Presumed Guilty, page 19
The reason why I wanted to know about this was because the true-crime buffs were usually people desensitized to the mind of a criminal. To them, this entire scenario would be much less outlandish. Truth was often stranger than fiction and avid readers of true crime nonfiction books, and avid viewers of documentaries on TV and Netflix, knew that the criminal mind could be extremely devious.
In this case, I knew Jacob had something major to hide. Something that was so devastating that he would literally kill to protect it and then cover that murder up. It was all part of a very carefully laid out plan. A plan that Sophia Delgado knew about, of course. She had to have known about it, because she was a participant in the cover-up. And that was bad enough for Jacob. It was bad enough knowing that there was one sane person in this world who knew what he did. And that person’s name was Sophia Delgado.
So why did he kill her now? I discovered that answer over the course of my investigation as well. It wasn’t just that he was freaked out that Sophia had been pulled over by a cop for suspicion of driving under the influence. She was not, however, arrested for it. The cop who pulled her over made the mistake of allowing her to make a phone call before he put her in the police car because she was recognized as Jacob Whitmore’s daughter. Since Jacob was a very important person in the Coronado area, cops gave deference to his family. So Sophia was allowed to make a phone call to Jacob and tell him what was going on. Needless to say, Jacob was down at the station before the cop and Sophia even arrived there. The charges were dropped and Sophia was never fingerprinted.
That was a close call. It was a close enough call that there was the possibility that Jacob would’ve killed her after the incident. He had to have known that one of those days, Sophia would be arrested for drunk driving and would not be allowed to make a phone call to him before being brought into the station. And if she was ever fingerprinted, that would be it. The jig would be up and questions would be asked.
So, the near arrest might’ve been a catalyst for doing what he did.
Might’ve been.
Then again, I found out another fact that was even more devastating than that. Another reason why he would’ve killed Sophia.
And this particular fact, to me, was dispositive.
* * *
After two days of intense questioning and voir dire, we had our jury.
I was ready to go.
Chapter Thirty-Five
After we did our opening statements, it was time to party.
The prosecutor’s opening statement was pretty good. It laid out the facts, such as they were. It was completely ridiculous, as Regina had stated, that they would try to show that an immigrant would risk being deported by doing something as stupid as stealing from the Whitmores. Not just stealing from them, but stealing a necklace as valuable as the one she was accused of taking.
My opening statement, I believe, was better. I had a much more complicated set of facts I would have to show, therefore I had to carefully lay it all out. I had to show my argument, bit by bit. Element by element, I had to lay it out for them. I could see that when I began my opening statement, many of them looked somewhat confused. But, by the end of my statement, I could see they were with me. I saw their faces change from perplexed to a ha in a blink of an eye.
After opening statements, Brent was apparently ready to go.
“Counselor, call your first witness,” Judge Warner said to Brent.
He called as his first witness the police who were on the scene. I wasn’t too interested in them. I knew that whatever they had to say wouldn’t hurt or help our case. Nevertheless, I did ask one of the officers on the scene about the interrogation.
“Officer O’Neill,” I started to ask him. “I could see by the interrogation transcripts you were questioning my client for six hours. Is that right?”
He nodded his head. “Yes. That’s correct.”
“And during that period of time, this period of six hours, did you allow my client to have a bathroom break?”
He got closer to the microphone. “No. We did not.”
“You didn’t? But I don’t understand. According to the transcript, you and Officer French took several breaks during this period of time. In fact, one of those breaks was for lunch. Now isn’t it true you did bring lunch into my client, including a large pop?”
“Yes. That is true.”
“And the pop was actually a Diet Coke, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“And was that pop a 32 ouncer?” I asked him.
“Yes. That’s correct.”
“And you still kept her for another four hours after you gave her that pop, isn’t that right? In fact, you not only gave her that pop, but you also gave her three other bottled waters, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“Now, isn’t it true you told her that if she just told you what you wanted to hear, that she murdered Aria Whitmore in cold blood, she would be free to go?”
“I did tell her she had to tell the truth about what had happened that night. If she did tell the truth, then, yes, she would’ve been free to go.”
“That was a lie, wasn’t it? If she would’ve admitted to having murdered Aria Whitmore, she would’ve been under arrest, not free to go, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“So, you’re admitting you lied to her,” I said.
“Yes. We did lie to her about that.”
“And she asked to go to the bathroom several times, didn’t she?”
“Yes. But we were not going to allow her to do that until after the interrogation was through. We made that perfectly clear. It’s a security risk. We did not have a female officer at that time who would have been able to escort her into the restroom. So we had no choice but to make her stay there until we were through with questioning her.”
I nodded. “You didn’t have a female officer available to escort her? Is that what you just said?”
“Yes. That’s what I just said.”
I knew that was a lie. “Oh. So Officer Monroe, a female officer with 20 years experience, was not available that evening?”
“No. She was busy with paperwork. Her shift was over.”
“She was in the building, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. But she was busy.”
I went through a list of the other female officers who were around, and every time I mentioned it, Officer O’Neill said that particular female officer was busy during this time.
“And isn’t it true that during this interrogation that my client was wearing a short sleeve shirt and a pair of shorts?”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“And you and Officer French were in fact wearing long sleeves and pants?”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“And isn’t it true you deliberately put the temperature of the room down to 66° while my client was in there?”
“Ma’am, the point of an interrogation is not to make sure the suspect is comfortable.”
“No, as a matter fact, the point of the interrogation is to make sure the suspect is very uncomfortable, isn’t that true?”
“No. That is not true. However, we adjust the temperature of the room according to the comfort level of the officers, not the suspect. Officer French and I were comfortable with the room’s temperature. That was the only thing important during this time. Not that Ms. Gutierrez was comfortable.”
“And didn’t you tell Ms. Gutierrez, my client, that if she just cooperated with the two of you, you would talk to the prosecutor about going easy on her?”
“Yes. I did tell her that.”
“And what, exactly, would going easy on her entail in this case?”
“Just that I would tell the prosecutor that Ms. Gutierrez cooperated. The final decision, of course, is up to the prosecutor. But I would put in a good word.”
“Now isn’t it true that even after you and Officer French went out of your way to make sure my client was as uncomfortable as humanly possible, assuming my client was not wearing an adult diaper, which she was not, my client still did not confess to killing Aria Whitmore. Isn’t that right?”
He got closer to the microphone. “Yes. That’s correct.”
“I have nothing further.”
The state then called in the medical examiner. I had a few questions for her as well. She testified that her preliminary examination showed the victim had shown signs of blunt trauma and had been strangled. She concluded that the victim died because of strangulation, not because of the blunt force trauma.
I thought about what Lauren had told me about how the real Aria was killed and how she was killed by a large rock. The fake Aria was killed by blunt force trauma as well.
Because the medical examiner was not able to establish the victim in this case was not Aria, simply because the original autopsy was not focused on identification matters, and then the body was cremated, I would have to cross-examine her about other matters. Specifically, I asked her about the entire situation about the reopened autopsy. That was important, because I wanted the jury to understand why I couldn’t definitively prove the person who died in Aria’s place was not her.
“Now, Dr. Jackson,” I said to her. “Isn’t it true I made a motion to the court to have the autopsy reopened because I found out new information about the victim, but I found that out some six weeks after the original autopsy was performed?”
“Yes. That is true.”
“Were you able to establish the victim in this case was not Aria Whitmore?”
“No. I was not.”
“And why were you not able to establish that fact?”
“Because Mr. Whitmore apparently had elected to have the body of the victim cremated.”
“And the body was cremated after it was buried, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“So, as you understand it, Jacob Whitmore had his daughter buried in a coffin. And then, two days before the body could be exhumed for the new autopsy, before anybody in this case could be notified, Mr. Whitmore had his daughter’s body exhumed and cremated. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes. That’s correct.”
I let that fact speak for itself. It was very suspicious that Jacob would do that. Why have his daughter’s body exhumed and cremated unless you’re trying to do a coverup?
He was a clever one, that Jacob Whitmore. But maybe not that clever. If he was, he would’ve had the body cremated to begin with.
I opened my mouth, intending to ask some more questions, but I realized the questions I really needed to ask were the ones I needed to ask Jacob himself. It would be a very fruitful examination when he finally took the stand.
The prosecutor had a few more witnesses, and then it was time to wrap up for the day.
I felt fairly confident I had drawn blood, so I was happy with the exchange with the medical examiner. I knew I could wrap things up in a nice neat bow when I had to.
I was looking forward to that.
Chapter Thirty-Six
At the end of the day, I got out on the street and saw people were still gathered in front of the courthouse. In fact, there were more people now than there were earlier. Some guy had a bullhorn and he was talking into it. He was telling the crowd about how we must not let things stand. He was saying that immigrants were the cause of all the problems in this country, and Esme was just the tip of the iceberg. I had to bite my tongue to keep from engaging with the guy. He was such a lunatic. In a way, I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for anybody who had so much hatred in their heart.
I got home and Christian came home with me. I invited him over for dinner, as I wanted to go through the case with him. I also wanted to talk to Aidan about all of this. Aidan was no longer being as weird with me about this case as he used to be, just because there was no longer a reason to be. I had already talked to Julian Rodriguez about the situation because he was finally cooperating with me. In fact, Julian had agreed to testify in court about what he knew. So, as far as Aidan was concerned, he was in the clear with this whole situation.
However, Aidan had a surprise for me. A surprise guest.
His guest’s name was Brad.
Brad Whitmore.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Hello,” I said to the guy who was standing in the living room with my brother. Brad was tall, about 6 foot 3, and was small framed, but had kind of a large gut. He was balding on top, which was highly unusual, considering the guy was only 20 years old.
“I’m Avery Collins,” I said to him, extending my hand. He just looked at my hand and didn’t shake it. “I’m representing Esme Gutierrez in the murder of your sister.” I looked over at Aidan, who was looking pretty satisfied about having found this guy.
Ever since I found out there was a Brad, Brad was Aria’s brother and was being blamed for the death of the original Aria, I was in hot pursuit of trying to find him. I’d asked Lauren about it but she was no help. She told me he moved without telling her where he was going, just out of the blue.
I knew Brad would be a material witness, to say the very least, but I had no idea where he was. Yet Aidan finally tracked him down. I had no idea how he found him, but I was happy he did.
The guy nodded. He looked down at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with me. He looked at Aidan furtively and I got the impression that Aidan and he had bonded in some way.
Aidan came over to me. “Brad told me he broke into the house that one night. He had the knife. He wanted me to tell you this because he’s very sorry about it. He hopes you can forgive him but he really wanted you to not defend Esme Gutierrez. He wanted that because he thought he’d killed Sophia Delgado. He told me he got the incident with Sophia mixed up with the incident with Aria all those years ago, and the two things blended together in his mind. He still was convinced he had killed Aria all those years ago but now he’s not so sure.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. “Brad, I would like to ask you a question.”
I had a feeling this Brad was the mysterious X. I had always suspected X had known Christian was on the case with me because the person who threatened me over the email was the same person who broke into my home - there was a business card from Christian on the dining room table, asking me to call him about the case. That card was gone, presumably taken by the intruder. There was a second business card, the one I used to call Christian.
I always wondered if the person who had contacted me, X, knew Christian had been on the case because of that business card.
I felt my heart start to quicken as I realized there was a possibility that this guy, along with the possibility he could testify in court, assuming he was not in the throes of psychosis, would also have information for me about who killed Becky.
He didn’t look at me. Rather, he looked at Aidan, who nodded. “You’re going to have to address the questions you have for him to me. He doesn’t communicate very much with people. In fact, it took me a long time to gain his trust.”
I raised an eyebrow at Brad. I wondered how long Aidan had known about this guy. I would have to talk to him later about how he found him, how long he’d known him, and why he didn’t tell me about him a long time ago. I was very thorough with my witness list and had included him on it. However, I could just see the prosecutor asking the judge to exclude him because the prosecutor didn’t know about his existence prior to the trial.
Once again, I found myself wanting to brain Aidan. He managed to make things much more difficult than necessary.
“Okay, here’s the question I want you to ask him. Did he write me threatening emails, signing them simply X?”
Aidan turned to Brad. “My sister, Avery, wants to ask if you threatened her over email.”
Brad got closer to Aidan and whispered something in his ear.
“Yes,” Aidan said to me. “He wrote those threatening emails.” And then he looked over at Brad, who was holding up two fingers. Brad whispered something else to him. “The two emails.”
I swallowed hard. I wondered how a guy who seemed so nonfunctional could write such an intelligent and articulate email. But perhaps I didn’t need to wonder that. This guy obviously was non-communicative with people in person. That didn’t mean he was not highly intelligent and able to write a good email. After all, his mother said he was highly intelligent.
I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I didn’t want to think this guy really had information about the murder of my best friend. But then again, I had to ask him that question. If there was even a chance he had that kind of information, I would press him on it.
“Ask Brad if he was serious when he wrote he had information about the murder of my best friend. Please ask him that.”
Aidan bowed his head as he talked to Brad, and I saw Brad whispering in his ear.
“Yes. He states he does know information about that.”
I shook my head. This was all so crazy. I would be getting information after all these years. Then again, I had no idea if I could trust anything this guy had to say. However, if he could possibly lead me to a place where I could tell a cop about what happened to Becky, then this guy was gold, as far as I was concerned. No, not gold. Platinum. He would be that valuable to me.
“Okay. What information does he need to tell me? Who killed her?”
I saw Brad whisper into his ear. He whispered in his ear for quite a while. I could not hear what he was saying, and that, of course, was by design.
“He has information about who knows what happened to your friend. There was a friend he knew when he was young. This was before he went into the mental institution at age 12. This friend knew your friend. The person who killed Becky was extremely wealthy and makes his own father look like a pauper. His father is a billionaire, Avery. So if the person who killed her was even richer than him - well, you can just imagine. He told me that’s why the prosecutor hid evidence. Your attorney was apparently in on the whole situation. They conspired to make sure you were convicted of this crime.”
