4th of July (19 page)

YUKI, LOOKING CALM, COLLECTED, and sensational in a gray suit and pearls, kicked off our case by putting veteran dispatcher Carla Reyes on the stand. Yuki asked Carla some general questions about her duties and what her shift on May 10 had been like.

Then she played the tape of my radio transmissions that awful night: four and a half long minutes of my voice calling in our locations as well as radio calls from the patrol cars.

The clipped and broken transmissions surrounded by sparking static pumped adrenaline into my bloodstream and sent my mind careening around the corners of that dark night in the past, chasing the unknown suspects in a black Mercedes.

Jacobi’s voice requesting paramedical help for the passengers of the wrecked car was interrupted by the hard pops of gunfire that cut him off midsentence.

I actually started in my seat at the sounds of the gunshots. My hands began to sweat, and I felt myself tremble.

A moment later, I heard my own fading voice request ambulances. “Two officers down. Two civilians down.”

And the worried voice of Carla Reyes. “Lieutenant, are you okay? Lindsay. Answer me.”

“I really thought I’d lost her,” Carla told Yuki from the witness stand. “Lindsay’s one of our best.”

After Mason’s tepid cross, Yuki put on our next witness, Mike Hart from Ballistics, who confirmed that the slugs removed from my body were a match to Sara’s gun and that the slugs taken from Jacobi had been fired by the gun found beside Sam Cabot.

Broyles had no questions for Mike, so Yuki called Jacobi to the stand.

Tears brimmed in my eyes as my old friend and partner walked to the front of the room. Jacobi’s walk was heavy even though he’d lost a lot of weight. He struggled as he heaved himself up to the witness stand.

Yuki gave him time to pour himself a full glass of water. Then she asked him some routine questions about how long he’d been with the force, how long with Homicide.

Then, “Inspector Jacobi, how long have you known Lieutenant Boxer?”

“About seven years.”

“Have you had an occasion to work with her before the night in question?”

“Yep. We were partners for three years.”

“Have you been in other situations with her where she had to use her gun?”

“Yes. A coupla times.”

“And how would you say she reacts under pressure?”

“She’s great under pressure. And you know, every time you go out on the street you’re under pressure, because nothing suddenly turns into something without any warning at all.”

“Inspector, when you hooked up with Lieutenant Boxer on the night of May tenth, did you smell alcohol on her breath?”

“No.”

“Did you know that she had been drinking?”

“Yes. Because she mentioned it to me.”

“Well, why did she mention it to you?”

“Because she wanted me to know, so that I could kick her out of the car if I wanted to.”

“In your opinion, having worked with her for so many years, did she have all her faculties?”

“Of course. She was sharp, just like she always is.”

“If she was in any way impaired would you have gone on this assignment with her?”

“Absolutely not.”

Yuki took Warren through the night of the tenth, from the moment he picked me up at Susie’s to the last thing he remembered.

“I was glad we got those kids out of that car. I was worried that the gas tank was leaking and the whole thing could’ve gone kaboom. I was on with our dispatcher, Carla Reyes over there, telling her that Sam Cabot had a broken nose from the air bag blowing up in his face and that those kids coulda had internal injuries. Little did I know.”

“I beg your pardon, Inspector?”

“Little did I know that while I was calling for paramedics, that little prick was going to shoot me.”

Mason Broyles blew his cork, of course, and the judge admonished Jacobi. I was ecstatic that Jacobi had had the balls to call Sam Cabot a prick. When order was restored, Yuki had a last question for my old partner.

“Inspector, are you familiar with Lieutenant Boxer’s reputation in the police community, and if so, what is that reputation?”

“In a word? She’s a damned good cop.”

BROYLES GOT NOTHING MUCH out of Jacobi on cross. He answered yes and no and refused to rise to the bait when Broyles insinuated that he’d been lazy in performing his duty according to SFPD policies and procedures.

“I did the best I could do for both those kids and I’m thankful that your client wasn’t a better shot,” Jacobi said. “Otherwise I’d be dead, instead of talking to you here.”

When court adjourned for a lunch break, I found a quiet spot in a corner on the third floor between a Coke machine and a wall, and talked to Joe, our virtual hug spanning three time zones. He apologized at least a half dozen times for being in the middle of a huge investigation involving threats to airports from Boston to Miami, which was why he couldn’t be with me in San Francisco.

I had a bite of a dry ham sandwich and a sip of coffee from a machine before taking my seat beside Yuki as court was called back into session.

Then the moment I’d been dreading arrived. Yuki called me to the witness stand. When I was seated in the witness box, she stood in front of me so that my view of the Cabot family was blocked, and she gave me a sunny smile.

“Lieutenant Boxer, do you believe in following police procedures?”

“I do.”

“Were you drunk on the night in question?”

“No. I was having dinner with friends. I had a couple of drinks before I got the call from Jacobi.”

“You were off duty?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not against any rules to drink off duty, is it?”

“No.”

“When you got into the car with Inspector Jacobi, you officially went back on duty.”

“Yes. Still, I was sure that I had all my faculties. I stand by that now.”

“Would you say you’re a ‘by-the-book’ kind of cop?”

“Yes, but the book doesn’t cover all circumstances. Sometimes you have to work with the situation at hand and use your best judgment.”

At Yuki’s prompting, I told the story up to the point where Jacobi and I wrenched open the car door and freed the Cabot kids from the wreck.

“I made a mistake because those kids looked such a mess. I felt sorry for them.”

“Why did you feel sorry for them?”

“They were both crying. And Sam in particular was bleeding, throwing up, and pleading with me.”

“Could you explain?”

“He said, ‘Please don’t tell my father. He’ll kill me.’”

“So what did you do?”

“As Inspector Jacobi said, we had to get them out of the car. There was a danger of the gas tank exploding. I put my gun away so that I could get a grip on the car door, and together Inspector Jacobi and I got them out.”

“Go on, Lieutenant.”

“After they were out of the car, I should have cuffed Sara. Instead, I treated her as a victim of a bad traffic accident. When I asked to see her driver’s license, she pulled a gun out of her jacket and shot me in the shoulder, then in the thigh. I went down.”

“Where was Inspector Jacobi when Sara shot you?”

“Inspector Jacobi was calling an ambulance.”

“Where was his gun?”

“It was holstered.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“Yes. He was on the phone. His gun was holstered. I yelled ‘Gun’ just before Sara shot me. I saw Jacobi turn and see me fall. Just then, Sam Cabot fired on him—hitting him twice.”

“You’re sure you saw all this, Lieutenant? You didn’t lose consciousness?”

“No. I was conscious throughout.”

“Did Inspector Jacobi lose consciousness?”

“Yes. I thought he was dead. I saw Sam Cabot kick him in the head, and he didn’t move or try to protect himself.”

“You saw Sam Cabot kick Inspector Jacobi in the head. Please continue.”

“Maybe they thought I was dead, because they seemed to have forgotten all about me.”

“Objection. The witness is speculating.”

“Sustained.”

“Just tell us what you saw and heard and did,” Yuki said. “You’re doing very well.”

I dipped my head and tried to focus.

“I heard Sara tell Sam that they should leave the scene,” I said. “I got my gun out of my holster and demanded that Sara Cabot drop her weapon. She called me a bitch, then fired several more shots at me. Then I returned fire.”

“What happened after that?”

“Sara dropped to the ground, and Sam started screaming at me that I’d shot his sister. Again, I demanded that he drop his gun, which he refused to do. I shot him also.”

“Tell me, Lieutenant, did you want to hurt those children?”

“No, of course not. I wish with all my heart that none of this had ever happened.”

“In your opinion, if Sam and Sara Cabot hadn’t been carrying guns, could this tragedy have happened?”

“Objection,” Broyles shouted. “Calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”

The judge leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling through her thick black-rimmed glasses. Then, having decided, she snapped back upright.

“Sustained.”

“Lindsay. Is it true that in your ten years in Homicide, you’ve been cited for excellent arrests on thirty-seven occasions and received fifteen unit citations and twenty meritorious-service commendations?”

“I didn’t keep count, but that sounds about right.”

“In short, Lieutenant Boxer, the San Francisco Police Department would agree with Inspector Jacobi’s description of you. You’re a ‘damned good cop.’”

“Objection. Counsel is making a speech.”

“Thanks, Lindsay. I’m done, Your Honor.”

I FORGOT ABOUT YUKI as soon as she turned away from me. I was falling backward in time, feeling the pain of that horrifying night. The whooshing sound of Sam’s breathing was like the sound of salt water washing over my open wounds, and the courtroom was a slick sea of faces, reflecting back what must have been my own pained and stricken expression.

I picked out six members of the Cabot family by their resemblance to Sara and Sam, and the fury in their eyes. And I saw cops everywhere, men and women I’d known and worked with for years. My eyes locked on Jacobi, and his eyes held mine. He gave me a thumbs-up and I wanted to smile, but Mason Broyles was coming toward me.

He wasted no time with amenities.

“Lieutenant Boxer, when you shot my client and his sister, did you shoot to kill?”

There was a loud ringing in my ears as I tried to understand his question. Had I shot to kill? Yes. But how could I say that I had meant to kill those kids?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Broyles. Could you repeat the question?”

“Let me ask it another way. If this incident happened as you say, that Sara and Sam Cabot refused to put down their guns, why didn’t you simply disable them? Shoot them in the arms or legs, for instance.”

I hesitated, trying to imagine it. Sara standing squarely facing me on the pavement. Those shots pounding into my body. Falling to the street. The shock. The pain. The shame.

“Lieutenant?”

“Mr. Broyles, I fired in self-defense.”

“Amazing that your aim was so good. Drunk as you were.”

“Objection. He’s badgering Lieutenant Boxer.”

“Sustained. Watch yourself, Mr. Broyles.”

“Yes, Judge. Lieutenant, I don’t understand. You shot two bullets into Sara’s heart—a pretty small target, wouldn’t you say? Why couldn’t you have shot her so that she’d survive? Why didn’t you shoot Sam Cabot’s gun out of his hand?”

“Your Honor! Asked and answered.”

“I withdraw the question. We understand what you did, Lieutenant.” Broyles sneered. “We understand exactly what happened.”

I HEARD YUKI SAY, “Redirect, Your Honor.”

Then she approached me, moving quickly. She waited until I was looking into her eyes.

“Lindsay, when you fired on Sam and Sara Cabot, was your life in danger?”

“Yes.”

“What’s proper police procedure for that situation? What’s ‘by the book’?”

“You shoot to center mass to alleviate the threat, and once the threat is alleviated, you cease firing. Often those center-mass shots are fatal. You can’t take any chances by shooting at extremities. You could miss. The individual might still be able to shoot, and you’ve got to make sure the shooter can’t hurt you or other people.”

“Did you have any other choice but to shoot the way you did?”

“No. None at all. Once the Cabots introduced lethal force.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Now we understand exactly what happened.”

I was weak with relief when I stepped down from the stand. As soon as I took my seat, I heard the judge dismiss the court.

“See you all tomorrow at nine,” she said.

Yuki and Mickey and several attorneys from his office formed a buffer zone around me as we left the courthouse by the back door and entered the black Lincoln Town Car that was waiting for us on Polk.

Through the car’s smoked windows, I saw the angry, chanting crowd holding posters with my picture and the slogans “Loose Cannon” and “Dirty Harriet.”

“You did great, Lindsay,” Mickey said, reaching over from the front seat and patting my arm. But his brown eyes didn’t smile, and the lower half of his face looked frozen.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I—just didn’t know what to say.”

“No harm done. We’re going to dinner now. Yuki and I have to spend some time going over her closing. You’re welcome to come with us.”

“If you don’t need me, why don’t you drop me off at Yuki’s place. Let you guys work in peace.”

I clutched Yuki’s keys in my hand and watched the city I knew so well fly by the darkened car windows. I knew that I’d blown it. A few seconds of hesitation and everyone in the room had read my mind.

The impression that jury walked away with today was that I’d shot those kids to kill.

And, of course, they were right.