Authors: Garret Holms
C
aptain Becker watched as Babbage
, dressed in full uniform, crisp with freshly pressed creases, his shoes spit-shined, stood in front of the court reporter taking the oath. Becker didn’t know what to make of the man. Babbage was a sergeant, highly regarded by his lieutenant, and supposedly looked up to by the cops he supervised. But he’d been accused of sexual misconduct with an arrestee and was ultimately responsible for Fitz’s suspension. That worried Becker. Whatever the result of today’s hearing, this matter had to be carefully evaluated.
They were in the library of the District Attorney’s Office in Van Nuys. Head Deputy DA Chuck Allen was in charge of the Van Nuys’ Branch and authorized the meeting. He was mid-fifties, tall and slender with thick salt-and-pepper hair. He sat on one side of the conference table, with Deputy DA Doris Reynolds at his right. Becker sat to Allen’s left. Babbage sat on the other side of the table. To his right was the court reporter; to his left, his lawyer, Anthony Giovanni. A tape recorder with a conference-style microphone was on the table between everyone.
Allen pressed the record button on the tape recorder. “Sergeant Babbage,” Allen began, “before I start asking you questions, I want to put on the record some key details of today’s meeting. If anything I say contradicts your understanding about this meeting, please tell me. If you say nothing, I will assume that you agree with my characterization.” Allen looked at his watch. “It is now two-fifteen p.m. on October thirtieth. In addition to this statement being transcribed by a notary and a certified shorthand reporter, it also is being recorded. Do you understand and agree to that?”
Babbage looked at Giovanni, who nodded. “Yes, sir,” Babbage said.
“You are here today giving a statement, under informal conditional immunity. You requested formal immunity, through your attorney, last Friday afternoon, October twenty-seventh, indicating that you had information that identified the perpetrator of the heretofore-unsolved nineteen-year-old murder of Sarah Collins. Further, you indicated that you would, under penalty of perjury, disclose that information and testify in court, provided you received a formal grant of immunity. What that means, sir, is that so long as you tell the truth today, nothing you say in this recorded statement can be used to prosecute you criminally, either directly or indirectly. After the district attorney reviews your statement, the decision will be made whether or not to extend to you a formal grant of immunity. If you receive this formal grant, you can never be prosecuted for the rape, murder, or any other crime based upon the acts committed against Sarah Collins on July 4, 1976.”
Allen glanced at Captain Becker who nodded.
Allen continued. “You are advised that if you lie, or intentionally misrepresent any fact during today’s statement, you will lose your immunity and be subjected to criminal prosecution. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, I do.”
Today’s statement had been arranged in haste, and Becker could see that Allen was uncomfortable. The events of Friday and the weekend had been absolutely unexpected. What would normally have been routine had become a matter of the utmost importance. The jailing of Babbage by Judge Daniel Hart was simply extraordinary.
But the late Friday afternoon call to Allen by Anthony Giovanni had taken everyone completely by surprise. Giovanni said that Babbage was a witness to a nineteen-year-old unsolved murder. Further, Giovanni said, Babbage now wanted to give a statement identifying the murderer, but would do so only under a grant of immunity.
Normally that procedure would take some time, which was appropriate in light of all that had to be done. But when Giovanni told Allen who the murderer was, all hell broke loose. Any false allegation had to be disposed of immediately, so they all had worked the entire weekend.
Allen said, “Sergeant Babbage, what is your date of birth?”
“July 30, 1955.”
Allen continued. “Your lawyer has told us that you have some knowledge about a murder that occurred nineteen years ago. Is that correct?”
Babbage took a deep breath. “Yes. It happened on the fourth of July. Hart was also there.”
“You mean Daniel Hart?”
“Yes, sir. Daniel Hart. At approximately twenty-three-hundred hours, Hart approached me and asked if I wanted to party with him. At first I said no, but ultimately I went with him.”
“Did he say what he wanted you to do?” Allen inquired.
“He did.”
“And what was that?”
Babbage shifted in his seat, sitting up a little straighter. “He suggested we go to Lake Hollywood and get drunk together.”
“What were his exact words?”
“I don’t recall the exact words,” Babbage said. “Something to the effect of did I want to hang out with him and get loaded.”
“What did you say in response?”
“I said that I’d promised to take out Sarah Collins. Hart was her children’s baby sitter. He knew I was having a relationship with Ms. Collins at that time.”
“Go on,” Allen said.
“As I said, I asked Hart about Sarah. He indicated that it would be okay to bring her, and that we could all, as he said, ‘get loaded’ together.”
“What did you say?”
Babbage didn’t answer immediately. He looked at Giovanni who nodded.
Still hesitating, Babbage said, “I … I agreed, sir.”
Allen’s expression gave no indication what he may have been thinking.
“Then what happened?”
“At zero-one-hundred hours we went in my vehicle to pick her up. We drove to the Hollywood Reservoir, forced open the access road gate, drove to the water’s edge, and parked. The three of us exited and walked outward on a short pier. There was a small observation building at the end of the pier. We climbed it and sat on the roof, overlooking the water.”
“Then what?”
“Sarah Collins and I started kissing, but she told me she felt awkward around Hart, so we excused ourselves and told Hart that we would return later. Hart got angry, but we left him anyway and went to an area concealed by vegetation.”
Babbage paused. He glanced around the conference table. Allen had been taking notes on a yellow legal-size pad of paper. The room had grown silent, except for the sound of Allen’s felt-tip pen. Allen stopped, looking up. Becker saw Allen’s eyes lock on Babbage’s, and for an instant the two stared at each other, unblinking.
“Go on,” Allen said.
“This is a little awkward, sir,” Babbage said. He looked at the court reporter, then toward Deputy DA Reynolds. She had a half-smile on her face.
Babbage again looked at Allen. “Sarah Collins orally copulated me. The next thing I knew, I was struck with a blunt object, probably a rock, on the back of my head. When I awoke, I was sitting against a tree, bound with duct tape. I struggled, but I could barely move my hands and feet. I was still in the brush area. I had a clear, moonlit view of Hart and Sarah Collins.”
“What did you see?”
“Sarah was on her knees. Hart was behind her, holding her by the hair with one hand. He had my knife in his other hand. He put the knife against her neck. He told her that if she didn’t do what he said, he would ‘cut her.’ At first she resisted, but Hart pressed the knife to Sarah’s neck. She screamed. It appeared that he drew some blood, but I can’t be sure. He told her to shut up, and then he forced her to turn around and orally copulate him.
“Sarah gagged and spit, and Hart slapped her across the face. I attempted to get free from the duct tape, but I was still too weak, and I passed out again. When I awoke, I saw Sarah lying on the ground. Her clothes had been removed. She had multiple stab wounds, and she was clearly deceased. Hart was gone, and so was my vehicle. I finally managed to get loose. I made my way out toward the highway, eventually arriving home. My vehicle was parked in front of my house. Inside were Sarah’s clothes.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No, sir. I used very poor judgment, but I was afraid. I knew that Hart had used my knife, and that Sarah had been in my vehicle. I was also worried that no one would believe me.”
“What did you do with her clothes?”
“I burned them.”
“Didn’t you realize you were destroying evidence?” Allen asked.
“As I said, in my haste, I used poor judgment. I was only twenty at the time.”
“Did you hear from Hart later?”
“Yes, sir. He called me the next day. He warned me that if I told anyone, he’d turn the knife over to the police and claim that I murdered Sarah. I asked why he did it. He indicated that at first he wanted a ‘blowjob’ like she’d done with me, but she refused, so he had to force her. He said he had to kill her to keep her from going to the police. That was the last time I saw or heard from Hart. Until recently.”
“Recently?”
“Yes, sir. After all these years, I thought I would never see or hear from him again. I hoped he was either dead or living in another state. But about three months ago, Hart handled a case involving the death of an LAPD lieutenant’s wife. The case was well known to most officers. There was newspaper and television coverage mentioning Hart by name as the sentencing judge. I still didn’t believe it was him. It was unthinkable to me that the Daniel Hart I knew could actually have become a judge.”
Allen continued to make notes on his legal pad. He looked again to Becker. “Do you have any questions you want to ask the witness?”
“Yes,” Becker replied. He wished Detective Fitzgerald were here today. No one else had his in-depth knowledge of the murder, but he was still suspended. When Becker found out about today’s meeting and that Babbage would be discussing the murder, he had the Sarah Collins murder book brought to him. He’d read it thoroughly. Now, having listened to the statement, he searched his memory for anything that might be in the crime reports that could verify what Babbage was saying, one way or the other. There
was
something significant. The victim’s blood had been analyzed. Consistent with Babbage’s statement, it showed the presence of alcohol—but also cannabis. She’d been smoking marijuana. This was confirmed by residue found on the thumb and index finger of the decedent.
“You said that Hart asked you to go to the reservoir and used the words, ‘get loaded.’ Did you actually smoke marijuana that night?”
Giovanni spoke before Babbage could answer. “My client would rather not go into that, Captain. I don’t believe it’s relevant or needed for the prosecution to make a decision about immunity.”
“I disagree,” Allen said. “For one thing, we need to know if there is any reason to believe that Sergeant Babbage’s memory is impaired. Besides, if this thing goes to trial, the defense will ask, and Sergeant Babbage likely will be ordered by the judge to respond. In short, my office cannot consider immunity unless we have a completely candid statement from your client.”
“May I confer with my client?” Giovanni asked. Babbage and Giovanni talked in whispers.
He doesn’t know what evidence we have
, Becker thought.
For all he knows, we have a cigarette butt with his DNA on it. If he lies to us, he loses his immunity; if he admits to smoking, he could be fired, because the immunity is for criminal prosecution only and doesn’t protect him from being fired.
Finally, Giovanni spoke to the room again. “My client will answer.”
“I did smoke, Captain,” Babbage said. “But during all the times I’ve mentioned, my head was perfectly clear. I was not under the influence.”
“Did you ingest any other illegal or controlled substance, Sergeant?”
“No, sir.”
“What about alcohol?” Becker asked.
“Earlier that evening I consumed one or two twelve-ounce cans of beer, Captain.”
Becker asked, “Why did Hart remand you on Friday? For that matter, why did you go to see him in the first place?”
“As I said, sir, I didn’t know for sure that he was the same Daniel Hart. Friday morning, I was scheduled to testify. Upon entering the courtroom, I learned that the judge hearing the case was Hart. I started to feel apprehensive. Was this the same Hart I knew? What would he do when he saw me? I decided that I had to be sure it was him before testifying. I asked to see him, saying it was a personal matter. If I determined that it wasn’t the same person, I could excuse myself by indicating that I thought he was someone else. But it was him.”
“But why did he remand you?” Becker asked.
“At first he didn’t recognize me,” Babbage said. “I told him who I was, and he reacted with anger, immediately. He demanded to know why I came to see him. Did I actually think I could intimidate him? I’d learn soon just how powerful he was, he said. Who did I think people would believe? Hart, a superior court judge of impeccable reputation, or, as he said, ‘a shit’ like me? I realized it was a major mistake going to see him.”
“You still haven’t told us why he remanded you,” Becker said.
“I indicated to him that I couldn’t go on any longer with this thing hanging over my head. I told him that I was going to my captain and tell everything I knew. Hart reminded me about my knife. I told him I didn’t care. That’s when he called for the bailiffs and had me remanded.”
“Did he tell you he still had the knife?” Allen asked.
“Not exactly. But I’m sure he has it somewhere. It’s his leverage.”
“I’m not so sure,” Becker said. “He’d be a fool to keep it all these years. Especially with his knowledge of criminal law. It’s the one thing that would clearly link him to the murder.”
“Murderers often do foolish things,” Allen said. “But now isn’t the time to discuss that. Sergeant Babbage, do you have anything else you want to tell us?”
“That’s all,” Babbage said.
“One last question,” Becker said. He looked at the coroner’s report that he had removed from the murder book. “When you were orally copulated by Sarah Collins, did you ejaculate?”
Babbage looked surprised. “That was more than nineteen years ago,” he said.
Another dilemma for Babbage
, Becker thought.
If he says no, and we have a semen sample with his DNA, we’ve got him.
“We’re waiting, Sergeant,” Allen said.
Finally Babbage spoke. “I don’t recall.”