Acosta is now at my shoulder, lips to my ear. “It is all true. I lost my temper,” he whispers. “It is also true that he is a pimp,” he adds.
“Did you know that the suspect was a judge of a court of record?” says Kline.
“I knew who he was,” says Frost.
“Did this influence you?”
Such knowledge to the likes of Jack Frost would be like painting a bull’s-eye on the suspect.
“No, it didn’t influence me.”
“Did you arrest him at that point?”
“We tried to reason with him.”
I would check his flashlight for dents, Frost’s standard method of reasoning.
“I told him that if he signed we wouldn’t have to take him into custody, and that he could go home.”
“Not true,” says Acosta. More revelations in my ear. “They handcuffed me immediately. No mention of a citation,” he says. “And they got me there under false pretense.”
“But he still refused to sign the citation?” asks Kline.
“Right. He became abusive,” says Frost.
“More foul language?” says Kline.
“Objection. Leading.”
“Sustained. Let the witness think up his own answers,” says Radovich.
“Your Honor.” Kline with a smile, like how could the court think there is anything but truth telling here?
“Move on,” says Radovich.
“So what did you do, Sergeant?”
“We had to arrest him.”
There’s a pause as Kline retreats to the podium, turns, and leans on it.
“I would ask you to direct your attention to the moments immediately preceding the arrest of the defendant, before you entered that hotel room, and tell the court who was present in the room at the Fairmore Hotel at that time?”
“Before I went in?”
“Yes.”
“That would have been the female decoy, Brittany Hall, and the defendant.”
“Just the two of them alone in that room. No other officers or witnesses?”
“Right.”
“Where were you at that time?”
“I was outside the hotel room door.”
“What were you doing there, outside the door?”
“I was trying to listen,” says Frost.
“Why?”
“For security,” says the cop. “We had word that the electronic wire worn by the decoy had malfunctioned.”
“You were told this?”
“Right.”
“And so you were outside the door in case the decoy needed help?”
“Right.”
“Listening?”
“That’s correct.”
“Was the decoy a policewoman?”
“No. She was a reserve officer, a police science student who volunteered on occasion for such duty.”
“She had performed these duties before?”
“Four or five times that I know of,” he says.
“And while you were outside the door to the hotel room at the Fairmore that night, did you overhear any part of the conversation between the defendant and Ms. Hall?”
“Yes.”
“What did you hear?”
“I heard the defendant offer money to the decoy for the act,” he says.
I see Lenore roll her eyes.
“That’s not true,” says Acosta.
Radovich raps his gavel, and Acosta bites his tongue.
“How much money did the defendant offer Ms. Hall to engage in an act of sex?”
“Two hundred dollars,” says Frost.
“And specifically what did he talk about by way of a sexual act? Did he get specific?”
“Half-and-half,” says Frost.
A look that is a question mark from Kline.
“Sexual intercourse and oral copulation,” says Frost.
Frantic pencils behind me in the press row.
“Did he suggest this, or the decoy?”
“No. No. It was the defendant.”
“It is why I did not want a preliminary hearing,” Acosta whispers to me. “You can see what they are doing. All lies,” he says. He turns to Lili and shakes his head. If he cannot deny it publicly he can at least do so privately, to the one person this would hurt the most. He mouths the words, silently, “It is not true.”
“Your Honor.” Kline notices that Acosta is turned around in his chair. The press is reading his lips.
“Mr. Acosta.” Radovich motions with one hand for him to turn around, face front. The judge gives me a look, as though I am dilatory in my job of baby-sitting.
“Get on with it, Counsel.” Radovich seems to take no pleasure in this.
“So you clearly heard the defendant offer this money in return for sex?”
“Yes.”
“And you can testify to this in trial, in open court, under oath?”
“Sure.”
For the moment Kline has what he wants, money offered, the first element of the crime, consideration. He floats a few softball questions up: “Did the decoy suggest the act?” “Who took the conversation toward sex?”
This is all intended to show that Acosta was not entrapped, that the crime was inspired in his own mind.
“Did the defendant do anything after that?”
“Objection,” says Lenore. “No foundation. The witness has never said that he could see what they were doing.”
“Could you see them?” asks the judge.
“No.”
“Sustained. Next question.”
Kline is searching for the other element, the overt act. This could come in several ways: money paid, pants dropped. The problem is that disrobing or the payment of cash does not require words, unless the decoy is counting out change and giving receipts.
Kline regroups at the podium, studies the cop on the stand for a moment.
“Sergeant Frost. Did you hear anything else outside the door that evening?”
“What, like the rustling of clothes? The crinkling of cash? Give me a break,” says Lenore.
“Is there an objection in there somewhere?” says Radovich.
“Leading,” says Lenore.
“Overruled.”
“Did you hear anything else outside the room that night?” Kline presses.
“I, ah. I heard Ms. Hall say. .”
“Objection. Hearsay.”
“Sustained.”
“Let me ask you another question,” says Kline. “How did you gain access to the room where the defendant and Ms. Hall were?”
“I had an electronic card key. A passkey to the room,” he says.
“Fine, Sergeant. And you used that key to enter the room?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you see when you entered that room, with the key?”
Frost thinks for a moment. He still doesn’t get it.
“The defendant and Ms. Hall,” he says.
Kline is nodding, trying to draw him out. Frost doesn’t understand. Kline finally gives up and asks the question.
“Sergeant. Specifically what was the defendant doing when you entered the room that night?”
“Oh,” he says. “He had his hands on Ms. Hall. He was pushing her toward the bed.”
“That’s a lie!” Acosta is on his feet before I can hold him down. One of the sheriff’s deputies comes up behind him.
“Mr. Acosta, be quiet. You’ll have your opportunity,” says Radovich.
This is worse than we could have expected. More than an overt act, it carries inferences of force. Given the girl’s subsequent murder, it is highly prejudicial.
“The witness is lying,” says Acosta.
“Then let your counsel deal with it,” says the judge. He motions Kline to get on with it.
The deputy has his hands on Acosta’s shoulders, directing him back into the chair.
“You say you think the defendant was pushing the decoy, Ms. Hall, toward the bed. Do you know this for a fact?”
“It’s what I saw.”
“And what did you conclude from this?”
“Objection, calls for speculation.”
“Sustained.”
“Did you see him push her onto the bed?”
Frost hesitates for a second, a fleeting moment of truth.
Kline knows he must have the right answer or he will come up short.
“Yes,” says Frost.
The sag in Kline’s posture, the relief in his face is nearly palpable.
“Thank you, Sergeant. Your witness,” he says.
As an offer of proof it begs a lot of questions. Unfortunately they are all questions of fact, for a jury to determine, something we don’t want to do.