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This annoyed Judge Froman, an attractive blond-haired jurist, mother of five, who’d been addressed as Your Honor for half her life. Now she banged her gavel and demanded quiet. “Phones off. No talking while court is in session. Don’t make me say this again.”
Birney cleared his throat and looking up at the judge said, “I’m not usually like this. My old dog died last night. Sarge was seventeen.”
The Judge said, “Do you need a break?”
“I’d rather just go on,” Birney said. “My memory of the events is clear. If Your Honor doesn’t mind.”
“All right. Go ahead, then.”
Birney picked up where he’d left off.
“There’s a laundry room downstairs and upon entering I see a Caucasian female, about forty, maybe a hundred fifteen pounds, lying on the floor, her wrists chained to the base of a utility sink.”
Birney was focusing now, speaking directly to the jury.
“Her clothes are shredded. Buttons are torn off, pants, ripped open, pulled below her knees, no panties. She’s gagged and her ankles are taped to weights. She’s bleeding profusely from numerous cuts and gouges. It looks like her left eye is half-popped-out. Blood is pooling around her head.
“I call her name,” Birney said. “She doesn’t respond, but I hear her wheezy breathing. Soft. Irregular. I radio my partner and tell him we need an ambulance and detectives. I identifymyself to the woman. I tell her help is on the way. I ask her who did this, and where is her family and she still doesn’t answer. I want to comfort her but I can’t risk contaminating the scene. I take pictures from the doorway and zoom in on the implements near her. Pretty soon, I hear sirens.”
Yuki asked, “Can you list and describe these implements?”
Birney swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and flipped to a page in his evidence log.
He read, “Bicycle chain and lock. Bolt cutter. There’s a twenty-four-inch tire iron, a long, serrated bread knife, a coil of nylon marine line. Yellow. Uhh, two twenty-pound free weights and a partial roll of Gorilla Tape. This is the tape that was used to keep the gag in her mouth. And to affix her ankles to the weights.”
He put down the notebook and added, “One more thing. There’s a bloody handprint on the wallpaper near the door and writing that looks like it was made with a bloody finger. It says, ‘I love you.’ I took some shots of that.”
Yuki entered the photos into evidence and passed them to the jury foreman, George Campbell, a retired high-school science teacher. Birney had come through. She’d been moved by how he had managed to overcome his grief and deliver honest, emotional testimony that also affected the jury.
She put one last question to her witness. “Can you confirm the identity of the woman you found in the basement?”
“Barbara Sullivan.”
Yuki thanked him and said to Judge Froman, “We have no more questions for Sergeant Birney, Your Honor.”
CHAPTER 13
ATTORNEY MAURICE SWITZER, counsel for defendant Lewis Sullivan, stood and said, “The defense has no questions at this time.”
Yuki glanced at the counsel table across the aisle. Lewis Sullivan looked straight ahead. He had replaced his bulldog attorney, Cal Talbot, with Mo Switzer just days before trial commenced. Switzer was charming, low-key, and could present a sympathetic face to the jurors before pulling a winning closing statement out of his hat. If the jurors liked Mo as much as she did, his personality alone could tilt the verdict.
Cindy watched from her preferred seat at the back of the courtroom. The charge of attempted murder against the husband and the apparent near-death spousal abuse had the ingredients of a big headline story.
Yuki asked that her next witness be called.
Officer Martin Brodsky, wearing his blues and a smart, stylish haircut came through the courtroom doors. He walked up the aisle to the witness stand and was sworn in.
Brodsky was thirty years old, good-looking, a bit cocky, and Yuki thought he was something of a risk. Birney, however, liked him, saying, “Marty’s good police. And he has a sharp eye for detail.”
Yuki took a stance in the well that gave her a clear view of both the witness and the jury box.
She said, “Officer Brodsky, did you respond with Sergeant Birney to the Sullivan house?”
“Yes, I sure did.”
“When did you see Mrs. Sullivan for the first time?”
“I saw her when the EMTs brought her out on a stretcher. She was totally messed up. Injured and unconscious.”
