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“Let’s do the math, Officer McShea. If it takes half an hour to get to Pat’s from your beat, it would take a half an hour to get back, right?”
“Sure.”
“So far that’s an hour. Now, did you eat the cheesesteak at Pat’s, at one of the tables outside, or did you take it out and go back to your district?”
“We ate at Pat’s. Outside, standing up, next to that big counter with the peppers and ketchup.” McShea turned to the jury in appeal, palms up. “I mean, you have to eat at Pat’s. It’s tradition.” The jury smiled, and so did McShea, who let his gaze slip toward the back of the gallery. Be
“Now, since this was in early summer, on May nineteenth, I bet Pat’s was hopping that night, wasn’t it?”
“Sure. Pat’s was busy. Pat’s is always busy.”
“So there was a line out front of the window, where you get the cheesesteaks, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you and Officer Reston wait in line to place your order or did you go to the front of the line?”
“I don’t remember.”
Be
“Objection, asked and answered, Your Honor,” Hilliard said.
Be
Hilliard rose on his arms. “Your Honor, anything Officer McShea ate for di
Be
Judge Guthrie put up a hand and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll allow it, in a very limited scope.”
“Thank you,” she said, as Hilliard eased back into his chair and Be
“Probably if it was a busy night, we’d go to the front of the line. If it was a slow night and we didn’t have jobs, we’d wait in line.”
“Was it a slow night the night of May nineteenth?”
McShea hesitated. “I don’t recall.”
“Well, if it were a busy night in your district, you wouldn’t have left for a cheesesteak, would you?”
“Objection!” Hilliard said, rising. “Your Honor, defense counsel is asking this witness to speculate.”
“Is it just speculation that this police officer would do his duty?” Be
“Sustained.” Judge Guthrie nibbled the calico stem of his glasses. “You need not answer the question, Officer.”
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a busy night on the job,” McShea said anyway.
“Thank you,” Be
“Five, ten minutes at most.”
“By the way, how much did di
“I don’t remember.”
Be
“No.”
“Did you pay for di
“Uh, I think Reston did. He’s always got dough on him. He’s single.”
Be
“Objection, Your Honor!” Hilliard called from the prosecution table, and Judge Guthrie frowned deeply.
“Sustained. Ms. Rosato, I caution you to temper your questions with civility.”
Be
“Inhaled is more like it. It doesn’t take too long, not the way I eat. Fifteen minutes, a half hour, at the most.” McShea glanced again at the back of the gallery, and the look wasn’t lost on Be
“Let me understand your testimony, Officer McShea.” Be
She continued. “Officer, taking your estimate, that’s an hour and a half to get and eat di
“Better than mine.”
“How many other cars cover your district of the city?” “One.”
“So when you’re not there, the other patrol officers are left with maybe sixty city blocks to cover by themselves?”
McShea looked sheepish again. “Hey, I’m not proud of it. It was a onetime thing.”
“Nevertheless, how would you characterize your district, Officer McShea, as a high-crime area or low-crime area?”
“It depends.”
“If I told you the Philadelphia Inquirer characterizes it as high crime, would you be surprised?”
“I’m not surprised by anything in the Inquirer,” the witness shot back, but Be
“Fine.” Be
“No.”
“You didn’t have a meeting with Detective Della Porta that night?”
“No.”
“You didn’t have a score to settle with Detective Della Porta?”
“Objection!” Hilliard said, half rising. “There’s no foundation for that question, Your Honor. What is defense counsel even talking about?”
“Sustained,” Judge Guthrie ruled, sliding his chair forward so quickly that a banging noise reverberated through the courtroom’s microphone system.
Be
“Yes.”
“And you testified she did this while you were arresting her, on Winchester Street, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Rowhouses line Winchester Street, do they not?”
“Sure.”
“And you arrested Alice Co
McShea looked heavenward for a moment. “I don’t know. It was at the end of the block, the east end.”
“Was there anybody else who heard this except you and your partner?”
“Nobody else was there.”
“Did Ms. Co
“No.” McShea snorted derisively. “People don’t usually shout murder confessions in public. Her voice was lower than normal.”
Be
“Yes.”
“So I assume her face was down on the pavement and her hands were behind her while you were attempting to handcuff her, is that right?”