. Judge Edblad had already warned them that nothing an attorney said was evidence, and yet if the evidence revealed what Erickson promised, it was hard not to believe that the case was exactly as he stated.

Then Archibald Gale stood up.

He was warm where Dan Erickson was cool. He was like Santa Claus in a two-piece suit, with his curly hair, peppery beard, and twinkling eyes. He reminded them that Janine, sitting in that chair beside him, was innocent, and that the entire burden of proof rested with the state. With each sentence, delivered with a sad shake of his head, he cast doubt on that proof.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, pay attention to what you do
not
hear from the state in this case. You will not hear any evidence that Dr. Snow owned a gun, because there is no such evidence.

‘You will not hear any evidence that Dr. Snow fired a gun that night, because there is no such evidence.

‘You will not hear any evidence about the gun used to murder Jay Ferris, because that gun was never found. Think about that. Whoever killed Mr. Ferris took the gun away from the crime scene. On that basis alone, it’s reasonable for you to doubt that Dr. Snow could have committed this crime. But there’s more.’

Gale took a sip of water.

‘You will learn that Jay Ferris wrote things in his job as a columnist at the
Duluth
News-Tribune
that offended people. Outraged them. Cost them their jobs. It’s reasonable to wonder whether one of those people killed him.

‘You will learn that an unknown vehicle was parked in the neighborhood not far from Jay Ferris’s house on the night of the murder and that the police never located this vehicle or who was driving it. It’s reasonable to wonder whether that person killed him.

‘You will learn that Jay Ferris took pictures of an armed man while hiking in a park near Duluth and that the police never identified this man or interviewed him about his whereabouts on the night of the murder. It’s reasonable to wonder whether that dangerous man killed him.’

And so it went on.

By the time Archibald Gale sat down, Howard was back to where he’d started. A blank slate. He had no idea about Janine’s guilt or innocence. All he could do was stare at her face and wonder. This time, her face wasn’t a photograph on the computer screen in the basement of his house. She was real. She was so close that he could smell her perfume.

She was waiting for him to decide.

‘Mr. Erickson,’ Judge Edblad said, ‘call your first witness, please.’

21

Cindy felt physically ill on the witness stand.

At the counsel table, Janine offered her the tiniest of smiles. They were still friends. There were no hard feelings, even though Cindy was the first witness, pounding in the first nail.

Dan Erickson stood up to address her. Cindy knew exactly the kind of man he was. Inside the courtroom, he played his role, leading the jury down the path he wanted them to follow. Outside the courtroom, he was vain, self-absorbed, and manipulative. He was good-looking, and he knew it. He was married, but his eyes and hands wandered over every pretty woman he met.

He took her through introductions. Established who she was. And who her husband was.

‘Mrs. Stride, where were you on the evening of January 28 of this year?’

‘I was at a birthday party for Deputy Police Chief Kyle Kinnick at the Radisson Hotel.’

‘Was the defendant there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was the defendant’s husband Jay Ferris there?’

‘No.’

‘During the party, did you speak to the defendant?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Did you see her consume any alcohol?’

Cindy hesitated. ‘Yes.’

‘How much?’

‘I don’t know exactly. She was drinking white wine. She had several glasses.’

‘Did the defendant subsequently ask if you would drive her home?’

‘Yes, she did.’

‘And do you remember exactly what time it was when you drove her home?’

‘I remember that the clock in my car read 9:32 p.m. It’s not far. We would have reached Janine’s house just a few minutes later.’

‘When you arrived at the defendant’s house, did you accompany her to her front door?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘At that time, did you see Jay Ferris, the defendant’s husband?’

‘Yes, he came to the door and opened it.’

‘He was alive?’

Cindy smiled faintly. ‘Yes, obviously.’

‘Did you see or hear anyone else in the house?’

‘No.’

‘Were there any other cars in the driveway or parked near the house?’

‘No.’

‘What happened next?’

‘Janine went inside with Jay. He closed the door. I left.’

‘Before you left, could you hear any part of the conversation between the defendant and her husband?’

‘I heard loud voices. It sounded like an argument.’

‘Would you characterize this as a heated argument?’

‘I guess so, yes.’

‘Was there physical contact between them?’

‘Yes, Jay grabbed her wrist, and Janine pushed him away.’

‘Did you see or hear anything else?’

‘No, I left after that.’

‘As you left the house that night, Mrs. Stride, did you see anyone else?’

‘No. There was no one else there. I was alone.’

‘What about other cars?’

‘Mine was the only car.’

‘Did you see anything that raised your suspicions?’

‘No.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Stride. Now is it fair to say you consider the defendant a friend?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Do you see her regularly on social occasions?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Has the defendant ever shared any information with you about her perspectives on the state of her marriage?’

‘She told me that she considered her marriage to be a mistake,’ Cindy acknowledged.

‘Did she express an intent to seek a divorce?’

‘Yes, she did.’

‘On more than one occasion?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mrs. Stride, in December of last year, did you ask the defendant about the status of a possible divorce from Mr. Ferris?’

Cindy didn’t want to say it. She’d known the next question was coming. They’d gone over all of it in her statement to the police. Even so, she hated having to say it out loud, in a courtroom, with the jury listening. With Janine listening.

‘Yes. We had lunch, and I asked if she was going ahead with a divorce.’

‘What did she say?’

Cindy opened her mouth, but her throat was too dry to speak. She reached for the water and drank.

‘Mrs. Stride? How did the defendant answer that question when you asked her if she was proceeding with a divorce?’

‘She said no.’

‘Do you remember her exact words?’

‘She said, “I wish I could, but Jay has me trapped.”’

*

Archibald Gale stood up to conduct the cross-examination.

‘Mrs. Stride, while you were driving Dr. Snow home from the party on January 28, did you stop the car at any point?’

‘Yes. Janine wasn’t feeling well. I stopped, and she got out and threw up.’

‘So she was a mess?’ Gale asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Mrs. Stride, if you threw up on the side of the road, what would you do when you got home?’

Cindy smiled. ‘I’d take a shower.’

‘And what would you do with your clothes?’

‘I’d put them in the washing machine.’

‘Thank you. Now when you arrived at Dr. Snow’s residence and you saw Jay Ferris, did he have a gun?’

‘No.’

‘He wasn’t waving one in the air?’

Another smile. She saw the jurors smiling, too. ‘No.’

‘What about Dr. Snow? Did she have a gun at the party?’

‘No, not that I saw. I mean, she had a purse, but it was tiny. It would have been noticeable if something as big as a gun were inside.’

‘Okay. And you say you left Dr. Snow’s house at approximately 9:45 p.m., is that about right?’

‘Yes, that would be about right. A couple minutes on either side of that.’

‘You have no idea what happened at the house after you left, do you?’

‘No.’

‘If a car drove up to the house thirty seconds after you turned onto Skyline Parkway, you would have no way of knowing that, is that right?’

‘That’s true.’

‘Thank you. Mrs. Stride, did Dr. Snow ever threaten her husband in your presence?’

‘No.’

‘Did she ever tell you that she wished she could kill him? Or that she wished he was dead?’

‘No, nothing like that.’

‘Did she ever seem desperate to you about her marital situation?’

‘Janine? Desperate? No.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Stride,’ Gale said. He began to sit down, but then he stopped. ‘Oh, I’m very sorry, could you tell the jury – did you have a frightening experience at Miller Hill Mall this spring?’

Dan stood up immediately. ‘Objection, your honor. This line of questioning is outside the scope of direct examination, and it’s not relevant to the case.’

Judge Edblad waited. ‘Mr. Gale?’

‘Your honor, the incident I’m asking about arose because of the witness’s relationship with Lieutenant Stride of the Duluth Police – a relationship that Mr. Erickson inquired about under direct examination. In addition, the incident arose because of Lieutenant Stride’s investigation into this specific case, which certainly makes it relevant.’

‘I’m overruling the objection,’ the judge replied.

Gale continued to Cindy: ‘You can answer the question.’

‘I – yes, I did,’ Cindy said.

‘Please tell us what happened.’

‘I followed a man at the mall, and he confronted and threatened me. He had a gun.’

‘What was the nature of his threat?’

‘He said I shouldn’t stick my nose into his business. He said bad things happened to people who did that. And then he showed me a gun.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Gale said. ‘What a terrifying experience for you. Please tell the jury, Mrs. Stride, why did you follow this man in the first place?’

Cindy felt herself flushing. ‘I believed that he was a man that my husband, Lieutenant Stride, was looking for.’

‘Why did you believe that?’

‘I saw a set of photographs in a stack of evidence that Jonny – that Lieutenant Stride left on our kitchen table. The photos showed a man in the woods carrying an assault rifle, and there was a note about trying to find him. This looked like the same man.’

‘This stack of evidence that the Lieutenant brought home to study, do you know what case it was part of?’

‘Yes, it was evidence connected to the murder of Jay Ferris,’ Cindy said.

Gale nodded as he sat down. ‘Thank you, Mrs. Stride.’

*

‘Mrs. Stride, how long did you look at these photographs?’ Dan Erickson asked on his redirect examination.

‘A few seconds, I guess.’

‘Ten seconds? Twenty? Thirty?’

‘Closer to ten,’ Cindy admitted.

‘Were these crisp, clear, high-resolution photos?’

‘No, they were blurry.’

‘And how long after you saw these photographs did you follow this stranger at the mall?’

‘Several days.’

‘You saw a couple of blurry pictures for maybe ten seconds, and days later, you saw someone that you
thought
might be the same man – do I have that right?

‘Yes,’ Cindy said.

‘Can you say for sure that this was the same man, Mrs. Stride?’

‘Not for sure, no.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Stride. That’s all.’