Sleeping Beauty (24 page)

“I don't have the exact figures with me.”

“Is it safe to say that the company manufactures a lot of duct tape every year?”

“Yes.”

“Thousands of rolls?”

“Probably.”

“And these rolls are distributed nationally?”

“Yes.”

“So it's quite possible that a murderer in Michigan and another totally unconnected murderer in Arizona could have purchased rolls from the same company?”

Agent Booth glanced toward Delilah before answering, and received a brief smile. Booth looked back at Swoboda.

“That is correct.”

“When you began your testimony you stated that the FBI had identified murders in several states that—and I quote—‘
may
be the work of the same serial killer'—unquote. That's correct, isn't it?”

“I believe so.”

“Why did you say ‘
may
be the work'? Why weren't you more positive?”

“The evidence points to the same person committing the murders, but we can't say that this is a fact with one hundred percent certainty until the person confesses.”

“Are there dissimilarities between some of the murders?”

Agent Booth glanced at Delilah, who kept her face blank.

“Did you understand my question, Agent Booth?”

“There were indications in the Connecticut and Montana cases that more than one person may have been in the home when the murders occurred.”

“There were two killers?” Swoboda asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide his surprise.

“The perpetrator of these two crimes may have had an accomplice, but we could never be certain. In all other respects, the modus operandi in all of the crimes I mentioned was consistent with a single murderer having committed all of the murders.”

“But if there were two killers involved in two of the crimes and only one killer in the other crimes, we might be dealing with unrelated homicides, right?”

“That is one possibility.”

“If that's true then we'd have a situation where one person independently committed a crime that was almost identical to a crime committed by two other people, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that would make it less amazing if a third person—a writer, say—also thought up a make-believe plot with a similar crime, wouldn't it?”

“I guess so,” Agent Booth answered reluctantly.

“Thank you, Agent Booth,” Swoboda said with a triumphant smile. “I have no further questions.”

“Any redirect, Miss Wallace?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor. Agent Booth, Mr. Swoboda brought up the possibility that a killer in Arizona and a different killer in Michigan purchased separate rolls of duct tape made by the same manufacturer before committing their crimes, creating the false appearance that the crimes were related.”

“Yes.”

“Did the FBI ever establish a link between the duct tape used in Arizona and the duct tape used in Michigan that eliminated the possibility of coincidence?”

“Yes. The same exact roll of duct tape was used by the killer in Arizona and the killer in Michigan.”

“How do you know that?”

“Our lab examined the ends of the duct tape used in every case and they found that one piece that was used to bind the hands of one of the Arizona victims fit a piece from the Michigan case like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was a one hundred percent physical match.”

T
he next morning, Ashley and Jerry Philips watched Randy Coleman swagger down the aisle, looking right and left, like a boxer entering the ring in an important fight. Coleman was wearing a new suit and he'd shaved and gotten a haircut. Ashley guessed that Coleman had not had many high points in his life and he was making the best of his fifteen minutes of fame.

“Mr. Coleman, are you the husband of Casey Van Meter, one of the victims in this case?” Delilah asked her witness.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“When did you get married?”

“Six years ago.”

“After two months of marriage, did Ms. Van Meter file for divorce?”

“Yes, but we were working that out when Maxfield tried to kill her.”

“Objection. Not responsive to the question,” Swoboda said. “Move to strike.”

“Sustained. Jurors, you will disregard all of the witness's answer, except his affirmation that he and his wife were in the midst of a divorce.”

“Mr. Coleman,” Delilah said, “can you tell the jury about an encounter you had with the defendant at the Oregon Academy pool?”

Delilah had gone over the questions that she was going to ask on direct with Coleman. She had told him that there was nothing wrong
with admitting that he and Casey Van Meter had been arguing, but Coleman had been very defensive and she prayed that he wouldn't mess up her case.

“Yeah, sure. I came to the school to talk to Casey. I knew she really didn't want to split up with me and I was sure we could work things out if we talked about our problems. She liked to swim in the pool and I found her doing laps. We'd just started talking when Maxfield attacked me from behind. I didn't have a chance. If he hadn't sneak-attacked me, I….”

“Mr. Coleman,” Delilah cut in, “during this altercation did the defendant make any threats to you?”

“Yeah. He threatened to kill me. He said he'd rig explosives to my car or my apartment.”

“Moving to another subject, were you present at the Sunny Rest nursing home when the defendant was rearrested?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Coleman's chest puffed up and he smiled at the jurors. “I captured him and saved Ashley Spencer's life.”

“Please tell the jury what happened.”

“Casey had been in this coma for years. At first, I was really bummed out. I tried to convince myself that she'd wake up someday soon. I didn't think visiting her would do any good. Her doctor told me she couldn't hear me or say anything, and I was afraid I'd be too upset if I saw her like a vegetable. Plus her father was real hostile to me. I think he was the one who talked Casey into filing for divorce. He was very domineering.”

“Objection,” Swoboda said. “The witness isn't answering the question.”

“Yes, Mr. Coleman,” the judge said, “you are getting pretty far afield.”

“Sorry, Judge.”

“Why don't you tell the jury what happened during your visit to the Sunny Rest nursing home on the day of the defendant's arrest?” Delilah said, praying that Coleman would stay on track.

“Okay. I was in town for the guardianship hearing and I decided to visit Casey. It was raining real heavy. I parked my car but I didn't get out. At first I really wanted to visit Casey, but then I worried about what she'd
look like. I mean she'd been knocked out for five years. So I was sitting in my car, wondering what to do, when I saw Ashley Spencer leaving the nursing home. I figured that she'd just come from visiting Casey and I'd ask her what it was like.”

Ashley looked over at Maxfield. He was sitting up and his eyes were drilling into Coleman. It was the first time in a while that he'd shown any signs of life.

“Lucky for her I decided I wanted to talk,” Coleman went on. “By the time I got out of my car, she was running toward hers. I ducked my head because of the rain and followed her. When I looked up, a guy was coming at her with a knife.”

“Could you see the assailant's face?” Delilah asked.

“No. He was wearing a hood.”

“What happened next?”

“Ashley kicked him and ran. He went after her. I knew the guy had a knife, but I wasn't gonna let that stop me. So I tackled him and wrestled him to the ground. Then, the cops arrived.”

“Did you finally get to see the face of the man who tried to murder Ashley Spencer?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And who was it?”

Coleman paused for effect before pointing at Joshua Maxfield. Maxfield glared at Coleman.

“The man who tried to stab Ashley Spencer to death is Joshua Maxfield, the defendant,” Coleman said, raising his voice dramatically.

“No further questions.”

Eric Swoboda crossed the room and stood a few inches from the witness.

“Mr. Coleman, I noticed that the prosecutor didn't ask you what you do for a living. Is that because she doesn't want the jury to know that you work for the Las Vegas mob?”

“That's a lie. I'm a businessman. Just because I work in Las Vegas doesn't make me a gangster.”

“What is the name of your company?”

“American Investments.”

“Hasn't American Investments been the target of a federal grand jury looking into money laundering?”

“That was a mistake. Nothing came of that.”

“Is that because Myron Lemke, the government's star witness, was murdered before he could testify?”

“Objection,” Delilah said. “Hearsay, irrelevant, and it violates the evidentiary rules on prior bad acts admissibility.”

“I'm going to sustain the objection. Move on, Mr. Swoboda.”

“Have you ever been convicted of a crime?”

“Yeah, years ago.”

“What was the crime?”

“Assault.”

“Were you ever convicted of theft?”

“That was a mistake. I thought I had money in my checking account and….”

“The jury didn't agree with your defense, did it?” Swoboda asked.

“No,” Coleman answered reluctantly.

“Mr. Coleman, you testified that Mr. Maxfield attacked you at the Oregon Academy swimming pool?”

“Yeah, from behind.”

“At the time that he confronted you, were you holding Casey Van Meter's wrist and calling her a bitch?”

“I don't remember that.”

“You don't remember attacking Ms. Van Meter?”

“No. We were talking.”

Delilah sighed inwardly but showed the jury none of what she was feeling. She'd needed Coleman to prove that Maxfield tried to knife Ashley at Sunny Rest and that point had been made. Fortunately, the jurors didn't have to like Coleman to believe him.

“You're saying that Mr. Maxfield attacked you from behind for no reason in front of scores of witnesses?”

“The guy's a psycho. He didn't need a reason.”

“Mr. Coleman, your wife is going to testify later in this case. Do you still contend that you were not assaulting her when Mr. Maxfield came to her rescue?”

“She's had a serious head injury. I don't think her memory is too good.”

“We are prepared to call several former students who were in the pool that day. Do you still want to maintain this fiction?”

“Call anyone you want. I don't know what they'll say. We may have been arguing. Casey could get upset over nothing.”

“What were you arguing about?”

“The divorce. I was trying to make her see reason.”

“That's because Ms. Van Meter was rich and you couldn't get your hands on her money if she divorced you?”

“No. I didn't care about the money. I love her.”

“That's why you didn't go see her at any time while she was wasting away at the nursing home?”

“I already told you about that. It was too much for me to see her like that.”

“Yes, we can all see how sensitive you are,” Swoboda said.

“Objection,” Delilah said.

“Sustained,” Judge Shimazu answered.

Swoboda turned his back on Coleman and took a few steps down the jury box.

“So it was love, not Ms. Van Meter's money, that caused you to seek an appointment as the guardian of her forty million dollars?”

Several jurors reacted when they heard the sum. Coleman didn't answer. Swoboda turned back toward him.

“How long did you know Ms. Van Meter before you married?”

“Three days,” Coleman mumbled.

“I didn't hear that, Mr. Coleman,” Swoboda said.

“Three days.”

“Gee, it must have been love at first sight.”

“Yeah.”

“And where did you meet?”

“The casino at the Mirage.”

“And in what church were you married?”

“It wasn't a church.”

“Oh. Then where did you get hitched?”

“The, uh, Chapel of True Love.”

“I see. What time of day or night were the nuptials?”

“Four in the morning, I think.”

“Mr. Coleman, if Casey Van Meter died before coming out of her coma, you would have inherited millions of dollars, wouldn't you?”

“I don't know the exact amount.”

“In fact, since no one knew that Ashley Spencer was Ms. Van Meter's daughter until recently, you would have inherited everything that Ms. Van Meter had, because she had no will and you were her husband.”

“What's your question?” Coleman asked.

“My question? Okay, I'll ask one. You had a good reason to want Casey Van Meter dead, didn't you?”

“No. I love her.”

“More than forty million dollars?”

“Asked and answered,” Delilah cut in.

“Overruled,” the judge said. “Do you understand the question, Mr. Coleman?”

“No.”

“Miles Van Meter was trying to be appointed as Ms. Van Meter's guardian, wasn't he?” Swoboda asked.

“Yes.”

“He had made it clear that he wanted to end his sister's suffering, had he not?”

“I heard something about that.”

“That would have let you inherit her money, right?”

“I guess.”

“You knew that Ashley Spencer was trying to be appointed Ms. Van Meter's guardian, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“She wanted to keep her mother alive, didn't she?”

“Yes.”

“Which would mean that you wouldn't get any money.”

“So?”

“With Ashley dead, either you or Miles Van Meter would have been appointed as guardian, right?”

“Yes.”

“Either way, Ms. Van Meter would have been taken off life support and you would have inherited Ms. Van Meter's millions. Only Ashley stood in your way. That gave you a pretty good motive to stab her to death in the nursing-home parking lot, didn't it?”

“I told you, he tried to kill her,” Coleman said, pointing at Maxfield.

“Your Honor, I'd like to put a diagram of the Sunny Rest nursing home on the easel.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Swoboda.”

Maxfield's attorney placed a large piece of poster board on an easel that sat next to the witness box. The off-white rectangle had been filled in with a diagram of the Sunny Rest parking lot. The main building was at the top. Below it were two parallel lines that designated the road that separated the building from the parking lot. Each parking space was designated by a blue square. At the bottom were two more parallel lines that represented another road. Swoboda held a red Magic Marker over a square in the second row from the building that was two in from the left side of the lot.

“This is where you were parked, isn't it?” the lawyer asked.

“Looks right,” Coleman answered.

Swoboda wrote
COLEMAN
in the parking space. Then he moved the marker down two rows and over to the second square from the right to a box that was three rows from the bottom of the diagram.

“And this is where Miss Spencer parked?”

“Yeah.”

Swoboda wrote
SPENCER
in the box.

“You testified that you saw Miss Spencer come out of Sunny Rest and walk to her car?”

“It was more like running.”

“Okay. Where was she when you got out of your car?”

“About a row from hers.”

“What route did you take to get to Miss Spencer?”

“Uh, I went straight up to her row and across.”

“So you were moving from left to right when you reached her row?”

“Yeah.”

“Were there cars on either side of Miss Spencer's car?”

“I'm not certain.”

Swoboda went back to counsel table and picked up a photograph. He handed it to Coleman.

“This was taken by the police shortly after Miss Spencer was attacked. It shows her car?”

“Yeah.”

“And there is a van closest to you on one side and another car on the other side of Miss Spencer's car?”

“Yes.”

“I move to admit Defense Exhibit 79, Your Honor,” Swoboda said.

“No objection,” Delilah said.

“Mr. Coleman, you testified that your head was down as you ran because of the heavy rain. Then you looked up and saw a man attacking Miss Spencer.”

“Right.”

“You were in the row between the cars with Miss Spencer's car to your right?”

“Yeah.”

“How far were you from Miss Spencer's car?”

“A few down.”

“So the assailant is in front of you and Miss Spencer is between the cars in front of her assailant?”

“Yeah.”

Swoboda drew X's for Coleman, the attacker, and Ashley. Then he stood back so the jury could see the diagram clearly.

“How was it possible for you to see Miss Spencer kick her attacker, Mr. Coleman? A kick is delivered from the waist down. From three cars away, your view would be blocked by the van that was next to Miss Spencer's car and the attacker's back.”

“I…I saw it,” Coleman insisted.

“Yes you did, because you're the one she kicked when you attacked Ashley Spencer in the parking lot. It was my client who rescued her.”