Grant of Immunity (8 page)

A
fter the judge
left the bench and the jurors filed out, Fitzgerald rushed to Erin. Her look of stunned anguish broke his heart. She was the closest thing Fitz had to a daughter, and he’d been unable to protect her. He stood beside the witness box, feeling helpless, not knowing what to say or do.

Lundy approached. His face was grim. “Let’s go to my office.”

“How could the judge let him do this to me?” she asked. “You said everything would be okay. I didn’t want to come to court, didn’t want to do any of this.”

“We have to leave,” Fitzgerald said. “We can’t talk here.” He led her out of the courtroom, and they returned to Lundy’s office.

While Lundy telephoned a sandwich order, Fitzgerald sat down with Erin in the two chairs in front of the lawyer’s desk. “Don’t give up,” he said.

Erin looked down and said nothing.

Fitzgerald was still reeling from what happened to Erin. Giovanni was a ruthless bastard—a typical defense attorney. Fitz had expected as much. But Lundy had made it clear that the anti-blame law protected Erin.

Lundy hung up the phone. His eyes flashed anger, and he looked at Fitz. “You’re the investigating officer—you know we don’t run rap sheets on victims. Why didn’t you tell me about this Marina Hotel thing?”

“Because you made it clear to me that Giovanni couldn’t go into Erin’s background. That the anti-blame law protected sexual assault victims.”

“It does,” Lundy replied. “The judge is clearly wrong.”

“So what can we do about it?” Fitz demanded.

“Nothing. The jury has been exposed to the information, and even if Judge Morley admonished them to ignore it, they’ve already heard it.”

Fitz was devastated. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I just can’t go on,” Erin said. “What’s the use?”

“You’ve got to try,” Fitz said. “You’ve come this far—don’t let Babbage get away with this.”

“Fitzgerald is right,” Lundy said. “Hey, there’s highs and lows in any trial. What counts is how the jury sees things after hearing
all
the evidence.”

Erin didn’t reply, and they sat in silence for a time.

“Please, Erin,” Fitzgerald said.

“Okay,” she said, finally.

Fitzgerald exhaled. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. Waiting and worrying.

“All right,” Lundy said, smiling. “Let’s get to work. Tell me what happened that night.”

Erin took a deep breath. “It was two years ago. I’ve almost been able to put it out of my mind—until now. I was lonely and depressed, and thought a drink would cheer me up. I wanted to be around people who’d like me and make me laugh. A place where I could have fun and forget my problems. I’d been to the Marina Hotel once before, and I really liked it. It had an outside bar, a view of the ocean, and lots of people. I decided to go there.”

Fitzgerald interrupted. “It’s a popular hotel since it’s near the airport and near the ocean,” he said to Lundy. “A lot of successful businesspeople stay there. The bar does a booming business; it’s always crowded. They have a big prostitution problem—that’s why the vice cops practically live at that place. They make lots of arrests.”

Erin nodded. “I know now how stupid I was to be so trusting.”

“Go on,” Lundy said.

“I got there around eight p.m. As I said, the hotel has an outside bar by the water. I sat on an empty stool at the end of the bar. I ordered a martini, straight up, and felt a buzz immediately.”

Erin sighed. “Somebody asked if anyone was sitting next to me. I turned to look. He was tall, six-one or six-two, dark-brown hair, wearing a beige cotton T-shirt and faded jeans. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Honest face. Handsome. With a carefully trimmed beard.”

“Yeah,” Fitzgerald said. “Most people don’t expect a cop to have facial hair. Vice cops grow beards just for that reason.”

“He definitely did not look like a cop,” Erin continued. “He sat down. We talked for about an hour. He said his name was Don or John or something—I don’t remember exactly. That he was a salesman, attending a conference at the hotel, was from San Jose and knew no one in the area. We continued to talk. He had a great sense of humor, and was a good listener. And he seemed really interested in me. He took my hand and didn’t let go.”

“He had to know by then you weren’t a hooker,” Lundy commented. “No hooker would spend an hour talking to a potential john. Time is money. And no hooker would ever hold hands. I’m beginning to understand why they never filed on you. What happened next?”

“He asked me if I wanted to go to his room for a nightcap. My head was swimming, and I was attracted to him. I found myself following him to the elevator, heading for his room.

“In the room, I had another drink. He asked me if I needed any money. I said no—insulted that he’d even offered it. I got up to leave. He took my hand. He said he was on an expense account and had plenty of money. He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. ‘No, really,’ I said, ‘I wouldn’t be comfortable taking money.’ But he said it was okay and put a hundred dollar bill in my purse.

“But then I began to think that I really did need money—especially the fifty dollars for my next month’s rent, so I hesitated. Then he put his arms around me and kissed me. ‘Can we do it?’ he whispered in my ear. I nodded. ‘Yes,’ I said. Then abruptly, he pushed me away and stepped back. He flashed his badge. Somehow I was arrested for prostitution. He was really an undercover vice cop.”

“Classic entrapment,” Lundy said. “And it’s clear to me he knew you had no criminal intent. When did you find out that you weren’t going to be charged?”

“My brother called a local bondsman who bailed me out a little while later. At the jail, they gave me a piece of paper telling me to report for arraignment in the Van Nuys courthouse in two weeks. I went to the Public Defender’s Office, and they agreed to represent me. When we went to court, my lawyer told me the charges had been dropped. I was so relieved. But I didn’t know it would come back and haunt me.”

“We need that police report,” Lundy said. He looked at Fitzgerald and said to him, “Can you get it by Monday morning?”

“I think so.” Fitzgerald said.

“Good,” Lundy said. “You get the report. When Erin testifies after lunch, I’ll help her explain to the jury what really happened that night. I’ll arrange for this cop, Don what’s-his-name to be available Monday as our next witness. If things go the way I expect, we’ll be okay.”

Fitz wasn’t so sure. Call it cop’s intuition, but he had a bad feeling that he just couldn’t shake.

J
udge Morley started
the afternoon court session promptly. The jury filed into the courtroom.

Fitzgerald looked at their faces. The jurors looked straight ahead. No one smiled. It was hard for him to read what they were thinking. Generally, when it was a prosecution jury, they smiled at the investigating officer, so their blank stare couldn’t be good. On the other hand, what happened to Erin was serious stuff. Maybe that accounted for it.

“We are returning to the People versus Jake Babbage case,” Judge Morley said. “Ms. Collins, please take your seat in the witness box. You are still under oath. Mr. Giovanni, you may continue your cross-examination.”

Giovanni stood. “Your Honor, we have no further questions of the witness at this time.”

Fitz considered this. Giovanni must have decided he’d accomplished everything he needed.
Maybe he had
, Fitz thought.
Well, now it’s our turn. Let’s see what Lundy can do.

Judge Morley looked at Lundy. “Redirect examination?”

Standing without notes, Lundy began. “Ms. Collins, there was no answer to the last question posed by Mr. Giovanni, so I will re-ask it. Did you ever tell an undercover vice cop that you would perform oral sex for one hundred dollars?”

Erin shook her head. “Never.”

“Did you perform oral sex on the officer?”

“Never.”

“Were charges ever filed against you in connection with that case?”

“No. The case was thrown out of court.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Giovanni said. “It calls for a legal conclusion on the part of the witness.”

“Sustained.”

Lundy asked Erin, “Did a jury ever hear your case?”

“No.”

“Did you ever appear in front of a judge in connection with these events?”

“No. No charges were ever filed against me.”

“Ms. Collins,” Lundy continued, “do you remember the events that surrounded that arrest?”

“I remember them very clearly.”

“Tell us what happened.”

“Objection,” Giovanni said. “Calls for a narrative answer.”

“Sustained.”

Lundy began again. “Tell us how you met the vice officer that evening.”

“I was sitting at a bar at the Marina Hotel when he approached me.”

“Who spoke first?”

“He did. He seemed interested in me. He looked into my eyes and said romantic things and took my hand.”

Fitzgerald glanced at Babbage, who seemed amused and unconcerned. Giovanni leaned forward.
Probably
waiting to pounce when he hears an objectionable question
, thought Fitzgerald
.
The jury seemed interested. Everyone was taking notes.
Maybe things will turn out okay, after all
.

Lundy continued, “At some time that evening did you go to a room with him?”

“Yes.”

“How long after he first approached you did that happen?”

“About an hour.”

“And what did you do during that period of time?”

“We talked, laughed, and held hands.”

“Who suggested that you go to his room?”

“He did.”

“Was money mentioned at anytime before you left for his room?”

“No. He just said we could go there and talk.”

“When was money first mentioned?”

“When we were in his room, after he kissed me.”

“Who mentioned money first?”

“He did. He offered to give me one hundred dollars, and I said no. He kept trying to put the money in my purse. Finally, I got tired of saying no and didn’t remove it, and that’s when he arrested me.”

“Let me get this straight,” Lundy said. “An undercover vice officer picked you up in the bar, spent an hour holding hands and talking to you, asked you to his room, forced you to take money, then arrested you for prostitution. Correct?”

Giovanni stood abruptly. “Objection! The prosecutor is leading the witness. In addition, the question is compound.”

“Overruled.”

“Ms. Collins,” Lundy continued. “Did you offer to commit an act of prostitution for Officer Donald Rufus ”

“No. He seduced me, put money in my purse, and arrested me.”

“Objection!” shouted Giovanni.

“Overruled,” said the judge.

“I have no further questions, Your Honor.” Lundy sat down.

Fitzgerald looked at the jurors. The bald man in the front row was asleep.

F
itzgerald
, Erin, and Lundy met in Lundy’s office. Fitzgerald had a manila envelope in his hand.

“Did you get the report?” Lundy asked.

Fitzgerald tossed the envelope on Lundy’s desk. “I picked it up at the records division at seven this morning. I’ve already shown it to Erin.” Fitz knew what Lundy’s reaction would be, but Fitz hoped that Erin would be okay when she heard it.

Lundy opened the envelope, took out a document, and began to read it. “It’s pretty sparse.”

“That’s standard for these sorts of reports,” Fitzgerald said.

Lundy read out loud:

“It’s all a damned lie,” Erin said. “I never asked him if he was a cop. I never asked to see his penis.”

“I understand why they didn’t file it,” Lundy said. “He put the money in your purse before you asked for money. That totally violates our filing guidelines. But if I put him on the stand, and he says what he said in the report, it looks terrible. Plus, it’s Erin’s word against the police officer’s. Then we’re right where Giovanni wants us. A prostitution trial of Erin instead of concentrating on Babbage’s crime.” He paused. “That settles it. We can’t put this damn cop on the stand.”

She gave him a startled glance. “But you said you would!” Erin insisted. “You said Babbage was as good as convicted.”

“I was wrong,” Lundy said. “I’m sorry.”

Erin looked to Fitz, silently pleading.

“I have to agree,” Fitzgerald said. “It would be a disaster to put him on. I’m sorry, Erin.”

She sat still and stared straight ahead at nothing.

F
itzgerald was a realist
. The crime was reprehensible. Babbage’s semen had been found on Erin’s blouse. That one fact should have convinced the jury that Babbage had no right to walk about freely. But this was Los Angeles. Throughout his career, time and time again, juries did stupid things. No juror who heard the evidence in this trial ought to do anything other than convict, but Fitz was gravely worried. Because, time and time again, he’d been astounded by criminal jury verdicts that freed the guilty. Freed them in the face of overwhelming DNA evidence, fingerprint evidence, even video evidence that proved the crime beyond a shadow of a doubt. The list of these outrageous miscarriage-of-justice verdicts was endless, and the public knew the names of the accused defendants by heart.

Deputy DA Lundy was a nice guy and a professional trial attorney, but Fitzgerald could see that Giovanni had outmaneuvered him throughout the trial, resting without Babbage even testifying and without presenting any additional evidence. During defense argument, every juror’s eyes were on Babbage’s lawyer as he spoke.

At first Giovanni talked softly, but toward the conclusion of his closing, his voice became strong with anger. The People had failed to prove their case, he said. Babbage was only human, and he’d been seduced by a prostitute. A woman who sold sex and who attempted to use it as a bribe, attempting to corrupt a man dedicated to law enforcement. Fitzgerald noticed that even the dark-haired woman juror—who earlier appeared sympathetic to Erin leaned forward and took careful notes.

“Giovanni just made a major tactical error,” Lundy whispered smugly to Fitzgerald. “The jury won’t fall for that.” Fitzgerald didn’t respond. He was getting sick to his stomach and his head ached.

Lundy’s rebuttal was direct and to the point. Babbage had misused his power as a police officer to violate an innocent victim. The prosecutor argued that Giovanni had attempted to obscure Babbage’s outrageous abuse by attacking Erin. It was a smoke screen. The jury must see through it and send a message to Babbage that he would be held accountable for his acts.

But Fitzgerald worried throughout the rebuttal argument. He studied the jurors’ faces. They didn’t look at Lundy as he talked, didn’t take notes.

The judge instructed the jury and, finally, the matter was in their hands.

They went to Eric Lundy’s office to await the verdict.

Lundy was confident, he told them. But he didn’t look confident, Fitz thought.

Erin sat in the chair at Lundy’s desk and quietly stared out the window at the condemned Hall of Justice, across the street from the Criminal Court’s Building.

Despite everything, Fitz relaxed a little. Maybe it would be okay. In any event, he’d done all he could, and so had Erin. Regardless of the result, she could be proud, he told her. She’d shown Babbage that win or lose, there was a cost to victimizing her.

She didn’t reply.

Two hours later the clerk informed Lundy’s secretary that the jury had a verdict. Fitzgerald had always believed that quick jury verdicts usually meant that the jury had voted guilty. He certainly hoped that’s what it meant today.

Back in the courtroom, Fitzgerald noticed Babbage watching him as the jury filed in. Babbage continued to look at him as each juror sat down.

“Remain seated. The court is now in session,” the bailiff said.

Judge Morley looked to the jury. “Which of you is the foreperson?”

A young African-American man in the back row raised his hand. “I am, Your Honor.”

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.”

“Please hand the verdict to the bailiff.”

The foreperson handed a closed manila folder to the bailiff, who took it to the judge. Judge Morley examined the verdict form carefully.

Fitzgerald was weary. He was tired of seeing innocent victims like Erin blamed and attacked as if they’d caused the crime, tired of seeing victims treated as if they deserved whatever they got.

Judge Morley handed the verdict form to the clerk. “The clerk will read the verdict.”

The clerk started to read. “The People of the State of California versus Jake Babbage …”

Fitzgerald held his breath.

“We, the jury in the above entitled case, find the defendant to be … not guilty.”

Babbage grinned at Fitzgerald.