If You Really Loved Me Part 9

Ellen was surprised to see David himself come into the bank that very day. He explained that the automatic teller machine wasn't working and that he needed cash to pay for Linda's funeral services. He returned later to make another withdrawal. "He looked like he was carved of stone," Ellen remembered. "There were tears in his eyes though."

Ellen offered to take care of Krystal during the funeral services, but then her own grandmother died suddenly that same day, and she had to renege. She sent a sympathy card to the Brown family.

As spring gave way to summer, David was in the Home Savings bank often. He always asked for Ellen and waited until she was free to handle his banking.

Despite his personal tragedy, his financial picture grew brighter than ever. David Brown deposited several insurance checks, and one was for a large amount, somewhere well over $200,000a"closer to $350,000.

Curious that Linda Brown, a housewife, had been insured for so much, Ellen asked David why that should be. David answered that Linda had known all about his data recovery business, and she had been essential to it. The insurance was to help him rebuild his staff. He would have to find several people to replace Linda. Even so, he would never be able to find anyone as brilliant.

Ellen had always found Linda sweeta"and friendly. But she would never have called her "brilliant" or pictured her as the indispensable person in a sophisticated computer firm.

David was seldom alone when he came into the bank. Patti Bailey was usually with hima"just as Linda had once followed quietly behind him. Patti cashed checks each week, checks signed by David in amounts ranging from $300 to $500.

Her younger sister resembled the dead woman so much it was spooky. Moreover, Ellen noticed that Patti was wearing clothes and jewelry that she had once seen on Linda. Patti carried Linda's baby as if it were her baby.

It was almost as if Linda had never existed at all.

Despite Patti's omnipresence, the bank teller was startled to realize that David Brown's att.i.tude toward her was changing. He began to speak to Ellen in a more familiara" somehow intimatea"manner. Incredulous, Ellen realized that the tubby little man who looked old enough to be her father was "coming on" to her. He even asked her to come to his home at night and visita"and she quickly refused.

She was vastly relieved when Brown moved from Garden Grove and seldom visited her bank branch anymore. Nevertheless, she ducked out of sight every time he did come in, and she asked other tellers to handle his cash transactions.

Much of the private speculation about David Brown would not reach the ears of either the Garden Grove police or the Orange County District Attorney's Office for a long time. David Brown frightened some people, and he convinced others that they were only imagining demons where there were none. All in all, there was a reluctance to become involved in his life.

David and Patti and the baby packed up and left Ocean Breeze Drive. David's pattern of living only a short time in one spot continued. The first move was to a rental house at 2041 Breckenridge in Orange. It sat on a one-block street, a hundred yards from the freeway, a nice little house, shrouded by shrubs and trees just as David's last house had been. They would not live there long.

Even though the very detectives who were gathering evidence and witnesses against Cinnamon Brown all felt "hinky" about the casea"nagged by a chill presentiment that they were hunting down a rabbit when a coyote lurked nearbya"they knew their jobs were never meant to be ruled by feelings.

They had virtually nothing tangible that might lead them anywhere but to Cinnamon Brown as the killer of Linda Marie Brown.

There was one element, however, that seemed curious. Antimony is the primer used in the cartridge of a bullet. When a gun is fired, the nitrocellulose that creates the accompanying gases also releases the component of the primer; 90 to 100 percent of it exits the muzzle. Linda Brown, for instance, had significant deposits of antimony on her hands. That was to be expected; she took the full blasts from the muzzle of the gun. A small percentage of antimony may escape through the mechanical openings of the gun. If it does, it is deposited on the shooter's hands.

There are two tests criminalists use to determine the presence of antimony, barium, and lead, both with names so esoteric that they boggle the layman's mind: "atomic absorption test" and the "scanning electron microscopy examination" (SCMEDX). To do a proper test for antimony, two tests must be done in sequencea"tape lifts first, and then swabbing. Sgt. John Woods and Crime Scene Investigator Bill Morrissey had correctly performed the tests on the living subjectsa"David Brown, Patti Bailey, and Cinnamon Brown. GSR tests had proved positive for the presence of antimony (albeit at low levels) on both David Brown and Patti Bailey, and negative on Cinnamon.

But any criminalist who knew his stuff could explain that away in a courtroom. Cinnamon had lain all night in vomit and urine; any gunshot residue on her hands would have been obliterated. Patti didn't remember handling the gun that Cinnamon held out to her for instructions, but she might have forgotten touching it in the shock of the aftermath. Beyond that, other activitiesa"even smoking a cigarettea"can leave traces of antimony.

It was not enough to outweigh a detailed confession. And Cinnamon had confessed to Fred McLean and Pam French. Indeed, there was even a written confession, her suicide note, quite literally tied up with a ribbon bow.

Orange County deputy district attorney Mike Maguire took over the prosecution of Cinnamon Browna"with Jay Newell a.s.sisting as his investigator. For Newell, this would be only one case among many, he would do his usual thorough job of investigation, then move on to the next homicide.

Cinnamon's trial was to be in Central Courta"Orange County's courthouse in Santa Ana. Building 30 in the new complex on Flower and Civic Center Drive is a mini-skysc.r.a.per of a courthouse. Palm trees and a cascade of Pfitzer's juniper crowd close to the circular driveway off Civic Center Drive. Beyond that, those who have business in the courthouse approach the building along the shaded walkway leading to the main entrance. The shallow reflecting pool to the left of the walk, only inches deep, affords the illusion of coolnessa"even when the baking Santa Ana winds blow in.

Only those who know the Orange County Courthouse intimately are aware of the hidden little jungle that flourishes there. Outside the ground floor of the DA's office, wild rabbits skitter through the underbrush. Feral cats and their kittens exist there too. Although the former sometimes fall victim to the latter, most of the creatures do very nicely with handouts from soft-hearted courthouse employees and food tossed aside by litterers.

Cinnamon would be tried in Judge Robert Fitzgerald's Superior Courtrooma"not as an adult, but as a juvenile. The State of California v. Cinnamon Darlene Brown, Case Number J-123914. She had no true sense of what was happening; she still expected to go home.

And perhaps she would. The prosecution's case against Cinnamon Brown received a seemingly fatal blow when A1 Forgette's motion to have Cinnamon's confessions to police officers thrown out received a favorable ruling. Forgette argued that Cinnamon had been under the influence of painkillers and other medications when she talked so freely to Fred McLean in the Garden Grove Police Department, and later, to Officer Pam French in the ambulance. Since Cinnamon lapsed into near-unconsciousness before McLean's interrogation could be completed and had to be rushed to the hospital, Forgette thought her condition spoke for itself.

So there it was. The only real suspect in Linda Brown's murder had, in the eyes of the law, made no confession. There was no physical evidence linking Cinnamon irrevocably to the shooting, and no eyewitness. Cinnamon was very close to walking away free.

Jay Newell went over and over the case file, looking for some crack in the defense's armor. And yet even as he worked, he felt ambivalent. He suspected that their investigation had only sc.r.a.ped away the patina of the real case that existed beneatha"impenetrable from every angle they had tried so far. Until he could find the key to the case within the case, he knew he had to move ahead with his support of the prosecution of the visible case. And that meant convicting Cinnamon. If Cinnamon Brown should be acquitted, she would undoubtedly go back into her father's home.

Jay Newell did not want that to happen. Something was wronga"but he could not put into words just what it was.

Newell hunched over the medical records from the Garden Grove Medical Center and then from the University of California Medical Center-Irvine: the cla.s.sic doctors' scribbles, so consistently illegible that he figured it had to be a black art taught in med schoola"symbols, medications, times, dates, temperatures, fluids in and fluids out. His eyes blurred as he tried to make sense of it.

He could see that Cinnamon Brown had been one sick kid, and that she had been given more stuff to swallow and inhale that made hera"at least initiallya"sicker. As he turned the pages of medical gobbledygook, he saw that she had improved steadily.

Newell set aside the Garden Grove Medical Center records and turned to those from UCI. As he read down the s.h.i.+ny copier paper, he suddenly came across sections that he could easily read. Precise notes in a careful hand. The notes reproduced almost word for word the confession Cinnamon Brown had given to Fred McLean. Odd. Newell wondered how part of a confidential police file could end up in medical records.

He turned the page curiously and saw the initials "K.H." at the bottom of the first entry detailing Cinnamon's statements. And Jay Newell realized to his growing fascination that this was not the actual confession Cinnamon had given to McLeana"this was original with the writer. He looked further into the records, found more revelations from Cinnamon to "K.H.," and finally, the name Kimberly Hicks.

Kimberly Hicks, whoever she was, might just have pulled the State's case out of oblivion.

Newell went to the University of California Medical Center and asked to talk to Kimberly "Kim" Hicks. He found that she was a third-year medical student who had spent a good deal of time with Cinnamon Brown in the custodial ward of the facility. Kim Hicks was on call during the night s.h.i.+ft when Cinnamon Brown was transferred in. Cinnamon Brown had needed to talka"and Kim had been there to listen.

When Newell talked to the med student, she explained that she tried to be careful in keeping up the medical history on her patients. If it was her turn to "present" to the attending physician, she wanted to be as accurate and thorough as she could. And part of her evaluation would be based on how well she kept up her charts. Then again, Cinnamon Brown's case was fascinating both as a medical management problem and as a psychological study.

Kim Hicks had listened as Cinnamon talked, but she had been cautious not to inject her own opinions. And then, along with notes on Cinnamon's medical progress, Kim had written down Cinnamon's confession to murder.

The prosecution had its case back.

Cinnamon had her fifteenth birthday in Juvenile Hall on July 3, 1985. Her trial for first-degree murder began on August 7.

Cinnamon had not been home for a long time, not since Fred McLean led her out of the doghouse in that March dawn five months before. She wasn't sure where her father and the baby were living now. She figured probably Patti had gone home to the Bailey family in Riverside.

Cinnamon knew nothing of all the changes that had taken place. She missed Krystal, and she was disappointed that she hadn't gotten to see the baby take her first steps. She missed going to the beach and watching the surfers. She missed listening to New Wave music. Only last July, the worst trouble she had gotten into was ditching summer school to run away to the beach.

She missed her mom and Krista Taber. She missed Linda, and then remembered they kept telling her that Linda was dead. That didn't seem real. She missed her dad, and she didn't understand why he couldn't come to see her more often.

Cinnamon didn't know that Patti was still with David and the baby, and that Linda's memory was steadily being eraseda"no, not erased, supplanted. Cinnamon didn't know that Patti had carefully taken all of Linda's pictures out of their frames .. . and replaced them with her own likeness.

Jay Newell hurried to Deputy DA Mike Maguire to let him know that they might have something up their legal sleeves. Even though Cinnamon's original confessions were now excluded, he had a witness for Maguire: Kim Hicks.

All California juvenile trials are held before a judge, without a jury. Judge Fitzgerald would decide if Cinnamon was guilty or innocent. If she should be deemed responsible for her stepmother's death, A1 Forgette was prepared to argue that Cinnamon had not been mentally competent at the time of the "incident." Forgette, aware that Kim Hicks was waiting in the wings to repeat Cinnamon's confession, had little choice. Cinnamon faced Judge Fitzgerald with a plea of not guilty to a charge of murder by reason of insanity. She still insisted she had a complete loss of memory for that period in March when Linda had died.

Forgette requested a closed courtroom. Motion denied.

Neither Forgette nor Mike Maguire made an opening statement.

Maguire called his first witness against Cinnamona"Patti Bailey. Cinnamon seemed stunned, confused. This was the girl who had been her "sister."

Patti described Cinnamon as her niecea"which, technically, she was. She identified Cinnamon as "the girl in the light blue s.h.i.+rt" sitting at the defense table and recounted the "misunderstandings" Cinny had had with Linda over ch.o.r.es. These, Patti testified, had progressed to "arguments. When there were arguments, I usually left the room because I didn't feel I had a right to be there."

Patti was soft-spoken, almost demure. She had difficulty understanding big words and often asked Maguire to rephrase his questions, saying, "I don't understand what that means."

So far, Patti wasn't a d.a.m.ning witness. She identified Cinnamon's printing, and her own, from letters and poems in evidence.

Maguire moved on to March 19, 1985. Patti Bailey said she remembered that day dimly. But as Maguire questioned her, she seemed to have most precise recall. Her recital of the events of the murder night was the same as she had told detectives. She spoke in a soft voice and trembled noticeably.

Patti could no longer remember when she had heard the first shot, but refreshed her memory by looking at the police report. Yes, now she recalled she had looked at her luminous clock and seen 2:23.

With further questioning, there began to be slight, ever-so-slight, changes in Patti Bailey's memory. She now recalled seeing David come home and head for the master bedroom, and that she had called, "David, something went wrong," instead of "something happened."

As far as his reaction, he said, she now remembered, "Calm down and sit down. I'll go call the police."

Mike Maguire had to help Patti remember that David had asked her to go look for Cinnamon. "I tried to find her, but I was too upset. ... I looked at my bedroom, the bathrooms, the ... and then the laundry room. ... I just knocked on her trailer door, and there was no answer. And I figured either she was asleep or she wasn't in there."

Patti testified, crying as she did so, that Cinnamon had been "moody" and "depressed" in the weeks before the shooting. She recalled skirmishes over ch.o.r.es and school attendance between Linda and Cinnamon, but said she had never heard Cinny say she hated Linda. Rather, she could remember any number of times when Cinny and Linda had hugged each other.

Responding to Maguire's questions, Patti attempted to trace the family's makeup and the many moves they had made, the comings and goings of Cinnamon. Her answers were short, sometimes just a dull "Uh-huh." She said that she, as well as Cinnamon, had looked upon Linda as their mothera"even though Linda was only twenty-three.

Could Linda be threatening, Maguire asked, extremely angry at Cinnamon?

"When Linda was in a bad mood, she got upset with everyone; but we all learned how to handle it."

Patti remembered that it was "agreed by both of them [Linda and Cinnamon] that Cinnamon would go out there [to the trailer]," but she would not say that this agreement had come at a time when Cinny had argued with Linda over ch.o.r.es.

Patti Bailey was not a particularly effective witness for the State, nor would she be for the defense. A1 Forgette elicited a recounting of the night of the shooting from Patti, but she seemed less sure of every detail than she had been in March. The figure she had seen in her doorwaya"the figure she was so sure was Cinnamon who had fired at hera"was now only a "silhouette." She had connected the "silhouette" with the sound of gunfire, but she was no longer nearly as sure that it had been Cinnamon.

Earlier, when she had showed Cinnamon how to fire the gun, she was positive she had not touched it. No, she told Forgette, she had not been concerned enough that Cinnamon was walking around with a gun to tell anyone, or warn anyone. She went to sleep easily, with no worries.

Yes, Cinnamon had been "upset, depressed, like something was bugging her or something." But then, Patti testified, Cinnamon had been getting moodier since maybe January or February.

Pressed for some specific example of Cinnamon's moodinessa"even her possible drug usea"Patti thought hard.

Noa"no drugs, ever. "Just depression and upset and like . .. and like the world was going to come to an end. You know, how people look when they're on drugs or something, they look like they don't have a care in the world."

"And that's the way she struck you?" Forgette asked.

Patti shook her head; she was sure Cinnamon had been very, very depressed, and not happya"as drug users appeared.

Patti Bailey had a certain flatness of expression, an inability to describe her own emotions. Yes, she had been frightened. Yes, she had been apprehensive. Yes, she had been agitated and crying. But the descriptive phrases came from Forgette and Patti only agreed.

Patti's recall now made David's actions on the murder night sound braver. He had been in charge, calling the police, calming her down. She had apparently forgotten his panic, his pleading call to his father.

And now, five months later, Maguire could not shake Patti by letting her read her earlier statements that she was sure the shooter was Cinnamon. "I wasn't sure it was Cinnamon. I didn't know who it was."

"Are you trying to protect Cinnamon now?"

"No."

Jay Newell sat in the back of the small courtroom, observing Patti Bailey as she testified, and the reaction of the spectators in the gallery. It almost seemed as if she were trying to smooth everything over. David Brown emerged sounding nearly courageous, and the shooter was no longer Cinnamona"only a vague, blurry silhouette. The witness Newell had tracked down himselfa"Kim Hicksa"was coming through the door, prepared to testify against Cinnamon. He should feel good. Then why did he have such an emptiness in the gut? Why did he catch himself looking again and again at the small figure huddled at the defense table, her face a mask of pain and disbelief?

"Call Kim Hicks!"

The young, black soon-to-be doctor explained that she remembered well the three A.M. call she had received to report to the custodial ward on March 20, 1985.

Kim Hicks had found Cinnamon in beda"shackled to the beda"still nauseated, but alert and well oriented. Hicks said she had asked Cinnamon why she had taken the pills. "She explained first of all that she had shota"she had shot someone, okay? And it was said that it was her stepmother and that she shot her twice."

"Did she say what she dida"if anythinga"after she shot her stepmother?" Maguire asked.

"After she did that, she said she went to her father's drawer and took some pills out. . . . She said she took one whole bottleful, and the other bottle. . . . They fell and she took some of those and somehow she had a gla.s.s of water and she took those; she took the pills that she had."

Maguire showed Kim Hicks her original records and she scanned them, nodding. "Right... okay. That's my writing. She stated she ingested about eighty pills from one bottle and an unknown number of pills from two other bottles."

Cinnamon had told the medical student that she shot her stepmother about three A.M. She had shot her once and then heard her crying out, "Help me! It hurts!" At that point, she had returned to Linda's room and shot her once more. This time, there had been no sound from Linda. Cinnamon told Hicks she had waited half an hour and then gone out to the doghouse.

In answer to Maguire, Hicks added, "She went out to the doghouse and she wasa"she slowly just became sick, you know, and she started vomiting. And she remembers urinating on herself, and just progressively got sicker, heard sirens. No one came and found her or anything like that. She heard the sirens leave and she was still there in the doghouse until later the police came back."

Over the next few days, Hicks had had occasion to spend quite a bit of time with Cinnamon.

"Did Cinnamon indicate to you during this 'small talk' any reason for shooting her stepmother?" Maguire asked.

"She did, and even on the night of admission she told us why she did it.. . . She said she didn't know what else to do. Her stepmother had threateneda"had told her that she had to leave, that she can't stay there anymore, and they had been arguing that night and specifically that her father was home; he heard the argument. He left, said he couldn't take it anymore. Then he left and they stopped arguing. And that they just basically hadn't been getting along."

Most of the story was familiar. Hicks repeated Cinnamon's alleged fear that Linda wasn't taking care of Krystal, not paying attention to her when she cried. "She was more scared and concerned. Sorta she didn't seem real angry about ita"more confused."

But this was, again, a little different version of the night of March 19. David had said he left after the girls and Linda were all in bed. But Cinnamon had told Kim Hicks that David had stomped out because he couldn't "take it anymore," all the arguing and bickering. If David Brown knew how explosive emotions were at home, why had he driven off into the night?

A1 Forgette questioned Kim Hicks carefully. Why had she spent so much time listening and questioning Cinnamon about the murder?

"That's part of the social history."

Hicks explained that, at first, Cinnamon had seemed very frightened and murmured, "Gosh, what do you think's going to happen to me?" and "I shouldn't have done it," but she grew quieter and more introspective as the days pa.s.sed. Hicks said she had tried to comfort her patient, saying, "I just told her it would be all right, you know and justa"it was more supportive than that, more supportive."