Now it was Cronyn’s turn to stand up and protest.
“This is ridiculous, Judge. I never had that material and I wouldn’t know if the lab returned it or not. To have to sit here and have this sort of allegation—”
“Again, we are in closed session here,” Houghton said. “Let’s stay on point. Mr. Haller, what else do you have?”
“I have a couple more documents here I would like to tender to the Court,” Haller said. “The first is a letter from deputy city attorney Cecil French that confirms that the city has received a complaint for damages from Preston Borders regarding what he says is his false imprisonment for murder following a corrupt investigation by the LAPD. The complaint was filed by Lance Cronyn, attorney at law. The amount of damages being sought is not listed because they never are this early in the game, but common sense dictates that a man allegedly framed for murder by a city employee and sent to death row for almost three decades would be seeking millions of dollars in damages.”
Cronyn started to stand again but Houghton held up a hand like a traffic cop and the lawyer slowly sank back down to his seat. Haller continued.
“Additionally,” he said, “we have here a copy of the visitor log from San Quentin that shows Lance Cronyn has made regular visits to Preston Borders beginning in January of last year.”
“He is his attorney,” Houghton said. “Is there something sinister about an attorney visiting a client in prison, Mr. Haller?”
“Not at all, Your Honor. But in order to visit a death row inmate, you must be his attorney of record. Mr. Cronyn became that as of January of last year, several months before he sent the letter to the Conviction Integrity Unit allegedly clearing his conscience about Olmer’s confession to him.”
Bosch almost smiled. The timing of Cronyn’s beginnings with Borders was proof of nothing, but it certainly smacked of collusion, and the way Haller had walked the judge right into it was perfect. Bosch put his arm up on the empty chair next to him so he could casually glance to his right at Soto and Tapscott. They looked like they were seriously tracking the story Haller was spinning.
“Additionally,” Haller said, “if the motion to intervene is granted, Detective Bosch is prepared to present witnesses who contradict the key elements of the petitioner’s habeas motion. To wit, the petitioner throws the reputation of his trial attorney, Mr. David Siegel, to the wolves, saying that the late Mr. Siegel suborned Mr. Borders’s perjury at trial by telling him to testify that the key piece of evidence found in his apartment — the sea-horse pendant — was not the victim’s but a facsimile he bought on the Santa Monica pier.”
“And you have a witness who contradicts that testimony?” Houghton asked.
“I do, Your Honor,” Haller said. “I have Mr. David Siegel himself, who is willing to contradict the report of his own death as well as the contention that he suborned perjury from his client at the trial in nineteen eighty-eight. He is willing to testify that the entire testimony given by Mr. Borders was concocted by Mr. Borders himself in an attempt to explain away the damning evidence that he was in possession of the victim’s jewelry.”
Kennedy and Cronyn were both quickly to their feet, but Cronyn spoke first.
“Your Honor, this is absurd,” he said. “Even if it is proven that David Siegel is alive, his testimony would be a flagrant violation of attorney-client privilege and completely inadmissible.”
“Judge, I beg to differ with Mr. Cronyn,” Haller said. “Attorney-client privilege was wholly shattered by Mr. Borders when he revealed the inner workings of his trial strategy and sought to impugn the good name and reputation of his attorney in his petition — much as he maligned my client, Detective Bosch. I have in my possession a video proffer — an interview with Mr. Siegel seven days ago that shows him to be alive and sound of mind and defending himself against the slander perpetrated by Mr. Borders and his attorney.”
Haller reached into his pocket and produced a digital-storage stick containing the video in question. He held it up above his head, drawing all eyes in the courtroom to it.
The judge hesitated and then pulled the stemmed microphone closer. Cronyn and Kennedy sat back down.
“Mr. Haller,” Houghton said. “We’re going to hold off on your video for the time being. The Court finds it intriguing, but your fifteen minutes are just about up and this matter comes down to one thing. Olmer’s DNA was found on the victim’s clothing, and there seems to be no dispute about that. That clothing had been sealed in evidence archives for years — years before Mr. Olmer went to trial and Mr. Cronyn may or may not have come into possession of his genetic material, years before Mr. Cronyn ever met Mr. Borders, and years before Mr. Olmer died in prison. Do you have an answer for that? Because if you don’t, then it’s time to move on to a ruling on this matter.”
Haller nodded and looked down at his legal pad. Bosch caught a glimpse of Kennedy in profile and thought that he was smirking, no doubt because he believed Haller had no answer for the DNA’s being in the archive box.
“The Court is correct,” Haller then began. “We do not dispute the finding of DNA on the victim’s clothing. Detective Bosch — and I also — have the utmost belief in the integrity of the LAPD lab. We do not suggest that the results of the analysis are to be doubted. It is our belief that the DNA from Olmer was planted on the clothing prior to its being turned over to the lab.”
Kennedy jumped up again and hotly objected to the implication that there was corruption in either the property control section of the LAPD or the two detectives who reworked the case for the CIU.
“The moves by detectives Soho and Tapscott were well documented and aboveboard,” Kennedy said. “Knowing that desperate people sometimes make desperate claims, they went so far as to video their unsealing of the evidence box themselves in order to document that no tampering had taken place.”
Haller jumped in before the judge could respond.
“Exactly,” he said. “They videoed the whole thing, and if it may please the Court, I would like to play that video as part of my proffer. I have it cued up and ready to go on my laptop, Your Honor. I ask for the Court’s indulgence in extending my time. I can hook up my computer to the screen very quickly.”
He gestured toward the video screen on the wall opposite the jury box. There was a silence as Houghton considered the request, even as others in the courtroom were probably considering how Haller got a copy of the video. Bosch saw Soto sneak a sideways glance at him. He knew he was breaking their unspoken rule of confidentiality. She had not shared the video with him so he could use it in court.
“Set it up, Mr. Haller,” Houghton said. “I’ll consider it part of the proffer.”
Haller turned from the lectern and grabbed his briefcase, which was on the floor in front of the chair next to Bosch. As he opened the briefcase on the chair and retrieved his laptop, he spoke under his breath to Bosch.
“This is it,” he said.
“Like lambs to slaughter, right?” Bosch whispered.
Five minutes later Haller had the video playing on the wall screen. Everyone in the courtroom, including those who had already seen the video multiple times, watched with rapt attention. It ended without reaction from the judge or anyone else.
Haller then passed out copies of an 8 x 10 screen grab from the video to all the parties and the judge, then returned to the lectern.
“I’m going to play the video again but what you have in front of you is a screen grab from the one minute, eleven second mark,” he said.
He started replaying the video and then stopped it, freezing the screen on the moment that Terrence Spencer could be seen watching the two detectives from the next room.