Dog Tags

CHAPTER 51

SCIENCE HAS ITS PLACE IN A TRIAL, BUT PROSECUTORS DIFFER ON WHERE THAT PLACE IS. Their varying opinions on how juries receive scientific evidence especially impact on the order of the witnesses they call, and that decision can set the tone for the entire trial to follow.

Scientific testimony is drier than eyewitness or motive testimony, and some prosecutors believe it should therefore come first, when jurors are eager and alert. It also provides a more compelling proof, harder to refute, and introducing it first might render a juror more receptive to the “why” and “how” testimony to follow.

The majority of prosecutors take a differing view. They want their case to be an unfolding story, told in the same general chronological order as the crime was committed. Therefore, since forensic proof by definition must follow the crime, the witnesses who present it should bring up the rear.

If the eyewitness and motive evidence in this latter approach is compelling, the prosecutor can demonstrate the defendant’s guilt independent of the forensics. When the science is finally introduced, it serves as ironclad confirmation of what the jury already knows, and it is therefore even more unassailable by the pathetically weak defense, in this case me.

Eli is a proponent of the second approach, as I would be if I were in his shoes. As his first witness he calls Kenny Parker, a twenty-three-year-old law student who recently finished his second year at Seton Hall.

Once Eli sets the stage with some questions establishing Parker as a fine, upstanding young man, he brings out that he was present at the Skybar the night of the murder. He also has Parker admit that he had been drinking a bit, but that he was sober and clearheaded when he left.

“Please describe what happened and what you saw as you left the bar,” Eli says.

“Well, I was standing there, and I heard this loud noise, I thought it was a firecracker or something, coming from down the block. I started to turn that way, and all of a sudden this big dog comes running right toward me, with something in his mouth.”

“What did you do next?” Eli asks.

“I backed up a little, because I thought the dog was coming at me. But he ran right by, and then I heard another loud noise. Then there was all this yelling, and a lot of people running around. So I went down the street, and I saw a body on the ground, and someone standing over him.”

“Can you identify that person?”

Parker nods. “Yeah… yes. It was him.” He points to Billy to complete the identification. “And then he leaned over to the guy on the ground, and put his hand on his neck. It was like he was feeling for a pulse or something.”

“Did you see anyone else there?”

“You mean by the body? No, there were a lot of people running around and yelling, but he was the only one by the body at that point.”

Eli turns the witness over to me, and I ask Parker why he went to the bar that night.

“Just to have a little fun with some friends; there aren’t that many places to go at night around here.”

“So you were having fun,” I say. “Playing Wiffle ball? Video games? Pin the tail on the donkey? That kind of fun?”

He laughs a little uncomfortably. “No, we had some drinks and talked. Danced a little.”

“How many drinks did you have?”

“I think two,” he says. “But I was there for almost three hours.”

“What were you drinking?”

“I’m pretty sure it was vodka and tonic.”

“How long does it take to drink one of those?’

He shrugs. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes. Depends on how long I want it to last.”

“So you had two drinks, lasting maybe twenty minutes each, and you were there for three hours. Sounds like you had a lot of downtime, huh?”

Eli objects that I’m being argumentative, which I will continue to be throughout the trial. Judge Catchings sustains the objection.

“How much do they charge for a vodka and tonic?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. Maybe eight bucks.”

I introduce as evidence a copy of his bar check that night, which totaled eighty-two dollars and seventy-five cents. He tells me that he bought a bunch of drinks for his friends.

“That’s nice; you’re obviously a generous guy. Ten of the eleven drinks listed on that check were vodka and tonics; sounds like you and your friends have similar taste.”

“Sometimes the bartender just keeps writing down whatever the first drink was.”

This makes no sense to me, and the jury will feel the same way, so I don’t have to pursue it further.

“You testified that when you left the bar, you were standing there in front. Were you waiting for something?”

He looks worried as he says, “For my friend, Danny.”

“Did Danny drive you there that night?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

At that moment, Parker has to decide whether to continue lying or tell the truth. He chooses the truth, probably because he assumes I already know it and will nail him with it. “He was the designated driver.”

I could press and embarrass him on this for the rest of the day, but I don’t. The jury is smart enough to know when designated drivers are required, and I don’t want to be seen as badgering him.

I keep Parker on the stand for another twenty minutes, getting him to admit that it was dark down the street, and hard for him to see. I can’t get him to retract anything that he testified to about the murder itself, mainly because it was all true.

He may have been drunk, but his recollections are accurate. And damaging.

When court ends I head home, have dinner with Laurie, put in a trust session with Milo, and then decide to take Tara for a walk. I haven’t been doing enough of this lately, because of Milo’s presence.

My walks with Tara are special times for both of us, and I think she’s been missing them as much as I. I’m only a little embarrassed to say that I talk to her out loud, secure in the belief that she understands me, if not the actual words. I know I understand her, if not the actual barks.

Our timing is perfect, because we meet a neighbor walking Bernie, a five-year-old golden who lives two blocks away. Tara and Bernie love each other; their joy every time they meet is obvious and terrific to watch. I’m especially pleased because Willie and I rescued Bernie three years ago and placed him in his current home. He’s a great dog.

When we get home, I swear Tara looks at me with gratitude, and with the silent message that we should do this more often.

We should. And we will.