Part 4: Trial & Aftermath
Murder trial begins September 1970; Reid vs. Dupree; witnesses from both sides; ballistic evidence contested; Dupree calls trump card Justin Earnest.
Early September of 1970 in New York City was unusually rainy. A weather system had blown in from the Atlantic and hung around the city like a bad cold. For weeks, the sun hid behind dreary, overcast skies of grey. The lack of sunshine and acclimated weather contributed to the general morose mood that pervaded throughout the city.
Jamie Dupree could see that energy in the eyes of her jury during the selection process, a muted colorless apathy compounded by the fact that they had to report for jury duty. She tried to select ones that she thought would be sympathetic to Jesus, working class immigrants and recent college graduates.
When David Reid, prosecuting attorney for the state, did reach a jury selection they could agree on, the crowd represented a realistic slice of the eclectic inhabitants of New York, ranging from single mothers to working professionals, with a healthy mix of racial backgrounds, which Dupree thought would play in her favor, or at least cut down on the cliche stigma of a foreigner killing a white man.
The judge, Timothy Bolton, a seventeen year veteran of the NYPD who spent another dozen years working for the district attorney’s office, reluctantly approved Dupree’s evidence and witness listed, both of which had been sufficiently padded to throw off the state’s ability to guess their game plan, but not so much that a key item, financial documents and photographs of one of the state’s witnesses, had gone without notice. Both sides knew that they were in for a battle. The gloves were off. Any appearance of a fair fight would only serve the purpose of pleasing the judge and the jury. This was a grudge match. Reid and Dupree had faced off before, once in 1968 and once more two years prior. The score was even, with one conviction and one acquittal.
The media would be there, a pack of hungry wolves ready to devour Jesus and paint him into a corner. Keeping an unbiased jury was an impossibility in a case like this, that is unless Dupree could spin a new narrative, taking the focus off of Jesus, which is exactly what she intended and prepared to do.
The night before the trial, Jesus dreamt he was playing a game of poker, not unlike the fateful game where Paul Halman had lost to Leroy White almost two years ago. He was seated at the table with Winston, Rodrigo, Leroy, Andrea, John, and Layla. Sophia was the dealer, and the house. She held all the chips.
Jesus played carefully, only betting when his chances were fair, like he had learned in county, but still, he was steadily bleeding chips. Hand after hand ticked by as his purse slowly shrank, and Leroy’s grew. It seemed that he held all the cards. He couldn’t be bluffed, and when you thought he was bluffing, he had the high hand every time. It was a miracle of luck that Jesus couldn’t understand. It seemed like he was unbeatable.
Players dropped out of the game like flies, and others bought in. It was a rotating cast, with Osito, Juan, Justin, Stars, Lily, and Kelly. It seemed everyone that had a part in the last two years of Jesus’ life would buy in, play for an hour, and lose all their money to Leroy. Everyone except Jesus. He played with his cards close to his chest, betting low and folding often. He tried to figure Leroy out, to guess his pattern of bluffing. If he could just get a lock on his game, Jesus would be able to dismantle the giant. The other players were just pawns. The real game was between Jesus and Leroy, a silent, unspoken struggle between the only real players at the table. They never spoke to each other, but it was in the eyes. It was all in the eyes. The competition was fierce. Just when Jesus thought he had the big man figured out, he would switch his method up.
Jesus awoke before the dream could resolve itself.
“You’ve got court today,” Said the correctional officer. It was trial day. The day that he had waited for since December. It was the culmination of countless hours of focus and determination from Jesus, Dupree, and Winston. The dream hung over him like an omen. Usually, dreams disappear upon waking, like water slipping between your fingers, but this one held steady in his mind. Jesus contemplated its meaning as he ate and waited through the lengthy transportation process to court.
Finally, he donned the classic black suit that Winston had bought him for the trial, complete with a navy blue striped tie, and entered the court room under the guidance of an officer of the law.
The room was packed with a myriad of faces. Jesus spotted a few familiar ones in the crowd, including Winston and Andrea. The media definitely had not missed wind of the trial. They had shown up in force. Jesus didn’t stare and scope them out. Instead, he sat down next to Dupree and gave her a firm handshake. Nothing need be said. They both prepared for this moment. All that needed to happen now was the execution.
The judge began by laying out the ground rules, that both sides would make opening statements, and then have the opportunity to bring up witnesses to testify. The opposing lawyer would be allowed to cross examine them with questions of their own. Then, after both sides had gone, they would be able to make a rebuttal before final closing statements were made. The judge urged the jury to remain impartial and impressed upon them the importance of their duty. Finally, it was time to begin. As always, the state would go first. David Reid approached the center of the room. He was smartly dressed, finely groomed, an air of quiet, intelligent confidence. Jesus swallowed hard as he began to address the court.
“Men and women of the great city of New York, I come to you today in remembrance of a great man, with a plea that you bring his killer to justice. Leroy was an esteemed member of society, a philanthropist who donated millions of dollars to charitable organizations from his business ventures,” He began. Reid was off to a strong start. He had captured the juror’s attention.
Jesus could feel the presence of The Other among them, influencing their minds with his dark ways. Reid was an unknowing conduit of The Other, a speaker for the dead, but also an unwitting cog in John Letters’ machine. The noose was stringing itself together as Reid continued.
“Leroy was a father to three children and a husband to his wife, Karen, who is so distraught with grief that she couldn’t be here today.” Not likely.
“His killer is among us now, sitting behind the defense counsel’s desk,” As Reid turned to face him, Jesus could feel dozens of eyes lock on him, the full attention of the room boring down.
“Jesus Castillo is the definition of a cold blooded killer, a foreigner to our city and our country.
The defense would have you think that this man is a common vagrant, or a misguided youth, but no mistake will be made when you are shown the true nature of his crimes. I am to prove to you that this crime was motivated by a criminal organization, an organization based out of Castillo’s home country of Mexico. He came here for one purpose, to end Mr. White’s life. He is a remorseless killer.”
The words stung. It was all Jesus could do not to shoot up out of his chair and proclaim his innocence.
“You’re going away for a very, very long time,” Whispered John. “There’s no getting out of this one.”
Jesus could hear Rodrigo cackling from the audience’s pews behind him. He resisted the urge to turn and look.
It’s all inside your mind.
”Listen,’ Osito said, “you might miss something.”
“Leroy was killed, ‘execution style’,” Reid said, “Shot in the back of the head at the bottom of a staircase in front of a bar. There is no doubt that this was the product of a trained killer. This wasn’t his first time killing.”
“He’s right about that,” Said Rodrigo.
”This murder was planned out and executed meticulously. If it wasn’t for an anonymous tip, it would never have been the perfect crime. This was not a crime of passion, as the defense will surely argue. This was a perfect, mob-style execution.”
“Nervous yet?” Whispered The Other.
“Stay calm. You can win this,” Said Sophia.
Jesus shut his eyes and tried not to focus on the voices in his mind. They were growing louder, now as present as they had been in the Green Mountain ward’s bathroom. He could see the mirror in front of him now, staring into his own bright eyes, staring into the cold distorted double reflection, staring into the lifeless pits of The Other. It smiled, and his teeth were as sharp as knives. Jesus opened his eyes.
‘“The burden is on you, the jury, to serve justice. We have indisputable proof, including the murder weapon itself, found inside the killer’s home. Ladies and gentlemen, if ever there was a cut and dry case that I have tried, it’s this one. I will let the evidence speak for itself, but before I do, I’ll leave you with a few thoughts,” Reid began pacing the stand, prowling like a predator on the hunt. The defense will try to confuse and mislead you. Trust me, I’ve seen their evidence, and they will try and draw connections where there are none. Do not be misled. Do not lose sight of the cold and merciless nature of this killing. We cannot have a killer like Castillo running loose in our community. Do it for your family, and the safety of the good citizens of New York. Thank you, your honor.”
Jesus looked at Dupree as if to ask, “How the hell are you going to follow that?” Reid had been harsh, but his words were full of conviction. Maybe, Jesus thought, he had laid it on too thick, but every time that Jesus had checked the jury’s response, they had their eyes lock on Reid with unblinking expressions of intent listening.
“The defense may now present its case,” Bolton announced.
“Thank you, your honor,” Dupree said, making her way in front of the jury. “Just a few moments ago, you heard David Reid’s claim that this is a ‘cut and dry,’ case. I’m here to tell you that it is anything but that. In all my experience studying and practicing law, this case has been nothing short of one-of-a-kind. I’m here to tell you, plain and simple, that my client, Jesus Castillo was framed. He was framed because he was an easy target, out alone in the open as a foreigner from a foreign land, and because the real perpetrators of the crime, who are sitting right here in this very court room with us today, stood to gain from Leroy’s untimely demise,” Dupree’s voice was strong and clear, her diction impeccable. She adjusted her notes and paused for a moment to give the jury some time to think. Jesus found himself equally transfixed by her presentation.
“I want to take a moment to make clear the ground rules for this trial. To convict my client, the state must convince each of you beyond a reasonable doubt that Mr. Castillo did, in fact, murder Mr.
White on the seventeenth of November, 1969. There is no shortage of reasonable doubt. I’ll show you documents and records that paint a much broader picture, a picture that makes a lot more sense than a twenty-one year old writer killing an innocent man. Leroy, as it turns out, wasn’t so innocent after all.
He was involved deeply in organized crime in New York and across the country, and I can prove it,” She took another moment for her words to sink in. The court room was silent. Somewhere, someone stifled a cough.
“Jesus is an orphan and he’s come here to escape the prospect of a life of poverty in Mexico. Isn’t that all of our histories, in some way? Aren’t we all immigrants, come here to build a better life? He has no criminal record, but because of his close proximity to the crime, he was chosen as a patsy,” Jesus looked at the jurors. Each of their gazes was locked on her.
“I am here to uncover conspiracy. To show that Mr. White as well as another key player were closely connected to the Italian mafia here in New York. The state has one thing right: This was an execution style organized crime killing, but it wasn’t my client who did it. He doesn’t have the experience or the background to execute a killing like that. He simply does not fit the profile of a hitman.
Look at him,” Jesus felt embarrassed as the jury’s eyes shifted towards him, but what she said rang true.
He certainly didn’t feel like a hitman. She quickly recaptured their attention and pulled it back to the center stage.
“Think about the humanity of the situation. The state wants to convict a young, innocent man to endure a life of hard prison time, while the true killer walks free. I implore you to not let that happen.”
The first witness the state called to the stand was John Letters. Jesus watched him closely, waiting for him to make eye contact, but John avoided his gaze as he nonchalantly took the stand. The state’s line of questioning began by establishing his role at The Rooster as general manager and the general ongoings of a Monday afternoon in his line of work. John was the only one at the bar at the time Leroy was murdered, or so he claimed. He described hearing a report of a firearm directly outside of the building, rushing out to find Leroy’s body, and then responding by calling the police.
John’s story was simple and solid. Dupree attempted to pick it apart during cross examination, asking several leading questions that resulted in the state objecting, but ultimately accomplishing little in the way of discrediting his testimony. They would save the big guns for later.
Jesus quietly sweated through the examination. John seemed to taunt him with his ostentatious lack of acknowledgement.
You did this to me, you bastard.
Jesus’ anger arose a focused vindication in his spirit. The Other would not break him. Not here and now, and not ever. The trial was as much an internal battle as it was external.
The next three witnesses were simple matters of procedure. Matthew Lee was the responding officer. He was working his beat, only a couple blocks away when Leroy was murdered. Lee described blocking off the area to preserve the crime scene and calling in the forensic team. His testimony was direct and objective, leaving little room for cross examination.
Detective Gordon Meyers was next on the stand. After establishing his credentials, he said that Leroy was taken by surprise and, due to the angle of the wound, shot from the top of the stairs that led to The Rooster’s entrance. When the state asked if this type of killing was indicative of the execution style of killing, Dupree objected, and Bolton sustained the objection, but Gordon still offered his opinion in later questioning that the matter was likely planned.
Dupree aggressively grilled Gordon in cross examination, picking apart every aspect of his testimony and essentially planting the idea that Meyers had failed to properly investigate each aspect of the scene, and was drawing false conclusions. He, for example, had not taken photographs of the footprints left behind in the snow, minimalizing the fact that the fresh snowfall would obscure usable details. She was obviously critical of his conclusion that the killing had been planned out, questioning the meager evidence supporting the claim.
The next witness, Harry Salarum, Jesus recognized from the breach team that entered his apartment. He was the officer that had pinned him up against the wall and questioned him. Reid produced a photograph of his gun, a .357 magnum, which Salarum identified as the weapon that had been recovered from Jesus’ apartment.
The kicker came when Terry Anderson, who after a brief introductory line of question that identified him as one of the chief resident ballistic expert in the NYPD, identified the make and model of Jesus’ gun as the same that had fired the round that took Leroy’s life. It was the solid, irrevocable evidence upon which that state’s case hinged. Dupree, however, did manage to score one key point.
Anderson had said that the murder weapon was the same make and model as Jesus’, but Dupree made the distinction that it wasn’t necessarily the same weapon. The chances of it not being the murder weapon were slim, but Dupree had opened that door.
Reid kept the momentum of his case going by calling Chris Waters to the stand. Waters was dressed in his usual flamboyant manner, with a blue suede pinstripe vest over a finely fitted oxford. His hair was perfect, and arched over his head giving himself and extra inch or two of height. Jesus imagined him as a wild peacock, waddling over to the stand in order to make his customary display.
“Can you please identify yourself to the court?” Reid said.
“My name is Christopher Gainly Waters,” He announced, notes of pride clearly ringing through his voice, causing Jesus to despise him just a little bit more.
“And where do you work?”
“At The Ridgeland Post for the past sixteen years.”
“And in what capacity do you work there?” Reid asked.
“I’m the co-owner and operator of The Post. I’ve been with the company since its conception.”
“Will you please describe to the court your relationship with the suspect, Mr. Castillo?”
“Certainly,” Waters said, “Castillo worked for me for approximately four months at The Post, writing one of our smaller columns.”
He really is full of it.
”And how would you describe Mr. Castillo’s performance and disposition at work?” Reid asked.
Waters went on to give an exaggerated, demeaning character attack against Jesus, describing him as, “Lazy, confrontational, and often problematic,” He went on to say that Jesus’ mental illness and drug use became increasingly apparent throughout his employment and was the reason for his termination. He had obviously been coached.
When Reid was finished milking Waters for all he was worth, Dupree launched her counterattack.
Her early line of questioning allowed Chris to talk about his experience and responsibilities at The Post, as well as his previous work experience and qualifications. She allowed him to go on talking about himself for so long that the state objected on the grounds of irrelevancy.
She’s buttering him up, getting him to drop his defenses.
“What is your relationship with Dana White, the other co-owner of The Ridgeland Post?” It was a dirty trick. Dupree was trying to have Waters admit his homosexuality dead out in front of the jury. It was a horrible, unfair tactic, but no doubt an effective way to discredit him and his testimony.
“Please answer the question, Mr. Waters,” The judge said after a long silence. Waters was obviously flustered, trying to think his way out of such a direct query. He wasn’t used to being called out in that regard. He was out of his element, a fish thrown onto dry land.
“I hardly think that’s appropriate,” He floundered.
“And why is that?” Dupree asked. The question answered itself. Waters’ shock and dismay was self-apparent, “The defense dismisses the question,” She said, saving him the embarrassment, but the damage had already been done. Jesus could feel the skepticism of the jurors. They got it.
Dupree went on to dissect Water’s testimony, giving him little chance to add more, aiming her questions at stifling and trivializing the man’s statements. It worked, and Jesus could see Waters becoming increasingly frustrated as the cross examination went increasingly off the rails. By the time he left the stand, Waters’ face was beet red.
Next, the defense called their witnesses. Jesus knew that Dupree had a sizeable list to pull from, some subpoenaed against their will, and some present of their own accord. She started with a small fish to build her momentum, Luke Lucardo.
Lucardo had obviously been subpoenaed to be present. He conducted himself with professionalism, but behind that mask of poise, he wore veiled contempt that Jesus could easily recognize. Luke was wary to draw any unnecessary connection between himself and Leroy, stating that he didn’t know the man, but admitting that Jesus did work for him for a brief stint at his restaurant two summers prior. He declined giving any detailed report of Jesus’ performance at work, even during cross examination, stating that he left most of the operational management up to his general manager, Harold Passini, a man who Jesus, in reality, had never met.
The testimony left Jesus as well as the rest of the court with a feeling of quiet, uneasy confusion.
Dupree had accomplished little. If that was the best she had to offer, the defense was doomed from the start, but it wasn’t. She had simply wanted to clear the air after the state’s case setting up her own momentum slowly and with deliberation. The next witness was the private investigator that Winston had paid to look into Paul Halman, Tony Biggerstaff. As the name implied, Tony was a huge man, but surprisingly agile for his size. Even more surprisingly, he spoke in a squeaky, high pitched voice. Despite the state’s numerous objections, Bolton allowed Biggerstaff to present several financial documents. The documents, as well as a three year old charge for money laundering that had been dropped on the grounds of insufficient evidence, painted a clear picture that Paul was involved in some sort of unscrupulous behavior, and that John was, by proxy, involved as well. Tony was an expert witness, the kind that defense attorneys hire specifically to testify. It was obviously not his first time on the stand, and he gave up very little ground to Reid during his aggressive cross-examination.
The next two witnesses were aimed at rebuilding the image of Jesus’ character in the eyes of the jurors. O’Neil didn’t believe that Jesus had committed Leroy’s murder, otherwise he would have not come to testify voluntarily. O’Neil was a reputable real estate broker, and his words carried weight when he described Jesus as a “perfect tenant.” He said that Jesus was, shy, somewhat quiet, introverted, and always paid rent on time.
Richard Baxter, the journalist who filled Jesus’ position at The Post, risked his own job to defend Jesus’ character. He directly contradicted Waters by describing Jesus as a consistently diligent worker and a talented writer. Baxter said that he had never seen any signs of Jesus’ apparent mental illness or supposed drug use, and even went as far as to say that Waters’ testimony was unfounded and obviously biased. He would certainly lose his job over this, but his honesty and impact on the case would help him find work elsewhere. As he left the stand, he gave Jesus the smallest and most undetectable of gestures, a curt nod of the head, as if to say, “I’m sorry for taking your job. This is my way of making it up to you.”
So far, the defense’s case was all fluff, with no crunch, but that was about to change. Dupree was about to change everything by pulling out her trump card.
“The defense calls Justin Earnest to the stand,” She said. Clean shaven and seemingly three years younger that the last time Jesus had seen him smoking a cigarette on Layla’s porch, strode to the stand Justin Jack.