Witness for the Defense (19 page)

There was a general shifting as everyone glanced around to see if there was someone in particular she might be referring to. Within seconds everyone settled, and the judge nodded to Bragg to begin his opening statement.

The head district attorney was dressed in a new black suit, crisp white shirt, and a red-and-blue-striped tie. Sighing deeply, Bragg arranged the several documents that were spread out on the table in front of him. He knew all eyes would be focused on him—everyone anxious to hear what he intended on proving—and he was milking the moment for all it was worth.

Once the papers had been finally arranged in a neat stack, he gently picked them up and tapped them on the table. Then, with the stack in one hand, he paused momentarily and slowly rose to his feet. The only sound was a slight screech of the wooden chair as he pushed it away.

Looking at the floor with a somber expression, he walked between the bench and counsel table. “Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, and bowed slightly at the waist. After a brief pause, he swiveled on one foot toward the jury. Placing his hand on his chin, he fixed his gaze on the documents he was holding in front of him.

I had to turn from the jury to hide a smile. The guy was putting on quite a show, and like everyone else, I couldn’t wait to see what he was going to do next.

“I don’t need these notes,” Bragg said and tossed the papers on top of the counsel table. Most, however, fell harmlessly to the floor.

“Why?” he said loudly. He paused as he walked closer to the jurors. “Very simple, really. You see, ladies and gentlemen, I know the facts of this case by heart. But before we get to that, my name is J. J. Bragg, district attorney for the County of Mendocino. In this case, I represent the people of the state of California. You see,” he continued, picking up the tempo, “when someone has committed a crime in this county, it is not only my duty, but my moral obligation to make sure that person is brought to justice.”

He quickly turned around, and after one long step, pointed his finger directly at Jared’s startled face. “And that is why we are here,” he cried.

The jurors’ eyes shifted to Jared.

“That,” Bragg said in a more suppressed tone, while shaking his head in disgust, “is the defendant, Mr. Jared Reineer.”

The D. A. dropped his outstretched hand and surveyed the jury as he continued to shake his head. “A truly despicable man.”

While the jury focused on Bragg again, I sneaked a look at Jared to see how he was holding up. I had warned him something like this might happen. The D.A. was egging him on, hoping he could elicit some kind of violent response in front of the jury. But Jared had his hands clasped in front of him while looking straight ahead. He appeared calm and in control. As a matter of fact, I saw a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. It was his way of telling me he was fine.

Bragg looked to the heavens and threw his hands in the air. “Dear Lord, Danny is just a child,” he beseeched. “But his childlike innocence was stolen from him the night of September twenty-fifth in that dark forest. It was taken from him by that animal,” he shouted, pointing at Jared again.

With his head bowed, Bragg walked to the jury box and placed his hands on the railing. His eyes slowly shifted from one juror to another. “I will prove that Jared Reineer kidnapped and beat a ten-year-old boy named Danny Barton. And, if not for the grace of God, he would have had his way sexually with that poor innocent child as well.”

Bragg pulled a red handkerchief from his coat pocket and removed his wire-rim glasses, which he wiped clean. “By the time I’m finished with Jared Reineer, everyone in this courtroom, everyone in this county, everyone in the world, will know what Jared Reineer is.” Bragg lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s a molester of children, pure and simple…or God help us, maybe even worse.”

Bragg put his glasses back on and focused on Jared. Then with the suddenness of a rattlesnake, he thrust his arm at Jared again. “But this wasn’t the first time, was it, Mr. Reineer? Maybe for Danny Barton. But not for you. No, sir, you’ve done it before.” Bragg was shouting now. “How many times? Two? Three? A dozen? A hundred? And I’ll bet Danny was lucky not only because he escaped, but because he is alive today. How many of your victims aren’t?”

An opening statement is nothing more than an outline of what each party intends on proving. However, I knew it wasn’t unusual for the D.A. to throw in a little argument—punctuated by emotion. When they do, I normally don’t object because I’ll try to get away with the same. But Bragg’s opening was going beyond that. Even though I wasn’t positive, he had to be referring to the disappearance of the Boonville boy, which had nothing to do with Jared’s trial.

I looked up at Priest, who was about to nod off. She had probably heard Bragg make similar speeches. But I hadn’t and I’d had enough.

“Objection, sidebar!” I said, jumping to my feet.

Priest extended an open hand to a spot next to her. “Will counsel please approach sidebar?” she ordered like it was her idea. I was already there by the time she’d finished.

The judge rolled her eyes. “Is this the first time you’ve heard one of Bragg’s openings?”

“And hopefully the last.”

We both waited while Bragg, with his shoulders slumped, making sure everyone in the courtroom knew he felt my interruption was unwarranted, slowly approached.

“Go ahead,” Priest said once Bragg was in position, “state your grounds.”

“I feel I have allowed counsel a lot of liberty by not objecting until now,” I began. “But I believe Mr. Bragg has gone way beyond the bounds of an opening statement. He is not only arguing his case, but now he is referring to matters that have no relevancy to this trial whatsoever.” I lowered my voice to a near whisper. “He is telling the jury my client is responsible for other crimes.”

“Is that true, Mr. Bragg?”

Bragg taunted me with a quick, bitter smile. “The law is clear that I can mention in my opening statement anything I intend on proving. Including similar crimes.”

Priest shook her head impatiently. “What other crimes?”

“He’s referring to the disappearance of a boy named Gary Cosgrove.”

The judge looked to Bragg for a response, and the D.A. nodded his head. “Counsel for the defense is correct,” Bragg said, as if there were a dozen other defense attorneys up there.

I glanced at Sarah, who gave me a subtle smile while slowly shaking her head. She probably thought I was about to lose it.

“What proof do you have that my client had anything to do with that boy’s disappearance?”

“I’ll prove a connection.”

My hands dropped to my sides out of frustration. I felt my heart sink. What did Bragg know? Had he found out something that connected Jared to the Boonville boy?

“Even if, for the sake of argument,” I said to Priest in a strained voice, “he can prove a connection, what possible relevancy does it have in this trial?”

“Modus operandi,” Bragg said matter-of-factly.

“And which, under 352 of the evidence code,” I responded, “I’ll object to as highly prejudicial and will cause an undue consumption of this court’s time.”

Seemingly unimpressed, Bragg flipped the back of his hand in my direction. “The circumstances behind that boy’s disappearance are highly prejudicial because you know a jury will believe he killed the boy. Object all you want.”

I brought him back down to earth quickly. “What circumstances are you talking about?”

Bragg’s eyes narrowed.

“Well?” I demanded.

“We’re still working on it.”

“Just as I thought.” I turned to Priest. “At this moment I believe the issue is whether or not Mr. Bragg can mention that my client is responsible for other crimes. I am putting this court on notice that before the district attorney should be allowed to make such inflammatory statements, you first have to rule on their admissibility.”

“So, you should have requested a hearing,” Bragg interrupted.

“How?” I said. “I didn’t have any idea you intended on introducing any of this.”

Priest slammed her open hand on the counter. The sound created a much louder noise than she had intended. The bailiff stiffened.

“Mr. Bragg, you have been practicing long enough to know that before you can mention such damaging collateral evidence in your opening statement, you should make sure the defense has been provided with any and all information concerning it.”

There was a lumbering silence. Bragg gazed at the floor, pondering his next move.

“And if there is an objection, an evidentiary hearing would be in order before you could even breathe a word of it to the jury.”

“Then, let’s have a hearing.”

With that, the corner of Priest’s mouth twitched as she glanced around the packed courtroom. I knew what she was thinking. Everyone was expecting the opening statements to be made today. It had been front-page news and the subject of talk shows as far away as San Francisco. There was no way she would disappoint them.

“Counsel,” she said, “you should have known that anything close to something this prejudicial would be objected to.”

“But—” Bragg said and the judge cut him off.

“Mr. Dobbs, are you objecting to any and all references being made to the disappearance of a young boy from Boonville?”

“His name is Gary Cosgrove,” I said respectfully. “And yes, I am objecting for the reasons previously stated.”

“Sustained.” Priest turned to Bragg. “You will finish your opening without any further reference to what may or may not have happened to anybody other than the victim listed in this case.”

“But that could be a major part of my case.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you tried to blindside the defense.”

“I wasn’t.”

Priest glared at the prosecutor. “I’m not buying any of it. You tried to get away with something, and Mr. Dobbs called you out.”

Bragg opened his mouth and started to say something, but thought better of it.

“Now, either you continue according to my guideline, or I’ll tell the jury you have concluded your opening.”

Without saying anything further, Bragg strutted back to the jury box, grinning as if he had won the argument. The man should have been an actor.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, launching right back into his opening, “Danny Barton will testify that he left his mother’s old Victorian house after spending most of that Saturday helping her around the store. His reward was the five dollars she’d given him to buy whatever he wanted.”

The corners of Bragg’s eyes crinkled with empathy.

“Five dollars was a fortune to Danny. And that night, he knew exactly what to do with it. You see, the following day .was his mother’s birthday. He was going to buy her a bottle of perfume at Sav-on.

“When Danny left for Sav-on that evening, neither he nor his mother could have known that a man in an old, dented sedan had been waiting for more than an hour in the parking lot of the new strip mall where the drug store was located.”

Bragg looked pointedly at Jared and shook his head in disgust, then he began to pace in front of the jury.

“Danny was sad when he learned that five dollars wasn’t enough to buy even the cheapest bottle of perfume. So instead he bought a package of Gummy Bears and left Sav-on for home. But as Danny Barton rushed around the corner of the building, he ran smack into someone. Looking up, Danny saw looming over him a large man wearing a baseball cap and a long green army overcoat. Danny was momentarily paralyzed. He didn’t know what to do. The man grabbed Danny by the arm and dragged him into the passenger seat of his car. The man jumped in and threw the car into gear and it sped away. The old car turned onto Danny’s block and picked up speed as it passed his mother’s big Victorian house.”

Bragg paused as he surveyed the faces of the jurors.

“Danny will tell you he screamed for his mother as he looked out at the porch light that she had left on for him. And that was the last thing he saw before the man turned and with a clenched fist struck Danny on the side of the face.

“When Danny regained consciousness, he found himself on the floorboard, bouncing around like a rag doll. They were on a dirt road somewhere. When the car finally came to a stop and the man climbed out, Danny looked out to see where the man was, but all he could see was the silhouettes of large pine trees.

“Suddenly, Danny heard the gruff sound of the man cursing. Turning quickly, he saw the man trying unsuccessfully to get his key to open the passenger’s side door lock. Danny knew he had to do something. Leaning back, he started kicking furiously at the window. The man cursed again as he finally pulled the door open, reached inside and yanked the boy out of the car by one ankle. The back of Danny’s head thumped onto the cold, wet ground outside.

“Danny tried to see what was happening, but it was dark. He could barely make out the shadowy figure as it grabbed the collar of his coat and began dragging him through the forest, winding quickly through the trees as if he had been there many times before.

“Finally, in a small clearing, the man let go. Danny slumped to the ground and covered his face with his arms, crying. The man kicked Danny in the ribcage. Gasping for air, the boy screamed for help, but the sounds seemed to disappear in the dark dense fog.

“The man laughed as he knelt over Danny, ripping the boy’s coat open, exposing his yellow T-shirt and blue jeans. He then grabbed at Danny’s pants, popping the metal button and zipper in a single motion. Inch by inch, he relentlessly pulled the jeans over the boy’s shoes, leaving the child shuddering with cold and fear and shame.

“He then turned Danny over and lifted his long coat. When the man grabbed the boy’s briefs, Danny kicked back, catching his attacker squarely in the groin. The man slid off to Danny’s side, growling in agony. By the time he managed to reach for Danny, the boy was already running through the forest as fast as he could.

“Danny eventually hid behind a large redwood, exhausted. It was dark and deathly quiet; all he could hear was his own gasping. He tried to stay as still as possible, listening. He had run far enough into the forest, he thought, that the man could never find him.