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“Lights,” D’Amato ordered.
One of the corrections officers flicked switches that killed all the lights in the room except the floodlights shining on the platform. The people in the room would be only barely visible to the men on the platform.
“Okay,” D’Amata ordered. “Bring them in.”
The door to the room at the end of the platform opened, and eight men came into the room and took the two steps up to the platform.
“Stand directly under the number, look forward,” D’Amato ordered. The men complied.
The Major Crimes lieutenant with the 35-mm camera walked in front of the men sitting in the chairs. He took three flash photographs, one from the left, one from the center, and one from the right.
“You didn’t have to do that, Jason,” Giacomo said.
“Oh, yes, I did, Manny.” Washington said. “I only get burned once.”
I wonder what the hell that’s all about, Stillwell thought, and then the answer came to him: I will get copies of those photographs. If Giacomo suggests during the trial that Monahan was able to pick out Estivez because the other people in the lineup were conspicuously different in age, or size, or complexion, or whatever, I can introduce the pictures he’s taking.
He remembered what Tony Callis had said about Washington having forgotten more about criminal law than he knew.
“Number one, step forward,” D’Amato ordered when the photographer had stepped out of the way.
“Number three,” Albert J. Monahan said positively.
“Just a moment, please, Mr. Monahan,” Washington said.
“Number three is one of them. I recognize the bastard when I see him.”
“Mr. Monahan,” Washington said, “I ask you now if you recognize any of the men on the platform.”
“Number three,” Monahan said impatiently. “I told you already.”
“Can you tell us where you have seen the man standing under the number three on the platform?” Washington asked.
“He’s one of the bastards who came into the store and robbed it and shot it up.”
“You are referring to January third of this year, and the robbery and murder that occurred at Goldblatt’s furniture store on South Street?”
“Yes, I am.”
“There is no question in your mind that the man standing under number three is one of the participants in that robbery and murder?”
“None whatever. That’s one of them. That’s him. Number three.”
“Mr. Giacomo?” Washington asked.
Armando G. Giacomo shook his head, signifying that he had nothing to say.
“Jason?” Joe D’Amato asked.
“We’re through with this bunch,” Washington said.
“Take them out,” D’Amata ordered.
A corrections officer opened the door at the end of the platform and gestured for the men on the platform to get off it.
That man didn’t show any sign of anything at all when Monahan picked him out, Stillwell thought. What kind of people are we dealing with here?
“Mr. Monahan,” Giacomo said. “I see that you’re wearing glasses.”
