The Fifth Witness Part 42

"I don't think that is necessary. How does the state feel about this?"

Freeman looked suspicious, like she was looking for the trap.

"Judge," she said, "I want it clear that the defendant is acknowledging that the blood found on the hammer was indeed Mitch.e.l.l Bondurant's blood. And I want a waiver on ineffective counsel."

"I don't think a waiver is necessary," Perry said. "But I will get the stipulation directly from the defendant."

He then asked Lisa questions that confirmed she was on board with the stipulation.

Once Freeman said she was satisfied Perry turned his chair and rolled to the end of the bench so he could address the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the witness was going to take you through an explanation of the science of DNA typing and matching, leading you to testimony in regard to lab tests matching blood found on the hammer that is in evidence to that of our victim, Mitch.e.l.l Bondurant. By stipulating, the defense is saying they agree with those findings and will not object to them. So what you take from this is that the blood found on the handle of the hammer found in the bushes near the bank did indeed come from the victim, Mitch.e.l.l Bondurant. This is now stipulated as a proven fact and I will have that in writing for you when you begin your deliberations."

He nodded once and then rolled back into place where he told Freeman to proceed. Knocked out of rhythm by my unexpected move, she asked the judge for a few moments while she got her bearings and found the place from which to restart her examination. Finally, she looked up at her witness.

"Okay, Dr. Stanley, the blood from the hammer was not the only sample of blood from this case that you were asked to have a.n.a.lyzed, correct?"

"That is correct. We were also given a separate sample of blood discovered on a shoe found on the defendant's premises. In the garage, I believe. We typed-"

"Your Honor," I said as I rose from my seat again, "once more the defense wishes to stipulate."

This time the move brought complete silence to the courtroom. n.o.body was whispering in the gallery, the bailiff wasn't using his hand to m.u.f.fle his voice on his telephone, the court reporter's fingers were held steady over the keys. Complete silence.

The judge had been sitting with the fingers of both hands knitted together beneath his chin. He held his pose for a long moment before using both hands to signal Freeman and me forward to the bench.

"Come on up here, Counsel."

Freeman and I stood side by side in front of the bench. The judge whispered.

"Mr. Haller, your reputation preceded you when you came into my courtroom on this case. I was told by more than one source that you were a d.a.m.n fine lawyer and a tireless advocate. I need to ask, however, if you know what you're doing here. You want to stipulate to the prosecution's contention that the victim's blood was found on your client's own shoe? Are you sure about that, Mr. Haller?"

I nodded as if to concede that he had made a good point in questioning my trial strategy.

"Judge, we did the a.n.a.lysis ourselves and it came back as a match. The science doesn't lie and the defense is not interested in trying to mislead the court or the jury. If a trial is a search for truth then let the truth come out. The defense stipulates. We will prove later that the blood was planted on the shoe. That is where the real truth lies, not with whether or not it was his blood. We acknowledge that it was and we're ready to move on."

"Your Honor, may I be heard?" Freeman said.

"Go ahead, Ms. Freeman."

"The state objects to the stipulation."

She had finally caught on. The judge looked aghast.

"I don't understand, Ms. Freeman. You get what you want. The victim's blood on the defendant's shoes."

"Your Honor, Dr. Stanley is my last witness. Counsel is seeking to undercut the state's case by robbing me of the ability to present evidence in the way I wish to present it. This witness's testimony is devastating to the defense. He just wants to stipulate to lessen its impact on the jury. But a stipulation must be agreed to by both parties. I made a mistake taking the stipulation on the hammer, but not this time. Not on the shoes. The state objects to this."

The judge was undaunted. He saw a savings of at least a half day of court time and he wasn't going to let it go.

"Counsel, understand that the court can overrule your objection in the cause of judicial economy. I'd rather not do that."

He was telling her not to go against him on this. To accept the stipulation.

"I'm sorry, Your Honor, but the state still objects."

"Overruled. You can step back."

And so it went. As with the hammer, the judge relayed the stipulation to the jury and promised they would receive a doc.u.ment outlining the evidence and facts agreed to by the start of deliberations. I had successfully silenced the crescendo of the prosecution's case. Instead of going out with the crashing of cymbals, drums and evidence that screamed SHE DID IT! SHE DID IT! SHE DID IT!, the prosecution went out with a whimper. Freeman was seething. She knew how important the payoff was to the gradual buildup. You don't listen to Bolero Bolero for ten minutes and turn it off with the final two minutes to go. for ten minutes and turn it off with the final two minutes to go.

Not only did the truncating of her case hurt, but I had effectively turned her last and most important witness into the first witness for the defense. By stipulating, I had made it seem as if the DNA returns were the initial building blocks of my case. And there was nothing Freeman could do. She had put the whole case out and had nothing left. After excusing Stanley from the witness stand, she sat at the prosecution table, turning through her notes, probably thinking about whether she should put Kurlen or Longstreth back on the stand to finish the case with a detective's roundup of all the evidence. But there were risks to that. She had rehea.r.s.ed their testimony before. But not this time.

"Ms. Freeman?" the judge finally asked. "Do you have another witness?"

Freeman looked over at the jury box. She had to believe she had the verdict. So what if the evidence wasn't delivered according to the plan she had ch.o.r.eographed? The evidence was still there and in the record. The vic's blood on the hammer and on the defendant's shoes. It was more than enough. She had had the verdict in her pocket. the verdict in her pocket.

She slowly rose, still looking at the jurors. Then she turned and addressed the judge.

"Your Honor, the People rest."

It was a solemn moment and again the courtroom turned still and silent, this time for almost a whole minute.

"Very well," the judge finally said. "I don't think any of us thought we would be at this place so soon. Mr. Haller, are you ready to proceed with the presentation of the defense's case?"

I stood.

"Your Honor, the defense is ready to proceed."

The judge nodded. He still seemed a bit sh.e.l.l-shocked by the defense's decision to acknowledge and accept as evidence the victim's blood on the defendant's shoes.

"Then we'll take our afternoon break a little early," he said. "And when we come back, the defense phase will begin."

PART FOUR.

The Fifth Witness

Thirty-nine.

If the defense tactics during the latter stages of the prosecution's case were surprising, the first step out of the corner during the defense phase did nothing to lessen some observers' doubts as to the competence of counsel. Once everyone was back in place following the afternoon break, I went to the lectern and threw another What the h.e.l.l? What the h.e.l.l? move into the trial. move into the trial.

"The defense calls the defendant, Lisa Trammel."

The judge asked for quiet as my client stood and made her way to the stand. That she was called at all was shocking and caused a roll of whispers and chatter in the courtroom. As a general rule, defense attorneys don't like to put a client on the witness stand. In a risk-to-reward ratio this tactic ranks quite low. You can never be sure what your client will say because you can never fully believe anything she has told you. And to be caught in a single lie while under oath and on the stand in front of the twelve people determining your guilt or innocence is devastating.

But this time and this case were different. Lisa Trammel had never wavered in her claim to innocence. She had never once waffled in her response to the evidence against her. And she had never once been remotely interested in any sort of deal. Given this, and the developments regarding the Herb DahlLouis Opparizio connection, I was viewing her differently than I had at the start of the trial. She had insisted on having a chance to tell the jury she was innocent and it occurred to me the night before that she should be given the opportunity the very moment it became available. She would be the first witness.

The defendant took the oath with a slight smile on her face. It may have seemed out of place to some. After she was seated and her name was in the record, I jumped right on it.

"Lisa, I just saw you smiling a little bit when you were taking the oath to tell the truth. Why were you smiling?"

"Oh, you know, nervousness. And relief."

"Relief?"

"Yes, relief. I finally get the chance to tell my side. To tell the truth."

It started out well. From there I quickly took her through the standard list of basic questions about who she was, what she did for a living and the state of her marriage, as well as touching on the state of her home ownership.

"Did you know the victim of this terrible crime, Mitch.e.l.l Bondurant?"

"Know him, no. Know of him, yes."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, over the past year or so, when I started to get in trouble with the mortgage, I had seen him. I went to the bank a couple times to plead my case to him. They never let me talk to him, but I saw him back there in his office. The wall of his office was completely made of gla.s.s, which was a joke. Like you could see him but not talk to him."

I checked the jury. I didn't see any outright head nods, but I thought the answer and the image my client had conjured were perfect. The banker hiding behind a wall of gla.s.s while the downtrodden and disadvantaged are kept away.

"Did you ever see him anywhere else?"

"On the morning of the murder. I saw him at the coffee shop I stop at. He was two people behind me in line. That's why I was confused when I was talking to the detectives. They were asking about Mr. Bondurant and I had just seen him that morning. I didn't know he was dead. I didn't realize they were investigating me for a murder I didn't know had even been committed."

So far, so good. She was playing it as we had discussed and rehea.r.s.ed, right down to always referring to the victim with complete respect if not sympathy.

"Did you talk to Mr. Bondurant that morning?"

"No, I didn't. I was afraid he might think I was stalking him or something and take me to court. Also, I had been warned by you to avoid any encounter or confrontation with people from the bank. So I quickly got my coffee and left."

"Lisa, did you kill Mr. Bondurant?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Did you sneak up behind him with a hammer from your garage and hit him on the head so hard that he was dead before he hit the ground?"

"No, I did not!"

"Did you hit him two more times when he was on the ground?"

"No!"

I paused as if to study my notes. I wanted her denials to echo in the courtroom and in each juror's mind.

"Lisa, you made quite a name for yourself fighting the foreclosure of your home, didn't you?"

"It wasn't my intention. I just wanted to keep my home for myself and my son. I did what I thought was right. It ended up getting a lot of attention."

"It wasn't good attention for the bank, was it?"

Freeman objected, arguing that I was asking Trammel a question she would not have the knowledge to answer. The judge agreed and told me to ask something else.

"There came a time when the bank sought to stop your protests and other activities, correct?"

"Yes, they took me to court and got a restraining order against me. I couldn't have any more protests at the bank. So I had them at the courthouse."

"And did people join your cause?"

"Yes, I started a website and hundreds of people-a lot of them like me, losing their homes-joined in."

"You became quite visible as the leader of this group, didn't you?"

"I guess so. But it was never about getting attention for myself. It was about what they were doing, the frauds they were committing when they took away people's houses and condos and everything."

"How many times do you think you were on the television news or in the newspaper?"

"I didn't keep count but a few times I went national. I was on CNN and Fox."

"By the way, speaking of going national, Lisa, on the morning of the murder, did you walk by WestLand National in Sherman Oaks?"

"No, I didn't."

"That wasn't you on the sidewalk, just a half block away?"

"No, it was not."

"So the woman who testified she saw you was lying under oath?"

"I don't want to call anyone a liar but it wasn't me. Maybe she just made a mistake."

"Thank you, Lisa."

I looked down at my notes and shifted direction. By seemingly keeping my own client off guard with changing subjects and questions I was in effect keeping the jury off guard, which is what I wanted to do. I didn't want them thinking ahead of me. I wanted their undivided attention and I wanted to feed them the story in pieces and in an order of my choosing.

"Do you normally keep your garage door locked?" I asked.

"Yes, always."

"Why is that?"