their interest was entirely on Jeremy Dawson. Because Dirkson had sold them on the concept, and human nature being what it was, they couldn’t help being fascinated.
They were looking at a murderer.
Steve knew he should do something. Break the mood. Try to win the jury back. But in the light of Dirkson’s overwhelming argument, for the moment he couldn’t think of anything to say. And he knew better than to flounder around, to do something inadequate or ineffectual. Better to let it go.
He smiled confidently, and, as if it had been his plan all along, said, smoothly, “We will reserve our opening argument until we begin putting on our case, Your Honor.”
Judge Grimes nodded. “Very well. Mr. Dirkson. You may proceed. Call you first witness.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Dirkson rose. He glanced down at the papers on the prosecution table, as if looking for the name of the witness, though actually he knew perfectly well who he wished to call. As he did, he turned and looked over at the defense table. Steve Winslow was, of course, looking at him, and their eyes met. When they did, Dirkson smiled, a smug winner’s smile.
There was no mistaking the meaning of Dirkson’s look.
“Gotcha,” was what it said.
30
For his first witness,Dirkson called Maria Martez, who cited six years’ experience as an officer for the transit police.
“Now, Officer Martez,” Dirkson said. “On the night of February 26th, between the hours of ten and eleven, could you tell us where you were stationed?”
“Yes, sir. I was patrolling the uptown Number Two express on the Broadway line.”
“Did you observe anything out of the ordinary at that time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Could you tell us when and where this happened and what it was?”
“Yes. I was riding uptown on the Number Two train. We went through the 66th Street Station. That’s not an express stop, so the train doesn’t even slow down. Well, actually, it slows down a little, because the track curves right after that. You know, there’s that big curve between there and the station at 72nd. Which
“Anyway, going through the station-I was standing in the car on patrol. And out the window I saw what looked like a fire in the station.”
“Where in the station?”
“On the uptown side. The extreme north end of the platform.”
“And what did you see?”
“A fire.”
“And what can you tell us about the fire?”
“Not much. I saw flames and that’s all. You gotta understand. This is the far end of the station. The very end of the platform. After the train passes that, it goes right into the tunnel on the way up to 72nd Street. See what I’m saying? If the fire had been in the middle of the station, I could have looked back down the platform and watched it as we went by. But this was the very end of the platform. I see it, and the next second we’re by it and into the tunnel. So when I look back, I can’t see a thing.”
“I understand. But in that short amount of time, just what did you see?”
“I saw fire on the platform. That’s all I could tell.”
“Let me ask you this. Did you see any people on the platform?”
“No, I did not. And I don’t think there were. ’Cause if there had been, they’d have seen the fire and reported it, and nobody did, and-”
Judge Grimes held up his hand. “One minute.” He looked down at the defense table. “Mr. Winslow, you’re not objecting here.”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Yet this witness is testifying to opinions, surmises and conclusions which she has drawn that are obviously based on hearsay testimony.”
“I understand, Your Honor. But this officer strikes me as a competent and honest witness, and her opinions seem sound, logical and reasonable to me. I find it hard to object to something I agree with.”
Judge Grimes frowned. “Well, the court will interpose an objection for you. I don’t intend to have the record cluttered up with testimony of this type.” To the court reporter he said, “Leave in where she said she didn’t recall seeing anyone in the station. Everything after that can go out.” He looked up again. “Proceed, Mr. Dirkson.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Officer Martez, what did you do then?”
“I left the train at 72nd Street, called the token clerk at 66th, and called the police and the fire departments.”
“What did you do then?”
“Took the local back down to 66th.”
“And when you got there, what did you observe?”
“The police and fire departments had already arrived.”
Dirkson smiled. “Thank you. No further questions.”
Steve Winslow did not cross-examine.
For his next witness, Dirkson called Leon Dokes, who testified to being one of four firemen who responded to a report of a fire in the 66th Street Station.
“And when you got there,” Dirkson said, “what did you see?”
“There was a fire going on the north end of the uptown platform.”
“How big a fire?”
“Not that big. Perhaps the size of a small bonfire. But it was burning steadily. And the flames were high.”
“Was there anyone there at the time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who was that?”
“Two radio patrol officers who had already responded to the call.”
“Were the officers attempting to put out the fire?”
“No, sir. They are not equipped to do so, and that’s not their job.”
“So what were they doing?”
“Blocking off that area of the platform and making sure no one got too close.”
“You say making sure no one got too close-then there were other people in the station?”
“Yes, sir. There were about a half a dozen passengers there waiting for the train.”
“And the police were keeping them away from the fire?”
“That’s right.”
“I see. And what did you do then?”
“The four of us proceeded to put out the fire.”
“And how did you do that?”
“With the portable extinguishers we wear on our backs.”
“You were able to do so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You had no particular problems putting out the fire?”
“No, sir.”
“How long did it take you to do so?”
“Not long. Two, three minutes.”
“Fine,” Dirkson said. “Now, let me ask you this. Could you tell what it was that was burning?”
