PART 35 (69 page)

“You fight to get the guy off, that's the difference. You want the jury to go all the way with you.”

“Can I do a half-ass job, with hounds like you and Ellis on my back? Are you doing half a job trying to convict the man of murder?”

“No, the guy is guilty.”

“That's where you make your mistake, Detective. You think you're in a moral court, to punish for evil. You're not. I don't know if the man is guilty, nor does anyone else. And I'm talking about legal, not moral guilt. And the jury has to make that determination, not you, and not me. Don't you realize I'm as much a representative of the people as the D.A.?”

“Hey, Counselor, what are you giving me now, a flaming liberal snow job?”

“No, a little lesson in the law. In the adversary system, the D.A. brings in everything he can against the defendant. Defense counsel brings in everything he can in favor of the defendant. And when both lawyers are finished, it's up to the jury. Whatever the jury says—guilty, not guilty, murder, manslaughter—that's it. Not morally, but according to what we poor, dumb men have written into books. It's the best system we have. It may not be infallible in your eyes, but it's the best we've got.”

“When it lets guilty crumbs out into the streets, it stinks.”

“You know something, Mullaly. You're thickheaded. I'll go in and fight whether you think a man is guilty or not. My job is to make the D.A. go through his paces and prove what the law says he must. If he doesn't, he doesn't deserve to win his case. And don't worry about it. If there's a God in heaven, as I'm sure there must be somewhere, he really doesn't need your help. He'll give out perfect punishment someday, to everybody for everything.”

Mullaly's face cooled with a smug smile. “You guys are really something.”

“Oh, by the way, Detective Mullaly, talking about that conscience that wouldn't let you sleep—does it keep you up much when you go around screwing the wives of defendants?”

Mullaly's face uncurled its smile as he stared blankly after Sandro.

CHAPTER XXXV

Thursday, April 25th, 1968

“Sam,” Sandro said, walking into court excitedly. “You won't believe the phone call I just got from Siakos in the office.”

“What was it?” Sam was unpacking his briefcase.

“Josefina Ramirez, the woman the guy ran past on the stairs?”

“What about her?”

“She called Siakos up. She wants to come back to court to testify.”

“Let her tell it to Ellis. What's she going to do this time—identify Alvarado?”

“No, she says she wants to testify for us.”

“What?” Sam stared at him. “What's she want to testify to.”

“Alvarado was not the guy.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Not about something like that.”

“Ellis'll go nuts. Where is she?”

“Siakos is bringing her here.”

Sandro called Josefina Ramirez to the stand. Ellis turned his head quickly. His face grew stern when he saw Mrs. Ramirez enter the courtroom.

She took the stand and was informed through the interpreter that she was still under oath.

“Mrs. Ramirez,” Sandro started. “Did you call Mr. Siakos and talk to him in Spanish?”

“Yes.”

“And is that why you have returned to court today?”

“Yes.”

“Now, on July third, 1967, the day the policeman was killed, did you tell the police that the man you saw on the stairs was dressed in a gray suit?”

“Yes.”

“Pants and jacket matched?”

“Yes.”

“Your Honor,” said Ellis, rising. “This is repetitious.”

“I am going into new matter, Your Honor. I just wanted to pick up the train of thought,” said Sandro.

“Proceed.”

“Did the police tell you the man was wearing a yellow jacket?”

“I didn't tell them that.”

“But did they tell you that the man from the roof was not wearing a gray suit?”

“They told me he was wearing a different color.”

“How did they tell you the man was dressed?”

“I think it was yellow pants. No—yellow jacket and black pants. But he was not dressed like that.”

“Did you see the defendant Alvarado in the station house on the early morning of July fourth?”

“Yes, the police brought me there, and I told them that I did not recognize that man.”

“Your Honor, may I have the defendant Alvarado come closer to the witness?” Sandro asked.

“You may.”

Alvarado rose, and the guard accompanied him toward the witness stand. He stood directly before Mrs. Ramirez.

“Mrs. Ramirez, look at this man. Is this the man you saw on the stairway on July third?”

“No, sir. That's not the man I saw running. No.”

The jurors were looking at one another. A whisper swept through the spectators.

“Any further questions of this witness?” the judge asked.

“No, Your Honor.”

“Any questions, Mr. Ellis?”

“Your Honor, in view of the unusual aspect of this last witness's appearance here this morning, I'd like a recess for a short while.”

“Your application is granted,” said the judge. “Members of the jury, we'll have a recess at this time. Do not discuss the case.”

The jury filed out. Ellis had not waited for them to leave. He had already left the courtroom, his face etched with anger.

The recess ended, Ellis, cold and as hard as steel, faced Mrs. Ramirez.

“Mrs. Ramirez, when you appeared here before at this trial, did you not testify that you did not get a good look at the man on the stairs?” Ellis asked.

“Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Ellis is trying to impeach his own witness,” said Sam. “Mrs. Ramirez is still the prosecution's witness.”

“Not anymore,” Ellis said.

“Overruled.”

“That's true. I cannot tell you exactly what the man looked like, but this is not the man. No. No,” insisted Mrs. Ramirez.

“Did you not describe the man you saw to the court, the last time, as a colored man with pushed-back hair?”

“He's not colored!” she said, pointing to Alvarado.

Ellis looked around at Alvarado. He studied him. The Negro guard behind Alvarado, whose skin was lighter than Alvarado's, was leaning forward to get a better look.

“You say the defendant Alvarado is not colored?” Ellis wondered. “How would you describe him?”

“He's white, like I am,” said Mrs. Ramirez.

Ellis stared blankly at Mrs. Ramirez, his mind totally stalled. Mrs. Ramirez was white. Alvarado was almost black.

“Are you now telling this court and jury that the defendant Alvarado is not the man you saw, even though you don't know what the man looked like?” Ellis asked, starting forward again.

“This man is Puerto Rican. The other man on the stairs was colored. The other man had the ‘bad' hair. I can't tell what the colored man looked like, but this cannot be that man.”

“Did the lawyers for Alvarado call you after you were in court the last time?”

“No, I called. I wanted to be sure my conscience would not bother me. I may not have said the things right. These people should know,” she said, pointing to the jury.

“You were at the station house the night of the shooting, weren't you?”

“Yes.”

“And didn't you see the defendant Alvarado there at that time?”

“Yes. The police showed him to me through a glass.”

“Do you remember there were other women in the station house at that time?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“And do you remember a woman there named Carmen Salerno, a short, young woman?” Ellis asked.

“I don't know the name. I don't know,” Mrs. Ramirez replied, shrugging.

“As a matter of fact, when you saw this defendant Alvarado in the station house the morning of July fourth, did you not tell one of those women at the station house that you recognized Alvarado as the man you saw running down the steps, but you wouldn't tell the police that?”

“No, sir, I never said that to anyone.”

Sam whispered, “You can bet your ass he's got Mrs. Salerno ready to swear up and down to that.”

“Ellis must have had one of the detectives go and get her during the recess.”

“Do you remember coming into my office about a month ago, Mrs. Ramirez?” Ellis continued.

“Yes.”

“And I showed you a picture of Alvarado?”

“Yes. You showed me a picture of this gentleman,” the interpreter translated.

“And did I ask you if you could recognize that man as the man who ran past you on the stairway on July third?”

“No, that is not the man,” she replied.

“I move that the answer be stricken as not responsive.”

“Strike it out,” the judge ordered.

“Ellis is going deeper and deeper into the hole,” Sandro whispered, watching intently.

“And did you not at the time tell me that you did not see the man well enough to recognize him?” Ellis asked.

“I couldn't tell from the photograph. But seeing the man now, in person, I know he is not the man!”

“I move that that answer be stricken as not responsive. I ask Your Honor to instruct the witness to answer the questions asked.”

“Yes. Please tell Mrs. Ramirez to answer only the questions asked,” the judge told the interpreter. She complied.

“Did you not say in my office that you didn't know what the man who ran past you looked like?” Ellis pressed.

“It is true. I cannot say what the man looked like, but I can say that this could not be the man.”

“Did you say that in my office?”

“Yes. I said that the man in the photograph does not look like the man.”

“After you testified the last time, did anyone, a friend or relative of the defendants, speak to you concerning this case?”

“No, no. I talked only to my conscience.”

“No further questions,” Ellis said with control. His anger was strangling him.

“Anything further, gentlemen?” the judge asked Sam and Sandro.

“No, if Your Honor please. The defendant Alvarado rests.”

“Do you have anything further, Mr. Ellis?”

“Yes, Your Honor, the people recall Mrs. Carmen Salerno.”

Mrs. Salerno came into the courtroom, her face as unemotional as ever. She took the witness stand and was advised that she was still under oath.

“Mrs. Salerno, do you remember being in the station house of the Seventh Precinct on the morning of July fourth, 1967?”

“Yeah.”

“And when you were in the precinct, where were you?”

“Upstairs,” she answered.

“Is that the detectives' room, the squad room?”

“That's right.”

“And were you standing or seated?”

“Sitting down.”

“Did you see the defendant Alvarado?”

“When I walked in, I seen him.”

“Where was he?” Ellis asked.

“He was sitting in a chair in the room there.”

“Did there come a time when someone else came in and sat down near you?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Salerno replied. “A woman came in.”

“Do you know that woman's name?”

“Ramirez, Josefina Ramirez.”

“Where was she sitting?”

“Right next to me.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Objection.”

“Overruled. You may answer, Mrs. Salerno,” the judge instructed.

“She told me in Spanish that that was the guy that she saw, but she wasn't going to say anything because she was afraid,” Mrs. Salerno testified.

“Did you thereafter look at the defendant Alvarado through a mirror?”

“Yes.”

“And did Mrs. Ramirez look through that same mirror?”

“She was standing right next to me.”

“And did she say anything to the police at that time?” Ellis asked.

“She told them she wasn't sure if it was the man.”

“Did you, some weeks ago, come to my office with a policeman?”

“Yes.”

“And was anyone else with you?”

“Yeah. Detective Mullaly brought Mrs. Ramirez and me in his car down here together.”

“You were in the room with Mrs. Ramirez when I spoke to her?” Ellis asked.

“Yes.”

“And did she say at any time, after looking at a photograph of the defendant Alvarado, that he was not the man on the stairs?”

“No.”

“I have no further questions.” Ellis returned to his chair.

Sandro rose slowly and walked to the jury box.

“Mrs. Salerno, when you were in the station house the early morning of July fourth, you spoke to the district attorney there, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“And you told him certain things, didn't you?”

“That's right.”

“And at that time, you didn't want to get involved, did you?”

“That's right.” She was snapping her answers, curt and fast.

“And although you didn't want to get involved, you described an entire incident, didn't you?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“You told the D.A. what the man allegedly wore, didn't you?” Sandro asked.

“Yeah.”

“And what he did, how he moved?”

“Yeah.”

“And you told him that you didn't see the man's face well?”

“That's right. I lied,” Mrs. Salerno said spitefully.

“And you lied to the police too, didn't you?”

“That's right.”

“You also told them you didn't see the man's face?”

“That's right.”

“And you lied to me, too, didn't you?”

“I didn't have to say nothing to you, did I?”

“Mrs. Salerno, when I'm on the witness chair, and you're down here, I'll answer your questions. Would you mind answering my questions now.”