Sins of the Fathers (24 page)

“It was about nine fifteen.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s what it felt like to me. I also saw stories in the paper that said what the time was.”

“All right. May the witness approach the exhibit, Your Honor?”

“She may.”

“Now, Mrs. Kean, if you would please approach the chart. I am going to hand you a red marker and ask you to indicate with a letter
K
where you were standing at approximately nine fifteen.”

Mrs. Kean took the marker and put a red
K
near the home-plate symbol.

“Let the record reflect that the witness has put a
K
along what would be the first-base line.”

“So noted.”

“You may resume the stand, Mrs. Kean.”

She did.

“Where you indicated, Mrs. Kean, is that where the people watching the game sit?”

“Yes. Those are the stands.”

“I see. And were there other people in the stands?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know approximately how many?”

“I’d say about twenty or so. Mainly the parents of the kids.”

“Please describe for the court what took place at approximately nine fifteen on the morning of Saturday, June 26.”

Mrs. Kean took a long, labored breath. “I was watching our team hit. Jonathan was on deck. I think there was one out. All of a sudden I heard a gunshot.”

“Did you know it was a gunshot?”

“Not then. It was a loud cracking sound, and everybody looked over. And that’s when I saw him shooting.”

“Is the one you saw shooting seated in the courtroom today?”

Mrs. Kean looked directly at Darren DiCinni. “Yes.”

“Will you point to him, please?”

“Right there.” Mrs. Kean pointed.

The judge said, “Record will show the witness has identified the defendant.”

“You say you saw the defendant shooting. What was the weapon?”

“A rifle.”

“And when you saw the defendant, where was he in relation to where you were sitting?”

“He was coming toward first base.”

Colby pointed to the diagram. “That would be about here, Mrs. Kean?”

“Yes.”

“I am going to indicate with a black
D
on the exhibit the spot where the witness first saw the defendant.” Colby marked it. “So you had to look to the right to see the defendant?”

“Yes.”

“What else did you see at that time?”

“I saw that Ollie Jones was screaming something. He was looking down. And that’s when I saw one of the kids from the other team, facedown by first base. I saw red on his shirt. It was horrible.” A sob choked her voice.

Everyone in the courtroom seemed to freeze in a legal tableau; no one willing to be the one to disturb it.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Kean said.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” Colby said.

Mrs. Kean shook her head. “I’ll be all right.”

“Can you tell us what you saw next?”

“Next. There was all sorts of screaming and shooting and people running around. It was total chaos. I looked for my husband and Jonathan. Jerry had Jonathan in his arms. Jonathan wasn’t hurt. I ran to them and saw kids falling. Most of them were just scared, and they fell to protect themselves.”

“What else did you observe, if you can recall?”

“I saw a couple of grown-ups trying to pull Mr. Dorai from third base. I could see the red on his shirt. I could see . . .” Once more her voice trailed off.

“Just one more question, Mrs. Kean. Did you see the defendant after the shooting stopped?”

She nodded. “He was running, toward the sandbox area, where there’s swings and things. Two men chased him, and they caught up to him and tackled him.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kean.”

“Cross-examine,” Judge Weyer said to Lindy.

Lindy did not know what to ask the witness. All the judge wanted was some basis to establish the minimum level of cause to bind over Darren for trial. Mrs.Kean was no doubt only one of several witnesses Colby had lined up. All would say essentially the same thing.

Normally, if identity was in question, Lindy would be able to focus on that issue. But everyone knew Darren DiCinni was the shooter, so challenging that fact would be pointless.

Still, something about the account bothered Lindy. She wasn’t sure what it was. But she could ask a few questions and maybe figure it out as she went along.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kean.”

The witness did not answer, but gave a curt nod.

“I’d like to ask you just a few questions. I know this has been difficult. When you heard the first shot, which you described as a crack, were you looking at the field, at the game?”

“Yes.”

“And the sound of the shot caused you to look to the right?”

“Yes.”

“Which is when you saw my client with a rifle?”

“That’s right.”

“Was he aiming the rifle? Was it in shooting position?”

Mrs. Kean thought a moment. “Yes, it was.”

“Could you tell where he was aiming?”

“Toward the field.”

“Can you remember a direction?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I’m trying to determine if you got the impression that my client was shooting randomly.”

“Oh yes.”

“You stated he was near one of the adults, a Mr. . . .” Lindy looked at her notes.

“Jones,” Mrs. Kean said. “Ollie Jones, one of our coaches.”

“Did Mr. Jones try to apprehend Darren?”

A momentary look of confusion came to Mrs. Kean’s face, then she said, “I don’t remember. I was looking for Jonathan.”

“I see. Did you get a look at my client’s face?”

“Briefly.”

“A profile view?”

“Yes.”

“And you said he was aiming the rifle.”

“I said it was in a shooting position.”

“All right. Which means his face was along the butt of the rifle.”

“I guess so.”

“Don’t guess, Mrs. Kean, if you can—”

“He was shooting children! You expect me to be clear about anything that was happening?”

Lindy paused and could almost detect Leon Colby’s head pop behind her. The witness had inadvertently called into question the accuracy of all her observations. Lindy let the answer linger in the air over the judge’s head.

Finally, Lindy said, “Is it fair to say, then, that you did not get a full look at Darren’s face?”

“Whatever,” Mrs. Kean said with a note of disgust.

“Please answer yes or no,” Lindy said.

The witness looked at the judge, as if to plea for relief. “Please answer the question in that fashion, Mrs. Kean.”

“All right,” she snapped. “No.”

“So you could not tell what his expression was, whether he looked crazed or out of it or—”

“Objection.” Colby’s voice rang out. “That’s an argumentative question, loaded with buzzwords for the court.”

“Thank you, Mr. Colby. The court can sort out words that buzz. Sustain the objection.”

“I have no further questions,” Lindy said.

4.

“Please state your name for the record,” the clerk said.

“Oliver Monroe Jones.”

Leon Colby stood at the podium. “Good morning, Mr. Jones.”

“Good morning, sir.”

Oliver Jones looked like a man you could trust. He was one of those witnesses, Lindy thought immediately, that a jury would warm to.A straight shooter with no ax to grind. No wonder Colby picked him as a witness. He was showing her just how strong his case would be in front of a jury.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Jones?”

“I’m an electrician.”

“And you live and work in West Hills?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Jones, you have a son, is that correct?”

“Yes. Jeremiah. He’s eleven.”

“And he is on a park-league baseball team?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are a coach for the team?”

“I help the coach, Mr. Young.”

“Directing your attention to the morning of June 26, were you and your son at a baseball game at Capistrano Park?”

“Yes.”

“The name of the team?”

“We’re the Royals.”

“What time did you arrive at the park?”

“About eight. I helped Ed set up the field.”

“Ed is?”

“Edward Young, the coach.”

“And what time did the game begin?”

“Close to nine o’clock, I believe, sir.”

“All right. What was your assignment with the team?”

“First-base coach.”

“I am going to ask you to approach People’s Exhibit One, and place a letter
J
with a marker at the position you were in as first-base coach during the game.”

Jones got up and went to Colby’s diagram and wrote a
J
on it near the first-base line. He sat in the witness chair again.

“Now, Mr. Jones, please describe the events that took place during the early portion of the game.”

Jones’s warm expression dropped several degrees. His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked into a bad memory.

“I was coaching first base. We had a boy on first, Nick Marosi. I was looking at home plate, getting ready for the next batter. Then I heard something like a loud . . .
crack
. It scared me. I turned around and saw this kid with a big rifle. And he was aiming it. I couldn’t believe it.”

“The boy with the rifle, do you see him in court today?”

Jones pointed to Darren. “He is right there at that table.”

“Record will reflect the witness has identified the defendant,” Judge Weyer said.

“What happened next?” Colby asked.

“It was like everything stopped for a second. No sounds or movement or anything like that. And then the kid, the defendant, he fires another shot. And then turns and fires another one, only this one is right past . . .”

The witness stopped, his mouth open. He seemed to fight for a breath. And then his eyes filled with tears.

The judge motioned for Colby, who went to the bench. She handed him a box of tissues. Colby handed them to Jones, saying, “Take your time,Mr. Jones. If we need to take a break, we will.”

Jones shook his head, dabbed his eyes with the tissue. “I’m sorry.

I don’t need to stop.”

“Just take a moment, sir, and then continue.”

Jones regained his composure, then said, “I turned around to the field, because everybody was screaming. And then I saw Nicky. He . . . he . . . there was blood. He was on the ground and crying and . . .”

Oliver M. Jones was not able to continue. He put his face in his hands and cried. The judge called for a fifteen-minute recess.

Lindy went cold. Jones’s tears were a more powerful testimony than any words to the horror he witnessed. She turned to Darren. He was staring forward like a zombie.

Lindy put her hand on his arm. It startled him, like he had been suddenly awakened.

A deputy came to take Darren to the lockup for the duration of the recess.

5.

“Mrs. Romney?”

Mona turned around in the court hallway. “Yes?”

“My name is Sean McIntyre.”

“Yes, I recognize you from TV.”

“Not too much of a disappointment, I hope.” He smiled. A handsome man with energy pouring out of him.

“Not at all.” Mona felt at ease with him, yet cautious. He was a reporter after all.

“I was wondering . . .” McIntyre said, “I know this is all terribly difficult for you. But I was wondering if I might get a reaction from you after the hearing today. Just some of your thoughts, whatever they are.”

“For TV?”

“Maybe. If you like the way it turns out. I don’t want to push anything on you.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. McIntyre.”

“Sean. Please.”

6.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones.”

The witness only slightly nodded his head at Lindy. He looked tired and slightly afraid. Lindy wanted to tell him she wouldn’t bite. But he probably wouldn’t have believed her.

“I know how difficult this has been for you,” Lindy said. “But I—”

“You don’t know,” Oliver Jones said.“You weren’t there. You can’t possibly know how—”

“Mr. Jones,” Judge Weyer said softly, “I am going to have to ask you to allow Ms. Field to ask you questions, and you answer them. Nothing more. I’ll make sure Ms. Field follows proper procedure. All right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jones said. “I’m sorry.”