Double Tap (30 page)

“For training,” he says. “I told you it’s what I did. I trained other soldiers. We did a lot of shooting in shooting houses.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Situational stuff,” he says. “Listen, trust me, you don’t need to know. It doesn’t have anything to do with this, with Chapman or Isotenics or any of this.”

“It does now. Templeton is bearing down on you. He’s established that the rounds were purchased by the Army.”

“That’s true.”

“He’s going to prove that you were in the Army and that the gun in question was issued to you.”

“So it would make sense that the bullets would be in the bag with the gun, right? You made the point,” he says. “Answered my question, the one I asked this morning. I think the jury is starting to understand what’s happening here.”

“Good. Then they’re a leg up on me,” I tell him.

“Listen, you gotta believe me. I didn’t kill her. I had no reason to kill her.”

“Templeton hasn’t gotten to that yet, but you can believe that he’s working his way there.”

“The reason the killer used the solid round,” he says, “is because he needed to tie that bullet to my gun. It’s the frame-up. You made the point in court. Crystal clear,” he says. “The jury is getting the picture. I know they are.”

“Listen, if you start trying to mind-meld with a jury, guessing what’s going on behind twelve sets of eyes, you’re likely to get the shock of your life when they come back with a verdict. What they heard today is that that bullet, the one that exploded inside Chapman’s head, was purchased for use by the Army. Before he’s finished, Larry Templeton is going to take that fractured bullet and sprinkle bread crumbs all the way from the tiniest piece right to your doorstep unless you tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing’s going on. I’ve told you everything I know about Chapman. I don’t know who killed her or why. All I know is she was scared.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

W
ith Sims holding us at bay at Isotenics, Templeton would like to wrap up the case before damaging evidence has a chance to erupt from that quarter. Harry may be gloomy concerning a decision from the court of appeal, but at this point Templeton is in the dark as much as we are. If there is anything explosive sitting in Chapman’s files or on her computer, that dam could burst at any moment.

Templeton doesn’t waste any time. In the afternoon he does what I have expected: he keeps it linear and goes for the jugular.

Major Hammon Ellis is an officer assigned to the Pentagon in Washington. Part of his duties involve custody of military records for small arms as well as firearms training at several military posts. One of these is Fort Bragg, North Carolina, Emiliano’s last assigned duty post.

Ellis sits bolt upright in the witness chair. He is decked out in his dress uniform, gold oak leaves on the epaulets of his jacket. He is working from a manila folder in his lap, shuffling papers and identifying forms maintained by DOD to keep track of government small arms, pistols, rifles, and automatic weapons and to identify the soldiers to whom they are assigned.

Templeton makes quick work of the chain of possession on the murder weapon.

“Heckler and Koch Mark Twenty-three forty-five-caliber semiautomatic.” The witness is looking at a folder with several sheets of paper. “Yes, our records show that model with the serial number as stated shipped to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, on the date indicated on the form.”

Copies of this have been handed to us, and Templeton moves the form into evidence. Without objection he nods toward his computer tech and suddenly the form in question appears on the screen for the jury to view.

“Your Honor, I would ask the court to take notice that the serial number on the weapon as set forth on this form is the same as that serial number on the handgun identified and marked as People’s exhibit six. The Heckler and Koch Mark Twenty-three forty-five-caliber semiautomatic pistol. In order to save time and avoid confusion, with the court’s permission we will refer to the exhibit number with regard to the other forms rather than the serial number.” Templeton wants no mistake in the minds of jurors on this point. The firearm the witness is talking about is the murder weapon.

“Any objection, Mr. Madriani?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Templeton turns back to the witness. “Then let me ask you, is that an accurate copy of the original form in your file?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Can you tell the jury what that form represents? What it shows?”

“That the firearm in question, what you have identified as People’s exhibit six, was shipped from Picatinny Arsenal in New Jersey to Fort Bragg on the date set forth on the form.”

He directs the tech to leave the form on the visualizer while he has the witness identify another piece of paper from DOD, this one with a date and signature clearly visible. He moves it into evidence and it goes up on the visualizer next to the first form.

“Can you tell the jury what this form represents?”

“This is the document used by the Department of Defense for military standard requisitioning and issue procedures for small arms. When a weapon owned by the government, in this case the Department of Defense, is issued to anyone in the military, they are required to sign the form evidencing their receipt and possession of the weapon.”

“And does the firearm in question become their personal weapon, so to speak, for military purposes at that point?”

“It does.”

“So they don’t have to check it in and out every day?”

“In some cases. For example, in basic training that may be required. But they only have to sign for it once, when the weapon is assigned to them, and then again on the required form when it is formally surrendered or returned to government stores, sometimes upon reassignment to a new post, or when the person is discharged from the military.”

“And in this case, is the form on the screen an accurate copy of the original in your folder?”

“It is.”

“And can you identify for us the weapon that this document relates to?”

“It’s the same People’s exhibit six. You can see the serial number as well as the description, make, and model of the firearm on the line just above the signature.”

“And can you make out the signature? Can you tell us whose name that is?”

“The name in the signature block on the form is Emiliano Michael Ruiz.”

“So the form in question”—Templeton points at its DOD number and date up on the screen—“would indicate that the firearm in question, what we have identified as People’s exhibit six, was issued to Emiliano Ruiz on the date set forth, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Templeton nods. “Can you tell us, are you acquainted with Mr. Ruiz?”

“Not personally, no.”

“Would you know him if you saw him?”

“Yes.”

“And how would you know what he looked like?”

“From military records,” says the witness. “I had occasion to examine his Army records—including photographs, his military ID number—which also contained documents bearing his signature.”

“Is Mr. Ruiz in the courtroom today?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Could you identify him for the jury.”

Before the witness can point, Ruiz stands up at our table. We have been prepared for this and decided that it would be best that Emiliano not be caught sitting or slouching at the table as if skulking from the jury.

“That’s him,” says the witness.

“May the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant, Emiliano Ruiz,” says Templeton. “Now, let me ask you, does your office or your department have any records evidencing the transfer of this weapon to anyone else?”

“No.”

“Does your office or your department have any records evidencing the surrender or return of this firearm by Mr. Ruiz back to the military or to the Department of Defense upon his discharge from the military three years ago?”

“No, we do not.”

“Was Mr. Ruiz required by law to return this weapon to the military—to turn it in at the time of his discharge?”

“He was.”

“But he failed to do so, is that correct?”

“Apparently,” says the witness.

With each question, the noose tightens.

“So the weapon in question, that handgun”—Templeton points to the evidence table—“People’s exhibit six, is actually property belonging to the United States government, is that right?”

“It is.”

Templeton has the witness testify as to Ruiz’s skill with a handgun: the fact that he was at one time, according to records, on the Army Pistol Team and that his last assignment was as a range instructor at Fort Bragg. He offers no specifics. After some tugging and word twisting, Templeton gets the major to agree that Ruiz could be considered a “world-class” shooter. I object on grounds that the term is vague, and the judge strikes it from the record and instructs the jury to disregard it. As if he can unring the gong.

Templeton then slows the beat a bit. He casts about in the stack of papers on the podium until he finds what he wants.

“Let me ask you, Major, do you also serve as liaison in the Pentagon for small-arms training at certain military bases, including Fort Bragg in North Carolina?”

“I do.”

“In this capacity, are you familiar with small-arms training techniques?”

“I’m not an instructor but I am familiar with techniques and training regimens.”

“Are you familiar with firearms training techniques that are involved in what is called CQBs, otherwise known as close-quarters battles?”

“I am.”

“Can you explain to the jury what is involved in close-quarters-battle training?”

“It depends on the unit involved, but for the most part it focuses on small-group team techniques. The coordination used in a close-quarters assault. It’s designed to teach techniques that might be used for the assault on a building to capture it, or possibly for hostage rescue or to take prisoners. The training would emphasize selective fire so that only intended targets are shot: shooting on the move, engaging multiple targets, how to sweep an area with the muzzle of a firearm to avoid friendly-fire accidents. It would also include procedures and practices for entry so as to provide covering fire for members of the team.”

“Would this involve training with live fire? Weapons that are actually loaded with live ammunition?”

“Oh, yes. Again, depending on the unit, it could be anything from hundreds to thousands of hours. It would involve intensive live-fire training in realistic situations so that the techniques that are imparted become instinctive, instilled,” Ellis says.

“By
instinctive
you mean second nature?”

“Yes.”

“Do these techniques take a long time to learn?”

“To learn them well, so that they can be performed reliably in actual armed confrontations, yes. In almost any situation it always comes back to training,” says the witness. “Studies show that what you learn at the instinctive level is what you will do when it comes time to perform, especially under stress.”

“Now let me ask you, with reference to that particular firearm”—Templeton motions toward the table where the Mark 23 is laid out—“People’s exhibit six. To your knowledge, was that model of weapon designed for any specific purpose?”

“Yes. It was designed under contract for the military, Special Operations Command, for use principally in specified situations including close-quarters battle.”

Most of this is included with the literature on the handgun from the manufacturer and in online articles, but the fact that Templeton has someone in uniform on the stand reciting it gives it more credence as it is delivered to the jury.

“Is that why the kit included with the gun contains a silencer—the suppressor?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, by the way, while I’m at it, do you know whether the possession of a silencer, a suppressor, by a private citizen, not a member of the active military, is a violation of law?”

“Objection as to relevance, Your Honor. There is no charge as to that issue.”

Templeton tries to slip one in under the belt.

“Sustained. Move on, Mr. Templeton.”

“Just a few more questions, Your Honor.” He regroups. “So the weapon, People’s exhibit six, was specifically designed for applications involved in close-quarters battle?”

“Yes. It could be used in other situations as well.”

Templeton draws the witness back before he can wander too far: “But it was designed with that in mind, is that right?”

“That’s correct. The United States military ceased use of the forty-five automatic as the standard-issue sidearm some years ago. They went to a nine-millimeter pistol manufactured by Beretta at that time.”

“That’s a smaller caliber, is that correct? Smaller than the forty-five?”

“That’s right.”

“So what was the military trying to achieve by returning to the forty-five automatic in the form of that particular handgun? Again, I’m talking about People’s exhibit number six.”

“Lethality,” says the witness.

Templeton turns to look at the jury wide-eyed, as if to say,
Where have we heard that term before?
Templeton’s physical gestures and timing are worth the price of admission: his diminutive stature seems to magnify their effect.

“The forty-five automatic has more stopping power,” Ellis continues testifying right through Templeton’s pantomime.

“One final point. You stated earlier that this model of firearm, People’s exhibit six, was designed in part for close-quarters combat. With regard to training in that area, have you ever heard the term
double tap
used?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell the jury what the term means within the realm of military training?”

“A double tap is a technique for firing two shots in quick succession into a single target.”

“And can you tell the jury the purpose of the double tap—what it’s intended to accomplish?”

“To make sure that a target that goes down does not get up again,” says the witness.

“To make sure that the target has been killed, in other words?”

The witness nods. “In a word, yes.”

“And would this technique, the use of the double tap, be instinctively instilled by training through close-quarters battle techniques in those who underwent such training?”

“If the training was done properly, yes.”

“So that it might become second nature?”

“I would say so, yes.”

“Do you know whether the defendant Emiliano Michael Ruiz was schooled in these techniques, methods of close-quarters battle, and specifically the application of the double tap?”

“Yes. He was.”

Templeton turns on his stool toward me. “Your witness,” he says.

Early Saturday morning, in the middle of a trial, I am camped out at the office, going over damage assessments.

The testimony by Major Ellis put some sizable holes in us. But this morning I am thinking that it could have been worse. During his testimony I had one of those moments of sudden revelation, as when the finger of the grim reaper brushes your shoulder. There was the definite sensation that Templeton had dropped something in my path that he wanted me to touch.

Unless I am wrong, Hammon Ellis was the evidentiary equivalent of live ordnance, high explosives attached to a trembler switch just waiting for me to touch him the wrong way.

Templeton set the fuse when he had Ellis testify that he, the witness, had access to Ruiz’s personnel files and used it to compare signatures. At that moment I realized that the prosecution knew more about my client’s background than I did. Templeton is no doubt being fed information by the feds, who would like to wrap the case up and make it go away as quickly as possible. The fact that Templeton can get willing cooperation out of the Pentagon in the form of witnesses is an indication of their position.

Other than the broad field of training with firearms, Templeton never asked Ellis for specifics regarding what it was that Ruiz had done in the military. He left this dangling in front of me for a reason. He wanted me to tug on it. That way he could have picked the pieces of what was left of me off the courtroom walls after the answer.