An Eye For Justice Read online

  Chapter 13

  People v Calver – Manhattan Supreme Court

  Day 2

  I watched Detective Daly as he settled himself into the witness box. Clean shaven, nice dark suit, solid and dependable, the perfect image for the jury. Stahl took him through the call out and first attendance at the crime scene. ‘And what did you find there?’

  ‘I found the victim on the bed, lying on her back, dead. The green silk tie was like a ligature around her neck. Her body was quite cold so I guessed she had been there for a while. The room was neat and tidy with no evidence of a disturbance,’ Daly said, calm and professional. He was an impressive witness and I could tell the jury liked him.

  ‘And what did that signify?’ Stahl asked. ‘The lack of disturbance.’

  ‘That she knew and trusted whoever killed her.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘We secured the room, and got the CSI’s in to do their work. Then we fanned out and started taking statements from witnesses in adjoining rooms. I went with the Manager O’Leary to look at the CCTV. He told me that the defendant was associated with the victim, that they had spent the evening together and about the call down from the victims room.’

  ‘Did you view the CCTV then?’

  ‘Yes I did. In fact, O’Leary had already pulled the tape. He showed me Calver going into the victims room at around 2.20 am, and coming out around 25 minutes later at 2.45 am. No one else visits the room, other than Calver.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I spoke on the phone to the captain and the DA’s office, and was told to question Calver immediately, arrest him and bring him in.’

  ‘You spoke to Calver?’

  ‘Yes I did. When he answered the door he seemed disoriented and had clearly been drinking. He volunteered that he had spent the evening with the victim and admitted he owned a green silk tie made by Drake’s of London, so I read him his rights and arrested him.’

  ‘Now, the jury will see the defendants taped interview, but in essence, what did he tell you when questioned?’

  ‘He denied murder, said he had no motive, but was at a loss to explain who else could have done it, then he essentially clammed up.’

  Stahl paused for a moment, looking down at his papers. I gazed around the courtroom, still full. Interest in the trial did not seem to have diminished. I scanned the jury. They still looked alert and engaged, but I noticed that they rarely looked at me. They were focused on Daly who sat calmly awaiting Stahl’s next question.

  ‘Now, detective, you obviously carried out background checks against the defendant?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. He’s not a resident here, he’s a citizen of the UK, so we contacted our counterparts over there.’

  ‘And what did you find?’

  Time to remind everyone I was still around. I rose to my feet. ‘Your honour, I apprehend that the District Attorney is about to call some inadmissible evidence.’

  Judge Gonzalez regarded me balefully. ‘Sidebar,’ she said. Stahl and I approached the bench as the judge muffled her mike so the jury wouldn’t hear our exchange. ‘What is it Mr. Calver?’

  I knew they were going to try and get in the incident with Carmen when I had put my hands around her neck, on the basis that it showed a propensity on my part to this kind of behaviour. I needed to keep it out because of the tendency of juries to say, oh he’s done it before, therefore he’s guilty of this crime. I knew they had federal rules on such evidence which most state courts adopted in various guises, saying you couldn’t call evidence of a defendants convictions and bad acts unless it came within an exception. ‘Your honour, the DA is about to call evidence about a load of unsubstantiated crap involving my wife and I in the UK. Its an alleged incident where I was never charged, the modus operandi is different, and quite clearly, the prejudicial effect of such evidence completely outweighs its probative value.’

  ‘Mr. Stahl?’

  ‘Your honour, around three months ago Mr. Calver attempted to strangle his wife and she called the police. The case is documented and only did not go ahead because he persuaded her not to proceed and— ’

  ‘Bullshit, she voluntarily withdrew the charges,’ I said

  ‘Mr. Calver,’ the judge said, icily. ‘I will not tolerate that kind of language in my courtroom. If I hear it again, you’re in contempt.’

  I knew I’d gone too far. Stahl’s Cheshire cat smile confirmed it. ‘I’m very sorry your honour. I’m on trial for my life, and that slipped out in the heat of the moment. Won’t happen again.’

  ‘Good. See that it doesn’t. I’m going to allow it. I’m satisfied this evidence will be valuable to the jury and that far outweighs any possible prejudice Mr Calver is likely to suffer. Now, lets move along,’ she said.

  I walked slowly back to the defense table, despondent. I needed to get a grip because Stahl was slaughtering me. He skipped back to his table, ready to throw his next grenade.

  ‘Detective, what did you discover about this defendant from your counterparts in the UK?’

  * * * *

  Pascal poked her head above the covers and checked the clock - it was nearly eleven. Then she noticed the cup sitting next to her on the bedside table, steam slowly rising from the rim. Someone had woken her bringing it in.

  She looked around. Hannah was long gone, presumably back on the witness stand in the Southern District Court, facing her demons. Pascal debated running for a shower but then noticed on the table next to her, the tablet Jeffreys had given her the previous evening. She picked her coffee up and took a sip, mind running over what Jeffreys had said during the brief interval in his poker game.

  She plumped her pillow up and switched the tablet on. It sprang to life with the appearance of the American flag, then a hand of poker cards, followed by a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, presumably Bob’s little joke. Then she was presented with two files on the desk top; one entitled “London/New York Faces”, and the other “Angel Titbits”. She clicked the latter, work could wait.

  There wasn’t much there. Some old press cuttings from the early 70’s detailing suspicious fires at rundown properties mostly owned by Angel Milken, with a lot of borderline libelous scuttlebutt about who was responsible. But there was also a formal report about an alleged rape. Pascal already knew about the fires. It was an open secret that in rundown 1970’s New York City, that was how Angel had built up what became K Corp’s property portfolio.

  But the alleged rape was something else. The report was just a few pages long but didn’t say who had prepared it or for what purpose. The prose was indicative of law enforcement, although which particular branch was a mystery.

  Essentially it was a succinct retelling of a rape allegation. In the early hours of August 8th 1988, Chantelle Bouvier had appeared at a Manhattan Police precinct in a disoriented and distressed state alleging that she had been drugged and raped by her employer, Angel Milken. Bouvier had been employed for five years in the penthouse suite at the top of the K Building in

  Water Street as a domestic maid. She alleged her employer had come to her live-in quarters late at night. She had offered him coffee because he seemed upset about something. She made the point he had never come there before, and unusually his wife was away visiting family on the west coast on that particular evening. He had declined coffee but had brought a part drunk bottle of wine with him which he had begged her to share with him. She didn’t really drink but felt under pressure to join him as she needed the job, and he seemed so down and out of character that she accepted a glass, but only had a few sips. She then alleged that during the night she woke up and he was raping her, but when pressed she couldn’t categorically say it wasn’t just a bad dream. During questioning she kept breaking down in tears and was incoherent and inconsistent in her testimony. She also alleged sodomy and oral rape and pointed to physical soreness, and a swollen lip.

  The officers listened but never suggested a medical examination. This was before the real advent of
DNA although the first conviction based upon it in the US had happened the previous year. It would however be a long time before it became a widely used forensic tool.

  Pascal stopped reading and took another sip of coffee. Back in the day police forces in the western world were extremely primitive when it came to sexual assault against women. It was before the touchy feely days of rape suites at police stations, rape counselors and victim liaison officers, so perhaps the reaction of New York’s finest wasn’t so surprising.

  She read on. Essentially the police didn’t believe Bouvier, or said they didn’t believe her. However, they were duty bound to file a report, and so a patrolman and detective were dispatched to K Tower. There they interviewed Angel Milken, who perhaps surprisingly already had his lawyer, Charles Browder III, presumably the father of his current lawyer, in attendance. Milken denied any sexual contact but admitted visiting the maids room to ask her about something, he forgot what. Milken and lawyer didn’t demur when the officers suggested looking over the maids room, they confirming they had her prior authority. On a perfunctory search they found no evidence of disarray or struggle, but they did find a large bag of heroin conveniently hidden in the pillowcase. The bag, on checking, had only Chantelle Bouvier’s fingerprints on it.

  Bob had appended a short coda to the report suggesting no charges were ever brought for the sexual assault, but Bouvier was charged with conspiracy to supply heroin, convicted and imprisoned.

  Pascal finished her coffee, hardly surprised by the outcome of the little story. Poor underprivileged employee takes on immensely wealthy and powerful employer and gets royally shafted, the story of life itself and certainly of modern America. She looked down at the tablet screen as a kind of little podcast materialized of Bob’s smiling face, saying, ‘good titbit, eh, Courtney? And that’s not all. I’m going to give you Bouvier’s current name and address in Brooklyn, on the off chance you might just want to speak to her,’ he said. ‘But, big but, I want you to start looking at the other file on the tablet, tout suit, as they say in France, capiche?’

  Pascal couldn’t help cracking a smile at Bob’s antics. She owed him. So she would have to help him out and have a look at the photos in the other file. But first, as Bob reeled off the info, she scribbled down Bouvier’s current name - Chantelle Lattifah - and her address in Brooklyn. Then the screen went blank.

  * * * *

  People v Calver - Manhattan Supreme Court

  I looked over at the jury; they were completely engaged now and anxious to hear what Daly was going to say about me. He looked down at his notes and then addressed them. ‘The Metropolitan Police in London told us that around three months ago, Carmen, that’s the defendants wife, made a complaint against her husband. The complaint was that he assaulted her, specifically, he placed his hands around her neck and attempted to strangle her.’

  ‘And detective, did they provide you with a copy of the recording of her call to the emergency services?’ Stahl asked, innocently.

  I hadn’t known about this. I rose to my feet. ‘Your honour, I’ve had no notice of this tape, and its admission is highly—’

  ‘Sit down, Mr Calver, I’ve already ruled,’ she said, barely acknowledging me.

  Stahl pressed play on his laptop. At first there was a faint sound of harsh, heavy breathing, then some snuffled sobs, then the dispatchers voice breaking in, saying, ‘what is your emergency please, caller?’ Then a pause, then Carmen’s frightened voice. ‘Please, help me, you have to come. My husband’s gone mad, he’s trying to kill me, strangle me.’ Then another brief pause before the dispatcher asked for her location, which Carmen gave her. Another pause, then Carmen again, pleading this time, almost whimpering, saying, ‘no, Jonas, please, no.’ Then she shouted ‘No,’ followed by a frightened scream.

  I wanted to kill Stahl for playing the tape. There was no hiding place for me there in that courtroom and I felt naked and demeaned. I’d never heard the tape before, couldn’t remember anything about it or even being there, but I still felt a burning hot shame rippling through me and I knew that the jury couldn’t fail to see it.

  Stahl prolonged my torture by allowing the tape to play on even though it was just background noise, then the caller telling Carmen to hold on, the police would be there within minutes, then the tape ended.

  Stahl turned back to Daly. ‘What did Carmen tell the police had happened that night?’

  Daly checked his notes again. ‘The defendant had been drinking heavily, and apparently that wasn’t unusual. They had gone to bed in the usual way. Later Carmen said the defendant had put his hands around her neck and started to squeeze. He seemed to be in a trance. She had violently struggled and screamed at him, and she almost passed out before he suddenly seemed to break out of the trance and pull his hands away. She had run down to the kitchen and called emergency. He followed her and, as we’ve heard, engaged with her again, grappling with her and taking the phone from her. Luckily by then the emergency services were already on their way. Apparently he then settled down and went and sat in a chair to await the police.’

  ‘Now, we know, for whatever reasons, in the end, the defendant wasn’t charged or prosecuted for this, but when he was questioned about the incident, what did he say?’ Stahl asked.

  ‘He didn’t expressly deny the allegation. He said he couldn’t remember anything.’

  ‘He didn’t expressly deny it,’ Stahl repeated slowly, so the jury would get the message.

  ‘That’s right.’

  Judge Gonzalez looked up at the clock, it was quarter to one. ‘Perhaps now might be a good time to break for lunch, back here in one hour,’ she said.

  I didn’t feel like eating.

  * * * *

  Southern District Court

  Day 5

  Morganna was thinking that if Browder would keep his mouth shut and Friedman would continue with a light touch, they could finish the early background stuff off quick and then get onto the real issues in the case.

  Lunch was over and Hannah was back in the witness box describing the arrival of the Nazi’s, her voice low and matter of fact but the jury could feel the tension in her as she recalled events.

  ‘The Germans arrived 16th May 1940 and of course it sticks in my mind. Rudi and I watched them enter the city at Merwedeplein. They came in an endless stream of trucks, tanks, horses and infantry, and from then on my life became hell, steadily worsening as each month went by.

  ‘I won’t bore the jury with day to day incidents, because as the judge says, they’re not really relevant, but a significant event that did take place was the riot that took place in Waterloo-Plein, which was the central part of Jodenhoek, when drunken out of control racist thugs from the Dutch Nazi party had arrived in the square with rifles. Rudi had got involved in the fighting and was injured, just a crack to his head but it bled terribly.

  ‘Next day, using the unrest as a pretext, the trucks and soldiers as well as Dutch Police had arrived in Jodenhoek and fences and barbed wire had gone up, and the bridges over the canals had been raised, cutting us off entirely from the rest of the city. Then the signs “Judenviertal” and “Joodsche Wijk” went up as well, sealing us in to what had just become a ghetto.

  ‘It was also at about this time that the first massive round-ups began and soon after, around February 1941 I believe, they arrived at our door with loud knocking and sounds of vehicles, shouts and dogs barking. We wouldn’t let them in so they broke the door down and immediately arrested Rudi, not for the fighting, but because he was on their list. A German Jew who had fled the Fatherland illegally, and all such persons were subject to arrest. I never saw him again, and I still hadn’t seen the mystery painting he’d smuggled out.’

  Hannah stopped abruptly there, looking dazed, as if she were waking from a dream. She shook her head as if to clear it. Morganna frowned, looking down at her notes, wondering how to phrase her next question.

  Chapter 14

  People v Calver – Manhattan Supreme Court


  I could feel the half digested ham sandwich lying in the pit of my stomach as the Stahl Daly double act turned its attention to the hotel’s CCTV. This was the footage from the corridor outside Helena’s hotel room on the night of the murder, and it was the centre of their case. We, being me, Pascal, Christoff and Morganna, had watched the tape over and over but were still coming up empty. We had no idea how they had done it.

  There was a strange kind of fascination in watching the pictures, as if they were of someone else, a phantom figure, which in some ways they were. First we saw Helena returning to her room, after leaving mine, at around 1 am, and it was clear that this was genuine un-doctored tape showing what had actually taken place.

  Later on as the tape rolled, Stahl got Daly to provide a running commentary to accompany the pictures.

  ‘This is the defendant in the bar at around 1.40 am, as described by Mr. O’Leary when he gave evidence earlier,’ Daly said, at Stahl’s prompting. ‘You will notice the distinctive green tie he is wearing, and that he is perhaps slightly the worse for wear,’ Daly added.

  I watched myself at the bar, bright green silk tie indelibly marking me out for the jury, my body swaying lightly to and fro, and if you looked very closely you could just about discern my glassy eyed stare and the goofy grin on my face. Then O’Leary is seen saying something to me, presumably the alleged call down from Helena, asking that I go up to her room.

  A few moments later I am seen making my way out of the bar to the lifts. CCTV then tracks my movements, via different cameras all the way to Helena’s room, where I can be seen pressing her buzzer. It seems to take around two minutes before Helena’s door opens and I enter. The time on the CCTV ticker tape says it is 2.20 am.

  Daly picks up the story again. ‘There is no further activity in the corridor for some 25 minutes.’ Daly pauses a beat whilst Stahl fiddles with the laptop to compress this period of time before continuing with the tape. ‘Until we see the defendant leave Helena Palmer’s room at 2.45 am.’