The Fence - Dick Lehr [143]
“Keep your minds suspended,” the judge advised, a reminder there was still plenty to come. Even so, Sinsheimer was pleased the jurors were heading home with Steve Roach’s words percolating in their minds as the first impression of the case to come.
Everyone in Courtroom 18 was well aware the case was unfolding along with the holiday season, and Judge Young made clear to all of the attorneys his expectation that the trial conclude before Christmas. If ever there was a judge who could deliver on that promise, it was Young—a stickler for preparation and efficiency. He regularly discussed with the attorneys the progress of the case and the time needed for witnesses.
The next morning began with a quick succession of opening arguments from the attorneys for Williams, Daley, and Burgio. They went about attacking the circumstantial case Roach was pledging to present against their clients. It wasn’t close to being as clean and clear as Roach portrayed, they argued, and was bereft of direct evidence, except for the testimony of a drug dealer named Robert “Smut” Brown who had zero credibility.
The first up was Williams’s attorney, Dan O’Connell. The veteran trial practitioner had replaced Carol Ball as Williams’s lawyer when Ball became a state judge. “It’s my privilege to represent Dave Williams,” he told the jury, “who’s seated over there, a Boston policeman.” Each defense attorney seemed to stake out certain themes, and O’Connell’s was that the plaintiff’s evidence was a jumbled mess. “Mr. Roach wants, has indicated that this evidence is going to show certain things happened,” he said. Except there’s a problem: “It’s internally inconsistent depending on which witness talks.”
Next up, Ian Daley’s attorney, Tom Hoopes, went after Mike. He said Mike and his lawyers had come to court acting as if “they wear the white hats.” Not even close, he said. “Things are not as white or black as the plaintiffs suggest.” He called Mike Cox and Craig Jones “two cowboys” for cutting in front of Daley to become the lead police car. They violated a rule that unmarked cruisers not lead chases and put themselves in “harm’s way,” he said, implying Mike Cox was asking for trouble.
Like O’Connell, Hoopes called the case wrongheaded, forcing his client to now defend himself despite his innocence. “Why? Because Mike Cox has brought the suit that you sit on here today. Seeking what? Seeking money.” Mike, he said, was money grubbing. “I’m going to come back at the end of this case, ladies and gentlemen, and ask you one thing. I’m going to ask you not to let gray become green. I’m going to ask you not to let money color, subvert, and twist justice and the truth.”
The gloves had come off. Tom Drechsler, representing Jimmy Burgio in absentia, jumped right in where Hoopes left off. “We don’t want to be here. We didn’t bring this lawsuit.” Mike Cox, he said, “has brought this lawsuit for the purpose of getting money, financial remuneration.” Drechsler ridiculed Roach’s bid to use Teahan and Ryan to seal the dead end. “This is not a closed container.” Police continued streaming down Woodruff Way and were running up from below on foot through a hole in the fence. “Municipal police, state police, Milton police, MBTA police, Housing Authority police, security guards—all were present at this location this particular night.”
Drechsler said the evidence Roach was touting was smoke and mirrors—completely unreliable, given the wild and fast-breaking events at the dead end—“a very chaotic, confusing, dark situation.” Sure, Mike Cox was beaten, but those guilty of the assault fled like ghosts into the night. Jimmy Burgio was a hero, not a beater. “My client did nothing more that night but make an arrest of one of these desperadoes, these murderers.” Most important, he told jurors, they would not hear a single witness linking Burgio to the assault.
“You will hear not one witness