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| Some of the exhibits entered as evidence during the proceedings. |
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| This ominous sign stands next to the metal detector outside the courtroom. |
A large sign outside the courtroom says cell phones and pagers must be turned off and put away while in the courtroom. But I already know this order is not being enforced. Reporters from several Omaha TV stations and the Omaha World-Herald have been tweeting the proceedings, along with some relatives of the victims and casual courtroom observers. So my cell phone stays on as I enter 10 minutes before the scheduled 9 a.m. start.
Entering Judge Gary Randall's courtroom is like walking into a church. The floor is carpeted and the seating for those not part of the prosecution, the defense or the jury resembles church pews – sans the kneelers. But that is where the similarities end. A large TV screen hangs to the left of the judge and another is suspended above the jury box. Sheriff's deputies – three in all, one of them armed with a portable metal detector – enter the courtroom with Garcia. Reporters with laptops and notebooks in hand take their seats in the second row that is reserved for them. Others find it less crowded to take a seat on the long bench in the back of the courtroom. But beware sitting so far back. You are likely to miss some of the softer-spoken testimony or exchanges and your view might be blocked by one of several white pillars in the room that seats about 100 people comfortably.
In a trial that has been three years in the making, I had expected more people to be in attendance. It is quite possible that the first week of testimony – which included graphic crime scene photos – featured a larger turnout. But the audience today only numbers close to 70.
Minutes before the scheduled start, Garcia's three defense attorneys enter first. The prosecution team follows about a minute later. Even Judge Randall's boyfriend is here, seated in the back row with a friend. I took a seat where I could see the judge, Garcia and the big screen TV near the judge. But my view of the jury is limited to three of the six jurors in the front row. I am also accompanied by a friend, Dave, who sits to my right. His wife, Sonya, is Judge Randall's court reporter. Wearing a bright red top, she is seated to his left, a few feet from the jury box. I am anxious to watch her in action and see what a challenge it can be to record courtroom questions and testimony that sometimes comes fast and furious.
Today, Garcia is dressed in a suit and black-and-white striped, long-sleeved shirt. The shirt is almost reminiscent of old-fashioned prison garb, only the stripes are narrower. A blue box of tissues sits to his right. Those tissues were the source of interest a few days ago when a deputy originally denied Garcia an entire box of them after asking for more than what he was originally given. Garcia's inquiry about getting the entire box of tissues is reportedly one of the few times he has spoken in court in three years.
Much like the past two or three days of the trial, it is clear things will not be starting on time. The judge summons the defense and the prosecution teams to his chambers while Garcia sits alone, meticulously removing his glasses and using two tissues to wipe them off. Nearly 20 minutes after the scheduled start, the attorneys and judge are still out of sight and the jury has not yet arrived. Finally, at 9:23, counsel returns. Two minutes later, we "all rise" and Judge Randall enters. A minute later, the jury enters and we rise again. This time, we stand for more than a minute as the 12 jurors and four alternates enter through a side door next to the jury box. Judge Randall reminds them that they are not to be contacted by anyone about the case. It appears clear that someone has tried to contact a juror about the case. His admonishment to them as a group could well indicate more than one person has been contacted.
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| Omaha World-Herald reporter Henry Cordes typed away in the back of the courtroom. |
As the first witness is called to the stand, a glance around the courtroom reveals who is live tweeting or taking down testimony on their own. Veteran Omaha World-Herald reporter Henry Cordes is seated in the second row with a mini-laptop. His colleague, Todd Cooper, is in the back row corner, laptop on his lap. Seated next to him is KETV's David Earl. A third Omaha World-Herald reporter, Alia Conley, sits on the right side of the courtroom, closer to the jury box and begins tweeting. (The newspaper regularly touts on social media that it has the most reporters covering the trial). WOWT's media representative, Erin Murray, sported a black WOWT jacket when she entered the courtroom. Like Cordes, she is also seated in the left side pews, closer to Garcia.
Garcia has shifted himself to the far end of the defense table and is seated directly facing the jury. He has his glasses on, is taking notes and is using a headphone pressed to his left ear to enhance the courtroom audio. At least for now he is paying attention.
The testimony by retired Clark County, Illinois, Deputy sheriff Kurt Callahan begins with the lead prosecutor, Douglas County Attorney Don Kleine, thanking him for his public service. Then the first piece of evidence from the prosecution today goes up on the court monitors. It is an aerial view of an interstate interchange in Indiana, not far from Terre Haute. Marked with a yellow tag as Exhibit No. 1727, it shows the location of where part of a gun was found that is believed to have been involved in the shooting death of Dr. Roger Brumback, who was murdered along with his wife, Mary, at their home in May of 2013.
The gun, packaged in a plastic bag, is examined by the defense team and entrusted into evidence "with no objection." Kleine says it appears to have been taken apart and enters five additional photos of it as additional pieces of evidence as to its condition when it was found. I notice that there is a proliferation of PCs in play in the court. The prosecution team's attorneys, the court's own computer system and the laptops used by Cooper, Cordes and Earl. Only the defense team has a Macintosh – a silver MacBook sporting the familiar Apple logo.
When the defense begins its cross examination of Callahan, Attorney Robert Motta Jr. asks who called 911 to report finding the gun, whether Callahan picked it up, whether this is a common area of the interstate for truckers to pull over and take a rest break. Through it all, Garcia is watching and listening to the questioning with a slight smirk on his face. As the morning wears on, I will come to learn that the smirk seems to be more of a permanent expression than a random one.
The first sign of levity in all the seriousness comes when Callahan is asked by Motta Jr. if he immediately put the gun into an evidence bag and whether he ran the gun through the NCIC database. After some back and forth between the two, Callahan leans forward into the microphone in front of him and tells Motta Jr. in a southern drawl, "I don't know what you are trying to get me to say." The quip draws laughter from the audience, the prosecution and even some of the jurors.
When it is time for Kleine to question Callahan again, I begin to notice a pattern. He and his colleagues on the prosecution team have a tendency to stand when questioning a witness while Motta Jr. and the defense remain seated, some of them even rocking back and forth in their chairs. This habit becomes even more apparent when the prosecution's next witness, Omaha Police Detective Derek Mois, enters the courtroom.
In reading previous coverage of the trial, it is clear there is little love lost between Mois and Motta Jr. Mois was at the Brumback murder scene and is now being questioned by the only female on the prosecution team, Brenda Beadle, who also stands while questioning Mois. The defense says photos Beadle wants to enter into evidence "have never been seen before" and a "sidebar" between the prosecution, the defense and Judge Randall ensues.
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| A cell phone and tablet recovered from Garcia's car. |
When the sidebar ends and testimony resumes, the defense objects nearly immediately to the photos again, which results in another sidebar. Finally, Exhibit 1741 is admitted into evidence as "a demonstrative aid for the jury," Beadle says. The photos are computer-generated illustrations showing the possible trajectory of bullets which struck Dr. Brumback as he stood in the entryway of his West Omaha home.
As Detective Mois pivots in his chair and directly faces the jury box to his left during his testimony, Garcia is now slumped back in his chair. He is no longer writing. But any chances that he will nod off – as he has done in the first eight days of the trial – are put aside as Judge Randall calls for the morning break at 10:22 a.m. As nearly everyone files out of the courtroom, Cordes uses the break to move to the back and pound away on his mini laptop. Dave and I head to the front of the courtroom to check in with his wife, who describes how difficult it can be when two people are talking at once. "If two people are talking at once and the judge starts talking, I only listen to what the judge is saying," she tells us. She also says all the courtroom proceedings are captured on audio, which she can later refer to. "But it is rare that I have to do that," she said.
Twenty minutes later, everyone is back in the courtroom and the jury is seated again. Jurors sit in three rows of six. Three blue boxes of tissues – identical to the one Garcia has in front of him – sit on each level of the jury box. Each juror wears an identification badge sporting "JUROR" in large, bold lettering. Earlier, while I was hanging up my coat in the back of the room, I noticed about 40 juror badges on the top of the coat rack. One of these could potentially get you into some secured areas of the courthouse, so it seems odd that they would just be laying around for the taking.
As the trial resumes, Detective Mois matter-of-factly describes his investigative process of Garcia and what led police to track down the 40-year-old former Indiana doctor who was fired from Creighton University's residency program in 2001. The testimony is less-than-riveting for now. And despite the recent break, many in the courtroom are no longer listening as intently as before. The audience of observers is a bit of an eclectic mix, much like you would see at a Sunday church service. A few people in their 20s, several elderly couples – some relatives and friends of the victims. The media representatives. The TV producers taking notes for possible "large-scale" network pieces. Two Douglas Country sheriff's deputies, one of them a woman who keeps taking her jacket on and off. "I'm getting hot and cold flashes," she tells me.
Garcia's eyes are nearly shut as Detective Mois describes what a Louisiana license plate looked like from 2005 to 2008. Witnesses in a Dundee neighborhood that was home to the murders of 11-year-old Thomas Hunter and a housekeeper, Shirlee Sherman, have described the suspect vehicle as a Honda CRV with an out-of-state plate. Judge Randall occasionally strokes his chin and takes notes as he listens intently. But two jurors in the front row of the jury box are not so attentive and appear to have nodded off themselves. It is only when Detective Mois says an incoming call to Garcia's cell phone was received near Atlantic, Iowa – a town "west of Omaha" that many in the courtroom finally perk up. "East of Omaha," a few mutter, prompting the prosecution to correct him.
Minutes later, the droll of testimony about phone calls and possible motel stays in West Des Moines have even Judge Randall struggling to pay attention. No longer taking notes, no longer stroking his chin – as he is prone to do when listening to testimony – the white-haired judge appears to either be very deep in thought or very tired. When Beadle asks Detective Mois why Garcia's purchase of a gun in March of 13 was "so significant," the defense immediately objects. Judge Randall seems startled by the sound. He jerks his head forward, much like someone who has suddenly been awakened, then stares blankly ahead as he appears to gather his thoughts and process what has just happened. After a few seconds of silence, he summons the prosecution and defense teams to his bench for a sidebar. Was Judge Randall really listening? Or had he nodded off? We will never know, absent the presence of cameras in the courtrooms, which are prohibited by state law.
As the prosecution continues its questioning, the phrase "Why is this significant," becomes a common tactic for Beadle to attract the attention of the jury, which appears to be wondering if the lunch break is approaching. It is only when she approaches some large maps of Omaha – resting on easels near the jury box – that every member of the jury appears to be engaged and attentive.
As Detective Mois goes on to explain how the Omaha Police Department created two task forces to investigate Garcia, I begin my sixth page of meticulous note-taking. I am learning about the NCIC database, about cell phone "pinging" (to identify a mobile phone's location) and even how long it takes to drive from the Wingstop near 72nd and Pacific to the Brumback's home (less than five minutes). As the prosecution ends its questioning of Mois, it is clear the most interesting portion of the day's testimony is still to come. But at precisely 11:55 a.m., Judge Randall announces a break for lunch, with special instructions to the jury not to discuss the case with anyone, even among themselves. For me, there will be plenty of discussion in the coming days of what I have witnessed, what I believe will weigh in Garcia's favor, and how the prosecution will go about tying him to the scene of the two double murders.
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| The gun recovered from the shoulder of an interstate off-ramp. |
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