Chapter 6- The Defense Calls A Broken Heart
"The defense calls Sara Sidle to the stand your honor"
Sara's stomach clenched at his words. She knew that today was the day she could face her rapist and finally end the nightmare. As Sara was sworn in, she suddenly caught the eyes of the accused and her breath caught. When she was finally seated, the district attorney came before her.
"Can you please tell us your name and occupation for the record."
"Sara Shana Sidle, Criminalistics, Las Vegas Crime Lab."
"Thank you. Ms. Sidle can you look at the defendant Todd Wolfstein? Now can you tell us Ms. Sidle, do you recognize him as your attacker?"
"No sir."
"And why is that please?"
"Uh, I never saw his face. I was r-raped while I was unconscious." Sara tried hard to swallow the tremble in her voice.
"Your honor I would like to enter Ms. Sidle's statement the day she was assaulted May 24th, 1994. Ms. Sidle could you read the last paragraph of your statement for the jury, starting here if you will."
"The man was very strong and as we entered my apartment, I felt a pinch to my arm, then I blacked out. I awoke to officers in the room. I can't remember anything else."
"I would like the jury to look at the this photograph your honor. A photo taken by John Gregorio lead CSI of the San Francisco police department.
The evidence was admitted and handed to the jury. The same picture handed to Sara. She recognized it immediately.
"Ms. Sidle, can you identify this photo?"
"It's the tattoo now on my right breast, it was there after I was attacked."
"Ms. Sidle are you left or right handed?"
"Objection your honor, which hand the witness uses isn't relevant to the tattoo in question."
"Your honor I'm making a line between this witness and the prosecution's victim. Please bare with me."
"Over-ruled, you may answer the question."
"Right handed."
"Your honor if I can indulge you to grant me a visual test."
"Granted Mr. Macon, proceed."
"Thank you. Now Ms. Sidle with your left hand can you point to the origin of your tattoo?"
Sara did as she was told.
"Thank you, now can you take this paper and hold it over the area of your tattoo. So the jury can see, there is an exact replica drawn on this paper. Now Ms. Sidle can you trace the skull with this pen, using your right hand?"
Sara tried but for some reason she couldn't get the correct angle and slipped several times.
"I can't trace it, I would need to use my left hand."
"Let the record state that the evidence shows the suspect sat behind Ms. Sidle, his arm around her neck, and made the tattoo from that angle. As the jury can see the suspect would have to use their left hand to draw the tattoo at that angle from where he sat. The defendant is missing the thumb on his left hand, making this impossible. No further questions your honor."
"Does the prosecution have any questions?" The judge boomed from his chair.
Sara looked out over the courtroom. A familiar face sat in the back. The grey-haired man was Robert Cavallo, head of the LVCSI unit. When he retired Ecklie had taken over.
"No questions your honor."
Sara kept looking at the defendant; he had a slight resemblance to Chevy Chase, with blonde hair. She kept looking at him, hoping that something about him triggered a memory, but she only felt empty. It took her several moments before she realized the judge asked her to step down.
"With no further witnesses we will begin closing arguments after lunch. We will recess until 1:00pm. Court is adjourned."
Sara left the witness stand and made her way to the back where Cavallo stood.
"Bob it's strange seeing you here. How is retirement?"
"It works, I'm enjoying a lot of time here in California. If you recall I was the Captain of the SFPD on your case. I was here to testify."
"What's your take on the guy?"
"Sara it's always been my experience that crooks can outsmart even themselves. Forensic science has come a long way since I began in law enforcement. I think the prosecution had a strong case against him, but the defense crushed that with you."
"All I proved was that the tattoo wasn't made at that angle."
"Well considering the guy is missing the left thumb, it throws a wrench into it. The jury will take it from there"
"I'm going to visit my mom so I'll see you later."
"Take care Sara."
Sara got in her rental car, a 2004 Ford Explorer and left for the Inn. The ache in her gut was growing. A feeling she couldn't shake. Slowly the black Mercedes pulled out behind her. Phase one was complete.
Grissom drove into Locutus Falls at 1:18pm. A little later than he had hoped for but he was there just the same. The drive was gruesome, even though it only took 2 hours to get there, he was overcome with thoughts. He played out every memory of Sara he could conceive but nothing led him to her decision. Finally tired of thinking he grabbed a CD from his case. Greg had made the CD for him for his birthday the previous year. It was his attempt at converting Grissom to the "new wave" of music. All Grissom knew was that whatever it was, was loud and obnoxious. Considering the source, it sounded like a good idea. Marilyn Manson poured out of the speakers.
The
drugs they say
Make
us feel so hollow
We
love in vain
Narcissistic
and so shallow
The
cops and queers
To
swim you have to swallow
Hate
today
No
love for tomorrow
Grissom chuckled to himself seeing Greg dancing to this song. He was surprised further when he was reaching to turn it up. After the first few refrains, he was signing the chorus line.
There's
lots of pretty, pretty ones
Who
want to get you high
But
all the pretty, pretty ones
Will
leave you low
And
blow your mind
All in all the CD wasn't half bad. Greg wasn't entirely eccentric and he was even surprised to hear Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival. By the time he pulled onto the dirt road leading to the mill, Grissom felt a little better. He pulled to the back, where the tiny house stood and got out.
Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, Grissom walked to the front door and into the house. Originally it was a bunkhouse for some of the mill workers who occupied it year round. The seasonal bunkhouse had burned down during a storm when some stranded vagrants had broken in and made a fire. Now the small house was all that was left.
There were 2 rooms that at one time had held four beds each. The 3rd room was made into a small living room with a couch, a recliner, a radio, and a small woodstove. The kitchen was only large enough to cook in, so an enclosed patio was made to eat in and smoke tabacco. Grissom loved this place. He had spent so much time here, fishing in the stream, collecting and studying bugs, and camping in the forest. This was home to him and he never wanted to share it with anyone.
But unfortunately time had brought not just gray hair to his temples or paunch to his slender stomach but a quiet ache that had grown. No longer could he enjoy the solitude he once treasured. When he came to the mill, Sara came with him, her smile, her scent, her laughter, her very image followed him from dawn till dusk. He knew that he had to let her go, but how could he? Even though he thought they would never be together, the happiness of possibilities always warmed him. Now she had placed finality on him. He walked outside and began the long walk to Sara's house.