2/9/93
Looks like it was one day down, one day up. Yesterday we spent most of the day on Leslie Ann Noyer's case. The centerpiece of the day was Richard Clark's statement concerning the early morning hours of April 3, 1989. He recounts that he drove around town after getting home from Army Reserve training out in Fairfield. He stopped at the Quick Stop on Santa Clara at Harrison, bought beer and somehow got to 541 Chetwood. In the tape, several parts have been edited out. To maintain my objectivity, I don't think I'll speculate here what the judge ordered edited out. It's really tempting, though, and I'll write about it when appropriate. Clark is sitting on the passenger side of the stolen RX7, yeah, another one...He somehow gets one of the two women "on the street" to come over to his side of the car and perform oral sex with him at gunpoint. He has the Desert Eagle pointed at her as she does this.
He states that he couldn't "get off" because he just wasn't "into it" like that. Somehow an argument ensued between Clark and Noyers, and Clark pumps three bullets in her direction. She falls to the ground, moaning and twitching. Clark stands over her and shoots again. The pictures tell it all...my God, I'm really consumed with anger over the dumb animal thinking that this tape shows. Clark shows no real emotion about it at all. I really don't understand the cold-bloodedness of it. In my court notes I write:
I'm shaking with anger. I've had to sit here all day Monday, looking at the horribly mutilated skull of this young woman, brain tissue out of the body, a life of possibility cut short. That night I go home, turmoil bubbling inside of me like a cauldron. I'm really glad Jan is home. I give her a hug later in the kitchen while fixing dinner, and I shed some tears for this woman I never met. The terrible intimacy of her death forces me to view the possible demise of anybody close to me. Well, I need to chill.2/10/93
Today was much easier to take. We had several interesting moments. The first two witnesses of the Anderson/Lee shooting came forward. Ms. Anderson is a Federal parole officer. She and her friend, Jenelle Lee, were driving back to Anderson's apartment on Jean. They were coming down the hill on Santa Clara and Lee truned briefly, noticing a man walking down the hill. He stopped, raised his hands, and shots pinged into the car, shattering the window. Ms. Anderson simply filled in the details as best she could. When her testimony was finished, she happened to be standing in front of an elarged map of her neighborhood. The DA had just walked back to his table without asking any further questions, so she just strolled off the stand. She hadn't been dismissed, and nobody noticed her leaving until she was past the gate into the gallery. The judge said something like: "Oh by the way, you are dismissed." It really cracked everyone up. Believe me, the tension of this case will create a funny moment whenever one tries to eke through.
The next witness, Jenelle Lee, brought us right back into the here and now. She recounted what she experienced that night, and it was obvious that it was difficult for her still. She bit her words off, becoming snappish with the defense attorneys even at the most innocuous questions. She barely saw the shooter, but gave a pretty fair general description of him. In the lineup that included Stevens held over three months later, though, she identified a different man. Tell the truth, I don't hold that against her. The weight of Stevens' other taped testimony convinces me so far that the gun used in the shooting at Anderson's car was wielded by Stevens. He sits there in court smiling and grinning while Jenelle Lee recounts possibly the worst night of her life. This doesn't help him in my eyes. I'm developing a certain hatred for him.
The last witness today was an older black woman named Mary who first called the police the night the 16-year-old boy was shot. (Loquann Sloan) She had been up late with a cold the night of 6/8/89, and she heard four shots ring out in short order. She went to the window. Seeing nothing, she went to the doorway onto the porch. She then went out onto the porch, leaning over to see the young man lying in a pool of blood on the ground. This woman seemed on the face of it to be a frail old woman, with occasional memory lapses and shaky mannerisms. When the defense doughboy got ahold of her, though, she just set him right in his place. He wanted to clear (muddy?) things up in the chronology of her actions just after the shooting. She corrected him several times, her voice taking on a stern tone whenever she felt he was leading her astray. We all got a kick out of her. It was a nice way to end this day.
We're all human beings here. Well, some only biologically I guess. That "certain hatred" I spoke of came from my reaction to Stevens' totally inappropriate reactions to the testimony. He did this time after time over the course of the trial. Obviously his attorneys didn't know, didn't care, or felt they could do nothing about this. His loss.
Movin' on...
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