“Yes.”
“Now, you testified that the car you saw was a beige 1991 Mercedes-Benz, model 300 SEL, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know that?”
Ortiz looked perplexed.
“How do I know…?”
“The model and year and color?”
“That’s the car Mr. Stafford drives.”
“Yes. But did you know the year and model and color on the night of the murder?”
“I…The color was beige. I could see that.”
“And the year and model?”
Ortiz paused.
“No. I only knew it was a beige Mercedes on that night.”
“So it could have been an ’89 or an ’85 Mercedes?”
“I later saw Mr. Stafford’s car and it was the same one.”
“Do you know what a 1989 Mercedes looks like?”
“No.”
“Or an ’85?”
“No.”
“The only time you saw the killer’s face was just before you passed out, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you and where was he, when you saw his face?”
“I was lying on my back on the floor looking up, and Mr. Stafford…”
“Your Honor, I move to strike that response,” David said. “He’s saying it was Mr. Stafford. That’s a conclusion a jury or judge will have to draw.”
“Oh, let him go on, Mr. Nash. I’ve been around.”
Judge Autley turned to Officer Ortiz and smiled. David didn’t like that. It was rare that anyone was graced with an Autley smile, and if the judge was bestowing one on Ortiz, that didn’t bode well.
“Just say ‘suspect,’ Officer, and Mr. Nash won’t get all bent out of shape.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Ortiz said. “I was lying on my back on the floor, my head was against the bed, and the suspect was standing in the doorway.”
“Could you step down to the easel and draw a picture for us?”
Ortiz turned to the judge and the judge nodded. There was an easel with drawing paper and felt-tipped colored pens propped against the wall. Ortiz pulled the easel closer to the witness stand and picked up a black pen.
“This would be the doorway,” he said, tracing a rectangle on the paper. “I was here, against the bed.” He drew a stick-figure bed and a stick-figure man. The man’s head rested against a leg of the bed with its eyes facing the door.
“The door was open. It opened inward and it was half-open, about where I’d kicked it. I guess it must have swung back a ways. He was standing at the door frame, leaning into the room.”
“How far in?”
“Not much. I think his body was at a slight angle, and his right leg and arm were outside the door, but the left leg and his left arm were inside the room a bit.”
“And where was his head?”
“Leaning down toward me. Looking at me.”
“You are certain?”
Ortiz looked directly at David. Then he looked at Larry Stafford.
“I will never forget that face.”
David made some notes, then directed Ortiz back to the stand.
“Were you seriously injured?”
“I was in Good Samaritan Hospital for a day or so.”
“What hospital?”
“Good Samaritan.”
“How long did you view the killer’s face?”
“I don’t know.”
“A long time?”
“No.”
“How long did the man stand there?”
“A few seconds. Then he bolted.”
“So you saw him for a few seconds?”
“Yes.”
“Less than a minute?”
“Maybe five, ten seconds. But I saw him.”
David consulted his notes. He looked at the judge.
“Nothing further, Your Honor.”
Judge Autley looked at Monica Powers.
“Any further witnesses?”
“No, Your Honor. The State feels that it has met the standards set out in the case law. Officer Ortiz is a trained police officer. He has identified the man he saw at the Raleigh Motel as being the defendant. His testimony is corroborated by the fact that the defendant drives a car similar to the car seen at the motel and has similar clothes.”
“Mr. Nash?”
“Your Honor, I don’t feel that a five-second identification by a man who had just been struck sufficiently hard to require hospitalization is the type of proof that creates a presumption of guilt that is evident or strong as is required by the Chambers case.
“Furthermore, Officer Ortiz can only say that the car was a Mercedes. He embellished that description with information he learned later.”
“Have you made your record, Mr. Nash?”
“I do have several character witnesses here to testify in the defendant’s behalf.”
“You won’t need them. Officer Ortiz is not your ordinary witness, Mr. Nash. He is a trained and experienced policeman. I think his testimony is sufficient and I am going to deny bail.”
David saw Stafford sag for a moment beside him. Monica was collecting her papers and Ortiz was starting to leave the witness stand.
“I can take this up to the supreme court on mandamus, Larry. If we-”
“It’s okay,” Stafford said in a defeated voice. “I knew we were dead when I saw Judge Autley. You did a great job, Dave.”
“Do you want me to come back and see you?”
“No. It’s all right. Just set the trial date set as soon as you can. I don’t know if…Just set the trial date soon.”
Stafford walked over to the guard, who led him back to the holding area. David saw Terry Conklin fold a secretarial notebook and head for the door of the courtroom. Jennifer was waiting just outside the courtroom.
“He’s not getting out. The judge denied bail,” David said bitterly. He was disappointed. He had wanted to win, because he wanted Jennifer to see him win and because he thought that Stafford should be out. But he had lost, and it was starting to get to him: the shock of the court’s rapidfire decision was just wearing off, and the fact that bail had been denied was just seeping through.
“He didn’t seem to even listen,” Jennifer said incredulously. “He didn’t even let you put on our witnesses.”
“I know. I’ll petition the supreme court for a writ of mandamus, but I doubt they’ll grant one. They rarely
