“No, sir.”
“And why was that?”
“As I said, the flames were high. That made it hard to see what they were consuming. There was a small mound on the platform, and that’s what was burning. That was the best we could tell.”
“Before you extinguished the fire?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And after you extinguished it?”
“Then I looked closer, and was able to distinguish that what had been burning was the body of a man.”
“A man?”
“That’s right.”
“What did you do then?”
“Alerted the police officers and told them to phone for an EMS unit.”
“Emergency Medical Service?”
“That’s right.”
“Were you there when the EMS unit arrived?”
“Yes, I was.”
“When was that?”
“Approximately ten minutes later.”
Dirkson nodded. “Thank you. That’s all.”
Again, Steve Winslow declined to cross-examine.
Next, Dirkson called Phil Kestin of the Emergency Medical Service unit, who testified to responding to the call from the 66th Street Station.
“And what time was it when you arrived?” Dirkson asked.
“Approximately 10:55.”
“And what did you find when you arrived?”
“The police and fire departments were already on the scene. The section of the platform had been cordoned off.”
“What section was that?”
“The north end of the uptown platform.”
“And what did you find there?”
“I found the body of a man.”
“Was he alive?”
“He was not.”
“The man was dead?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know he was dead?”
“I examined him.”
“You yourself?”
“That’s right.”
“How did you make that determination? You felt for a pulse and there was none?”
The witness hesitated, frowned, said, “I determined that there was no heartbeat. But in response to your question, I think I have to explain my answer.”
“Certainly,” Dirkson said. “Please explain to the jury in your own words, how you determined the man was dead.”
The medic turned to the jury. He was a young man, with a boyish, open face. His manner radiated sincerity. From Dirkson’s point of view, he was a good witness.
“What you have to understand,” he said, “is the extent of the injuries. The body had been badly burned. It had not just been burned. It had been charred. It was barely recognizable as that of a human being. So to feel for a pulse under those circumstances-well, the question is not really applicable. I determined that there was no heartbeat. I determined that there was no breath. I determined that there was no life. But frankly, one look was enough to see that there couldn’t have been.”
It was effective. Steve Winslow watched the faces of the jurors as the young medic spoke, and he could see that they were shocked and moved as they drank in the horror of the scene.
Dirkson prolonged the effect by pausing a moment before asking, “And did you take the body to the hospital?”
“No, I did not.”
“Why not? Because you’d already determined the man was dead?”
“No, sir. I didn’t have to make that decision.”
“Why not?”
“Because the medical examiner arrived and took over.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Judge Grimes said, “Mr. Winslow?”
“No questions, Your Honor.”
Jeremy Dawson tugged at Steve Winslow’s arm. “Hey man,” he hissed, “aren’t you gonna do anything?”
“Not till it’ll do some good.”
“But-”
“Shhh.”
Dirkson called Robert Oliver of the Crime Scene Unit to the stand. Officer Oliver testified to arriving at the 66th Street Station and processing the crime scene for evidence, which consisted largely of taking pictures.
“And do you have those photographs in court?” Dirkson asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“Would you produce them please?”
“Certainly,” the witness said. He reached in his briefcase and pulled out a file folder of eight-by-ten photographs.
“Object to the pictures,” Jeremy hissed.
“Why?” Steve whispered back.
“They’re gonna piss off the jury.”
“That they are.”
“So object to them.”
“I can’t. They’re legal evidence. They’re admissible.”
“Can’t you even try?”
Steve took a breath. “Look,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “The pictures won’t do you half as much harm as you’re doing yourself by constantly grabbing me by the sleeve and looking like your world just collapsed. Now sit back and shut up. The bottom line is, if we act like we’re afraid to let the jury see those pictures, you might as well change your plea to guilty right now.”
Jeremy glared at Steve, but subsided in his seat.
Judge Grimes, noting the byplay between them, said, “Did Counsel hear the question? The prosecutor has asked that these pictures be marked for identification.”
“May I see them, Your Honor?”
“Certainly,” Dirkson said. He took the pictures, passed them over.
Steve leafed through them. They were truly gruesome. Jeremy, looking at them over Steve’s shoulder, seemed about to say something, but managed to sit still.
Steve handed the pictures back. “No objection, Your Honor. And if the witness will testify that these are indeed the pictures he took, I will stipulate that they may be received in evidence.”
“Very well,” Judge Grimes said. “The photographs may be considered in evidence as People’s Exhibits One A through- what have you got there?” he asked the court reporter, who was marking the photographs.
“One minute,” the court reporter said. “That would be A through K.”
“Fine,” Judge Grimes said. The pictures are now in evidence as People’s Exhibits One A through K.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “With the court’s permission, I would like to show the exhibits to the
