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Authors: Robert L. Fish

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“The victim ended up in Wickersham Hospital suffering severe gunshot wounds of the face and head. The People will call the Assistant Medical Examiner of New York County who will describe to you in detail the cause of death of the victim in this case, that cause being the gunshot wounds perpetrated by the defendant on the twenty-fifth of July in the year 1964.

“The prosecution would like to point out to the jury at this time—although the judge will undoubtedly do so in his charge to the jury—that the fact that eight years passed between the assault and the death of the victim does not in any way affect the charge of murder. There is no statute of limitations on murder, and had Raymond Neeley died as a result of
that gunshot wound
twenty, thirty, or even forty years later, the charge would remain the same.

“Ladies and gentlemen, after you hear all the evidence in this case, you can only come to one conclusion: that the prosecution has proven beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant committed premeditated murder in cold blood, and accordingly the prosecution will ask you to render the only possible verdict under the law: ‘Guilty of murder in the first degree.'

“Thank you very much.”

Varick walked over and sat down. The silence that had attended his statement was broken by the rustle of bodies assuming more comfortable positions in their chairs. Judge Waxler turned toward the defense table.

“Mr. Ross, would you care to make an opening statement?”

Ross came to his feet and nodded.

“A very short one, Your Honor. May it please Your Honor, Mr. Foreman, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: You have just heard a very dramatic presentation of what the prosecution claims happened on a certain night eight years ago. However, the prosecutor wasn't there at the time, any more than I was. He was not a witness.”

A brief titter swept the room, instantly stilled. Ross did not smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the only evidence the jury is permitted to believe is the proven and believable evidence that comes from the witness stand, and that evidence, I maintain, will demonstrate a completely different set of circumstances from that which the prosecution has so imaginatively described.

“The evidence in this case will show as follows: that the accused, Billy Dupaul, was the victim of a swindle scheme, and that in the course of the perpetration of this swindle, one of the swindlers suffered an accidental wound and eventually died from it.

“The defense is prepared to prove that Billy Dupaul was handed a gun and told to shoot to defend his own life as well as that of a companion, and under the extremely extenuating circumstances that prevailed, did, indeed, pull the trigger. We do not deny that Billy was guilty of folly, of extremely poor judgment in going into a bar, getting drunk, and allowing himself to be picked up by a woman in this state, nor do we deny it was extremely naive of Billy not to have realized he was the intended victim of a swindle, but if poor judgment or naïveté were a crime, there would be few of us free to be here and involve ourselves in this trial today. It must also be remembered, ladies and gentlemen, that at the time of these events, Billy Dupaul was barely nineteen years of age, with little experience of life, and no experience of liquor at all.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.”

Ross sat down and the shifting of bodies repeated itself. In the press box reporters exchanged glances; the charge of swindle was a new aspect. They settled down to what they were sure would be an interesting trial, as all those of Ross were. At the prosecution table Gorman was looking confident, not put off at all by the opening statement of the defense; he expected almost anything from Ross, and especially when he knew Ross was in a bind, as he was in this case. Paul Varick shuffled his notes, checked them one last time, and rose.

“For our first witness, we call Joseph Paretta.”

Paretta, a dapper little man, took the stand and was sworn in. From his cool and collected manner it was evident that he was not on the witness stand for the first time. Varick moved forward.

“What is your name?”

“Joseph Paretta.”

“What is your business or occupation?”

“I'm a stenotypist. A court reporter.”

“By whom are you employed?”

“I'm employed by the New York Supreme Court.”

“Were you employed by the New York Supreme Court as a court reporter on November fourteenth to November twenty-seventh of the year 1964?”

“I was.”

“Did you attend and take the minutes of the proceedings of the trial of the People of the State of New York against William Dupaul, Indictment Number 1263 of the year 1964?”

“I did.”

“I show you this transcript of the testimony of that trial. Is this a true and accurate transcript of that testimony, recorded by you in stenotype and later transcribed?”

The dapper man took the file handed him, checked his initials on the corner of each sheet while the courtroom waited, and then started to hand it back.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“Mr. Paretta, please keep the transcript. Now, will you read the testimony of Raymond Neeley, beginning at the top of page 63 of that transcript?”

Paretta pulled the thick sheaf of papers back into his lap, riffled through the pages to the one requested, cleared his throat and began to read.

Q
:

Where did you first meet the defendant?

A
:

I was on my way home from a movie and I was passing this bar when the door opened and this man
—
the defendant
—
staggered out and grabbed my arm. He started to fall but I managed to help him keep his balance, but instead of thanking me, he started to swear. He said, “What a goddam crummy town, a guy can't even get a lousy goddam drink—”

Paretta's voice droned on, emotionless, avoiding with professional skill any dramatizing or editorializing through intonation. Billy Dupaul, his face a mask, slouched in his chair and stared at the floor. Steve Sadler was listening interestedly, as if he had not read the same testimony time after time. Ross watched the jury quite casually. The twelve people in the box seemed enthralled by the testimony.

The reading continued page after page, the only sounds in the silent courtroom other than Paretta's even voice an occasional cough and the crackle of paper as Paretta turned the pages. The testimony followed Varick's opening statement almost word for word. Paretta turned the final page of Neeley's testimony. He read:

Q
:

What did he say then?

A
:

He said, “I'll find it easier with you out of the way.” And then he shot me, and I woke up in the hospital.

Paretta stopped, looking at Varick. “Do you want me to read more?”

“That's enough, thank you,” Varick said. He turned toward the defense table. “Cross-examination.”

“Thank you,” Ross said, and came to his feet. He walked over and stationed himself before the court reporter.

“Mr. Paretta, while you are still on the stand, will you please turn to page 116 of the transcript? Thank you. Now, would you please start reading beginning on line five?”

Paretta dutifully found the place, cleared his throat, and began.

Q
:

What happened then?

A
:

I remember feeling dizzy and sick to my stomach and mad at myself because this dame had taken her own clothes off, too, and she was really built, and she was rubbing up against me and her hands were all over and I knew damn well I couldn't do a damn thing all drunk and dizzy like that, and then all of a sudden she makes this funny noise
—

Q
:

What do you mean by “funny” noise?

A
:

I mean before she was all sexy, but now she sounded sort of scared, and she pulls me around and there's this guy in the doorway and he's got this suitcase in his hand and he stares at us on the bed and of course it's too late to try and duck under the covers, and then he starts to swear and he drops the suitcase and runs over to the dresser like a crazy man and starts digging in one of the drawers, cussing all the time, not loud, but crazy like
—

Q
:

What were you doing during this time?

A
:

I was froze, that's all
—
froze, wishing I was a jillion miles away, wondering if it was real or was I dreaming it.

Q
:

And then what happened?

A
:

Then I remember he turns around from the dresser and he's got this gun in his hand and it's a big bastard, looks like it's all barrel from where I sit, like looking down a tunnel, and then this dame is shoving something in my hand I can tell is a gun, but what do I care? It's protection, that's all I care about, and this guy starts to bring his gun up
—
and I shot first, that's all. It was self-defense. He was going to kill us both, only I shot first.

Q
:

In self-defense …?

A
:

Yes, sir, What else? I never saw the man before in my life. What reason would I have to shoot a stranger?

Q
:

And then what happened?

A
:

The man fell down and he was bleeding real bad from the mouth and that's when I really started to feel sick to my stomach and I got off the bed and tried to find the bathroom but I just about made it to the kitchen, because I remembering leaning on the stove and heaving into the sink and I didn't think I was ever going to stop but at least getting that booze out of me sobered me up a bit. And after that I went back into the bedroom and the man was still lying on the floor bleeding. I sure didn't want to go back in there, but my clothes were in there.

Q
:

When you went back into the bedroom, did you notice if the man was still holding his gun? You recall the prosecution made quite a point of the gun not being there when the police arrived.

A
:

I didn't even look. Maybe the woman
—
Grace
—
took it.

Q
:

The woman, then, was also gone?

A
:

Long gone, but I got nothing against her getting out of there; it was smart. I guess while I was throwing up she just pulled on her dress and beat it.

Q
:

What did you do then?

A
:

I started to get out of there in a hurry. I didn't even finish dressing. I grabbed my shoes and jacket and tie and started out, but I guess I took so long getting sick or pulling on my shirt and pants or something that when I was coming into the lobby
—
I
ran down the stairs instead of taking the elevator
—
the cops were coming in the front door. I guess maybe one of the neighbors called in on account of the shot. It was a hot night and the windows were open. I guess that's how they heard.

Paretta paused, looking up. Ross nodded.

“That's enough, thank you.” He turned. “I'm finished with the witness.”

“But I'm not.” Varick had come to his feet. He approached the witness stand. “Mr. Paretta, in that trial, the transcript of which you have in your hand and from which you have been reading, after the jury heard all the evidence, what verdict did they bring in?”

“Objection,” Ross said smoothly. “If the prosecution remembers the motions and proceedings before trial, the judgment in that trial was set aside. Legally, it does not exist.”

“Wait a second,” Gorman began, starting to rise. One glare from Judge Waxler and he subsided.

“Objection sustained.”

Varick turned back to the witness.

“Mr. Paretta, tell me: In all the testimony of that transcript, either of the defense or of the prosecution, is the word ‘swindle' mentioned once?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you recall any synonym for the word ‘swindle,' or any phrase that could be considered to have the same meaning as the word ‘swindle' appearing anywhere in the testimony?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you. That's all. You're excused.” Mr. Paretta stepped down as Varick turned. “My next witness is Dr. Edward Hamilton of the Medical Examiner's office.”

He walked back to the prosecution table and studied a sheet of paper while the doctor mounted the stand and was sworn in. Varick moved to the witness stand, paused, and then swung to face Ross.

“The prosecution is prepared to qualify my witness as an expert if the defense insists, but to save time would my learned adversary concede the qualifications of Dr. Hamilton?”

Ross said calmly, “The defense will concede that Dr. Hamilton is an extremely qualified forensic pathologist.”


Thank
you,” Varick said with a touch of sarcasm and turned to face the witness as a ripple of smiles in the courtroom disappeared beneath Judge Waxler's look. “Dr. Hamilton, on the thirtieth day of September in this year, did you examine the body of a deceased male, Raymond Neeley?”

“I did.”

“Where did this examination take place?”

“At the New York Medical Examiner's office, at the Bellevue Hospital morgue.”

“Before you go into the details of that examination, Doctor, could you tell us how the body came to be delivered to the Bellevue Hospital morgue? And how identification was made?”

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