Misty River, page 15
“I knew he didn’t have the money to purchase that ring and figured he’d been up to no good, so I asked him where he got it. When he didn’t answer my question, I let it go and went back to bed.
“The next day, he turned on the TV news, which was odd because he’d never been interested in it. That’s when I learned that a woman had been sexually assaulted the night before. I couldn’t believe my eyes when they put up the sheriff’s sketch of the assailant. I thought, My god, that’s Buck.”
Blake nodded. “Ms. Fleming, is it true that later that day, you called the sheriff and told Detective Barnes what you just told us?” He carefully framed his question so that the jury wouldn’t learn about the defendant’s involvement in the Amoia murder case, which would have resulted in a mistrial.
“Yes, I certainly did.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Sweeney approached the witness stand with less swagger, and Blake thought he must have realized that he couldn’t ask open-ended questions without getting shot down on redirect.
“Ms. Fleming, isn’t it true you had no firsthand knowledge of how Mr. Owens obtained the ring? Yes or no?”
“Yes, I would have to say that is true.”
“I have no further questions.”
“Mr. Moretti, please call your next witness,” Judge Croghan
instructed.
“Your Honor, the State calls Deputy John Otto. Deputy Otto has been a member of the Leigh County Sheriff’s Office for ten years, serving as an evidence collection technician. He was dispatched to the scene of a reported rape at approximately two in the morning on March 18, 1987.”
Otto took the stand, and Blake said, “I will show you exhibits twenty and twenty-one and ask you if you recognize them. If so, please identify them.”
“Certainly, Mr. Moretti, I recognize exhibit bags twenty and twenty-one. Both exhibit bags bear my initials and the handwritten date. State’s exhibit twenty contains the bag containing groceries and the grocery receipt that I found in the grocery bag, proving that the items were purchased at Hangers the night Ms. Spencer reported being raped. State’s exhibit twenty-one contains clothing belonging to the victim, which I recovered at the scene of the rape.”
“Deputy Otto, were there perishable grocery items in State’s exhibit twenty?”
“Yes, sir. I recovered a one-pound package of ground hamburg and a two-pound package of chicken.”
“Deputy Otto, please display the victim’s clothing in State’s exhibit twenty-one, recovered from the scene of the rape.”
Deputy Otto displayed the victim’s blue sweater, bra, panties, sneakers, and blue jeans, for the jurors. As you can see, each of the items is stained with red clay soil, which matches the soil where I found them. The items were found close to each other.”
“What happened to the mini skirt, Deputy Otto?”
“Mr. Moretti there wasn’t any mini skirt to collect at the scene of the rape.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“If there had been a mini skirt at the crime scene, I would have recovered it.”
Moretti intentionally didn’t ask Deputy Otto about lighting when he looked for evidence at the crime scene. He gambled Sweeney would. To set Sweeney up, he said, “Thank you, Deputy Otto. Mr. Sweeney may have a question for you about the mysterious mini skirt.”
“I object, Your Honor ...”
Sweeney had barely finished his sentence when Blake said, “Strike that. Nothing further.”
“Mr. Sweeney, do you have any questions?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Deputy, do you agree it was pitch black when you arrived at the scene?”
“Yes, sir, that would be accurate.”
“And do you agree that you overlooked Ms. Spencer’s mini skirt because it was pitch black?”
“No, I do not.”
The predictable gotcha question amused Blake, who knew Sweeney was about to violate the golden rule of never asking a question without knowing the answer.
“Deputy, do you think this jury will believe you didn’t miss Ms. Spencer’s mini skirt, even though you just admitted it was pitch black at the scene when you searched for evidence?”
“Yes, Mr. Sweeney, that’s an easy one for me to explain. It was so dark that I plugged my portable utility pole lights into my evidence truck generator. I lit the woods up like a football field during a night game. I didn’t have any difficulty looking for evidence. I don’t know who told you there was a mini skirt, but I am saying unequivocally there was no such garment at the crime scene. If there had been, I would have seen it and collected it. The victim appeared to have been wearing jeans, not a mini skirt.”
“No more questions, Your Honor.” As Sweeney returned to counsel’s table, he looked harshly at Owens, who was pretending to write in his trial notebook.
Blake called his last witness, Detective John Barnes. He always saved the case detective for last so he could discuss what the investigation had revealed and address any issues raised by the defense during cross-examination.
Then it was time to play the recorded statement Owens had insisted on making during the interview. Blake was sure that when the jury heard him boasting that women couldn’t resist him, they would loathe him. Especially the nine female jurors.
“Detective Barnes, having identified the audio recording of my interview of the defendant, in the presence of his lawyer, Mr. Sweeney, as fair and accurate, I have placed it in evidence subject to the redactions stipulated by Mr. Sweeney and myself and approved by Judge Croghan. Please play it for the ladies and gentlemen of the jury.”
Blake returned to his seat at the counsel’s table, and waited as the recording was played in open court. He knew that Sweeney could not object but would be forced to pretend that his case hadn’t been demolished, so he sat back and relaxed, sure that Owens would pay dearly for disregarding the advice of both his lawyer and the judge to keep his mouth shut. No juror with a modicum of common sense would buy Owens’s fanciful tale.
Early on, Blake’s mother had taught him that he would learn more from listening to others than listening to himself talk drivel.
“Son, let me give you some free advice. You can learn things the easy way or the hard way. It’s your choice. But remember, words have meaning. You can open your mouth and stick your foot in it as much as your little heart desires. You may have the right to speak but be careful that your words don’t result in undesirable consequences.” Jesus, she was always right.
Owens was about to learn the price of requesting a meeting and lying to Blake and his investigator. His own words would trap him.
The jurors listened intensely to every word of the recording. Blake watched their reactions as Owens bragged about his alleged sexual conquests.
Several of them looked puzzled or disbelieving as he attempted to portray himself as the victim of Olivia’s advances.
“I didn’t rape that woman. I was going to the grocery store to buy a six-pack of beer, and she approached me and started flirting with me. Before I knew it, she asked me if I wanted to fuck her. So, I thought, what the hell?”
Blake saw that the jurors had stopped taking notes, as their looks of bewilderment had turned to disgust. Every word that left Owens’s lips was a lie.
Blake’s question about possessing a firearm forced him to admit he’d had a gun the day Olivia was raped. And when asked about stealing the ring, he’d said, “She gave me her engagement ring because she enjoyed the sex so much.”
Blake was confident the jury would vote to convict when the recorded interview finished. Still, before he rested his case, he had two final questions for Detective Barnes.
“Detective Barnes, did Olivia Spencer provide a detailed and consistent rape account to the deputy sheriffs and Mrs. Elliot?”
“Yes, absolutely one hundred percent consistent.”
According to Doctor Price, Ms. Spencer suffered blunt force trauma to her face, head, arms, and legs, as well as contusions and tears to her vagina and anus. Did those medical findings match the injuries Olivia described she sustained during the sexual assault? ”
“Yes, absolutely one hundred percent.”
“Thank you, Detective. No further questions.”
Sweeney attempted to save his case on cross-examination. “Detective, isn’t it true that Billy Owens cooperated with law enforcement and offered to speak to Prosecutor Moretti so he could clarify the events of March 17, 1987?”
“No, it is not.”
Blake knew Sweeney would ask that question. Most defense attorneys do. They think a defendant who agrees to speak to the sheriff, forgoing the right to remain silent, appears to have nothing to hide, so they must be innocent.
Seasoned detectives like Barnes don’t fall for that. At the pretrial interview, Blake discussed the question with him. Barnes intentionally didn’t attempt to explain his “no” response, because Sweeney, like every other defense attorney, couldn’t help but ask a follow-up.
“Detective Barnes, how can you say my client didn’t cooperate with your investigation? He gave Mr. Moretti a recorded verbal statement.”
“Thank you for asking that question. Yes, your client did request to speak with the prosecutor. However, his purpose was to tell him a far-fetched story that the events of March 17, 1987, took place at the request and with the full consent of the victim, Ms. Spencer, which is inconsistent with her statement to the sheriff, the prosecutor, and the testimonies of Mrs. Elliot, Valerie Fleming, and Dr. Price regarding the physical injuries she sustained.
“Hiding and telling fictitious stories to law enforcement officials are not signs of cooperation. Bottom line: your client’s actions and words hindered our investigation.”
Barnes glanced at Blake, looking for his approval. Like a third-base coach giving signals to the batter, Blake touched his right ear with his right hand.
It seemed to Blake that Sweeney had no more questions for the detective. He couldn’t have felt good about his last mistake. But the defense attorney couldn’t help himself.
“Are you suggesting that my client’s recorded statement to this jury is inconsistent with the evidence?”
“No, counselor, I am not suggesting it, I am telling you it is a fact. Your client’s story regarding his encounter with Ms. Spencer is undoubtedly one hundred percent inconsistent with the evidence presented at trial.”
Sweeney walked back to the counsel’s table and spoke quietly to Owens, who pointed to his notepad. Sweeney shook his head no, and announced he had no further questions for the detective.
“Does the state have any redirect?” Judge Croghan asked.
“No, Your Honor, it isn’t necessary.”
“Very well, Detective Barnes, you are excused. Let’s take a fifteen-minute recess. I ask that the lawyers meet me in chambers.”
Judge Croghan poured herself a cup of coffee and invited the lawyers to do the same. Sweeney demurred.
“Rough morning, Sweeney?” Blake asked. “Perhaps you could use something a little stronger than coffee.”
“Moretti, you’re killing me. At least throw me a couple of bones now and then.”
Blake never lets up with an opponent. Not when he played chess, not when he played a playground game of one-on-one basketball. During a trial, he never took his foot off the gas pedal.
“Sweeney, that’s not going to happen. You and your client made it impossible to resolve this case. You requested a speedy trial, and I granted your wish.” In Blake’s mind, it was time for retribution.
“Well, gentlemen,” Judge Croghan said, “I want to get a handle on where we are. Moretti, do you have any more witnesses?”
“No, Your Honor, the State is ready to rest its case.”
“Good. I’ll have you do that on the record when we return to the courtroom. Sweeney, do you intend to put on any evidence?”
“Yes, ignoring my advice, my client has elected to testify.”
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s get the show on the road.”
Chapter 24
The Defendant’s Side
Of The Story
The Rape Trial continues
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the State has rested its case. Accordingly, the defendant may call his first witness.”
“The defense calls Billy Owens.”
For the best part of an hour, Owens answered Sweeney’s questions regarding his dysfunctional upbringing. He told the jury that his ex-girlfriend, Valerie Fleming, had lied because he’d broken up with her after she’d fabricated the story, she told the sheriff. He testified that Olivia Spencer lied about the kidnapping, robbery, and rape so her boyfriend wouldn’t know that she’d initiated sex. He insinuated that she had mental problems. He testified that Mrs. Elliot had misconstrued her observations, that Olivia had pulled the wool over her eyes, acting as though she’d been raped to cover her tracks.
“I have one more question,” Sweeney asked at last. “Did you kidnap, rob and rape Olivia Spencer on the night of March 17, 1987?”
Owens turned to look at the jurors. “No, sir. Everyone lied. I’ve been framed. I did my best to tell the prosecutor what happened, but he didn’t care about the truth.”
“Thank you, Billy. I am sorry you had to endure this nightmare.”
“Mr. Moretti, any cross of the defendant?” Judge Croghan asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Blake was more than ready. “So, Mr. Owens, how often do you shop at the local grocery store?”
“I don’t know. Why do you care?”
“Mr. Owens, according to you, you’re quite the ladies’ man. I was attempting to determine how often you get lucky and run into a woman at the local grocery store who falls in love with you at first sight and tells you she wants to have sex with you?”
“More than you think. You know how soccer moms are. They can’t get enough sex at home, so they go out looking for it.”
Blake could tell from Owens’s body language and the tone of his voice that he’d gotten under his skin, as he had during the jail interview. The guy was an easy target, so he fired more questions.
“Do you get lucky with these soccer moms once a week or more often?”
“Look, Moretti, women like me. I can’t help that. It’s not unusual for a woman to approach me for sex. Maybe twice a week sometimes. I don’t keep track.”
“Mr. Owens, do you have to go to the same grocery store to get lucky, or since you don’t have a vehicle, do you walk to more than one grocery store to give women an equal opportunity to have sex with you?”
Owens gripped the arms of the witness chair. “I’m getting tired of your mocking me. I’m done answering your questions.”
Blake smiled. “Your Honor, please direct the witness to answer my question.”
“Mr. Owens, you may not pick and choose the questions you wish to answer. You made a conscious decision to testify after being fully appraised of your right not to talk. Answer Mr. Moretti’s question.”
“The same one!” shouted Owens, digging himself into a deeper hole. Blake needed only two more questions to finish him off.
“Mr. Owens, I would imagine if you enjoyed your sexual liaisons with these women, you must have obtained their names and contact information if you wished to see them again.”
“What if I did?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Owens, I get to ask the questions, not you. So, please answer my question, or the judge will order you to answer it. Your choice.”
Owens couldn’t stop himself from lying every time he opened his mouth. He had no clue where Blake was going with his line of questioning.
“Yeah, I did that on a few occasions.”
Blake was playing with the defendant now. Catching him in lies was like shooting fish in a barrel. He picked up his legal pad and tore off a blank page, approached the court reporter and asked her to provide him with a state exhibit sticker. He wrote the number thirty-five on the sticker representing the following sequence exhibit number, placing it on the blank page’s top right-hand corner.
Then he turned to the judge. “Your Honor, may I approach the witness?”
“Yes, you may.”
“Mr. Owens, I am handing you State’s exhibit thirty-five and a pen. Please write the names and contact information of the women with whom you wished to continue a sexual relationship.”
Blake knew the defense would challenge his pretense on the grounds that it would potentially damage the reputation of the women Owens identified. But he was ready to defuse that argument. He also knew it wouldn’t matter because Owens always lied and wouldn’t list one real name.
Sure enough, Sweeney was on his feet. “Your Honor, for the protection of the women with whom my client engaged in a relationship, I voice an objection.”
“Mr. Moretti, help the court out here. I share Mr. Sweeney’s concerns. Unless you can provide a solution to this dilemma, I will sustain the motion.”
“Yes, Your Honor. The remedy is to seal the exhibit from the public and allow only the jury to view it with an instruction that they may not divulge the names to anyone.”
“Right. That will work. Mr. Owens, please comply with Mr. Moretti’s request.”
Owens sat staring at blank exhibit number thirty-five, then picked up the pen as though he were ready to provide the information. “I can’t remember any of their names or personal information.”
Standing within arm’s length, Blake asked, “Mr. Owens, that’s because it was all a lie. Despite your testimony to the contrary, there were no other women. Isn’t that true?”
Owens was trapped. If he didn’t provide the women’s names, the jury would know he’d been lying. But if he listed fake names, Moretti would investigate and catch him. Either way, he was screwed.
Sweeney knew what Blake was doing. “Your Honor, Mr. Moretti is confusing my client. I ask that you order him to stop.”
Blake turned to face Sweeney. “Your client and I are fine, thank you. We don’t need your help.”
“That’s enough, gentlemen,” the judge admonished. “Mr. Sweeney, your objection is overruled. Mr. Owens, answer the question.”
