Try Fear - By James Scott Bell Page 0,47

been on the first Phil Spector prosecution team for a short time. He was about five-ten, with thinning hair the color of a cowhide briefcase. He wore a plain but crisp gray suit.

Experience has taught me these are the lawyers you really have to watch. There was a guy my old firm tangled with more than once, a defense lawyer for the insurance companies. The guy pulled down a million and a half a year, but when he showed up in court you’d have thought he was a cheese knife salesman from Schenectady.

And juries loved him. They had no idea he was a wealthy lawyer with homes in Beverly Hills, Vail, and Orlando. He was a “man of the people,” who just happened to be representing an insurance company.

He cleaned our clocks a couple of times. The third time Pierce McDonough was ready for him, got his own rumpled suit, and beat him to the tune of fifty million in a medical malpractice case.

So even though we shook hands, and he was all smiles, I was not going to get sandbagged by any cornpone.

Kate was sitting in the gallery with Sister Mary. When they brought Eric into the courtroom, in his prison garb, and shackled him to the chair, I caught a glimpse of Kate. She was holding a tissue up to her eyes. Sister Mary patted her gently on the arm.

68

JUDGE PRAKASH GOT us underway at 9:05 a.m.

Just after stating my appearance, I said, “Judge, if I may request that my client not be shackled during the hearing. He’s certainly not an escape risk.”

Radavich wasted no time shooting to his feet. “Mere statement of counsel is not authority, Your Honor. There is no reason to deviate from procedure in this instance.”

“This isn’t Ben-Hur, Your Honor. Mr. Richess is not a slave to be chained to an oar.”

Prakash smiled. “Colorful analogy, Mr. Buchanan. But will the restraints impede your client’s ability to participate in the hearing?”

“It impedes his ability to be treated like a man presumed to be innocent.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” the judge said. “Let’s get on with the hearing.”

Radavich started off with an LAPD blue suiter named Baron. He was sworn and gave his name for the record.

“What is your current position, Officer Baron?” Radavich asked.

“I’m a patrol officer–two, working out of Hollywood Division.”

“And how long have you been with the department?”

“Four years last month.”

“And were you on duty on the night of January thirtieth?”

“Yes, with my partner, Officer Trujillo.”

“Please describe what occurred at around ten-thirty.”

“We answered a call at ten-thirty-three p.m., a complaint about loud music coming from an apartment. We arrived at the location at ten-forty-five and proceeded to the apartment where the music was coming from.”

“The music was still playing?” Radavich said.

“Yes.”

“Was it loud?”

“Very loud. Rock music of some kind.”

“But you could hear it through the door?”

“Yes. And down the hall. It was obviously a disturbance to the neighbors.”

“What happened next?”

“I spoke to the next-door neighbor, who said she had pounded on the walls, and finally the door, but got no response. Which is when she decided to call in a complaint.”

“The neighbor?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do then?”

“I knocked on the door and announced my presence. I waited approximately ten seconds, then knocked again, and announced again. When there was still no answer, my partner called our supervisor at Hollywood Station to come in.”

“You did not attempt to enter the apartment or get a manager to unlock it?”

“Not at that time.”

“Why not?”

“There were no exigent circumstances. Loud music alone is not enough. The decision to enter goes to a field sergeant supervisor. Sergeant Leon arrived ten minutes after our call. He then directed the building manager to use a master key to unlock the door.”

“Describe for the court what you found when you entered the apartment.”

“There was loud music coming from one of the iPod systems, in the front room.”

“Can you explain a little more what that looked like?”

“Yes. It was about the size of a toaster oven, with speakers, and there’s a place in the center where you put the iPod.”

“What did you do next?”

“My partner and I began a sweep of the apartment.”

“Did you turn off the iPod?”

“Not at that time. We wanted to keep the element of surprise if anyone was in the apartment who shouldn’t be.”

“What did you find during your sweep?”

“In the kitchen I found a male Caucasian in a chair at the kitchen table. His head was slumped over the back of the chair. He appeared