the house picking up the various items of clothing strewn on the path
between the front door and my bed, Chuck grabbed the Oregonian from the
porch.
The story about the anonymous letter was a long one and had made the
front page of the Metro section. Putting aside my outrage that the
press had gone forward on the basis on a single anonymous unconfirmed
letter, I could acknowledge that the story was actually fair. It
raised the possibility that
Taylor and Landry were innocent, but it also quoted experienced
criminal investigators who were familiar with the common phenomenon of
false confessions in high-profile cases. Some even suggested it might
be a publicity stunt by a death-penalty opponent.
Although the paper did not reprint the letter itself, I was surprised
by the amount of detail revealed about the letter's contents. The
typewritten letter was mailed from Roseburg, a logging town a couple of
hours south of Portland. According to the report, the letter described
with dispassion the grizzly details of the final hours of Jamie
Zimmerman's life and her horrible death. Its anonymous author claimed
to have been playing pool at Tommy Z's when he saw Jamie Zimmerman
running her tongue across her parted lips, watching him while she did a
nasty dance in front of the jukebox. She made it clear what she wanted
when she graphically simulated fellatio on the last of many bottles of
Rolling Rock he bought her.
I looked up from the paper. "Tommy Z's? Did that come up in the
investigation?"
Chuck nodded. "Truck stop slash biker bar in southeast Portland. It
was reported during the trial, though, so anyone could know about it.
Margaret Landry said Taylor picked up Jamie there. We found witnesses
who placed Taylor at the bar around the time Jamie disappeared, and
Jamie was known to hang out there sometimes."
I went back to the article. The author claimed that Jamie danced for a
couple of songs and then walked over to him and said she noticed him
because he looked dangerous. After some token small talk, he drove her
back to his apartment. In the privacy of the apartment, the dance she
began at
Tommy Z's evolved into a strip tease and a lap dance. After the two
began to engage in what the article paraphrased as "consensual
intercourse," what might have been merely a desperate exchange of
bodily fluids between two pathetic lives took a violent turn. According
to the author, a drunk Jamie started laughing during the act itself,
mocking her anonymous lover about the size of his manhood. The man hit
her repeatedly, telling her to shut up. The author wrote that he
initially wrapped his hands around Jamie Zimmerman's throat to silence
her taunts. But when her eyes started to bulge and she began tensing
her entire body in an effort to free her throat from his grasp, he
realized he wouldn't stop; that he had never felt such power and
gratification as through her suffering.
When I'd finished reading, I looked up at Chuck. He read my thoughts.
"You're going to tell me it could be worse, right?"
I nodded.
"I know this kind of stuff happens in death cases and it's something
I've got to deal with, but I'm telling you, Sam, I just don't have it
in me. At Landry's trial, the entire defense was based on an attack
against me as a cop and a person. That guilty verdict, and the verdict
against Taylor: I saw those as vindication. I haven't even been able
to deal with my feelings about Taylor's execution, because I can't
separate my feelings about the execution itself from the stress I was
feeling about the publicity that would go along with it. I knew that
somehow this would come back around to me."
I stood up and took him in my arms. He held me tightly, and I could
feel his body begin to shake. "Dammit, Sam, I didn't do anything
wrong." I stroked his hair and ran my hand along his back, whispering
shushing sounds in his ear.
Then I led him back to bed to comfort him the only way I could think
to.
Chuck was scheduled to testify at the trial that morning, but we went
to the courthouse separately to make sure we weren't seen arriving
together. I hoped that concentrating on his testimony would take his
mind off the letter.
Chuck was a great witness. The description of the search of the car
could have been one of the moments when I lost the jurors, but Chuck's
personable style helped keep their attention. He explained that he had
not located any blood or other physical evidence of an assault in the
car, but that the car looked like it had new paint, carpet, and
upholstery. Transitioning into the work order from the auto detail
shop, I asked, "Were you able to determine, Detective Forbes, whether
your initial impression was correct?"
"Yes, I was."
"And how were able to verify that, Detective?" It felt good when we
made eye contact, but I looked away so as not to get distracted.
"During the search of the car, I located an invoice from the Collision
Clinic, an automobile detailing shop at Southeast Eighty-second and
Division."
I showed him the invoice and he verified that it was the paper he had
found during the search. I said to Judge Lesh, "Your honor, the
parties have stipulated that the contents of the invoice are in fact
accurate."
Judge Lesh turned to the jury and delivered the standard instruction
for stipulations like these. "Members of the jury, the parties have
agreed that it's unnecessary to call someone with firsthand knowledge
about the contents of this exhibit to testify. Essentially, they have
agreed that the document is exactly what it appears to be and that
what's written on it is true."
When the judge was finished, I turned back to Chuck. "What does the
invoice indicate?"
"It shows that Frank Derringer paid eight hundred dollars for new
paint, upholstery, and carpet for the vehicle."
"And does it indicate when the work was completed?"
"Yes, it does. The work was done the day after Kendra Martin was
abducted."
I paused to make sure that the jury understood the implication. Then,
for the truly dense, I followed up. "So, one day after the assault on
Kendra Martin, and before you were able to search it, Frank Derringer
paid someone to replace the carpet and upholstery on the interior of
his car?" Chuck agreed. "And one day after the assault on Kendra
Martin, Frank Derringer paid someone to change the appearance of his
vehicle by painting its exterior?" Yes, again. "And he paid eight
hundred dollars for this work?" Yes.
"Detective, are you familiar with the Blue Book for automobile prices?"
Yes. I pulled out the photocopy of the relevant page from the Blue
Book and asked Chuck to refer to it. "Based on that, Detective, what
is your estimate of the maximum fair market value of Frank Derringer's
vehicle, prior to the work he had completed at the Collision Clinic?"
"Twelve hundred dollars."
"And what is your estimate
of the fair market value after he paid eight
hundred dollars for the work at the Collision Clinic?"
"Fourteen hundred dollars."
Lisa was predictably gentle on cross. Yes, Chuck admitted, some people
spend money to improve houses and cars, even if they might not get the
money returned. And, yes, he conceded, it may have been worth eight
hundred dollars to Mr. Derringer to have a new feel to his car. When
Lisa finished her questioning, reserving the right to recall the
witness later, I didn't see any need to redirect. Instead, I caught
Chuck's eye as he left the witness stand. I was right. Testifying in
a solid case with an easy cross had taken his mind off the Zimmerman
debacle.
The trial was trucking along smoothly. I began to suspect that my
paranoia about Lisa's strategy was exactly that paranoia. Perhaps she
had simply concluded there was no reason to knock herself out trying to
save Derringer. She didn't even try to attack the accuracy of the
fingerprint evidence when the criminologist, Heidi Chung, called a
match based only on six points. Her only questions concerned the
timing of the latent print found on Kendra's purse. Chung conceded the
point that must always be given up on fingerprint evidence: Although
she could state with confidence that the defendant had left his
fingerprint on the victim's purse, there was no way to determine when
the print had been left behind.
On redirect, Chung explained to the jury that it was never possible to
determine from physical evidence alone when a fingerprint was left
behind. All the physical evidence could do was confirm that the
suspect had touched that item at some point prior to the print's
discovery.
Through the end of my case-in-chief, the only witness Lisa
cross-examined in any detail was Dave Renshaw, Derringer's probation
officer. She didn't get far.
The sole purpose of Renshaw's testimony was to show that when Renshaw
saw Derringer's private parts a few weeks before Kendra was assaulted,
they were still covered with hair like most other people's privates.
Lisa tried to rattle Renshaw's testimony by pointing out that he didn't
actually examine Derringer physically and was not looking specifically
at that physical feature. In the end, though, there was no way to get
around the obvious: A shorn scrotum stands out.
The only other line of questioning she had for Renshaw concerned
Derringer's probation record. Renshaw admitted on cross that Derringer
had kept all their appointments, stayed in regular contact with him,
and maintained regular employment. Lopez even went through a list of
the various temp jobs Derringer had worked since he got parole: day
labor, grill cooking, stockrooms, inventories.
I could've objected on the basis that Lisa's questions called for
inadmissible character evidence. She was, after all, trying to
establish that Derringer had been keeping his nose clean, which had
nothing to do with the issues in the trial. But any objection would
invite a bullshit attempt to justify the evidence in front of the jury.
Lisa would probably argue something to the effect that the evidence
contradicted the State's theory that Derringer planned the abduction
ahead of time or was associating with a possible accomplice. I figured
any minimal benefit she got out of the questioning was a reasonable
price to pay to avoid giving her an opportunity to make a speech for
the jury.
As it turned out, Renshaw was a pro who could diffuse Lisa's points on
cross without my assistance on redirect. After Lisa had established
that Derringer had reported all address changes, met all appointments,
spoken regularly with Renshaw, and worked full-time on parole, she
asked one question too many: "Isn't it true, Mr. Renshaw, that Mr.
Derringer complied fully with the conditions of his parole?" "Sure,
counselor. I guess you could say he was a model parolee except for the
fact that he kidnapped, raped,
sodomized, and tried to murder a thirteen-year-old girl." I think I
saw Lesh smile as Lisa leapt to her feet to object.
Her objection was sustained, but the exchange kept Lisa quiet for the
rest of my case-in-chief.
Ten.
I had spent the week presenting my case to the jury, witness by
witness. Building a prison for Frank Derringer with evidence, each
piece stacking upon the last like bricks. Now I was ready to sit back
and watch Lisa Lopez struggle to save face. I wanted it. I wanted it
bad. I tried not to look smug and amused, which I was, when she stood
on Thursday afternoon for her mid-trial opening.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my point is a simple one." She put
her hands on Derringer's shoulders. "This man, Frank Derringer, is
Lopez walked to the front of the jury box and continued. "Ms. Kincaid
has done a fine job of presenting evidence the way she wants you to
hear it. But what I want you to hear, and what you will conclude to be
true, is that Frank Derringer finds himself on trial for a crime he
didn't commit because a troubled and confused young girl who has led a
very sad life mistakenly identified him as she was coming out of a
heroin-induced haze."
Although Lopez conceded that Kendra "may have been subjected to
horrendous acts," she went on to remind the jurors of the presumption
of Derringer's innocence and the oath they had taken to evaluate the
evidence dispassionately. But she wasn't just arguing that there would
be a reasonable doubt about Derringer's guilt. She was using the word
innocent repeatedly. The defense's position wasn't just that Derringer
was not guilty in the legal sense because the State couldn't make its
case, but that he was factually innocent. Jurors feel better about
acquitting someone they believe is innocent, but Lisa's strategy was
risky. It's harder to prove innocence than to establish reasonable
doubt.
Lisa's quiet, contemplative tone became more urgent as she talked to
the jurors about Derringer's alibi. Then she shifted her theme. "By
the end of this trial, you will realize that Kendra Martin is a victim,
but my client is as well. In fact, I believe that we will prove to you
that both Mr. Derringer and Miss Martin are victims of the same
wrongdoing."
I tried to maintain my typical trial composure, looking as bored as
possible while the defense presents its case. But for the life of me,
I couldn't figure out where Lisa was going with her statement.
"The wrongdoing that has brought Kendra Martin, Frank Derringer, and
all of us together began about four years ago. Four years ago,
Portland police officers found the body of another troubled young girl
named Jamie Zimmerman in the Columbia Gorge. Jamie wasn't as lucky as
Kendra. She was murdered strangled after being raped and beaten. Like
Miss Martin, Jamie was a drug addict who supported her habit through
occasional prostitution. Like Ms. Martin, she was raped and
sodomized. Pol
ice found Jamie's badly decomposed body less than a mile
from where Kendra Martin was located. Ms. Kincaid mentioned that
whoever committed this crime took Kendra's purse. Well, guess what,
ladies and gentlemen? Whoever killed Jamie Zimmerman took her purse
too, and it was never recovered.
"Those are enough similarities that you're probably thinking to
yourself right now that the two crimes might be connected. You'd
certainly think our police would at least look into it, especially when
you learn that the same detectives who testified in this case
investigated Jamie Zimmerman's murder."
I was seething. How the hell did Lopez think she was going to get away
with blind siding me this way? I didn't know every detail of the Jamie
Zimmerman investigation, but I knew enough to recognize that Lopez was
trying to take advantage of that case's recent revival in the media to
confuse the jury. I also knew that she had never bothered to mention
to me that her defense had anything to do with the Zimmerman case.
There was nothing I could do, though, without playing into Lisa's hand.
Any outburst from me would only add dramatic emphasis to her opening
statement. So I sat there quietly while Lisa told the jurors about
Margaret Landry and Jesse Taylor and their protestations of innocence,
the recent letter to the Oregonian confessing to Jamie Zimmerman's
murder, and a supposed conspiracy among Portland police to conceal the
truth.
"Because a jury didn't hear the truth about that case three years ago,
innocent people were convicted. I don't want you to make the same
mistake. I don't want you to convict an innocent person. So I'm going
to make sure you get all the evidence. You're going to hear not only