Capitol Offense (28 page)

McPartland was unimpressed. “I think there might have been a little rephrasing mixed in with the repeating. Sustained.”

Guillerman continued. “You left Mr. Kincaid’s office, you went to the police station, you followed the detective to the hotel, you discovered his room, and you went up. With a gun. Is that correct?”

Dennis exhaled heavily. “That’s correct.”

“But you want this jury to believe that you did not go there with the intent to kill him.”

“That’s correct.”

“The thought never entered your mind.”

“I can’t say that. At that time, I had a lot of thoughts going through my mind, some of them pretty bad. But I didn’t act on them.”

“You did carry the gun for a reason, I’m assuming.”

“I thought I might need it to get in to see him. And I thought I might want to scare him. Intimidate him a little. Get him to tell the truth about what he had done.”

Guillerman whistled. “That’s very logical thinking.”

“I doubt it.”

“I must say, Mr. Thomas … you don’t strike me as crazy at all.”

“Thank you. I guess.”

“You strike me much more as a planner.”

“Objection,” Ben said.

“I would prefer it,” Judge McPartland said, “if your questions were actually questions, Mr. Prosecutor.”

“Sorry,” Guillerman replied, not looking very sorry.

“We’re not that far away from closing arguments. Can’t you wait?”

“I will do my best.” He turned back to the witness. “You were apparently level-headed enough to see an attorney before anything happened that might cause you to need one, right?”

“I’ve already said that.”

“And you were level-headed enough to track down Detective Sentz.”

“I did.”

“And you managed to find out which room he was in.”

“It didn’t require Jessica Fletcher.”

“And yet now we learn that all this time you were temporarily insane, under the control of an irresistible impulse. That was one doggone smart, cold, and logical irresistible impulse.”

“Your honor,” Ben said, rising, “I’m sorry, but I must object again. This is nothing but closing argument thinly disguised as questioning.”

“I have to agree with Mr. Kincaid,” McPartland said. “If you have no more real questions, Mr. Guillerman, sit down.”

“I’m sorry, your honor. I’ll move along. I think I’ve made my point.”

Unfortunately, Ben knew that was the truth. He had made his point, and he would make it even more strongly later. “Now let’s talk about this mythical other man you claim you saw at the police station, the one who conspired to force Detective Sentz to … well, to abide by the rules of the Tulsa Police Department. You don’t know his name, right?”

“Right.”

“You can’t describe him.”

“True.”

“No one else saw him.”

“No one else will admit to seeing him.”

“What about Officer Torres? He stuck up for you at other times.”

Dennis lowered his head and frowned. It was obvious this question bothered him. “He said he didn’t know who or what I was talking about.”

Guillerman spread his hands wide. “Doesn’t it seem like someone else should have seen this mystery man?”

“Yes,” Dennis said firmly, “it does. And I think it’s very suspicious that he could be there and no one recalls it.”

“So I guess he was also out to get you? Good thing you didn’t know who he was when you were toting that gun around.”

“Your honor!” Ben protested. The judge reprimanded Guillerman again, but Ben knew all the legal wrangling would have little impact on the jury. Guillerman was scoring his points, slowly, one by one, chipping away at Dennis’s credibility.

“You do understand, do you not, Mr. Thomas, that Detective Sentz was abiding by the written rules of departmental procedure?”

“I know that is technically correct. I also know that he had the discretion to open an investigation if he saw fit. And I believe that most human beings would have done so given the circumstances. The fact that he repeatedly refused to do so is suspiciously—”

“Right, right. I know. The great conspiracy to get you. Or your wife. Do you know of any reason why anyone would want to hurt you and your wife?”

“No. Apparently there was one.”

“But you don’t know what it could possibly be.”

“That’s what I was trying to find out!” Dennis leaned forward in his chair. Veins throbbed on the sides of his head. “That’s why I wanted to talk to Detective Sentz.”

“You mean, that’s why you wanted to shoot him.”

“No! I just wanted to know what happened. I wanted to know why my wife had to die! Is that so much to ask?”

He was shouting now and it didn’t sound good. Ben wished there were something he could do to slow this down, break it up. But there was nothing. A frivolous objection would not help Dennis.

“Let me ask you another question, Mr. Thomas. That whole week she was missing, did you really even want to find your wife?”

Ben closed his eyes. Now Guillerman was being intentionally provocative, taking advantage of Dennis’s agitated state.

Dennis was floored, literally sputtering. “I—I can’t believe you would even ask that. Of course I did. I—I tried everything—”

“Isn’t it true that her car was found less than two miles from your house?”

“As the crow flies. But I didn’t know where she was.”

“You had a week. In seven days you couldn’t find someone who was two miles away?”

“I didn’t know where she was!” Dennis was practically shouting now.

“Are there many roads out there, sir? Out to your place?”

“Only one.”

“So you couldn’t effectively search one road two miles from your home?” Guillerman shrugged. “Of course. Who would think to look there?”

“She wasn’t visible!” Dennis was on the defensive now and he acted like it. He was straining, trying to convince the unconvinceable, which never made for effective testimony. “You couldn’t even tell a car had gone off the road!”

“What if you got out of your car and looked around?” Guillerman asked. “Like the police ultimately did. Didn’t take them long to find her.”

“They knew where to go.”

“Why did you need a cell phone signal to tell you the obvious? That she was probably not far from home?”

“It wasn’t obvious! I didn’t know!”

“I’ll tell you what I think, Mr. Thomas. I think you didn’t want to find your wife. That’s why you didn’t think to look in the obvious place.”

“Noooo!”

“Maybe the real reason you were so angry that day is because the police found her!”

“It’s not true, you—”

“You were mad at her. You wanted to be free of her. That’s why you hit her!”

“Nooo!” Dennis rose to his feet. “I loved my wife!
I loved my wife!”

Ben slumped in his seat. It was horrifying. Dennis was melting down right before their eyes.

“Your honor,” Ben said, “could we take a short break?”

“No!” Guillerman barked. “I’m not done. Don’t let this man have another powwow with his attorney. Who knows what they might cook up next!”

“I’m going to allow the cross to continue,” Judge McPartland said.

Guillerman pressed ahead. “You planned this murder, didn’t you, Mr. Thomas? Planned the whole thing from start to finish.”

“I did not! I never—”

“You did your research, found out what you needed, got your gun, tracked Sentz down, and shot him in cold blood.”

“No!”

“You hated him!”

“I never wanted to hurt him!”

“Then why did you hit him?”

Dennis fell silent.

Guillerman continued. “First your wife, then the cop. You have a nasty little temper, don’t you?”

“I never meant to hurt him. I just—I lost control.”

“I believe it. More than once.”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Didn’t you hit Detective Sentz at the scene of your wife’s accident?”

“Yes, but—”

“Objection!” Ben shouted.

“Overruled,” the judge said in a firm tone that permitted no rebuttal.

“Funny thing to do to someone you didn’t want to hurt,” Guillerman continued. “Logical thing to do to someone you wanted to kill.”

“I just swung—”

“So hard he was scheduled for root canal surgery. Except you killed him before he could get there.”

“I did not want to hurt him!”

“He could’ve pressed charges against you, but he didn’t. He withdrew them. An act of charity that cost him his life.”

“He scraped up the entire right side of my face!”

“You probably wanted to kill him right then and there, but others stopped you, so you waited until he was alone and did it then!”

“That isn’t true!”

Guillerman leaned in for the kill. “And after you hit him, you threatened him.”

“No!”

“Didn’t you scream, ‘There will be a reckoning!’ over and over again?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t bother lying about it. I have lots of witnesses.”

“I said it, but—”

“And that was a death threat, right? By a ‘reckoning,’ you meant a murder!”

“That is not true!”

“There will be a reckoning, you said repeatedly. And a few days later, there was! You shot Detective Sentz in cold blood!”

“No!”
He looked at Ben, as if pleading for help.
“No!”

“One last question, Mr. Thomas. Just one and then we’re done. And be honest, because if you are not, this jury will see through you, just as I do. My question is this. You claim you weren’t out to get Detective Sentz. You claim you blacked out and you don’t know what happened. Very well. When you finally came to, when you awoke and someone told you that Detective Sentz was dead, murdered—what was your reaction?”

Dennis’s eyes darted to the defendant’s table.

“Don’t look to your lawyer for an answer! I think he’s done quite enough for you already. I want the truth this time. I want to know—when you found out that Christopher Sentz was dead—how did that make you feel?”

Dennis hesitated. His lips parted, but no words came out.

“We’re all waiting for an answer, sir. Tell us the truth! What was your reaction?”

“I—I—”

“Don’t pretend you were filled with remorse. Don’t give this jury any more trash. Tell us the truth. What was your reaction?”

After all the shouting, Dennis’s voice seemed so tiny he was barely audible. “I was glad Sentz was dead.”

Ben’s eyelids closed.

“What was that, sir? I’m not sure the jury could hear you!”

“I was glad,” Dennis said, much louder. “I was glad, okay?”

“You were glad!” Guillerman turned to the jury. “Did you hear that? He was glad!”

“The man killed my wife!” Dennis said, matching his volume. “He deserved to die!”

“Thank you for your honesty.” Guillerman threw up his hands. “Nothing more. I’ve had as much of this calculating killer as I can take.”

“Counsel!” the judge said, eyes flared.

“No more questions. I will pass the witness.”

“You will pay a five-hundred-dollar fine for contempt of court, that’s what you will do. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my courtroom. You are an experienced …”

The judge’s chastisement went on for some while, but Ben knew it wouldn’t matter. Guillerman’s tirade was well worth the five hundred dollars his office would pay, and then some. The judge would instruct the jury to ignore his remarks, which was rather like asking a mouse to ignore the elephant about to step on its head. Impossible.

Dennis had been seriously damaged during this examination. He wasn’t sure Guillerman had actually brought out anything new. What he had attacked was not so much Dennis’s veracity as his character. If the jury didn’t trust him, they wouldn’t cut him a break. They wouldn’t believe he was temporarily insane and they wouldn’t be motivated toward jury nullification.

If they bought what Guillerman was peddling, the only thing they would be motivated to do would be to find Dennis guilty of murder in the first degree.

It was ten past two in the morning when the blip on the transponder screen told Loving that Officer Shaw had finally arrived at the hospital.

He slumped down in the front seat of his van, making sure he wasn’t spotted. He had waited too long for this to screw it up now. The floating beam of the headlights told him that Shaw’s PT Cruiser had passed him by. Then he slowly inched upward in his seat and waited for something to happen.

As far as he could tell, the operation was going down exactly as Dr. Sentz had planned. Loving had successfully intercepted the text message: LOADING DK THU 2. He had picked up a few other text messages, too, which told him more than he ever wanted to know about Shaw’s personal life and those massage parlors on Cherry Street.

They were at the hospital’s rear loading dock. A truck had been parked here more than an hour. It was not a large truck, however. More like the size of your average armored car. So what exactly was going to be transported? Money? Gold bullion? And why were they picking it up at the hospital? There had to be a reason. No one would choose this location if they could avoid it. Unlike most buildings, a hospital remained active all through the night. It was a dangerous place to be doing anything you didn’t want other people to know about.

Why did the oncologist need to be involved? And why was it happening here? He remembered that Sentz indicated to Shaw that someone else was the primary boss orchestrating the operation. Who was it? Loving had no answers—yet. But he was determined to get them.

Shaw left his car. Loving wanted to be in a position to keep an eye on him. He had intentionally parked his van far enough away to avoid attracting attention. But he was too far removed from the loading dock. He needed to be closer. He could try to follow the truck, but he might lose it, and even then there was no guarantee that following the truck to its destination would give him the information he wanted. He would feel much better if he could see and hear what happened. Better yet if he could get a GPS tracking device on that truck.

He was a little worried about exiting without attracting notice. But he had rigged his van a long time ago so that no noise was made and no lights went on when he opened his door. Carefully he eased the door just enough and slid his wide frame through the opening, then began creeping forward. Didn’t appear to have attracted any attention.