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Above is the quote of the day, as it appears. It is from Emergency Medical Technician William Rudnick, paraphrasing Joseph Guzman, one of the men shot in Sean Bell’s car, when Rudnick was helping transport Guzman into the ambulance. (See relevant posts on the trial here). Murmurs abounded in the courtroom when the words were spoken. Part of the prosecution’s theory was that the three men in the car didn’t know the men pointing guns at them were undercover police before the car pulled away, driving into Det. Isnora and hitting the unmarked police van. Instead they saw a random black man holding a gun, sensed danger and tried to flee. If that’s the case, then perhaps Rudnick’s testimony that Guzman said to him, “I can’t believe the police shot my friend,” right after the shooting, undermines that theory. Perhaps so, perhaps not. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Since I didn’t write yesterday about the day’s testimony, I’ll try to be as brief as possible. We first heard from paramedic Lieutenant Elise Hanlon. After receiving a call that a police officer needed assistance, she and her unit, which included emergency medical technician Mark Massa (who testified after her) responded to the scene around 4:20 a.m. There, there were numerous police officers — both uniformed and plainclothes, many civilians and Port Authority officers. Two vehicles — a minivan and an Altima — had collided and emergency workers were removing Guzman from the passenger side of the Altima and placing him onto a stretcher. On the driver’s side of that car, Rudnick was performing CPR on Sean Bell, who was in cardiac arrest. (Throughout the testimony, Sean’s mother held her head in her hands.)

Hamlon, certified in advanced emergency care, took over for Rudnick. After an ambulance took Bell to Jamaica Hospital, Hamlon walked down the street, where Trent Bennefield, the third passenger in the Bell car who was shot as well, was being treated. Lying face down on the ground and rear handcuffed (there were sighs of disbelief in the courtroom on hearing this), Bennefield said he was cold, shot and couldn’t feel his legs. Hamlon directed officers to uncuff him, and other ER workers cut off his jacket and pants in order to treat his wounds, before placing him into the ambulance and taking him to Mary Immaculate Hospital. Since he was yelling and alert, Hanlon didn’t consider Trent’s injuries life threatening. Before the ambulance drove off, a large crowd of people had gathered at the ambulance requesting that he be allowed to speak with his mother on a cell phone. Hanlon directed the workers to allow him to take the call, which they did. Trent’s clothes were left at the scene.

EMT Mark Massa arrived on the scene contemporaneous with Hanlon. He assisted with Bennefield, who had multiple gunshot wounds, including an entry bullet wound to his right calf, exit would to his left calf, and an entry wound to his right upper leg. He removed Bennefield’s clothing in order to better care for the wounds. Despite the wounds, Bennefield wasn’t badly injured and would be able to walk and run on his legs; he was also conversational and could easily answer questions about his address, date of birth, etc. Bennefield was in pain though, saying his legs hurt. He helped transport Bennefield to the hospital. He didn’t know whether Bennefield was sober, but Bennefield did nothing to make him think he wasn’t. At the hospital Bennefield freaked out a bit over the whereabouts of his jacket because there was money “or something” in it.

Next to testify was Anthony South an independent photo-journalist who videotapes newsworthy scenes to sell to TV stations. After receiving the radio call of “shots fired” through his police scanner, he went to the scene, arriving around 4:30 a.m. He saw 3 ambulances and several police vehicles, marked and unmarked. He shot 7 minutes of raw footage altogether. We viewed most of that footage, which was played on two large monitors in the courtroom. The most disturbing parts were of Bennefield lying face down on the ground and being placed on a stretcher, screaming, “stop you’re hurting me, you’re hurting me… owwww, I can’t feel my legs.” He had a large bloody cut on his forehead, which must have been a scrape from the ground.

We also saw on the tape defendant Detective Oliver walking down the street in plainclothes, a badge visibly dangling from his neck, which Mr. South verified.

Mr. South provided the day’s “moment of lightness” when a defense attorney asked him if he believed a large black man shown on the tape, dressed in plainclothes with a pair of handcuffs dangling out the back of his jeans, was an undercover officer. South said yes and counsel asked why. He said slowly, “well, his handcuffs and gun …” The whole courtroom cracked up. South seemed pleased he could provide entertainment.

Finally, a portion of the tape showing shattered glass on the top of the elevated Air Train platform was played but without sound. Actually, before any part of the tape was played there was a big huge sidebar (that’s where the attorneys and judge talk outside of earshot of either jurors or spectators). All side-bars in this trial are by definition “big” and “huge” though because there are about 10,000 attorneys (seriously, there are four prosecutors and a total of five attorneys between the three defendants, for a total of nine), and, when they all approach the judge, first there’s the eardrum-numbing screech of basically 36 chair legs scraping the non-carpeted floor, then with the black-robed judge standing atop his little throne looking down at this flock of besuited men, it’s just a sight…. Anyway, point is, Paul Martin, counsel for defendant Detective Cooper (charged with reckless endangerment for a stray bullet allegedly shot from his gun that ended up on the peopled platform) obviously got the sound excluded from this little portion of the tape, which annoyed the curious layperson in me who wanted to hear what may have been said about that shattered glass, but which the attorney in me well understands would be unreliable hearsay…

Next on was Detective Hispolito Sanchez, who gave very important testimony. Sanchez, 36 years old, is a pretty large, built, tough-looking black man and one of the undercovers that night, assigned to “ghost” defendant Detective Gescard Isnora, who was acting as primary undercover. The ghost’s role is to look after the primary UC, making sure he’s okay as he does his drug or prostitution buy or whatever. Echoing Lieut. Napoli‘s earlier testimony, Sanchez said the team, part of the club initiative, had just been transferred from Chelsea to South Queens one month before the shooting, and there had been discussion at the TAC meeting that night that their initiative may be disbanded or sent back to Manhattan. On the Tuesday before the night of the shooting, November 22, 2006, the team had made two arrests for prostitution and drug sale at Kalua Cabaret. The sales were made by two dancers at the club. The 25th, the night of the shooting, may well have been their last night there. With one more arrest, they knew they may be able to close Kalua down.

Sanchez chose not to bring his police shield, bullet-proof vest, or gun with him into the field — meaning he didn’t have any of those items even in the car. Isnora did bring his gun, vest and badge, but of course left them in the car when he went into the club. After Napoli gave Sanchez the green light, about 1:00 a.m., he left his car, which he’d parked about three blocks from the club, and went in. He preceded Isnora because Isnora had been the undercover on November 22nd and he wanted to make sure neither of the dancers arrested that night were in the club lest Isnora’s cover may be blown. There’s always the risk of an undercover’s “being made,” which could be dangerous.

Once inside, Sanchez noticed that the club was rougher than it had been in the past. There was a rowdy group in the back, touching and grabbing the women. Also, a tough-looking guy gave Sanchez some angry stares as he went up to the back area to look around. Sanchez felt a little uneasy this time around. Sanchez radioed Napoli telling him both that he didn’t see the women from the arrest on the 22nd and about his feelings of uneasiness, being specific about the man giving him angry looks, the rowdiness, and saying that the place was entirely different from last time. He told him that Kalua nevertheless looked “promising” for prostitution busts. I found this testimony interesting because, according to Napoli, the officer who called him (he couldn’t remember which officer that was) said that it didn’t look like there there was much going on in Kalua that night and they may not be able to make any buy and busts. Napoli never said anything about someone feeling uneasy or indicating that the club was more raucous than usual.

Isnora sat down next to Sanchez at the bar. Sanchez warned him of the rowdiness and the mean-looking guy in the back. A couple of dancers approached Isnora and persistently asked him to buy them drinks. He didn’t.
Cooper was sent in about five minutes later. The three UCs sat at the front of the bar.

Sanchez witnessed two fights. In the back of the bar, a woman threw a drink at a man and the man threw his drink back at her. The two were escorted out. Sanchez also saw in the back area a man, who he later learned was Guzman, flailing his arms about and making gestures indicating he was arguing with someone.

Sanchez stepped outside to radio Napoli again, updating him on what was going on; it’s commonplace to keep the field team abreast of what’s happening inside. He didn’t tell Napoli about the fights though since he didn’t consider them significant.

When he returned to the club, Isnora told Sanchez there was a possibility of someone inside possessing a gun. Isnora had been sitting next to a woman who told a black man wearing a white White Sox cap and black jacket that she had had a problem with one of the guys. The White Sox man motioned to his waistband and said to her, “don’t worry; I’ll take care of it.” Isnora didn’t make clear whether he saw the White Sox man himself or whether the woman had told him about the man. Sanchez radioed such to Napoli. Napoli gave no orders. It was now around 2:30 to 3:00 a.m.

Sanchez returned to the club and pretended to play with a video machine in the front of the club, looking from time to time at the rowdy group in the rear of the club, looking out for a man in a White Sox hat. When he turned back toward the bar, he noticed Isnora and Cooper had left. It was around 3:30 and lights came on indicating the club was getting ready to close.

Sanchez walked outside where he saw Isnora and Cooper standing in front of the club. Isnora told Sanchez he’d returned to his vehicle and armed himself; he now had his gun. Sanchez radioed Napoli who told him to try to find White Sox man. Sanchez walked back into the club, but couldn’t find him. When he exited the club, there were about 15-20 people outside standing in different groups. There was a thin black man wearing all black standing in front of a black SUV directly in front of the club.

A woman surrounded by three men, one of whom was Guzman, exited the club. The woman said to the men, “I’m not fucking him.” One of the men said, “get another girl.” A man then tried to get back into the club. The man in front of the SUV raised his hand, looking at them. He said something to Guzman, and Guzman said something back. Sanchez couldn’t hear what they were saying.

A man who was standing in another group of 3-4 people, a bit farther down the sidewalk, approached the Guzman group and said, “let’s fuck him up.” That man was Sean Bell. Guzman then said, “yo, go get my gun.” Bell began to walk away. SUV guy had his right hand in his jacket pocket. By the way he held his hand, Sanchez thought SUV man had a weapon. Bell came back up to the Guzman group and said again, “let’s fuck him up.” Again, Guzman said, “go get my gun.” Sanchez was standing about five feet from Guzman; he was sure he heard his words correctly. The SUV man looked hard at the group, not seeming scared. Bell walked away, toward Liverpool Street, followed by Guzman and the rest of the group.

There was another group of about 4-5 people standing a bit further down the sidewalk. They began following the Guzman / Bell group down the street as well.

Sanchez radioed the events to Napoli and gave Isnora his cell phone so that Isnora could give a further description of the men as he followed them. Sanchez would stay near the club and keep lookout for White Sox man. Isnora took the cell phone and began following the Guzman group. (Sanchez had another, back-up phone.) Sanchez began a conversation with a woman dancer who’d just left the club (presumably Marseillas Payne, who testified earlier). He asked her how she was doing and what her name was and a few other questions. She looked him up and down and asked if he was a cop. He said no. She said, “I don’t do dates.” He said it was cool and told her to have a good night. She crossed the street and walked in the same direction as the Guzman / Bell group had.

Sanchez saw Payne stop and talk to a black man wearing a red baseball cap (Larenzo Kinred, who testified earlier) who had been with the Guzman group and was now standing down the street. SUV guy got in his vehicle and drove away, in the same direction as the Guzman group. He drove away at a rather fast speed, about 20-25 miles per hour. After he made a right at the end of the block, Sanchez lost sight of him. Sanchez remained outside of the club waiting for White Sox guy and watching Red cap guy converse with Payne.

Soon Sanchez saw his field team drive by — first Napoli’s car passed him, then the team’s minivan, or prisoner van (so named because it was used to transport prisoners following arrests), both cars proceeding in the same direction as the SUV, and the Guzman / Bell group. As they turned the corner, Sanchez followed.

About 1 1/2 minutes later, Sanchez heard people’s voices. He was unsure of what they were saying, but they were yelling. On cross examination he was asked whether those words could have been commands and he said they did sound like someone was giving commands but he couldn’t be sure since he couldn’t hear the content. At any rate, there was definite yelling. Following the yelling, he heard a large collision — “a big boom.” He rounded the corner and saw the back of the prisoner van and 3-4 seconds later he heard gunfire. He remembers seeing the silhouette of a person by the driver’s side of the prisoner van but couldn’t see what he was doing. Sanchez ran for cover, ducking in a doorway down the street, and called a detective in his team to tell her to put out a radio run of “shots fired.” He then called 911.

We heard the 911 tape and it was a mess and a half. The sound quality was so bad I couldn’t make out a single thing other than noise in the background and a female voice, apparently the operator’s, repeatedly asking Sanchez for a location, which he seemed unable to give her, and the words “two perps shot.” As the tape progressed, the attorneys — both sides — noted that it was now repeating, so you couldn’t really even tell where the call ended and began. Following the tape’s being played Sanchez testified that he didn’t know the location of the club and had to ask a uniformed officer who’d responded to the scene, as well as defendant Det. Oliver, who ran by him. They hadn’t discussed the location of the club at the prior TAC meeting in case of an emergency.

Sanchez described the gunfire as going on for about two minutes, generally continuous but with a few short pauses. He’d told the Grand Jury, though, that it only lasted 4-6 seconds. He admitted at trial that he really didn’t know exactly how long the gunfire lasted.

Later, after the gunfire had stopped, Sanchez saw Isnora, who had his police shield displayed under his chin on the left side of his collar. Isnora lifted his pants legs to show a reddish mark on his shin.

Next on was Lieutenant Michael Wheeler, one of the uniformed officers who responded to the scene. He received a total of four radio calls — three of “shots fired,” the final, “police officer needs assistance.” He arrived at the scene around 4:15 a.m., about 1 1/2 minutes after receiving the calls. He saw the collision of an Altima and a minivan, saw smoke coming from the hoods of the cars, and saw Guzman’s chest and arms hanging out the driver’s side of the Altima. Two other officers were already there assisting. He called for an ambulance and directed one of the officers to handcuff Guzman for for safety purposes. He saw Det. Cooper, holding a gun and ordered him to lower his firearm and holster. His driver had told him that Cooper was a police officer, which is why he told him only to lower, and not drop his gun. He took no notice of any shield, but wasn’t looking for one. He also saw Trent Bennefield lying on the ground, and ordered him cuffed as well.

Wheeler asked Cooper if he was okay and whether he fired his gun; Cooper said yes to both. Wheeler asked how many times he’d fired and Cooper said he didn’t know. Cooper directed Wheeler down the street to the rest of the team. Isnora told Wheeler he fired his gun but didn’t know how many times. Another detective on the team, Det. Headley said he fired his gun but didn’t know how many times. Wheeler said that when he asked Det. Oliver (who’d fired 31 times) whether he fired his gun, Oliver said he didn’t know. Wheeler had told the Grand Jury, however, that Oliver told him he did fire his gun but didn’t know how many times. At trial he insisted he was certain that Oliver had told him he didn’t know whether he’d fired his weapon and claimed the Grand Jury testimony was a mistake.

Wheeler preserved the crime scene with police tape, then spoke with Bennefield. He ascertained Bennefield’s name and address but when asking him his date of birth, Bennefield responded, “go fuck yourself.” Bennefield appeared to be in a lot of pain.

Wheeler performed a routine weapon and ‘perp search,’ finding no missing perpetrators or guns. He checked all undercovers on the team for alcohol consumption and found them all “fine and fit for duty.” Napoli, however, seemed “slightly out of it” but was still able to answer questions.

Next to testify was emergency technician Rudnick (who I mentioned about five years ago at the start of this crazy long post). Rudnick impressed as young, serious, honest, and trustworthy. He too responded to the radio runs, arriving on the scene around 4:16 a.m. He parked behind the collided cars and approached the Altima, where he found Guzman’s upper body hanging outside of the driver’s side, his hands cuffed. Rudnick introduced himself to Guzman and asked him if he was okay. Guzman said he was okay but was worried about his friend underneath him. Rudnick then leaned down and saw that Guzman was not the driver of the car, but that there was another man, in the driver’s seat who was underneath Guzman, who’d fallen into the driver’s seat atop him. Sean Bell was the driver.

Bell was ashen gray and did not appear to be breathing. Rudnick was unable to find a pulse and realized he was in traumatic cardiac arrest. Rudnick’s partner, Walsh, worked to remove Guzman from the car, immobilizing him then sliding him across the front seat and out the passenger’s side, so Rudnick could work on Bell. Rudnick cut off Bell’s shirt so that he could see his wounds. He found a bullet entry wound to the right side of his neck and another to the right side of his chest. He put a cervical collar on Bell to immobilize him, reclined his seat, which was already partially reclined, as far back as it would go, and began performing CPR and artificial pulmonary recessitation on him. Hamlin then arrived and, having advanced CPR training, and Rudnick only basic, took over for Rudnick.

Rudnick then concentrated his efforts on Guzman. As he placed Guzman into the ambulance, Guzman said, “I can’t believe the police shot my friend.” Guzman was still in cuffs at that time. Rudnick got into the ambulance, cut off Guzman’s clothes and had the cuffs removed so he could properly treat him. Guzman had multiple wounds to his face, chest, abdomen, legs, and back, and was in critical condition, with a collapsed lung. Rudnick began sealing the wounds and monitoring Guzman’s vital signs as the ambulance proceeded to Mary Immaculate hospital.

Isnora’s attorney, Anthony Ricco, went nuts on cross, homing in on what Rudnick said he heard Guzman state. Ricco asked, “did you tell Mr. Guzman the police had shot Mr. Bell? Did you see anyone tell Mr. Guzman the police had shot Mr. Bell?” Both answers were “no.” “Then how did he know the police had shot Bell?” Ricco asked. But Justice Cooperman sustained the prosecutor’s objection (Rudnick couldn’t know such an answer since he doesn’t inhabit Guzman’s brain). Rudnick himself did not know at that point that Guzman had been shot by police. On re-direct examination, the prosecutor elicited from Rudnick that Guzman was handcuffed at the point that he made the statement about the police shooting his friend. But on re-cross, Ricco asked Rudnick whether Guzman had asked why he’d been cuffed or whether he’d stated that the police had shot his friend. Rudnick said the latter.

I’ll definitely be interested to hear Guzman’s testimony now. Did he piece together that cops shot them because of the cuffs and other things that happened afterward? Or was he too out of it after being shot so many times to come to that conclusion afterward? Does this mean he knew the people approaching them bearing guns were officers and they tried to drive away anyway? Rudnick is a completely disinterested witness, and, as I said, he seemed very truthful. His testimony is going to carry a lot of weight.

Anyway, one more witness and then I’m done! Officer Dereck Braithwaite responded to the scene as well. He never saw the aftermath of the collision but remained on 94th Avenue, down the block from the club. He was the officer Sanchez had flagged down to ask about location while making his 911 call. He also saw Oliver on the street, who he noticed was wearing a police badge around his neck. Oliver asked him to radio for an ambulance, a supervisor, and other units of officers. After helping to tape up the crime scene, he escorted Bell’s ambulance to Jamaica Hospital. He received Bell’s clothing after it had been removed. It contained no weapons.

Today’s sole witness was Lieutenant Gary Napoli, the team leader of the drug and prostitution operation on the night of the shooting. Napoli, 50, who in his 25 years on the police force had never been charged with carelessness or incompetence, seemed very nervous. He asked often for questions to be repeated, concentrating hard on his answers. He impressed as a man who was trying hard to be truthful yet couldn’t help but be mindful of his defendant colleagues. He spoke very softly and his words were often garbled; I had a hard time understanding him.
The team, which included all three defendant detectives (Oliver, Isnora and Cooper), had been assigned to the Jamaica, Queens initiative in October of 2006, a month before the shooting. Previously they had been assigned “buy and bust” operations in Chelsea, Manhattan. (I’m sorry but on hearing this, my first thought was: there’s actually crime in Chelsea these days? I’ll be very interested when the detectives testify to know whether this was their first experience out of Lower Manhattan…) Within the prior week the team had processed two arrests each for drug sale and prostitution at Kalua Cabaret. They needed one more arrest — for either — at Kalua in order to ask that it be closed down. According to office superiors, there were to be team changes put into effect the following week, making them believe they may be returned to Manhattan and this would be their last night in Queens. Although it wasn’t listed on their TAC plan (plan of operations) for that evening, the team had decided Kalua would be the main target.

The team consisted of three vehicular units: the undercover’s car, driven by defendant Detective Isnora and containing three other passenger undercover officers; the “prisoner van” which carried defendant Detective Oliver and another officer; and the “chase car” used by the backup team to get the suspects after the buy, in which Napoli and defendant Detective Cooper were passengers).

All cars parked in the vicinity of Kalua at around 12:45 on the morning of November 25th. Once all units radioed they were ready, Napoli authorized them to go, sending Detective Sanchez into the club around 1:30 a.m., and Cooper at 2. About fifteen minutes after Cooper entered, Napoli received a communication (he couldn’t remember from whom) that there was a male black in the club wearing a white White Sox hat and a white t-shirt who made a gesture to his waistband indicating he had a firearm, after a dancer approached him saying she had had a problem with a man in the club. Napoli relayed that information to the other units. At about 2:50, Napoli decided to have Cooper exit the club and place him and Isnora in front of the club to stop the “White Sox” person if and when he left. Cooper returned to his car to get his bullet-proof vest, and he and Isnora took position in front of Kalua.

Around 3:30 a.m., Isnora called Napoli telling him there were two groups in a heated argument in front of the club and he believed a weapon was involved. A few seconds later Isnora called again, his voice now much more frantic, saying they needed to take quick action; he believed there was going to be violence. His words were, “it’s getting hot, it’s getting hot, we need you here quick,” which Napoli viewed as a call for help, and told his units to “move in.” Isnora gave no description of the people involved in the fight but said nothing about a man with a White Sox cap.

Napoli’s car went past Kalua, but Napoli didn’t spot Isnora. (Napoli was in the passenger side; another officer drove). When they rounded the corner of Liverpool Street and began driving south, Napoli saw Sanchez rounding the corner as well; he was walking behind a black woman (who must have been Payne). He then saw Isnora about two buildings in from the corner, standing on the west side of the street. There were between 20 and 40 people on the street, the club having just closed. As he passed Isnora, Isnora gave him three nods of the head indicating a car, an Altima (Bell’s car), across the street, parked on the east side of the street, which some people were getting into.

Napoli’s intent was to drive up past the car, put his police light atop his car, then get out and stop the Altima. As they drove past, Napoli fumbled with the light, having some problem retrieving it, then plugging it in. As Napoli was bent down trying to put the light on, he heard a car screeching away, followed by a collision. Seconds later (he couldn’t estimate how many) he heard gunshots. They were multiple; no pauses. At this point, though he hadn’t seen what happened since he was bent down looking away from the cars, he believed that the people in the Altima knew Isnora was an officer, knew they were all police, and in the process of trying to get away got into a collision. Still trying to get away from the police, the people in the Altima were now firing at them. He thought he and his men “were under fire.”

As Napoli grabbed his gun and tried to look backwards out his passenger window, he saw another officer, who was directly in his line of fire. He radioed the officer to get out of the way, which he did. Napoli exited the car, crouching, his weapon drawn, the gunfire still going on. After he got to the end of his car, the gunfire stopped, an “eerie silence” ensuing. Napoli never fired.

When the gunfire ceased, Napoli called out asking if everyone on the team was okay. Voices indicated they were. He saw Oliver standing on the driver’s side of the Altima and Isnora near the corner of the street. Napoli then turned his concentration to the Altima, seeing some movement inside. A man called out that he was hit. Napoli directed him to put his hands out of the car and wiggle his fingers to let him know he didn’t have a gun. The man did so.

Afterward the team members were “all in shock; in a surreal state.” Napoli had supervised over 100 operations and none of his subjects had ever been seriously injured.

Napoli also had never before ordered a primary undercover to effectuate an arrest; arrests were performed by the designated arresting officer. But he had also never been in this kind of situation. He said he was trained, at the outset of a threat, first to take cover, then assess the situation, and then identify the target, all before using any deadly force. He would not let shots go off without identifying a target. But there are some situations, he added, where you can’t find the target.

Today we had two and a half witnesses (third was a police officer, the head of the sting operation the night of the shooting, who only got about a fourth of the way through his testimony). The main people we heard from today were the two guys Ms. Payne, the former exotic dancer from yesterday’s testimony, passed first walking from Kalua Cabaret to her car and then again when running back to the club from the gunfire.

First on was Hugh Jensen, a very soft-spoken 31-year old man with one prior conviction for grand larceny from ten years ago. He had known Sean Bell and his friends for about six years and was at the club for the bachelor party. He and Bell both drove to the club, each carrying about three people, arrived around 11:45 p.m., and parked near each other, around the corner from the club. When Jensen emerged from his car he noticed a police officer standing at Sean’s car, asking him for his license. After the officer left, they all went into the club together.

Around 3:30 a.m., Jensen took “Bone” home, then returned to the club around 4 to pick up Larenzo Kinred (who testified after Jensen), a seemingly sensitive, emotional 34-year-old with one prior felony for crack possession and four prior misdemeanors mostly for marijuana; one for criminal mischief (he broke a window). When Jensen got back to the club he saw five men from the Bell party standing outside in front. Kinred was talking to a woman named Karis off to the side of the club and Jensen joined them. They soon noticed Sean Bell emerge from the club, go back in for a short time, likely to retrieve something, and, upon exiting again, engage in an “altercation” with a man wearing all black standing next to an SUV in front of the club. Jensen couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but characterized the interaction as “kind of aggressive,” “not a normal conversation.” He saw Bell turn around at one point, a “sarcastic smile” covering his face.

Kinred did hear part of the conversation, however. He heard the SUV guy say to Bell, “hey, you can’t be doing that up here. I got money up here, you can’t be going in there.” Kinred interpreted the SUV man’s actions, the way he held his hand in his pocket, to be simulating that he had a gun. Kinred indeed thought the man had a gun. The other five men in the Bell party approached the SUV guy, standing “around him” and, according to Kinred, one of them said to SUV guy, “we can take that away from you.” Kinred and Jensen saw a pair of men, whom they didn’t know, standing only about five feet away from SUV guy and Bell, closer to the two than Kinred and Jensen were.

Finally SUV guy got into his vehicle and drove away very very slowly, turning at the corner. A green minivan followed the SUV, driving slowly down the street as well. As the green van passed, the driver and his passenger looked out their windows at Jensen and Kinred. They were white men. Because of this and because of the way they looked at them, Jensen and Kinred knew they were undercover cops. (At this point there were gasps in the courtroom). “I just know. From the neighborhood. You can just tell,” Jensen said. On cross, Detective Isnora’s attorney, Anthony Ricco (who, by the way, seems very attuned to the “big picture” in all of this, who gives everyone their humanity even while riddling their stories with holes, and whom I really really like) asked Jensen if he could tell the two men standing near Bell and SUV guy were undercover officers as well. Jensen said no, those two guys looked like they belonged there.

Bell and his friends walked off toward their cars, around the corner. Payne, followed by a bald man, exited the club and walked toward the corner as well.

About twenty seconds later, they heard gunfire. There were two to three shots, a pause, then rapid gunfire. Kinred was waiting for a dancer who’d told him she’d been smacked in the face earlier in the night, but at this point he began walking quickly to the corner from where the shots were coming, Jensen following him. They were fearful but worried about their friends. As they ran toward the gunfire, Payne ran by them. Yesterday Payne claimed they asked her what she was running from, annoyed that they didn’t hear the fire, but Jensen said he and Payne exchanged no words; Kinred said he asked her what had happened. Neither man had heard any screeching tires or yelling before the gunshots.

Rounding the corner, they saw a light-skinned man standing to the right of the minivan holding a gun with two hands and shooting into Bell’s car. Kinred cried at length upon describing this in court. They also saw Bell in his car, his head slumped toward his window. “What are you doing?” Kinred yelled out. The officer with the gun turned around to him and said, “get the fuck off the block, get the fuck off the block.” They saw another light-skinned officer on the other side of the car.

As they turned to walk back around the corner they saw the bald guy who had been following Payne run into a little doorway down the street and duck. A few minutes later, Jensen saw Detective Oliver on a cell phone stating the location of the shooting.

At trial Kinred said he didn’t see any of the actual shooting. However, footage from a TV news camera was played in court, showing him shouting to the cameraman that he’d seen the whole thing and knew the cops crashed into Bell’s car and, because they were scared, emerged from the van and began shooting. He admitted this was all an assumption.

Kinred hid from the police for the next few days, directing his wife to tell them he wasn’t there when they came to speak with him.

Also of note: Kinred said he witnessed a fight between a man and a woman at the front of the bar that night, in which the woman threw a drink in the man’s face. And, the prosecutor made a point of eliciting from Kinred that he was wearing a red Celtics jacket and a red baseball cap that night, which I assume will be important info later on.

Big day yesterday. We finally had a witness yesterday afternoon — an exotic dancer in the club where Sean Bell‘s bachelor party was held — whose testimony went to the ultimate issue in the case (until now, none of the People’s witnesses saw the actual shooting).

I arrived at 8:20 and still had to wait in an outside line, albeit a shorter one. I should try to get an official press pass. Haven’t needed one for all my ballet performances! But if I’m going to write about things like this perhaps it’s worth looking into… Anyway, there was a group already congregated and I got in line behind them. Soon a woman came up and said several “good mornings,” to people, all of whom returned her greeting… except bonehead moi. She did look at me, but I thought she wasn’t talking to me, both because I never think people are actually talking to me when they don’t know me, and also, because, well, she was black and everyone she said hello to was black as well so I kind of assumed they were all together even though she got in line behind me, without chatting further with them. In the courtroom, I saw her sit down on the defendants’ side, up front in the family section, while all the others in line ahead of us sat on the prosecution side. So they weren’t together. It made me happy that people are being kind and generous to each other. There’s no reason not to of course, but this is obviously a stressful time where tensions can easily flare…

This trial really is kind of like a TV drama the way the big story unfolds and audible gasps emanate throughout the courtroom at various points. At one point Justice Cooperman had to ask spectators to quiet down with their commentary, reminding them this was a courtroom.

So, going in order of the day: first two witnesses were bartenders at the Kalua Cabaret, the club where Sean Bell and his friends, Trent Benefield and Joe Guzman, were shot by police, Bell killed, upon leaving via car. Ms. Angulo (sorry, didn’t get her first name; also I’m going to bold names of witnesses to make it easier to see who has testified), speaking through a Spanish interpretor, said she was one of several bartenders working that night, November 25, 2006, and remembered serving Sean Bell one drink, a Long Island Ice Tea, which he ordered from her. The club closes at 4:00 a.m.; she left at 4:30. When she did, she saw ambulances, police cars and yellow police tape blocking off portions of the street around the corner from the club. Sean seemed happy. She never heard shots.

The other bartender, Tina O’Neale, never met Bell that night, but knew his friend, Joe Guzman, who had asked her out. She remembered overhearing a verbal fight that night between a male and female, the two yelling at each other and walking back and forth in the front area of the club before exiting. She later heard about another fight involving a dancer, but didn’t have first-hand knowlege of that. Also, there was a group of guys in the back area (where, according to others was where the Bell party was) who were getting a bit “rowdy,” touching the dancers and being loud. Around 4:00 a.m., as she was preparing to leave, she remembered a woman running into the club “saying something about gunshots,” which she hadn’t heard. She “didn’t pay the shots any mind,” and left the club.

William Bell, Sean’s father, was next to testify. He hadn’t wanted to go to the club, but after his son called him a few times, gave in and went for a couple of hours to help Sean celebrate. He left around 3:00, well before the shooting, so didn’t see any part of that. He said he remembered seeing Detective Cooper (one of the three defendants), in the club.

I just want to take a moment and say for the record detectives Cooper and Isnora are black men, as are their attorneys (both of whom are real characters, both of whom can actually be comical at points while still being very formidable cross examiners). Detective Oliver is white. There’s a team of several attorneys but the main ones are the two I just mentioned; Oliver’s is a white man. I just say this because I feel the media is making this into a white versus black thing and it’s so not. Everytime I see the detectives pictured on the news or in papers, it’s usually only Oliver, or he is in the fore, and any time an attorney is interviewed it’s one of the older white men. There are people of various races sitting on both sides of the courtoom, though it’s hard to tell which side people are supporting, if any; the courtoom’s so packed everyone’s just trying to find a seat. Anyway, back to trial.

Last witness of the morning was the colorful Harold James, a smallish man in his late 30s with cornrows, who’s known — rather widely — in the community as “Bone.” Bone was also there that night but left before the shooting, so didn’t provide any testimony going to the ultimate issue either. He knew Bell but seemed to be better friends with the others in his party, such as Joe Guzman and Trent Benefield; everytime he said Bell’s name, he called him “God bless Sean Bell.” Bone has three prior convictions involving cocaine sales. In one of the more humorous points of the day, Isnora’s attorney (one of the characters) asked Bone on cross, “These are only the three times you happened to get caught, right. I mean, you’re not telling Judge Cooperman that these are the only three times you’ve ever sold cocaine, are you?”

I thought, oh no, be careful what you say!

Looking at first a bit like a deer in headlights, he thought for a few seconds, looked at the judge, looked back at the attorney, and said, “I’m not telling him nothin’.” Laughter spread through the courtroom and even normally emotion-less Cooperman cracked a smile.

The defense attorneys really went nutty with these priors. I say nutty because focusing on former convictions like this is normally something a defense attorney would do with a jury, to discredit the witness; a judge really just needs to be told once — he can remember; he knows what prior convictions for what crime mean and don’t mean — making me think much of this examination was for the spectators and press. They really do have a jury of sorts here.

Anyway, to say Bone was a regular at Kalua is an understatement. He was there several night per week, bringing people there, bringing lots of cash to the owners, “makin’ it rain,” and kind of herding the dancers, all of whom he knew well, around to various parts of the club to perform for friends, parties he’d brought in, to maximize their monetary intake, and of course his friends’ happiness. Though he insisted he never received payment from the club, he had told the Grand Jury he was “affiliated” with it, a dispute arising over what exactly that meant. He’d taken the Bell party to the back of the club, where he arranged for dancers to come back and entertain. In contrast to O’Neale, he said there was no rowdiness back there. He bought Bell a Long Island ice tea.

Bone left at 3:20 to pick up his “lady,” so also leaving before the shooting. One of the most conspicuous points of his testimony was his statement that sometime after 4 a.m, he received a call from Sean Spencer, the club’s bouncer who testified yesterday, in which Spencer told him there were a lot of shots outside the club, a van was seeing going around the corner, and he should come back immediately. He and Spencer had each other’s phone numbers, he affirmed. But yesterday Spencer, who has prior convictions for selling cocaine and soliciting prostitution, had strongly asserted that he never spoke with Bone, hadn’t spoken with him after the shooting, and in fact didn’t believe he even had Bone’s phone number. Bone also contradicted Spencer in another aspect: Spencer had insisted that he searched everyone for weapons before they were allowed admittance into the club, including Bone. But Bone said he was rarely searched since they all knew him well there, and he wasn’t searched for weapons the night of the shooting.

When Bone got to the scene that night, he saw Joe Guzman on the ground, face down, and Trent Benefield in the ambulance, which he followed to the hospital. He admitted lying to the officer in the ambulance, telling him he was Trent’s brother, but only in an effort to get him to allow Trent to speak with his mother on the phone.

It was the afternoon witness who has given the most pertinent, emotionally upsetting and, in my mind, heartfelt testimony thus far, though it wasn’t free of contradictions. Thirty-two-year-old mother of three Marseilles Payne, or “Trini,” was working as an exotic dancer that night at the club. She had one prior for second-degree assault, which she said was the result of stabbing her ex-lover who was beating her. She now works for the Department of Homeless Services as a medical assistant, and in fact, showed up in her scrubs. She quit working as a dancer at the club shortly after the shooting. She was good friends with Bell and all of the men in his party, having grown up with them in the same neighborhood.

That night, she began dancing on the front stage, but Bone shortly led her to the back, to Bell’s bachelor party. There were about 10 members of the party in all. She remembered serving Bell a beer. He seemed happy.

At some point that night there was a fight in the dancers’ changing room / back bathroom when a dancer brought her boyfriend into the room. A couple of other dancers needed the room to change for their next number. One of the dancers instructed the man to leave, as the room was for dancers only, and the man slapped her hard across the face. She and he began fist-fighting and Payne and her friend got between them and tried to break it up. Eventually they were able to push the man out the door.

Around 3:45 last call was announced and by 4 all customers had left. Payne went into the back and changed clothes, then waited for her night’s pay at the DJ booth. Trent had made tentative plans with her earlier to go to a restaurant for food after leaving the club. As she left the club, a man outside standing next to a black truck walked up to her, told her he enjoyed watching her dance and wanted to pay her to spend some time with him. She told him she “doesn’t do dates.” Though three weeks earlier a dancer had been kidnapped from the club, and others robbed, Payne wasn’t that worried about the man because she saw two male friends standing nearby. The man who asked her for the date got in front of her and walked with her but left her alone when she stopped to talk to her friends. She left them, rounded the corner where her car was parked, opened the trunk and put her dance bag inside. On the back window of her car was written “RIP Dallas,” for her boyfriend who had died in a shooting over a parking space only weeks earlier. She broke into tears upon relating this. “He was my best friend in the world,” she said.

While at her car, she saw Trent across the street getting into the rear passenger side of Sean Bell’s car. He called out “hey” to her, and she assumed he was going to drive up to her car and they could decide where to go for food. She said back to him, “okay,” and was just closing her trunk when Bell’s vehicle began to pull out. She said she heard a noise “like an engine revving up” and tires screeching. A minivan came up from behind her and crashed into Bell’s car. A man emerged from the driver’s side of the minivan, went to the front of the van and fired three shots into Bell’s car. Payne turned around and ran around the corner and hid in some bushes in the front yard of a residence, where she heard more gunfire, many shots; said she’s “never heard anything like it before.” Gasps spread throughout the audience at this. Payne claimed she never heard anything precede the shots, never heard anyone say “police, stop” or anything of the sort. She also never saw Detective Isnora, who according to opening statements — I’m pretty sure of both parties — was struck by Bell’s car when it pulled out. She also claimed Bell’s car didn’t back into reverse, going toward Isnora, and eventually hit the back wall, which was asserted in openings. When asked on cross how the shooter was able to get in front of the van, she said after the crash both cars backed up a little bit.

After the shots ended, Payne got up and ran back to the club. On the way she passed her friends again, who asked her why she was running. They hadn’t heard the shots. She ran into the club and screamed to Sean Spencer and others inside, “they were shooting, they’re shooting them, the cops are shooting them.” But she also testified that she hadn’t, at that time, realized the shooters were police officers.

After she collected herself, she went back to her car and tried to leave, but the area was filled with an ambulance, a helicopter and police who had now created a crime scene, of which her car was a part. She couldn’t take it. She saw the man who’d asked her on the date running down the street, now with a police badge dangling around his neck. Crying, she said she saw people from the car being lifted into an ambulance. (At this point, female members of Bell’s family burst into tears and were escorted by male members of the group outside of the courtroom.)

After someone in the club told police Payne had seen the whole thing, the police, she claimed, forced her to accompany them to the precinct. She told them, untruthfully, that she hadn’t seen anything, knew nothing, and needed to go home to her children. But they kept her there for 18 hours, wouldn’t let her talk to her children on the phone and wouldn’t give her anything to eat the whole time. She wasn’t released until midnight, after she gave in and gave a statement.

When asked on cross examination why she was so hesitant to give the police any information up front, since she wasn’t inculpating her friends with anything she said, she said simply that she didn’t want to get involved. When pressed by defense attorneys, who asked her if, not knowing who the shooters were, she feared her statement may somehow inculpate her friends of wrongoing, she insisted that was not the reason she didn’t talk. She then broke down, in what to me was some of the most heartfelt, saddest testimony of the day. She let loose on the defense attorney, screaming that she didn’t want to get involved, she didn’t want to be a part of this, she wanted a better life, she wanted to get her kids out of there, she hated having to be involved now, she had to relocate to a different borough because of this, she just wanted nothing to do with anything, she simply wanted … out…” The attorney stopped questioning and we took a break before the third attorney’s cross. Ms. Payne exited the courtroom to collect herself.

While it still didn’t make complete sense to me as to why she told the police up front she’d seen nothing, her sorrow and extreme frustration with her life — a life filled with shootings, violence, death, beatings, fights, struggle to make ends meet, fear for her daughters — was all too clear. I felt so horrible for her. Well, she’s now in a different place, with a new residence, a new medical job, so hopefully she’s on her way.

I saw a defense attorney on television news last night saying a lot of this would come down to credibility; whom the judge would find the most believable since testimony was so conflicting. It’s true that there are so many interested witnesses in this — everyone who possesses pertinent information seems to either be a friend of the victims or one of the accused. I feel like the biggest key though will be ballistics evidence, especially that regarding the cars — which was speeding, who crashed into whom, the paths of the respective cars — experts can make good determinations of these sorts of things. That and Isnora’s medical records showing any injuries from being struck by a car.

One other thing I want to say about Ms. Payne’s testimony regarding what went on at the precinct: I’ve seen numerous claims by defendants that police officers coerced them into making confessions by keeping them in solitary cells for hours on end, making threats, preventing them from leaving until they confessed, depriving them of food and water, and then, when they went to give in, feeding them details for their “confessions.” No one ever seems to take those claims seriously; people roll their eyes and accuse the defendant of making it all up because of course police officers never coerce or suggest, never distort or exaggerate. And then later, after the person has been convicted, new evidence comes to light showing that the defendant couldn’t have committed the crime because in fact he was somewhere else at the time, in another state even, or evidence comes to light incuplating someone else. It made me really upset to hear all the gasps in the courtroom when Ms. Payne recounted her day-long ordeal in the precinct. This trial is almost surreal; it’s like that Joyce Carol Oates short story where the black college student is condescending to the white one without knowing it, saying things like “it’s so great that you’re here. We know you’ll have to work hard to keep up because of your disadvantages, but you can do it…” “Double Negative” it’s called, or something like that. Right now in NY interrogations do not have to be videotaped in order for the confession they can produce to be admissible as evidence in court. There’s a movement underway to change this though, and many states have passed laws requiring interrogations to be taped. It is argued that this serves not only defendants but the police as well; this way they can prove a confession was not coerced and that they did nothing to suggest key evidence. It seems to me that there is no viable reason for not requiring interrogations to be taped; confessions are already videotaped, just not the process that led there. So the technology is already there. If people like Al Sharpton are really serious about change, about ending police misconduct and brutality against black men, and not merely participating in spectacle, supporting efforts at making this law in NY and throughout the country is a good place to start.

This obviously isn’t about dance, but, given my background, it’s something I care deeply about. If the trial lasts, as expected, a couple of months, I’m not going to be able to go to the whole thing, but I figured I’d go for a few days at least. Funny because, even though I’ve handled over 100 appeals, I’ve never even seen an actual trial. Not that this is a normal one in any sense, which is probably the most frustrating thing about it. There are many people — many of them black men like Mr. Bell — tried everyday, even in that same courthouse in Queens, some of them wrongly suspected by the police because of their race, and no one is talking about them. No one cares about them. Oftentimes their families don’t even show up to their trials. Just something for people to keep in mind in this absolute carnival the media is creating of this trial. You should have seen the cameras there. I counted nine network TV vans in total lining Queens Boulevard in front of the courthouse this morning; I didn’t even know there were that many local stations. And there was a guy with a television camera filming everyone as they, one by one, entered and exited the courtroom.

I got to the courthouse at 8:20 and there was already a line outside, which I joined. There were a few NAACP people in front, one woman playing a conga drum and some others chanting and carrying signs bearing Sean Bell’s picture and demanding justice. About ten minutes before 9, when trial was to begin, a group of white men, whom I assumed to be police officers or family and friends of the officer defendants, arrived and joined the line. As they walked past, the woman began beating on her drum, chanting grew louder, and another woman shouted, “I’m not afraid of your guns. You have guns, but I, I have the truth.” It wasn’t until around 9:15 that they let us in. By the time I got into the courtroom, the prosecutor had already begun his opening argument.

Anyway, if you haven’t heard about this case, Sean Bell is a black man who, on November 25, 2006, was killed by police gunfire upon leaving his bachelor party at a Queens strip club. The club had been the subject of many community complaints and the target of several police sting operations in an effort to crack down on drug selling and prostitution. A couple of arrests had been made there earlier that day. According to opening arguments, which took all morning, Detective Gescard Isnora, a young black man as well, who was acting as a primary undercover in a drug bust that evening in the club, overheard a dancer there tell another person a man had harassed and threatened her and made her feel his jacket, through which she felt what she thought was a gun. Isnora radioed to his team members, including Detectives Michael Oliver and Marc Cooper, to be prepared for this to turn from a drug bust into a “gun recovery” case. Upon leaving the club, Isnora observed Bell and some of his friends fighting with a man in an SUV, who was waiting for a dancer in the club, whom he heard threaten Bell’s group with a gun. According to Isnora, Joseph Guzman, Bell’s friend, said something to the effect that they would return to the man in the SUV with their own gun. Basically, Isnora radioed his team, the detectives all followed Bell to his car. Thinking Guzman had a gun, Isnora ordered Bell to stop his car, displaying his badge, but in a place that may not have been visible. It is also contested whether he identified himself as an officer. Bell kept driving, toward Isnora, running into him, then reversing and running into the police van containing Oliver. Thinking Guzman was reaching for a gun, Isnora yelled that to Oliver who began shooting, causing Cooper to shoot as well, thinking his colleagues were being shot at. In all, 50 bullets were fired killing Bell and injuring Guzman and another friend. There was no gun ever found in Bell’s car. That’s of course a hugely oversimplified nutshell, but I found the prosecutor’s opening statement to be confusing, mainly because it was so detailed as to who was where when and who radioed what to whom and who shot where, etc. etc. In any event, openings aren’t that important because they aren’t evidence; the testimony is what matters.

This is a bench trial (since the officers waived their right to a jury), so I figured the lawyers would behave more like appellate lawyers, rather than their dramatic, often rather bombastic, trial counterparts. But I was wrong. There is a jury, of course: the jury of public opinion; those of us in the audience, and those who will see and hear about the trial on TV or in papers. The attorney for Isnora, the black officer, in particular was a character. He was black, as was Cooper’s attorney (Cooper, by the way, is only charged with reckless endangerment for a single bullet that did not enter its intended target — Bell’s car — but was off 11-14 degrees and went instead into an Air Train subway platform where people were standing). Isnora’s attorney was very impassioned about his client and seemed very angry that the media has villified Isnora, making him out to be an evil police officer attacking a black man, when he, in fact, was a young black man himself who had come from the ghetto and could have easily ended up a druggie and a pimp, but instead worked his way up and now risks his life daily to protect his community. At one point during his opening, the attorney left the podium to stand behind his client in support.

About halfway through the prosecutor’s opening, a large group of people walked in, which, until they sat down in front of me, I hadn’t realized included Al Sharpton and Nicole Bell, Bell’s fiance and the first witness. (She took his last name after he died). She was a rather soft-spoken young woman, and she cried only when the prosecutor asked her what state Bell was in when she saw him that Saturday morning following the shooting (the answer was, in the morgue). I felt horribly for her and nearly cried myself. But please do not believe the news reports that she cried throughout. I just heard on ABC / 7 News that her testimony the whole way through was “emotional” and teary, and that is a ridiculous untruth, which anyone who was there knows. She kept it together very well, though it appeared to be an understandable struggle. Still, she only broke down once. I am actually rather astounded at the press’s lack of objectivity.

During lunch I overheard two journalists at the table next to me. One asked the other which way he was leaning thus far into trial. At that point we’d heard only openings and one witness who wasn’t on the scene. Plus, they should well know one of the basic foundations of our criminal justice system: the presumption of innocence.

We had two other witnesses today, neither of which gave a huge amount of revealing testimony. The first, an officer who examined the crime scene, displayed some pictures he took and some diagrams he drew of the club and surrounding parking lot and streets. They displayed the photos on some large screens so the audience could see, and not just the judge, who had his own computer screen in front of him. In particular, we saw some pictures of the damage done to the police van after it was hit by the car Bell drove. We still have to hear from the experts about exactly how much damage was caused, but it didn’t seem by the pictures alone to be all that huge — just some bumps and chipped paint, and the radiator underneath was knocked down and the license plate knocked to one side. The other witness was the club’s bouncer, who basically said he heard none of the commotion outside, not all that odd given there were two sets of heavy steel doors meant to block sound.

Justice Cooperman seems pretty untalkative thus far. I don’t envy his position.