The Ex(37)

I objected again. “Facts, please, ADA Chandler,” the judge snapped.

“The police seized an entire file cabinet of materials from the defendant’s house, all pertaining to victim Neeley. It would be a strong coincidence indeed that the defendant just happened to be feet from Mr. Neeley’s execution—I mean, fatal shooting. Physical evidence also links the defendant to the crime.” At this point, she was obviously reading from file notes, learning the facts for the first time herself. “He was seen in close proximity to the shooting carrying a picnic basket—a basket that he was holding when he left his apartment, but no longer possessed when he returned home, according to footage from the elevator in his building. It is the People’s theory that this basket was used to conceal the murder weapon. Most important, the shirt the defendant was wearing just shortly after the murder tested positive for gunshot residue.”

Next to me, Jack began quietly protesting in my ear. “What? That’s got to be wrong.” He was looking over his shoulder again. It had been a mistake to bring his daughter. He was worried more about what Buckley thought than his own freedom.

I wrote, LATER, on my legal pad, while Chandler continued. “In short, this is a murder case involving multiple victims—first-degree murder—and a very strong case. The People request detention without bail.”

Chandler’s cut-and-dry approach was exactly what I’d been hoping for. Now it was my turn.

“Your Honor, I objected to Ms. Chandler’s rhetoric for a reason. She is trying to get you to stereotype this case—to make you, and most likely the public, think you already know what this case is about: yet another person with a long-harbored grudge who grabbed a gun to solve the problem. But she glossed over important details. What evidence did she actually present? That my client, Jack Harris, allegedly had a motive? She has told you nothing to suggest that Mr. Neeley was the intended target any more than the other two victims. Even after only one day, our independent investigation reveals that Mr. Hunter was transient and Ms. Frankel was involved in recent illegal drug activity. It’s at least as likely that one of them was the intended victim, rather than Malcolm Neeley.”

I heard murmurs in the gallery. The reporters, like the police, had been chasing down the connection between Jack and Neeley, not bothering to check out the other two victims. I continued my argument. “The ADA emphasizes the lawsuit against one of the three victims, but fails to mention that my client was one of nearly sixty other plaintiffs who sued Malcolm Neeley for failing to supervise his minor son, who killed thirteen people in Penn Station three years ago.” I gestured toward the group of Penn Station families in the courtroom, several of whom either rose or waved. “If you are interested in hearing from them, Your Honor, one of these plaintiffs, Mr. Jonathan Weilly, will testify that, like my client, he was also within close proximity to the shooting yesterday morning, hitting practice balls at the golf range at Chelsea Piers before work. Another, Ms. Lila Condon, was two blocks east at a yoga studio. I have been asking the district attorney’s office for surveillance video from the morning of the shooting to establish that my client was blocks away from the football field at the time of the shooting, but they have failed to turn over any video footage.”

I have been asking was a bit of an exaggeration, given that I had made the request only once, informally of Scott Temple, on the phone last night. But Scott wasn’t here to correct the impression.

“Save all that for trial, Ms. Randall, but I get your point. His mere presence at the waterfront does not overwhelm me, nor does this business about the picnic basket. Last time I checked, plenty of people find ways of carrying guns without using elaborate containers to disguise them. But what about the GSR evidence?”

This was where Chandler’s choice to go for a bare-bones presentation of the People’s evidence could pay off for Jack. “Several police officers appeared at Mr. Harris’s home, based solely on the fact that he was near the shooting location—just a few blocks from his apartment. I have seen no information about how many of those officers had recently fired their weapons, handled other weapons, or processed suspects who may have handled weapons. They also dragged him down to the precinct, where any number of people and items could have been sources of contamination. As you know, Your Honor, gunshot residue is just a matter of transfer. If my client’s shirt tested positive for GSR— and I’m simply taking ADA Chandler at her word on that point—that is not proof he fired a gun. His shirt likely came in contact with residues from one of the many police officers who descended on his apartment without probable cause, or while he was in police custody. Importantly, no trace of residue was found on his hands.”

If this were a real trial, the state would be prepared to call each and every officer to exclude as a potential source of transfer. But, for now, I was confident that Chandler would have nothing to rebut my basic point that GSR evidence had its limitations.

“We have also learned,” I continued, “that Mr. Neeley was involved in far more combative litigation than the case my client shared with his fellow plaintiffs.” I heard more whispers as I launched into the fraud allegations against the Sentry Group based on Neeley’s affair with the wife of one of his principal investors. “And that wasn’t the only dispute about money. We are still investigating, but Mr. Neeley also had some contentious financial disagreements with members of his family that we are exploring. In sum, the People have no evidence. Moreover, ADA Chandler did not even discuss the most important factor for your consideration, Your Honor: whether my client is a flight risk. He is absolutely not. He is a widower. He is the sole parent to a sixteen-year-old daughter, Buckley Harris, whose mother was murdered in Penn Station. Neither he nor his daughter has ever lived outside New York. Mr. Harris writes for a living. His only money comes from book royalties, which he can only earn if his publisher knows where he is. He is in no position to go on the lam.”