The Jury

chapter six

Jimmy de Angelo is forty-seven, a former street cop turned detective. He has the dour expression and heavy-hooded eyes of a man whose business is death. De Angelo has spent a decade and a half working homicide, and he finds refuge in physical conditioning; the man’s body does not look as if it should belong to the furrowed face with sad eyes that rests upon its shoulders.

He has the upper body of an NFL linebacker, with a waist that tapers to thirty-four inches and biceps that move like boa constrictors under the arms of his tight sport coat.

De Angelo worked his way up to lieutenant through Vice and did undercover with the narcs before that. He has more than two hundred homicide cases under his belt, everything from winos clubbed in alleys to the abduction and murder of a local software magnate. He has held hands with snitches to get rollover benefits in murder-for-hire cases and has served on the local violent-crimes task force with state and federal agents. He has instincts and can feel his way around the hairy underbelly of crime even when it is not possible to see very well. De Angelo has driven much of the case against my client based on feelings; call it a cop’s intuition.

This morning Tannery has him on the stand, fleshing out the grisly details of Kalista Jordan’s murder and the discovery of body parts on the Silver Strand, the closest thing they have to the scene of the crime.

“We figure the killer used a plastic bag to dump the body, but it didn’t stay together,” says de Angelo. “Either the surf opened it up, or maybe rocks, or sharks. We can’t be sure.”

“Did you find evidence that the victim’s torso had been mauled by sharks?”

“No. But there were some ragged pieces of black plastic caught under a cord that was wrapped around her neck. The one used to tie the plastic around the body.”

“So that we don’t confuse the jury, you’re not talking about the nylon cable tie used to strangle the victim?”

“No. That was underneath the plastic we think was wrapped around the body. We believe that plastic of some kind had been tied around the body, probably to conceal it until it went into the water, and something ripped it off.”

“And all that was ever recovered was the victim’s torso and head?”

“And one arm,” says de Angelo. He has an advantage over most of the other witnesses. He has a permanent seat at the prosecution counsel’s table as the authorized representative of the state and has heard all the earlier testimony to this point.

“Lieutenant de Angelo, have you ever had occasion to investigate any other homicides in which the victim has been dismembered in this way?”

“If you mean arms and legs severed, the answer is yes. If you mean cut up in the way that this victim was, the answer’s no.”

“There was something unique about this case?”

“Objection. The witness is not a medical doctor.”

“But he has experience investigating similar cases,” says Tannery. “How many cases involving dismemberment have you done, Lieutenant?” He doesn’t wait for the judge to make a ruling, and Coats lets him get away with it.

“Eight.”

“In fact, your department has seen enough of these kinds of cases, dismemberment and disposal in the ocean or the harbor, that they have a name for them, don’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“And what is that name, Lieutenant?”

“Jigsaw Jane, or John, depending on gender,” says de Angelo. “Usually you find heads bobbing in the water.”

One of the older guys on the jury, a retired navy demolition expert, sniggers and covers his mouth with his hand. His forearm under the hair is a mosaic of tattoos. The women on the panel do not smile; instead, they are looking at my client for a reaction. Crone offers none. He is busy as always, taking notes.

“I believe, Mr. Tannery, that there was an objection. I’ll overrule it, allow the witness to answer the question.” Coats has not even lost his place.

But de Angelo has. “What was the question?”

“Was there something unique about the dismemberment of Kalista Jordan, say from the other cases you’ve seen?” asks Tannery.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. Yeah, there was.”

“And what was that?”

“Two things, really. The legs and arms were severed cleanly at the joints. And the head was still connected to the torso.”

“Let’s take the legs and arms first,” says Tannery. “Did you draw any conclusions from the manner in which these were severed?”

“We did. There was a kind of surgical nature to the dismemberment. We concluded that the person or persons who did it knew what they were doing. We believe that they probably had some special training.”

“Objection.”

“Overruled,” says Coats.

“What kind of training?” asks Tannery.

“They knew something about medical science, particularly anatomy. Might have had at least minimal experience dissecting or performing surgery on the human body.”

“Are you saying that it is likely that the perpetrator was a medical doctor?”

“It’s possible,” says de Angelo.

Tannery looks toward our table and Dr. Crone who doesn’t even suspend his note taking to lift his gaze.

“You said there was something else unusual about this case, something having to do with the victim’s head?”

“Yeah. It was still attached to the body,” says de Angelo. “We wondered why. Usually, if a perpetrator goes to all the trouble to cut off arms and legs, he’s. .”

“Objection. Assumes facts not in evidence.” I’m into it before he can finish.

“Restate your answer,” says the judge.

De Angelo gives the D.A. a blank stare. He doesn’t understand the problem.

“It assumes a male perpetrator,” says Tannery.

“Oh.” He thinks for a second. “We assume they go to all that trouble, whoever it is”-he looks directly at me for emphasis-“is gonna take the head off, too. But here they don’t. You have to wonder why?”

“Why would you assume they’d cut off the head?”

“Why do they go to all the trouble to cut up the body in the first place?” says de Angelo. “Because they’re trying to make it difficult to identify. You take off the hands, there’s no fingerprints assuming the hands aren’t found. You take off the head, it makes it that much harder. But they didn’t here.”

“I see. And you don’t have an answer as to why?”

De Angelo shakes his head. “It’s just unusual. Doesn’t fit the normal pattern. If anything like this can be called normal,” he says. “So we thought whoever killed Kalista Jordan was trying to do a copycat.”

“Can you explain for the jury?” asks Tannery.

De Angelo turns toward the box. “There were two murders almost three years ago now. The bodies of two women were dumped in the harbor. We found the torsos with the heads attached. Arms and legs had been cut off. It was in all the papers. Those cases got a lot of publicity because it looked like a serial murder. Papers always pick up on that,” he says.

“Unfortunately, sometimes it becomes an invitation for somebody who’s looking for an opportunity. You get a person, wants to kill his wife, or his girlfriend. He sees the article. So he tries to make it look like the same M.O. They copycat it. Usually they don’t succeed.”

“And why is that?”

“Little details,” says de Angelo. “Things we never disclose to the media. For example, in this case, the earlier jigsaws, out in the harbor. They were in fact done with saws. Bones cut right through like a butcher would do it with a saw. We found tool marks from the teeth of a saw blade. Probably a hacksaw. But that wasn’t done in this case.”

“You’re talking about Kalista Jordan?”

“Right. Here, the amputation of the arms and legs was done clean, at the joints. Somebody knew right where to go, and they used a sharp instrument to get all the ligaments and tendons.”

“And this clean amputation, at the joints, is what causes you to believe that the killer possibly had medical training?”

“Correct.”

“Therefore, you don’t believe these earlier cases are related?” Tannery is driving a wedge, anticipating that we may try to defend using the age-old SODDI, Some Other Dude Did It, in this case some crazed serial killer. If we could produce an alibi for Crone in the earlier cases, this would present complications for the state.

“No. But we think that’s why the killer left the head attached. Because it was reported in the press in the earlier two cases. It was also reported that the arms and legs were not attached to the bodies, but there was no report as to how this was done. The killer screwed up,” says de Angelo. “And it wasn’t the only mistake they made.”

“What else?”

“We don’t want to get into too many details. The other two murders are still open.”

“Unsolved?”

“That’s right.”

“But there are other discrepancies?”

“One in particular,” says de Angelo. “The use of cable ties around the victim’s throat. It was reported in the earlier cases that the victims were strangled with a nylon ligature and that a similar nylon tie was probably used to bind the hands and feet. In those cases, we found a set of arms and hands. They floated up on the beach. These were tied together at the wrist. The item used to tie these was referred to as, and I quote, ‘a nylon tie,’ in one of the local papers. Actually it was a piece of nylon rope. The paper was using the word tie in the general sense,” he says. “We didn’t correct it because we didn’t want to get into the details. We think that whoever killed Kalista Jordan read that newspaper article and assumed that a nylon cable tie was used.”

“In other words, they tried to copycat and got it wrong?” says Tannery.

“That appears to be the case.”

“Let’s talk about the cable tie, the one found around Dr. Jordan’s neck. Did you have an opportunity to examine that cable tie?”

“I did.”

“Was it still affixed to the body when you first observed it?”

“It was.”

“Did you remove it?”

“No. The coroner, at the time of the autopsy, removed it.”

“Was there anything unique about this particular cable tie?”

“It was an industrial tie, if that’s what you mean. It was heavy-duty. Used for bundling things together. Almost anything,” he says. “Old newspapers. Stacks of rags. Industry uses them a lot. Electricians would use these particular ones for bundling heavy loads of wire before they run ’em into a chase on large jobs. As I recall, that particular tie had a high tensile strength. Two hundred or two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“I believe Dr. Schwimmer said it was two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Then that would be right.”

“So this was not something that the average consumer could find in your ordinary hardware store. Is that what you’re telling us?”

“That’s right. You’d probably have to order it from an industrial supply house.”

“Do you know where this particular cable tie was purchased? The one found around the neck of Kalista Jordan?”

“No.”

“Were there any other similar cable ties found on the victim’s body?”

“No.”

“Did you have occasion to find other similar cable ties during the course of your investigation in this case?”

“I did.”

“And where did you find these?

“I found two other cable ties. The same length, and width. In fact, after examining them we determined that these two ties appeared to be identical in all respects to the cable tie found around the neck of the victim, Kalista Jordan. We found these in the pocket of a sport coat belonging to the defendant, Dr. David Crone.”

There are a few murmurs in the audience, and the judge slaps his gavel.

Tannery treks to the evidence cart and comes back with two clear plastic bags. He has the witness identify the first one.

“Do you recognize the contents of that bag?”

“I do. It’s the cable tie that was removed from around Kalista Jordan’s neck during the autopsy, the ligature used to strangle her.”

“Are those your initials on the evidence bag?”

De Angelo takes a closer look. “They are. And the date that I placed it in the bag and sealed it, at the coroner’s office.”

“This second bag, I ask you to look at it. Are those your initials on the bag?”

“They are.”

“And what is in this bag, Lieutenant?”

“The cable ties that we found in the pocket of Dr. Crone’s sport coat.”

“And where was that coat when you found these two ties?”

“It was hanging in a closet near the front door, the entrance to the defendant’s house.”

De Angelo tells the jury about the search, that they’d turned the house upside down, found the cable ties in the pocket of what they later discovered from co-workers was Crone’s favorite coat, a herringbone tweed with large patch pockets, and leather on the elbows. Tannery produces the sport coat from the evidence cart, and the witness identifies it.

“Now when you found this sport coat, which pocket were the cable ties in? You found this yourself, I take it?”

“I did. The nylon ties were in the left side pocket.”

“Did you find anything else in the coat?”

“A set of keys. To the defendant’s car.”

“What else?”

“A cash register receipt.”

Tannery takes another trip to the evidence cart, fumbles with a few envelopes until he finds the one he wants, looks inside, then asks the judge if he can approach the witness.

Coats motions him on.

“Lieutenant, I would ask you to look at the receipt in this envelope and tell us whether you recognize it?”

De Angelo takes out a small white slip of paper, looks at it, then nods. “It’s the one I found in the defendant’s sport coat pocket.”

“Can you tell the jury what that receipt is for?”

“It’s a cash register receipt from the university dining room. U.C.” he says. “Dated April third for. .”

“Stop right there. April third. Isn’t that the day before Kalista Jordan disappeared?”

“That evening,” says de Angelo. “The receipt is time-stamped at seven fifty-six P.M. We checked, and the clock in the cash register is accurate. It is maintained.”

Tannery has closed the loop, made the connection between the earlier testimony of Carol Hodges, who saw Crone arguing with the victim in the faculty dining room the night before she vanished. He has done this in a way that causes maximum damage, with a document that puts Crone there, date- and time-stamped, sharing the same garment with the incriminating cable ties.

Several jurors are taking notes. Like a dazing blow to the chin, Tannery has scored points and he knows it. He takes his time, allowing the testimony to settle in for full effect.

“Now when you searched the defendant’s house, did you find anything else?”

“We did. We found a tensioning tool.”

Tannery retreats to the evidence cart once more, and when he returns to the witness stand, he is holding a metal tool. It looks like a large pistol with a long trigger-like grip in front of the handle. There is an evidence tag wired to it.

“Do you recognize this item, Lieutenant?”

De Angelo takes it, looks at the evidence tag. “That’s the tensioning tool we found in the defendant’s garage.”

“Do you know what it’s used for?”

“Yes. For tightening cable ties.”

“Like the ones in these evidence bags?”

“That’s right.”

“Where exactly did you find this particular tensioning tool?”

“It was underneath a workbench in the garage, covered up with a small piece of carpet.”

“Did you have an opportunity to test this particular tool to determine whether it worked properly?”

“I did.”

“And did it work?”

“It did. We tested it in the crime lab. Using cable ties similar to those in the evidence bag, we determined that it was possible to achieve tension at over two hundred pounds per square inch using the tool.”

Now Tannery has the tool, the cable ties and Crone’s sport coat marked for identification and moves that they be admitted into evidence. We don’t object.

“How many cases of homicide by strangulation have you investigated in your career?” asks Tannery.

“A good number.”

“More than twenty?”

“Oh yes.”

“More than fifty?”

“Maybe fifty.”

“So you have some experience.”

“Yes.”

“In your professional opinion, would the tension applied by that tool, the tensioning tool in evidence, be sufficient to strangle a person to death?”

“Easily,” says de Angelo.

“Would it be enough to account for a deep ligature furrow of the kind found around the neck of Kalista Jordan?”

“I would say so. Yes.”

Tannery nods to himself as he paces a little, between his counsel table and a rostrum set up in front of the bench where his notes are.

“Your witness,” says Tannery.

Here the game is to whittle away at the edges. I start with de Angelo’s credentials as an expert.

“Lieutenant, you say you’ve investigated perhaps as many as fifty homicide cases involving strangulation. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Not all of those were murder, though, were they?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean a good number of them were suicides?”

“Oh.” He thinks about this for a moment. “I suppose.”

“Have you ever investigated a case of murder in which the weapon was a nylon cable tie?”

“No. Not to my recollection.”

“So, in fact, this is the first time you’ve ever seen a case exactly like this?”

“Every case is different,” he says.

“Still you never investigated a case involving strangulation with a cable tie. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Yet you’re willing to assume that a tensioning tool was used in this case?”

“Something was used to gain leverage,” says de Angelo. “The killer didn’t tighten that cable tie with his hands alone. Too much tension,” he says.

“Yes, but does that mean he used a tensioning tool?”

“It seems like a likely possibility to me,” he says.

“But that’s all it is, a possibility.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Let me ask you, Lieutenant, do you know for a fact that a tensioning tool was used to tighten the cable tie around the neck of Kalista Jordan?”

“Like I said, it’s likely. .”

“I didn’t ask you what was likely. I asked you if you knew for a fact whether such a tool was used.”

“No.”

“So it is only surmise, an assumption on your part, the part of your investigating team, that such a tool was even used in this case?”

“Something was used to gain leverage. It seems natural that it would have been a tool designed for that purpose.”

“Isn’t it possible that the loose end of the cable tie could have been wrapped around a stick, a piece of wood, maybe a short metal rod, and that this could have been used as a handle to gain leverage?”

“It’d be awkward,” says de Angelo.

“Still, it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“It’s possible. Anything’s possible.” It is all the concession I need.

“So as you sit here today, you don’t know with certainty whether that tool, the one in evidence, or for that matter any tensioning tool was used in this case, do you?”

“There’s not much in life that any of us know with absolute certainty,” he says.

“That’s not an answer to my question. Do you know with certainty whether that tool or any similar tool was used to kill Kalista Jordan?”

“No.”

Harry and I could have objected to this evidence, the tensioning tool, at the preliminary hearing before the trial, where Crone was bound over. We didn’t. It was a tactical decision. Now the state has relied on a piece of evidence that they cannot tie to the crime. Nor can they prove that a similar device was used. Voids like this can be filled later with reasonable doubt during our closing argument.

“You testified earlier that this particular cable tie, the one taken from around the neck of the victim, is unusual, that you wouldn’t expect to find it in your local hardware store. Is that right?”

“I think I said it was heavy-duty,” says de Angelo.

“Would you like me to have the record read back?” I ask him.

“I may have said it would be difficult to find.”

“In fact you stated that you couldn’t expect to find it in your ordinary hardware store, that you’d probably have to order it from an industrial supply house. Your words.” I’m reading from a legal notepad. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“I think so.”

“Are you telling us that cable ties of the kind used to kill Kalista Jordan are rare?”

“I don’t know how you define ‘rare,’” he says. “They’re not as common as lighter-weight cable ties,” he says.

“Would it surprise you if I told you I managed to purchase two dozen cable ties just like that one”-I point to the murder tie in the bag-“at five different stores right here in the San Diego area?” As I ask this, I am pointing to a large paper bag that Harry has picked up and placed in the center of our counsel table.

“Objection,” says Tannery. “Assumes facts not in evidence. Counsel’s trying to testify.”

“I only asked him whether he would be surprised.”

“I’ll allow the question,” says Coats.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, during the course of your investigation didn’t you check the local stores to determine whether this type of cable tie was readily available in the area?”

“We looked.”

“How many stores did you check?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Isn’t it a fact, Lieutenant, that you don’t know how many of these cable ties are sold in this area in a given week, or a month, or a year?”

De Angelo doesn’t respond.

“Objection. Compound question,” says Tannery. “Over what time frame?”

“Fine, let’s start with a week. Do you know how many cable ties like this are sold in this area in a week?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try monthly?” I ask.

I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t. So can the jury, several of whom are still looking at the bag on the counsel table.

“Do you know whether you might have a few cable ties like this one in your basement at home, Lieutenant?”

He doesn’t answer, but looks at me with a death wish.

“So you can’t tell us how rare they are?”

“I never said they were rare. That’s your word.”

“Fine.” I leave it alone. The cable ties aren’t rare. “Do you have any idea what these ties are used for? I mean besides strangling people.”

“Industrial uses.”

“For example?”

“Electrical wiring. To bundle up large groups of wires.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you need ’em for.”

“Do police ever use cable ties like these?”

He makes a face, thinks about it. “Sure. They might.”

“What for?”

“Crowd control. In lieu of handcuffs. Sometimes it’s necessary to use ties like that.”

“The same kind?”

“Probably lighter weight. They wouldn’t be that strong.”

“Fine. So there’s a lot of reasons people might keep cable ties on hand that have nothing to do with murder?”

“I suppose.”

“And also the tools to tighten them?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, isn’t it possible that a homeowner might keep ties like this, and a tensioning tool like that one in front of you, at home to tie up old newspapers, or bundle up trash, or to gather branches after pruning a tree?”

“I suppose.”

“I mean, are we all to assume that everybody who purchases cable ties intends to use them to strangle somebody?”

There is actually some giggling in the jury box with this question.

De Angelo doesn’t respond.

“Maybe we should license them like firearms,” I say.

“Objection.” Tannery’s on his feet.

“Sustained. Mr. Madriani.”

“Sorry, Your Honor.”

“Then it’s entirely possible that Dr. Crone had the tensioning tool in his house and the ties in his pocket for just such a legitimate purpose? To tie up newspapers, or bundle trash?”

“If you say so.”

“I’m asking you.”

“I suppose.”

“That’s all.”

“Redirect,” says the judge.

Tannery is on his feet before I can get out of the way. I seem to have provoked some ire. If he has a weakness, it is a fuse that is a little short for the courtroom.

“Lieutenant, can you tell the jury when you found the cable ties in the pocket of the sport coat belonging to the defendant? The precise date?” he says.

“It was April fifteenth.” This is on the tip of de Angelo’s tongue.

“That was two days after the victim’s body was found on the beach. Is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And the tensioning tool that you found in the defendant’s garage. Was it in plain view?”

“No.”

“I mean, was it hanging on a hook over the workbench with the other tools?”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“Did it appear to you that this tool was being concealed, hidden from view?”

“Objection.”

“Overruled,” says Coats.

“It did. It looked like somebody had pushed the tool to the back of the shelf under the workbench, and placed this piece of carpet over the top of it so you couldn’t see it.”

This begs the question why someone who has used a tool and cable ties to commit a cold, calculated murder would keep such evidence in his garage and in the pocket of his favorite sport coat in the closet. But these are questions better posed to the jury in our closing than to de Angelo on the stand, who no doubt would lecture me on the stupid things that perpetrators do, even perps who are highly educated.