Resurrection Walk

“Sergeant Sanger, you are excused,” Coelho said. “Mr. Haller, call your next witness.”

Keeping to my plan, I called Deputy Keith Mitchell. He was brought in from the hallway, placed under oath, and seated in the witness stand. He was a large Black man with a shaved head. His biceps stretched the sleeves of his uniform shirt to their limit. I moved back to the lectern with my legal pad. I didn’t bother asking the judge to rule that Mitchell was a hostile witness.

After a few preliminary questions that established that Mitchell was a member of the same anti-gang unit as both Roberto Sanz and Sanger, I got down to the meat of his testimony.

“You are a big man, sir,” I began. “How tall are you?”

Mitchell looked confused by the question.

“Uh, six four,” he said.

Morris stood up.

“Your Honor, can we keep the examination to things pertinent to the case?” he asked.

“Sorry, Your Honor,” I said. “I’ll move on.”

Coelho frowned.

“Don’t meander, Mr. Haller,” she said.

“I won’t, Your Honor,” I said. “Deputy Mitchell, you were at the crime scene on the night of Roberto Sanz’s murder, correct?”

“That is correct,” Mitchell said.

“But you were off duty, were you not?”

“I was.”

“How did you come to be there?”

“The department sent out a text alert that there had been an officer-involved shooting in the AV, and then like maybe ten minutes later another member of our unit called me and said it was Robbie who got shot. We were close, Robbie and me, so I went to the house.”

“And that was Stephanie Sanger who called, correct?”

“Correct. Sergeant Sanger.”

“Was she a sergeant at that time?”

“Uh, no. Not then.”

“And where were you when Deputy Sanger called you?”

“I was at my home in Lancaster.”

“What is your home address?”

Mitchell hesitated and Morris jumped up to object to revealing the witness’s home address to the public.

“Your Honor,” Morris said. “This could put this witness and his family in danger.”

“I withdraw the question,” I said before the judge had to rule.

“Very well,” the judge said. “Proceed.”

Morris nodded his approval like he had once again scored some kind of point over me.

“Deputy Mitchell, let’s go back to that night,” I said. “Were you part of the investigation of Deputy Sanz’s death?”

“No, I was not,” Mitchell said.

“But on the evidence report, it says you had possession of the gunshot-residue pads taken during the examination of Lucinda Sanz. Is that true?”

“Yes. That evidence was handed to me by another deputy to safeguard until investigators were on the scene. When the homicide investigators arrived, I handed the evidence over.”

“What exactly was the evidence?”

“As I recall, it was two GSR pads in an evidence bag.”

“And which deputy gave that bag to you to, as you say, safeguard?”

“Sergeant Sanger. I mean, Deputy Sanger at the time.”

I paused and looked down at my pad and braced myself for more pushback on my next line of questioning.

“Deputy Mitchell,” I finally said, “were you aware that Deputy Roberto Sanz was a member of a sheriff’s clique that had become the focus of an FBI invest—”

“Objection!” Morris practically shrieked before I could finish my question. He jumped to his feet.

“Assumes facts not in evidence,” he said. “Counsel for the petitioner is again trying to cloud these proceedings with innuendo he has absolutely zero evidence to support.”

“Mr. Haller, response?” the judge said.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said. “If allowed to continue with the petition, these facts will come to light.”

The judge considered this for a long moment before responding.

“Once again, I’m going to hold you to that, Mr. Haller,” she said. “The witness may answer.”

“Your Honor,” Morris said. “This is highly—”

“Mr. Morris, did you not hear the court’s ruling?” Coelho said.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Morris said. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Morris sat down and all eyes returned to Mitchell. For dramatic effect, I asked the question again.

“Deputy Mitchell, were you aware that Deputy Roberto Sanz was a member of a sheriff’s clique that had become the focus of an FBI investigation?”

Mitchell hesitated in case Morris wanted to try a new objection, but the assistant AG remained quiet.

“No, I was not aware of that,” Mitchell said.

“At the time of Sanz’s death, were you a member of a sheriff’s clique called the Cucos?” I asked.

“No, I was not.”

“Were you ever questioned by the FBI in regard to being a member of a sheriff’s clique?”

“No, I was not.”

“Do you have a tattoo anywhere on your body that indicates that you are a member of a sheriff’s clique called the Cucos?”

Morris stood up again. “Your Honor, the State adamantly objects,” he said. “Counsel has a habit of trying to smear his own witness. What comes next? Will he ask the witness to take off his clothes so he can look for tattoos?”

Coelho held a hand up to stop me from responding.

“I want to see counsel in chambers before we proceed further down this path,” she said.

With that, she adjourned court and left the bench for her chambers. Morris and I soon followed.

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