Guilty As Sin

“So who is that someone?” Jaywalker asked them. Only to be instantly rewarded by seeing the name form silently on the lips of several jurors.

“That’s right. The key to this case is the tenth witness, the one who never got to testify. The key to this case is Clarence Hightower.”

He paused for a moment, letting the notion sink in to those in the jury box who hadn’t realized where he was going.

“Let’s take a look at what we learn about Mr. Hightower as the trial progresses.” His use of the pronoun we was a conscious one. He wanted them to make this journey together, the jurors and he, to arrive at the truth simultaneously-even though he himself had arrived at it some time ago.

“We learn that Mr. Hightower is a career criminal, much like Alonzo Barnett. Only where Barnett’s record is for drug possession and sales to support his own addiction, Hightower’s record is one of predatory crimes. Crimes against property. Crimes against people. And while there came a time when Alonzo Barnett finally overcame his addiction, stopped committing crimes and began the never-ending process of redemption, Clarence Hightower stayed in the life. Still dealing, still scheming, still hustling.

“Next we learn that not too many years earlier, the lives of Alonzo Barnett and Clarence Hightower converged inside the walls of Green Haven prison. And don’t let that nice bucolic name fool you. State prisons are terrible places where grown men stab each other, rape each other and kill each other. And there at Green Haven, because of circumstances partly his own fault and partly not, Alonzo Barnett immediately became a target, an inmate with a contract on him.

“A man marked for death.

“And when no one else would save him, Clarence Hightower stepped forward. He offered Barnett a job in the prison barbershop, and by doing that he saved Barnett’s life. I’m not speaking figuratively or metaphorically here. Clarence Hightower saved this man’s life. Literally saved it.

“And from that fact, it’s tempting to think of Mr. Hightower as a Good Samaritan, a selfless individual who rode off into the sunset, asking nothing in return for his good deed.

“Not so fast.

“We learn more about Hightower, you and I. We learn that shortly after his release, he comes looking for the man whose life he saved. But not to celebrate, not for old times’ sake. No, we learn Hightower has a business opportunity for Alonzo Barnett, a drug deal. But Barnett wants no part of it. We learn next that Hightower’s not to be denied. Not only is he persistent, he’s creative. He tries to induce and encourage Barnett, first with the promise of money, then with the lure of drugs and next with a tale of personal woe. And remember those words, jurors. Induce and encourage. They’re important.

“Still, Barnett says no. He’s clean now. He’s got a good job and an apartment of his own. He’s reestablished his ties with his young daughters. Six times he’s offered an opportunity to make some easy money and score some drugs. Remember that phrase, too, jurors. Offered an opportunity.

“Six times Barnett says no to that offer. Six times he turns down that opportunity. Until the seventh time, when Clarence Hightower plays his ace and tells Alonzo Barnett that Barnett owes him this favor in return for Hightower’s having saved his life. And on that seventh time, Barnett finally succumbs to the pressure. He gives in.

“But that’s not all we learn about Hightower. As the trial progresses, we learn, for example, that he’s greedy. Not only does he make money on the deals he convinces Barnett to get involved in, but he mysteriously ends up with some of the drugs, too. We know where he gets the money from. Barnett gives it to him. The drugs are a different story, something we’re left to wonder about. We know he didn’t get them from Barnett, because Barnett gave all the drugs he got to Agent St. James. How some of those very same drugs managed to end up in Hightower’s pocket later is anyone’s guess.

“Or is it?

“Next we learn that Clarence Hightower is one unbelievably lucky man. Because despite the fact that he played a pivotal role in the sales, introducing Agent St. James to Alonzo Barnett, he gets arrested not for felony sales but only for misdemeanor possession. Brought to court, despite his long record, he’s allowed to plead down to disorderly conduct, not a crime at all. Disorderly conduct. Fifteen days. Time served. Faced with a parole violation that normally would send him back to prison for years, he instead gets his parole terminated early.

“Were all those things really nothing but dumb luck and happy coincidence? Come on, jurors, we’re New Yorkers. We weren’t born yesterday. We know what it means when somebody tries to sell us something that sounds too good to be true.”

Jaywalker paused for a moment, not only to give himself a moment to rest, but to give the jurors a chance to think about where he was taking them. He’d told them that Clarence Hightower was the key to the case, but he hadn’t yet showed them how.

Now it was time.

“So what really happened in this case? We’ve been told a lot of things, you and I. But what haven’t we been told? What have the cops left out? What is the evidence telling us, even as two of the prosecution’s witnesses are trying their hardest to keep us from hearing it?”

He walked to the defense table and retrieved Defendant’s Exhibits B and C, the two photos of Clarence Hightower, carried them back to the jury box and placed them on the wooden rail that was all that separated him from the jurors.

“Dino Pascarella would have us believe that this case began with a phone call. He says it was an anonymous call, so we have no way of knowing who supposedly made it. He makes it a blocked call, so we won’t be able to know the number where it supposedly originated. And he makes it an unrecorded call, so we won’t be able to hear it. Anonymous, untraceable and unpreserved.

“According to Pascarella, Clarence Hightower was a total stranger to the authorities when he showed up on Alonzo Barnett’s stoop. According to Pascarella, the first contact he ever had with Hightower was on the afternoon of October 5, 1984, moments after Barnett’s arrest, when Hightower walked up to Barnett and managed to get himself arrested, as well.

“Lieutenant Pascarella is lying about that. And these two photographs, Defendant’s Exhibits B and C in evidence, tell us that loudly and clearly and beyond any shadow of a doubt.”

Jaywalker held the photos up in front of him so the jurors could see them again. Even with them facing away from him, he was able to describe them in detail. Defendant’s C. The dated one. Taken at Central Booking later on, on the same day as the arrests. In it, a cleanly shaven Hightower, dressed in a faded blue denim work shirt. And Defendant’s B. The undated one. Showing Hightower with a three-or four-day stubble of a beard, this time wearing a gray sweatshirt over a blue T-shirt.

“The undated photo is the one taken by Dino Pascarella. Here are his initials, right on the back of it, admittedly written in his own hand. ASP.

“A for Andino.

“S for Salvatore.

“P for Pascarella.

“Although when first asked, Pascarella denied that that particular combination of letters meant anything at all to him. Think about that for a minute.

“Next, Pascarella inadvertently does us a favor. He admits that after October 5, he never saw Clarence Hightower again. So it follows that he couldn’t have taken this undated photo of him after that date. And he admits that.

“What’s left?

“He took the photo, but he obviously didn’t take it on October 5. And he didn’t take it after October 5. What does that leave? It leaves only one possibility. And that’s that Pascarella took the undated photo of Clarence Hightower before October 5. And the reason he did so was because sometime before October 5, Hightower was already working as Pascarella’s informer.

“There can be no other explanation.

“Sure, Pascarella denies it. And Captain Egan, taking Pascarella’s word for it, backs him up and tells us Hightower’s name isn’t in the book.

“Well, Captain Egan may have been willing to take Pascarella’s word for it, but that doesn’t mean we have to.