The 17th Suspect (Women's Murder Club #17)(50)

“As I have said from the beginning, this video is a setup. Marc Christopher recorded it in such a way—”

“Using the same argument isn’t going to change my ruling.”

“Putting our argument aside,” Giftos said, “watching the stark visualization of this sex act is inflammatory and prejudicial in the extreme.

“Once the jury sees it, it cannot be unseen. The spectators and the press will also see it, and even though Briana is entirely innocent of this charge, she will be convicted in the court of public opinion, and that verdict will cling to her for the rest of her life.”

Yuki thought Giftos was making a strong case for excluding the video, and that was very worrying. Without it, her case would hang entirely on Marc’s testimony—and Giftos hadn’t yet set out to discredit him.

Giftos went on.

“Once again I move that the video be excluded. It’s prejudicial, defamatory, and the basis for a whopper of a civil suit against the People of San Francisco.”

Rathburn said, “All right, Mr. Giftos, you’ve made your point. Ms. Castellano?”

Yuki said firmly, “Your Honor, the video is a recording of Ms. Hill threatening violence, brandishing a gun, and raping Mr. Christopher. It’s irrefutable evidence. The jury has to see it or they won’t have the full facts of the crime.”

Rathburn leaned back, considered the remarks, and then returned his seat to its upright position.

“James, here’s what I’m willing to do. I’ll clear the courtroom. The spectators, including the press, will not see the tape, just the jurors. Fair enough?”

Giftos snorted, huffed, and, after a walk over to the windows, returned to the grouping around Judge Rathburn’s desk.

“All right,” said Giftos. “Jurors and no spectators.”

Said Rathburn, “If Ms. Castellano agrees.”

Yuki was ready with her answer. “That works for me, Judge.”

Giftos said, “If it’s okay with you, Your Honor, Ms. Benson can sit with Ms. Hill outside your chambers while Ms. Castellano runs the video.”

Yuki said, “Mr. Christopher can wait in the hallway.”

“Another hurdle cleared,” said Judge Rathburn. “The recording is in.”





CHAPTER 73


THE COURTROOM HAD been cleared of spectators and press.

Sixteen men and women sat in the jury box staring at Yuki as she told Arthur to play the recording.

Lights were dimmed, but it was bright enough for Yuki to see the resolute faces of the jurors. During voir dire they had been told that evidence would include a sexually explicit video, and they were asked if they were willing and able to see such a recording and remain impartial. The twelve plus four had all said yes.

Truth was, it was still hard for Yuki to watch. The screen faced away from her, but she’d seen the ten-minute-long video so many times, she could see the action in her mind.

In the first moments the view of the bed was partially blocked by Marc’s body as he faced the hidden camera and struggled to tie his left hand to the headboard with his right.

Briana’s voice was heard clearly.

Briana: That knot isn’t tight enough, damn it. Fix that, Marc, you stupid little bitch.

Marc: I’m doing it. I’m doing it. Put the gun down, okay? Please, Briana. That thing could go off.



Yuki knew that Marc tightened the knot and then rolled flat onto his back.

Briana: Grip the other bedpost with your right hand. Do what I tell you, Marc, or I will shoot you and walk the hell out of here.



Yuki saw alarm on the jurors’ faces. Mrs. Moloney, for instance, a mother of three and a bank executive, was frowning. At the other end of the row Mr. Koenig, a twentysomething high school math teacher, had drawn back in his seat and was covering his mouth with both hands.

On-screen, even in the darkened room, Marc could be seen nude and spread-eagle on the sheets. Briana Hill, fully dressed, was standing at the foot of the bed, holding a gun with both hands, the muzzle aimed at Marc.

Yuki knew that it was at this point that Briana put the gun down on a chair and cinched a necktie around Marc’s wrist, lashing it to the headboard.

Briana: There. There we go. Got you now.



On the tape Marc was breathing loudly. Could be from panic.

Marc: You’re going too far, Briana. I’m not into this. I don’t even know you right now.



Briana checked each of the ties, then slowly undressed, folding her jacket, sweater, slacks, stacking them on the chair. She peeled off her panties and passed them over Marc’s face, then hung her bra over the footboard.

Marc strained at the ties and could be heard saying, “This is crazy. This is wrong. This isn’t going to work, Briana.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said.

When she was naked, she got onto the bed and, kneeling between Marc’s spread legs, manipulated his genitals with her hands and her mouth before she mounted him.

Two women jurors partially covered their eyes, but there was no way to shut out the sounds of both parties breathing hard, moaning, Briana saying, “Say it, Marc. You like this. This is what you want.”

Briana’s rising, falling, grinding motions would continue for another five minutes and some seconds.

Yuki had an impulse to grab the remote and hit Fast Forward. Arthur shot her a questioning look, and she shook her head no. Eventually the sounds stopped.