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“Shut up, David. I was a litigator. That counts. So we’re gonna give Red Dog our best. We’re gonna spend the next three hours going over what we both already know.
“We’ve got credible eyewitnesses, the Rooney tape, and a jury that is going to be rolling its eyes at the insanity defense.
“It’s what Len said at the prep meeting: The more random the crime, the less motive for the killings, the more afraid the jury is going to be that Brinkley will get forty-five minutes in a nuthouse and then go free —”
Yuki stopped to take in the grin spreading across David Hale’s face.
“What are you thinking, David? No, I take it back. Please don’t say it,” Yuki said, trying not to laugh.
“Open-and-shut case,” said her new teammate. “Slam dunk.”
Chapter 72
YUKI STOOD IN THE WELL OF THE COURTROOM, feeling as green as if she were trying her first case. She clutched the edges of the lectern, thought how when Len stood behind this thing, it appeared to be the size of a music stand. She was peering over the top of it like a grade-schooler.
The jury looked at her expectantly.
Could she actually convince them that Alfred Brinkley was guilty of capital murder?
Yuki called her first witness, Officer Bobby C
ohen, a fifteen-year veteran of the SFPD, his just-the-facts-ma’am demeanor setting a good solid tone for the People’s case.
She took him through what he had seen when he arrived at the Del Norte, what he had done, and when she finished her direct, Mickey Sherman had only one question for Officer Cohen.
“Did you witness the incident on the ferry?”
“No, I did not.”
“Thank you. That’s all I have.”
Yuki checked off Cohen in her mind, thinking that although Cohen didn’t see the shootings, he’d set the stage for the jurors, putting the picture of human destruction in their minds — an image she would now build upon.
She called Bernard Stringer, the fireman who’d seen Brinkley shoot Andrea and Tony Canello. Stringer lumbered to the stand and was sworn in before taking his seat. He was in his late twenties, with the open-faced, all-American looks of a baseball player.
Yuki said, “Mr. Stringer, what kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a firefighter out of Station 14 at Twenty-sixth and Geary.”
“And why were you on the Del Norte on November first?”
“I’m a weekend dad,” he said, smiling. “My kids just love the ferry.”
“And did anything unusual happen on the day in question?”
“Yes. I saw the shooting on the top deck.”
“Is the shooter in court today?” Yuki asked.
“Yes, he is.”
“Can you point him out to us?”
“He’s sitting right there. The man in the blue suit.”
“Will the court reporter please note that Mr. Stringer indicated the defendant, Alfred Brinkley. Mr. Stringer, how far were you standing from Andrea Canello and her son, Anthony, when Mr. Brinkley shot them?”
“About as far as I am from you. Five or six feet.”
