A Reasonable Doubt Susan Sloan (chrysanthemum read aloud TXT) 📖

tell the jury where you are employed and what the duties of your job consist of?”

“I work for the Port Hancock Disposal Company,” Grigsby replied.  “I collect the garbage.”

“And how long have you worked for the company?”

“Going on fifteen years.”

“Now, will you tell the jury where you were at approximately ten minutes past six on the morning of Monday, February 10th, of this year?”

“My driver and I were in our truck, and we were picking up garbage, same as always.”

“Was there anything different that occurred on that morning?”

“There sure was,” Grigsby attested.  “We were heading down the Broad Street alley, like always on Monday mornings, and we were almost at The Last Call, getting ready to make our regular pick-up, when we spotted something in the middle of the alley up ahead of us.”

“And what did you do?” John Henry wanted the jury to know.

“Well, we didn’t know what it was at first,” the witness said.  “But whatever it was, we didn’t want to run over it, so we stopped the truck and got out to have a look.  It was still dark, and it was foggy, too, but the headlights on the truck were good enough for us to see.  And what it was, lying there, was a body -- the body of a guy, and he was dead.”

“Did you touch the body?”

“No way,” Grigsby declared.  “But we got close enough to tell he wasn’t going anywhere.”

“How did you determine that?”

“He was lying on his side, but he was like sort of stiff, you know, not relaxed like someone is who’s just sleeping it off, and his eyes were open, and he was staring straight ahead into nowhere, and he wasn’t blinking, and he wasn’t breathing.”

“What did you do then?”

“Called the cops, of course.  And then hightailed it right out of there.”

Members of the jury couldn’t help but smile at the witness’s candor, and some of the less restrained spectators in the gallery giggled.

“Thank you, Mr. Grigsby,” John Henry said, hiding his own smile as best he could.   “I have no further questions.”

“Does the defense wish to cross-examine the witness?” Judge Pelletier inquired.

Lily didn’t try to hide her smile.  “No, Your Honor,” she said.  “I think Mr. Grigsby has told us all he can.”

. . .

Paul Cady was next to testify.  The five-year veteran of the Port Hancock Police Department looked nervous, which may have been understandable given it was the first time he had been called on to testify in a homicide case.

“Officer Cady,” John Henry began, “will you tell the jury something about yourself?”

“Yes, sir,” Cady said, turning to face the jury.  “I come from the Tri-Cities area.  My parents still live there.  I have three brothers and two sisters.  They still live there, too.  I’m twenty-five years old.  I’m not married.  I have a certificate in criminal justice and law enforcement.  I’ve been with the Department for five years.  This is my first job.  I never wanted to be anything but a police officer.”

He stopped, looking at the prosecutor, as if to ask whether he had said enough.  The jurors smiled.

“Thank you, Officer Cady,” John Henry said.  “I think that gives us all a pretty good idea of who you are.  Now, can you tell us, please, what your duties as a police officer entail?”

“I’m a patrolman,” Cady replied.  “I have a partner.  When we’re on duty, it’s our job to patrol around the city, making sure that folks are safe and don’t need any help, and we’re also looking for any suspicious activity.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘suspicious’ activity?”

“We usually look for evidence of crimes, like break-ins, vandalism -- that sort of thing,” Cady explained.  “And we take note of people who maybe aren’t where they should be, or who are maybe doing things they shouldn’t be doing.”

“According to police records, you and your partner were on the midnight to eight shift on February 10th of this year,” John Henry continued.  “Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And where exactly were you and your partner at approximately six-twenty-five that morning?”

“My partner and I were responding to a call from lower Broad Street, near the docks.”

“Who had placed the call?”

“I believe it came from an employee with the local garbage company.”

“And what was the call about?”

“We were told it was about a body that had been found in the alley behind Broad Street, not too far from the dock, and right across from the back entrance to The Last Call Bar and Grill.”

“And what happened when you responded to that call, and went into that alley?”

“We found Detective Scott there,” the police officer replied.  “That is -- we found his body.  He was deceased.”

“Will you please describe for the jury the condition that the body was in when you found it?” John Henry prompted.

“Well, he was lying, kind of on his side, with his knees bent, in the middle of the alley, in a puddle of blood.  We could see he’d been shot in the head.  We could tell he was dead, because his body was stiff -- and it was cold and it was a little damp, too.”

“What did you do?”

“We called headquarters and told them we needed the M.E. -- I mean, the medical examiner -- to come quick,” Cady replied, “and we asked for the crime scene investigators, too.”

“And then?”

“And then, we started looking for anyone who could help us.”

“Help you?”

“We went looking for someone who might have been a witness, who could maybe tell us what had happened.”

“And what did you find?”

“We found the defendant.”

“Will you tell the jury what the circumstances were of your finding the defendant?”

“Well, it never occurred to us that someone who had just killed a police officer would hang around the scene of the crime, so when we found the Indian asleep in his box, we were hoping maybe he had seen something.  We didn’t realize that he would turn out to be the killer.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Lily said mildly.  “The witness is offering an