Incriminating Evidence (37 page)

“Yes.”

“When did you first meet him?”

“About a year ago. I was working the street near the Fairmont.” She looks over at him. “He drove by in his car. He stopped and asked me what I could do for him.”

“Objection,” I say. “Move to strike. Hearsay. Furthermore, this entire subject matter is irrelevant to this case.”

We’ve been down this path in chambers. I’ve lost. Judge Kelly is going to let Roberta testify as to her sexual encounters with Skipper. I’m objecting to make a record for our appeal.

“Overruled,” says Judge Kelly.

Skipper stares straight ahead as he whispers, “You have to stop this.”

I don’t respond. I glance at Natalie. She doesn’t move.

Payne asks, “How long were you providing services for Mr. Gates?”

“Objection. No foundation.”

“Overruled.”

“About six months.”

Payne asks Roberta what types of services she provided for Skipper.

“At first,” she says, “we had sex in the conventional way.”

“In other words,” Payne says, “you engaged in consensual sex in which Mr. Gates penetrated your vagina with his penis.”

“Objection, Your Honor. I think everybody in this courtroom understood what the witness meant.”

“Sustained.” Judge Kelly casts a scornful eye at Hillary, who looks contrite. She turns back to Roberta and asks whether Skipper’s demands changed after their first few appointments.

“Yes,” she says in a voice that is barely above a whisper. She takes a deep breath. “On our third date, he asked me if we could try something a little more exotic.”

Payne tries to look inquisitive. “Exotic?”

“Yes.”

“When he used the word
exotic
, what did you think he meant?”

“I thought he meant he wanted me to perform oral sex on him.”

“And is that, in fact, what Mr. Gates had in mind?”

“Objection. Irrelevant.”

“Overruled.”

“No, Ms. Payne,” Roberta replies. “He didn’t want me to perform oral sex on him.”

“I see. What did he want?”

“He wanted to tie me up.”

Murmurs. Judge Kelly pounds her gavel. The courtroom becomes silent. Payne asks Roberta to finish her story.

“He said he liked to handcuff women to his bed. He called it a harmless fetish. He promised he’d never hurt me. He said it was a turn-on for him.”

There are tears in Roberta’s eyes. Skipper doesn’t move.

“So you agreed to let Mr. Gates handcuff you?”

“Yes. He was paying me five hundred dollars a night. I’ve had drug problems. I have a child to support. I didn’t think I had any choice.”

Skipper glares at me. If I interrupt her, I’ll only give the jury more reasons to be sympathetic toward her.

“So,” Payne continues, “you let Mr. Gates handcuff you to the bed and have sex with you.”

“Yes.”

“And did this satisfy Mr. Gates?”

“Objection. State of mind.”

“Sustained.”

Payne doesn’t pause. “Ms. Hall, did Mr. Gates ask you to engage in any other unconventional sexual acts?”

“Objection. Move to strike the use of the term
unconventional”

“Sustained.”

Payne tees it up once more. “Did Mr. Gates ask you to engage in any other sexual acts?”

“Yes.” She’s crying now. “He used to like to cover my eyes and mouth with tape.”

Payne glances at the jury. The women in the front row look sympathetic. “And what did he do while you were blindfolded and gagged?”

She wipes her eyes with a tissue. “He used to do it to me.”

“In other words, Ms. Hall, he used to penetrate you while you were handcuffed to the bed and your eyes and mouth were covered with tape.”

Natalie closes her eyes.

“Yes,” Roberta says.

Judge Kelly asks her if she would like to take a short break. She takes a deep breath and declines. She wants to get off the stand as fast as she can.

“Ms. Hall,” Hillary says, “did Mr. Gates ask you to engage in any other sexual acts?”

“Yes. After a few weeks, the handcuffs and the tape weren’t good enough for him. He said he wanted something more.”

“And what was that?”

“One night, while I was handcuffed to the bed and there was tape covering my eyes and mouth, he decided to cover my nose with tape, too.”

“He tried to suffocate you?”

“Yes. I couldn’t breathe.”

“And what happened while your eyes, nose and mouth were covered with tape?”

“He came.”

The gallery buzzes. Judge Kelly pounds her gavel.

“You mean he penetrated you at that time?”

“Yes. He told me it was a big turn-on for him.”

Skipper stares straight ahead. Natalie’s eyes are still closed. Ann glares at me.

“And did he remove the tape after that?”

“Yes.”

Payne walks back to the lectern. “Ms. Hall, did you ever tell Mr. Gates that you didn’t want to do these acts?”

“Yes. I told him I was willing to let him handcuff me to the bed, but I wouldn’t allow him to suffocate me.”

“And what was his response?”

“Objection. Hearsay.”

“Overruled.”

“He hit me in the face. He broke my cheekbone. He told me that I had to do what he wanted or he would have me prosecuted and sent to jail. He said I’d lose my daughter.”

“When did you break off the relationship, Ms. Hall?”

“After he broke my cheekbone. I told him I didn’t care if he prosecuted me or not. I couldn’t take the physical and emotional abuse anymore.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

Judge Kelly decides it’s a good time to call a short break.

—————

I approach Roberta. “Ms. Hall,” I begin, “would you like another glass of water?” I’m not being a nice guy. I want her to drink a lot of water. It will make her look nervous.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.” I glance at the jury. “Ms. Hall, before we talk about your relationship with Mr. Gates, I’d like to ask you a few questions about yourself. For example, where did you get that nice outfit you’re wearing?”

Her eyes dart toward Hillary. “Ms. Payne got it for me.”

“And did you pay for it?”

“No. I presume Ms. Payne’s office paid for it.”

“I see. Is that because you couldn’t afford it?”

“Objection. Relevance.”

“Your Honor,” I say, “we intend to demonstrate that this witness has been provided with special treatment in order to obtain her testimony. Her economic situation is relevant to this discussion.” It’s an old ploy. If I can’t punch holes in her message, I can attack the messenger.

Judge Kelly overrules the objection but tells me that I’ll have to show relevance in a hurry.

“Ms. Hall,” I repeat, “did Ms. Payne’s office buy you that outfit because you couldn’t afford it?”

“Yes.”

“And you have a child to support, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And a drug habit?”

She glances at Payne, who nods. “Yes.”

“And isn’t it a fact, Ms. Hall, that you were paid the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars to appear on a local TV show a few weeks ago?”

She looks down. “Yes,” she whispers.

“And who paid you that large sum of money?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Your Honor,” I say, “I would ask you to instruct the witness to answer the question.”

Judge Kelly tells Hall that she has to reply.

“The money came from Mr. Parnelli.”

“Jason Parnelli? The man who works for Dan Morris, the campaign manager for Mr. Gates’s opponent, Leslie Sherman?”

“Yes.”

“And did Mr. Parnelli instruct you what to say on that show?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it a fact, Ms. Hall, that Mr. Parnelli told you that you wouldn’t get the money unless you implicated Mr. Gates?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it a fact that they told you to lie?”

“No.” She’s crying.

“Objection. Argumentative.”

“Ms. Hall,” I continue, “did Mr. Parnelli pay you to appear at this trial?”

“No.”

“And did he tell you what to say here today?”

“Objection. Ms. Hall has already indicated that she has not been paid to appear at this trial.”

“Sustained.”

“Just a few more questions, Your Honor,” I say. I turn back to Hall. “Isn’t it true, Ms. Hall, that you have negotiated a deal with Ms. Payne whereby you would agree to testify today in exchange for which the DA’s office agreed not to prosecute you for prostitution?”

She looks at Payne but doesn’t respond.

“Isn’t that true, Ms. Hall?” I repeat.

She’s silent.

“Your Honor,” I say, “would you please instruct the witness to answer the question?”

She does.

“It’s true,” Hall says. “Ms. Payne agreed to give me
immunity if I agreed to testify.” She turns and looks at the jury. “But I’m telling the truth about my relationship with Mr. Gates.”

“Move to strike, Your Honor.”

“The jury will disregard Ms. Hall’s last comment.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

“The jury thinks I’m a pervert,” Skipper says as he chews on a turkey sandwich during the lunch break.

Yes, they do. “At least we were able to show that she accepted money. Payne took a calculated risk by putting her on the stand. She knew we’d raise the issue that Parnelli paid her to appear on Jade Warner’s show. At least we were able to mitigate the damage to a degree,” I reply.

“Not by much,” he says.

“Look, Skipper, it’s not going to get better. You know the evidence they’re going to bring up. I’ll do everything I can to cast doubt on it, but add it all up and it’s going to have an effect on the jury.”

All I get is a glare. He isn’t giving an inch. I remind him that Nick the Dick is their next witness. “He’s going to show his videotape and testify that you let Garcia into the room,” I warn.

“It’s a crock.”

“We’ll see.”

37
NICK THE DICK REDUX

“When we were kids, Joe DiMaggio played shortstop. I played second. His brothers were in the outfield. We used to play in an empty lot on Bay Street. I taught Joe how to slide. He taught me how to hit. He was better at sliding than I was at hitting.”

—N
ICK
H
ANSON
.
S
AN
F
RANCISCO
E
XAMINER
. W
EDNESDAY
, O
CTOBER
20.

The trial resumes at one o’clock. “The people call Nicholas Hanson,” Payne says.

On cue, the door to the courtroom opens and there’s Nick the Dick, standing as tall as he can. He takes his own sweet time strolling down the center aisle. He nods to the reporters. He works the room. He shakes hands with the gossip columnist from the
Chronicle
, who is sitting in the second row. The only thing that’s missing is a small band to play “Hail to the Chief.”

He stops in front of the bench and says, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Your Honor.”

I catch the tiniest smile in the corner of Judge Kelly’s mouth. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Hanson,” she says.

The bailiff tells Nick to raise his right hand and asks him if he swears to tell the truth.

“Indeed I do,” he replies. He struts up the steps and climbs into the witness box. He adjusts the microphone and pours himself a drink of water. He offers a drink to the
judge, who declines. He gives the jury a quick salute, then he looks at Payne, who has been taking all of this in at the lectern. There are giggles throughout the courtroom.

After a moment, Judge Kelly decides she’s seen enough of this spectacle. She calls for order and pounds her gavel.

Skipper leans over and whispers, “I don’t like it.”

I’m with him on that.

Payne stands at the lectern and smiles. Having a witness like Nick the Dick on your side is like winning the lottery. She’s going to play this for all it’s worth. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hanson,” she sings out like a camp counselor. She asks him to state his occupation for the record.

“I’m a private eye,” he says. He looks at the jury when he speaks. His left eye twitches. “I’ve been doing this for about sixty-eight years.”

“How old are you, Mr. Hanson?”

I could object on grounds of relevance. I’d tick off the retirees on the jury if I did.

“Eighty-five.”

“And you still work full-time?”

“Indeed I do. I’ve lived and worked in North Beach my entire life. My office is on Columbus Avenue. My children and a couple of my grandchildren work for me.”

Grins in the jury box.

Payne turns serious. “Mr. Hanson, were you hired to observe the defendant?”

“Indeed I was.”

“Why were you hired?”

“The defendant was running for attorney general. His opponent’s campaign manager, Mr. Dan Morris, hired me in June of this year to keep the defendant under surveillance.”

“Why?”

He gives her a sideways look. “Come on, Ms. Payne. You’ve been around the block a few times. Politics is a nasty business. They wanted me to dig up some dirt on him.”

“In other words, Mr. Hanson, they wanted you to follow the defendant and see if you could find him in a compromising position?”

Enough. “Objection. Leading.”

“Overruled.”

“That’s right, Ms. Payne,” Nick says. “They wanted me to see if I could find him in a compromising position.”

Payne is pleased. “Mr. Hanson,” she continues, “did you keep Mr. Gates under surveillance in June, July and August of this year?”

“Indeed I did.” He explains that he and his sons and grandsons work in shifts. “We had a set of eyes on him at all times,” he says. “We were paid a thousand dollars a day to see what we could dig up.”

“And were you able to dig up anything on the defendant, Mr. Hanson?”