Defending Jacob(88)
“The second objection is that it is improperly prejudicial. It is guilt by insinuation. He is trying to poison the jury with the suggestion that the father must have known the son was involved and therefore he must have been up to something improper. But there’s no evidence either that the father suspected his son—which he certainly did not—or that he did anything improper when he was leading the investigation. Let’s be honest: the prosecutor wants to toss a stink bomb into this courtroom to distract the jury from the fact that there is virtually no direct evidence against the defendant. It’s—”
“Okay, okay, I got it.”
Logiudice: “Your Honor, how important it is, that’s for the jury to decide. But they have a right to know. The defendant can’t have it both ways: he can’t argue that the cops screwed up and then conveniently leave out the fact that the cop in charge was the defendant’s own father.”
The judge: “I’m going to allow it. But Mr. Logiudice, I’m warning you, if this trial gets sidetracked into a discussion of whether the father screwed up, intentionally or not, I’m going to cut it off. The defense has a point: that’s not the case we’re here to try. If you want to indict the father, do it.”
The transcript does not record Logiudice’s reaction, but I remember it well. He looked across the courtroom directly at me.
Returning to the little lectern near the jury box, he faced Nils Peterson and resumed his questions. “Detective, I’ll repeat the question. Who was the assistant DA assigned to the case that day?”
“Andrew Barber.”
“Do you see Andrew Barber in the courtroom here today?”
“Yes, he’s right there, beside the defendant.”
“And did you know Mr. Barber when he was an assistant DA? Did the two of you ever work together?”
“Sure, I knew him. We worked together many times.”
“Were you friendly with Mr. Barber?”
“Yes, I’d say so.”
“Did it occur to you at the time that it was odd Mr. Barber was handling a case involving his own son’s school, a classmate, a boy he might even have known something about?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, did it seem strange to you that Mr. Barber’s son might well become a witness in the case?”
“No, I didn’t think about that.”
“But, when he was leading the case, the defendant’s father pushed for a suspect who turned out not to be involved, a man who lived near the park who had a record as a sexual offender?”
“Yes. His name was Leonard Patz. He had a record for indecent A&Bs on kids, things like that.”
“And Mr. Barber—Andrew Barber, the father—wanted to pursue this man as a suspect, did he not?”
“Objection. Relevance.”
“Sustained.”
Logiudice: “Detective, while the defendant’s father was leading the investigation, did you consider Leonard Patz as a suspect?”
“Yes.”
“And Patz was later cleared when the defendant’s own son was charged?”
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
Peterson hesitated here, seeing the trap. If he went too far to help his friend, he would necessarily help the defense. He tried to find a middle way. “Patz was not charged.”
“And when Mr. Barber’s son was charged, were you surprised at that point by Mr. Barber’s earlier involvement in the case?”
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
“I thought it was surprising, yes, in the sense—”
“Have you ever heard of a prosecutor or a cop becoming involved in an investigation of his own son?”
Cornered, Peterson drew a deep breath. “No.”
“It would be a conflict of interest, wouldn’t it?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. Move on, Mr. Logiudice.”
Logiudice asked a few more desultory, halfhearted questions, relishing the afterglow of a victory. When he sat down, he had the dopey, flushed face of a man who just got laid, and he kept his head down until he could overmaster it.
On cross, Jonathan again did not bother to attack much of anything Peterson had said about the crime scene, because again there was virtually nothing in his rendition that pointed to Jacob. There was so little trace of antagonism between these two soft-spoken guys, in fact, and the questions were all so inconsequential, that it might have been a defense witness Jonathan was questioning.
“The body was lying in a twisted position when you arrived at the scene, is that right, Detective?”
“Yes.”
“So, given the fact the body had been moved, some evidence had been lost even before you arrived. For example, the position of the body can often help you reconstruct the attack itself, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“And when the body is flipped over, the effect of lividity—or the blood settling with gravity—is also reversed. It’s like turning over a sand timer: the blood starts to flow the other way, and the inferences you usually draw from lividity are lost, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. I’m not a forensics expert, but yes.”
“Understood, but you are a homicide detective.”