“This incident that inspired your son to start carrying around a five-inch folding knife, when exactly was that?”
“It happened on June ninth in two thousand and one.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I turned in my seat so I could more fully see Minton’s face. I was reading him. He thought he had something. Windsor ’s exact memory of a date was obvious indication of planted testimony. He was excited. I could tell.
“Was there a newspaper story about this supposed attack on a fellow realtor?”
“No, there wasn’t.”
“Was there a police investigation?”
“No, there wasn’t.”
“And yet you know the exact date. How is that, Mrs. Windsor? Were you given this date before testifying here?”
“No, I know the date because I will never forget the day I was attacked.”
She waited a moment. I saw at least three of the jurors open their mouths silently. Minton did the same. I could almost hear the
“My son will never forget it, either,” Windsor continued. “When he came looking for me and found me in that house, I was tied up, naked. There was blood. It was traumatic for him to see me that way. I think that was one of the reasons he took to carrying a knife. I think in some ways he wished he had gotten there earlier and been able to stop it.”
“I see,” Minton said, staring down at his notes.
He froze, unsure how to proceed. He didn’t want to raise his foot for fear that the mine would detonate and blow it off.
“Mr. Minton, anything else?” the judge asked, a not so well disguised note of sarcasm in her voice.
“One moment, Your Honor,” Minton said.
Minton gathered himself, reviewed his notes and tried to salvage something.
“Mrs. Windsor, did you or your son call the police after he found you?”
“No, we didn’t. Louis wanted to but I did not. I thought that it would only further the trauma.”
“So we have no official police documentation of this crime, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
I knew that Minton wanted to carry it further and ask if she had sought medical treatment after the attack. But sensing another trap, he didn’t ask the question.
“So what you are saying here is that we only have your word that this attack even occurred? Your word and your son’s, if he chooses to testify.”
“It did occur. I live with it each and every day.”
“But we only have you who says so.”
She looked at the prosecutor with deadpan eyes.
“Is that a question?”
“Mrs. Windsor, you are here to help your son, correct?”
“If I can. I know him as a good man who would not have committed this despicable crime.”
“You would be willing to do anything and everything in your power to save your son from conviction and possible prison, wouldn’t you?”
“But I wouldn’t lie about something like this. Oath or no oath, I wouldn’t lie.”
“But you want to save your son, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And saving him means lying for him, doesn’t it?”
“No. It does not.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Windsor.”
Minton quickly returned to his seat. I had only one question on redirect.
“Mrs. Windsor, how old were you when this attack occurred?”
“I was fifty-four.”
I sat back down. Minton had nothing further and Windsor was excused. I asked the judge to allow her to sit in the gallery for the remainder of the trial, now that her testimony was concluded. Without an objection from Minton the request was granted.
My next witness was an LAPD detective named David Lambkin, who was a national expert on sex crimes and had worked on the Real Estate Rapist investigation. In brief questioning I established the facts of the case and the five reported cases of rape that were investigated. I quickly got to the five key questions I needed to bolster Mary Windsor’s testimony.
“Detective Lambkin, what was the age range of the known victims of the rapist?”
“These were all professional women who were pretty successful. They tended to be older than your average rape victim. I believe the youngest was twenty-nine and the oldest was fifty-nine.”
“So a woman who was fifty-four years old would have fallen within the rapist’s target profile, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell the jury when the first reported attack occurred and when the last reported attack occurred?”
“Yes. The first was October one, two thousand, and the last one was July thirtieth of two thousand and one.”
“So June ninth of two thousand and one was well within the span of this rapist’s attacks on women in the real estate business, correct?”
“Yes, correct.”
“In the course of your investigation of this case, did you come to a conclusion or belief that there were more than five rapes committed by this individual?”
Minton objected, saying the question called for speculation. The judge sustained the objection but it didn’t matter. The question was what was important and the jury seeing the prosecutor keeping the answer from them was the payoff.
Minton surprised me on cross. He recovered enough from the misstep with Windsor to hit Lambkin with three solid questions with answers favorable to the prosecution.
“Detective Lambkin, did the task force investigating these rapes issue any kind of warning to women working in the real estate business?”
“Yes, we did. We sent out fliers on two occasions. The first went to all licensed real estate businesses in the area and the next mail-out went to all licensed real estate brokers individually, male and female.”
“Did these mail-outs contain information about the rapist’s description and methods?”
“Yes, they did.”
“So if someone wished to concoct a story about being attacked by this rapist, the mail-outs would have provided all the information needed, correct?”
“That is a possibility, yes.”
“Nothing further, Your Honor.”
Minton proudly sat down and Lambkin was excused when I had nothing further. I asked the judge for a few minutes to confer with my client and then leaned in close to Roulet.
“Okay, this is it,” I said. “You’re all we have left. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me, you’re clean and there isn’t much Minton can come back at you with. You should be safe up there unless you let him get to you. Are you still cool with this?”
Roulet had said all along that he would testify and deny the charges. He had reiterated his desire again at lunch. He demanded it. I always viewed the risks of letting a client testify as evenly split. Anything he said could come back to haunt him if the prosecution could bend it to the state’s favor. But I also knew that no matter what admonishments were given to a jury about a defendant’s right to remain silent, the jury always wanted to hear the defendant say he didn’t do it. You take that away from the jury and they might hold a grudge.
“I want to do it,” Roulet whispered. “I can handle the prosecutor.”
I pushed my chair back and stood up.
