“Yes, sir.”
“And after you extinguished it?”
“Then I looked closer, and was able to distinguish that what had been burning was the body of a man.”
“A man?”
“That’s right.”
“What did you do then?”
“Alerted the police officers and told them to phone for an EMS unit.”
“Emergency Medical Service?”
“That’s right.”
“Were you there when the EMS unit arrived?”
“Yes, I was.”
“When was that?”
“Approximately ten minutes later.”
Dirkson nodded. “Thank you. That’s all.”
Again, Steve Winslow declined to cross-examine.
Next, Dirkson called Phil Kestin of the Emergency Medical Service unit, who testified to responding to the call from the 66th Street Station.
“And what time was it when you arrived?” Dirkson asked.
“Approximately 10:55.”
“And what did you find when you arrived?”
“The police and fire departments were already on the scene. The section of the platform had been cordoned off.”
“What section was that?”
“The north end of the uptown platform.”
“And what did you find there?”
“I found the body of a man.”
“Was he alive?”
“He was not.”
“The man was dead?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know he was dead?”
“I examined him.”
“You yourself?”
“That’s right.”
“How did you make that determination? You felt for a pulse and there was none?”
The witness hesitated, frowned, said, “I determined that there was no heartbeat. But in response to your question, I think I have to explain my answer.”
“Certainly,” Dirkson said. “Please explain to the jury in your own words, how you determined the man was dead.”
The medic turned to the jury. He was a young man, with a boyish, open face. His manner radiated sincerity. From Dirkson’s point of view, he was a good witness.
“What you have to understand,” he said, “is the extent of the injuries. The body had been badly burned. It had not just been burned. It had been charred. It was barely recognizable as that of a human being. So to feel for a pulse under those circumstances-well, the question is not really applicable. I determined that there was no heartbeat. I determined that there was no breath. I determined that there was no life. But frankly, one look was enough to see that there couldn’t have been.”
It was effective. Steve Winslow watched the faces of the jurors as the young medic spoke, and he could see that they were shocked and moved as they drank in the horror of the scene.
Dirkson prolonged the effect by pausing a moment before asking, “And did you take the body to the hospital?”
“No, I did not.”
“Why not? Because you’d already determined the man was dead?”
“No, sir. I didn’t have to make that decision.”
“Why not?”
“Because the medical examiner arrived and took over.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Judge Grimes said, “Mr. Winslow?”
“No questions, Your Honor.”
Jeremy Dawson tugged at Steve Winslow’s arm. “Hey man,” he hissed, “aren’t you gonna do anything?”
“Not till it’ll do some good.”
“But-”
“Shhh.”
Dirkson called Robert Oliver of the Crime Scene Unit to the stand. Officer Oliver testified to arriving at the 66th Street Station and processing the crime scene for evidence, which consisted largely of taking pictures.
“And do you have those photographs in court?” Dirkson asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“Would you produce them please?”
“Certainly,” the witness said. He reached in his briefcase and pulled out a file folder of eight-by-ten photographs.
“Object to the pictures,” Jeremy hissed.
“Why?” Steve whispered back.
“They’re gonna piss off the jury.”
“That they are.”
“So object to them.”
“I can’t. They’re legal evidence. They’re admissible.”
“Can’t you even try?”
Steve took a breath. “Look,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “The pictures won’t do you half as much harm as you’re doing yourself by constantly grabbing me by the sleeve and looking like your world just collapsed. Now sit back and shut up. The bottom line is, if we act like we’re afraid to let the jury see those pictures, you might as well change your plea to guilty right now.”
Jeremy glared at Steve, but subsided in his seat.
Judge Grimes, noting the byplay between them, said, “Did Counsel hear the question? The prosecutor has asked that these pictures be marked for identification.”
“May I see them, Your Honor?”
“Certainly,” Dirkson said. He took the pictures, passed them over.
Steve leafed through them. They were truly gruesome. Jeremy, looking at them over Steve’s shoulder, seemed about to say something, but managed to sit still.
Steve handed the pictures back. “No objection, Your Honor. And if the witness will testify that these are indeed the pictures he took, I will stipulate that they may be received in evidence.”
“Very well,” Judge Grimes said. “The photographs may be considered in evidence as People’s Exhibits One A through- what have you got there?” he asked the court reporter, who was marking the photographs.
“One minute,” the court reporter said. “That would be A through K.”
“Fine,” Judge Grimes said. The pictures are now in evidence as People’s Exhibits One A through K.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “With the court’s permission, I would like to show the exhibits to the jury at this time.”
“No objection, Your Honor,” Steve said.
“Very well,” Judge Grimes said. “Bailiff.”
The bailiff took the file of photos, handed them to the first juror, who looked at the top one, pulled it off the stack and passed it along. Within minutes the eleven photos had been spread out and were snaking their way through the twelve jurors and four alternates in the box.
Dirkson watched this with satisfaction. The reaction of the jury was exactly as he had anticipated. Some winced. Some scowled. And by the time they had finished, all of their faces were hard.
When the photographs had been returned, Dirkson again approached the witness.
“Now then,” he said, “did you examine the clothing of the decedent?”
The witness frowned. “Yes and no.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, as you can see by the photographs, the clothing had all but been consumed by fire. I examined what remnants remained.”
“Could you describe them, please?”
“Yes, sir. The decedent had been dressed in a long, heavy overcoat. Most of it had burned away, leaving only the charred outline of the fabric. However, there was a discernible bulge that remained. On investigation it proved to be-or at least at one time had been-a pocket.”
“I see. And was there anything in this pocket?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what was that?”
“The charred remains of what appeared to be a leather object.”
“And did you retrieve that object?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And identify it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what was it?”
“On inspection, it proved to be a wallet.”
“A wallet?”
“Yes.”
“And do you have that wallet here in court?”
“Yes, I do.”
The witness reached into his briefcase again and produced a plastic evidence bag. In it was what might have been a wallet, though it was now impossible to tell.
“I ask that this wallet be marked for identification and received in evidence as People’s Exhibit Two.”
“No objection.”
“So ordered.”
“Now,” Dirkson said. “Did you examine the contents of that wallet?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what did you find?”
“Several papers too charred to be legible, and a gooey mass of what appeared to be plastic.”
“Referring to the gooey mass of plastic-do you know what that proved to be?”