Tragic (46 page)

“Is that similar to the one taken from you the night of the murder?”

“It’s close.”

“Close in size and design?”

“Yeah. Like I told you, it’s close.”

Karp nodded and then tore out the page with the photograph from the magazine. “Your Honor, I’d like to hand the witness this page from the
Dock
magazine with a copy of the photograph in question for demonstration purposes.”

“You may, please proceed.”

Turning back to the witness stand, Karp handed the page to Vitteli. “Would you demonstrate how this photograph was folded in order to fit into your wallet?”

“I don’t see the point of this crap,” Vitteli complained.

The more agitated Vitteli became, the more restrained Karp appeared. “Just show us, please, how you folded the photograph so that it fit into your wallet, which was stolen by the killers, one of whom—according to your testimony—Frank DiMarzo, then removed and kept it in his Bible,” Karp insisted.

Vitteli glanced over at the jurors, the last of whom finished looking at the photograph in evidence and handed it back to the jury foreman. They were all looking at him intently. “I don’t remember how it was folded,” he said.

Walking over to the jury foreman, Karp retrieved the exhibit photograph. “Well, let’s start by folding it once and then tell us if that is what you did?”

Looking at the page he held in his hand like it was a poisonous snake, Vitteli folded it in half. He shook his head. “No. It had to be smaller.”

“Then go ahead and fold it in half again,” Karp replied. “And tell us if it fits.”

Again, Vitteli did as he was told. He started to place it in his wallet, but it was obviously still too large. “No. Maybe one more time.”

“Go ahead,” Karp encouraged. “A third time, please.”

Vitteli folded the page again. This time he opened the wallet and stuck it in. “Like this,” he said.

“Okay. The jury can see that there’s quite a bit of the photograph sticking out of the wallet,” Karp said. “But that’s how you contend you stuck it in your back pants pocket until you took it out and handed it to Mr. Carlotta’s killers, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” Vitteli said. “I wasn’t real careful. It was just a photo to break the ice with Vince.”

Karp glanced down at the photograph in his hand. “I’m looking at People’s Exhibit Twenty-Eight, the photograph in evidence, and it doesn’t appear that any of the edges of the page are folded or torn as might be expected if it was inserted into your wallet and pants pocket as you contend. Can you explain that?”

Vitteli shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I folded it again,” he said. “I don’t remember.”

“Well, why don’t you fold the demonstration photograph one more time and see how that fits?”

Vitteli glowered for a moment at Karp but then did what he was told. He held up the wallet. “Yeah, I must have folded it again,” he said.

“Four times?” Karp asked.

“Three or four times.”

Stepping forward, Karp handed the evidentiary photograph up to Vitteli. “Would you look at it, please, and then tell the jury how many times it’s been folded?”

Vitteli reached forward and grabbed the plastic sleeve containing the photograph from Karp, his eyes boring into his antagonist until finally looking down at what he held. His hands began to shake as his face turned red. He reached for the cup of water but gave up as his hands weren’t steady enough to hold it.

“Mr. Vitteli? Your answer please,” Karp asked mildly.

The courtroom was absolutely still, waiting for an answer that Vitteli refused to give. “You tricked me,” he snarled instead, “you son of a bitch.”

Unmoved, Karp turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I’d request that the witness answer my question.”

Judge See leaned across his desk toward Vitteli. “Just answer the question, please.”

Vitteli’s eyes, filled with hate, flicked from Karp to the judge to Karp again. “Once, it’s been folded once,” he said venomously and tossed the photograph in the direction of Karp, who calmly leaned over and picked it up.

“So you were lying when you told this jury that the photograph was in your wallet that was taken by the killers?” Karp said.

“Maybe it wasn’t in my wallet,” Vitteli retorted. “Maybe it was just in my coat pocket. I don’t remember. I’d been drinking.”

“Well, do you remember reaching into your coat pocket and handing the gunman this photograph, Mr. Vitteli?”

Vitteli crossed his arms. “I told you what happened, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Vitteli,” Karp shot back. “You’ve said plenty.”

Karp turned toward the prosecution table, and it appeared he was through questioning Vitteli, but then he pulled up as if he remembered one last thing. “Oh, by the way, whatever happened to that handkerchief you’re holding in your hand in that newspaper photograph?”

Vitteli furrowed his brow. “It was ruined, covered with blood. Joey threw it away for me.”

“Do you know where he threw it?”

“Yeah, in a barrel by the alley that the bums use for fires.”

“Do you know what happened to it from there?”

Vitteli’s sneer disappeared, replaced by confusion. “I assume it got burned up.”

Karp regarded his quarry for a moment, then smiled. “No further questions.”

T
HE FINAL SCENE IN THE
last act of the
people of the State of New York vs. Charles E. Vitteli
began with Judge See turning to Karp, who sat at the prosecution table having just listened to Kowalski’s closing arguments. “Mr. Karp, would you care to deliver your summation at this time?” the judge asked.

“Yes, thank you, Your Honor,” Karp replied as he rose and walked out in front of the jury. “As the district attorney in charge of presenting the evidence in this case on behalf of the People, the law gives me the opportunity to deliver a summation. At the outset, I’d first like to thank all of you for the patient and courteous attention you showed throughout this trial.”

Looking from one juror to the next, he continued. “When all is said and done, what you have just witnessed from the People was a solemn and sacred search for the truth. And during my summation, I ask you to permit me to be your guide in this search. Given the drama and the passion you’ve observed over the course of this trial, after you’ve rendered your verdict of guilty and leave this courtroom to resume your everyday activities, you’ll be asked by family, loved ones, friends, and business associates what caused you to vote guilty. And so to answer that question with precision and righteousness, let us count the ways we know that the defendant
in this case is guilty not beyond a reasonable doubt but beyond any and all doubt.”

Karp then launched into an hour and a half of unrelenting evidentiary analysis, devoid of any speculation or unfounded inferences, which he noted had characterized the defense summation, before looking over at Vitteli. The defendant sat with his head down, staring at the table in front of him, reminding Karp of his adversary’s expressions of diminishing hopes when, after the defense rested its case, he’d announced that he would be calling three rebuttal witnesses. With each witness, Vitteli increasingly had taken on the look of a hunted man with nowhere to turn.

The first witness was Bill Clark, the supervisor of Martin Bryant at the U.S. Department of Labor, who testified about the department’s protocol for dealing with complaints. “Which apparently were ignored in regard to Mr. Carlotta, and—if it ever occurred—Mr. Vitteli,” Clark said. “Nor was I ever verbally informed about the alleged complaints, as is required.” He wrapped up his testimony by stating that Bryant was under investigation for engaging in corrupt practices and had been suspended from the department. He then turned over department telephone logs that indicated nearly a dozen telephone calls were made between Bryant’s office and Vitteli’s beginning a month prior to Carlotta’s murder and continuing up to Vitteli’s arrest. The best Kowalski could do on cross was get Clark to concede that it was possible that Bryant had simply not followed department rules.

The second rebuttal witness was Jack Swanburg, who took the stand to testify regarding DNA and blood-testing conducted on a silk handkerchief sent to him by Detective Clay Fulton. He told the jury that the blood on the handkerchief “to an absolute scientific certainty” belonged to the deceased, Vince Carlotta, and that DNA testing also revealed the presence of skin cells and several hairs belonging to Charles Vitteli and even a few skin cells belonging to Joey Barros.

“There was also a minor amount of soot, as would be explained
by the circumstances in which it’s my understanding the item was found—that is, a fifty-gallon barrel used to contain fires,” Swanburg testified. “However, the soot was only on one side and only on a few contact points, which indicates to me that it was only in the barrel for a short time and had not been disturbed prior to its being retrieved.”

As if there was any doubt about who the handkerchief had belonged to, Karp asked the scientist if it was monogrammed. “Yes.” The old man nodded. “With the letters ‘C.E.V.’ ”

With each rebuttal witness, Vitteli seemed to sink farther into his seat. But Karp had saved the best for last and was pleased to watch the defendant’s face when he called Anne Devulder to the stand. It had taken Vitteli a moment to recognize the name and put it together, seeing the nicely dressed woman standing in the doorway leading to the prosecution witness room. Then the color drained from his face as he leaned over and spoke urgently to his attorney.

“Your Honor, we object to this woman’s testimony,” Kowalski complained. “We have no idea what she’s going to say, and it’s obvious the prosecution has been sandbagging so that we’d have no opportunity to question her, or review her possible testimony, in order to prepare.”

Karp listened to Kowalski and then turned to the judge. “Your Honor, may we approach the bench?”

“By all means, Mr. Karp,” Judge See had said, looking somewhat bemused.

When they’d assembled at the sidebar, Karp explained the circumstances and chronology of Devulder’s appearance as a witness. “She did not come forward until the last witness for the People’s case was on the stand. However, we needed to await testing to be conducted on the handkerchief, in order to corroborate her potential testimony. If we had tried to ‘spring’ her on the defense during the People’s case in chief, they might have an argument to at least delay the proceedings until they could examine her statements
to Mr. Guma. However, her testimony now is completely appropriate in rebuttal.”

“I agree that the witness’s appearance is proper rebuttal, particularly given the defendant’s testimony, and I’ll allow it,” Judge See determined. “Your objection is overruled.”

When Kowalski returned to his seat, he broke the news to Vitteli, who slammed his fist on the table and glared at Anne Devulder as she approached the gate between the gallery and the well of the court. However, instead of cowing her, his obvious displeasure seemed to galvanize Devulder. She met his glare with her own as she picked up her head and straightened her shoulders as she walked between the defense and prosecution tables toward the witness stand.

Karp smiled as she was sworn in. He’d seen an amazing transformation from a street person in tattered rags and weeks’ worth of filth on her weary face to an attractive middle-aged woman with short, bobbed hair and wearing a dress. The transformation wasn’t just external—Marlene informed him that Devulder had quit drinking after the Carlotta murder and was attending AA meetings at the East Village Women’s Shelter—nor was she alone in her quest to change her life. As she stepped up into the witness stand and settled in a chair, Devulder glanced out to the gallery where her two friends, Rosie and Cindy, cleaned up and smiling encouragement, were seated.

“How do you know Charlie Vitteli?” Karp asked early in the questioning.

“My husband, Sean, belonged to the North American Brotherhood of Stevedores.”

“And was Sean killed in an accident on the docks?”

Devulder looked at Vitteli when she replied. “It wasn’t no accident,” she said. “But yes, he was killed when the crane he was operating collapsed.”

“Is it fair to say that you blame Charlie Vitteli for Sean’s death?”

“My Sean told him that the new cranes weren’t safe in high
winds. Charlie was the president. It was his job to keep the men safe.”

“Do you feel differently toward Vince Carlotta?”

“Yes, everybody did—except maybe some of the old crowd who keep their jobs by kowtowing to Vitteli. But we knew, the men that is, that Vince worked for them. If he’d been president, he would have looked into the crane operators’ complaints and shut those cranes down if there was a problem. In fact, I think he blamed himself for not being more forceful about investigating the complaints before the accident.”

“So we’ve established that you blame Charlie Vitteli for your husband’s death but you and your husband liked Vince Carlotta and felt he worked for the union membership?”

“Yes, that’s fair to say.”

“However, you’ve sworn to tell the truth here today, regardless of your feelings for either man, correct?”

Devulder’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been called many things, Mr. Karp, but a liar isn’t one of them.”

Having taken one of the defense’s possible points of attack away, Karp had moved on to the essence of Devulder’s testimony. “Did you see Charlie Vitteli in Hell’s Kitchen near Marlon’s Restaurant prior to the night when Vince Carlotta was murdered?”

“Yes,” Devulder said. “Me and my two friends, Rosie and Cindy, were hanging out near the alley, trying to stay warm with a barrel fire.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“Oh yes.”

“And did he know you?”

“Not at first. I had to remind him that I was Sean’s wife. Then he knew who I was.”

“Did the two of you exchange words?”

“Yeah, things got a little heated,” Devulder recalled. “I called him King Vitteli. He didn’t like that and told me to get the hell out of his way. When I told him I was Sean’s widow, he said he
was sorry for my loss and tried to give me twenty bucks. I wouldn’t take it. I said I didn’t want his blood money, but my friend Cindy grabbed it from him.”