He Saved Me, Loved Me, Wanted Me
XIV.
“Mr. Berr, your witness please,” the judge said in his dominate voice. The cheap lawyer rose again, giving an ‘I got this,’ look to Al. They both made shivers run down my spine. And just to clear it up, there are two different types of shivers. The type I get from Brian, and the type I get from them.
“Thank you,” Berr said, “I call Mr. David Maloney to the stand.”
Okay… what the fuck? Remember when Brian and I went to the music store, Peter’s and the sales rep, Dave talked to me? That’s the guy. How much did Al pay him for this? Brian sent me a look that meant he was thinking the same as I. At least he would know what Dave was saying. After being sworn in, Berr started the questioning along with his translator.
“How do you know Mr. Whitaker, here?”
“He donated a piano to a music store I work for. He’s a very charitable man.”
Bullshit.
“Where were you the night this supposed crime happened?”
“I was taking a vacation in Paris. Al and his wife had seen me and they invited me to come with them to their vacation home. I did, and that whole night we had caught up. We talked about the piano he donated and other things the whole night. He wanted to donate more.”
“Did Al leave the house at all?”
“No, I was around him the whole night.”
“At what time did you leave that night?”
“I didn’t. Not until the next morning, at least.”
“Mr. Maloney, in your own words, please describe Mr. Whitaker.”
“Well, he’s a nice man with a calm temper. He’s donated several things that I know of. When his family was moving from Paris to California, he told me, he had several things he didn’t need anymore, so instead of pawning them, he decided to donate them.” Fucking liar. Prick.
“Thank you, Mr. Maloney.” Berr sat down.
“Mr. Ames, would you like to counter?”
“I do. Thank you.” Mr. Ames stood and walked up to Dave. “At about what time did you meet up with Mr. Whitaker?”
Dave thought for a moment. “I would say about around eleven at night.”
“Sir, did you know the crime was committed at roughly ten thirty? Meaning that before you met up with Mr. Whitaker and his wife, the crime had already been done.” Murmurs were heard from the jury and the courtroom. “Did you notice anything abnormal about him?”
“No, sir.” Dave seemed so sure of himself. “He acted calm like nothing was wrong. Surely not like he had killed someone.”
“How long have you known Mr. Whitaker?”
“Oh, I’d say nearly a year.”
“How well do you know him?”
“I know him well enough that he wouldn’t kill anyone!”
“Order!” the judge yelled, banging his grovel, “Mr. Maloney, please be calm.”
“Sorry.”
“That night you met with him, you say he didn’t act out of the normal, is this correct?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, out of the year you have known him, how many face to face conversations have you had with him?”
“Only two.”
“So,” Ames turned to the jury and paced, “Out of the near year you’ve known him, only two face to face conversations have occurred. How can you tell what his normal stance is if you’ve only seen him twice? Surely someone like him can act entirely normal right after he’s murdered someone.”
“Objection, your honor! He’s saying that for sure Mr. Whitaker has murdered Ricky Miller.”
“Sustained. Mr. Ames, please…”
Mr. Ames nodded. “As I was saying, how would you know just from two conversations what someone’s normal behavior is? No more questions, your honor.” Mr. Ames sat and looked pleased with himself.
“Mr. Berr? Do you care to counter?” the judge asked. Berr shook his head. “Mr. Maloney, you may step down.” Dave stepped down and walked back to his seat. “Any more witnesses, Mr. Berr?” Berr shook his head again. He was defeated. “Mr. Ames, do you have any more witnesses?”
“Yes, I have one last witness. The court recognizes Deputy Adrian Dubois.” A cop, in full uniform walked up to the stand. He was sworn in and Mr. Ames took his stance in front of him.
“Deputy, I understand you had a search warrant for Mr. Whitaker.”
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
“Upon searching Mr. Whitaker’s home, we found several things. First was a GP 35 handgun. We confiscated this gun as possible evidence according to procedure and sent it to the lab, along with many bullets for testing.”
“What was the result?”
“Bullets were taken from Ricky Miller’s body and examined by the same bullets found in Mr. Whitaker’s home. The lab results were identical.”
“How so?”
“In the lab, they shoot the gun, and examine the bullets. Each bullet has its own fingerprint, as we say, but they are actually grooves. The examiner looks under a microscope and tries to match up those grooves. As I said, the bullet taken from Miller’s head in the autopsy had the same grooves as that gun had.”
“Anything else?”
“A large amount of money was found in Mr. Whitaker’s home. We understand that Mr. Whitaker is a wealthy man, you see, but this finding made many of my officer’s wonder why this much cash wasn’t in a bank.”
“What is your belief?”
“I believe it is drug money. Mr. Whitaker is in holding for drugs. That is for certain. Drugs were found in his system upon arrest and particles relating to cocaine were also found in his home. When Ricky Miller was autopsied, cocaine was also found in his system. We at the police station believe Mr. Whitaker was his drug dealer, and that is why the murder was committed.”
“Thank you, no further questions.” Ames sat down.
“Mr. Berr?”
Berr stood and straightened his jacket. For a moment, he looked in thought.
“Deputy, isn’t it possible that the gun found in Mr. Whitakers home was a coincidence?”
“Yes, it is, but the lab tested that gun, as I said. The gun leaves its own marking on each bullet. it isn’t possible for two guns of the same making to have that same fingerprint. The gun Mr. Whitaker had in possession was the exact same one that shot Ricky Miller.”
“Speaking of fingerprints, were there any on the gun? Anything relating to Mr. Whitaker that this gun was indeed his?”
“The gun’s serial number wasn’t missing and we tracked it. The gun is registered in his name. His fingerprints were also found. There is no doubt in my mind that Al Whitaker murdered Ricky Miller.”
We had him. The jury couldn’t fight this evidence. There were no more questions. The deputy was released.
“Mr. Ames, any more witnesses?”
“No, your honor.”
“Mr. Berr?”
“No.” Berr looked pissed.
“Fifteen minute recess while the jury decides the verdict.” The grovel hit the table.
“All rise…”
“Thank you,” Berr said, “I call Mr. David Maloney to the stand.”
Okay… what the fuck? Remember when Brian and I went to the music store, Peter’s and the sales rep, Dave talked to me? That’s the guy. How much did Al pay him for this? Brian sent me a look that meant he was thinking the same as I. At least he would know what Dave was saying. After being sworn in, Berr started the questioning along with his translator.
“How do you know Mr. Whitaker, here?”
“He donated a piano to a music store I work for. He’s a very charitable man.”
Bullshit.
“Where were you the night this supposed crime happened?”
“I was taking a vacation in Paris. Al and his wife had seen me and they invited me to come with them to their vacation home. I did, and that whole night we had caught up. We talked about the piano he donated and other things the whole night. He wanted to donate more.”
“Did Al leave the house at all?”
“No, I was around him the whole night.”
“At what time did you leave that night?”
“I didn’t. Not until the next morning, at least.”
“Mr. Maloney, in your own words, please describe Mr. Whitaker.”
“Well, he’s a nice man with a calm temper. He’s donated several things that I know of. When his family was moving from Paris to California, he told me, he had several things he didn’t need anymore, so instead of pawning them, he decided to donate them.” Fucking liar. Prick.
“Thank you, Mr. Maloney.” Berr sat down.
“Mr. Ames, would you like to counter?”
“I do. Thank you.” Mr. Ames stood and walked up to Dave. “At about what time did you meet up with Mr. Whitaker?”
Dave thought for a moment. “I would say about around eleven at night.”
“Sir, did you know the crime was committed at roughly ten thirty? Meaning that before you met up with Mr. Whitaker and his wife, the crime had already been done.” Murmurs were heard from the jury and the courtroom. “Did you notice anything abnormal about him?”
“No, sir.” Dave seemed so sure of himself. “He acted calm like nothing was wrong. Surely not like he had killed someone.”
“How long have you known Mr. Whitaker?”
“Oh, I’d say nearly a year.”
“How well do you know him?”
“I know him well enough that he wouldn’t kill anyone!”
“Order!” the judge yelled, banging his grovel, “Mr. Maloney, please be calm.”
“Sorry.”
“That night you met with him, you say he didn’t act out of the normal, is this correct?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, out of the year you have known him, how many face to face conversations have you had with him?”
“Only two.”
“So,” Ames turned to the jury and paced, “Out of the near year you’ve known him, only two face to face conversations have occurred. How can you tell what his normal stance is if you’ve only seen him twice? Surely someone like him can act entirely normal right after he’s murdered someone.”
“Objection, your honor! He’s saying that for sure Mr. Whitaker has murdered Ricky Miller.”
“Sustained. Mr. Ames, please…”
Mr. Ames nodded. “As I was saying, how would you know just from two conversations what someone’s normal behavior is? No more questions, your honor.” Mr. Ames sat and looked pleased with himself.
“Mr. Berr? Do you care to counter?” the judge asked. Berr shook his head. “Mr. Maloney, you may step down.” Dave stepped down and walked back to his seat. “Any more witnesses, Mr. Berr?” Berr shook his head again. He was defeated. “Mr. Ames, do you have any more witnesses?”
“Yes, I have one last witness. The court recognizes Deputy Adrian Dubois.” A cop, in full uniform walked up to the stand. He was sworn in and Mr. Ames took his stance in front of him.
“Deputy, I understand you had a search warrant for Mr. Whitaker.”
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
“Upon searching Mr. Whitaker’s home, we found several things. First was a GP 35 handgun. We confiscated this gun as possible evidence according to procedure and sent it to the lab, along with many bullets for testing.”
“What was the result?”
“Bullets were taken from Ricky Miller’s body and examined by the same bullets found in Mr. Whitaker’s home. The lab results were identical.”
“How so?”
“In the lab, they shoot the gun, and examine the bullets. Each bullet has its own fingerprint, as we say, but they are actually grooves. The examiner looks under a microscope and tries to match up those grooves. As I said, the bullet taken from Miller’s head in the autopsy had the same grooves as that gun had.”
“Anything else?”
“A large amount of money was found in Mr. Whitaker’s home. We understand that Mr. Whitaker is a wealthy man, you see, but this finding made many of my officer’s wonder why this much cash wasn’t in a bank.”
“What is your belief?”
“I believe it is drug money. Mr. Whitaker is in holding for drugs. That is for certain. Drugs were found in his system upon arrest and particles relating to cocaine were also found in his home. When Ricky Miller was autopsied, cocaine was also found in his system. We at the police station believe Mr. Whitaker was his drug dealer, and that is why the murder was committed.”
“Thank you, no further questions.” Ames sat down.
“Mr. Berr?”
Berr stood and straightened his jacket. For a moment, he looked in thought.
“Deputy, isn’t it possible that the gun found in Mr. Whitakers home was a coincidence?”
“Yes, it is, but the lab tested that gun, as I said. The gun leaves its own marking on each bullet. it isn’t possible for two guns of the same making to have that same fingerprint. The gun Mr. Whitaker had in possession was the exact same one that shot Ricky Miller.”
“Speaking of fingerprints, were there any on the gun? Anything relating to Mr. Whitaker that this gun was indeed his?”
“The gun’s serial number wasn’t missing and we tracked it. The gun is registered in his name. His fingerprints were also found. There is no doubt in my mind that Al Whitaker murdered Ricky Miller.”
We had him. The jury couldn’t fight this evidence. There were no more questions. The deputy was released.
“Mr. Ames, any more witnesses?”
“No, your honor.”
“Mr. Berr?”
“No.” Berr looked pissed.
“Fifteen minute recess while the jury decides the verdict.” The grovel hit the table.
“All rise…”