Trap (9781476793177) (29 page)

“Did she ever give you her opinion about union president Thomas Monroe?”

“For a variety of reasons, she believed that he was corrupt.”

“Your honor,” Mendelbaum interrupted, “I haven't objected to Mrs. Sobelman's testimony comprising hearsay statements because it hasn't concerned my client, but enough is enough.”

“Mr. Karp,” Rainsford directed, “please make your point and move on.”

“I'll move on,” Karp said. “Early in the evening on the night of the book signing at your bakery, Il Buon Pane, were you aware that neo-Nazis were gathering across the street?”

“Yes, my husband pointed them out,” the interpreter said for Goldie. “He was concerned about the safety of our guests and wondered if we should cancel the event. But I told him, as he once told me, that if we let them dictate how we lived our lives, then they have won and we might as well throw in the towel.”

Karp led Goldie quickly through the bombing and the scene at the hospital. When they reached the death of Rose Lubinsky, he waited a few minutes as she cried quietly until she could pull herself together.

“I'm sorry to put you through this,” he said.

Goldie smiled. “I'm sorry it happened. But life goes on. Please ask me your next question.”

“Would you tell us about the events of the next day concerning your encounter with Lars Forsling?” Karp said.

Goldie nodded and signed, “My husband had gone upstairs for his afternoon nap. Your sons, Zak and Giancarlo, were helping me clean up around the store when that young man accosted us with the gun. He said we had to leave with him.”

“Were you able to leave some sort of signal for your husband that something wasn't right?”

Goldie nodded and held up her left hand before signing to the interpreter. “Yes, when the young man wasn't looking, I took off my wedding band and left it on the counter for Moishe to find.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I had two reasons. If something happened to me, I wanted him to have it. But I was also letting him know that I was in trouble; he knows I have not taken it off since the day he put it on my finger.”

“What happened after you left the bakery with Mr. Forsling?”

“He demanded that we drive to East Harlem.”

“Did he say what this was about?”

“Yes, he was very angry. He said that his mother had died in a fire because he wasn't home to help her. He said he'd been kept in jail for something that wasn't his fault.”

“Did he say anyone else was responsible for his mother's death?”

“Yes, he blamed you. He said that you were using him as a scapegoat for the bomb that killed my friend and those two other poor girls.”

“Did you ask him if he killed your friend?”

Goldie nodded. “Yes. He said that you thought he did it because he was a Nazi and doesn't like Jews. So I asked him, ‘Did you kill my friend?' ”

“And what was his answer?”

“He said he was just there to protest. But he said you wouldn't listen and put him in jail.”

“Did he say what he planned to do with you and the boys?”

“Not exactly. I thought he might be taking us as hostages so that he could force the media to listen to him. But I was also worried—not for myself, I'm an old woman, but the boys—that he wanted revenge and might harm us.”

“As best you can recall, where did he take you?”

“He took us to a building in East Harlem. It was under construction but he had the keys to the gate and to a side door.”

“What happened there?”

“He made us walk up the stairs, but I only got part way before I fainted. Then one of the boys carried me. Afterward I learned that it was Zak, your son.”

“Did he say anything more about the bombing during the time he held you hostage on the top floor of this building?”

“Only that you blamed him for it and that was why his mother was dead.”

Leading her through the events that followed up until Forsling was shot by Marlene, Karp reached the point of Forsling's “dying declaration” that he was responsible for the bombing.

“Did you believe he was telling the truth?”

“Objection,” Mendelbaum said, rising to his feet. “With all due respect, the witness is not a mind reader and shouldn't be allowed to offer an opinion on whether the defendant was telling the truth or not.”

“Your honor,” Karp responded, “this goes back to an earlier argument on this matter. The defense intends to use Forsling's ‘dying dec' in an attempt to say that is the truth, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. Mrs. Sobelman was present at this man's death; she'd talked to him previously about this and heard statements from him that were contradictory to this one. I believe she is entitled to give her opinion as to its trustworthiness.”

“Overruled, the witness may answer the question but let's keep it to the issue of trustworthiness.”

Karp nodded to Goldie, who signed, “I don't think he was telling the truth. I think he was angry at you and wanted to get even. Maybe he wanted the notoriety as well . . .”

“Objection, your honor,” Mendelbaum called out again. “Now she's speculating on the reasons she believes his statement was false. Again, she's playing mind reader.”

“Sustained. I think this is enough of that, Mr. Karp.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Karp responded. “No further questions.”

MENDELBAUM TRADED PLACES
in front of the jury with Karp. “I'm sorry for the loss of your friend,” he said. “And I apologize if any of this is hard on you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mendelbaum. And I understand you have a job to do, too.”

“I appreciate that,” Mendelbaum replied. “Now, Mrs. Sobelman, you've testified that Mr. Forsling was angry at Mr. Karp for accusing him of planting the bomb. But did he ever actually deny planting or detonating the bomb?”

“No, not in so many words. But he said he was just there to protest.”

“So prior to being shot, he never said anything like, ‘I did not plant the bomb.' Did he?”

“No, he did not say those words.”

“But as he lay dying on the floor of the loft, he said, ‘It was my bomb that blew up the car. I killed the Jew bitch.' ”

“Yes, he said that.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Sobelman,” Mendelbaum said. “Your honor, no more questions for this witness.”

W
AITING PATIENTLY AS THE SMALL,
mousy black woman on the stand dabbed at the tears in her eyes, Karp reminded himself about what his one-time mentor Mel Glass told him when he first arrived at the New York DAO fresh out of law school at the University of California–Berkeley.
In a nutshell, to reconcile the difficult issues you'll have to resolve, and some will be tougher than others, our job is to search for truth and do justice. Wherever the facts and legally admissible evidence leads—whether to the guilt of the accused or to his exoneration—apply your sense of moral clarity to each and every case.

Watching Goldie Sobelman cry on the stand when he asked her about the death of her friend was one of those “tougher aspects.” And now yet another woman had been reduced to tears by the questions he needed to ask in that search for the truth. Only this time the tears were tears of shame, remorse, and of a mother whose little boy had grown up to be a homicidal monster.

The witness, Alethea Burns, had first appeared in the reception room of the New York District Attorney's Office the day after Monroe's arrest. Karp had just opened the door of his inner office to give some papers to his receptionist when he caught the conversation she was having with Mrs. Milquetost. Or debate was closer to it as neither woman noticed him walk into the room and neither was giving in.

“Mr. Karp is a very busy man,” Milquetost was saying in her best I'm-in-charge-here voice. “You can leave that and I'll give you a piece of paper to write a message on. I'll see to it that he gets it, but you can't just barge in on him.”

The “that” Mrs. Milquetost was referring to appeared to be a laptop computer clutched in the hands of a light-skinned black woman in a tattered green wool coat and purple yarn cap. “No, I have to give it to him myself,” the woman insisted. “I have to tell him something first. Let him know, please, that it has to do with my son, Yusef, and what happened last night in Brooklyn. Please, it's important.”

At the mention of “Yusef” and “Brooklyn,” Karp's radar had snapped into high alert. Under questioning, union president Monroe denied knowing the bomber's full identity. “Stone knew him back in the day from her work as a Legal Aid lawyer. He was some kind of firebug. I think she was shagging him, too. But I only know a first name, Yusef.”

“May I help you?” Karp said to the woman with the computer.

“Oh,” Milquetost said, disappointed and sensing a shift in who was actually in charge. “Mr. Karp, I told this woman you were busy and that she could leave that laptop with me, and that you'd get back to her if necessary. But . . .”

“That's okay, Darla,” Karp said, walking forward and extending his hand to the other woman. “Hi, I'm District Attorney Roger Karp and you're . . . ?”

“Alethea Burns. I think my son might be the man the police are trying to identify . . . the man who was killed last night,” she said sorrowfully.

Karp gestured toward the meeting room. “Let's go in here to talk.”

Forty-five minutes later, Karp poked his head out. “Darla, would you call V. T. Newbury and ask if he can join me, please,” he said then disappeared back inside. They spoke another hour after Newbury arrived before the door opened again and the three emerged.

Karp was holding the laptop in one hand and shaking the woman's hand with the other. “I know this is terribly difficult for you,” he said. “But you've done the right thing here, and I can't thank you enough. We'll be in contact, and if anything changes as far as how to reach you, please keep my office updated. I gave you my card, and that's my direct number. If I can help you in any way, please call me.”

As she was now on the witness stand, the woman had been crying, but she tried to smile and nodded at what he said. “I will, Mr. Karp. And thank you for hearing me out without judging. What he was doing was bad, but I'm still a mother wondering where she went wrong. So thank you. I'll stay in touch.”

When she left the office, Karp turned to Newbury. His longtime friend and colleague was a New England blue blood, Harvard grad, and the DAO's resident geek assistant district attorney. In addition to being a walking talking law library who oversaw the DAO cases on appeal, he also did the tough, complicated white collar cases, and the more technology, gadgets, and computer lingo involved, the happier he was. In fact, he'd assembled a team that specialized in computer forensic and was salivating to get his hands on Mrs. Burns's son's laptop. “If this has what I hope it has on it, it's the key to nailing this case down,” Karp said.

“We already saw some pretty damning material,” Newbury said. “I agree that a deeper look could yield big returns; it's rare that the tip of the iceberg is all there is.”

“Make it
the
priority,” Karp said, handing over the laptop.

“Will do.”

After talking to Monroe, Karp had believed that he had a strong case. With the computer, he referred to it as a “motion picture case,” so overwhelming that a jury couldn't help but see the evidentiary impact of the prosecution's presentation. However, getting to it wasn't easy. Stone had not only been in the process of shredding incriminating documents when Fulton walked in on her, she'd deleted files and attempted to erase the history on her computer.

Newbury would soon be called to the stand to report the incriminating evidentiary findings from his team's examination of Stone's computer and the laptop delivered by Alethea Burns. Presently, Karp wanted her to establish the foundational basis for the investigation conducted by Newbury and his “geek” magicians.

So far with Burns on the stand, he'd established that Yusef Salaam had been born Henry Burns and only changed his name after he dropped out of high school. That alone was an invaluable piece of information he might never have found if the bomber's mother hadn't come to his office carrying his computer. The bomb squad had located enough of the bomber's hand to use for fingerprint identification, but there'd been no matches. As it turned out, “someone,” and Karp had a good guess who, had purged the fingerprints of one Henry Burns from the system since he had been arrested as a juvenile for an arson case and represented by a young Legal Aid attorney named Olivia Stone, née Bekins.

Burns said her son had been a “good little boy, never any problem after my husband walked out on us. He was sweet and kind and took care of his momma.” But then something had started to go wrong with his skin, like the color was draining out of him. When she finally got him into the free clinic, the doctors told her he had vitiligo. But they didn't seem to know much more than that, only that it might halt its progress or it could continue to spread. It had done the latter, and in such a way that half of his face looked white and the other half black.

Henry was only eleven years old when the disease appeared, and it was soon impossible to hide or cover up. The result was relentless teasing and bullying at school until he had no friends and became a recluse. He found solace in two things: an old computer his mom saved up to buy him, as well as access to the internet; that, and setting things on fire.

As she described the teasing her son suffered, Karp handed her two photographs. “Do you recognize the person depicted in these photographs, People's Exhibit 29a and 29b for identification?” he asked.

“Yes, the first one, that's my boy when he was only twelve,” Burns said. “You can see the vitiligo on the side of his face and neck. The second one is Yusef, about a year ago.” She handed them quickly back to Karp like bad memories.