“Are you here today of your own free will?”
“No, I’m not. I’m here because you made me come. And you’re making me testify under oath. So I have to tell the truth.”
They talked about the plea agreement for several minutes. Ronnie had been approached by police and investigators from the county attorney two nights ago, after his visit to Alex Baniewicz at the detention center. They had told him they suspected his involvement in the Miroballi shooting. He had requested a public defender and entered into a plea agreement.
“You understand, Mr. Masters, that if you tell a single lie in this courtroom today, we will rip up this plea agreement?”
“Yes.”
“And you can be fully prosecuted for the crime for which you currently have immunity? If you lie.”
“I understand that.”
“All right. Let’s talk about the eleventh of February, this year. Take you to seven o’clock that evening. Do you remember that?”
“Yes. I was getting ready to pick up Alex from the club where he plays basketball.”
“Alex Baniewicz, the defendant?”
“Yeah.”
“What club was that?”
“City Athletic. They have an open gym every Wednesday night. Alex plays until eight. Sometimes it goes on a little. So I left around, maybe seven-twenty. It takes me about twenty-five minutes or so but you never know.”
“You drove to the City Athletic Club to pick up the defendant?”
“Yeah.”
“And tell us what happened next?”
“Well, I was driving down Bonnard-that’s the street just to the south of the club.”
“The club is on Bonnard and Gentry?”
“Right. Bonnard’s the east-west street. So I was driving east on Bonnard, after getting off the highway. Anyway, I get to the intersection and I see a police car with its lights flashing. And I saw someone that looked a lot like Alex running from a cop.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, these guys were to my south. I saw Alex run into an alley. So I went east past Gentry to the next street, Donnelly. I went south down Donnelly to the alley. Like, the alley from the other side that Alex went in.”
“Donnelly is a one-way street going north, is it not?”
“Yeah, it is. I went the wrong way down a one-way street.”
“Why the urgency?”
He shrugged, offered a plaintive smile. “You see your brother running from the cops?”
Morphew nodded. “What were your intentions in going there?”
“I don’t know. I just, sort of did it.”
“Did you, in fact, reach the alley by car?”
“Yes. Well, pretty much. I pulled my car up just a little past the alley and walked over to it. Ran, is more like it.”
“What did you see or hear when you made it to the alley?”
“I saw Alex and a cop.”
“Did you know who the cop was?”
“I had never met that person before in my life. I knew Alex, of course.”
Never met that person. That didn’t mean he didn’t know who he was. Ronnie was being cute here, she sensed.
“It was the two of them,” Ronnie continued. “Alex and this cop. I saw the cop and Alex going for guns. Alex pulled out his gun and shot the cop.”
Morphew paused a good long moment, then pointed at Alex. “You’re sure it was Alex-the defendant-who shot Officer Raymond Miroballi?”
“Yes.”
The jurors seemed impressed with this. Shelly realized how much Dan Morphew must have worried about proving that Alex, in fact, was the shooter. He had probably taken for granted that Shelly would concede that fact, given her plea of self-defense; his heart had probably done a few leaps when she cross-examined Eddie Todavia, and then more so when Sanchez said he couldn’t identify Alex.
He was putting Ronnie Masters on the stand, even though Ronnie was testifying that both Miroballi and Alex went for their guns. That was consistent with self-defense. Morphew must have felt desperate to put the gun in Alex’s hand if he was willing to live with this testimony from Ronnie.
Shelly’s stomach was cramping up. She felt the perspiration in her hairline, her underarms.
“Now, Mr. Masters,” Morphew continued, “you say that when you first came into the alley, the defendant was removing his gun from his pocket, and Officer Miroballi was reaching for his?”
“Yes.”
“And whose gun got out first?”
“I saw Alex’s first.”
“And you said that you saw nothing before this moment?”
“I did not.”
“You heard nothing?”
“I did not.”
That was the best Morphew could do. His point being, Miroballi was probably just trying to react to Alex. The fact that Alex got out his gun first meant that Alex was the aggressor. That was the one dent that Morphew could put in the self-defense case, making Alex the initiator of the events because he pulled the gun first. Although Ronnie had simply said he saw Alex’s gun first.
Being cute again?
“What happened next, Mr. Masters? After the shooting?”
Ronnie adjusted in his chair. “Alex turned around and ran.”
“Did he see you?”
“Yeah. I ran to my car and left. I didn’t look back. I was scared.”
“And do you know what Alex did?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Where did you go?”
“I went home.”
“Later that night, did you receive a visit from police officers?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they ask you questions about Alex and the shooting?”
“Yeah.”
“And you lied to them, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You lied to help Alex.”
“Yes. I didn’t-I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Are you telling the truth now?”
“Yes.”
“Were you aware that the defendant had met with Officer Miroballi?”
“Before the shooting? No, I didn’t know.”
“Did you talk to the defendant about Officer Mirohalli?”
“Well, only after the shooting. I didn’t know he’d been talking to the guy before that.”
“When did you talk to the defendant about that?”
“One time when I visited him. It was a couple weeks after he was arrested.”
“Was the date February twenty-fifth, 2004?”
“Yeah. I went to see him at the detention center. I asked him what the deal was with him and Miroballi.”
“And what did he say to you?”
“He said he’d been playing a dangerous game with Miroballi.”
“A ‘dangerous game,’ he said?”
“Yes.”
“Did he elaborate on that?”
“No.”
Morphew leafed through his notes. “Thank you. I have nothing further.”
Shelly felt her stomach flip.
“Are you ready for cross-examination, Ms. Trotter?” the judge asked.
She pushed herself slowly to her feet. She was ready.
72
They looked at each other for a long while. She didn’t know what to make of his expression. Challenging, to put a word on it. He seemed anxious, but who wouldn’t in this situation? He did not take his eyes off her. So much passed between them at this moment.
She had tried, she told herself. She had tried to give this boy a good life. The circumstances-most notably the fact that her father was an elected official averse to embarrassment-had led her away from a conventional adoption, to a private attorney adoption procedure that often connected older people, too old for the state agencies, with the not atypical result that his father died when Ronnie was young. His mother, Elaine Masters, was a good woman but not strong enough to persevere. She was an alcoholic who provided some, but not enough, for this boy.
A mother is responsible for how her child turns out. Not completely, no, but to a large extent. Was all of this her fault on some level? She didn’t know the answer. It was pointless. Objection, irrelevant. Her job was at hand. She had avoided it with all her might but now it was time.
If you had told me, she did not say to him, we could have figured something out.