Dirkson paused and let that sink in. “Several million dollars. Was there ever a more convincing motive for murder?”
Dirkson smiled and set the will back down on the table. “But that’s the least of the evidence. We have the testimony of Carl Jenson, who saw the defendant on the very afternoon of the murder at approximately five-thirty. We know that that was after Jack Walsh had written the will. How do we know that? We know that by the will itself, which Jack Walsh not only dated, but also put in the time of execution. And what was that time? Two-thirty in the afternoon. Before Carl Jenson saw the defendant, Jeremy Dawson.
“And what words did Jeremy Dawson say to Carl Jenson at that time? You recall the testimony. Jeremy Dawson smiled and said, ‘You be nice to me, Carl, ’cause I’m gonna be rich.’”
Dirkson paused a moment to let that sink in, then picked up the pace. “When is the next time we spot Jeremy Dawson? Well, we have the testimony of Martin Steers that at approximately seven o’clock a young man with green hair was seen breaking into Teaneck High School. Admittedly, the witness does not identify Jeremy Dawson as being that boy. He is an honest, credible witness and he tells us only what he saw. And what he saw is for you to judge. Was that boy Jeremy Dawson? You can draw your own conclusions.
“And to help you draw them, you should consider what happened next. At approximately ten-thirty that evening in Manhattan, Jack Walsh was shot and killed in the very subway station in the very spot where earlier that afternoon he had taken Jeremy Dawson and written out the will. And what gun shot and killed Jack Walsh? We have the testimony of the ballistics expert that the gun that fired the fatal bullet was the gun discovered by detectives the following day in the high school locker of Jeremy Dawson.”
Dirkson smiled and spread his hands. “Does that help you draw your conclusions any? The murder gun was kept in Jeremy Dawson’s locker. At seven o’clock on the evening of the murder, a boy with green hair was seen breaking into the high school, the high school where the murder weapon was kept. The high school where the murder weapon was found. Jeremy Dawson’s high school. Jeremy Dawson’s locker. Jeremy Dawson’s gun.
“Now,” Dirkson said, “you may ask, as I myself did, why did Jeremy Dawson hang onto the gun? It was the murder weapon, it could convict him, why would he keep it?” Dirkson held up his hand. “It is not sufficient to say that the defendant is not very bright. The explanation is that he wanted it, that he felt he might need it. Why? Well, there is evidence in this case that in Jeremy Dawson’s locker along with the gun there was drug paraphernalia and several vials of crack. I leave it to you to figure out why the defendant might have wanted a gun.
“At any rate, he wanted to keep it. And because he wanted to keep it, he attempted to disguise his crime. And how did he do that? The testimony of the witnesses who were on the subway platform that night, as well as the lab analysis of the material left over from the clothes of the decedent, gives us the answer. And what is the answer?” Dirkson shook his head. “He set the body on fire. He poured gasoline on Jack Walsh’s body and set the body on fire. A wholly despicable act, and hard to comprehend, and yet there was a motivation. In fact there were two. One, he wanted to disguise the crime by making it look like a random act of violence, a wilding incident. And two, he wanted the body burned so the bullet wound would go undiscovered. Which would have happened, had it not been for the thoroughness and skill of the medical examiner.
“But the bullet wound was discovered. The bullet was retrieved. And the bullet matches absolutely with test bullets fired from the gun found in Jeremy Dawson’s locker.
“And what does all this evidence show? I will summarize it briefly for you. On the afternoon of February 26th, Jack Walsh sought out Jeremy Dawson at his high school. He took him to New York, took him down in the subway, and wrote him out a will, leaving all of his money to him.
“Jeremy Dawson left Jack Walsh and went home with the will in his pocket. He had the afternoon to think it over. To mull on it. To come to the one conclusion to which he eventually came. That if Jack Walsh were to die, he would be rich.
“Jeremy Dawson went home. He encountered Carl Jenson, had an argument with him. He went upstairs, showered and changed. By the time he came back downstairs it was clear the plan had already formed in his mind. We know that from those telling parting words: You be nice to me, Carl, ’cause I’m gonna be rich.
“Jeremy Dawson left home and went to his high school. He broke in the side door and got the gun. He took the gun, went to Manhattan, hunted up Jack Walsh in the subway station, and fired a bullet into his brain.
“He then set the body on fire, and returned to Teaneck, arriving home around twelve-thirty in the morning.
“The only thing I don’t know, ladies and gentlemen,” Dirkson said, “is whether he broke into the high school that night to return the gun to his locker, or whether he brought it to school when he went to class the following morning.” Dirkson held up his finger and smiled. “But that, ladies and gentlemen, is the only thing we don’t know. Everything else is abundantly clear. Jeremy Dawson killed Jack Walsh. A cold-blooded, premeditated murder for profit.
“Your duty is clear, and I will leave you to it. And that duty is to bring back a verdict of guilty as charged.”
With that, Dirkson bowed to the jury, and with a triumphant smile, walked back to his table and sat down.
43
Steve Winslow looked small. Maybe it was just after the bulk of Dirkson that made him look that way. But maybe not. Maybe it was the fact that nobody was really giving him their full attention. Maybe it was the fact that Dirkson’s argument had been so persuasive that the verdict was a foregone conclusion, and nothing he could say could possibly make any difference, so why should anyone listen to him?
Steve Winslow stood in the front of the courtroom, a strange-looking figure in his corduroy jacket, blue jeans, and long hair. He stood and waited patiently for the buzz among the spectators to subside, for the reporters to stop scribbling, for the jurors to stop looking at one another and turn their heads to him.
Suddenly he clapped his hands together and spread them wide. He struck a pose, became an actor, a showman, smiling, raising his voice and commanding their attention rather than requesting it.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said. “I just heard District Attorney Harry Dirkson’s closing argument, and I thought it was great. And I’m sure you did too. And I have a feeling that a number of you find that argument convincing and think the defendant is guilty.”
Steve smiled and held up his finger. “Which is why I’d like to remind you that you can’t think that yet. Because you haven’t heard my closing argument. After you’ve heard it, if you still think Jeremy Dawson is guilty, then it is both your right and your duty to do so. But I ask you to fulfill your duty as jurors and please bear with me, even though right now you may personally feel it’s not going to do any good.”
Steve smiled slightly. “I take it you all noticed that I did not put on a defense.” Steve held up his hand, turned, pointed to the judge. “Now, Judge Grimes is going to instruct you that in a murder trial the burden of proof is on the prosecution, and the defendant is under no obligation to put on any defense, nor is he under any obligation to take the stand to deny his participation in the crime. Judge Grimes will further instruct you that his failure to do so must in no way be considered by you to be an indication of guilt, that you should put it from your minds, give it no weight and not let it affect your deliberations in the least.”