Due Process (Joe Dillard #9)(63)

When the tape was over, I said, “Answer any questions the district attorney might have, please.”

Armstrong stood, took a deep breath, and said, “So you’ve gone from being a police detective to being a rat. Congratulations.”

“At least I’m not a criminal like you and Riddle,” Marshall said.

“Enough,” the judge said.

Attababy, I thought.

Armstrong knew he was screwed. He looked up at the judge and said, “The State is willing to concede this photo lineup was unconstitutional, your Honor. We agree it should be excluded, however, that does not prevent our victim from making identifications in the courtroom at trial.”

“There isn’t going to be a trial,” I said beneath my breath.

“Very well,” the judge said. “The identification is excluded. Mr. Dillard, next witness.”

“Call Investigator Bo Riddle,” I said.

“Your Honor, what’s the point?” Armstrong said. “You’ve already excluded the line-up.”

“I think we all deserve to see just how much regard Investigator Riddle has for the judicial process and this court in particular,” I said.

I desperately wanted Riddle on the stand because I knew he was a hothead and I knew he would commit perjury. I wasn’t sure exactly what would wind up coming out of his mouth, but it wouldn’t be good for Armstrong, and I wanted the judge to hear what he had to say while he was under oath.

“Will Investigator Riddle’s testimony be relevant to your motion besides the exclusion of the line-up?” Judge Neese said.

“I think your Honor will find his testimony both compelling and enlightening,” I said.

“Bring Investigator Riddle in,” she said to the bailiff at the door.

Riddle came in looking like an upright turtle. His head was small and slick, and his brown jacket was too tight and his sleeves too short. He’d obviously put on quite a bit of weight and hadn’t bothered to adjust his wardrobe accordingly.

He sat down and took the oath. I decided to go right after him.

“Investigator Riddle, the first time you interviewed my client, Kevin Davidson, you kneed him in the groin, didn’t you?”

He wasn’t expecting the question, and I could tell it threw him.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “If he told you that, he’s a liar.”

“Your former partner just testified that he witnessed you do it,” I said.

“Then he’s a liar, too.”

“Of course he is. Everyone but you is a liar, I’m sure. Investigator Riddle, are you familiar with the report Officer Tonya James filed the morning after she took Sheila Self, the alleged victim in this case, to the hospital?”

“I don’t think I ever read it,” he said.

“Well, you probably should have, because it basically says that Ms. Self was pretty much incoherent when she first picked her up, but upon learning she was going to the mental health center, Ms. Self began to claim she’d been raped by multiple attackers. She could not, however, identify any of her attackers.”

“She identified them later,” Riddle said.

“Right, at a photo lineup that you arranged, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Was there anyone else present at this lineup besides you and Ms. Self?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Would you describe for the court exactly how you conducted the lineup?”

Riddle went into a lengthy description of how he painstakingly put together several photo arrays that he showed to Sheila Self. He said he included white men, black men and Latino men of different ages. He showed Ms. Self the photos in groups of six. Over a two-hour time period, he said, she eventually picked out the three players who had been charged. Every word out of his mouth was a lie, everyone in the courtroom knew it, and he was in it up to his ears. I watched Judge Neese as he testified and could imagine the steam coming from her ears.

When he was finished, I said, “Not a single thing you just said was true. You showed her six photos, all of them black football players in uniform, and you showed her which players to pick. You told her you needed to hear from her that she was one hundred percent sure about the identifications. Did you do it because you had some kind of crush on Ms. Self and wanted to make her think you were helping her or are you just a stone-cold racist? I’m betting you’re a racist.”

Riddle looked at Armstrong for help and then at the judge.

“Are you going to let him get away with calling me a racist?” he said to Judge Neese.

“I’d like to hear what you have to say,” the judge said. “Answer the question.”

“I conducted a by-the-book, constitutionally-sound lineup, and the victim picked out the defendants,” Riddle said.

“Would it surprise you to know that everyone in this courtroom just watched a recording of your constitutionally-sound lineup?” I said. “Your partner at the time, Investigator Marshall, thought you might be a racist. He was concerned about many of the things he’d seen you do and heard you say. So he put a camera in the room where you conducted the lineup. Unusual, don’t you think? A police officer clandestinely taping another police officer like that? But you know what, Investigator Marshall’s instincts were right. Would you like for me to play the tape again?”