The Fifth Witness - Michael Connelly [80]
“Ms. Schafer, I noticed that the prosecutor forgot to ask you if Ms. Trammel was carrying a hammer when you saw her. You didn’t see anything like that, did you?”
“No, I didn’t. But she was carrying a large shopping bag that was more than big enough for a hammer.”
This was the first I had heard about a shopping bag. It had not been mentioned in the discovery materials. Schafer, the ever-helpful witness, was introducing new material. Or so I thought.
“A shopping bag? Did you happen to mention this shopping bag during any of your interviews with the police or the prosecutor on this case?”
Schafer gave it some thought.
“I’m not sure. I may not have.”
“So as far as you remember, the police didn’t even ask if the defendant was carrying anything.”
“I think that’s correct.”
I didn’t know what that meant or if it meant anything at all. But I decided to stay away from the shopping bag for the moment and to steer once again in a new direction. You never wanted the witness to know where you were going.
“Now, Ms. Schafer, when you testified just a few minutes ago that you were three lanes from the sidewalk where you supposedly saw the defendant, you miscounted, didn’t you?”
The second abrupt change of subject matter and the question gave her a momentary pause.
“Uh… no, I did not.”
“Well, what cross street were you at when you saw her?”
“Cedros Avenue.”
“There are two lanes of eastbound traffic on Ventura there, aren’t there?”
“Yes.”
“And then you have a turn lane onto Cedros, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. That makes three.”
“What about the lane of curbside parking?”
She made an Oh, come on face.
“That’s not a real lane.”
“Well, it’s space between you and the woman you claim was Lisa Trammel, isn’t it?”
“If you say so. I think that’s being picky.”
“Really? I think it’s just being accurate, wouldn’t you say?”
“I believe most people would say there were three lanes of traffic between me and her.”
“Well, the parking zone, let’s call it, is at least a car-length wide and actually wider, correct?”
“Okay, if you want to nitpick. Call it a fourth lane. My mistake.”
It was a grudging if not bitter concession and I was sure that the jury was seeing who the real nitpicker was.
“So then you are now saying that when you supposedly saw Ms. Trammel you would’ve been about four lanes away from her, not the three you previously testified to, correct?”
“Correct. I said, my mistake.”
I made a notation on my legal pad that really didn’t mean anything but that I hoped would look to the jurors as though I was keeping some sort of score. I then reached down to my display boards, separated them and chose one.
“Your Honor, I would like to display for the witness a photograph of the location we are talking about here.”
“Has the prosecution seen it?”
“Judge, it was contained on the exhibits CD turned over in discovery. I did not specifically provide the board to Ms. Freeman and she did not ask to see it.”
Freeman made no objection and the judge told me to carry on, calling the first board Defense Exhibit 1A. I set up a folding easel in an open area between the jury box and the witness stand. The prosecution planned to use the overhead screens to present exhibits and later I would as well, but for this demonstration I wanted to go the old-fashioned way. I put the display board up and then returned to the lectern.
“Ms. Schafer, do you recognize the photograph I have put on the easel?”
It was a thirty-by-fifty-inch aerial view of the two-block stretch of Ventura Boulevard in question. Bullocks had gotten it off Google Earth and all it cost us was the price of the blowup and the mounting on the board.
“Yes. It looks like a top view of Ventura Boulevard and you can see the bank and also the intersection with Cedros Avenue about a block away.”
“Yes, an aerial view. Can you please step down and use the marker on the easel’s ledge to circle the spot where you believe you saw Lisa Trammel?”
Schafer looked at the judge as if to seek permission. He nodded his approval and she stepped down. She took the black marker from the ledge and