“And you've been promoted since then?”
Pete nods. “Three times. First came detective three, then four, and then I made lieutenant two years ago.”
“Congratulations,” Wallace says.
“Objection,” I say. “Did Mr. Wallace bring in a cake so we can blow out the candles and celebrate the witness's promotions? Maybe we can sing ‘For he's a jolly good detective.’ ”
“Lieutenant Stanton's career path is relevant to his credibility,” Wallace says.
I shake my head. “He is not here interviewing for a job. He's presenting evidence of his investigation.”
“Sustained,” says Hatchet. “Let's move along.”
Wallace soon gets to the meat of his testimony, which involves the murder weapon.
“Where was the knife recovered, Lieutenant Stanton?”
“From a trash can about three blocks away from the bar. It was in an alley behind Richie's restaurant on Market Street,” Pete answers.
“Do you know whose knife it was?”
Pete nods. “It was one of a set from the bar where the murder took place, and which was subsequently reported missing by the bartender.”
“Now this knife … what was found on it?”
“Blood from the victim, Denise McGregor. And a clear fingerprint match with the defendant, Willie Miller.”
Wallace asks him some more questions, but the damage has been done. If I can't repair it, nothing that follows is going to make any difference. I stand up to face Pete, who digs in as if he were making a goal line stand.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Stanton.”
“Good morning, Mr. Carpenter.”
Thus ends the pleasantries of this particular cross-examination. From now on it's no-holds-barred.
“How did you happen to focus on Willie Miller as a suspect?”
“He was identified by an eyewitness, who saw him standing over the body before he ran off. Her name is Cathy Pearl.”
“This eyewitness, Cathy Pearl, did she say to you, ‘I saw Willie Miller'?”
“No. She was not familiar with his name. She described him, and the bartender told us that it sounded very much like the defendant.”
“So at that point he became your prime suspect?”
“Obviously, it was very early in the investigation, but he became someone we were interested in finding and questioning.”
“And where did you find him?” I ask.
“He was lying in a doorway about two blocks away from the scene.”
“Did he resist when you took him into custody?”
“No, he was incapacitated from alcohol.”
“So he stood up and walked to the car and you took him down to the station?”
“No, as I said, he was incapacitated from alcohol, so he was unable to walk. We called paramedics, and he was taken on a stretcher to the hospital.”
I'm puzzled. “So he ran away from the scene, but couldn't walk to the car?”
“An hour or so had gone by, so he had time to drink more alcohol during that period.”
“Did you find an empty bottle?”
“There were plenty of empty bottles in that area.”
“Any with Willie's saliva on them?”
“We didn't look for them or test them. The alcohol was obviously in his system; there was nothing to be gained by finding out which bottle he drank from.”
“Lieutenant, when you are assigned a case like this, you develop theories, do you not? You try and re-create, at least in your own mind, what happened?”
“I have theories, but first I go where the evidence takes me. My theories follow from the evidence.”
“Fine. So let's talk about that evidence. We'll start with the knife. Now, you testified that it was from a set of knives at the bar where the murder took place, and where Willie Miller worked as a busboy. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is.”
“How, exactly, do you know that?”
Pete is becoming impatient. “It was identical to the ones used at the bar, and one was missing.”
I nod, as if that makes sense. Then I tell Hatchet that the bailiff has two packages that I gave him, and that I would like to use as evidence. Hatchet is suspicious, but allows it, and the bailiff gives me the packages.
I open one of the packages and take out a knife. I ask if I can hand it to the witness. Hatchet allows it.
“Detective, the knife you are holding is one of the knives currently used in the bar where the murder took place. Would you examine it, please?”
Pete looks at the knife, warily eyeing me the whole time. I then open the other package, and take out six additional knives, all apparently identical to the first, and show them to Pete as well.
“One of these six knives is from the same set as the first one, and was also used at the bar. Please tell the jury which one.”
Pete of course cannot, and he is forced to admit so.
“So,” I ask, “the fact that one knife seems identical to another doesn't mean they are from the same restaurant?”