A Cold Day in Hell Read online

  “Yes.”

  Better to let the jurors’ imaginations run wild with that last statement, Lauren thought. Sometimes what’s left unsaid does more damage.

  Violanti smiled sympathetically, “Thank you, Mrs. Jackson. No further questions.” He wheeled around. As he went to sit back down at the defense table, he brushed shoulders with Carl Church, who was marching toward the stand.

  “Mrs. Jackson, do you recognize this piece of paper?”

  He handed her a white sheet of paper and she looked it over. Then she nodded and handed it back. “It’s the statement I gave to Detective Wheeler.”

  “And did you sign this statement?’

  “I did.”

  “But now you’re saying that some things in this statement are untrue?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do we know that you aren’t lying now?”

  “Objection!” It was Violanti’s turn to spring up, palms pressed flat on the polished wood of the defense table.

  Church looked toward the judge. “Your Honor, this is fair game. The defense brought it in.”

  The judge looked at the defense table. “Sustained. You opened the door, Mr. Violanti.”

  Lauren saw Violanti start to protest, think better of it, and sit down.

  Church picked up as if he’d never been interrupted. “Are you lying now?”

  “No.”

  “But you lied to Detective Wheeler?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you lied to your husband when you were having an affair with Anthony Vine?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the only reason you came clean about the affair or your car was because you were confronted with evidence by Mr. Violanti?”

  “That’s not the only reason.” Her eyes cast downward.

  “It’s not? Are you still married?”

  “We are in the process of a divorce.”

  “Who served whom with the papers?” Church pressed.

  “My husband served me.” Her voice was a whisper now, full of shame.

  “So, you didn’t want a divorce?” Church’s voice became softer, almost sympathetic.

  “No.”

  “And now you’re concocting a story to put your lover in jeopardy by committing perjury?”

  Jackson actually sat back startled, like he’d slapped her.

  Violanti could barely contain himself. “Objection!”

  “Sustained.”

  Church glanced at the witness, who was all but doubled over in the stand now, crying. His gentle tone evaporated into contempt. “No further questions. This witness has no credibility.”

  Lauren couldn’t help but feel for Jackson, as the woman practically crumpled in on herself with that last remark. If Church’s aim had been to crush her spirit, he had succeeded.

  “Mr. Church,” the judge admonished, “another outburst like that and I will declare a mistrial. The jury will disregard that last remark. Redirect?”

  Violanti shook his head. Lauren knew Church had scored some points on that one and Violanti was at least sympathetic enough to let it go.

  The judge turned to the witness box. “Mrs. Jackson, you may step down.”

  Carl Church’s satisfied smile lasted all the way back to his seat. Jennifer Jackson marched tearfully through the crowded gallery and out the door. Despite his heated objections, Violanti didn’t seem bothered by the cross, now that it was over. Lauren believed he had done some damage to the defense for sure, but Church could have done worse to Jennifer Jackson on the stand. Violanti certainly would have. He just had to keep chipping away at the prosecution’s case.

  “Next witness, Counselor?” the judge asked.

  Frank Violanti was more than ready. “The defense wishes to recall Anthony Vine.”

  Judge O’Keefe nodded. “Recalling Anthony Vine.”

  Church’s smirk disappeared from his face. In the heat of his cross of Jennifer Jackson, Lauren could tell he had forgotten all about Violanti’s intention of recalling Vine. “Your Honor”—he stood facing the judge—“I would like to request we break for the day, start fresh in the morning.”

  The judge glanced down at the gold watch on his right wrist. “If the defense has no objections?”

  Lauren could tell Violanti had plenty of objections, but to hold the jury would make him extremely unpopular at this stage of the game, and jury opinion was everything. “I have no objection.”

  “We’ll resume testimony tomorrow at ten a.m.”

  Hitting the desk with his gavel, the signal sent everyone to their feet before the bailiff even got out his “All rise.”

  Lauren watched Violanti gather up his case file, whispering to David the whole time. If nothing else, she thought as she followed Reese into the aisle, tomorrow is going to be the prize fight.

  80

  Lauren and Reese met up early the next day and had an almost silent coffee together before heading over to the courthouse. She was too tense to make small talk and he didn’t push it. No flirting with the waitress, no weight jokes, just minimal speech and a five-dollar bill left on the greasy counter.

  Coming into the courtroom early again, they took their same seats, watching the scene assemble itself. As Lauren watched, she felt the pang of a headache start behind her left eye. All the stress of the last few months felt like it was suddenly drowning her, pulling her under. She bent forward, pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, willing it away. Reese’s hand on her back nearly made her jump out of her seat. He said nothing, just held his hand between her shoulder blades, practically soaking the pain in with his touch. She leaned back, opened her eyes.

  She could do this.

  At exactly ten a.m. the judge took the bench, surveyed the courtroom, called both attorneys up, and took care of the formalities. Lauren watched the jury: some were alert, pencils and paper in hand, some looked bored, and one young man yawned for what seemed like a full minute. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, the judge sent the attorneys back and started the proceedings.

  “Mr. Violanti?” the judge promted.

  He stood. “The defense would like to recall Anthony Vine, Your Honor.”

  He nodded. “Recalling Anthony Vine.”

  It took a few minutes for the court officers to bring him in. Vine’s jaw was set in outrage, his features clenched and tense, as he made the trip back up to the stand. Violanti snatched up the remote for the video monitors that were still in place as he approached the stand.

  “Mr. Vine, it was your testimony that you never left your waterfront condominium on the night in question after you made the last phone call to your wife, was it not?”

  “Correct.”

  Violanti clicked a button on the remote and both screens lit up with the image of Jennifer Jackson’s car at the red light. The color drained away from Vine’s face. “Who does that vehicle belong to, Mr. Vine?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Does that car belong to Jennifer Jackson?”

  “It looks like her car.”

  “Can you read the date and time stamped on the bottom of the screen?”

  “I don’t have my glasses on.”

  “Would you like me to bring the television closer?” he asked helpfully.

  “No.”

  “Did you, in fact, leave the condominium at 9:50 p.m. on June 25th of this year?”

  He looked at Church.

  “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” again Violanti had to tell him. “He doesn’t have the answers, you do. Mr. Vine, did you leave your condominium in Jennifer Jackson’s car on June 25th at 9:50 p.m.?”

  “What do you want me to say?” Vine barked.

  “The truth,” Violanti snapped back. “Is that, in fact, you in that car on the screen?”

  “I can’t believe this—”

>   “Answer the question!”

  “Yes,” he spat out. “Yes, it was me. I went to get condoms and some OxyContin. That’s why I fell asleep and I didn’t wake up until the morning, instead of going home.”

  “Now your story is that you were in a drug-induced coma while your wife was being killed?”

  Church rose to object, but the judge impatiently waved him down. You can’t object just because you don’t like the answer that’s coming, Lauren thought as the prosecutor sank back into his seat.

  “I’ve had a pill problem for a while—”

  “I didn’t ask you that, Mr. Vine.”

  Anthony Vine sat back in his seat as if bracing for another blow.

  Violanti got right up into Vine’s face, which was not such an easy thing for him to do, considering his lack of height. “Did you kill your wife?”

  “Objection!” Church burst up from his seat.

  Violanti pressed on, ignoring Church’s objection, “Did you kill your wife, Mr. Vine?”

  “Your Honor!” Church pounded his hand on the table.

  “Answer the question, sir, and no more of that, Mr. Church,” the judge admonished, motioning for Church to sit down again.

  “No. I didn’t kill my wife.” Vine snarled. “I got condoms and drugs.”

  “From where?”

  “A guy I know on the west side. I’d been buying from him for a few months.”

  “He gave you condoms and drugs?”

  “No.” Vine shook his head as if to get everything straight. “He gave me the pills. I stopped at a store on Niagara Street and got the condoms.”

  “What’s the guy’s name?”

  “I don’t know his name. He’s a short Hispanic guy. He stands on the corner of Maryland and West. He’s probably there right now.”

  “Anthony Vine, the millionaire, has to buy his drugs on the street like a common junkie? Don’t tell me you don’t have people to do that for you?”

  “Objection!” Church called from the prosecutors table.

  “Sustained.” The judge was starting to lose patience with Violanti’s ambush.

  “Withdrawn. What was the name of the store you stopped at?”

  “I don’t remember.” Vine was flexing and unflexing his left hand. “It was one of those small, little Spanish markets.”

  “There are about twenty of those up and down Niagara Street. Was it on the left or right hand side?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Violanti nodded, seemed to consider that answer, and asked, “Did you stop before or after you got the pills?”

  “Before … no, after.”

  “Which is it?”

  Anthony Vine stopped for a moment. “After.”

  “Are you sure? That night is kind of fuzzy for you, isn’t it, Mr. Vine?”

  “Objection!” Church jumped up.

  Violanti didn’t even break pace. “Withdrawn. Did you drive to Garden Valley and kill your wife?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? You seem a little off about the events of the night.”

  “Objection!” Church was going to have a heart attack if he kept leaping from his seat.

  “Sustained.”

  Violanti tried again. “Did you drive to Toy City that night?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see your wife having sex with David Spencer?”

  “No.”

  Violanti cut right to it. “Did you lose your temper and strangle her with the scarf you bought her in Italy?”

  “No, I didn’t! I did not kill my wife. I didn’t kill her!” Vine started to rise from the witness stand, causing the bailiff to come over and gently ease him back down.

  Violanti paused while Vine tried to control himself, breathing in and out, clutching the sides of the witness box, his oversized arm muscles bulging under his shirt.

  Then he started out again softly. He was almost done. “Did you share your drugs with Jennifer Jackson that night?”

  “No.” His face fell from the rage of Violanti’s questions to a deep sadness. “I didn’t tell her about getting the drugs. Very few people know about my habit. It’s something I’m deeply ashamed of. I hurt my back three years ago and got addicted to the pain pills. Now my doctor won’t give them to me anymore. I don’t know how to stop. I never thought I’d be that guy, you know? Katherine knew. Sometimes I’d steal some of her meds. After she got diagnosed bipolar, I kept sending her to other doctors to get more prescriptions.”

  Lauren wondered if Vine came up with that story himself or if Church had helped. A sad tale, to be sure, but Violanti wouldn’t let himself get derailed. “So, you could have told Mrs. Jackson you were going for condoms, killed your wife, and now here you are with this made-up story. Is that the truth?”

  Church was pleading now. “Your Honor, please.”

  “Enough, Mr. Violanti.” The judge’s voice loomed ominous now. “Either move on or stand down.”

  “I think I’ve made my point. No further questions.”

  81

  With the end of Anthony Vine’s testimony, the defense rested its case. Church tried to do damage control, a lot of it, lasting into the late afternoon. Vine looked exhausted and shrunken to Violanti as he finally exited the stand. He’d been on the stand all day, and Violanti knew what it was like to take that kind of beating, although it didn’t garner any sympathy for Vine. Maybe it was wrong of him, but Anthony Vine was a bully and Violanti was glad to see him be on the receiving end for once.

  The judge adjourned for the day and set closing arguments for the next morning, Friday. Frank Violanti spent most of Thursday night scouring his trial notes, honing his closing argument to head off any damage Church could do at the pass. The prosecution always got the last word in a criminal trial. Always. Violanti had seen enough of Church’s closings in the past to prepare himself. He liked to use charts and props, PowerPoint presentations, and physical re-enactments to get his point across. He was dramatic and dynamic and juries were mesmerized by his even, reasonable voice. The voice of justice for the people. Because wasn’t he, District Attorney Carl Church, elected to represent the people? Violanti would have to anticipate his closing and neutralize it with preemptive strikes.

  While Kim slept quietly on the couch next to him, he furiously scribbled and reworked his closing, over and over again until he was satisfied that he could do no better. He fell asleep on his desk, facedown in his notes, like a college student cramming for exams. Funny thing was, he slept like the dead.

  The next morning Frank Violanti found himself in the courtroom again, looking at those same jurors, wondering if he had poked enough holes in the prosecution’s case. Now he had to point out each and every hole, remind the jurors of the prosecution’s weaknesses. He felt that the closing he’d written was his masterpiece. With his own PowerPoint presentation, he painted a picture of a flawed investigation from the very start. He laid out in living color all the things he had hit on during the trial. That it was a rush to judgment without a proper investigation. The lack of experience of the lead detective. He walked them through Anthony Vine as a viable suspect. The husband had means, motive, and opportunity. He reminded them of a lack of criminal past on the defendant’s part and David’s willingness to talk to the police. How David cooperated fully from the beginning. How Anthony Vine concealed more than he shared. All these things he wove into an intricate portrait, pointing away from David Spencer and toward Anthony Vine.

  Lauren and Reese watched from the gallery, looking impressed. Violanti had the jury’s attention, they were leaning forward, taking notes. He walked through the case against David point by point, refuting every bit of evidence in one way or another. Even Joe Wheeler, who he was watching out of the corner of his eye, started to look worried. At the end, when he humbly thanked the jury and assured them that they’d do t
he right thing, Violanti was convinced it was a wrap. Not only had he created a reasonable doubt, in his mind the jury could have nothing but doubt. Frank Violanti had hit it out of the park.

  Then Carl Church stood up.

  There were no PowerPoints or blown up photos, none of the stuff he was noted for using in his closings. There was just him in his navy blue power suit, looking handsome and strong and reassuring, standing in front of the jury.

  82

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Carl Church began. “This case is simple.”

  Lauren watched as he ran a finger down the left of the rail that separated the jury from the courtroom floor, as if inspecting for dust. He strolled in front of them as if he had all the time in the world. Looking up thoughtfully, he addressed them like they were old friends. “Mr. Violanti has pointed out alternate theories for every bit of evidence I presented to you. He gave a different interpretation of each witness’s testimony. He might have raised a doubt in some of your minds, because he’s a good defense attorney and that’s his job.”

  Finding herself inching to the edge of her seat, Lauren’s breath caught in her throat as Church held off a moment with a well-timed pause.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, these are the facts. David Ryan Spencer is the last known person with Katherine Vine. David Ryan Spencer had sex with Katherine Vine. That’s a fact. Katherine Vine bit David Ryan Spencer. Katherine Vine was strangled with her own scarf, in her own car, the same night she had sex with David Ryan Spencer. These are facts not even disputed by the defense. Was Anthony Vine having an affair? Yes. So what? He was with his mistress the night his wife was murdered. He left for condoms and drugs, so he says. Did he? I don’t know. What I do know is there is not one fact that puts him at the scene of his wife’s murder. Not one. Not a witness, not a piece of video, nothing. You must judge this case on the facts. Not speculation from the defense. Because that’s what it is.”

  He twisted his torso to glare at Violanti, to drive home who was raising these ridiculous theories. “Speculation. Frank Violanti is pointing the finger at Anthony Vine because he has nowhere else to point it. He asks you to look for a person with a motive. But I submit to you this was an absolutely senseless murder. Senseless. There is no motive you could supply me with to make sense of killing Katherine Vine. She was a beautiful wife, a devoted mother, a beloved sister, and a good friend. To try to put a reason on her death is as pointless as her murder.”