Grant of Immunity (21 page)

“Yes,” Collins said.

“You told Sergeant Babbage that you’d interviewed Mr. Hart, did you not?”

“I did say that to Mr. Babbage, yes.”

“Were you telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Then as of November seventeenth, you had interviewed Mr. Hart, correct?”

Jordan stood. “Objection, attorney-client privilege.”

“Overruled,” said Judge Fields. “I’ll permit it, subject to a motion to strike.”

Fields looked at Collins. “You may answer the question,” Fields said.

Collins shifted position in his seat. “Yes.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Objection,” said Amanda Jordan.

“Sustained,” said Judge Fields.

“But, Judge,” Reynolds said, “Sean Collins did not become counsel until
after
his visit to Sergeant Babbage.”

“You haven’t established that yet, Ms. Reynolds,” Fields said. “Objection sustained.”

“When were you retained as counsel, Mr. Collins?” Reynolds asked.

“Objection,” Jordan said.

“Overruled,” said Fields.

“The same day that I saw Mr. Babbage,” said Collins.

“Before or after?”

Collins hesitated. He looked to Jordan, who did not object. Collins said, “After.”

Reynolds smiled. “So at the time you interviewed Mr. Hart, you had not been retained as his counsel.”

“Correct.”

“All right,” Reynolds said. “Tell the court what Mr. Hart said to you.”

“Objection. Attorney-client privilege,” Ms. Jordan said.

“Sustained,” said Fields.

Reynolds stood, hands on hips. “Judge, that ruling is just plain wrong. I’ve clearly established that the defendant was not represented by Mr. Collins.”

“Ms. Reynolds,” Fields said, ignoring her rudeness, “I believe if you review the evidence code, you’ll see that the privilege extends to times before representation. If it were otherwise, persons accused of crimes would lose the privilege whenever they went to a lawyer, asking for advice.”

Reynolds looked down at her notes, a puzzled look on her face. “Wait a minute,” she said, then looked to Collins. “Who arranged your meeting with Hart?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did Mr. Hart request that you meet with him before the visit?”

Collins frowned. “No, I dropped in on him, unannounced.”

Reynolds smiled. “So he didn’t call you for the purpose of getting legal advice, did he?”

“No, he did not.”

“I thought so,” Reynolds said. “What did he tell you?”

“Objection,” Jordan said.

“Sustained,” Fields said.

“But, Your Honor,” Reynolds said, anger in her voice, “the defendant wasn’t asking for advice. There’s no possible way that privilege could apply.”

Fields was impressed with Reynolds’s tenacity. And her point. If Hart didn’t go to Collins for advice, maybe the privilege didn’t apply. He decided no. It was a difference without a distinction. “Objection sustained,” he ruled.

Reynolds exploded. “That makes no sense—you must reconsider,” she demanded. “The defendant obviously confessed to Mr. Collins, and then had second thoughts. That’s why he hired him as a lawyer. This is a transparent attempt to suppress testimony by hiding behind this so-called privilege.”

Jordan stood. “Your Honor, I resent this accusation.”

“Careful—both of you,” Fields said. “I won’t tolerate bickering. Ms. Reynolds, I’m sustaining the objection. Mr. Collins was retained as counsel within two days of the interview. I find that the privilege applies. As to the issue of Mr. Collins’s testimony, I will preclude you from calling him. The parties will agree to stipulate to the reading of the report regarding Mr. Collins’s interview when he was five years old.”

“Judge, I already said we will not stipulate.”

“That’s your choice, Ms. Reynolds,” Fields said. “But regardless of what you decide, Mr. Collins will not testify.”

Reynolds fumed. “In that case, the People ask for a stay so that we can take a writ to appeal your ludicrous ruling.”

Fields was outraged by her insolence, but he controlled himself, maintaining a calm demeanor. “Your request for a stay is denied.” He looked at the clock.

“Court’s in recess.”

A
s
the newly selected jury filed into the courtroom, Fitz thought about last week. After two and a half days of jury questioning, a jury of six women and six men was sworn. Reynolds told Fitz she was satisfied with the result. Fitz saw no pattern to Jordan’s peremptory challenges, but Sean assured Fitz that the lawyer knew what she was doing. Fitz was still very troubled about the case. He was certain that Babbage was lying, and was frustrated that all his efforts to delay charging Hart until the case was sufficiently investigated had failed.

For the first time in his career, Fitz felt uncomfortable sitting on the prosecution side of the counsel table. Logically, he told himself, he must work with facts, not emotions. Fitz cared deeply about Sean, and if Sean had determined that Daniel Hart was innocent, then damn it, that meant something.

Reynolds’s opening statement was first. She wore a just-above-the-knee linen skirt and matching jacket, with a silk blouse open at the neck, revealing the top of her lace bra. Smiling at the male jurors in the front row, she began, introducing herself as the representative of the People of the State of California. Then she became serious, looking intently at the jurors.

“On the fourth of July, nineteen years ago,” she began, “that man”—she pointed at Hart, who looked up at her, unblinking—“killed Sarah Collins, a twenty-two-year-old mother of two.”

Most of the jurors leaned forward, and the room was so quiet that Fitz could almost hear the jurors breathing. “You will hear the testimony of Jake Babbage, an eyewitness who saw the defendant put the point of a knife against Sarah Collins’s neck and draw blood. Who saw Sarah Collins forced to perform degrading sexual acts on the defendant. And who saw the terrible result of the defendant’s rage.

“You’ll hear from Deputy Medical Examiner Doctor Ethan Crowlich that Sarah Collins was stabbed more than fifty times. Stabbed all over her body. But the most chilling detail is that forty-seven of the stab wounds were not fatal … were less than an inch deep … occurred before Sarah’s death … and therefore caused her
excruciating
pain.” Reynolds looked at Hart and shook her head in disgust. Fitz looked at Sean. The color had drained from his face, and his hands grasped the edge of the table in front of him—he was visibly shaken.

“All this occurred while Jake Babbage was bound to a tree with duct tape, unable to move, unable to free himself, no matter how much he struggled. He will tell you that the defendant crept up behind him, knocked him out, and then bound him with duct tape. When he regained consciousness, he was forced to watch as his girlfriend was humiliated … forced to hear her screams. He passed out again. When he came to, the defendant was gone, but the horrible result was there for him to see. Sarah Collins dead. Mutilated by the defendant, Daniel Hart.”

Reynolds eyes filled. “This is a horrible case, and I’m sorry that you’ll have to endure seeing it and hearing about it.” Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head slowly. “The defendant tortured and killed Sarah Collins. He
must
be held accountable—justice demands it.”

In the dead silence of the courtroom, Reynolds walked back to the counsel table, sat down, and wiped a tear from her eye.

Fitz was impressed. He’d watched the jury as she spoke. Looking at their faces, he could see they were horrified. It was as if they had endured the torture, the outrage. Reynolds might be a bitch, he thought, but she had just demonstrated that she was a brilliant trial attorney.

Amanda Jordan rose slowly. She walked to a point directly in front of the jury and looked at them, solemnly. Several jurors looked back, arms folded. Two men in the back row avoided eye contact. “The evidence will show,” she said, “not only that Judge Daniel Hart is innocent of these charges but that the true murderer”—she paused, cast a scornful look at Reynolds, and then turned back to the jury—“is the very man who accuses him: Jake Babbage.”

Reynolds was on her feet in an instant. “Objection. Counsel knows she cannot argue during her opening statement!”

“Overruled,” Judge Fields said.

“Jake Babbage is a liar. A liar who waited nineteen years to accuse my client of the horrible crime he himself committed. The evidence will show that not one single shred of Jake Babbage’s
story
”—Jordan said the word as if it were a lethal poison—“nor any part of Babbage’s
claim,
can be verified or corroborated.

“The obvious question, the question that cries out for an answer is: why? And why now? The testimony at this trial will reveal the answer with clarity. You will find out, why Babbage—a rogue cop—accused my client, a respected and honored judge, of this vicious crime. I’m confident that you will agree, after hearing all the evidence, that the only possible conclusion is that Judge Daniel Hart is innocent of these charges.”

Jordan walked back to the counsel table and sat.

Fitz now understood why Sean had joined the defense team. Jordan was one hell of a lawyer and had done a masterful opening statement.

F
itzgerald was
to be the prosecution’s first witness. During her trial preparation, Reynolds had asked him detailed questions about his friendship with Sean. Now that Sean had switched to the defense, Reynolds wanted to use Fitz to pressure Sean. She said that she wanted Fitz’s testimony to flow smoothly and to show the defense that he believed in his case—very important because of Fitz’s relationship with Sean.

Fitz walked to the front of the witness stand and was sworn by the clerk. He sat in the witness box, then stated and spelled his name for the record. How many times had he testified during his career? One hundred? Five hundred? More? It was a blur. He was surprised to realize that he was actually nervous. He glanced down from the witness box at Sean, sitting next to Daniel Hart and Amanda Jordan. Sean looked back at him and nodded, as if to say, “Do what you must.” Hart was staring straight ahead, but Fitz could see that his eyes were moist and his shoulders rounded. He looked as if he would rather be any place other than here.

“Detective Fitzgerald,” Reynolds began, “what is your occupation and current assignment?”

“I’m a detective, employed by the Los Angeles Police Department and temporarily assigned to the Internal Affairs Division.”

“Was that also your occupation and assignment in July 1976?”

“No. At that time, I was a detective in the Robbery-Homicide Division.”

“Were you, at that time, assigned to investigate the death of Sarah Collins?”

“Yes, the case was assigned to me.”

“And going back to that period, on July fifth, were you called to a crime scene investigation at the Lake Hollywood Reservoir?”

“I was.”

“Would you describe for the jury what you observed when you arrived?”

He took a deep breath. So many times over the years he’d obsessed over this case. Now, instead of being happy something was being done, Fitz was caught between an ambitious prosecutor and the one person who mattered most to him.

Fitz looked at Reynolds. “The victim’s body was found early Monday morning, July fifth, by some hikers. It was roughly twenty feet from the water. The victim was naked, spread-eagled, and had numerous wounds resembling those created by stabbing. The wounds were in her chest and lower abdominal area. Judging by the volume of blood in the area of the body, it appeared that the body had not been moved from where injuries and death had occurred.” Fitz paused and glanced at Sean, who was scribbling notes on a yellow pad. Sean had assured Fitz that he could handle the details of his mother’s murder, but could he really?

In contrast, Hart’s eyes were on Fitz. Color drained from Hart’s face as Fitz described how Sarah’s body looked when detectives arrived. At one point, Hart dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief.

As Fitz continued his testimony, he wondered whether it was his imagination or if the courtroom was as unbearably hot and muggy for others. He began to perspire.

Reynolds took an eight-by-ten photograph from a manila envelope and showed it to Jordan, who studied the photograph carefully as if she had never seen it before. She passed the photo to Sean, who looked at it. Hart did not.

Anyone else probably would not have noticed, but Fitz did. Sean glanced at the photo, paled, and then quickly returned it to Jordan. Fitz marveled that Sean could look at all.
No matter how stoic he tries to be
, Fitz thought,
nobody could listen to a description or see the things that Sean was forced to see involving his mom and not be deeply affected
. Before Reynolds could say anything else, Jordan spoke. “Your Honor, may we approach at sidebar?”

“You may,” Fields responded.

Jordan, Sean, and Reynolds approached, along with the court reporter. Fitz watched as they gathered at the far side of the bench.

J
udge Fields accepted
the photo from Amanda Jordan without looking at it.

“Your Honor,” Jordan said, “counsel is attempting to introduce the crime scene photo of the decedent. This photo is highly prejudicial and will inflame the jury.”

“That’s nonsense,” Reynolds replied. “The photo is clearly relevant. We have a special allegation of torture-murder, and the jury needs to see these photos to see just how much the victim suffered and the extent of the injuries. It will serve to back up the coroner’s testimony.”

“But, Your Honor,” Jordan countered, “this picture is unduly gruesome. Counsel can get the coroner to describe the wounds and their effect. Showing this picture serves no purpose other than to bias and inflame the jury.”

Fields studied the color picture carefully. It was indeed gruesome. It showed a young woman’s naked body as it lay on its back on blood-soaked ground. Her head was at an unnatural angle, the lids half closed, but still showing clouded, lifeless pupils. Her mouth was opened as if she had died screaming in agony. Stab wounds were all over her torso. Her breasts, her abdomen, her genitals. Her legs were spread open unnaturally, looking as if the killer had positioned them after death. Blood was everywhere. Fields made up his mind. “I will sustain Ms. Jordan’s objection. I do find this picture unduly gruesome, and that its probative value is far outweighed by its prejudicial effect. The jury will not see the photo.”

“But, Judge,” Reynolds said, “this picture is important for the jury to see—”

Fields cut her off. “I’ve ruled, Ms. Reynolds. Please don’t argue further.”

Fields noticed that Reynolds continually referred to him as “Judge” rather than the more respectful “Your Honor.” This was consistent with what Fields had heard about her, that she did all she could to control the courtroom and the proceedings. Some lawyers couldn’t pull it off, would come across to the jury as wanting to win regardless of whether justice was served. But Reynolds knew how to walk the line, how to pressure the court to go her way. Fields would have to be vigilant and would have to make sure she never crossed the line. But he was already exhausted with her, and the case had only just begun.

He turned away, making it clear that argument was over and that it was time to continue the testimony. The three lawyers went back to their positions at the counsel table.

A
lthough he couldn’t hear
the sidebar, Fitz could see that the pictures were being discussed, and based upon Reynolds’s facial expressions, she was not happy with the court’s ruling. But that was her problem, not his.

Fitz continued his testimony. He was present when the coroner’s investigator arrived on the scene, and he had observed the investigator taking measurements and gathering fluid samples from the victim’s body. Fitz described his follow-up investigation the day after the homicide: the autopsy, the interview of Sean Collins at MacLaren Hall, and his interview of Sarah Collins’s neighbors.

“Were you able to get any descriptions that would help you in determining possible suspects, Detective?” Reynolds asked.

“None of the neighbors had any useful information. I interviewed the victim’s five-year-old son, but he was not able to provide me with any descriptions.”

“Exactly what did he tell you?” Reynolds said the words in an even tone, but her eyes bore down on him, seeming to say,
don’t fuck this up or else.

“He said that his mother had two friends he could remember. One was a babysitter he said was named ‘Chief’ and the other he described as the ‘snake man’ who lived at the zoo. He was unable to provide any other details.”

He checked the Griffith Park area. He found no homeless man living in the park, or in the area of the zoo. There were many who lived in the bed of the Los Angeles River and Fitz questioned them, but no one had any information. He did a search of field investigation cards prepared at or around the murder, looked for any possible suspects who might have a snake tattoo. He interviewed an elderly aunt who lived in Ohio. The father of the two children had been killed in Viet Nam. There were no other living relatives.

“In short,” Fitz said, “I hit a brick wall.”

“Did anything occur within the last six months that alerted you to suspects in this case, Detective?” Reynolds asked.

“Yes.”

“Please tell the jury what occurred.”

Fitz shifted in his chair. He’d rehearsed what he was about to say with Reynolds. She’d made it clear to him that he must be very careful in responding to questions, not to show any negative bias to Babbage. “If you destroy this case,” she had said, “I’ll destroy you.”

Fitz finally answered, “I became aware that a witness had given a statement that implicated Daniel Hart.”

“What were you told?” Reynolds asked.

“Objection,” Jordan said. “Hearsay.”

“Sustained,” said Judge Fields.

Reynolds asked Fitz, “Without telling us what occurred, did you do anything in response to the statement given?”

“I arrested Daniel Hart.”

“Do you see Daniel Hart in the courtroom?”

“We will stipulate to identity, Your Honor,” Jordan said.

“We will not,” Reynolds said flatly. “Please answer the question, Detective.”

“Yes, I can identify him.” Fitz knew that Reynolds was doing this for effect. Technically, a defendant had to be identified in open court. In cases involving lineups or eyewitnesses, the identification of the accused was critical. In cases such as this, defense attorneys usually stipulated. But Reynolds had told Fitz that Hart needed to be treated like any common criminal.

“Please indicate the defendant and describe what he is wearing,” Reynolds instructed.

Fitz pointed to Hart, who looked back. “That’s him, sitting at the counsel table, wearing a brown suit and tie.”

Reynolds stood. “May the record reflect that the witness has identified Daniel Hart as the defendant in this case?”

“The record will so reflect,” Judge Fields said.

Reynolds looked at Hart, then at the jury. “I have no further questions at this time of this witness.” She sat down.

“You may cross-examine, Ms. Jordan,” Fields said.

Jordan stood at the counsel table. “Detective Fitzgerald,” she asked, “did you search the area surrounding the crime scene for the victim’s clothing?”

“Yes, we looked for articles of clothing, or for that matter, anything that would help us identify the victim or the perpetrator.”

“How thorough was the search?”

Fitz took a breath and considered. “Our team consisted of eight patrol officers, two detectives, and a criminologist. I personally conducted the search. It included dragging the bottom of the reservoir, combing a radius of perhaps one hundred yards from the crime scene.”

“Was this made more difficult because of the surrounding vegetation?”

“It was, but we searched all paths through the brush and all nearby clearings, and examined the base of trees, bushes, and weeds.”

“What were you looking for?”

“Anything. Sometimes articles are thrown into a brush area; sometimes a victim is moved from an initial location.”

“So blood or blood on rocks or objects would be important?”

“Of course.”

“Other than the immediate area where the body was located, did you find any blood on the ground?”

“No.”

“On any rocks or trees?”

“No.”

Jordan paused and looked down at her notes, then looked up. “Detective, think back carefully. Did you find any duct tape?”

Fitzgerald hesitated, frowned. He looked through his case file. Finally he spoke. “No. None whatsoever.”

“One last area of inquiry,” Jordan said. “I note in your police report that you determined my client’s date of birth to be June 20, 1961, correct?”

Fitz reviewed his investigation folder, then nodded. “That’s correct.”

“So,” Jordan said, “with the murder having occurred on July 4, 1976, by my calculation, my client had turned fifteen just two weeks before, correct?”

“Apparently so, yes.” Fitz said.

“And your so-called chief witness, Jack Babbage, his date of birth was July 30, 1955, making him just sixteen days shy of being twenty-one years old at the time of the murder, correct?”

“Correct as well.”

“Detective Fitzgerald, doesn’t it seem odd to you that a twenty-one-year-old man would have been hanging out and socializing with a boy barely fifteen years old?”

“Objection, irrelevant,” Reynolds said.

“Overruled,” the judge said. “You may answer, Detective Fitzgerald.”

Fitz glanced at Reynolds before replying. She glared at him. She wasn’t going to much like his answer, he thought. Too bad. He took a deep breath. “Now that you mention it, yes. It does seem quite odd.”

“I have no further questions of this witness,” Amanda said.