“Good. Now, you were struck immediately upon entering the motel room, were you not?”
“Yes.”
“The lights in the room were out?”
“Yes.”
“You fell, twisted, and your head struck the bed?”
“Yes.”
“How long would you say you had a good view of the killer’s face?”
“A few seconds.”
“Five to ten?”
“A little more than that.”
David picked up the transcript of the bail hearing, consulted an index card, and flipped to a page.
“At a prior hearing in this case, did you not testify as follows:
“’Q: So you saw him for a few seconds?
“’A: Yes.
“’Q: Less than a minute?
“‘A: Maybe five, ten seconds. But I saw him.’”
“I think that’s right.”
“So the only time you saw the killer’s face was for five or ten seconds after you had been struck on the head and before you lost consciousness?”
“Yes, but I saw him clearly. It was Stafford,” Ortiz blurted out. Monica expected David to object to the unresponsive answer, but David merely smiled.
“You are certain of that?” David asked. Monica was puzzled. Why was David giving Ortiz a chance to repeat so damaging a statement?
“Positive.”
“Yes. I believe, at the prior hearing, I asked you, ‘You are certain?’ and you replied, ‘I will never forget that face.’”
“Yes, I said that,” Ortiz answered nervously. He had forgotten that he had given that answer at the bail hearing.
“But the impossible happened, did it not?”
“What do you mean?”
David strolled over to the far end of the counsel table and picked up a stack of papers.
“Were you hospitalized after the blow to your head?”
“Yes.”
“Was Dr. Arthur Stewart your treating physician?”
“Yes.”
“How long were you in the hospital, Officer Ortiz?”
“About a week.”
“How long did you continue to see Dr. Stewart for problems relating to the blow to your head?”
Ortiz could feel the sweat forming on his brow. Why didn’t the bastard ask the question Ortiz knew he would ask?
“I stopped two weeks ago.”
“Mid-October? Is that when he released you?”
“Yes.”
“You had a concussion, did you not?”
“Yes.”
David paused and the smile disappeared. “And you could remember nothing about what happened inside that motel room from June sixteenth until September? Isn’t that true?”
“I remembered parts of what happened. It was-”
“Mr. Ortiz…Pardon me. Officer Ortiz,” David said, his voice cutting like a knife, “I have here copies of your medical records from Good Samaritan Hospital. On September third, did you visit Dr. Stewart?”
“Uh, I…It could have been that date. I had an appointment in early September.”
“You don’t remember?” David asked with a smirk.
Ortiz felt his body tighten. He wanted to strike out at David. He felt like a butterfly pinioned on a board, waiting for dissection.
“Objection,” Monica said, standing. “Mr. Nash is arguing with the witness.”
She could see the danger signs and had to give Ortiz a chance to collect his thoughts.
“Yes, Mr. Nash,” the judge said, “just ask your questions.”
“Very well, Your Honor. Officer Ortiz, did you not tell Dr. Stewart during your September visit, a few short days before you arrested Larry Stafford, that you could not remember what happened inside the motel room and that you could not remember what the killer looked like?”
Ortiz did not answer immediately. He stared at David and at Stafford. Stafford stared back.
“Well, Officer?” David asked sharply.
“Yes.”
“You had amnesia, did you not?”
“Yes, if that’s what you call it.”
“What do you call it?”
“I mean…”
Ortiz stopped. David waited a moment, watching the jury.
“Officer, if I understand your testimony, you first saw the Mercedes from a distance of one city block?”
“Yes,” Ortiz answered quickly, grateful that the subject had been changed.
“Then you followed it from a distance of approximately two city blocks?”
“Yes.”
“And, finally, you saw it briefly as you drove by the motel lot?”
“Yes.”
“Those were the only times you saw the car that evening?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not know what model and year the car was until you checked with the Motor Vehicle Division?”
“I…It’s the car I saw,” Ortiz answered weakly.
David picked up three color photographs from his table and walked over to the witness stand. Monica drummed the tip of her pen on her desk. Ortiz was in trouble, and she did not know how much longer he would be able to stand up under David’s questioning. She had Dr. Stewart on call to testify that Ortiz, and others with amnesia caused by a concussion, could recall with complete accuracy events they had forgotten. But for the jury to believe in Ortiz’s recall, they had to believe in Ortiz.
“Will you study these three photographs, please?” David asked Ortiz. The policeman shuffled the photos until he had viewed all three.
“Would you tell the jury what they are?”
“They appear to be a beige Mercedes-Benz.”
“Same type that Mr. Stafford drives?”
“Yes.”
David smiled at Ortiz and took back the pictures.
“I have no further questions.”
Monica could not believe it. She had seen David tear witnesses apart and she knew his technique. He always softened them up, as he had Ortiz, with questions that would shake their confidence. Then he progressed from point to point, ending with a series of questions that involved a major point in their testimony. The questions about Ortiz’s amnesia had been expected, but she also expected more. Ortiz had been touched by David, but not badly shaken. She wanted him off the stand quickly, while he was still basically intact.
“No further questions,” Monica said.
“Call your next witness.”
