Author: Tonya

Today marked the beginning of the defense case with testimony by police officer Michael Carey, who was in the unmarked minivan with Detective Oliver. (Officer Carey is uncharged; Det. Oliver is one of the two officers charged with manslaughter. For the record, Carey and Oliver are white; the other three officers who fired their weapons are black.) Carey seemed honest and was well-spoken, and seemed to have a pretty clear memory of the events. His account made Lt. Napoli, the one in charge of the whole operation, look totally negligent, while exonerating defendant Det. Isnora. From his point of view, it looked to Carey as if Bell’s car had intentionally tried to run over Isnora, both when it first went forward, then when it backed up. He said he thought this because of the path the car took.

Carey, 27, has been an officer for 6 years, having mainly served routine uniformed foot patrol until July 2006, months before this shooting, when he was transferred to the street narcotics enforcement unit to work in undercover “buy and bust” operations. In September 2006 he was transferred to undercover work in the Vice Unit, and in October to the Queens Enforcement Unit. (So, most of the officers here were new to undercover work in general, to the Vice squad in particular, and had only weeks before the shooting been assigned to the Queens Club Initiative.)

On the night of 11/24/06, Carey and Oliver were assigned to drive the ‘prisoner van,’ meaning their duty was to transport anyone arrested by Det. Headley, designated arresting officer that night. The two decided Oliver would drive and Carey would “record” or sit on the passenger side. They arrived on the scene around 12:30 a.m. on the morning of the 25th and parked a few blocks away from Kalua Cabaret.

After notifying Lt. Napoli they were in place, Carey saw the two other team cars — Napoli’s Camry and the car the undercovers occupied (which included Sanchez, defendant Isnora, and two female officers), drive by. A little before 1:00 he saw Isnora and Sanchez walk by on their way into the club, and soon after heard from Napoli radio that the undercovers were in the club.

Around 2:00, Napoli radioed an update, saying the undercovers were still in the club, nothing much was happening, and to “stand by.” Around 3:00, Napoli radioed again saying the undercovers were still inside, still no action, and to “stand by.” Around 3:40, Napoli again radioed saying the undercovers had a possible prostitution situation and were watching a large black man wearing a black jacket and White Sox hat whom they thought had a gun because of threatening gesture’s he’d made. Napoli told them to stand by for further description.

Soon, another communication came over from Napoli, this one telling the team the prostitution situation was negative and that the undercovers were still watching the man fitting the prior description. Napoli told Carey and Oliver to “move in.”

Oliver and Carey drove closer to the club, and parked around the corner. Carey put on his bullet-resistant vest, and they waited for further instruction.

A few minutes before 4:00, Napoli radioed again saying the undercovers were now outside the club looking for the man with the White Sox hat and black jacket whom they believed had a gun.

In the next transmission, a couple of minutes later, Napoli said one of the undercovers was following that same man — the big black man wearing a black jacket and a White Sox hat — out of the club. They believed he was going to get a gun.

Napoli told Carey and Oliver to “follow them.” However, Napoli neglected to tell the men both where the undercovers and the White Sox man were and which undercover he was speaking of — Isnora, Sanchez, Cooper? Carey radioed back Napoli asking him where the undercovers were, where were he and Oliver supposed to drive to? And exactly which undercover were they looking for? Napoli never responded. Carey asked again. Again no response.

Not knowing what to do, Carey and Oliver began driving down the street toward the club, when they happened to see Napoli’s Camry driving further down the street. They sped up to catch the Camry so they could follow it, the Camry being the only reference point they had. Carey believed they were looking for a large black man wearing a black jacket and a White Sox hat. He also looked for any of his undercover team members.

When the Camry made a right turn onto Liverpool Street, Oliver and Carey followed in the van. He estimated they were going about 40-45 mph when turning the corner, as they’d had to “slow down.” Seeing the Camry’s break lights light up up the block, Carey realized they were stopping, and told Oliver to stop, which Oliver did. Carey then saw Isnora on the sidewalk. He had his gun in his right hand and was walking from the sidewalk to the street toward an Altima, which was parked on the side of the street. That car had its headlights on.

Carey heard Isnora yelling, “police, show your hands, police, show your hands.” Suddenly, the Altima revved up its engine and pulled out of its parking spot at a fast speed — according to Carey, it was the fastest a car could go if it was just pulling out. The car went in the direction of Isnora, hitting him in the leg. Isnora wasn’t directly in front of the car, but off slightly to its side. Isnora didn’t fall, but stumbled and regained balance.

The Altima then sped out into the street, colliding with Carey’s stopped van. Bell put his car in reverse and backed up. It looked to Carey like the way Bell had turned his steering wheel in order to back up, he was going directly toward Isnora, making Carey think the Altima was trying to run Isnora over.

Isnora, yelling “police, don’t move, police, show your hands, police, don’t move,” jumped out of the way, and the Altima crashed into a pull-down gate over a building’s entrance.

Thinking the Altima would take no further action at this point, Carey began to get out of his car. He had one leg out, one leg in, when the Altima sped forward again, crashing into the van again. Carey tried quickly to get back into the van, the car door hitting his leg on his way in. [He eventually needed surgery to repair torn ligaments in his knee which he sustained when the door closed on his leg. When asked by defense counsel Anthony Ricco if he had filed a multimillion dollar lawsuit against the police department for that injury (as had Guzman for the 19 bullet wounds and permanent neurological damage he suffered), Carey said no, but workers’ comp had paid for everything.]

When the Altima crashed into the van the second time, its engine was still going. Isnora started yelling, “he’s got a gun, he’s got a gun” and fired two to three shots at Guzman, in the passenger side of the Altima. Carey jumped out of the van and fired three shots at Guzman as well, believing he was the man Isnora had yelled had the gun. He came to that conclusion mainly because there was no way the driver — Bell — could have made the deft turns of the steering wheel and shifting of gears so quickly if one hand was holding a gun; he’d need both hands for those maneouvers. Carey didn’t issue any commands himself before firing because Isnora’s directives obviously didn’t work; he felt they’d be futile. He could only see Guzman from the chest up; he saw him moving his torso onto Bell’s side, leaning over into Bell’s seat.

Noticing Isnora was walking into his line of fire, Carey lowered his gun and stopped shooting, not wanting to hurt Isnora. He ducked behind the passenger door. He quickly looked out past the car door and saw Benefield open the back Altima door and run down the street. Benefield fled with a severe limp, dragging one leg behind him. Carey knew Benefield had been hit. Seeing Det. Hedley down the street, Carey knew he could get Benefield, so Carey didn’t bother following him. He also didn’t see anything in Benefield’s hands so didn’t consider him a threat.

Suddenly realizing the car’s door offered no real cover, Carey ran around behind the van. He knew the van’s engine was heavy enough it could be used for cover. By the time he got there, the gunfire had stopped. Carey went around to the driver’s side of the van, where he now began shouting, “police, show your hands.”

Carey walked over to Guzman’s door, opened it, and looked inside. He wanted to ensure his fellow officers were safe and that there were no guns within reachable distance of the men inside the car. He saw no such guns. Instead, he saw Guzman lying nearly on top of Bell, both men completely silent and still. Carey thought they were deceased. Seeing Napoli at Bell’s door, Carey stepped back and let him take over. He soon saw Oliver running back to the van. He was impressed because Oliver was on the radio telling central to send over ambulances and backup. Carey would never have thought to do such a thing at that point.

Carey wore his police badge around his neck, but had his sweatshirt over it, covering it. He never saw Isnora from the front, so couldn’t see whether he was wearing his badge during the shooting, but saw him seconds after, when he noticed the police badge pinned to the collar of his sweatshirt. Mr. Ricco presented Carey with a newspaper photo showing all of the officers involved, including Isnora. In the photo, his badge is pinned to his collar. Carey said the photo was taken soon after the shooting.

Carey said Isnora seemed like a “confident undercover” who’d performed several successful operations. Carey described him as a “laid back,” “quiet,” “reserved” guy who was “friendly enough” the few times Carey spoke with him, and able to “blend in well” with the community, making him a “good undercover.”

On cross, ADA Testagrossa elicited that Carey waited until both feet were firmly on the ground and he had an identifiable target to begin firing. I assume this was supposed to indicate that Det. Cooper was reckless when he fired into the Air Train station because one foot was in, the other out, of his car door. But why wasn’t it ever established in the People’s direct case that that was how an officer is trained to fire, with both feet on the ground? Is this all supposed to be obvious? I don’t get this “back door” proof. In general, at the end of the People’s case, I feel confused more than anything, like something is just missing. I hope closing arguments will bring things together and make clear what everything was intended to show.

Carey heard Isnora shout the commands, “police, don’t move” and “police, show your hands,” close in time to each other. (It seems to me, Isnora probably gave the “show your hands” command up front, and changed it to “don’t move” after the Altima started moving, meaning, “stop moving.” Still, the two commands shouted around the same time are contradictory and confusing, assuming Guzman and Bell ever even heard them, which I don’t think they did).

Carey couldn’t ever see Guzman’s hands, so never saw him move them in a way that indicated he was reaching for a gun. He fired at Guzman because he believed someone in the car had a gun because of Isnora’s words and knew it couldn’t have been the driver. He also thought because of the car’s movements, the occupants were trying to harm Isnora. This the first time Carey’s ever fired his gun in the line of duty.

Yesterday was the biggest day in the trial so far: Joseph Guzman testified. Guzman is by far the most important prosecution eyewitness: unlike Trent Benefield, who was intoxicated and somewhat high, and sitting in the back seat during the shooting, and the other eyewitnesses who only saw part of the events that night, Guzman is the clue to just about everything at issue: how out of hand that fight with Coicou got beforehand, whether he ended up telling Sean Bell or anyone else to “go get my gat,” and whether the police officers ever identified themselves as such and commanded everyone not to move before firing.

Guzman’s responses to all above questions were a resounding “No.”

Overall, Guzman seemed to me to be telling it like it is, honest, for the most part, though his testimony conflicted with others’ in some significant points, perhaps owing to mental fogginess due to substantial blood loss and oxygen deprivation after the shooting, perhaps honestly forgetting certain details, or perhaps leaving them out purposefully.

Guzman is a very large man, who walks slowly with a pronounced limp and uses a cane. In comparison to Benefield, I can see someone thinking he is somewhat “tough-looking” though judging books by their covers, as this case makes more than clear, can be fatal, sometimes criminal. He was very composed, dressed professionally in a suit, but became angry and somewhat belligerent during cross, especially when questioned by Anthony Ricco (Isnora’s attorney). At points, cross became a bit of a Ricco / Guzman showdown. Ricco twice asked the judge to seriously consider evacuating the courtroom of spectators because of unrest over his questions. If he’d have got everyone kicked out of the room, I’d have been so mad; I am always quiet as a mouse!

Anyway, Mr. Guzman, 32 and engaged with two children, is not currently employed, though he’s worked previously in masonry. He has two prior convictions: one in 1995 for reckless endangerment, for which he served three years; and one from 2002 for selling crack, for which he received 2-4 years, being released about a year before this shooting. (On the 1995 reckless endangerment case, the complainant had accused Guzman of acting in concert to rob him with his friend, who had a gun, though Guzman did not wield a weapon in that case. Long story short, Guzman eventually pled guilty only to reckless endangerment).

Guzman was close friends with practically everyone in Bell’s group of friends, having met Bell through Johnell Henkerson, whom Guzman had known all his life. He knew Sean “real well,” seeing him “everyday.” He was in the infamous rap band, but was not a rapper or a writer, he said with a self-conscious laugh. Years ago they put out a CD in order “to make money, like anybody else.”

He’d been to Kalua 3 or 4 times before the fatal night. He arrived at the club late that night, around 2-2:30 on the morning of November 25th. Henkerson drove him, but not in Henkerson’s Mercedes; in his cousin Elliot’s car. Henkerson had to turn around and leave, however, after dropping off Guzman, because he had to drive his underage cousin home. (Henkerson later returned; his testimony is here. Henkerson said he drove the Mercedes to the club, which is significant since the defense suggestion seems to be that Henkerson may have had a gun in the Mercedes).

After being thoroughly searched, Guzman went to the back of the club and joined Sean Bell’s bachelor party. Guzman drank only one Vodka and cranberry juice; he was diabetic and couldn’t drink much.

Around 4:00 a.m., the lights dimmed, indicating the club was closing. He and Sean were planning to go to the Flagship Diner for food, then home. (Henkerson said Sean was staying with him so he wouldn’t see Nicole until the wedding; Guzman knew Sean wasn’t seeing Nicole until the wedding but either didn’t know or forgot that Sean was going to stay with Henkerson. Henkerson said he was standing at Bell’s car door talking with Bell moments before the shooting, but neither Guzman nor Benefield remember that, and defense attorneys have asked the two if they are trying to distance themselves from Henkerson and if so why).

When Guzman left the club he saw Coicou standing in front of his SUV, in front of Kalua. Coicou had his right hand in his jacket pocket, and was talking to members of the Bell group; he stood sideways in front of them, holding his hand in a manner that indicated he had a gun. Guzman in fact thought Coicou had a gun. Coicou was saying, “I don’t fight no more, I don’t fight anymore.”

Guzman said, “What’s going on?”

James Kollore said, “I’ll take your gun.” Guzman didn’t hear Sean say that as well, only Kollore. (Jean Nelson said Sean said it as well as Kollore.)
Guzman said, “Listen, we’re not going to get into this tonight.”

Coicou said, “I’m from Far Rockaway.”

Guzman said, “I’m from Far Rockaway too, but that means nothing. We had a good time and we’re outta here.”

Guzman said he never said “go get my gun” or anything of that nature, never substituting a slang term for “gun.”

Guzman and the group walked to the corner of 94th Avenue and Liverpool, when Coicou drove down the street and passed them. At the corner, Coicou indicated for Guzman to go ahead first, but Guzman motioned to him to go ahead. Coicou passed them, drove down the street and turned at the next corner. Guzman, Bell, and Benefield got into Bell’s car (Bell in driver’s seat, Guzman in front passenger, and Benefield in rear driver’s side). The windows were all closed since it was cold outside.

As they were pulling out of their parking space and driving into the street, suddenly a minivan collided head-first with them. At that point, Guzman saw Isnora (whom he identified in court, pointing at the defense table and saying “that kid over there”; Isnora was the only officer he could identify, which I bolded because newsreports have erroneously stated otherwise). Isnora was standing in front of him holding a silver gun, which he pointed at the front windshield. He saw him shouting but didn’t hear him say anything. He didn’t see a police badge and had no idea who he was.

The next thing he knew, Isnora had shot him, striking him on the upper right shoulder right above the breastbone. (In court, he pulled down the collar of his shirt in order to show the judge his bullet hole.) Guzman’s arms were just hanging around his waist; there was nothing in his waistband. At that point, everything to Guzman slowed down, went into slow motion; the first shot “was like wind.” He looked into Isnora’s eyes.

Guzman told Sean, “let’s go, let’s go, let’s do it. This is not a robbery; he’s trying to kill us.” Guzman felt himself get struck again, over his right shoulder. He saw Isnora fire that shot too. Guzman then saw a white man standing at the minivan’s passenger-side door (this had to have been Officer Carey). That man had a gun pointed at him as well. Guzman began trying to turn himself sideways, to lay down in Sean’s area so he wouldn’t be shot again.

Sean put the car in reverse, backed up, and hit something, then shifted into drive and tried to pull back out and get around the minivan. But he hit the minivan.

The gunfire was continuous throughout this time. “This dude was shooting crazy, like it’s a take-out,” said Guzman pointing at Isnora. Guzman continued trying to reach across Sean’s seat in order to avoid the gunfire coming into his passenger-side area; he tried to reach across and get to the door. While doing so, he grabbed a handful of shattered glass from the shattered driver’s side window, slicing his palm, for which he eventually received stitches. While trying to get out the driver’s side, Guzman was shot on the top of his back, on his torso, in his buttocks several times, four times in his right leg, and the last bullet hit his left ankle. He sustained 19 bullet wounds altogether.

Guzman saw Trent Benefield open the back door and flee. After he did so, all gunfire and attention shifted to Benefield. The shooters shot at him, and eventually Guzman saw Benefield fall (though, according to a photo taken by CSU detectives of the scene, there was no way he could have seen Benefield fall from where the car was located. I took this not as a lie, but as Guzman’s mind, woozy from blood and oxygen loss, misremembering, after knowing what eventually happened to Benefield).

When the fire ended, Guzman’s arms were outstretched, his neck and arms now outside the driver’s side window, Sean underneath him. “There wasn’t much left,” when the gunfire ended. Guzman said to Bell, “S, I love you, son,” and claimed Bell said the same to him, though the medical examiner said that it wasn’t possible for Bell to speak after being shot in the larynx; another instance of Guzman’s mind playing wishful tricks on him while foggy). Guzman thought “it was all over” for both of them. (Sean Bell’s parents left the courtroom briefly at this point; Mrs. Bell crying.)

Soon, an undercover officer approached him, said, “let me see your fuckin’ hands,” and handcuffed him. Around the same time, the paramedics arrived. They arrived fast (Guzman’s emphasis). When the EMT opened the car door, Guzman’s head hit the ground, and he sustained an abrasion to his chin. It was then he realized the men who shot him were police officers.

He was taken to Mary Immaculate Hospital, where he stayed until December 12th, when he was transferred to Jamaica Hospital where he stayed for another five weeks.

Guzman sustained 19 bullet holes, 7 bullets lodging inside of him (two of them had been removed, one came out on its own, and four remained inside), permanent nerve damage to his foot, resulting in “drop foot” (which accounts for the limp), a shattered tibia resulting in a permament metal rod in his leg, and had holes in his intestines, lung, and ribs. He continues physical therapy for the nerve damage to his leg, visiting his therapist three times per week for 2/12 to 3 hours at a time.

Glaring at the detectives in the Detective’s Endowment Association group, who occupy the first two rows of the defense spectator seats, Guzman said he had joined in the $50 million lawsuit with Benefield against the NYPD. His health insurance didn’t come anywhere near covering his overall treatment, and remaining medical bills totalled over $20,000.

On April 19, 2007, he went to the doctor’s office to have another bullet removed. On that day, Henkerson had been shot in the neck. I couldn’t understand all of the testimony, but somehow undercover officers were at the doctor’s office when Guzman arrived with Henkerson, and while he was there, they confiscated Guzman’s keys, car, and wheelchair, not returning those items to him for over 1 1/2 weeks.

On cross, Guzman said he never carried a gun with him for protection, including when he was selling crack. “I don’t need protection,” he snickered.

He said he was not talking on his cell phone at any point during the shooting, though a picture of the car shows his cell phone opened on the passenger-side seat. He wears his cell phone clipped to his waist, he said on re-direct.

Benefield saw Isnora standing in front of the car before they pulled out, and at that point Guzman said “drive man, go, go, go.” Guzman said he never saw Isnora until they’d already collided with the van, and it was at that point that he said, “let’s do it, let’s go.” Guzman said they never hit Isnora; Isnora never jumped over the hood, but that’s what Jean Nelson saw.And Coicou had told prosecutors Guzman said to Bell “go get my gat”; Guzman said he never said that. When asked by Ricco whether he was pretending to have a gun for bravado purposes, or to call Coicou’s bluff, Guzman laughed and asked him where he was from. I don’t think Ricco ever answered, unless he did so under his breath, but Guzman kept asking, and the judge didn’t stop him and Ricco didn’t ask him to. They just kept going back and forth like that for a while:

“did you pretend to have a gun?”

“man, where you from?”

“did you pretend to have a gun?”

“where you from, man?”

“did you pretend to have a gun?”

“seriously, where you from?”

It was kind of funny that Justice Cooperman let this continue; I didn’t know when it was going to end. Later, Guzman said where he comes from, that’s really stupid to act like you have a gun if you don’t. Which led Ricco down the “and what did Henkerson (who was talking to Sean by the window before he started his car) have in his car?” road. “Where did you not have a gun?” he asked. To which Guzman said, “Oh come on, are you serious man, are you serious, are you serious?”

Before reading his Grand Jury testimony (in which Guzman said he first saw Isnora on the sidewalk, not on the street in front of the windshield), Ricco had his client rise. “And you say you saw this man…” Ricco began. “I’m not respecting anyone on that side as a ‘man,'” Guzman declared, and proceded to refuse, no matter how many times Ricco referred to Isnora as a man, to call him such, insisting on calling him “kid.” When Ricco asked him if he’d just made up that he first saw Isnora in front of the windshield, Guzman said, “you can’t make this up, man, you can’t make this up man, you can’t make this up.” For a good many seconds, every time Ricco tried to start a new question, Guzman’d say, “you can’t make this up, man.”

Finally, Ricco got a question in, asking, “I bet you was pretty tough out there on the street in front of Club Kalua…”

Guzman answered, “You don’t know me. Yeah, that’s what you would think.”

“No one gets anything by with you, do they?” Ricco said, referring to Coicou’s antagonizing him.

“You really don’t know me,” Guzman said snickering and shaking his head.

Ricco asked, “did you recognize Isnora at the club as an undercover officer? Was Coicou trying to hint that Isnora was an undercover officer?” (Coicou had testified that this is what he was trying to do).

Guzman smiled and rolling his eyes, asked again, “Are you serious, man?” Guzman then said he didn’t even know if he truly believed Isnora was in that club that night.
Guzman had told a uniformed officer at the scene, while he was being removed from the car onto the stretcher, “you all shooting us for nothing! We have nothing in this car, no guns, nothing. You all shooting us for nothing!” Ricco asked Guzman how he knew officers had shot him; who was the “you all?” Guzman now got really mad; he said loudly, “that officer (the ‘let me see your fuckin’ hands’ one) was there too quick.”

Guzman is clearly street smart. Bleeding and lightheaded from lack of oxygen though he may have been, he probably could piece together pretty quickly what had just happened. But he also seems like the kind of guy who would have spotted a police badge a mile away. Unless it just all happened so quickly…
Today, Dr. Albert Cooper, the emergency physician who treated Guzman, testified about Guzman’s many wounds, some of which were life-threatening. He sustained 19 bullet wounds in all, including one on his upper jawline, a couple on the right side of his chest, a couple in his abdominal area, several in his right thigh, several in his lower leg, several in his buttocks, and two on his back. There was also a deep laceration across his palm. He had trauma to his lung and urinary tract, and his small and large intestines and colon were pierced, causing dangerous toxic leakage of fluids into his surrounding tissues. His tibia was shattered and he had seven bullets in his body.

Dr. Cooper immediately operated on Guzman, repairing his intestines and lung, the most threatening of the injuries, then transferred him to intensive care for further management. Guzman sustained permanent neurological damage in the form of “drop foot,” making it difficult for him to control his lower leg, for which he continued to receive physical therapy. Dr. Cooper had since removed two bullets from Guzman’s body, and several remained inside him. He would also have the metal rod in his tibia permamently.

Toxicology reports indicated that Guzman’s blood alcohol level was only .041, below the legal limit of intoxication of .08, and Benefield’s was .11, above it.

The day ended with the prosecution resting. Tomorrow begins the defense.

Today’s testimony consisted solely of that of Trent Benefield, one of the three men shot by police detectives in Sean Bell’s car on the morning of 11/25/06.

Honestly, Mr. Benefield was not what I was expecting, after seeing Anthony South‘s on-the-scene footage of him handcuffed from behind and lying on the ground on his stomach screaming of pain in his legs and at paramedics that they were hurting him as they placed him onto a stretcher. Of course he was in serious pain at that point (when asked today by prosecutor Testagrossa on a scale of 1-10 how much pain he was in, he said “15”; the audience laughed), so his screams were understandable.

But today he was extremely well-mannered, very soft-spoken, very nervous-seeming, and very unimposing and unthreatening. No wonder several earlier eyewitnesses never even saw him get into Sean Bell’s car that night; he’s a small, quiet guy who could easily have gone unnoticed. Overall, Benefield seemed honest, at times admitting things against his interest (like having a marijuana addiction and being drunk when leaving the club that night), but because he was intoxicated and somewhat high, his ability to observe and remember events that evening were hindered. Also, he seemed sensitive, and because of the obvious stressfulness of the events, seems not to have seen it all. In any event, there were some real inconsistencies in his testimony.

A small, thin man, Mr. Benefield, 24 years old, had no prior covinctions, and, while currently unemployed, had formerly worked in a tire shop repairing tires. He had known Sean Bell for 6 or 7 years, and had met him through his lifelong friends, Johnell Hankerson (I can’t always hear very well in the courtroom, and may have spelled his name wrong earlier), and Joe Guzman (the other man in the car, whom I expect to testify tomorrow).

Benefield went to Kalua with Sean and James Kollore, in Sean’s Altima. After Sean parked and the three were getting ready to go inside, a police officer pulled up and asked Sean for his driver’s license and registration, which Sean gave him. After inspecting both, the officer returned them to Sean and told him to have a nice day.

After being frisked by the bouncer, the three ordered a round of Long Island Ice Teas, then went to the back of the club, where they were joined by others. Throughout the night, Benefield had three such drinks (though he’d told officers at the hospital, when medicated, that he had Hennesseys instead of Long Island Ice Teas), as well as two blunts of marijuana, which he smoked outside with Bone. Though admitting he had a marijuana addiction, Benefield only used, never sold, the drug. Benefield said he was “intoxicated” and “feeling nice” but not “high” from the marijuana when he and the Bell group left the club, around 3:40-3:45 a.m.

Benefield and his friend Larenzo Kinred were the last of the group to leave the club, as Benefield wanted to finish his drink. By the time he left, everyone was already outside. When he walked out, he saw Coicou standing in front of his SUV holding his right hand in his pocket as if pointing something, making Benefield think he had a gun. Benefield had told District Attorneys when meeting with them shortly after the shooting that Coicou said, “I got it; it’s in my pocket. I’ll shoot you.” He heard Coicou say to Guzman that he was from “Far Rock,” and Guzman respond that he was from Far Rockaway too. He didn’t hear anyone use the word “gun” or any slang for the word, and never saw Hankerson put his arm around Sean and tell him to calm down, as Hankerson testified he did. He never saw Sean return to the club to retrieve his hat.

They all began to walk toward Liverpool Street. As they rounded the corner, Coicou drove up, went past them, and made a right down Liverpool. The men continued on, Guzman, Sean Bell, and Benefield all getting into Sean’s car. Sean got into the driver’s seat, Guzman the passenger front, and Benefield the driver’s-side back seat, behind Sean. All car windows were closed; Benefield never saw Sean speaking with Hankerson through the window. Nor did he remember talking to Marseillas Payne, or her calling out to him from her car, as she’d said she did.

As soon as Bell started his car, Benefield suddenly saw a man (Det. Isnora) approach the car, holding a gun. He came right up to Sean, pointing his gun at Sean, and, since he was sitting directly behind him, Benefield as well. Benefield immediately covered his face with his hands, including his eyes. He saw nothing more, though he heard Guzman call out, “Go, go, drive, go.” He felt Sean step on the gas and felt the car “bump” something. It’s unclear whether the “bump” — Benefield’s word — was the car hitting Isnora or hitting the police minivan. The next thing Benefield remembered was hearing shots fired in rapid succession, with no pause. It was about two seconds between the collision, or bump, and the shots beginning. Benefield never heard Isnora say anything, and never saw anything on him (ie: a badge) to indicate who he was (ie: an officer)

Feeling himself get shot in both calves, Benefield reached over, opened the back driver’s side car door, and began running south, down Liverpool Street. As he ran, he was shot again, in the thigh, right below the right buttock. All officers who’ve testified at trial, or whose Grand Jury testimony we’ve heard, have said they saw Benefield running down the street but didn’t fire at him because they saw he was unarmed, so this testimony is interesting. I’d surmised Friday that it looked from one of the CSU detective’s diagrams like the shot that eventually went into Mrs. Rodrigues’s house appeared to have been fired from way down the street, not at all near Bell’s car, and that, unless it just ricocheted weirdly off of something else, someone may have shot at Benefield. Unfortunately, that bullet entered and exited his thigh, and, I think — unless it had blood on it and the blood could be traced to Benefield — we can’t tell which bullet that was. So, it may be impossible ever to know for certain who fired that shot.

And, Benefield said that he fell immediately after he was shot, which would have been further down near the end of the street, not in front of the Rodrigues house. So, that bullet must have been a bullet other than the one that went into her house. Unless of course, he just doesn’t remember cleary. Extremely complicated crime scene.

Anyway, after he fell to the ground, Benefield looked up to see a tall, dark, heavy-set man (Det. Headley, from the Camry) approaching him with a gun. He saw nothing on him to indicate he was an officer, and, seeing the gun, was scared. Headley told him to “stay down.” Benefield responded, “I didn’t do nothing. I got shot.” Someone told him to put his hands behind his back, and handcuffed him. He repeated that he was shot and needed help. Soon, EMS workers arrived to take him to the hospital, removing his clothing. He identified by photo all clothing found at the scene, besides the gloves and hat, as his. When asked on cross if the marijuana found near those items was his as well, and he said no, there were grumbles in the courtroom and the court officers swifty told everyone to be quiet. (Jean Nelson had testified earlier that the marijuana was his). Benefield didn’t remember cursing at police officers at the scene or getting angry at the hospital over the whereabouts of his jacket (an officer earlier testified, Benefield said, “go fuck yourself,” when he asked him for information and another officer said he’d got upset upon learning his clothing was missing.)

Benefield was at the hospital for 9-10 days, recuperating from the three gunshot wounds. He sustained a permanent injury to his calf: the metal rod holding the bone together. Unable to work since, he lived on payments from a charity organization and a bank loan. At the hospital, he learned the shooters were police officers. There is currently pending a $50 million civil suit against the city, of which he is a part.

The main problem in Benefield’s testimony is that he said he’d heard only one bump followed almost immediately by shots. But he’d told interviewing officers at the hospital about an hour and a half after the shooting that Bell’s car hit something, then reversed and crashed into something else, then sped forward again and crashed a third time: “my man, trying to get away, backed up into another car, then go forward.” Not knowing how to rectify the inconsistencies, he said he must have been mistaken in the hospital; that he “made up” that Bell’s car had reversed, hit something else, then crashed again. The officers taped their conversation with Benefield at the hospital, and that tape was played in court; Benefield acknowledged the voice on it was his.

On cross examination, defense counsels James Cullerton (for Det. Oliver) and Anthony Ricco (representing Det. Isnora) focused a bit on Benefield’s marijuana habit. Cullerton asked Benefield how he paid for it, saying sarcastically, “I take it you make a large amount of money working for the tire maker.” Benefield said he paid for the marijuana with money he earned, and that he didn’t know exactly how much of the money he’d received from the charity organization went for marijuana. And, after he said he must have “made up” the sequence of events to the officer in the hospital, Ricco asked Benefiel how much “reefer” he’d had that morning. Laughs emanated from the second two rows of the defense side of the courtroom (where all the officers sit). A court officer immediately yelled, “Quiet!”, which made me happy because at least everyone’s getting yelled at for making noise, not just those on the prosecution side.

I still found Benefield to be sympathetic, despite inconsistencies between his testimony and what he’d told the officers at the hospital that morning. It was a meaningless inconsistency for one thing — it doesn’t really make a difference whether Sean backed up and went forward again, does it??? It all happened extremely fast. I felt like Benefield was kind of caught on the spot after they played the tape recording of him talking to the officers in the hospital and the inconsistency was glaringly there, and then he didn’t really know what to say, so said he “made it up”. Did Testagrossa not adequately prep him for trial? And, then, all the questions about his marijuana smoking, which he admitted to doing, after all. Again, he’s being made, unnecessarily, into the bad guy, when the poor guy was shot after all and has a metal rod in his leg for life. Yes, the marijuana likely dulled his senses on the morning of the shooting, reducing his observational capacities and calling into question his memory of the events. But is he a liar because he has an addiction, which he may sometimes pay for with borrowed money?

I know the lawyers are doing their jobs, and they’re doing a superb job of pointing out significant inconstencies between witnesses’ trial testimonies and prior Grand Jury testimony or statements made to officers or DAs. But there is definitely something to the Bell family’s claim that the tables are being turned and the prosecution witnesses (and perhaps the black community, or at least a certain segment of it) are being put on trial here with all the focus on the rap lyrics, the 10+-year-old prior convictions, the marijuana habits. Regarding all of this, by the way, there’s a good but too short article in today’s NYTimes by Michael Wilson on Anthony Ricco, the black attorney who’s arguably attacking black prosecution witnesses in order to defend black defendant Gescard Isnora.