Poison Candy: The Murderous Madam (18 page)

By this time, I was giggling.

COLBATH: Yes.

PARKER: Do you have an opinion about Mike Dippolito’s ability to understand what was going on with his probation situation back in 2009?

SALNICK: I’m gonna object to this probation situation. Again.

COLBATH: Sustained.

PARKER: I don’t have any further questions, Your Honor.

I also spoke with the elusive Erik Tal during my investigation, as well as his wife, Kerrian Brown, and I was there when investigators questioned them both on October 26, 2010. Like Mohamed Shihadeh, Tal was of Middle Eastern origin—in his case, Israeli—as well as the owner of a small convenience store in North Miami. Asim Brown (no relation) reached out to contacts in the North Miami Police Department and discovered that Erik had filed a stolen vehicle report for an All-Terrain Vehicle. I drove down with Eric Hutchinson, an investigator from the State Attorney’s Office, and detectives from North Miami Beach called Erik and told him they had recovered his ATV and needed him to identify it. When he arrived at the police station, they put him in a room and we basically ambushed him.

In the interview, Erik spoke with a marked accent that emphasized English as at least his second language. He was balding, dressed in a dark T-shirt and slacks, and he fidgeted throughout. He understandably seemed a little startled at first, but was willing to answer our questions despite being told he could leave at any time. For the most part, I sat quietly and took notes. Erik claimed he was familiar with Dalia’s case from the TV coverage, but only knew her through his wife.

ERIK: She’s a little bit like crazy . . . crazy like she is always hyper, or she’ll be your friend and then disappear for like two or three years.

But soon enough, his story began to drift. He only met Mike once, when he loaned him $20,000 in exchange for receiving a $20,000 profit. Mike offered Dalia’s ring and the title to his car to sweeten the deal, but Erik pulled out when the lawyer refused to execute a lien against Mike’s house. Except that he also received a $30,000 cashier’s check from Mike, which he cashed. And maybe $20,000 in cash that Mike gave him, which he returned. His wife paid Dalia back the $30,000 over time with gambling proceeds. He
also gave Mike a cashier’s check in the full amount of $191,000, but later he took it back. And asked the bank teller to lie and tell Mike the money was frozen, so Tal could get out of the deal. Any large amounts deposited in his account were cash his father sent him from Israel to invest in real estate properties. Maybe Dalia tried to take Mike’s money and is blaming other people. At any rate, for none of these transactions did Erik keep any receipts.

HUTCHINSON: That sounds reasonable to you?

ERIK: I mean, what receipt I gonna give him? I have no receipts. Like to write something?

HUTCHINSON: (after reiterating Erik’s position) . . . So, you didn’t have the dates—a journal, nothing you wrote down that shows that?

ERIK: I’m bad with writing. I’m bad with spelling—so even if I write, I wouldn’t understand it. That’s why I don’t write stuff.

At one point during his interview, Erik said, “You can ask my wife, too. She’s downstairs.” So when the interview was concluded, the investigator went downstairs to see if Kerrian Brown would consent to speak with us. I was left alone in the interrogation room with Erik, who asked me what was going on with the case. I ignored him and got on the phone with a detective to come escort me out of the room.

Kerrian arrived with a Gucci handbag almost as big as she was and wearing a silly print hat that on her looked charming. She is thirty-five, but looks much younger, the rigors of multiple childbirths showing nowhere on her delicate frame. She told us basically the same story Erik did about the money, in much less detail but with a good deal more consistency. About Mike, she said, “[H]e started looking like he wasn’t wound too tight.”

But from the start of the interview, it was clear there was more to the story than she wanted to tell us. She started to smile uncomfortably at times, like she was nervous, but not about herself. More like she knew a secret she had promised she wouldn’t tell.

HUTCHINSON: Just relax.

KERRIAN: No, I am relaxed. I’m just seeing where to start from. Me and her had a little break. We were friends, on and off for years, but we had a little break for about two months, and then I saw her on the TV. So there was a two-month break in there.

HUTCHINSON: What was the reason for the break?

KERRIAN: Oh, I don’t know. She started acting weird. And like I said, the relationship was on and off. She’d start to get on my nerves and get too clingy. It’s always something with female friends. You know, I’d give her a break and walk off. Too much drama or whatever.

Kerrian said Dalia constantly complained about Mike—he was abusive, obsessive, had a temper, kicked the dog—all of which seemed at odds with the nice house, beautiful engagement ring, and sumptuous lifestyle he lavished on her, as far as her friend could tell.

KERRIAN: She was saying she couldn’t leave him, and he knows people and stuff. The problem was, I had met him—not much, but a few times—and I didn’t see him the way she was saying to me. You understand? And like I said, I know her for years on and off—so, I know when she’s working me.

I could tell she was close to spilling, so I jumped in to see if I could knock her off point a couple of degrees.

PARKER: We know what she did for a living, if you’re talking about that. We know she was a female escort.

KERRIAN: She probably was, on and off—I don’t want to confirm or deny that.

PARKER: But that’s why you’re smirking.

HUTCHINSON: You’re like a politician.

KERRIAN: I don’t . . . gosh . . .

HUTCHINSON: You’re blushing.

KERRIAN: It’s a nightmare. I just thought I’d never see her there, but she never said to me—honestly, she didn’t say to me, for example, “I’m gonna try and kill him.” She never said that. With that being said [she giggles], she’s a complicated girl.

We both kept at her for several minutes, advising her to ease her conscience, since it was clear that’s what she wanted. Eventually, that did the trick.

PARKER: You know what? Just say it. I know you have things to do, places to go.

KERRIAN: You know, she did say to me one time, “Do you think there are any undetectable poisons?” She did say that to me. Honestly. And I said to her, “Are you kidding? Are you crazy? Don’t talk to me about stuff like that!” And it was shortly after that, that we . . . That was probably the most detrimental . . .

They talked once more about six weeks prior to Dalia’s arrest.

KERRIAN: I called her and she told me she was pregnant . . . she said, “Well, everything is okay,” but I knew it wasn’t. I could tell it wasn’t. Something was ticking there. Something wasn’t right, but I never called her again, and then I saw her on the news a couple of weeks later.

Neither of them testified at the trial. I didn’t put Erik Tal on the stand because I believed he was guilty of a crime, and if forced to testify, he would receive immunity for his crimes within the jurisdiction of Broward County. And once I decided not to use Dalia’s original murder attempt with the poisoned iced tea, Kerrian’s one big revelation was no longer relevant to the case.

Kerrian turned up again in March 2011 in the final stages of our investigation. Among those items discovered in Dalia’s safety deposit box was a receipt for the alleged wire transfer from the Cayman National Bank, which we knew to be false. It was faxed to a 305 number (Miami-Dade) printed on the top of the page, it was handwritten, the handwriting matched Dalia’s, and her phone records indicated she had contacted the bank in question five times in the forty-eight hours before the fax was sent. So I had my assistant, Lindsey Marcus, send an official fax from the State Attorney’s Office to the number of origin listed on the transfer, asking them to contact our office. I had a hunch it would be Kerrian Brown, purportedly Dalia’s best friend, and since we had met, I made a point of leaving my name off the fax. Whoever it was, if they called us back, then we’d know, and if they didn’t, then we’d know they had something to hide. Sure enough, within a day Kerrian called, asking what this was all about. We made something up in case we needed to call her as a witness if Dalia testified, and she was apparently none the wiser.

After lunch, back in cross-examination, Mike Dippolito and Michael Salnick started in bickering again like they’d never let up.

SALNICK: Mr. Dippolito, you told me yesterday the reason you didn’t file a lawsuit against Erik Tal, or you didn’t file a police report, was because you didn’t think Erik Tal stole the money, is that right?

MIKE: Didn’t say that either.

SALNICK: What did you say?

MIKE: I said my wife told me not to file a lawsuit.

SALNICK: Well, I don’t think you said your wife yesterday. I asked you if you filed a lawsuit, and you said you haven’t filed a lawsuit. Is that correct?

MIKE: Maybe that’s what I said, but I didn’t file one, and not for the reason you just stated.

On Mike’s stated reasons for his Vegas getaway:

SALNICK: I’m asking you something very simple: Did you say to the jury that it wasn’t really business, you just met him?

MIKE: I might have, but maybe you misunderstood the way I said it.

SALNICK: I misunderstood you?

MIKE: If you’re wording it the way I think you’re wording it, that doesn’t make any sense.

SALNICK: I’m not wording it at all. I’m just repeating the words that you used.

MIKE: Well, maybe we misunderstand each other.

And about his restitution:

SALNICK: Were you concerned about the money?

MIKE: Yes. I told you that yesterday.

SALNICK: You were concerned about your money, the source of your money?

MIKE: No, I didn’t want to have to go through fifty hoops just to get off probation when I had the money to pay it.

SALNICK: That’s not what I’m asking.

MIKE: Isn’t that an answer?

SALNICK: Well, it’s an answer, but not to this question.

This culminated in a discussion of the CityPlace incident. Salnick had seized on a line Mike used in direct—“A weird guy was staring at us the whole time”—that he used to describe their experience at Starbucks before they returned to the parking garage.

SALNICK: And what’s significant about a weird guy staring at you in Starbucks?

MIKE: I just found it odd. We both looked at each other and the guy wouldn’t stop looking at us, and I didn’t know what it was about. It was just very strange. That was the only reason I said it.

SALNICK: Can you describe him?

MIKE: I think he was wearing like a button-up shirt, maybe a . . . See, I’m thinking like he’s the guy I see there all the time. He
is
a police officer, but I’m not 100 percent sure. He walks around, it seems like it’s his patrol, he’s always smoking a cigar. He’s almost bald. I see him now often, and I’m pretty sure it’s him. But like I said—honestly?—I don’t know. It just happened. If there’s a connection to whatever, I don’t know. But that’s how that started.

SALNICK: First you said it was a weird guy. Now you say it was a weird guy who might be a police officer. Are you just guessing?

MIKE: I don’t know if it’s him exactly or not. I’m just trying to tell you the story the best I can.

SALNICK: When you say it’s a weird guy, that implies one thing.

MIKE: He was weird because he wouldn’t stop looking over at us, you know? If you were staring at me, I’d think you were a weird guy.

Salnick snaps his head up with his eyes wide open. He looks like an owl.

SALNICK: Okay. Well, I’m staring at you now, so am I weird?

MIKE: No, you’re like a parrot.

SALNICK: A parrot?

MIKE: Yeah.

SALNICK: What does that mean? I’ve been called a lot of things. What’s a parrot?

MIKE: You know. Come on.

People were starting to giggle, including some at the prosecution table.

SALNICK: You’re winking at the Judge. He doesn’t know what you mean. What do you mean?

MIKE: “Did you do that on probation? Were you on probation? Did you do that on probation? Were you on probation?” You know what I’m talking about. I’m just having fun with you. Come on.

By now the entire courtroom was cracking up.

SALNICK: You’re having fun with me? Well, let me ask you something: Is this fun, Mr. Dippolito?

MIKE: This sucks.

SALNICK: Okay. Was it fun when you got arrested?

MIKE: No.

SALNICK: Was it fun when you went through court?

MIKE: Horrible.

SALNICK: Okay. So is there anything funny at all about this proceeding, Mr. Dippolito?

MIKE: The questions you’re asking me, some of them, yeah.

SALNICK: You don’t like them, do you?

MIKE: It’s ridiculous. We’re not here because of me. You might as well put me up next. I mean, what are we doing here?

In the final hour of the two days he kept Mike on the stand, Salnick finally broached the subject of reality television, the putative linchpin of his defense strategy. He got Mike to admit that he liked
American Chopper
(which Salnick tried to call
American Family
),
Cheaters
(which Mike claimed was Dalia’s show), and especially
Jersey Shore
(even though it first aired in December 2009, four months after Dalia had been arrested), and that “it’s crazy how these people are making money.” Under continued
prodding, Mike also admitted to being a YouTube fan, but it didn’t seem like this was something he was especially trying to hide. Salnick tried to resurrect the subject of Mike’s appearances on
The Today Show
, but my objection that this line of questioning had been asked and answered was sustained. Finally out of ammunition, Salnick stared up at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought, and then delivered what seemed like his coup de grace: