A Cold Day in Hell Page 24

  This complicated dance goes on hundreds of times a day, every day, all across the country. A thousand little dramas battle out in the court system, some for things as mundane as a parking ticket, others for mass murders, but always the same no matter how the television crime shows warp the perception.

  It always starts with The People. The People versus David Ryan Spencer. And both sides were ready.

  Lauren sat ramrod straight in the hard wooden seat as the courtroom began to fill. First it was the court deputies, then the stenographer, the court clerks, some interns. The huge room shrunk with every person that came in, until it felt like she would suffocate from all the bodies pressed around her. This trial was the hottest ticket in town. And she had a ringside seat.

  “Is this chair taken?”

  Dressed in his lone gray “court” suit, Reese was standing in the aisle smiling down at her.

  Looking up in shock, Lauren asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Plunking himself down next to her, he tugged at his tie a little. “Supporting my partner. You really think after watching what you’ve gone through in this case I’m not going to see how it ends?”

  He was sitting next to her like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to put his career in jeopardy right along with hers. “What about work?”

  He shrugged. “I have vacation time.”

  Then he just looked forward, waiting for the trial to start, like everyone else. Even though the October day was cool, the angry hum of the air conditioners on full blast made it seem like the courtroom was a plane ready for takeoff, which in a way, it was.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He threw an elbow into her side. “Shut up. It’s about to start.”

  She sank back in her seat and shut up.

  72

  Absent from the courtroom was anyone who was going to testify: Anthony Vine, Jennifer Jackson, Joe Wheeler, the medical examiner. Witnesses were not allowed in the courtroom to hear other witnesses’ testimony. Somewhere in the courthouse, they were milling around, separated, waiting to be called.

  The jury was brought in and seated. Twelve unlucky souls and two alternates who had tried their damnest to get out of serving at any cost. Picking the jury had taken almost two days. Violanti had wanted all the young men he could get, who could identify with a horny teenager, while the prosecution wanted old ladies who would see a victimized mother. In the end, it was split pretty evenly. Neither side was completely satisfied, but then again, the system was set up so they never really were. The jurors listened raptly to the judge as he instructed them; this was the point in the trial where they were still interested. Their eyes would dart over to David every time the judge mentioned the defendant. After what seemed like an endless list of dos and don’ts, the judge announced that the people could make their opening statement.

  Carl Church took his time rising from his seat, holding a fountain pen in one hand, making his way toward the jury box. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” the DA began, standing straight and tall, impressing the jury with his cool demeanor and smooth baritone voice. “This case is simple. It’s not a whodunit. It’s not a television show with twists and turns and a surprise ending. Contrary to what the defense is going to hurl at you, the evidence will show a simple case. This case amounts to the evidence. It doesn’t lie, it has no agenda, it just is. And what the evidence will show is that the defendant and the victim were acquainted. She came into the toy store where he worked quite often. And that Katherine Vine, the victim, was a beautiful woman; the kind of woman men desire. And that’s what the defendant did, he desired her. The evidence will show that he pulled up her rewards club information two weeks before she was murdered. The evidence will show that information listed her address and her phone number. The evidence will show that on the night she was murdered, he called up that information again. He called her cell phone less than five minutes after she left the store. The physical evidence will show that the defendant had waited for his opportunity, the victim leaving her credit card behind, and jumped on it.”

  He turned and pointed the pen at David. “He brought it out to her car, forced his way inside, and raped her. When he was done, he strangled her with her own scarf, left her for dead, and casually walked away. I’m not going to go over every bit of evidence with you now; I’ll let the witnesses do that. And I’m confident that in the end you will see that there is no vast conspiracy. That the evidence is clear.” He leaned up against the jury box so they could get an up close view of his sincerest expression.

  Damn, Lauren thought, he really is good. Watching Church work the jury slammed home how tough this was going to be for Violanti. They can’t tear their eyes from him.

  “David Ryan Spencer worked in a toy store. Katherine Vine was a wealthy wife and mother, the beauty he couldn’t have and could never have. She was his fantasy. As soon as the chance made itself available, he got himself alone with her and he took her. He took her body and he took her life. He left a grieving husband and two little boys without a mother. Once you’ve heard all the evidence, I’m confident there is no other verdict than guilty. Guilty on all counts, it’s that simple.”

  Church walked briskly back to the prosecution’s table as Frank Violanti jumped up. Church was known for his openings and closings. He liked to make a short forceful opening and a point-by-point closing. Violanti had said he planned on mirroring that strategy for his own case. He ran his hands over his suit, took a deep breath, and looked at the jury.

  “Mr. Church is one hundred percent right: this case is simple. I agree that the evidence will show that. What I don’t agree with is that it will point to my client as the killer. Ladies and gentlemen, I submit to you, what is more simple a motive than jealousy? Or money? Or greed? Because that’s the motive we’re talking about here. You are going to hear from a lot of witnesses in this trial. A lot. But the one person who won’t take the stand is David Spencer. Why, you may ask? Because David already gave a sworn statement and told the truth. Just hours after Katherine’s body was discovered, he was making a voluntary statement to the police, which you will hear. There’s no need to put him on the stand because the truth doesn’t change.

  “My client had sex with Katherine Vine in her car. Consensual sex. When they were done, he left and she was alive. He told that to the detectives less than six hours after her body was found. My client gave a full, honest, and complete statement to police. He freely gave a swab of his DNA. Why? Because he had nothing to hide. What would be David’s motive to kill Katherine Vine? I know what Anthony Vine’s motive would be. To get her out of the way so he could continue his affair with tennis star Jennifer Jackson. To get her out of the way so he wouldn’t have to pay her a fortune once she sought a divorce. Anthony Vine knew where his wife was every second of every day. Katherine Vine had a tracking device on her car. The evidence will show that. And Anthony Vine saw his opportunity to get rid of her as soon as he saw David walk away from her car. And now that man would let a teenager go to jail for his crimes.

  “Ladies and gentleman, I’m glad he brought up the evidence. Look at it carefully. It will show who the killer is. Absolutely. But that killer is not David Ryan Spencer.”

  When Violanti was seated again, Lauren watched David lean over and whisper something to him. Violanti reached over and gripped his godson’s arm lightly, replying in an equally quiet tone. Lauren narrowed her eyes on the lawyer and the boy, who looked older to her now despite his comically large suit. What were they talking about?

  The judge looked from one counselor to the next. He nodded to himself and then declared, “Mr. Church, call your first witness.”

  73

  The first few witnesses in a homicide trial usually just set the stage: the store manager, Julie Densmore, who found the body; the ambulance attendants who determined Katherine Vine to be dead at the scene and called the medical examiner’s office; th
e first officer at the scene. Violanti’s cross examination was sparse, as they had nothing terribly damning to say about David. They added the background needed to forge on with the rest of the case.

  It wasn’t until the end of the first day of the trial that DA Church started to get to the meat and potatoes of the case by putting the ME on.

  Church circled around the medical examiner, surely so the jury could see his face while the doctor testified. It was still early in the trial and Violanti knew the jury was focused and engaged and eager to hear what the ME had to say.

  Dr. Daniel Kogut was the county medical examiner and had been for twenty years. He was comfortable on the stand and confident in his examinations. Katherine Vine was strangled with her own white silk scarf, he testified. Besides the ligature mark to her neck, she had three bruises to her person, one on her left thigh, one on her upper right arm, and one on her left shoulder blade. She was in good health when she died, no abnormalities were observed. The doctor testified to these facts as they pertained to the autopsy he performed. He then explained the word asphyxia to the jurors and told them it was the cause of Katherine Vine’s death. She had been asphyxiated, the blood had been cut off to her brain. He explained how he had taken fingernail scrapings and submitted the swabs for DNA testing. He also had performed anal, oral, and vaginal swabs for the same purposes. He went over the photographs taken at the autopsy and reviewed his findings step by step. It was all very straightforward and routine.

  Then Violanti rose and approached the doctor. Dr. Kogut still looked calm and relaxed, wearing a navy golf shirt and dark pants, as if testifying was no more stressful than a round of golf. His white hair was neatly combed over his balding head and his brilliant white teeth screamed of being dentures. Violanti had two pictures in his hand.

  “Doctor, I know you just went over the autopsy photos with Mr. Church for the jury, so I only have a few questions for you. I want you to look at People’s exhibit 5A and 5B.” He handed the oversized pictures to the doctor. “Can you tell the jury what these pictures are of?”

  “Those are Katherine Vine’s hands at the time of her autopsy.”

  “And do they accurately depict the state of both her right and left hands?”

  “I would say so.”

  He took the photos back from the doctor. “Thank you.” He held them and looked down at them. “Doctor, you testified that you took fingernail scrapings from the victim during your autopsy. Is that correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “How many of Mrs. Vine’s fingernails were broken?”

  “What?” The doctor looked confused.

  Violanti asked his question again slowly, speaking each word with a deliberate calmness. “How many of Mrs. Vine’s fingernails, under which you found my client’s DNA, were broken off?”

  “None.”

  He held up both the photos to the jury. “None. So it’s fair to say that during this violent attack, not one of her perfectly manicured nails snapped off?”

  “None of her nails were broken.”

  “You testified that you found three bruises on the body. Can you tell the jury in layman’s terms how big each of those bruises were?”

  The ME flipped through the copy of the autopsy report he had brought with him to the stand. “The one on her forearm was the size of a nickel approximately. The one on her thigh the size of a quarter, and the one on her shoulder the size of a half dollar.”

  “Was there any bruising to the face or head?”

  “No.”

  “Any to the wrists? Like she was being held down?”

  “No.”

  Violanti leaned in for the jab. “Is it possible those bruises could have come from sex with an eager eighteen-year old boy?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” Church said. “Calls for speculation.”

  The judge nodded. “Rephrase the question.”

  Violanti smiled apologetically at the judge, then turned back to the doctor. “Could those bruises have been caused by something other than homicide?”

  “None of them were fatal.”

  “Were any of them even serious?”

  “Given their sizes, I would say no.”

  “Doctor”—Violanti brushed a piece of lint off his sleeve—“did you note any bite marks on the victim?”

  “No.”

  “Any scratches on her?”

  “None of significance.”

  “Interesting,” he muttered as if to himself, but it was for full effect on the jury. “Doctor, you testified that she died of asphyxia, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “By strangulation?”

  “Correct.”

  “With a ligature?” Violanti raised an eyebrow.

  “Correct.”

  “Was the hyoid bone broken in her neck?”

  “No.”

  Violanti feigned curiosity. “Isn’t it common in strangulations for the hyoid bone to be broken?”

  Doctor Kogut sat up straight and crossed his arms. “It’s not uncommon for it not to be.”

  Body language is everything, Violanti mused to himself. “And the blood vessels in her eyes were not broken, but yet she was asphyxiated?”

  The doctor sounded exasperated now. Violanti’s way of questioning was meant to grate on his nerves. “Yes, with the silk scarf found in the car. The silk fibers found on the body confirm that.”

  He was circling the doctor now, knowing he was getting under his skin. “So this was not a violent choking out? This was someone who slipped the scarf around her neck and slowly squeezed the flow of blood off to her brain.”

  “I don’t know if I would characterize it exactly as that.”

  “But you could.”

  The prosecutor called out, “Objection! Calls for a conclusion.”

  “Your Honor.” Violanti spread his hands wide. “This doctor has seen hundreds of murders and is an expert witness. I’m asking, in his professional opinion, how would he characterize the way Katherine Vine was asphyxiated.”

  The judge took a moment to consider the point, then motioned to the doctor. “You may answer the question.”

  The ME seemed to be searching for the right words. “In my professional opinion, the evidence points to a slower strangulation, but a strangulation none the less.”

  Violanti stepped back, let that sink into the jury’s collective brain, and smiled. “Thank you, Doctor. No more questions.”

  Church jumped up for the cross. “One question, doctor. Was Katherine Vine strangled with her own scarf?”

  “Yes.” He sounded relieved.

  “Thank you. No further questions.”

  The trial adjourned for the day after the doctor stepped down. I did okay, Violanti thought as he gathered up his materials. Neutralized a little of the damage of Church’s opening statement at least. He looked for Lauren, but she was already gone. Her and that partner of hers.

  74

  David was allowed to meet with Violanti to go over the events of the day. David had to be calmed down, then yelled at, then calmed again. When he finally got David to listen and not freak out, Violanti told him what to expect. The first witness for the next day was going to be the security guard, then Detective Joe Wheeler would take the stand. Violanti wanted David to be prepared. This was where it got interesting.

  “One more time,” Violanti prompted in the little room that the court officers had provided for them off of the main courtroom. It was boxy and painted a pale blue, almost like David’s cell, except for the matted and framed painting of pink roses hung on the far wall. The picture looked ridiculously out of place in the monotone room, an absurd splash of color in the utilitarian space. “What was Joe Wheeler’s demeanor towards you?”

  David paused, thinking. “At first, he was nice. He said he had to talk to everyone that worked that
night. The more we talked, the more mad he seemed to get. And sweaty. The guy was sweating like a meatloaf by the time we were done, it was gross.”

  Violanti ignored that. “He didn’t threaten you or yell at you or anything like that?”

  “No.”

  “And the statement you gave was truthful. No lies?”

  “I didn’t have anything to lie about.” David shrugged his shoulders. “We had sex. I left. She was alive.”

  Violanti circled a question on his yellow legal pad with his black felt tip pen. “Good answer. Good. Did Detective Wheeler ask for your DNA?”

  “Yeah and I gave it to him. I knew it would be all over her anyway.”

  “Good. Good.” He was furiously scribbling notes, rethinking questions and adding new ones. All of this was very, very good.

  David looked over Violanti’s shoulder toward the door. “Is Lauren coming to see me today?”

  He stopped in mid-question, putting his pen down on the table hard. “Are you kidding me? I’m trying to save your life and you want to ogle my private detective in the middle of your trial?”

  “I was just wondering if she was coming, that’s all.” There was a hopeful hitch in his voice.

  “She doesn’t exist, okay? For the rest of the trial, she’s a ghost to you. I need you to concentrate on the matter at hand, stupid.”

  “Don’t have a fit, I was only asking.”

  “Really, David. What’s the matter with you?”

  He put his head in his hands and wound his fingers through his hair. “Not you too, okay? I have to listen to it every day from my mother. Just once, would someone have some faith in me?”

  He studied David’s face. “When this is over, you and I are going to have a long, serious talk.”

  “About what?” David looked genuinely baffled.

  “You know about what. I think you have a problem. I think you need help.”