False Accusations (38 page)

When someone needs a public defender, as is stated in Miranda, one is assigned. From the accused’s perspective, the luck of the draw is worse than a crapshoot—for in a crapshoot, the only thing on the line is money. With respect to the public defender’s office, the luck of the draw could be a matter of life and death, depending upon who is assigned to your case.

Brittany Harding drew Wendell Warwick for her defense. Warwick, a fifteen-year veteran of the public defender’s office, was generally considered to fit into the mediocre category. He had lost more than his share of cases, but occasionally he would surprise everyone with a sagacious defense. Problem was, such triumphs and flashes of brilliance were few and far between. It was theorized in the office that personal problems suctioned away his ability to devote the time and focus necessary to win important cases consistently.

Harding’s case began on an inauspicious note. In keeping with accepted procedure, Warwick made a pretrial motion to challenge Denton’s introduction of DNA evidence. However, two days before the Kelly-Frye hearing—a court proceeding to determine whether evidence had scientific validity and reliability—his expert canceled due to illness, and Warwick did a one-eighty, changing his mind on the hearing and deciding to proceed without one. He had his reasons, he explained, and apologized to the court for wasting its time.

The following day, Warwick was due to appear before the judge in chambers, with Denton present, to contest evidence the DA wanted to bring against his client. Denton had requested that this pretrial motion be held in chambers, out of earshot of the press, so as to preserve both Madison’s reputation and Harding’s privacy. He explained that it would be undesirable to go public with unsubstantiated rape complaints, stories of extortion and clandestine videos if there was a chance the judge could deem it all to be inadmissible.

Warwick agreed, and shortly before noon they found themselves sitting in Calvino’s plush, wood-lined office facing the crotchety man who was staring down at his plate of food.

“Damned restaurant botched my grilled halibut. Dried it to a crisp. But I didn’t have time for them to redo the order because I had to get back here for this meeting.”

Both Warwick and Denton listened intently, as if they were genuinely concerned about the judge’s lunch and his misfortune. In fact, they could not care less. Denton laughed inside, realizing that it was probably the last thing he and Warwick would agree on for the rest of the trial.

They both ceremoniously apologized to the judge for his spoiled lunch and moved on to the purpose of the hearing.

Calvino nodded to the court reporter to begin her stenography. “So I presume that you have a problem with the evidence that Mr. Denton intends to bring,” he said to Warwick.

“Yes, Your Honor. The defense wishes to exclude from trial any information pertaining to accusations of extortion relative to either Phillip Madison or Mark Stanton.”

“Your Honor,” Denton said, “this evidence, and the witnesses who will testify as to the two prior episodes of extortion, are paramount for establishing motive. Harding extorted money from her prior employer with false accusations of sexual harassment—and admitted as much on video. She then tried this same tactic on Dr. Madison two years later—but his attorney didn’t let her get away with it—”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Denton, I’m familiar with the story,” Calvino said. “Get to the point. Quickly.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Denton said, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. “There is a distinct pattern of behavior beginning with a similar episode of extortion two years ago and continuing to the present. When her attempt at extorting Dr. Madison failed, she became enraged and formulated a plan by which she could effect her revenge. She made no attempt at disguising her intentions. She shouted in a public place that she would get even and make him pay. This most definitely goes to motive, and is completely proper in its logical progression from past to present.”

As Calvino opened his mouth to speak, Warwick interrupted. “Your Honor, if I may.”

Calvino nodded.

“Miss Harding’s former employer and her behavior during that supposed videotaped incident have nothing do with her feelings or motives relative to Phillip Madison. Further, the production of the evidence, particularly the video recording of Miss Harding and Mr. Stanton, is inflammatory and prejudicial, collateral, and definitely inadmissible. Moreover, we have no way of verifying the tape’s authenticity or even when it was filmed.”

“We have Mr. Stanton himself who will testify that the video is authentic and he will be able to verify exactly when it was made,” Denton said. “And we can subpoena the cameraman—the private investigator who Mr. Stanton’s attorney hired to film the event. We can subpoena Stanton’s attorney, for that matter, to establish place and time, and obtain a copy of the check written by the attorney to the investigator, not to mention a digital—”

Calvino held up a hand for Denton to stop. “I get the point, counselor.”

Warwick leaned forward. “This doesn’t even address the issues of my client being incapable of committing this crime. The DA is, in effect, saying that Miss Harding had access to Madison’s vehicle—which Madison will undoubtedly tell you she didn’t—so she had to have broken into his garage, stolen his Mercedes, committed the act, planted the beer cans in his car to frame Madison, and then returned his car to the garage. This isn’t reasonable. In, fact, it’s ridiculous.”

“Your Honor,” Denton said, “we’re looking at a pattern of behavior here. We’re not looking at a model citizen. Her crimes and accusations became increasingly more complex until the point where her emotions drove her to plan and telegraph what she was going to do. It’s all part of a linear continuum, Your Honor.”

“A linear continuum,” Calvino repeated.

“Ipso facto,” Denton said.

Warwick shook his head. “I disagree. It involves completely unrelated events and information. In fact, it’s collateral—we’d have to litigate the other matters as well, just to prove the truth or falsity of the rape allegations. Witnesses will have to be brought in. It’ll be, in effect, a mini-rape trial—and, therefore, the jury is going to be involved in making collateral decisions, when the issue is simply a matter of whether or not she was guilty of using Madison’s car to run down and kill two people. Therefore, it’s completely inappropriate to allow this evidence in, according to sections 1101 and 352 of the California Evidence Code.”

Calvino extended an open hand. “Let me see this video Mr. Stanton made.”

Denton fished through his attaché case and produced the DVD. The judge inserted it into his PC and watched it. Two minutes later, as it ended, Calvino sighed.

“Counselors, I’ve heard and seen enough. What I’m going to say is going to make one of you pleased and the other pissed as hell. Truth be told, I don’t really care one way or the other,” he said, looking both of them in the eye. He turned to the stenographer and nodded for her to resume her transcript. “I will say this: you both make compelling arguments, and another judge may see this in a different light. Keep that in mind, Mr. Warwick, for appeal. But I feel that there’s sufficient relationship between the various incidents to link them together toward establishing motive.”

Calvino looked over at Warwick. “Had your client not told everyone and their uncle in that market what she was going to do, I might be ruling differently. However, she said what she said because of the extortion-rape issue, and this was obviously not the first time that she’s engaged in this type of behavior. It’s her MO, counselor, and I believe there’s enough foundation to go forward. I am not going to exclude this evidence.”

Denton breathed a sigh of relief as the court reporter slapped away at her steno keys; Warwick did his best to hide his frustration, but his downcast expression spoke volumes.

Additional pretrial motions were made, fought over, and either granted or rejected. Denton and Warwick sparred repeatedly, with Calvino serving as arbiter in his reputedly restive manner. With the trial scheduled to be followed heavily by the media, both sides were gearing up for the onslaught of public interest usually accompanied by the magnifying glass that Warwick despised, and under which Denton thrived.

Madison’s preparation with Denton lasted four hours, and delved into private corners of his life that even he did not realize he had. The prosecutor explained that if he had this information, then Warwick might have it as well. He had to be ready for just about anything, Denton cautioned.

Later that evening, Madison reiterated his complaint to Hellman that attorneys left a bad taste in his mouth, present company excluded.

Hellman smiled. “You haven’t seen me from the other side’s perspective. I’m no better than any of them.”

CHANDLER SAT reclining on the playroom lounger, Coke in hand, watching the New York Mets lose to the Florida Marlins in the ninth inning. “Unbelievable,” he said as he took his last swig from the can. He slammed his fist down as the replay showed the thundering four-hundred-fifty-foot home run land on the Shea Bridge well beyond the outfield wall. He squeezed his fist hard, crushing the aluminum can. At one of the folds, there was a sharp point that dug into his pinky. He pulled the crumpled container off his hand, examining the punctured flesh where the metal had stuck him.

As Gary Cohen, the Mets’ sportscaster, announced that the Marlins had pulled out a miraculous come-from-behind victory, Chandler noticed something where the aluminum had creased. He stared at the can for a long moment, then turned it over and around, several times.

Denise walked into the room with Noah. “They lost?” she asked, staring at the score. “They were ahead ten minutes ago.”

Chandler was not listening; he was on the phone.

Denise popped a DVD into the player for Noah, then looked at the notes Chandler was scribbling on his pad as he spoke.

He thanked the person on the other end of the phone, and hung up.

“What are you doing?”

Chandler underlined something on the page. “Following up on something.”

Denise looked at him. “Work? It’s Sunday night. Can’t it wait until morning?”

“This isn’t work. Something on Phil’s case.”

“What is it?”

Chandler hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

THE JURY SELECTION process took three days. Attempting to empanel an impartial group of twelve people who had not seen or read any of the news reports proved more difficult than originally thought. Fortunately, however, much of the pretrial publicity centered around Phillip Madison as a suspect—so, if anything, the bias against Madison was the sticky point for Denton, since the doctor was his prime witness.

Denton’s questions during
voir dire
, the preliminary examination used by the court and attorneys to select a suitable panel of jurors, were therefore directed toward identifying bias against Madison. As Denton saw it, the worst scenario would be ending up with jurors who still harbored ill feelings toward him, because they would then be less inclined to believe him when he was called as a witness.

The jury that both attorneys ultimately agreed on consisted of seven women and five men. Along ethnic lines, there was one Asian, five African-Americans, one Hispanic, and five Caucasians. Denton liked the mix, while Warwick accepted it with trepidation; he was concerned about the prominence of both the female and African-American representation on the jury, being that the victims were both black, with one being a single mother. Trying to avoid an environment of excessive pity for the victims, he also wanted to buffer his client from misdirected disgust leveled by the jury against the suspect who was accused of the crime. The jury should not convict simply because his client was the one chosen and charged by the prosecutor—and because
someone
had to pay for the heinous crime that was going to be presented to them.

The jury empaneled and pretrial motions disposed of, Judge Calvino gestured toward Denton; Denton stood and buttoned his suit coat. He had delivered hundreds of opening statements over the years, and was adept at driving home his point by commanding the jury’s undivided attention as he told them with undaunted confidence he was going to prove beyond a reasonable doubt the suspect before them was guilty. Although Madison’s removal as the accused dulled the high-profile nature of the case, it was still rife with controversy; as a result, members of the press filled the courtroom. Denton knew this, and if butterflies could truly be present in one’s stomach, he would have a flock inside his own at the moment.

“That woman—Brittany Harding,” Denton shouted, pointing his finger at her, “is accused of murdering two people. Two innocent people who were unfortunate enough to become unwitting pawns in a plan of cold, calculated revenge. A plan of revenge that was carried out by Brittany Harding against a prominent surgeon, a pillar of the community.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’m Timothy Denton, the prosecutor, and I represent the People of the State of California.” Denton strode toward the jury box, his hair freshly trimmed and his face glowing from a recent session at the local tanning salon. His neatly primped appearance, which included a new pinstriped navy blue suit, signaled the importance of this trial to both him and the state. He had begun with intensity chiseled into his brow, but now, as he approached the jurors, his features were softer, his demeanor inviting. They seemed to receive him well, watching him closely as he kept his hands clasped in front of him and focused all of their attention on the content of his opening argument.

He threw a glance at the defendant, then looked back at the jurors. “Brittany Harding,” Denton said, again pointing a short and stubby finger at Harding, who looked away, “is accused of murdering two people. But the story does not begin there. Let’s go back to late August of last year. Miss Harding was a recently hired assistant for a nonprofit organization whose president was Dr. Phillip Madison, a prominent surgeon in the community.

“When the organization’s administrative officer became ill, Miss Harding temporarily took over those duties. Witnesses tell us—as they’ll tell you during this trial—that Miss Harding had difficulty handling these activities. She accused one parent of being responsible for her child’s mental retardation, when in fact it was a genetic defect that was the causative agent. Others reported she was ‘condescending,’ and ‘unwilling to help’ them,” Denton said, reading the witness statements from a legal pad. “But there’s no crime in being ignorant or rude, is there?”