Part 57 (1/2)
”Now, Dennis, you mentioned you piggybacked on their investigation. Did you take this list and check these plate numbers out yourself?”
”I did. All seventy-eight of them. As best I could without access to law enforcement computers.”
”And did any merit further attention or did you reach the same conclusion as detectives Kurlen and Longstreth?”
”Yes, one car merited more attention, in my opinion, and so I followed up on it.”
I asked permission to give the witness a copy of the seventy-eight license plate numbers. The judge allowed it. Cisco pulled his reading gla.s.ses out of his s.h.i.+rt pocket and put them on.
”Which license plate did you want to further check out?”
”W-N-U-T-Z-nine.”
”Why were you interested in that one?”
”Because at the time I looked at this list we were already far down the road in our other avenues of investigation. I knew that Louis Opparizio was part owner in a business called Wing Nuts. I thought maybe there was a connection to the vehicle that carried that plate.”
”So what did you find out?”
”That the car was registered to Wing Nuts, a courier service that is partially owned by Louis Opparizio.”
”And, again, why was that worthy of attention?”
”Well, as I said, I had the benefit of time. Kurlen and Longstreth put this list together on the day of the murder. They did not know all the key factors or individuals involved. I was looking at this several weeks down the road. And at that point I knew that the victim, Mr. Bondurant, had sent an incendiary letter to Mr. Opparizio and-”
Freeman objected to his description of the letter and the judge struck the word incendiary incendiary from the record. I then told Cisco to continue. from the record. I then told Cisco to continue.
”From our viewpoint, that letter cut Opparizio in as a person of interest and so I was doing a lot of background work on him. I connected him through Wing Nuts to a partner named Dominic Capelli. Capelli is known to law enforcement in New York as an a.s.sociate of an organized crime family run by a man named Joey Giordano. Capelli has various connections to other unsavory-”
Freeman objected again and the judge sustained it. I put on my best show of frustration, acting as though both the judge and prosecutor were keeping the truth from the jury.
”Okay, let's go back to the list and what it means. What did it show occurred at the garage involving a car owned by Wing Nuts?”
”It showed that the car entered the garage at eight oh-five.”
”And what time did it leave?”
”The exit camera showed it leaving at eight fifty.”
”So this vehicle entered the garage before the murder and left after the murder. Do I have that right?”
”That's correct.”
”And the vehicle was owned by a company that was owned by a man with direct ties to organized crime. Is that also right?”
”Yes, it is.”
”Okay, did you determine if there was a legitimate business reason for a vehicle belonging to Wing Nuts to be in that garage?”
”Of course, the business is a courier service. It is used regularly by ALOFT to deliver doc.u.ments to WestLand National. But what was curious to me is why the car entered at eight oh-five and then left before the bank even opened at nine.”
I looked at Cisco for a long moment. My gut said I had gotten all I needed to get. There was still chicken on the bone but sometimes you just have to push the plate away. Sometimes leaving the jury with a question is the best way to go.
”I have nothing further,” I said.
My direct examination had been very precise in scope to include only testimony about the license plates. This left Freeman little to work with on cross. However, she did score one point when she elicited from Cisco a reminder to the jury that WestLand National occupied only three floors of a ten-story building. The courier from Wing Nuts could have been going somewhere other than the bank, thus explaining his early arrival in the garage.
I was sure that if there was a record of a courier delivery to an office in the building other than the bank, then she would produce it-or Opparizio's people would magically produce it for her-by the time she could put on reb.u.t.tal witnesses.
After a half hour, Freeman threw in the towel and sat down. That was when the judge asked if I had another witness to call.
”No, Your Honor,” I said. ”The defense rests.”
The judge dismissed the jury for the day and instructed them to be in the a.s.sembly room by nine the next morning. Once they were gone Perry set the stage for the end of the trial, asking the attorneys if they would have reb.u.t.tal witnesses. I said no. Freeman said she wanted to reserve the right to call reb.u.t.tal witnesses in the morning.
”Okay, then we will reserve the morning session for reb.u.t.tal, if there is any reb.u.t.tal,” Perry said. ”Closing arguments will begin first thing after the lunch break and each side will be limited to one hour. With any luck and no more surprises, our jury will go into deliberations by this time tomorrow.”
Perry left the bench then and I was left at the defense table with Aronson and Trammel. Lisa reached over and put her hand on top of mine.
”That was brilliant,” she said. ”The whole morning was brilliant. I think that the jurors finally get it as well. I was watching them. I think they know the truth.”
I looked back at Trammel and then at Aronson, two different expressions on their faces.
”Thank you, Lisa. I guess it won't be long before we find out.”
Fifty-two.
In the morning Andrea Freeman surprised me by not surprising me. She stood before the judge and said she had no reb.u.t.tal witnesses. She then rested the state's case.
This gave me pause. I had come to court fully prepared to face at least one final tilt with her. Testimony explaining the Wing Nuts car in the bank garage, or maybe Driscoll's supervisor putting the boots to him, even a prosecution foreclosure expert to contradict Aronson's a.s.sertions. But nothing. She folded the tent.
She was going with the blood. Whether I had robbed her of her Bolero Bolero crescendo or not, she was going to make her stand on the one incontrovertible aspect of the entire trial: the blood. crescendo or not, she was going to make her stand on the one incontrovertible aspect of the entire trial: the blood.
Judge Perry recessed court for the morning so the attorneys could work on their closing arguments and he could retreat to chambers to work on the jury charge-the final set of instructions jurors would take with them into deliberations.
I called Rojas and had him pick me up on Delano. I didn't want to go back to the office. Too many distractions. I told Rojas just to drive and I spread my files and notes out in the backseat of the Lincoln. This was where I did my best thinking, my best prep work.
At one o'clock sharp, court reconvened. Like everything else in the criminal justice system, closing arguments were tipped toward the state. The prosecution got to speak first and last. The defense got the middle.
It looked to me like Freeman was going with the standard prosecutorial format. Build the house with the facts on the first swing and then pull their emotional strings on the second.
Block by block she outlined the evidence against Lisa Trammel, seemingly leaving out nothing presented since the start of the trial. The discourse was dry but c.u.mulative. She covered means and motive, and she brought it all home with the blood. The hammer, the shoes, the uncontested DNA findings.
”I told you at the beginning of this trial that blood would tell the tale,” she said. ”And here we are. You can discount everything else, but the blood evidence alone warrants a vote of guilty as charged. I am sure you will follow your conscience and do just that.”
She sat down and then it was my turn. I stood in the opening in front of the jury box and addressed the twelve directly. But I wasn't alone in the well. As previously approved by the judge, I brought Manny out to stand with me. Dr. Shamiram Arslanian's erstwhile companion stood upright, with the hammer attached to the crown of his head, his head snapped back at the unusual angle that would have been necessary if Lisa Trammel had struck the fatal blow.