INSPECTOR CONKLIN,” Davis said, smiling. “You sound like a very smart police officer.
Yuki tensed. She could almost see Davis setting the trap, baiting it, tying the trap to a tree. Conklin just looked at Davis until she spoke again.
Isn’t it true that from the beginning, the defendant denied that she’d ever met Michael Campion
Yes, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a suspect is going to say they didn’t do it.
You’ve interviewed a hundred homicide suspects
Figure of speech,” Conklin said. “I don’t know how many homicide suspects I’ve interviewed. Quite a few.
I see,” Davis said. “Is it a figure of speech to say that you and Sergeant Boxer tricked and bullied my client until she confessed
Objection!” Yuki called out from her seat.
Sustained.
I’ll rephrase. As we all know, Ms. Moon’s ‘confession,’ ” Davis said, making the universal symbol for quote marks with the first two fingers of each hand, “wasn’t on tape, isn’t that right
That’s right.
So we don’t know the tenor of that interview, do we
I guess you just have to trust me,” Conklin said.
Davis smiled, wound up for the pitch. “Inspector, did you take notes of Ms. Moon’s statement
Yes.
I asked to see those notes during discovery,” Davis said, “but I was told you no longer had them.
Conklin’s cheeks colored. “That’s right.
I want to make sure I understand what you’re telling us, Inspector,” Davis said in the snotty tone she’d perfected over decades and was using now in an attempt to undermine and humiliate Conklin.
You were investigating a probable murder. As you told us, Ms. Moon was your primary witness, or maybe a suspect. You had no taped record, so you made a written record. That was so you could tell the court and the jury what the defendant said, right? And then you threw the notes away - can you tell us why
I used my notes as the basis for my report. Once my report was typed, I didn’t need them anymore.
No? But what’s a better record of that interview? The notes you took that night? Or the report you filled out a couple of days later? You’re supposed to keep those notes, aren’t you, Inspector? . . . Inspector
Your Honor, please direct the witness to answer my question.
Yuki clenched her fists under the table. She hadn’t known Conklin had destroyed his notes, but while it wasn’t kosher, homicide cops did it all the time.
Judge Bendinger shifted in his seat, asked Conklin to answer the question.
Reluctantly, Conklin said, “My notes would be more of a verbatim account, but
But still, you felt it was appropriate to throw them out? Is there a shortage of storage space at the Hall of Justice? Were the file cabinets full, maybe
That’s ridiculous.
It is, isn’t it?” Davis asked, letting the question hang in the dead silence of the courtroom.
Do you remember where you threw the notes? In the garbage perhaps, or out your car window? Maybe you flushed them down the toilet
Your Honor,” Yuki said. “Defense counsel is badgering the witness
Overruled. The witness may answer,” said Judge Bendinger.
I shredded them,” Conklin said, the cords in his neck straining against the white collar of his shirt.
Please tell the jury why you shredded your notes.
Yuki saw the flash in Conklin’s eye but was helpless to stop him from snapping, “The reason we get rid of our notes is so that shyster lawyers like you don’t twist things around
Yuki stared at Conklin. She’d never seen him blow up before. Davis had manipulated him, and she was going to nail him to the wall.
Inspector Conklin, is that how you behaved when you interviewed my client? Lose your temper like that
Objection, Your Honor,” Yuki called out.
On what grounds
Defense counsel is objectionable.
Bendinger was unable to stifle a laugh. “Overruled. Watch it, Ms. Castellano.
Davis smiled, faced Conklin, one hand on her hip. “Only one more question, Inspector. Any other important evidence you shredded that would have exonerated my client
