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Authors: Justin Peacock
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said. "I was
there the first time you picked him out."
AS WE cut across the open space in the center of the Gardens, heading to the apartment that Latrice Wallace shared with her brother, I turned to Myra.
"I'm not sure Yolanda liked us," I said.
"I'm not sure I liked her," Myra replied. "But that was huge just now. That was
Fantasy Island
."
"Because we've never been told anything about a photo array."
"We certainly have not. And we certainly should have. We've got a
way to potentially throw out Yolanda's whole ID of our guy now."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," Myra said. "First of all we have the discovery violation—the DA had an obligation to tell us about the failed ID procedure. Second, the fact that Yolanda couldn't make an ID on the first try casts doubt on the accuracy of any subsequent ID she did make. We'll demand a
Wade
hearing, challenge Yolanda's lineup ID. We get that tossed, the DA's case is in
serious trouble. Plus there's the fact that she admits that she was schtupping
our vic."
"Did you just say 'schtupping'?" I asked.
"My mother taught me that good girls don't say 'fuck,' " Myra said.
"It's too much of a coincidence, though, don't you think?"
"We're back to talking about the case now, right?"
"We're talking about the fact that the state's best witness was fucking the vic," Myra said.
"Was that clear enough?"
"If we got rid of her ID, would that get rid of the whole case?"
"Maybe," Myra said. "Even if it still went forward, I don't see a
way for them to win without Yolanda."
"Sounds like we should write a motion soon."
"I completely agree," Myra said. "Provided that by 'we' you meant
you, and by 'soon' you meant right away."
8
L ATRICE WALLACE opened the door of the apartment she shared with her brother, Devin, with the chain on, peering out at us cautiously through the crack. We knew her brother wouldn't be there—he was still in the ICU. Myra introduced us, telling Latrice that we represented Lorenzo Tate and wanted to ask her about what she'd seen that night.
To my surprise, Latrice didn't show any resistance to answering our questions. On the contrary, she seemed resigned to it, as if she'd expected us. It didn't seem to occur to her that she could just refuse to cooperate, and it certainly wasn't in our interest to offer her that option.
Latrice was attractive, as Lorenzo had advertised: she was a thin, self-possessed young woman, with copper-tinted hair flowing halfway down her back. The three of us sat in the stylish living room Latrice shared with her brother, which was filled with better furniture than I had in my apartment. Given the condition of the Gardens generally, and of the building in particular, the apartment seemed completely incongruous. At least until I remembered what Devin Wallace did for a living.
"I just wanted to find out what you actually saw that night," Myra said.
"It's my understanding that you spoke with Lorenzo Tate a few hours before the
shooting; is that right?"
"I talk to him when he come by here."
"What did you two talk about?"
"He ask if Devin be home. I say no. He ask if Devin left money for
him. I say I ain't seen nothing like that. Then he talked some shit."
"What do you mean?"
"He just said some shit 'bout my brother, something like,
'Motherfucker don't know who he's fucking with, but he's going to get his.' "
"What happened next?"
"Strawberry was out."
"And what time was this?"
"Must've been like seven, seven thirty or so, 'cause I'd just
gotten back from work."
"And is that when you usually get home after work?"
" 'Round then, yeah."
"So after Lorenzo left, what did you do then?" Myra asked.
"I went back to what I was doing, cooking up something to eat."
"You didn't call up your brother, try to get ahold of him?"
"I don't get up in Devin's business," Latrice said again. "If my
brother got something he want to say to Strawberry, he knows how to find him."
"Did you see either your brother or Strawberry at any point later
there the first time you picked him out."
AS WE cut across the open space in the center of the Gardens, heading to the apartment that Latrice Wallace shared with her brother, I turned to Myra.
"I'm not sure Yolanda liked us," I said.
"I'm not sure I liked her," Myra replied. "But that was huge just now. That was
Fantasy Island
."
"Because we've never been told anything about a photo array."
"We certainly have not. And we certainly should have. We've got a
way to potentially throw out Yolanda's whole ID of our guy now."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," Myra said. "First of all we have the discovery violation—the DA had an obligation to tell us about the failed ID procedure. Second, the fact that Yolanda couldn't make an ID on the first try casts doubt on the accuracy of any subsequent ID she did make. We'll demand a
Wade
hearing, challenge Yolanda's lineup ID. We get that tossed, the DA's case is in
serious trouble. Plus there's the fact that she admits that she was schtupping
our vic."
"Did you just say 'schtupping'?" I asked.
"My mother taught me that good girls don't say 'fuck,' " Myra said.
"It's too much of a coincidence, though, don't you think?"
"We're back to talking about the case now, right?"
"We're talking about the fact that the state's best witness was fucking the vic," Myra said.
"Was that clear enough?"
"If we got rid of her ID, would that get rid of the whole case?"
"Maybe," Myra said. "Even if it still went forward, I don't see a
way for them to win without Yolanda."
"Sounds like we should write a motion soon."
"I completely agree," Myra said. "Provided that by 'we' you meant
you, and by 'soon' you meant right away."
8
L ATRICE WALLACE opened the door of the apartment she shared with her brother, Devin, with the chain on, peering out at us cautiously through the crack. We knew her brother wouldn't be there—he was still in the ICU. Myra introduced us, telling Latrice that we represented Lorenzo Tate and wanted to ask her about what she'd seen that night.
To my surprise, Latrice didn't show any resistance to answering our questions. On the contrary, she seemed resigned to it, as if she'd expected us. It didn't seem to occur to her that she could just refuse to cooperate, and it certainly wasn't in our interest to offer her that option.
Latrice was attractive, as Lorenzo had advertised: she was a thin, self-possessed young woman, with copper-tinted hair flowing halfway down her back. The three of us sat in the stylish living room Latrice shared with her brother, which was filled with better furniture than I had in my apartment. Given the condition of the Gardens generally, and of the building in particular, the apartment seemed completely incongruous. At least until I remembered what Devin Wallace did for a living.
"I just wanted to find out what you actually saw that night," Myra said.
"It's my understanding that you spoke with Lorenzo Tate a few hours before the
shooting; is that right?"
"I talk to him when he come by here."
"What did you two talk about?"
"He ask if Devin be home. I say no. He ask if Devin left money for
him. I say I ain't seen nothing like that. Then he talked some shit."
"What do you mean?"
"He just said some shit 'bout my brother, something like,
'Motherfucker don't know who he's fucking with, but he's going to get his.' "
"What happened next?"
"Strawberry was out."
"And what time was this?"
"Must've been like seven, seven thirty or so, 'cause I'd just
gotten back from work."
"And is that when you usually get home after work?"
" 'Round then, yeah."
"So after Lorenzo left, what did you do then?" Myra asked.
"I went back to what I was doing, cooking up something to eat."
"You didn't call up your brother, try to get ahold of him?"
"I don't get up in Devin's business," Latrice said again. "If my
brother got something he want to say to Strawberry, he knows how to find him."
"Did you see either your brother or Strawberry at any point later
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