60
Since it was the defense’s motion to suppress, the defense also bore the burden of proof. They had to prove the stop was bad; the state did not have to prove the stop was good. And the only way to prove that the stop was bad was through, of course, witnesses who had themselves observed the stop. Lourdes’s first witness was Miami Beach Police Officer Victor Chavez.
Chavez walked calmly in through the double doors of the courtroom and nodded somberly in the direction of Judge Chaskel before taking a seat in the witness box next to the bench. He straightened the tie on his uniform and cleared his throat, and a hush fell over the courtroom.
Lourdes finished shuffling her paperwork and jotting notes and after a few long seconds stood from her seat next to Bantling and approached the witness box. That was precisely when a cold fear gripped Victor Chavez’s belly and his mouth suddenly went dry, and right then and there he knew that he was fucked.
A few weeks back he had been out on SoBe with his brother. In fact, they had gone to the Clevelander, the same bar that Morgan Weber, the last Cupid victim found, had disappeared from. And as always, when word got out that he was there,
The Cop Who Caught Cupid,
women were everywhere, all over him, wanting to know how he had done it. Wanting to know if he was packing now. And where. Wanting to know if they could see the back of his squad car. It was incredible. There were
always enough women left over for his brother, too. And that night was no exception.
As soon as he had sat down, this cute redheaded chick with a tight pink shirt and her dark-haired friend had sat next to him, asking if it was true, if he had caught Cupid. He had had a few drinks before hitting the Clevelander and then there were some more and before you knew it, he was feeling pretty good. His brother was totally screwed up, barely able to walk, if he could remember right. And this redhead was getting so hot – falling all over every fucking word he said – he’d known it would be another night of easy pickings.
Now he sat in the hard-backed wooden chair with every eye in the crowded courtroom on him and the cameras rolling, and he knew he had totally fucked up. Sweat rolled off his forehead and down his temples. He could feel it run down his neck, and he rubbed his dry lips together.
The defense attorney who stood before him in a conservative gray suit, her arms crossed in front of her slight frame, was the dark-haired friend from the Clevelander.
And he knew she had heard everything.
61
What had he said?
What had he said?
The same garbled words streaked in front of him. A thousand tales, but which one had he told? which one had she heard? There was so much liquor that night, he’d barely been able to remember his name when he got home.
‘Please state your name for the record,’ she began.
‘Victor Chavez, Miami Beach P.D.,’ he stumbled.
Easy, easy. Take it easy.
‘How long have you been an officer with the Miami Beach Police Department?’
‘Um, since January. January two thousand.’
‘So we can cut to the chase, Officer, you were working the three-to-eleven shift on September nineteenth, two thousand, the night my client, William Bantling, was arrested. Is that correct?’
‘Yes. Yes, I was.’
‘In fact, you were the officer who initiated the stop of his vehicle, were you not?’
‘Yes.’
‘What events had transpired that led to Mr Bantling’s vehicle being stopped?’
Chavez looked around dumbly, perhaps for an assistant from the shadows to run up and whisper the answer in his ear.
‘In other words, what happened that night, Officer Chavez?’
Chavez looked down at his reports, but Lourdes
stopped him. ‘In your own words, from memory, if you would, Officer.’
C.J. rose from her seat. ‘Objection. The witness is allowed to review documents that may refresh his recollection.’
Judge Chaskel leaned over and looked skeptically down at Chavez. Well, he has not yet told this court that he needs his memory refreshed, Ms Townsend. Besides, Officer, I would imagine that this was the biggest night of your short career in law enforcement and that you would remember practically every minute of the evening. Why don’t we try it first without the reports and see how we do?’
C.J. exhaled slowly, trying not to make eye contact with the desperate-looking officer.
‘I was on patrol. Down on Washington, when I saw this Jag, um, Jaguar, license number TTR-L57, go speeding past me southbound, toward the causeway. The MacArthur Causeway. So, I took off after him. I followed him on the causeway for a while, just watching him. And then he made an unsafe lane change – he didn’t signal – and I saw one of his taillights was out. So I pulled him over. I approached the vehicle, right in front of the
Herald
building, and asked him for his license, which he gave me. He looked kind of nervous, you know, sweaty, jittery. I took the license back to my car and stopped at his bumper to look at the broken taillight. That’s when I saw what looked like, um, blood. Right there on the bumper. I gave him back his license and when I did, I thought I smelled marijuana in the vehicle. I, ah, I asked him, Bantling, if I could look in his trunk and he told me to get lost. So I called K-9 and backup. Beauchamp with MBPD
showed up with his dog, Butch, and Butch went nuts on the trunk. Excuse me, he alerted on the trunk. So we popped it open and found the girl’s body.’
‘Were you alone on duty, or with someone else?’
‘I was riding by myself that night.’
‘What speed was Mr Bantling traveling at when you first observed him?’
‘Um, approximately forty miles per hour in a posted twenty-five-mile-per-hour zone.’
‘And you clocked his speed using a radar device?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. So you were following behind him and observed that on your speedometer he was traveling at a speed of forty miles per hour?’
‘No.’ Chavez twisted in his seat uncomfortably.
‘Where were you then, Officer Chavez, when you first noticed this excessive speed violation? This fifteen-miles-over-the-speed-limit bandit in a new Jag, zipping down Washington?’
‘I was on Sixth Street. Sixth and Washington.’
‘What direction were you facing?’
‘My car was facing east. I was out of the car.’
‘Out of your patrol car? So that I am straight up to this point, Officer, you are not using radar, you are not following my client in your patrol car, you are not even in your own patrol car, you are standing on a street corner when you see this car go by you, barely breaking the speed limit?’
‘Yes.’
‘And with your naked eye, just nine months out of the police academy, you were able to determine that this black car was traveling approximately fifteen miles over the speed limit?’
‘Yes. Yes, I could. He was weaving in and out of congested traffic. He was proceeding in an unsafe manner.’
Right out of the manual.
‘And what were you doing out of your patrol car at that time?’
‘I was breaking up a fight between these two kids who’d had some words.’
‘And you left this fight where people presumably were in danger of being hurt, jumped in your patrol car, which was facing the opposite direction of Washington, and did what?’
‘I, ah, followed your client on to the causeway.’
‘How did you get back on Washington to follow my client on to the causeway?’
‘I went up Sixth over to Collins and then up Fifth, past Washington on to the causeway.’
‘So you first went down Sixth, and lost sight of my client in his speeding car, I presume?’
Chavez nodded.
‘Please speak into the microphone, Officer Chavez, because the court reporter can’t record when you nod your head.’
‘Yes. That is correct. I lost sight of him. I found him again, though. Right away. The same car with the same tag TTR-L57 five seven, on the causeway.’ Chavez was not only becoming noticeably uncomfortable under this questioning; he was obviously beginning to despise Lourdes Rubio. His answers were terse, cutting.
‘Was he speeding then?’
‘Um, yes. Yes, he was. He was doing about sixty to sixty-five in a fifty, if I recall.’
‘But you did not pull him over right away, did you?’
‘No’
‘Approximately how many miles passed on the causeway before you decided he posed such a safety risk to the citizens of Miami he needed to be pulled over?’
‘About two. I pulled him over by the
Herald,
before I lost jurisdiction on him.’
‘Hmm. And did he pull right over?’
‘Yes.’
‘He didn’t try to flee?’
‘No.’
‘And you say he was jittery, sweaty, nervous when you approached him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Kind of like you are now, Officer Chavez?’
The courtroom tittered.
‘Objection.’ C.J. rose again.
‘
Touché,
Ms Rubio. Move on,’ said Judge Chaskel.
‘And then you stopped at his bumper to examine this broken taillight that you had suddenly noticed two miles into this pursuit?’
‘Yes. I had noticed the broken taillight when I first caught up to him on the causeway.’
‘That’s when you saw the blood on his bumper?’
‘Well, it looked like blood. It was a dark substance. It turned out later that it was blood. That girl’s blood.’
‘What time of night was it, Officer?’
‘It was approximately eight twenty-five
P.M.’
‘Did you have a flashlight with you?’
‘No, not on me. I had one in the car.’
‘And at eight twenty-five at night with the whiz of busy traffic rushing by all around you, you observed a dark substance on this man’s bumper that you automatically assumed must be blood?’
‘Yes. There was enough light from the causeway lights
and the buildings off the causeway. I could see. It was dark and sticky. It looked like bloodstains.’
‘And you then approached Mr Bantling to give him back his license?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you draw your gun?’ ‘No.’
‘You observe bloodstains. You say my client was nervous and jittery. You suspect something’s amiss, and yet you did not draw your gun?’
‘No. Not at that time. I did when I found the dead girl in his trunk, though.’
‘You’ve already reminded this court that there was a dead body in his trunk, Officer. Several times, in fact, and that issue is not in dispute.’
Chavez tried a more civil tone. ‘I again approached Mr Bantling in his car and that’s when I smelled the marijuana smell in the car.’
‘The car was thoroughly searched that night, was it not, Officer Chavez?’
‘Yes.’
‘And no trace of marijuana was found in the car, was there?’
‘He was obviously smoking it, ma’am. For all I know, he ate the roach before I gave him back his license.’ Chavez was irked. She was making him look like a complete fool.
Lourdes Rubio stared at the rookie for several moments. Then she turned and looked directly at C.J. while she asked her next question.
What did you really think you would find in that trunk, Officer Chavez?’
‘Drugs, weapons – I wasn’t quite sure. Butch sure
knew something was up, though. He damn near tore that trunk to shreds with his paws.’
‘Isn’t that what you suspected you would find in there all along, Officer Chavez? Drugs?’
C.J. felt her hands begin to tingle.
‘No. I pulled him over for excessive speed. Traffic violations. As it turned out later, there were additional facts that led me to believe he was concealing contraband in that trunk. The dog alert confirmed it.’
‘Let’s be honest here, shall we, Officer? Didn’t you think from the moment you saw that Jag on Washington that he was carrying dope?’
‘Objection,’ C.J. said. ‘The question has been asked and answered.’
‘Overruled. The witness may answer,’ said Judge Chaskel.
Chavez remembered what he had told the redheaded chick at the bar, but it was too late to turn back now. He was backed in a corner. His whole career as a cop rested on the right answer. ‘No. I pulled him over for speeding.’
‘What would make you stop breaking up this fight, get in a car, and chase down a speeder? What would your gut instincts tell you might be in that trunk? What had someone else told you might be in that trunk?’
She knew about the tip.
C.J. sprang to her feet. ‘Objection! Asked and answered!’
‘Overruled. Let’s get through this, Ms Rubio.’
‘He was speeding. That was it. There was nothing else.’ Chavez was not going to budge, and it would be war between them. Unless she had proof. ‘It just so happened that when I did get to look in the trunk, ma’am, your client had a dead body in it.’
‘Fucking liar,’ Bantling suddenly said in a loud voice from his seat.
Lourdes Rubio left Chavez and turned toward her client.
‘Mr Bantling, do not interject during testimony. And that language will not be tolerated by this court,’ said Judge Chaskel sternly. He had heard about Bantling’s antics during the First Appearance, and he simply wasn’t going to allow it here – not in his courtroom.
Bantling stood in his seat, his leg shackles clinking. ‘I am sorry, Judge, but he is a liar. They all are. Just look at him.’
‘That’s enough, Mr Bantling. Sit down.’
‘I want to speak, Your Honor.’ Bantling looked over at C.J. and a slick smile bloomed on his face. ‘There is something this court needs to know.’
C.J. felt the room spin again, and she clutched her pen tight in her hand. She looked away from Bantling, straight at the judge. The moment had finally come when it would all come crashing down.
How would it feel to stand accused in front of all these people?
She held her breath waiting for Bantling’s next line.
‘Anything the court needs to know, your counsel will tell me. Now please sit down or I will have you removed. Ms Rubio, is there anything further?’
Lourdes Rubio watched as her client was sat back in his chair with the help of two burly corrections officers. All the while he stared at the prosecutor, a look of contempt and pure hatred painted on his otherwise-chiseled and good-looking face. He enjoyed this mind game he was playing with her, this cat-and-mouse, this I
know something you want no one else to know
game. Well, Lourdes
wasn’t going to let him play it. Not today. Not with her.