Michael Benson's True Crime Bundle (56 page)

Read Michael Benson's True Crime Bundle Online

Authors: Michael Benson

BOOK: Michael Benson's True Crime Bundle
2.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Tami Treadway had shoulder-length black hair and wide, sincere eyes. She wore white pants and a green golf shirt, with an official canine logo on the left breast.
With Lon Arend questioning, Treadway said she was an Animal Services supervisor, twenty-two and a half years as a civilian employee, who used trained dogs on search-and-rescue missions.
She described her dog, Canine Sekou, as an eight-year-old golden retriever. They had been a team for six years. The dog lived with her and slept with her.
It was Sekou who discovered the suspicious spot that turned out to be the victim’s burial site, forty feet from the road, in a clearing but provided cover by a line of thick vegetation. Treadway was shown an aerial photo of the site. She testified that it was an accurate depiction.
The site was suspicious because of disturbed earth, darker than that all around it, a pile of sand off to one side, and uprooted plants. She left the spot to tell police in the area that there was a suspicious location. Oddly, she’d had to contact two searching officers because the first one
ignored
her.
Along with the burial site, the dog also sniffed out several dinner plate–sized piles of sand that were covering up a dark red substance, apparently blood.
 
 
On cross, defense attorney John Scotese asked Tami Treadway how many agencies were involved in the search. She said she wasn’t sure of the exact number, but a lot. Even Fish & Wildlife had people searching.
“All in all, there were about one hundred people involved in the search,” Treadway said.
After years of experience, she knew when Sekou picked up a pertinent scent. He sniffed first along the barbed-wire fence, on both sides. “Used to” barbed wire, the dog went under the fence without difficulty.
When her dog hit on the site, she knew better than to try to disturb the scene in any way. Someone far more qualified than she would do the digging.
Nothing to gain, Scotese cut his cross-examination short.
 
 
The state called Lisa Lanham, a Sarasota County crime scene technician, a position she’d held since 1996. Her job was to report to crime scenes, and to collect and preserve evidence.
On the night of January 18, 2008, she was called to report to a scene off Plantation Road, to assist North Port police, who were already there. She described the spot located by Tami Treadway’s trained dog. First order of business was to preserve the entire site. The location was taped off, photographed from every angle, and covered. A white tent was put up between the road and the site, beside the large pile of sand. This would serve as the “staging area” for law enforcement personnel. A blue tent was put up over the suspicious site, to protect it from contamination, especially if it rained again. The tent also gave the excavation process privacy. Lon Arend showed Lanham an aerial photo of the site and she positively identified it as the spot to which she had reported on that day.
Photographs were introduced. The witness remained in her seat and indicated locations on the projected photograph with a red laser pointer. The jury could see how the palmetto brush grew and grew and then stopped at the spot. Reeds stood up, up, up, and then were flat.
Between the road and the suspicious site were the dinner plate–sized piles of white sand—the witness called it “sugar sand”—that had apparently been taken from the big pile nearby, to cover up blood.
The defense objected to this statement. Since this witness had not personally tested the substance, and had no way of knowing what the dark red substance was, she was coming to a conclusion when she called it “blood.” From that point on, then, she referred to the substance as “apparent blood.” Whatever the substance was, it was clear that it was there first, and the sand had been placed there after, covering it up.
Lanham explained that they had to be very careful when photographing the apparent blood. There were tufts of red-bladed grass in the area that greatly resembled the green grass and palm fronds stained by blood.
Objection.
“Apparent blood,” the witness said.
Close-up photos of the smaller sand piles were shown. Each had been marked by a numbered flag. Some of those piles covered up droplets of blood, but one covered up “pooled apparent blood.”
“Ms. Lanham, could you tell us what you mean by ‘pooled’? ”
“When something that is bleeding rests in one position for a length of time, the blood pools around that item. If you spill it, milk would pool in the same way.”
Also found in the area, and marked with a flag, was apparent blood that the killer had missed—apparent blood without sand covering it.
“Did excavation begin that evening?” Arend asked.
“No,” the witness replied. “The operation resumed in the daylight.”
To prevent water seepage from affecting the suspicious site, sandbags were placed on either end. Once excavation began, the site was revealed to be—as suspected—a burial site.
Lanham remained at the site as the victim’s body was discovered, removed from the grave site, and taken to the medical examiner for autopsy. At that point, her responsibility at the site ended. She packed up her equipment and left.
 
 
On cross-examination, John Scotese wanted to talk about evidence contamination. What types were there? Water damage, things falling off the trees onto a site that weren’t there previously, trace evidence placed by well-meaning police examining the area. To prevent the latter, a log was kept; and everyone who entered and left the crime scene logged in and out. And the people inside the police tape were kept to a minimum. While working, Lisa Lanham wore gloves, booties, a plastic suit, and a cap.
“You are aware that before the area was sealed off, there were ways for the evidence to be contaminated?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any way of knowing whether or not this scene was contaminated by police before you got there?”
“No.”
“Are you aware that contamination of evidence can be purposeful?”
“I haven’t seen that.”
“Do you realize this site was at risk for purposeful contamination?”
“I suppose... .”
“Should precautions be taken with regard to storage of items of potential evidentiary value?”
“Sure, most urgently to prevent evidence from disintegrating in the Florida heat.”
“When you made your thorough search of the area, did you find a nine-millimeter gun?”
“I did not personally, no.”
“Find any bullets?”
“Not at that time, no.”
 
 
On redirect, Lon Arend asked, “At the time you were at the crime scene, were you looking for shell casings?”
“I was not,” Lisa Lanham replied.
Judge Economou noted the hour, quarter to twelve, and gave everyone an extra fifteen minutes for lunch.
“It’s a beautiful day. Eat, go outside,” he suggested to the jury, knowing what was in store for that panel of peers.
 
 
When the jury returned, Judge Economou solemnly warned them that they were in for a rough afternoon. Following a viewing of a crime scene video, they would listen to a 911 call, and it had been stipulated that the voice on the tape was that of Denise Lee.
The videotape showed the grave site—before, during, and after excavation. As it started, the photographer (Lisa Lanham) was looking north. The large pile of sand was on the left; the thick line of foliage was to the right. Visible were places in the big pile where shovelsful of sand had been recently removed. The camera panned right to a spot where the foliage was not as thick, and the barbed-wire fence was visible.
Michael King watched the video unblinkingly.
The vegetation near that fence, one could see, was made up predominantly of palmetto leaves. The camera panned back and to the left, until it had returned to its starting point. The next shot was a close-up of the spots of apparent blood partially covered with sand and marked with numbered evidence flags. The spot of pooled blood was shown last.
The camera showed all of the blood spots before moving to a spot closer to the fence where the weeds were beaten down, where the earth was disturbed, and then covered with loose vegetation. There were sandbags at the north and south ends of the spot. The video did not have sound, but it was clear that this was the spot where the excavation would be done.
That spot was next shown with the vegetation removed, and then at various stages of excavation. According to an earlier ruling by the judge, the jury was not allowed to see the portion of the tape that showed the body as it was unearthed. Instead, a single still photo of the ghastly scene was inserted in the video, replacing the moving images. Finally the video showed a hole—the body of Denise Lee already removed.
“Now I know there are some family members that would like to leave at this point,” the judge said. Among others, Denise’s mother and sister got up and left.
Denise’s husband and father remained. Rick Goff rocked with nervous tension. He’d heard the tape before—back before they’d even found Denise—to confirm that it was her voice.
Nate Lee had heard it before as well, at the recommendation of the prosecution, which didn’t want Nate to be hearing the tape for the first time in the courtroom.
The jurors were each given a copy of a transcript of the tape, which had been stipulated as accurate. They would be able to read along as they listened, but they would not be allowed to keep the transcripts, or use them as reference during deliberation.
The judge also emphasized that the transcript was not evidence; the tape was evidence. If they heard something different from what they read, they were to believe their ears,
not
their eyes.
It is impossible to put into words the effect a tape such as this has on a listener—a woman begging for her life. The word that best describes the effect is “traumatic.” People in that courtroom would later experience insomnia, anxiety, and even depression. Rick Goff rocked rhythmically and shuddered, working just to stay inside his skin.
In a room filled with good posture, the defendant’s slouch made him conspicuous. He wasn’t following along with the transcript, as were his lawyers, the judge, and the jury. It wasn’t interesting to him. He’d heard it before. He was
there.
Jerry Meisner and John Scotese kept their eyes on the transcript throughout the tape, but Carolyn Schlemmer twice lifted her head and looked back and to her left. Clearly in pain, she was perhaps making sure there were no imminent physical threats to her client.
Emotionless, Michael King kept his eyes lowered, but he did look up to flick his eyes from side to side a couple of times. As Denise Lee was heard pleading for her life, begging to be allowed to return to her beautiful husband and sons, this was a courtroom consumed with hate—hatred for him. He could stand to see it only for a flash before returning his eyes to the table in front of him.
 
 
When the tape was over, the state called Deputy Anthony Egoville to testify. He was a fourteen-year veteran of the SCSO and worked in the warrants division and on the emergency response team (ERT).
Deputy Egoville was the one who’d discovered the nine-millimeter shell casing near the sand pile. Egoville, who seemed himself on the verge of tears, explained that he had been at the site the night before Denise Lee’s body was discovered, as well as the day after. It was during his second search that he made his important discovery.
Of course, he had not been the only searcher. He was part of a team of thirty that were “line searching” the area—searching tight together and in a line so every square foot was scrutinized.
It was just happenstance that he had been one of the searchers to grab one of the ten to fifteen metal detectors that his team had available to them. His beeped as he was searching a spot just northeast of the big pile of sand. At first, he couldn’t see what had made the metal detector react. But when he reached down and pushed blades of grass out of the way, he found the nine-millimeter shell casing.
“I flagged the spot and continued searching,” Egoville testified.
On cross-examination, John Scotese, as was becoming the norm, was concerned with what the witness
didn’t
find. Any other casings discovered? No. Bullets? No. Gun? Nope.
(No one knows how much of Deputy Egoville’s testimony the jury registered. They were partially in shock—had to be—so soon after hearing state’s exhibit 102, the victim’s 911 call.)
 
 
The state’s next witness was Lieutenant Ed Fitzpatrick, who’d been a North Port police officer for sixteen years. Now, as in 2008, he was a district commander. On January 22, two days after the discovery of the shell casing near the grave site, Fitzpatrick supervised a search of thick brush along both sides of Plantation Boulevard. He was informed that items of clothing had been discovered and so ordered the area around the items sealed off.

Other books

Traitors to All by Giorgio Scerbanenco
Trouble in a Stetson by Regina Carlysle
Come Back To Me by C.D. Taylor
Madelyn's Nephew by Ike Hamill
Too Close by Sasha White
Barbecue and Bad News by Nancy Naigle
Kissing the Demons by Kate Ellis
Homecoming by Cooper West