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Thursday the Court heard the Grand Jury testimonies of both Detective Gescard Isnora, the Undercover who was the first one to shoot, and Detective Marc Cooper, charged with reckless endangerment for firing the bullet that went into the Air Train station. We also heard from another eyewitness, James Kollore, a friend of Bell’s and Guzman’s, whose account differed from the earlier testimony of Marseillas Payne, the other eyewitness to testify thus far.

First Isnora, since his testimony most goes to the heart of this case. Overall, Isnora seemed to be a very frightened, nervous, fragile man who, in my opinion, should never have received this kind of undercover assignment. He stressed repeatedly how dangerous it was to be an undercover, how if your cover is blown you could really be in trouble. Just looking at him in court, it’s hard for me to believe he’s ever gone into a strip club and soliticited prostitutes, he looks so meek.

Isnora’s Grand Jury testimony was read by the supervisor of Queens County court stenographers, Michael Cascone. Isnora, 28, unmarried, and nicknamed Jess or Jessie, joined the NYPD in July of 2001. His first assignment was as a uniformed patrol officer in Brooklyn, where he served for three years until moving into the Brooklyn narcotics division to work as an undercover. A year later, in October 2006, a month before the shooting, he was transferred to the Queens narcotics unit to work in the same capacity. But when he arrived for his assignment there, he was told he would instead be temporarily entering the Vice Unit’s Social Club Task Force, geared toward investigating clubs in which there have been community complaints of weapons possession, violence, prostitution and drugs. It seems to me, he ended up with a pretty different job than he was expecting…

Three days before the shooting, Isnora successfully solicited a prostitute and bought cocaine at Kalua Cabaret, which resulted in two arrests. His assignment on November 24th was, along with Detective Sanchez, to try to do the same. He and Sanchez parked their unmarked car a few streets away from the club, arriving around 1:00 a.m. Sanchez went into the club first to see if the two women who’d been arrested on the 21st were there; if they were, they’d very well recognize Isnora and tell everyone he was a cop. As soon as Sanchez called telling Isnora the women weren’t there, Isnora went inside and sat with him near the front of the bar. On his way in he was frisked “lightly” by the bouncer.

Throughout his testimony, Isnora kept apologyzing to the District Attorney, saying he was nervous.

Soon a woman approached Isnora and asked him to buy her a glass of champagne, which he did. He engaged in small talk with her and asked her what she was doing after work. Another woman walked up and asked for a drink, and he did the same, asking her what she was doing after she left. Both women hinted they “don’t do that kind of thing.” While Sanchez went into the back to explore the club, leaving Isnora alone up front, a woman dancing at the pole asked him why he was alone, making Isnora nervous. If you’re a new face admidst regular, people assume you’re a cop, he said. So, he called the team leader, Lt. Napoli, to have him send Cooper in. He felt safer with two team members around. Cooper arrived and sat next to Isnora.

Soon Isnora saw one of the dancers grab the arm of a man wearing a White Sox cap and a white shirt, telling him another man, “that mother fucker over there,” was harassing her, and pointed at him. “Him over there?” Isnora heard White Sox guy reply. If he keeps it up, White Sox said, let him know and he’d “take care of it.” When he said this, he took the woman’s hand and placed it on his right hip waistband area. Isnora saw a bulge right where the woman placed her hand. He told Cooper he thought the man had a gun. The White Sox guy then went into the back. Cooper went outside and called Napoli, telling him what Isnora had just said. As soon as Sanchez returned, Isnora told him about the White Sox man and Sanchez went into the back of the club to look for him.

It was soon closing time, so Isnora excited the club and walked to the corner of the street. He thought Sanchez was behind him, but when he turned around, couldn’t see him. At the corner, he called his field team. Napoli told him to go back to the club and ghost (ie: watch over) Sanchez, as he waited for White Sox man. Isnora asked a fellow officer to meet him at Liverpool and 94th Avenue so he could retrieve his police shield and gun before returning to the club. “It was just me and the ghost now on the street; the field team’s several blocks away. You never know if people think you’re someone they’ve had a problem with before,” Isnora explained.

Isnora returned to the front of the club and looked for Sanchez. About two minutes later, Coicou drove up in his SUV, exited it and stood in front of its passenger-side door, as if he was waiting for someone. Sanchez emerged from the club and phoned Napoli. Napoli told him and Isnora to wait for White Sox man to leave. A group of 7-8 men, including Guzman and Sean Bell, exited the club and hovered in front of its entrance.

Isnora suddenly heard a “loud commotion.” He saw that a woman in that group was arguing with two of the men, saying she wasn’t “going back with” them. “I’m not doing you guys,” she yelled.

Coicou then had some words with Guzman. Coicou kept “fidgeting” in his jacket pockets with his hands. Coicou looked nervous. Isnora couldn’t hear what they were saying, but suddenly Guzman called out to his group, “Get my gun, get my gun.” Guzman said the words loudly and emphatically. Sean Bell walked up to Coicou and said “let’s fuck him up.” The group then began walking down the street at a fast pace, “like they were going to come back.”

Sanchez phoned Napoli and told him what was happening. Sanchez gave Isnora his phone and told him to follow the men and tell Napoli where they were going and what they were doing. Isnora did as he was told, following the men but not closely. He didn’t want them to think he was associated with Coicou.

As he rounded the corner of Liverpool and 94th, Isnora took out his police shield and clipped it to the right area his collar. He held his hand over it until he passed a small group of men who stood at the corner looking back down at the club. As soon as he passed them, he removed his hand from his collar and pulled out his service weapon.

He saw Guzman and Bell getting into an Altima. He thought perhaps the men were getting into the car so that they could do a “drive-by” of Coicou. Isnora told Napoli the men were getting into a car on Liverpool Street. They were the only men around at that point, so they should be noticeable to Napoli, Isnora said. Napolic told Isnora he and the team were on their way, were “moving in.” Isnora couldn’t remember who exactly was the arresting officer for that evening, but thought it was Cooper, who was riding in Napoli’s car. (Normally, the arresting officer, as the name implies, does the “arresting,” not the undercover).

As soon as Isnora saw Napoli’s Camry begin to drive down the street, he looked at Napoli and motioned toward the Altima, nodding toward the car as if to say “that’s the one.” But the Camry continued driving down the street failing to stop, perhaps not seeing Isnora.

Isnora looked back at the Altima. He now saw Guzman, in the front passenger seat, looking right at him. He said, “Police, don’t move,” and pointed his gun at Guzman. Seeing only Guzman, Isnora again said, “Police, don’t move.” He was standing about one foot away from the car at that point. Suddenly, the car lurched forward, as if the driver had “floored” the ignition. The Altima hit Isnora in the leg. Isnora fell onto its hood, then walked backward and regained balance. The Altima went on and hit head-on the unmarked police “prisoner” minivan (driven by Detective Oliver, who, under Napoli’s orders, was following Napoli’s Camry.) The Altima then quickly backed up, right into Isnora’s path. Isnora jumped out of the way. The Altima ‘s rear crashed into a gated area afront a building. The Altima sped forward again, trying now to go around the minivan. But it didn’t make it, and the passenger side of the Altima smashed into the passenger side of the minivan, where it stalled.

Isnora could see only Guzman in the car. He had “tunnel vision”; couldn’t take his focus off Guzman because he was the one who’d told somone, “go get my gun.” Locking eyes again with Guzman, Isnora said again, “police, don’t move.” He said the same words several times, he claimed. He also thought he saw Guzman eye his collar, bearing the police shield.

Isnora thought he saw Guzman reaching into his waistband, to withdraw a gun. “It all happened so quick,” he said. “I yelled ‘gun’ when I saw his arm going to his waistband. I thought if I waited he would fire at me. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do. In my mind, I knew he had a gun, so I fired. It was the last thing I wanted to do.”

Isnora never knew when his fellow officers got out of their cars. He could only focus on Guzman. Everything besides Guzman was “blurry.” He was about 6-7 feet from the car. He knew he was the first to fire, and when he did so, he heard glass shatter. The passenger-side window blew out. He fired all 11 rounds within a couple of seconds. After his magazine fell out of his gun, he didn’t reload. He was trained to “shoot center mass” — the center of the torso — because that was where most vital organs were, in order to stop a threat. All of his shots were directed at that area on Guzman. He was so “scared” and “nervous,” he never paused to assess the threat.

After a grand juror asked him why he continued to fire if he didn’t know whether there were shots coming from the Altima, Isnora said “I can’t answer, I can’t explain, it was all continuous. Once I fired, I just didn’t stop.” Another juror asked why he didn’t take cover. Isnora answered that he was in the middle of the street, a wide-open space; there was no cover to take.

After firing had ceased, Isnora saw Benefield emerge from the back passenger seat of the Altima and run down the street. Detective Headley (who was driving the Camry, which was now stopped down the street, after hearing the shots), ran after him, not wanting Headley to be left on his own. After he saw Headley grab Benefield, “taking him down,” Isnora called 911 for an ambulance and backup units.

After giving his narrative of the events, the prosecutor questioned him. During this kind of “cross examination,” Isnora said after the Altima lurched forward, crashed into the gate and sped back forward again into the minivan, Isnora yelled, “police, don’t move,” along with “police, show your hands.” He said both “don’t move” and “show your hands” several times. The prosecutor asked him if he felt those commands were contradictory. Isnora said he didn’t know; it all happened so quickly.

Isnora said he’d been robbed before working as an undercover. He’d been in fights. But he’d never before fired his weapon. He’d never before even thought about firing his weapon. Isnora said he prayed for everyone, “for the individuals that this happened to and for what happened that night. I wish the vehicle would have stopped. I felt I had no choice.”

During lunch I overheard several spectators saying if only Sean had driven the other way, had not tried to pass the minivan, but instead made a left; it was a two-way street.

Okay, on to Detective Cooper.

Cooper, 39 and married with three kids and with the NYPD since 1989, told the Grand Jury he went into Kalua, and joined Sanchez and Isnora at the front of the bar. He remembered a dancer with a tattoo “Crime” on her shoulder talking with a man wearing a White Sox hat and a white jacket. Isnora told Cooper he’d seen that man point to his waistband and say something like, “I got this,” in response to something the woman said.
Around 3:00 a.m., Cooper phoned the team and told them there was “nothing else going on,” and he was leaving. He left the club and the Camry picked him up a few streets away. When Cooper got in, Napoli was on the phone with Isnora, who was telling him about a fight outside between a man in front of an SUV and a group of men. Cooper put on his bullet-proof vest and picked up his weapon and police shield, but stayed in the car, which drove into a nearby Long Island Railroad parking lot and waited for word from Sanchez about White Sox guy. As soon as Isnora called again saying someone in the group had threatened the SUV guy by saying he was going to go get his gun, Napoli radioed the minivan, saying “let’s move in on this.”

Napoli told Headley, who was driving, and Cooper, that Isnora’d just told him the threatening group was getting into a car on Liverpool Street. Cooper didn’t remember there being any specifics as to how many men were in this group. When the Camry began driving down Liverpool Street, Cooper saw the men getting into the car, but Headley passed on by. “I guess he wasn’t sure if that was the car,” Cooper said. Cooper, who was sitting in the rear passenger side seat (farthest from the Altima), didn’t see Isnora at that time, and didn’t hear any shouting.

Suddenly, Cooper heard the revving up of a vehicle, followed by a crash. The Camry stopped, and Headley began to get out. Cooper opened the rear passenger-side door and began to get out too, but right when he did so a barrage of gunfire began. Realizing he had no cover, Cooper crouched behind the car door, one foot in the car, one foot out, peeked out from behind it, and with his right hand only, fired in the direction from which he thought the gunfire was coming — the blown-out rear window of the Altima. He admitted he did not use his left hand to steady his weapon, making his aim unbalanced and unstable.

Seeing Benefield run by, Cooper yelled out for him to stop and chased after him. Cooper thought the gunfire had stopped by then, but wasn’t sure. He didn’t see anything in Benefield’s hands, so didn’t shoot. Once he caught up with Benefield, he saw that Headley and a uniformed officer had placed him under arrest.

Cooper said he believed he’d fired 1-3 rounds in total. But when he’d spoken with the Queens DA, Cooper’d told them he was certain he’d fired only one round. He now knew he was incorrect about that, and fired about three rounds. When told there were four rounds missing from his supposedly (according to NYPD dictates) loaded firearm, Cooper said he could have fired four. He fired all shots at the rear windshield of the Altima.

Finally, James Kollore also testified. 32 years old and nicknamed “Quick,” Kollore showed up in court dressed professionally in a suit. Overall he impressed as polite and honest (he admitted he was “probably” selling crack while on the lam for another crime), while somewhat lacking in observational capacity during the shooting (he needed glasses but wasn’t wearing any, and he was standing on the opposite side of the street from the Altima).
Anyway, Kollore had two prior felonies from long ago — 1991 and 1993, the first for possession of crack cocaine, the second for possession of a firearm. He was sentenced to a short prison term, which he didn’t serve until 1995 because he’d gone “on the lam” by which he meant he simply didn’t show up to court and no one came looking for him. He was only found when arrested for loitering and gambling, and the police found he had an open warrant. He also had a few misdemeanor convictions from 2002, 2003, and 2004 for trespass, possession of burglar’s tools, and possession of a loaded firearm.

Kollore had only met Sean Bell in 2002, but had known his friends, Benefield and Guzman, for about 15 years. They all lived in the same neighborhood.

Kollore arrived at the club to celebrate Bell’s bachelor party around 11-12 midnight. He’d come in Bell’s car, which was stopped briefly by a uniformed officer. The group proceeded to the rear of the club, where they sat near the stage.

After the club closed, Kollore left with the rest of the group, who congregated outside in front. He noticed Coicou standing in front of his SUV from which loud music was blasting. Kollore began walking toward Bell’s car when he turned around and saw Bell “having words” with Coicou, who had his hands in his pockets. The conversation turned loud with “shouting back and forth,” “angry facial expressions,” and at one point Bell and Coicou were “face to face.” Kollore thought Coicou may have a gun in his pockets, as indicated by his body language. Kollore walked over the Bell, put his arm around his back and told him to “come on.” He didn’t remember saying to Coicou, “I’m going to take that gun from you” but admitted he may have said that.
Kollore and Bell began walking down the street toward Liverpool, followed by Guzman and the others. As they rounded the corner onto Liverpool, the SUV drove by slowly. After passing them, it sped on.

Kollore walked to his friend’s car, parked across the street from the Altima, while Bell and Guzman got into the Altima. Kollore saw the Camry drive by.

When the Altima pulled out, it smashed into a van coming around the corner just then. At that point, Kollore said, the minivan’s passenger-side door opened and a white man with dark hair emerged (who was presumably Officer Carey, not charged here), holding a gun. Kollore heard gunfire and saw a flash from Carey’s muzzle. Bell’s car backed up and collided with some kind of railing surrounding a building behind it. Bell then pulled back out and tried to drive around the minivan, but didn’t make it, and crashed into it again. Then there was more gunfire. Carey fired several times, kneeling down on one knee.

When a bullet pierced a car he was standing next to, Kollore took off, running down the street. Eventually, he met up with two others in the group, and they tried to call Benefield. But Benefield didn’t answer his phone. When they got back to 95th and Liverpool they saw why: Benefield was lying face down, handcuffed.

After being told by a paramedic that the three shooting victims had been taken to various hospitals, they proceeded first to Jamaica, to visit Bell, and after they were told to go home, proceeded on to Mary Immaculate to visit Benefield and Guzman.

The gunfire lasted about a minute. Kollore heard no police commands and saw no shields.

On cross examination, Anthony Ricco asked Kollore why he hadn’t called 911, instead calling Benefield. Kollore just stared at him, as if it was the craziest question in the world, as if it never entered his mind to call the police. Just another clash of cultures. If I’d just witnessed a shooting, the first thing I’d do is call 911. Of course. And when the officers arrived, I’m sure they’d all have nothing but pity for the hysterical white girl, never ever suspecting me of being involved. If I was in Kollore’s shoes, I’d likely think a lot differently.

Kollore said he’d possessed a gun in 1993 for protection. He never carried it on the street with him while selling drugs.

A good deal of cross examination was taken up with questioning about Kollore’s belonging to a rap group, along with Guzman and Larenzo Kinred (but not Bell or Benefield) in 2001. The group produced a CD containing songs about the hustling life. Titles included “We Be Thuggin'”, “Let Off A Shot”, and “Gangsta.” I didn’t really see this testimony as probative of anything (are those former Oscar-winners for best song, pimps because of their number, “Life is Hard For A Pimp” — or whatever it was called?), but maybe the judge might have thought something of it, since he let it all in. On the way out of the courtroom, several prosecution-side spectators were very angry that ADA Testagrossa hadn’t protested more to its admission. One woman said, “he did, but the judge overruled it. What’s the point of continuing to object?”

“That’s right!” someone sitting on the prosecution side of the spectator’s area shouted out on Wednesday after key witness Fabio Coicou (a/k/a, the all-important “SUV guy”) said the above quoted words. Coicou was responding to defense attorney Anthony Ricco’s question about his prior convictions. But Ricco was allowed to ask the question not in order to turn the tables and put a prosecution witness on trial, but to call into question his credibility. I.e.: if someone has previously been convicted of a crime, that shows a certain willingness to put his interest above society’s, and possibly to lie under oath. Anyway, legally legitimate as Ricco’s question was, it also made sense to me that Coicou (and other prosecution witnesses who’ve testified and been questioned about their priors), felt the tables were being turned, fingers were being pointed back at them instead of those who pulled their triggers. And that obviously made sense to the person in the spectator seats as well.

Regarding Coicou, though, his testimony and personality were very unreadable, very all over the place and in the end, inscrutable. I couldn’t figure out if he was trying to be a smartass and rile up the spectators, of if he genuinely was worried he was going to get into trouble (he was, after all, the person who got into a contentious argument with Sean Bell, making the detectives fear there was going to be a shoot-out between the two parties) and was giving off this false bravado as a defense mechanism.

Anyway, here is his testimony. I’ll break it down into direct and cross. Direct first.

Coicou is 30 years old, originally from Haiti, and moved to Brooklyn with his family at age 10. He later moved to Far Rockaway, Queens, where he lived in November of 2006 and where he still lives with his ex-wife and their two young children. Coicou is a certified emergency medical technician and has worked as a funeral director. He had no prior felony convictions, but did have two prior misdemeanors — one for a petit larceny he committed in Nassau County in 1998; the other, a 2006 conviction for criminal trespass in Georgia.

Coicou had been to Kalua Cabaret before November 24th; he’d been there the previous Sunday. LaToya Oliver, his girlfriend, was working in the club as a dancer. On that Sunday, he’d driven her to the club, and as she danced, he parked around the corner and slept, then returned after the club closed to pick her up and take her home. He didn’t go inside the club with her since the club’s owners frowned on the presence of dancers’ boyfriends because it may lead to jealousy. His vehicle was a black 1998 Ford Expedition with customized just about everything (tail, skirt, rims, windshield visor, grill, headlights, scoop, hood, shades, etc. etc.).

On November 24, 2006, driving his 1998 Ford Expedition, he took LaToya to Kalua, and, as he did before, dropped her off, then drove around the corner to nap. Around 1:00 – 2:00 a.m. (before the club had closed), he went in. Before doing so he was thoroughly checked for weapons.

The club was packed and there were a lot of men drinking and looking at the female dancers, particularly in the back of the club. He later learned the group in back included Sean Bell, Joseph Guzman, and Trent Benefield, but hadn’t known any of them at the time.

Around 3:40 a.m., Coicou left, retrieved his SUV, parked in front of the club, waited for LaToya. There were many people now standing outside; it looked like “the whole club was in front of the place.” Coicou stepped out of his SUV and stood at its rear passenger door. Sean Bell, followed by Benefield, walked back into the club.

When Bell walked back out, Coicou claimed he said, under his breath, that alcohol was taking control of the situation. As Bell and Benefield passed by Coicou, Benefield said to Coicou that he was not letting alcohol take control of the situation. Bell got “chest to chest” with Coicou and also said he was not letting alcohol take control. Coicou backed up, then said to Bell, “I have money inside the club; I have bread in there,” referring to LaToya. He said he called her “money” because she is “taking care of me”. Bell gave him “a look like he understood,” then began talking a group of about 7-8 friends.

Bell again approached Coicou and asked him where he was from. Coicou responded, “A.” Bell asked what “A” was and Coicou said, “Atlanta Georgia.” Talking to the whole group, Coicou said he was now staying in Far Rockaway and this SUV was his vehicle in case they see him again. He held both hands in his vest pockets and said, “I’m not here to fight.” Guzman said “I’m from Far Rockaway too, from O.V.”, which Coicou took to mean Ocean Village, a part of Far Rockaway. Coicou said “Oh.”

Bell and Guzman and their group then began walking away.

And that was the end of that.

Coicou noticed two guys standing behind the Bell group, who were clearly not with them. One guy, a bald man (whom he later learned was Detective Sanchez), was “playing with his phone.” The two men didn’t go anywhere, but stood there making cell phone calls. Coicou had seen Sanchez in the club before.

The Bell group “scattered.” A few members of the group stood at the end of the block, looking back toward the club; others had gone around the corner. Wondering why the group had dispersed so quickly, Coicou got into his car and thought, “let me get out of here.” He drove down to the end of the block, and, before rounding the corner, saw Guzman, about to cross the street. Guzman directed him to go ahead, so Coicou drove on and circled the block, before returning to the club and parking again in front of it. While waiting there, Coicou saw someone, whom he thought was a woman, run up the block and jump into some bushes in a nearby backyard. He never saw her again. Soon LaToya emerged from the club and got into the car. She told him someone had just been shot. When they got home and watched the news, Coicou realized the people who’d been shot were the ones he’d spoken with in front of the club.

Coicou insisted he never heard any threats, never heard anyone say they were going to get a gun or a “gat”. The police had come to speak with LaToya but she refused to talk to them, feeling too much pressure. She soon returned to Atlanta because of the pressure.

Okay, now Coicou’s testimony on cross.

As mentioned at the top of the post, Anthony Ricco, defense counsel for Detective Isnora, began to ask about Coicou’s prior convictions, when Coicou quickly shot back, “yes, but I’m not on trial here.” Ricco decided not to ask the judge to direct Coicou to answer with a simple ‘yes or no’ and instead moved on to his Grand Jury testimony. Before reading Grand Jury testimony into the record, Ricco asked Coicou, “you swore to tell the truth, both to the Grand Jury and today, correct?” — a typical introductory question to the elicitation of Grand Jury testimony which is likely going to differ in some way from what the witness has just claimed at trial. Instead of saying “yes,” Coicou said, “and your point is?” which drew laughter from the spectators, but not from Justice Cooperman. Moments later when Ricco began another question, and Coicou opened his mouth, Cooperman said in an annoyed tone, “Just listen to the question.”

Such a clash of cultures. I have no idea what a jury would think if there was one — obviously it would depend who was on that jury — but an older white judge is going to have absolutely no patience with witnesses who smart off, who seem to disrespect the system. I don’t know if any judge would, actually. But then, maybe Coicou just didn’t get the system. Maybe it just doesn’t seem to serve him.

I overheard people on the defense / police side say thank god a judge is hearing the case; you don’t ever take a jury unless you’re guilty. I’ve never heard any attorney advise their client to forego their right to a jury trial. But then, I only know public defenders, who represent the poor, largely black, population. Who represent the Guzmans and the Coicous. I’ve handled plenty of criminal appeals; I obviously only got an appeal if there’s been a conviction (otherwise there’s nothing to appeal). So, juries do convict when the evidence is there. But juries also — usually — look very carefully at all of the evidence, deliberate at length, consider the charges separately, and take their role seriously. If the attorneys are good and the system is fair, there will be a good cross-representation of society on the jury. Something tells me a good many jurors would also understand where witnesses like Coicou are coming from – the fear and distrust of the system, of attorneys and police, the eagerness to mouth off when you feel like you’re the one in trouble and are being treated unfairly. But while they’d understand anger, I still think they’d be critical of inconsistencies and contradictions.

When Ricco continued on, asking him about his criminal background, Coicou again said “I’m not on trial here,” to which the woman in the spectator area said, “That’s right,” followed by mumbles and unrest on both sides of the courtroom. Interestingly, neither the judge nor any of the courtroom officers quieted down the room.

Coicou had a gun in Atlanta, but obtained a permit for it, possessing it legally. He has no permit in NY for a gun, and hence, doesn’t carry one. He didn’t have a gun that night. He held his hands in his pockets, he maintained, to demonstrate peace, so the group would leave him alone. “Uh-HUH,” declared a female spectator. More unrest. Still no demands to “quiet down.”

Ricco asked him if he knew what a “gat” was; Coicou said, “no, what is it?” and told Ricco to get a dictionary.

If you listen to Coicou’s Grand Jury testimony, it seems like he was a lot more scared of the Bell group that night than he wanted to admit at trial, which makes no sense since he’s not friends with them. Ricco read some of that Grand Jury testimony: “I said to them I’m not here to fight. I had my hands in my pockets because I was trying to tell them to calm down. People don’t like to be told to stay calm.” He “thought they looked impatient, rowdy” and that they were “making a scene.” There was “a lot of drinking involved, and if you talk to a drunk person the wrong way … I was trying to hint we are grown men, there’s no reason to act this way.” He was trying not to have a “situation” with them, he was trying to hint to them that the bald guy might be a police officer. He was concerned that if something went wrong, a bunch of people would jump on him, outnumber him, “just like in the situation here, with a bunch of lawyers.”

Coicou also claimed he never saw anyone peeking around the corner, but his Grand Jury testimony belies that. “I got into my car because of the people peeking at the corner. I got concerned. If I didn’t move, someone might come around the corner.” He felt the group’s splitting into two parts — those who went around the corner and left his sight and those who stood “peeking” back at him — could have been “a diversion.” He “was concerned because he didn’t know where they went.” He thought they “were going to get whatever to do whatever.” So, he drove around the block, past the “people who were still peeking.”

Coicou also met with the Assistant District Attorneys on January 17, 2007, shortly after the shooting and before he testified before the Grand Jury. He gave them a statement then, which also contradicted his trial testimony. He claimed at trial that he didn’t recall ever telling the ADAs then that he worried the men were coming back for him, that some of them were peeking around the corner, that he was worried they were “going to go get whatever to do whatever,” or that anyone said, “we’ll get my gat.” However, the ADA’s notes reflected that Coicou did indeed tell them all of those things at the meeting, including, most importantly, the “we’ll go get my gat,” to which the DA stipulated.

Ricco tried to discuss further Coicou’s thoughts that the group splitting up might be a “diversion.” Coicou said that when he drove around the block, he saw nothing was up, so there was obviously no diversion; he “didn’t see anyone doing the diversion.” I guess the way he said this sounded funny because there was some laughter in the courtroom, and Ricco said, “Mr. Coicou, isn’t it true you sometimes use big words you don’t know the meaning of?” Coicou retorted, “I guess so. I’m just trying to be like you.” More laughter. Ricco looked dumbfounded.

Coicou clearly had a thing for Ricco; he would not stop taunting that attorney. Once Mr. Cullerton (Detective Oliver’s attorney) began questioning, Mr. Coicou gave him very little crap. Perhaps he was just tired by that point. But Mr. Ricco is black, Mr. Cullerton white. And when Mr. Martin, (Detective Cooper’s attorney) who is black as well, did his cross, Coicou’s snappishness returned. Martin asked him if, with all this talk of his girlfriend being his “bread” and his “money”, he was in fact her pimp. Coicou asked for a definition of pimp, then asked Mr. Martin if he was one. More laughter in the courtroom. At this point, one guard hushed people.

On redirect, Coicou stated he had absolutely no interest in either side of this trial. He didn’t know anyone involved, didn’t know Bell and his family or friends. And, his brother is a police officer.

Additionally, Dr. Daniel O’Connor, the orthopedic surgeon who operated on Trent Benefield and Joseph Guzman, testified. Benefield had two gunshot wounds to his right buttock — one where the bullet entered, one where it exited. He likewise had two bullet wounds — entry and exit — to his right calf. He sustained one bullet wound to his left calf, and that bullet struck and lodged in his tibia bone, fracturing it. O’Connor repaired the fracture by placing a metal rod into Benefield’s leg. X-rays of Benefield’s leg with the metal rod and screws holding it together were shown in court. Heads shook in disgust on the prosecution side of the spectator area. O’Connor said it would have been difficult for Benefield to have run on the leg following the shooting, but with a rush of adrenalin, he could have hopped on his right leg and dragged the left along.

Guzman sustained multiple wounds, O’Connor said, but his fractured left tibia was the injury O’Connor operated on. O’Connor performed the same surgery on Guzman as he had on Benefield, inserting a metal rod into the left leg to repair the fracture and stabilize the bone.

The beginning of Detective Cooper’s Grand Jury testimony was also read into the record, but since it concluded the following day, I think I’m going to save that for Day 16. I’m tired…

Early in the day, I wrote in my notes, “courtroom is asleep.” Everyone had dozed off listening to the first witness of the day, NYPD criminalist Michelle Miranda, talk about ballistic damage to Sean Bell’s car. If it was the first time we’d all heard about all the bullet holes, we’d have been wide awake, but this is about the fifth witness to testify to the same thing. People were literally snoring.

But not long after I wrote that, things heated up when Miranda, declared an expert in gunshot residue, began removing clothing worn that morning by Trent Benefield, Joseph Guzman and Sean Bell from giant brown bags marked “biohazard,” and pointing out holes which she tested for gunshot and lead residue. The ballistics evidence is always a bit confusing, because the number of bullet holes in the clothing doesn’t necessarily mean that all of those bullets pierced the wearer’s skin or caused a wound; they could have passed through the clothing, making two different holes the result of one bullet, etc.

Anyway, that said, Miranda found a total of six holes containing elements of lead (making them likely bullet holes) in Benefield’s jeans, most on the back of the pants, one in the front, and one at the waist. Eerily, you could see the bullet holes in the courtroom, even from the back. Guzman’s outer vest bore six bullet holes, most of them on the right side; his pants four, all of them on the back of the pants, both legs; and his long-sleeved undershirt one in the shoulder area. Examining Sean Bell’s jacket, Miranda found a total of 14 holes, six of which tested positive for lead residue. Those six, deemed likely bullet holes, were on the right, back side of the jacket, the hood, and in the right shoulder and arm. While Miranda showed the judge the bullet holes, Nicole, Sean’s fiance, got up and left the courtroom, the door slamming loudly behind her as she went. Soon, the other people in her row left, along with Mr. Bell’s mother and father. Justice Cooperman halted proceedings for a minute or two until the situation calmed down a bit.

Miranda continued, saying that all bullet holes found in all of the clothing tested negative for gunshot residue, meaning that the shooter was not standing “near” or “in close proximity to” the three men in the car during the shooting, though Miranda didn’t define what those terms meant.

The upset in the courtroom at the showing of Bell’s bullet-torn jacket seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day. Mr. Ricco, Detective Isnora’s attorney, got short with Miranda over the word “twisted” regarding a portion of the Altima’s bumper in which a bullet hole was found, and later Paul Martin, counsel for Detective Cooper became visibly angry during his cross examination of the day’s second witness.

Anyway, Miranda also testified that she found additional ballistics evidence in the Altima’s flat tire, trunk, and dashboard, and that, judging by the way in which two bullet holes ended up in the Altima’s engine, the hood would have had to have been raised during the shooting, and a bullet would have had to have gone through the hood to have made a hole in the engine.

No gunshot residue was found inside the Altima; so, there’s no evidence any gun was ever fired from within Bell’s car. Finally, Miranda swabbed two bloodstains from the Altima’s hood and trunk for DNA testing, as well as several bloodstains in the rear seat of the Altima.

Next on was Assistant District Attorney Michelle Cort, a member of the District Attorney’s Integrity Bureau, which examines misconduct by police and DAs. It seemed pretty clear to me that ADA Cort was very unhappy, angry actually, with the police department and was not going to cut them one bit of slack in this case. She gave testimony recounting a meeting she and other ADAs assigned to the case had had with Detective Cooper and his lawyer, Mr. Martin, in January 2007.

According to Cort, Cooper told her at that meeting that, following a field team TAC meeting on the night of 11/24/06, he and the team, in three separate cars, proceeded to Kalua Cabaret, arriving there around 1:00 a.m. Cooper rode in the Camry with Lieutenant Napoli and Detective Headley. There was no police bubble light in the Camry. Cooper told Cort he was unfamiliar with Queens, having only recently been assigned the club initiative in that borough and having only been at Kalua on 11/21 for the team’s one previous prostitution and drug bust there.

Inside Kalua he saw Detective Isnora and Detective Sanchez talking near the front of the bar. Soon a woman with a tattoo reading “Crime” on her shoulder began speaking with Isnora. Cooper also saw that woman sitting next to a man about 6 feet tall and wearing a White Sox hat and lots of jewlery. Isnora told Cooper he saw the tattoo woman reach toward the White Sox man’s waistband and the man say, “I got it covered,” pointing to the waistband. Isnora told Cooper he thought that meant the man had a gun. Cooper didn’t hear that conversation but did see the tattooed woman speaking with the White Sox man.

Around 3:30 a.m., Cooper went to leave the club. When he went outside he didn’t see Sanchez or Isnora. He called Lieutenant Napoli and asked him to come pick him up, which Napoli did. Cooper got into the back passenger-side seat. Napoli told him Isnora had just phoned him about seeing an argument outside between a man standing near an SUV and some other men who were on their way toward Liverpool Street. Napoli radioed to Detective Oliver in the police minivan to “move in closer,” and Napoli also drove toward Liverpool. As they drove down Liverpool Street, Cooper saw three men get into an Altima very quickly. As their car drove past the Altima, Cooper saw one man getting into the rear of that car.

Suddenly, Cooper heard a crash, followed by gunshots. Detective Headley, who was driving, stopped and exited the car. Realizing he had no cover, Cooper slowly opened the passenger-side door, and stepped outside of the car with his right foot, keeping his left foot in the Camry. With his right arm extended out and around the Camry’s door and leaning on the door, crouching behind it, Cooper peeked around to see the Altima’s back window blown out. He fired one shot in the direction from which he heard the shots coming — the Altima, which he had his gun trained on. Cooper, according to Cort, had said that he fired for cover. Cooper never saw Isnora. Napoli remained inside the car, ducking down.

Cooper then saw Benefield running down the street, past the Camry. Headley began to chase him, and Cooper joined in the chase. Because he saw nothing in Benefield’s hands, Cooper never shot at him.

During the meeting, Cort claimed Cooper said he was “certain” he only fired one shot that morning. ADA Charles Testagrossa asked Cooper if his weapon was fully loaded at the time he began his day, and, if so, how many bullets were missing from it. Cooper responded that he should have three more bullets in the weapon than he had, but said he had found the remaining loose rounds at his house in a drawer after the incident.

On cross examination, Cort said Cooper told Testagrossa he normally removed his magazine and bullets from his gun at home each night; some of them had simply remained there, mistakenly. Cort said Cooper was never asked, and never said, whether he felt he was being fired on before he shot. Counsel was incredulous that such a fundamental question was never asked at the meeting.
Finally, the parties stipulated that DNA tests on the bags of marijuana and black gloves found on the street were insufficient for testing. So, we’ll never know whom those bags of pot belonged to.

I don’t have much time tonight, so this will be short, but today’s testimony was very odd. I feel like the prosecution is calling every single person who participated in the crime scene investigation in any way.

First on was Dr. Peter Pizzola, another CSU detective (and very educated; he has a PhD in Philosophy of Criminal Justice, which is why the Dr. preceding his name — he’s not an MD). Anyway, he was declared an expert in crime scene and ballistic reconstruction, but not accident reconstruction. So, still no expert testimony about who initially smashed into whom.

He didn’t want to speak with absolute certainty about anything but said that analyses of paint chips he ordered taken from the gray pedestrian gate of the building on Liverpool Street and the rear bumper of Bell’s Altima showed that Bell’s Altima could have come into contact with the gate. He also found clothing fibers compressed into the Altima’s front bumper. Comparative analysis of those fibers with material from Detective Isnora’s pants revealed that the car’s front bumper could have come into contact with Isnora. Since the fibers were compressed into the bumper, such contact was not casual — ie: it did not occur with Isnora simply standing next to the bumper; there had to be somewhat more forceful contact. Paint smears on the Altima’s front bumper could have come from the license plate of the police minivan. There was a tire smear on the side of the police minivan, but Pizzola could not say whether it was from the Altima.

Based upon his impact analysis, Pizzola said the collision happened as such: the police van and Altima impacted, the Altima backed into the sidewalk then into the gate on the building, then went forward again and again made contact with the minivan. The paint on the Altima from the minivan’s license plate was from the first, not second impact.

When Pizzola was first given the Altima for examination, it was already in the precinct’s garage. At that point part of the car’s bumper, foam from seats, and other large items were haphazardly packed into the car’s backseat. Saying he didn’t want to “second-guess anyone,” Pizzola admitted he thought the placement of such objects was not so swift. He noticed the car’s two rear tires were deflated and the front driver’s one flat; ballistics evidence was found inside of that front flat tire. Two bullet holes in the Altima’s hood were definitely made after the damage to the front of the car (so, the crash happened before the shooting). There was slight, typical factory tinting on the front windshield of the Altima, and there was perhaps a bit of tinting on the rear window, but the side windows were not tinted.

The shots fired into the rear of the Altima and into the Air Train station were produced by Detective Cooper’s gun. Cooper was shooting from the unmarked police Camry, parked down the street behind the Altima. The slope of the shot that fired into the Air Train was 11 degrees upward — a slope “slightly” above the target, also called “a grazing shot.”

Detective Edward Bingham (not sure if I’ve spelled his last name right) was the source of the aforementioned odd testimony. Another CSU detective, he examined the Dodge Stratus parked on Liverpool Street that sustained a bullet hole to its trunk; the bullet was found inside the trunk’s interior lining.

Bingham also documented the trajectory of the 24 bullet holes in the Altima through a 3D model called a “total station.” Using Pizzola’s trajectory rods, he made these 3D images, which were projected onto the courtroom screens. They showed a model car with long, long lines pointing toward it, each line representing one of the 24 rods marking the bullet holes. The minute he put up the 3D images, they looked odd and very out of proportion. The trajectory lines seemed ridiculously long, seemingly coming from either below the surface of the ground or way above, in the air. It turned out, as revealed on cross, that he hadn’t made a vertical scale, only a horizontal one. There hasn’t yet been any testimony about how far away each detective was from Bell’s car during the shooting, but Bingham admitted, according to one image, if the detective shot from 28 feet away, he would have had to be aiming from 14 feet in the air. “You don’t know any 14-foot tall people, correct,” defense counsel Ricco asked rhetorically. According to another image, if the detective had fired from 15 feet away, he would have had to be underground. Bingham admitted that when he made the “total station” he hadn’t taken into account the fact that the passenger side of the Altima was higher than the driver’s side when it was shot at (both because of the flat driver’s side tire and the dips in the street). He performed the test only in the precinct garage, rather than at the scene, making it difficult for him to get the proper dimensions since the garage was so small. On redirect, DA Testagrossa adduced from the detective that he hadn’t intended to show the placement of the shooters in the images. But there was a long side bar before the admission of the images, after Mr. Ricco objected to them on the grounds that the DA hadn’t given an “offer of proof” as to their relevance. After the lenghty side-bar, Ricco withdrew his objection, but I wondered what that relevance was after all…

The little things that amuse me

Originally uploaded by swan lake samba girl via mobile.

Today’s courtroom passes are green & have little clovers on the bottom.