The Concrete Blonde

16

The courtroom seemed as silent as a dead man’s heart while Bosch walked behind the plaintiff and defendant tables and in front of the jury box to get to the witness stand. After taking the oath he gave his full name and the clerk asked him to spell it.

“H-I-E-R-O-N-Y-M-U-S B-O-S-C-H.”

Then the judge turned it over to Belk.

“Tell us a little bit about yourself, Detective Bosch, about your career.”

“I’ve been a police officer nearly twenty years. I currently am assigned to the homicide table at Hollywood Division. Before that-”

“Why do they call it a table?”

Jesus, Bosch thought.

“Because it’s like a table. It is six small desks pushed together to make a long table, three detectives on each side. It’s always called a table.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Before this assignment I spent eight years in Robbery-Homicide Division’s Homicide Special squad. Before that I was a detective on the homicide table in North Hollywood and robbery and burglary tables in Van Nuys. I was on patrol about five years, mostly in the Hollywood and Wilshire divisions.”

Belk slowly led him through his career up until the time he was on the Dollmaker task force. The questioning was slow and boring-even to Bosch, and it was his life. Every now and then he would look at the jurors when he answered a question and only a few seemed to be looking at him or paying attention. Bosch felt nervous and his palms were damp. He had testified in court at least a hundred times. But never like this, in his own defense. He felt hot though he knew the courtroom was overly cool.

“Now where was the task force physically located?”

“We used a second-floor storage room at the Hollywood station. It was an evidence and file storage room. We temporarily moved that stuff out into a rented trailer and used the room. We also had a room at Parker Center. The night shift, which I was on, generally worked out of Hollywood.”

“You were closer to the source, correct?”

“We thought so, yes. Most of the victims were taken from Hollywood streets. Many were later found in the area.”

“So you wanted to be able to act quickly on tips and leads and being right there in the center of things helped you do that, correct?”

“Correct.”

“On the night you got the call from the woman named Dixie McQueen, how did you get that call?”

“She called in on nine one one and when the dispatcher realized what she was talking about, the call was transferred out to the task force in Hollywood.”

“Who answered it?”

“I did.”

“Why is that? I thought you testified you were the supervisor of the night shift. Didn’t they have people answering phones?”

“Yes, we had people, but this call came in late. Everybody had left for the night. I was only there because I was bringing the Chronological Investigation Record up to date-we had to turn it in at the end of each week. I was the only one there. I answered.”

“When you went to meet this woman, why didn’t you call for a backup?”

“She hadn’t told me enough over the phone to convince me there was anything to it. We were getting dozens of calls a day. None of them amounted to anything. I have to admit I went to take her report not believing it would amount to anything.”

“Well, if you thought that, Detective, why did you go to her? Why not just take her information over the phone?”

“The main reason was that she said she didn’t know the address she had been to with this man, but could show me the place if I drove her down Hyperion. Also, there seemed to be something genuine about her complaint, you know? It seemed that something had definitely scared her. I was about to head home so I thought I would just check it out on the way.”

“Tell us what happened after you got to Hyperion.”

“When we got there we could see lights on in the apartment over the garage. We even saw a shadow pass across one of the windows. So we knew the guy was still there. That’s when Miss McQueen told me about the makeup she saw in the cabinet under the sink.”

“What did that mean to you?”

“A lot. It immediately got my attention because we had never said in the press that the killer was keeping the victims’ makeup. It had leaked that he was painting their faces but not that he also kept their makeup. So when she told me she had seen this collection of makeup, it all clicked. It gave what she said some immediate legitimacy.”

Bosch drank some water from a paper cup the marshal had filled for him earlier.

“Okay, what did you do next?” Belk said.

“It occurred to me that in the time it had taken her to call me and for me to pick her up and get back to Hyperion, he could have gone out and gotten another victim. So I knew there was a good chance there was another woman up there in danger. I went up. I ran up.”

“Why didn’t you call for backup?”

“First of all, I did not believe there was time to wait even five minutes for backup. If he had another woman in there, five minutes could mean her life. Secondly, I did not have a rover with me. I couldn’t make the call even if I wanted to-”

“A rover?”

“A portable radio. Detectives usually take them on assignment. Problem is, there are not enough of them to go around. And since I was going home I didn’t want to take one because I wasn’t coming back until the next evening shift. That would mean one less rover available during the next day.”

“So you couldn’t radio for backup. What about a phone?”

“It was a residential neighborhood. I could drive out and find a pay phone or knock on somebody’s door. It was about oneA.M. and I didn’t think people would open their doors quickly to a single man claiming to be a police officer. Everything was a question of time. I didn’t believe I had any. I had to go up by myself.”

“What happened?”

“Believing someone was in imminent danger, I went through the door without knocking. I was holding my gun out.”

“Kicked it open?”

“Yes.”

“What did you see?”

“First of all, I announced myself. I yelled, ‘Police.’ I moved a few steps into the room-it was a studio apartment-and I saw the man later identified as Church standing next to the bed. It was a foldout bed from a couch.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was standing there naked, next to the bed.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No.”

“What next?”

“I yelled something along the lines of ‘Freeze’ or ‘Don’t move’ and took another step into the room. At first he didn’t move. Then he suddenly reached down to the bed and his hand swept under the pillow. I yelled, ‘No,’ but he continued the movement. I could see his arm move as if his hand had grasped something and he started bringing the hand out. I fired one time. It killed him.”

“How far away from him would you say you were?”

“I was twenty feet away. It was one big room. We were at opposite sides of it.”

“And did he die instantly?”

“Very quickly. He dropped across the bed. The autopsy later showed the bullet entered under the right arm-the one he was reaching under the pillow with-and crossed through the chest. It hit his heart and both lungs.”

“After he was down, what did you do?”

“I went to the bed and checked to see if he was alive. He was still alive at that point, so I handcuffed him. He died a few moments later. I lifted the pillow. There was no gun.”

“What was there?”

Looking directly at Chandler, Bosch said, “Great mystery of life, he had been reaching for a toupee.”

Chandler had her head down and was busy writing but she stopped and looked up at him and their eyes locked momentarily until she said, “Objection, Your Honor.”

The judge agreed to strike Bosch’s comment about the mystery of life. Belk asked a few more questions about the shooting scene and then moved on to the investigation of Church.

“You were no longer part of that, correct?”

“No, as is routine I was assigned desk duty while my actions in the shooting were investigated.”

“Well, were you made aware of the results of the task force’s investigation into Church’s background?”

“Generally. Because I had a stake in the outcome, I was kept informed.”

“What did you learn?”

“That the makeup found in the bathroom cabinet was tied to nine of the victims.”

“Did you ever have any doubts yourself or hear of any doubts from other investigators as to whether Norman Church was responsible for the deaths of those women?”

“For those nine? No, no doubts at all. Ever.”

“Well, Detective Bosch, you heard Mr. Wieczorek testify about being with Mr. Church on the night the eleventh victim, Shirleen Kemp, was killed. You saw the videotape presented as evidence. Didn’t that raise any doubts?”

“It does about that case. But Shirleen Kemp was not among the nine whose makeup was found in Church’s apartment. There is no doubt in my mind or in anybody’s on the task force that Church killed those nine women.”

Chandler objected to Bosch speaking for the rest of the task force and the judge sustained it. Belk changed the subject, not wanting to venture any further into the area of victims seven and eleven. His strategy was to avoid any reference to a second killer, leaving that to Chandler to take a swing at on cross-examination, if she wanted to.

“You were disciplined for not going in with backup. Do you feel the department handled the matter correctly?”

“No.”

“How so?”

“As I explained, I did not believe I had a choice in what I did. If I had to do it again-even knowing I would be transferred as a result-I would do the same thing. I would have to. If there had been another woman in there, another victim, and I had saved her, I probably would have been promoted.”

When Belk didn’t immediately ask a follow-up question, Bosch continued.

“I believe the transfer was a political necessity. The bottom line was, I shot an unarmed man. It did not matter that the man I shot was a serial killer, a monster. Besides, I was carrying baggage from-”

“That will be fine-”

“Run-ins with-”

“Detective Bosch.”

Bosch stopped. He had made his point.

“So what you are saying is you don’t have any regrets about what happened in the apartment, correct?”

“No, that’s not correct.”

This apparently surprised Belk. He looked down at his notes. He had asked a question he expected a different reply to. But he realized he had to follow through.

“What do you regret?”

“That Church made that move. He drew the fire. There was nothing I could do but respond. I wanted to stop the killings. I didn’t want to kill him to do that. But that’s the way it turned out. It was his play.”

Belk showed his relief by breathing heavily into the microphone before saying he had no further questions.

Judge Keyes said there would be a ten-minute break before cross-examination began. Bosch returned to the defense table, where Belk whispered that he thought they had done well. Bosch didn’t respond.

“I think everything is going to ride on her cross. If you can get through it without heavy damage I think we’ve got it.”

“What about when she brings up the follower, introduces the note?”

“I don’t see how she can. If she does, she’ll be flying blind.”

“No, she won’t. She’s got a source in the department. Someone fed her stuff about the note.”

“I’ll ask for a sidebar conference if it gets to that point.”

That wasn’t very encouraging. Bosch looked at the clock, trying to gauge whether he had time for a smoke. He didn’t think so and got up and went back to the witness stand. He passed behind Chandler, who was writing on a legal pad.

“Great mystery of life,” she said without looking up.

“Yeah,” Bosch said without looking back at her.

As he sat and waited, he saw Bremmer come in, followed by the guy from theDaily News and a couple of wire service reporters. Somebody had put out the word that the top act was about to begin. Cameras were not allowed in federal court, so one of the stations had sent a sketch artist over.

From the witness seat, Bosch watched Chandler working. He guessed she was writing out questions for him. Deborah Church sat next to her with her hands folded on the table, her eyes averted from Bosch. A minute later the door to the jury room opened and the jurors filed into the box. Then the judge came out. Bosch took a deep breath and got ready as Chandler walked to the lectern with her yellow pad.

“Mr. Bosch,” she began, “how many people have you killed?”

Belk immediately objected and asked for a sidebar. The attorneys and the court reporter moved to the side of the bench and whispered for five minutes. Bosch only heard bits and pieces, most of it from Belk, who was loudest. At one point he argued that one shooting only was in dispute-the Church slaying-and all others were irrelevant. He heard Chandler say that the information was relevant because it illustrated the mind-set of the defendant. Bosch couldn’t hear the judge’s response but after the attorneys and reporter were back in place, the judge said, “The defendant will answer the question.”

“I can’t,” Bosch replied.

“Detective Bosch, the court is ordering you to answer.”

“I can’t answer it, Judge. I don’t know how many people I’ve killed.”

“You served in combat in Vietnam?” Chandler asked.

“Yes.”

“What were your duties?”

“Tunnel rat. I went into the enemy’s tunnels. Sometimes this resulted in direct confrontation. Sometimes I used explosives to destroy tunnel complexes. It’s impossible for me to know how many people were in them.”

“Okay, Detective, since you finished your duties with the armed services and became a police officer, how many people have you killed?”

“Three, including Norman Church.”

“Can you tell us about the two incidents not involving Mr. Church? In general.”

“Yes, one was before Church, the other after. The first time I killed someone it was during a murder investigation. I went to question a man I thought was a witness. Turned out he was the killer. When I knocked on the door, he fired a shot through it. Missed me. I kicked the door open and went in. I heard him running toward the rear of the house. I followed him to the yard, where he was climbing over a fence. As he was about to go over, he twisted around to take another shot at me. I fired first and he went down.

“The second time, this was after Church, I was involved in a murder and robbery investigation with the FBI. There was a shoot-out between two suspects and myself and my partner at the time, an FBI agent. I killed one of the suspects.”

“So in those two cases, the men you killed were armed?”

“That is correct.”

“Three shootings involving deaths, that is quite a lot, even for a twenty-year veteran, isn’t it?”

Bosch waited a beat for Belk to make an objection but the fat man was too busy writing on his tablet. He had missed it.

“Um, I know twenty-year cops who have never even had to draw their guns, and I know some that have been involved in as many as seven deaths. It’s a matter of what kind of cases you draw, it’s a matter of luck.”

“Good luck or bad luck?”

This time Belk objected and the judge sustained it. Chandler quickly went on.

“After you killed Mr. Church while he was unarmed, did you feel badly about it?”

“Not really. Not until I got sued and heard you were the lawyer.”

There was laughter in the courtroom and even Honey Chandler smiled. After he had quieted the room with a sharp rebuke from his gavel, the judge instructed Bosch to keep his answers on point and to refrain from personal asides.

“No bad feelings,” Bosch said. “Like I said before, I would rather have taken Church alive than dead. But I wanted to take him off the street, either way.”

“But you set the whole thing up, tactically, so that it had to end in his permanent removal, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. Nothing was set up. Things just happened.”

Bosch knew better than to show any anger toward her. Rather than make angry denouncements, the rule of thumb was to answer each question as if he was dealing with a person who was simply mistaken.

“You were, however, satisfied that Mr. Church had been killed while unarmed, nude, totally defenseless?”

“Satisfaction doesn’t enter into it.”

“Your Honor,” Chandler said. “May I approach the witness with an exhibit? It’s marked plaintiff’s 3A.”

She handed copies of a piece of paper to Belk and the judge’s clerk, who handed it over the bench to the judge. While the judge was reading it, Belk went to the lectern and objected.

“Your Honor, if this is offered as impeachment, I don’t see how it is valid. These are the words of a psychiatrist, not my client.”

Chandler moved to the microphone and said, “Judge, if you look in the section marked Summary, the last paragraph is what I would like to be read by the witness. You will also notice that the defendant signed the statement at the bottom.”

Judge Keyes read some more, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “I’ll accept it. You may show it to the witness.”

Chandler brought another copy up to Bosch and placed it in front of him without looking at him. Then she walked back to the lectern.

“Can you tell us what that is, Detective Bosch?”

“It’s a confidential psychological release form. Supposedly confidential, I guess I should say.”

“Yes, and what does it relate to?”

“My release allowing me to return to duty after the Church shooting. It is routine to be interviewed by the department’s psychiatrist after being involved in a shooting. Then he clears you to return to duty.”

“You must know him well.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ms. Chandler, that’s not necessary,” Judge Keyes said before Belk got up.

“No, Your Honor. Strike that. You were cleared to return to duty-to your new assignment in Hollywood-after the interview, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Isn’t it true that this is really nothing more than a rubber-stamp process? The psychiatrist never holds an officer back from returning on psychiatric grounds?”

“No on the first question. I don’t know on the second.”

“Well, let me turn it around. Have you ever heard of an officer being held back by the psychiatric interview?”

“No, I haven’t. They’re supposed to be confidential so I doubt I would hear anything anyway.”

“Will you please read the last paragraph of the summary section on the report in front of you?”

“Yes.”

He picked up the paper and began reading. Silently.

“Out loud, Detective Bosch,” she said in an exasperated tone. “I thought that was implicit in the question.”

“Sorry. It says: ‘Through his war and police experiences, most notably including the aforementioned shooting resulting in fatality, the subject has to a high degree become desensitized to violence. He speaks in terms of violence or the aspect of violence being an accepted part of his day-to-day life, for all of his life. Therefore, it is unlikely that what transpired previously will act as a psychological deterrent should he again be placed in circumstances where he must act with deadly force in order to protect himself or others. I believe he will be able to act without delay. He will be able to pull the trigger. In fact, his conversation reveals no ill effects at all from the shooting, unless his sense of satisfaction with the outcome of the incident-the suspect’s death-should be deemed inappropriate.’”

Bosch put the paper down. He noticed the entire jury was looking at him now. He had no idea whether the report was highly damaging or helpful to his cause.

“The subject of that report is you, correct?” Chandler asked.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“You just testified that there was no satisfaction, but the report by the psychiatrist said you did feel a sense of satisfaction with the outcome of the incident. Which is right?”

“Those are his words on the report, not mine. I don’t think I would have said that.”

“What would you have said?”

“I don’t know. Not that.”

“Then why did you sign the release form?”

“I signed it because I wanted to get back to work. If I was going to argue with him about what words he used, I was never going to get back to work.”

“Tell me, Detective, did the psychiatrist who examined you and made that report know about your mother?”

Bosch hesitated.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I didn’t tell him. I don’t know if he would have had the information previously.”

He could hardly concentrate on his words, for his mind was scrambling.

“What happened to your mother?”

He looked directly at Chandler for a long moment before answering. She didn’t look away.

“As was testified to earlier, she was killed. I was eleven. It happened in Hollywood.”

“And no one was ever arrested, correct?”

“That is correct. Can we go on to something else? This has already been testified about.”

Bosch looked over at Belk who got the point and stood up and objected to Chandler’s repetitive line of questioning.

“Detective Bosch, do you want a break?” Judge Keyes asked. “To sort of calm down a little?”

“No, Judge, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I can’t restrict proper cross-examination. The objection is overruled.”

The judge nodded to Chandler.

“I’m sorry to ask such personal questions, but, after she was gone, did your father raise you?”

“You’re not sorry. You-”

“Detective Bosch!” the judge boomed. “We cannot have this. You must answer the questions asked of you. Say nothing else. Just answer the questions.”

“No. I never knew my father. I was put in the youth hall and then foster homes.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“So the man who strangled your mother not only took the one closest to you, he destroyed much of your life at that point?”

“I’d say so.”

“Did the crime have something to do with your becoming a policeman?”

Bosch found he could no longer look at the jury. He knew his face had turned red. And he felt as if he were dying under a magnifying glass.

“I don’t know. I never really analyzed myself to that extent.”

“Did it have something to do with the satisfaction you felt in killing Mr. Church?”

“As I said before, if there was any satisfaction-you keep using that word-it was that I was satisfied with closing the case. To use your word, the man was a monster. He was a killer. I was satisfied we stopped him, wouldn’t you be?”

“You’re answering the questions, Detective Bosch,” Chandler said. “The question I now have is, did you stop the killings? All of them?”

Belk jumped up and asked for a sidebar conference. The judge said to the jurors, “We’re going to take that break now after all. We’ll call you back when we’re ready.”