“The last couple times we spoke, Jen told me the defendant was showing a side of himself he hadn’t shown before. Like he was Jekyll and Hyde. He tried to kick her out of the house on a moment’s notice.”
I could object to all this as hearsay. But I want this damning testimony in. It will scare David and Marcie and move me closer to my endgame.
“Jennifer was afraid,” Brian continues. “She told me so, and I could hear it in her voice. But the thing was, she loved him. And she said she believed he really loved her, too, deep down. But he had a wife he felt he couldn’t get away from. So Jen was going to do something about it.”
“Do what?”
“She was going to tell his wife. About them.”
“When was this, exactly?”
Brian inhales, looks up at the ceiling, then back at the jurors. “The night before the police found her. It was 6:00 p.m. my time, so it had to be nine here on the East Coast. I called to see how she was doing. We talked for a long time. That’s when she told me she was going to come clean with his wife. She said she’d warn the defendant first. Give him a chance to get ready for whatever his wife might do. Then she was going to call their house and lay the cards on the table.”
And just like that, Devlin has motive. A cheating husband’s lover threatens to disclose the affair to his wife. He freaks out, pushes her down the stairs.
I can already hear Devlin Walker replay it in his closing argument. I can see the jurors leaning forward in their seats as Devlin’s oratory sweeps them into the final, terrible moments of Jennifer Yamura’s life. Except that Devlin will never get that chance; I have to make sure of it.
Devlin thanks Brian Yamura for his testimony, and the judge turns the witness over to me. Instead of walking to center court, seizing control of a hostile witness, I remain seated. My message to the jury: I will question the victim’s brother, but I will not bully him.
“Mr. Yamura, let me begin by expressing my heartfelt sorrow for your loss.” I’ve never begun a cross like this, and my words are not a ploy. My heart is truly breaking for Brian Yamura, his mother, his father. Jennifer Yamura didn’t deserve to be killed, and her family doesn’t deserve to suffer as they are. “You shared with all of us that you and your sister were close and spoke often. I assume Jennifer told you about the trouble she was in with Mr. Walker and the crooked cops?”
Brian Yamura stares at me, and I can tell I’ve hit home. Behind me, Devlin is undoubtedly squirming in his seat, because I’m opening a part of the narrative that he chose not to share with Brian Yamura—or the jury.
“Did your sister tell you that she’d broken a story on a ring of crooked police officers in Philadelphia?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you that, in doing so, she made public a grand jury whose very existence was being kept secret by Mr. Walker, the prosecutor here?”
“She told me about the grand jury.”
“Did she tell you that Mr. Walker subpoenaed her to a grand jury, then personally threatened her with contempt and imprisonment if she didn’t show up and disclose the source of her information?”
“That was him?” Brian Yamura looks at Devlin as he answers. He’s wondering why the same guy who was threatening his sister is the one now seeking to avenge her death.
“Yes, it was,” I say. “Did your sister share with you that she was afraid of the crooked cops whose names she revealed?”
Brian hesitates but answers honestly, to a point. “Maybe a little afraid.”
“Are you aware that one of the police officers who ratted on the others was gunned down on a city street?”
Devlin objects, but this time the judge overrules him.
“I think I heard something about that.” Brian Yamura answers my question, but he’s not looking at me or the jury. He’s looking at Devlin Walker.
“Thank you, Mr. Yamura. I know this is difficult for you.”
As I expected would be the case, my cross has done nothing to undermine Brian Yamura’s testimony, and Devlin knows it.
“No questions, Your Honor,” Devlin says. “The Commonwealth rests.”
The judge calls us to the bench. Once we’re in position, he says, “I’m going to tell the jury to disregard everything they’ve heard about the defendant’s trips to Mexico and Grand Cayman, and the four million dollars.” Devlin begins to protest, but the judge puts up his hand, telling Devlin, “If you want me to reconsider, file a motion. I’ll consider it carefully, but I have to tell you now that I’m not likely to change my mind. And there’s not going to be a mistrial,” he adds, looking at me.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing in the spectator benches with my team—Vaughn, Marcie, and Alexander Ginsberg. This is the first time Piper hasn’t left the courtroom as soon as the trial day is over. She stands one row behind us.
“Alexander, your thoughts?” I ask.
“You’ve been doing a great job,” he says. “But today . . .” Here he turns to Marcie. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, Mrs. Hanson, but I have to be candid—today has been a train wreck for the defense. The brutality of the crime, the picture of the victim crawling away, maybe begging for her life, crying, really got the jury. The methodical way the killer retrieved her, took her back to the steps to bleed out . . . That speaks to premeditation. And Brian Yamura gave the prosecution the only thing it lacked: motive.”
I look to Vaughn, who nods in agreement. I glance back at Piper. She’s frozen in place. I nod, then look back at Ginsberg, who continues. “You have one chance here, Mick. This jury is absolutely convinced that, at the time Jennifer Yamura was murdered, your client was right there with her. You have to present the jury with a compelling alibi. Your client has to take the stand, convince them he was somewhere else. Convince them beyond a reasonable doubt.”
“But it’s the prosecution’s burden to prove . . .” Piper’s voice startles us all.
Ginsberg, Vaughn, and Marcie pivot around to look at her.
“You’re quite right,” Ginsberg says. “In theory. But when the prosecution has put on a case as emotionally compelling as the one presented here, to the point that the jury wants to convict, it becomes the burden of the defense—in fact, if not in law—to come forward with irrefutable evidence showing the prosecution’s view to be frankly false. To put it simply, you have to put the lie to the prosecution’s entire case.”
I look at Marcie and, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear and strong enough to bring home my point, I say, “David’s going to have to testify to where he was at the time of the murder. And he’ll need to give the jury something more than his word. He’ll need corroboration.”
I let my little speech hang in the air. Then I tell everyone to go home and get a good night’s sleep. I walk Piper into the hallway and tell her I’ll be home by eight or nine. “I’ve got to meet with David in his holding cell now, then get ready for tomorrow.”