Golantz called the case’s lead investigator to the stand after the afternoon break. It was a stroke of genius and master planning. John Kinder would hold center stage until court was adjourned for the day, and the jurors would go home with his words to consider over dinner and then into the night. And there was nothing I could do about it but watch.
Kinder was a large, affable black man who spoke with a fatherly baritone. He wore reading glasses slipped down to the end of his nose when referring to the thick binder he’d carried with him to the stand. Between questions he would look over the rims at Golantz or the jury. His eyes seemed comfortable, kind, alert, and wise. He was the one witness I didn’t have a comeback for.
With Golantz’s precise questioning and a series of blowups of crime scene photos—which I had been unsuccessful in keeping out on the grounds they were prejudicial—Kinder led the jury on a tour of the murder scene and what the evidence told the investigative team. It was purely clinical and methodical but it was supremely interesting. With his deep, authoritative voice, Kinder came off as something akin to a professor, teaching Homicide 101 to every person in the courtroom.
I objected here and there when I could in an effort to break the Golantz/Kinder rhythm, but there was little I could do but nut it out and wait. At one point I got a text on my phone from the gallery and it didn’t help ease my concerns.
Favreau: They love this guy! Isn’t there anything you can do?
Without turning to glance back at Favreau I simply shook my head while looking down at the phone’s screen under the defense table.
I then glanced at my client and it appeared that he was barely paying attention to Kinder’s testimony. He was writing notes on a legal pad but they weren’t about the trial or the case. I saw a lot of numbers and the heading foreign distribution underlined on the page. I leaned over and whispered to him.
“This guy’s killing us up there,” I said. “Just in case you’re wondering.”
A humorless smile bent his lips and Elliot whispered back.
“I think we’re doing fine. You’ve had a good day.”
I shook my head and turned back to watch the testimony. I had a client who wasn’t concerned by the reality of his situation. He was well aware of my trial strategy and that I had the magic bullet in my gun. But nothing is a sure thing when you go to trial. That’s why ninety percent of all cases are settled by disposition before trial. Nobody wants to roll the dice. The stakes are too high. And a murder trial is the biggest gamble of them all.
But from day one, Walter Elliot didn’t seem to get this. He just went about the business of making movies and working out foreign distribution and seemingly believed that there was no question that he would walk at the end of the trial. I felt my case was bulletproof but not even I had that kind of confidence.
After the basics of the crime scene investigation were thoroughly covered with Kinder, Golantz moved the testimony toward Elliot and the investigator’s interaction with him.
“Now, you have testified that the defendant remained in Deputy Murray’s patrol car while you initially surveyed the crime scene and sort of got the lay of the land, correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“When did you first speak with Walter Elliot?”
Kinder referred to a document in the binder open on the shelf at the front of the witness stand.
“At approximately two thirty, I came out of the house after completing my initial survey of the crime scene and I asked the deputies to take Mr. Elliot out of the car.”
“And then what did you do?”
“I told one of deputies to take the handcuffs off him because I didn’t think that was necessary any longer. There were several deputies and investigators on the scene by this point and the premises were very secure.”
“Well, was Mr. Elliot under arrest at that point?”
“No, he wasn’t and I explained that to him. I told him that the guys—the deputies—had been taking every precaution until they knew what they had. Mr. Elliot said he understood this. I asked if he wanted to continue to cooperate and show the members of my team around inside and he said, yes, he would do it.”
“So you took him back inside the house?”
“Yes. We had him put on booties first so as not to contaminate anything and then we went back inside. I had Mr. Elliot retrace the exact steps he said he had taken when he came in and found the bodies.”
I made a note about the booties being a bit late, since Elliot had already shown the first deputies around inside. I’d potshot Kinder with that on cross.
“Was there anything unusual about the steps he said he had taken or anything inconsistent in what he told you?”
I objected to the question, saying that it was too vague. The judge agreed. Score one inconsequential point for the defense. Golantz simply rephrased and got more specific.
“Where did Mr. Elliot lead you in the house, Detective Kinder?”
“He walked us in and we went straight up the stairs to the bedroom. He told us this was what he had done when he entered. He said he then found the bodies and called nine-one-one from the phone next to the bed. He said the dispatcher told him to leave the house and go out front to wait and that’s what he did. I asked him specifically if he had been anywhere else in the house and he said no.”
“Did that seem unusual or inconsistent to you?”
“Well, first of all, I thought it was odd if true that he’d gone inside and directly up to the bedroom without initially looking around the first level of the house. It also didn’t jibe with what he told us when we got back outside the house. He pointed at his wife’s car, which was parked in the circle out front, and said that was how he knew she had somebody with her in the house. I asked him what he meant and he said that she parked out front so that Johan Rilz, the other victim, could use the one space available in the garage. They had stored a bunch of furniture and stuff in there and that left only one space. He said the German had hidden his Porsche in there and his wife had to park outside.”
“And what was the significance of that to you?”
“Well, to me it showed deception. He’d told us that he hadn’t been anywhere in the house but the bedroom upstairs. But it was pretty clear to me he had looked in the garage and seen the second victim’s Porsche.”
Golantz nodded emphatically from the lectern, driving home the point about Elliot being deceptive. I knew I would be able to handle this point on cross but I wouldn’t get the chance until the next day, after it had percolated in the brains of the jury for almost twenty-four hours.
“What happened after that?” Golantz asked.
“Well, there was still a lot of work to do inside the house. So I had a couple members of my team take Mr. Elliot to the Malibu substation so he could wait there and be comfortable.”
“Was he arrested at this time?”
“No, once again I explained to him that we needed to talk to him and if he was still willing to be cooperative, we were going to take him to an interview room at the station, and I said that I would get there as soon as possible. Once again he agreed.”
“Who transported him?”
“Investigators Joshua and Toles took him in their car.”
“Why didn’t they go ahead and interview him once they got to the Malibu station?”
“Because I wanted to know more about him and the crime scene before we talked to him. Sometimes you get only one chance, even with a cooperating witness.”
“You used the word ‘witness.’ Wasn’t Mr. Elliot a suspect at this time?”
It was a cat-and-mouse game with the truth. It didn’t matter how Kinder answered, everybody in the courtroom knew that they had drawn a bead on Elliot.
“Well, to some extent anybody and everybody is a suspect,” Kinder answered. “You go into a situation like that and you suspect everybody. But at that point, I didn’t know a lot about the victims, I didn’t know a lot about Mr. Elliot, and I didn’t know exactly what we
had. So at that time, I was viewing him more as a very important witness. He found the bodies and he knew the victims. He could help us.”
“Okay, so you stashed him at the Malibu station while you went to work at the crime scene. What were you doing?”
“My job was to oversee the documentation of the crime scene and the gathering of any evidence in that house. We were also working the phones and the computers and confirming the identities and backgrounding the parties involved.”
“What did you learn?”
“We learned that neither of the Elliots had a criminal record or had any guns legally registered to them. We learned that the other victim, Johan Rilz, was a German national and appeared to have no criminal record or own any weapons. We learned that Mr. Elliot was the head of a studio and very successful in the movie business, things like that.”
“At some point did a member of your team draw up search warrants in the case?”
“Yes, we did. Proceeding with an abundance of caution, we drew up and had a judge sign off on a series of search warrants so we had the authority to continue the investigation and take it wherever it led.”
“Is it unusual to take such steps?”
“Perhaps. The courts have granted law enforcement wide leeway in the gathering of evidence. But we determined that because of the parties involved in this case, we would go the extra mile. We went for the search warrants even though we might not need them.”
“What specifically were the search warrants for?”
“We had warrants for the Elliot house and for the three cars, Mr. Elliot’s, his wife’s, and the Porsche in the garage. We also had a search warrant granting us permission to conduct tests on Mr. Elliot and his clothing to determine if he had discharged a gun in recent hours.”
The prosecutor continued to lead Kinder through the investigation up until he cleared the crime scene and interviewed Elliot at the Malibu station. This set up the introduction of a videotape of the first sit-down interview with Elliot. This was a tape I had viewed several times during preparation for trial. I knew it was unremarkable in terms of the content of what Elliot told Kinder and his partner, Roland Ericsson. What was important to the prosecution about the tape was Elliot’s demeanor. He didn’t look like somebody who had just discovered the naked body of his dead wife with a bullet hole in the center of her face and two more in her chest. He appeared as calm as a summer sunset, and that made him look like an ice-cold killer.
A video screen was set up in front of the jury box and Golantz played the tape, often stopping it to ask Kinder a question and then starting it again. The taped interview lasted ten minutes and was nonconfrontational. It was simply an exercise in which the investigators locked in Elliot’s story. There were no hard questions. Elliot was asked broadly about what he did and when. It ended with Kinder presenting a search warrant to Elliot that the investigator explained granted the Sheriff’s Department access to test his hands, arms, and clothing for gunshot residue.
Elliot smiled slightly as he replied.
“Have at it, gentlemen,” he said. “Do what you have to do.”
Golantz checked the clock on the back wall of the courtroom and then used a remote to freeze the image of Elliot’s half smile on the video screen. That was the image he wanted the jurors to take with them. He wanted them to think about that catch-me-if-you-can smile as they drove home in five o’clock traffic.
“Your Honor,” he said. “I think now would be a good time to break for the day. I will be moving with Deputy Kinder in a new direction after this and maybe we should start that tomorrow morning.”
The judge agreed, adjourning court for the day after once more admonishing the jurors to avoid all media reports on the trial.
I stood at the defense table and watched the jurors file into the deliberation room. I was pretty sure that the prosecution had won the first day, but that was to be expected. We still had our shots coming. I looked over at my client.
“Walter, what do you have going tonight?” I asked.
“A small dinner party with friends. They’ve invited Dominick Dunne. Then I am going to watch the first cut of a film my studio is producing with Johnny Depp playing a detective.”
“Well, call your friends and call Johnny and cancel it all. You’re having dinner with me. We’re going to work.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been ducking me since the trial began. That was okay because I didn’t want to know what I didn’t need to know. Now it’s different. We’re in trial, we’re past discovery, and I need to know. Everything, Walter. So, we’re going to talk tonight, or you’re going to have to hire another lawyer in the morning.”
I saw his face grow tight with checked anger. In that moment, I knew he could be a killer, or at least someone who could order it done.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said.
“Try me.”
We stared at each other for a moment and I saw something about his face relax.
“Make your calls,” I finally said. “We’ll take my car.”
Forty-one
Since I had insisted on the meeting, Elliot insisted on the place. With a thirty-second phone call he got us a private booth at the Water Grill over by the Biltmore and had a martini waiting on the table for him when we got there. As we sat down, I asked for a bottle of flat water and some sliced lemons.
I sat across from my client and watched him study the fresh fish menu. For the longest time I had wanted to be in the dark about Walter Elliot. Usually the less you know about your client, the better able you are to provide a defense. But we were past that time now.
“You called it a dinner meeting,” Elliot said without taking his eyes from the menu. “Aren’t you going to look?”
“I’m having what you’re having, Walter.”
He put the menu to the side and looked at me.
“Fillet of sole.”
“Sounds good.”
He signaled a waiter who had been standing nearby but too intimidated to approach the table. Elliot ordered for us both, adding a bottle of Chardonnay to come with the fish, and told the waiter not to forget about my flat water and lemon. He then clasped his hands on the table and looked expectantly at me.
“I could be dining with Dominick Dunne,” he said. “This better be good.”
“Walter, this is going to be good. This is going to be where you stop hiding from me. This is where you tell me the whole story. The true story. You see, if I know what you know, then I’m not going to get sandbagged by the prosecution. I am going to know what moves Golantz is going to make before he makes them.”
Elliot nodded as though he agreed it was time to deliver the goods.
“I did not kill my wife or her Nazi friend,” he said. “I have told you that from day one.”
I shook my head.
“That’s not good enough. I said I want the story. I want to know what really happened, Walter. I want to know what’s going on or I’m going to be moving on.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No judge is going to let you walk away in the middle of a trial.”
“You want to bet your freedom on that, Walter? If I want off this case, I will find a way off it.”
He hesitated and studied me before answering.
“You should be careful what you ask for. Guilty knowledge could be a dangerous thing.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“But I’m not sure I can.”
I leaned across the table to him.
“What does that mean, Walter? What is going on? I’m your lawyer. You can tell me what you’ve done and it stays with me.”
Before he could speak, the waiter brought a bottle of European water to the table and a side plate of sliced lemons. Enough for everybody in the restaurant. Elliot waited until he had filled my glass and moved away and out of earshot before responding.
“What is going on is that you have been hired to present my defense to the jury. In my estimation you have do
ne an excellent job so far and your preparations for the defense phase are on the highest level. All of this in two weeks. Astonishing!”
“Drop the bullshit!”
I said it too loud. Elliot looked outside the booth and stared down a woman at a nearby table who had heard the expletive.
“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” he said. “The bond of attorney-client confidentiality ends at this table.”
I looked at him. He was smiling but I also knew he was reminding me of what I had already assured him of, that what was said here stayed here. Was it a signal that he was willing to finally talk? I played the only ace I had.
“Tell me about the bribe Jerry Vincent paid,” I said.
At first I detected a momentary shock in his eyes. Then came a knowing look as the wheels turned inside and he put something together. Then I thought I saw a quick flash of regret. I wished Julie Favreau had been sitting next to me. She could have read him better than I could.
“That is a very dangerous piece of information to be in possession of,” he said. “How did you get it?”
I obviously couldn’t tell my client I got it from a police detective I was now cooperating with.
“I guess you could say it came with the case, Walter. I have all of Vincent’s records, including his financials. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he funneled a hundred thousand of your advance to an unknown party. Is the bribe what got him killed?”
Elliot raised his martini glass with two fingers clenching the delicate stem and drank what was left in it. He then nodded to someone unseen over my shoulder. He wanted another. Then he looked at me.
“I think it is safe to say a confluence of events led to Jerry Vincent’s death.”
“Walter, I’m not fucking around with you. I need to know—not only to defend you, but to protect myself.”
He put his empty glass to the side of the table and someone whisked it away within two seconds. He nodded as if in agreement with me and then he spoke.