Without a Hitch (29 page)
Beckett and
Pierce sat on one side of Judge Sutherlin’s desk. Sutherlin and his clerk sat
on the other. Corbin and Morales sat together against the wall. Beaumont,
wearing a pimpish purple suit, sat next to Beckett. His wrists and ankles were
shackled. The bailiff stood nearby with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt.
Beckett had voiced extreme displeasure at Beaumont’s suit, but he had too much
else to deal with, so he let the matter drop.
“All right,
counselors, I’ve got some rulings for you,” Sutherlin said in his businesslike
manner. His white shirt and red tie stuck out just above the short collar of
his black robe. “Your request to bring a witness to testify that he
did not
see Mr. Beaumont at the mailbox location is denied as that’s not relevant.”
“Why ain’t that
relevant?” Beaumont demanded.
Sutherlin looked
up from his notes. “Counselor,” he warned Beckett, who put his hand on
Beaumont’s arm to quiet him. Sutherlin continued: “Your request to show the
entire video from either bank also is denied. Again, that’s not relevant.
Obviously, I will grant your motion that Mr. Beaumont not be shackled in the
presence of the jury, but instruct your client he is not to leave the defense
table without my permission or I will order the bailiff to subdue him. Do you
understand, Mr. Beckett?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Is there
anything else we need to decide before we get started?” Sutherlin asked.
“Our motion to
dismiss remains outstanding,” Beckett stated.
“I’m still
considering that one,” Sutherlin said gruffly.
“Your Honor,”
Pierce interjected, “I noticed the defense has a number of people on the
witness list whom I can’t imagine are relevant to this proceeding. I’d like a
summary of their testimony or else I’m going to move to exclude them.” Pierce
handed the list to Sutherlin and pointed to several names he had circled.
“You’re not
entitled to a summary,” Beckett responded.
“Who are these
people, Mr. Beckett?” Sutherlin asked.
“They’re here to
refute any allegations of prior crimes.”
“I see,”
Sutherlin said, eyeing the list. “I’ll make my rulings as they’re called.”
Sutherlin picked up a stack of papers. “I’ve got proposed jury instructions
from both parties. I’ll make my ruling on those tomorrow, and you’ll receive
a written copy of the instructions I intend to give
before we begin tomorrow. That should give both of you time to lodge any
objections you may have.” Sutherlin looked at his watch. “They should be
ready in the courtroom. If there’s nothing else, let’s pick a jury.”
The courtroom,
like so many other courtrooms, overwhelmed people when they first entered and
always caused them to speak in hushed tones. The judge’s bench dominated the
front of the room and caused everyone to look up at the judge. To the judge’s
left sat the witness box and then the jury box. Before the judge sat the court
reporter and before the court reporter stood the podium where the attorneys
would address the jury and the witnesses. The podium stood at an angle,
pointed at the witness box. Court rules did not allow the attorneys to leave
the podium without permission. The defense table and the prosecution table
stood side-by-side, parallel to the judge’s bench, just after the podium. The
defense table stood closer to the jury box, which ran perpendicular to the
defense table and the judge’s bench. A small walkway was left between the jury
box and the defense table and witness box so witnesses could get to the witness
box to testify. Both the jury box and the witness box were elevated and were
surrounded by three-foot-high wooden walls. The jury box contained two rows of
eight chairs, with the back row elevated higher than the front row. Behind the
prosecution and defense tables, another three-foot-high wooden wall ran the
length of the room. A gate in the middle of that wall led to an aisle which
ran to the main entrance, which consisted of two enormous doors approximately
ten feet in height. To either side of the aisle were several row of wooden
pews. All the wood was strong, dark mahogany, and hovering above everything, a
decorative tin ceiling made the room feel cathedral-like.
The courtroom
was empty as the group entered through the judge’s door behind the bench. Corbin,
Beckett and Beaumont made their way to the defense table, where one of the
three uniformed bailiffs unshackled Beaumont’s ankles and then his wrists.
Unlike Beaumont’s purple pimp suit, Corbin wore a conservative dark-olive suit
and a red tie over a white shirt. Beckett wore his dated gray suit, with the
too-narrow lapels, a blue and silver striped tie, and a white dress shirt.
Both his suit and shirt had been cleaned and pressed, but no amount of cleaning
could hide their age. Neither Corbin nor Beckett gave any visible signs of
being nervous.
Pierce wasn’t
nervous either. Courtrooms were his natural environment and he was all
smiles. Morales, however, was nervous, and it showed. She kept tapping her
pen furiously against her notepad and looking over her shoulder whenever anyone
entered the room. She also kept smoothing out the sleeves and pants of her
deep-red suit. Beckett watched her.
Once Beaumont
was seated, the clerk allowed the gathering crowd of about fifty people to
enter the back of the courtroom. Many of these were potential jurors. Others
were witnesses, reporters, and a few people who came to watch. Whenever a
trial gets significant local media coverage, curious members of the public
always show up.
As Judge
Sutherlin entered the courtroom, the bailiff ordered everyone to rise. “Be
seated,” Sutherlin commanded in his strong, compelling voice.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We are dealing
with the People versus Washington Beaumont. Those of you who were summoned as
witnesses, I ask you to now follow the bailiff at the back of the room. He
will take you across the hall where you can wait until you’re called.”
Several people
left the courtroom.
“Those of you
from the media, I remind you that I do not allow cameras or other recording
equipment in my courtroom.” Several audible clicks followed. “If you were
called as a potential juror, here’s what’s going to happen. My clerk will start
calling names at random. As she calls your name, come sit in the jury box. If
you are not called, then you should return downstairs to the court clerk’s
office as they may need you for another trial. When the box is full, the
attorneys will ask you some questions. If the answer is ‘yes’ to any of their
questions, raise your hand and keep your hand up until we get to you. If you
are dismissed, then return to the clerk’s office.” Sutherlin motioned to his clerk.
“Let’s get started.”
It took an hour
to pick the jury: two women and four men. Each of the potential jurors had
heard about the case on the news, but each also claimed not to have made up
their mind about Beaumont’s guilt, which was enough to keep them from being
struck for cause. The judge did dismiss two potential jurors who had been
victims of identity theft and one woman who admitted believing that the police
“wouldn’t arrest anyone who wasn’t guilty of something.” He refused to strike
a man who said he didn’t trust the police, because the man also said he would
listen fairly to individual police officers; Pierce eventually struck him with
one of his three peremptory strikes. Pierce also struck a young construction
worker and a Catholic priest. Beckett intended to strike the construction
worker, but was fortunate Pierce struck him first. That left Beckett free to
strike someone else. He eventually struck a librarian, the wife of a retired
policeman, and a car salesman who planned to run for the state senate. The
remaining six jurors and one alternate seemed rather bland and their backgrounds
gave no hint how they might vote.
With the jury
chosen, opening statements began. Eddie Pierce made his way to the podium,
keeping his right hand in the pocket of his charcoal-gray pants. His left hand
held his notepad. His blue and gold tie contrasted nicely against his starched
white shirt and dark suit. A gold ring with a square-cut diamond was visible
on his pinky. When he reached the podium, he set down his notes and pulled a pen
from his shirt pocket. He flipped the page in his notepad before turning his
eyes toward the jury. A smile was fixed on his face.
“Ladies and
gentlemen, my name is Eddie Pierce. I’m the District Attorney. Sitting behind
me is Assistant District Attorney Hillary Morales. On behalf of the people of
the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I thank you for being here today. Being a
juror is a civic duty that goes back all the way to ancient Rome, if not
further. Today, you become part of that history. There is nothing more
important to our way of life than the service you are about to give. You are
the eyes and ears of the people. You watch over the system to make sure the
guilty are punished, that victims receive justice, and that our society remains
free and safe. You are the guardians for us all.”
Pierce exhaled
melodramatically.
“We’re here
today because a horrible crime has been committed, a crime you will hear about
over the next couple days. This crime involves an invasion of privacy. This crime
disrupted numerous lives and will continue to disrupt lives for years to come.
This crime hurt us all. Even those of us who were not victimized directly still
pay in insecurity and in the extra costs charged to make up for what crimes
like this steal from hard-working people. The crime we are talking about is
identity theft and fraud.” Pierce pointed at Beaumont. “Sitting to my right is
Mr. Washington Davis Beaumont. Mr. Beaumont committed the crime you are here
to judge.”
Each member of
the jury looked at Beaumont. They showed no emotion.
“Mr. Beaumont
stole the identities of fifty-three people. Using those identities, he stole
$2.2 million, and he left those fifty-three people. . . and the rest of us, to
pick up the tab.”
Pierce shuffled
his notes.
“So how do we
know Mr. Beaumont is guilty? That’s always the question for the state. How do
you show a man is guilty of a crime of which he stands accused? In this case,
Mr. Beaumont made it easy. Mr. Beaumont laid it all out for us to follow. You
will hear about his arrest from Sgt. Warner Russell, a fifteen year veteran of
the department, and his partner, rookie Officer Paul Webb. You’ll hear Officer
Webb describe how he searched the nightstand next to Mr. Beaumont after the
arrest. You’ll hear how Officer Webb found stacks of documents, documents you
will see. These documents belong to the credit card accounts and bank accounts
Mr. Beaumont stole. That’s been stipulated to; the defense isn’t even trying
to deny that evidence!”
Pierce let his
words sink in before continuing.
“You’ll hear
from Maggie Smith, a bank manager, who unknowingly helped Mr. Beaumont set up a
fake bank account at Penn Bancorp. You’ll hear from Natasha Freet, a teller,
who can place Beaumont at First Regional Bank, where he opened another fake
account. And you’ll hear from Dr. Ben Trainder, a handwriting expert, who will
tell you that Mr. Beaumont’s signature appears all over the documents used to
open these accounts.”
Pierce folded
his arms and stepped back from the podium. The jury remained motionless, but
were attentive. Some looked down, but most followed Pierce with their eyes.
The young woman on the end kept sneaking peeks at Beaumont.
“The defense will
tell you, ‘this is a victimless crime, nobody got hurt’. . . garbage! Sgt.
Russell will sit in that very chair,” Pierce pointed to the empty witness box,
“and tell you how he disarmed Mr. Beaumont when he arrested him. Mr. Beaumont
had a gun, ladies and gentlemen, a gun! Why did he have a gun? We don’t know.
We don’t know what he planned to do if he hadn’t been stopped. But it doesn’t
matter, because you don’t need to decide that. Possession of a firearm is a
serious crime in this city, no matter what he planned to do with it. . . but it
makes you wonder.”
Pierce returned to
the podium and jammed his right hand back into his pocket. He tapped the index
finger of his left hand against his lips.
“There’s more to
cover, but I think we’ve said enough for now. The facts of this case are
straight forward, no matter what the defense may tell you.” He paused. “And
if it sounds like I’m blaming them, I’m not. It’s their job to create as much
confusion as possible, to try to create doubt where none exists. But it’s your
duty to focus on the facts, just the cold hard facts. When you do, you will
understand why Mr. Beaumont sits before you today. Thank you for your time.”
Pierce grabbed his notes and returned to his seat.
Sutherlin looked
at Beckett. “You’re up, Counselor.”
“Thank you, Your
Honor.” Beckett walked to the podium. Unlike Pierce, Beckett appeared rather
disheveled, with his old suit, his unkempt hair, and his notepad from which
dozens of colored stickies stuck out on either side. Interestingly however, all
of this, combined with the more sincere-sounding emotion in Beckett’s voice,
gave the impression of earnestness, rather than disarray, though it was a fine
line.
“‘Focus on the
facts, the cold hard facts.’ That’s exactly right. And what will you see if
you focus on those facts? You’ll see a house of cards, ladies and gentlemen.
You’ll see a prosecution case built on innuendo and suggestion rather than
fact.”
Beckett paused.
“The prosecutors
want you to believe Beaumont stole $2.2 million. Yet they can’t show any
evidence that Beaumont, a man living in a run down tenement on the Southside,
ever had that kind of money. Indeed, there’s no evidence he ever had any
money.” Beckett called him “Beaumont” without the “Mr.” honorific to humanize
him. He normally would have called him by his first name, but Beaumont
objected to being called “Washington.”