“Yes.”
“Wasn’t the man you saw wearing a coat with a hood?”
“Yes.”
“And the hood was up because of the rain?”
“Yes.”
“How far were you from the man when he threw up his arm to block his face and ran?”
“Still a few houses away.”
“I’ve read the statements you gave to the police and the report of your reactions at a lineup in which Mr. Lattimore was one of the participants. Isn’t it true that you cannot say that the man you saw near Judge Carasco’s house was Mr. Lattimore?”
“I can’t say he was the man.”
“And that is because the distance between you and this man, the heavy rain falling on your windshield, and the action of your windshield wipers obscured your view.”
“Yes.”
“Judge Carasco was seated right next to you, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Was there any difference between what you could see through the downpour and what the judge could see?”
“Objection,” Vanessa said.
“Sustained,” Judge Wright ruled.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
As soon as Anthony Carasco was sworn, Vanessa asked him about his educational and professional background and the length of his marriage to Elizabeth Carasco. Then she moved to the night of the murder and established that his wife had sounded normal when he spoke to her at seven fifteen.
“After dinner, did you ask Mr. Hennessey to drive you home?”
“Yes. I’d taken Lyft to the courthouse that morning, so I didn’t have my car.”
“Approximately what time did Mr. Hennessey turn onto your street?”
“A little after eight.”
“So less than an hour after you’d talked to Betsy, when she’d sounded fine?”
“Yes.”
“What did you see when you turned onto your street?”
“I saw a man standing in the street in front of my house.”
“Please describe this man for the jury.”
“He was average height and weight, African American, and he had a scar on his right cheek.”
“You are certain about the scar?”
“I am.”
“We’ve had testimony that this man was wearing a jacket with a hood. If he had the hood up, how could you see his scar?”
“At one point, when he was illuminated by the headlights, the hood fell back far enough to expose his cheek.”
“Does the defendant resemble the man you saw outside your house?”
“Yes.”
“To be fair, can you say with certainty that the man you saw outside your house was the defendant?”
“No, I cannot.”
“No further questions.”
Robin didn’t want to challenge the judge about seeing the scar, because she knew that his answer would just reinforce his direct testimony, so she told Judge Wright that she had no questions. It didn’t matter anyway. Whether or not Judge Carasco had seen the scar on Joe’s face, Joe’s finger and palm prints were in the Carasco house right next to Betsy Carasco’s corpse, where they had no business being.
When Judge Carasco stepped down, Vanessa called Carrie Anders to the stand to tell the jury about the raid on the motel and Joseph Lattimore’s arrest.
“Detective Anders,” Robin said when Vanessa was through with her witness, “other than asking you not to shoot him and asking you to make sure his wife, Maria, and Conchita, their baby, were safe, did Mr. Lattimore say much more to you or any other officer or detective?”
“No.”
“Specifically, he never told you, or anyone else, that he had killed Elizabeth Carasco?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it true that one of the few statements he did make was an assertion that he did not kill Mrs. Carasco?”
“That is true.”
“I’d like to turn to something that has been confusing me, and I’m hoping you can help me out.”
Carrie had known Robin for several years, and she was well aware of how smart she was. When Robin asked her for help, it raised a red flag that was similar to the flags at the beach that warn swimmers that there are sharks in the water.
“Based on Judge Carasco’s seven fifteen phone conversation with his wife at the restaurant and his discovery of the body roughly one hour later, the time of death has been narrowed down to sometime between seven fifteen and eight fifteen, hasn’t it?” Robin asked.
“Yes.”
“Judge Carasco told you that Mrs. Carasco sounded fine when they talked, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“And the conversation at the restaurant didn’t end at exactly seven fifteen, right?”
“Yes.”
“It lasted a few minutes more?”
“Yes.”
“So, we can assume that some time passed between the end of the conversation at the restaurant and the murder, can’t we?”
“Yes.”
“So, maybe a forty-five- or fifty-minute window for time of death?”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Now, Judge Carasco and Ian Hennessey testified that they saw a man outside the judge’s house at about eight fifteen?”
“Yes.”
“He was on foot?”
“Yes.”
“Did they tell you that he ran away on foot between two houses down a lane that leads to the woods?”
“Yes.”
“If he came by car, and the car was parked near the Carasco home, he abandoned it, right?”
“If he came by car and parked nearby,” Carrie said.
“Am I correct that when Mr. Lattimore was arrested, there was mud on his clothing and the clothes were damp?”
“Yes.”
“It was raining heavily, and that would make the ground in the woods muddy, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Was that confirmed by officers who searched the woods for the man the judge and Mr. Hennessey say ran from the scene?”
“Yes.”
“If the clothes had not dried out, that would indicate that he had returned to the motel shortly before his arrest, would it not?”
“Probably.”
“So, if Mr. Lattimore was the man who Judge Carasco and Mr. Hennessey say they saw run from the scene, there is evidence that he was on foot and went through the woods on his way back to the motel where he was arrested?”
“Yes.”
“How long does it take to run from the Carasco home, through the woods, and then go to the Riverview Motel?”
“I would have to guess.”
“If I said that I had my investigator take the shortest route through the woods to the Riverview and it took him one hour and ten minutes, would that sound right?”
Carrie thought for a moment before agreeing.
“When did the first officer arrive at the crime scene?”
“About eight forty-five.”
“When did the first reporter or other
