Open and Shut - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,68
her as well, but instead of attacking her he ran off. She thanks God for that every day, and she especially thanks God that she was able to pick him out of a lineup the next day.
Cathy is a very credible witness, and based on the jury's reaction to her I don't know whether to cross-examine her or ask for her autograph.
“Ms. Pearl,” I begin, “was it unusual for you to cut through this particular alley?”
“No, I do it every night.”
“Every night? At the same time?”
“Yes. I got off at one o'clock, and I sure didn't hang around. At one sharp, I was out of there. Every night.”
“So anybody watching your pattern over some time would have known you were going to be there?”
“Why would somebody want to do that? I don't think anybody was watching me.”
“I understand that. But if somebody were watching you, even if you were unaware of it, they would know that you go by there every night just after one o'clock?”
She looks at Wallace for help, but there is none forthcoming.
“I suppose so, yes.”
“Thank you. Now, you testified that you didn't actually see the defendant stabbing Denise McGregor, you just saw him standing over her body. Is that correct?”
Cathy nods a little too hard, pleased that this is something she can agree with. “Right. He was just sort of standing there, looking at me. Not moving much.”
“I would think something like that must have been very scary, particularly at that time of night.”
Another vigorous nod. “Yes, it was.”
“Did you run away?”
“Well, no … not right then … at first I didn't know it was a body he was standing over. It was dark.”
“Dark?”
She quickly tries to correct what she realizes was a bad move. “Not so dark that I couldn't see.”
I nod. “I understand. It was the kind of dark where you could see a face but not a body. That kind of dark.”
“Well …”
“And then the defendant looked at you. Is that right?”
“Right. And he looked weird. Out of it.”
“Maybe drunk?”
“Right. Yes.”
“And what was he doing with the knife?”
“I didn't see a knife,” she says.
I look at the jurors, to confirm that they find this as confusing as I do. They don't, but they will.
“Help me out here. In the kind of dark where one can see faces but not bodies, do knives show up?”
Wallace stands. “Objection, Your Honor. This is badgering.”
“Sustained. Rephrase the question.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” I turn back to Cathy. “So you didn't see a knife?”
“I've said that all along. I didn't see a knife. I'm not saying it wasn't there, I just didn't see it.”
“No doubt he had run three blocks, placed it in the trash with his fingerprints and blood still on it, and returned in time to be there for your one o'clock walk.”
This was aimed at Wallace, but Cathy feels the need to defend herself.
“I know what I saw.” She points to Willie. “I saw him.”
I shake my head sadly. “No, Ms. Pearl, I'm afraid you have no idea what you saw.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. Watch it, Mr. Carpenter.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I say, “I will.” So I rephrase: “Now, Ms. Pearl, since it was light enough to see the defendant's face, and since he looked right at you, is it fair to say he could see your face?”
“Sure … I guess.”
“But he didn't try to hurt you? To do to you what you believe he did to Denise McGregor?”
“No, he just ran away.”
“Yet he should have realized that you could identify him, isn't that right?”
“I guess …”
“He would have known you could someday be an eyewitness, just like you are now?”
“I suppose so.”
“Maybe he had nothing to hide,” I say. “No further questions.”
Wallace gets up to rehabilitate her. “Ms. Pearl, when was the next time you saw the defendant after that night?”
“The next morning, at the police station. He was in the lineup. I picked him out right away.”
“With other men?”
Cathy nods. “A bunch of them.”
“And you had no doubt he was the man you saw in the alley the previous night?”
“No doubt. He was the one. I was positive then, and I'm just as positive now.”
Cathy leaves the stand. I definitely did not do enough to damage her. She seemed credible and has no reason to lie. If I were on the jury, I would believe her. And if I believed her, I would vote to convict Willie Miller of murder in the first degree.
I barely have time to reflect on how depressing the situation is when it gets considerably