The Victim (8 page)

“
Good morning, Anton.” She gazed at Quincy Arrington in the jury box. There was no fear in her eyes. Like most prosecutors she was empowered by the sanctity of the courtroom. “So, what are we doing?”

The case was set for a sounding. The judge would want to know if each side was ready for trial.

The evidence was more than enough to convict. The surveillance video footage had been digitally enhanced through the local FBI office so that Quincy’s distinguishing marks—such as the
m.o.b.
tattoo across his throat—were clearly visible. However, the ace in the hole was that the DNA swab taken off the cinderblock rendered an inclusion ratio of one in ten billion when compared against a buccal swab taken after Quincy’s arrest. While his previous run-ins had taught him to invoke his rights and not give a statement, the video, the testimony of the girlfriend, and the DNA were enough. That and the consciousness of guilt he displayed by hiding under a bed at his auntie’s house when the police came to serve the arrest warrant.

The problem was that due to a backlog in the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, the DNA results had just been provided to Anton last week. It was a late discovery.

“
I’m asking for a state-charged continuance. You just got me the DNA results last week.” Anton leafed through his file for the amended discovery document. He’d even saved the envelope to show the postmark as proof. “I can’t be ready for trial without having my own expert retest the sample.”

“
State continuance? You still have three witnesses you haven’t deposed!”

“
The pace that I set my depositions doesn’t negate your duty to disclose evidence in a timely fashion.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a one in ten billion match? I didn’t realize there was a margin for error.”

Anton shrugged his shoulders. “You never know.”

“
Just remember, there are only seven billion people on the planet. Your client’s DNA is so rare even if we find life in outer space he’s still the only person in the known universe who could have put his sweaty palms on that piece of cinderblock.”

“
Given your failure to provide timely discovery, how about a plea?”

Sylvia pointed to the gallery. The rows were filled with at least twenty uniformed Miami police officers, including the president of the Police Benevolent Association, their union. It was a show of solidarity for their fallen brother. They had attended each and every hearing since Quincy’s arrest.

“
Fat chance. You’ve got the PBA, the press, and the state attorney all demanding a pound of flesh. Dayan Campos has such irreparable brain damage that he can’t remember his kids’ names. No deal.”

“
Thirty years.”

“
No way.”

A door opened and the judge walked in behind her bailiff.

“
All rise,” he said. “The Circuit Court for the Eleventh Judicial Circuit is now in session. The Honorable Cristina Pena presiding. Please turn off your cell phones.”

Judge Pena took a seat. She knew that the Arrington matter was on calendar. Her makeup was subtle, almost perfect. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair gleamed under the lights.

“
Good morning, sorry for being late,” she said as usual, smiling to her clerks and prosecutors and assistant public defenders. “To accommodate the media I’d like to take the Quincy Arrington case first if you all don’t mind.”

The judge requested the file from the clerk. She handed it to her and she read the style and calendar page number into the record. “On page eleven,
State of Florida versus Quincy Arrington
, case number F08-9571. Note for the record the presence of the defendant, who is in custody.”

Sylvia and Anton approached their respective podiums.

“
Sylvia Kaplan on behalf of the State, Your Honor.”

“
Anton Mackey on behalf of Quincy Arrington, Judge.”

The judge scanned the docket entry sheet, familiarizing herself with the recent developments in the case. Finished, she looked toward Sylvia. “State?”

“
Your Honor, the State is prepared for trial and has been for some time. However, the State is getting a little irritated with the pace defense counsel is taking in preparing for trial.”

Anton could feel the cameras on him. “Your Honor,” he interjected. “My client is charged with attempting to murder a Miami-Dade police officer. He’s entitled to due process. And frankly it’s a bit disingenuous for the State to be claiming to be ready for trial and attacking the manner in which I prepare when I just received the DNA results last week.”

Judge Pena turned to Sylvia, glaring with disapproval. “State, is that true?”

“
Well, uh, yeah, Your Honor. Unfortunately, the crime lab is backed up and DNA results have been taking a little more time than we’d like. But due process doesn’t mean that it takes nearly five years to set fourteen depositions. A public defender could knock those out in a week.”

Anton held his jaw tight although he was fuming from the cheap shot.

Judge Pena shook her head. “Ms. Kaplan, I’m not going to let you hold up this case on account of the fact that the county can’t get evidence processed in a timely manner. It’s the State’s responsibility to turn over all evidence to the defense. You’d think given your position at the State Attorney’s Office and the seriousness of this case, considering it involves a police officer as a victim, you’d be able to make a phone call over to the crime lab and have this thing expedited.”

“
Well, Your Honor, like I said. These things take time. Besides, the inclusion ratio is one in ten billion. It’s not like there’s tremendous room for error. Mr. Mackey has yet to demonstrate to this court just how he is prejudiced by this delay.”

“
Enough excuses!” Judge Pena hunched forward, pointing a finger in Sylvia’s direction. “I don’t care how close a match there is. That doesn’t take away from the fact that Mr. Mackey is entitled to investigate his case and provide a thorough defense. Don’t shift the burden here. It’s your job to make sure that these things are done. This case has been dragging on long enough. So don’t you dare come into
my
courtroom and announce ready for trial when you can’t even comply with your discovery obligations!”

Sylvia’s cheeks turned red. She struggled for a retort but Anton jumped in, seizing the opportunity.

“
Your Honor, I resent the State’s claim that just because their expert says the DNA match is one in ten billion that I should simply take their word for it and do no follow-up. If that’s the State’s position, then why even take depositions? Why even conduct discovery? Let’s just take the cop’s word for it. I ask that this court charge a continuance to the State and provide me ample time to have my expert retest this DNA sample. This man’s going on trial for his life.”

Out of the corner of his eye Anton could see the other in-custody inmates nodding along. Jack always stressed the importance of putting on a show when standing at the podium. Let the other inmates see you, hear your passion. Jack’s shows were still legendary around the Gerstein Building.

“
Mr. Mackey, I agree that your client is entitled to zealous representation, which he clearly has,” Judge Pena said. “But sooner or later, this case has to be tried. How much time do you need? I understand there are also outstanding depositions.”

“
The soonest trial date available,” Sylvia muttered.

Judge Pena shot her a look. “State, this court is inclined to provide Mr. Mackey with sufficient time to have his expert retest the DNA given
your
failure in turning it over.”

Anton handed the order permitting his defense expert to retest the DNA sample to the clerk, who passed it up to the bench. Anton reminded the judge that his client was previously declared indigent for costs meaning that the State of Florida would cover the expense.

“
I’m going to charge this a state continuance. In the meantime, I’d like all of these outstanding issues to be resolved. DNA tested and depositions taken. Madam Clerk, please give us a trial date after six months.”

CHAPTER 9

April 1, 2003

Phoenix, Arizona

She hit
rewind
, watching the outdated news footage scurry backwards in time.

The trooper stood behind a podium in front of the Arizona Department of Public Safety district office in Globe. The brim of his Smokey Bear was just an inch above his beady eyes. He had a wide nose and cheeks that were too fat for his face. His double chin hung low, concealing his neck. His short sleeves cinched his fleshy arms. His skin was the color of potting clay. In any other part of the world he’d be presumed Hawaiian.

The chevrons on his sleeves and silver leaf pins on each point of his collar indicated a high rank. His name and title were superimposed on the screen beneath the podium.
Lieutenant Colonel Kyle Chee, Spokesperson, Arizona Department of Public Safety, District 11
.

He cleared his throat, looked out into the sea of news cameras, squinting into the sun.

“
As you know, the two deceased victims have been identified as Kelsie McEvoy and Evan Rangel. What we know is that the vehicle, a 2001 Honda Civic, was struck from the rear by a Winnebago motorhome, a class C diesel model which requires no special license to drive it. Accident reconstructionists estimate that the Winnebago was traveling at a speed of sixty miles per hour. A lack of skid marks at the point of impact indicates that the driver of the Winnebago had not applied the brakes prior to impact. The Honda became lodged underneath the front wheels of the Winnebago. The Winnebago drove the Honda into the guardrail and came to rest with the front wheels on the roof of the Honda. The Honda’s fuel line was severed during the crash. We believe that a spark from the battery may have ignited the fire, which ultimately claimed the lives of the two victims. The driver of the Winnebago has not been located or identified.”

The reporters ambushed him with questions all at once.

“
Are there any leads as to identity of the driver of the Winnebago?”

“
Is it true that the Winnebago was rented by members of a college fraternity as part of a camping trip?”

“
Can you confirm reports that the victims were still alive when the fire began?”

Lieutenant Colonel Chee uncapped a bottle of Evian and took a sip. Shutters clicked as photojournalists from the
Arizona Republic
and the
Payson Roundup
captured images.

“
The placement of the bodies and the burn pattern inside of the car strongly indicate that the driver was moving while engulfed in flames. While the autopsies have not been completed, preliminary reports from the Gila County Medical Examiner’s Office suggest that the passenger, Evan Rangel, suffered a spinal injury on impact that would have rendered him unable to move.”

They fired off another round of questions the moment he paused.

“
Can you confirm the identity of the person who rented the Winnebago?”

“
Has any physical evidence been discovered that would lead to the identity of the driver?”

“
Is there evidence to suggest that alcohol was involved?”

Chee took another sip of water. “At this time, due to the condition of the vehicles, no physical evidence other than the bodies of the victims has been recovered. As far as the identity of the person who rented the Winnebago,” Chee looked down at the podium, glancing over his notes, “Desert Trek Recreation Rentals located in Gilbert has confirmed that a gentleman named Anton Mackey, a student at Arizona State University, signed the rental agreement and paid a deposit and rental fee with a credit card issued to Theta Phi Sigma, a fraternity at Arizona State. Mr. Mackey, as well as the members of the chapter, are represented by a lawyer and have been cooperative with our investigation.”