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Yesterday wrapped up the defense case. They’re supposed to rest when court resumes on Thursday, followed by closing arguments, and Justice Cooperman’s decision, likely next week. I can’t believe it’s almost over. I’ve struggled to wake up at 6:00 every weekday morning for the past seven weeks, but I’m honestly sad. I feel like I’m going to miss all the court officers, the friends I’ve made, watching the judge and defense attorneys and Bell family and supporters and overhearing Detectives Endowment Association members, and just the crazy goings-on in and around the courthouse.

Yesterday’s testimony was rather bland. Alexander Jason was re-called from Monday, for his cross-examination, during which nothing all that important (in my mind) was elicited. He didn’t perform his bullet-through-the-lampshade experiment with a screen in place — and a screen did cover Mrs. Rodrigues‘s window — but he said that would have had no difference on the speed of the bullet as it pierced the window and shade; shade still couldn’t have stopped the bullet if it was traveling at full force.

Also testifying was James Gannolo, another expert called by Detective Oliver. Gannolo, a retired NYPD detective, was declared by the court to be an expert in firearms identification and microscopic examination and comparison of ballistics evidence. He testified about five specific pieces of ballistics evidence: 1) a deformed bullet fired from Oliver’s gun found on the side of the street was damaged in a way that indicated it had ricocheted at an angle off another hard object; 2) a bullet fired from either Oliver’s or Carey’s weapon found all the way down the street from where the collision of the Altima and police van occurred had struck something hard and fragmented severely before ending up where it did. That bullet also had foam stuck to it — so it passed through something containing a foam filler; 3) another deformed bullet fired from Oliver’s gun found by the gated area Bell’s car struck when it reversed had struck a hard surface before landing where it did; 4) the bullet found in Mrs. Rodrigues’s lampshade, which was fired either from Oliver’s or Carey’s gun, was damaged in such a way that it had struck a hard surface at an angle before piercing her window and ending up in the shade; and 5) a bullet from either Oliver’s or Carey’s weapon found in a Mercury Villager parked on the street had also ricocheted off of a hard object at an angle before ending up where it did.

Unable to tell what all of those bullets may have deflected off of before landing where they did, Gannolo said with all of the ambulances driving down the street, emergency workers, and police officers running around, a lot of the small light-weight bullets and shell casings could have been scattered and moved away from their original landing position.

So, much of the defense case was devoted to the lesser reckless endangerment charges. If bullets were ricocheting this way and that before ending up in living rooms and cars and Air Train stations and other places where people might be, it negates that the officers misfired, and would seem to lessen their responsibility for where those bullets ultimately went.

The day ended with the defense admitting into evidence the entire taped interview officers who responded to Mary Immaculate Hospital shortly after the shooting conducted with Trent Benefield. They played the tape in court and also had prepared a typed transcript for the judge to follow along with the tape. Unfortunately, I could hear very little of the warbled talking on the tape and could hardly see the small type on the court monitor from where I was sitting. Next time I have to get a press pass so I can sit up front! — although I don’t know if they could see much better…

Anyway, I heard Benefield tell the officers he was definitely shot while in the car, which is why he got out and started running (although he also said at trial, he was shot in the car, but also shot while running, so I don’t know how contradictory that is). I heard him say Bell’s car hit the van, then reversed, then went forward and hit it again, whereas at trial he said there was only one collision. I also heard him say on the tape that he didn’t know Isnora was a police officer. Benefield didn’t see a shield and didn’t hear him identify himself and had no idea why he was shooting. He’d told the officers “you all shot us for nothing,” shortly thereafter because he quickly figured out what had happened once he was being cuffed and arrested, which all supports what he said at trial.

That’s all I could hear of the tape. There may well have been more of significance that I could not hear.

Last night, News Channel 2 broadcast a short interview between reporter Pablo Guzman and Sean Bell’s parents, Valerie and William Bell. In court everyday, they said it was difficult but necessary to relive everything. Mr. Bell broke down at one point and had to excuse himself, which Guzman said he didn’t expect. When asked whether they thought there would be violence or protests if the verdict was acquittal on all counts, Mrs. Bell said, “whatever the verdict is, we just pray for peace.”

Today was not my day. First, on my way into the courthouse I was almost tripped by a cameraman running backward — literally running — to make sure he captured Nicole Bell and her attorneys on their entire way down the sidewalk and up the courthouse steps.

Then court got off to a very late start, due in part to the prosecution team’s (habitual) tardiness, followed by a lengthy side-bar. I could see Isnora’s attorney Anthony Ricco getting into it with Assisant D.A. Peter Reiss, but could only see lips moving. In my notes taken during this time I have: “Oliver chatting up pretty female court asst., as usual. Isnora sitting still looking down as usual. Cooper fiddling with something in hands. Front row sketch artist drawing beautiful portrait of the three def’s — should sell her work in a gallery.”

Then, during lunch the place I ate at — Samurai something or rather — a teriyaki place on Queens Boulevard, was closed down by the Health Department just as I was wondering if the cabbage tasted a bit off. I was sitting up front, near the window, along with a couple other female patrons, as a woman walked up and smacked two huge yellow signs on the door and window reading, “Closed By Health Department For Health and Hygiene Violations,” then promptly walked away. The two women near me and I all looked at each other. “Ah, ‘xcuse me,” said one woman, standing up and shouting to the servers in the back. “You just got shut down.” They didn’t seem to hear so she said it louder, this time flailing about. “Excuse me! The Health Department has just shut you down.” At this the several Asian women behind the counter along with the half dozen patrons currently ordering food all looked up at us. A woman behind the cash register simply nodded, and the whole lot of them went back to doing what they were doing. “They don’t care,” said the woman to me in disbelief. Right then the woman’s boyfriend walked in. He’d apparently been parking the car while she came in and got a table. “Okay, what do you want,” he said excitedly walking toward the food line. “What? You blind?” she yelled at him. He looked stunned. “I ain’t eatin’ here now,” she said pulling him by the coat sleeve toward the door. “Only in New York,” she said to me shaking her head as they left. I looked at the woman on my other side, then down at my veggie teriyaki bowl. We both laughed nervously. I finished my Coke, threw the rest of my food away, and went to the card store next door to get a candy bar, which became my lunch. My sugar-filled meal ended up giving me a decent-sized headache.

Anyway, the testimony:

First on was Nelson Rafael, a 21-year-old college student who was living with his family in a house around the corner from the end of Liverpool Street where Trent Benefield was stopped. He said he was watching TV with the volume low around 4:00 a.m. on the morning of 11/25 when he heard at least two male voices shouting, though he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Soon thereafter he heard continuous gunshots. He peeked out his window to see an officer arresting Benefield. The significance of his testimony is that he heard shouts from quite far away (judging by the photo shown in court, his house was all the way at the end of the block and slightly around the corner, so he heard the shouts from over a block away), and the shouts preceded the shots. He knows no one on either the prosecution or defense side.

Next was Alexander Jason, from California, called by Det. Oliver. Jason’s an expert in just about everything from forensic psychology to blood stain pattern analysis to wound ballistics identification, to shooting incident reconstruction, including glass analysis. Using the NYPD Crime Scene Unit’s surveys, photos, lab reports and diagrams, and performing his own measurements and tests, Jason arrived at several of his own conclusions. First, by firing a gun similar to that used by Det. Oliver, he found that, firing continuously, he took 4 1/2 seconds to fire the first 16 shots, and 12.3 seconds to fire all 31 rounds from both magazines. Since the trigger pull on his gun was slightly heavier than that of Oliver’s, it could have taken Oliver less time.

Next, Jason testified that when a shot is fired into a glass window, the glass can blow both inward and / or outward. So, when shots were fired through Bell’s Altima’s passenger-side window, and through the back windshield, the windows could have shattered entirely or mostly outward onto the street (thus, back toward the shooters), and not only inward into the car. (This testimony is likely meant to substantiate the detectives’ claims that they thought someone in Bell’s car was shooting out at them since the glass exploded in their direction).

Jason also examined the gunshot holes on Benefield’s pants, and compared them to those on his body. He concluded that, because the upper portion of the pants contained only two bullet holes — one going through the seat of the pants, the other through the waist-line — Benefield must have sustained the bullet wound to his thigh while he was in a seated position in the car, wearing the waist of his pants low down around his hips. The way the bullet holes were placed in his pants, he couldn’t have been standing up. These findings were consistent, Jason said, with the trajectory of a bullet hole in the Altima’s rear open door, and with blood splatters inside the back seat of the car. (So, the significance of this testimony is that, according to Jason, Benefield was not, as Benefield had said, running at the time he sustained the bullet wound to his thigh, but was likely still in the car, opening the door, and right before he emerged from it.)

Third, Jason analyzed the bullet hole through Mrs. Rodrigues‘s living room window. He found that the CSU detective’s measurements here were faulty, which you could see in a picture of the trajectory rod that CSU detective had placed through the bullet hole, which didn’t even come close to connecting with the lampshade. Jason said the way one should trace such a trajectory is by starting with the place where the bullet was found — here, the lampshade — then work backward through the window the bullet came through, to get the bullet’s proper trajectory. (This testimony made sense to me; I’d said earlier the CSU detective’s diagram appeared facially nonsensical.) Jason also performed his own gunshot analysis and found that there was no way a simple lampshade would have stopped a bullet fired from a Sig Sauer (Oliver’s type of gun), having pierced only a double-paned window. The bullet, if fired directly into the window, would have gone straight through that shade and continued on, striking other things in the house behind it. Rather, in order for that bullet to have landed where it did, it would have had to have ricocheted off of something else before going through the window.

Next, Jason testified that the bullet found inside the Altima’s engine would have had to have been fired when the Altima’s hood was ajar, after the third collision between the Altima and police minivan. There was no bullet hole in the Altima’s hood, and, if the hood was not somewhat opened, there was no way that bullet would have ended up in the engine without piercing the hood. Also, rubber transfers on the front bumper of the minivan are consistent with the Altima’s tires having rubbed up against it and rotated inward to the right of the van (showing, I assume, the Altima was trying to get around the minivan, which we already know).

Finally, Jason examined the bullet that pierced the window of the Air Train station (which was presumably fired by Cooper, though the bullet recovered was so deformed that couldn’t be said with certainty from the bullet alone). He found that if that bullet was fired from near the Camry, the gun was elevated upward at a 14-degree angle. The bullet was aimed right at the Altima, but would have passed right over it. Jason used a laser connected with a protractor to show us in court how, with such distance, one’s aim only has to be slightly elevated in order for the bullet to end up a great deal higher than intended. Alternatively, the bullet that ended up in the Air Train station also could have ricocheted off of a hard object and gone upward, Jason said.

We didn’t get to hear the cross examination of Mr. Jason, since civilian witnesses called by Det. Isnora had arrived, and Mr. Ricco requested the testimony be taken out of sequence. So, there may be more elicited from Jason later in the week, on cross.

Isnora called two character witnesses: Neftali Agosto, the pastor of his church; and Omar Santiago, a childhood friend of his who is now also a police officer. Agosto testified that Isnora has been a member of his church for over 20 years, beginning when his mother would bring him to church as a child. Isnora had later stopped coming to church, but returned to regular attendance about a year and a half ago. Agosto, who was very close friends with Isnora’s family, said he was surprised when he learned Isnora had joined the police force. He knew Isnora as a “very quiet, soft-spoken, nonconfrontational person.” He knew Isnora had a reputation in the church community (the only way to establish character evidence in NY is through knowledge of the defendant’s “reputation in the community”) for peacefulness and honesty through speaking to members of the church, and his own and Isnora’s families.

Santiago, 31, was a lifelong friend of Isnora’s. Both men grew up in the same Brooklyn neighborhood, worked as lifeguards together, attended John Jay College of Criminal Justice together, and eventually become police officers. Santiago said Isnora has a reputation in the community where they live for peacefulness and honesty. Interestingly, just like Agosto, Santiago said he was surprised when Isnora decided to become a police officer, because he was so “nonconfrontational, quiet, and calm.” “We said we can’t see him as a police officer, he’s so calm,” Santiago said he and their mutual friends had thought.

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.