The Witness

by Mike Newall

Kamal Murray had been called to testify against the person who allegedly shot him. He arrived at the courtroom in the 18th District police headquarters at 8:15 the other morning, just as his subpoena demanded. A court coordinator directed victims to the left side of the courtroom and defendants to the right. He recognized Kamal. "What side you on today, Kamal?" he asked.

Kamal shrugged and walked into the courtroom, the same cramped, drab space where he appeared four days earlier on unrelated theft charges. Those charges are still pending. His other priors include drugs, guns and assault. Kamal is 24 years old. On this day, he picked out an empty seat in the victims' gallery and dug his hands into his pockets.

The Honorable Judge Jimmie Moore presided. Kamal appeared before Moore two years earlier for assault. The case was dismissed.

Assistant District Attorney Tiffany Oldfield picked up a folder from her desk, read its contents and searched the crowd for Kamal.

"Ready in the room," she announced.

Kamal stood with Oldfield as a police officer escorted in the handcuffed defendant, Aquil Johnson. Not yet 21, Aquil has prior gun charges. Now, he faced attempted murder. He had retained private counsel. Kamal and Aquil stood in front of the judge, separated by their lawyers. They did not look at each other. Oldfield began by asking Kamal to recall the date of May 13, 2008.

"Do you remember being at the 5900 block of Turner Street at approximately 11:10 p.m.?"

"Yeah."

"Do you recall being shot?"

"Yeah."

"How many times were you shot?"

"Three, I think."

"Where were you shot?

"Both arms and the chest."

"Do you recall giving a statement to detectives at the hospital the night you were shot?"

"No."

Oldfield did not look surprised. She handed Kamal a copy of the statement.

"Look at the first page, flip it over, then please look at the second page."

Her voice was stern now. She was cross-examining her own witness.

"Do you recall initialing this?"

"No."

"Do you see the initials at the bottom of the statement: K.M.? Could they stand for your initials?"

"No."

She asked if he remembered picking out the defendant's photo.

"No."

"You're under oath today and subject to perjury."

"I didn't see no gun. I didn't see nobody."

Next, Oldfield called Detective Omar Jenkins.

"Did you and your partner take this statement from Kamal Murray that night he was shot?"

"Yes. ... It was given to him to see if any corrections were needed. No corrections were needed and he signed it."

"Did you come back later that night with a photo array and did the complainant circle and sign the defendant's photo?"

"Yes ... he was shot in both arms and his wounds were leaking. Some of his blood dropped onto the defendant's photo."

Jenkins then pointed to a blood droplet on the photo.

"That's his blood," he said.

Oldfield requested Jenkins read the statement. The defense objected. Oldfield cited precedents. The judge allowed it.

Jenkins began to read:

"Question: What can you tell me about what happened? Answer: I was sitting in my friend's green Pontiac Grand Prix and Quil came to the window of the car, smiling, talking shit. He backed up, let off three shots. I got hit. I told my friend he better take me to the hospital."

The beef was over a girl.

"He disrespected my girl. I told him not to ... we were in front of the Chinese restaurant when Quil came up on us ... [He was in] a black Delta, '93/'94, no tint, driver-side fender broke."

In the statement, Jenkins asked about the gun.

"Aluminum black handle," Kamal answered, "a Jennings 9mm or .380."

He knew the shooter's full name.

"Aquil Johnson ... I've known him my whole life."

Kamal lowered his head. The commonwealth rested its case. The defense argued for all charges to be dropped.

"The commonwealth has provided a witness who testified he did not see who shot him," the lawyer argued.

Oldfield countered: "Your Honor, the complainant gave a statement ... was given a chance to review it ... he knew the car ... he knew the handgun ... he identified the person ... he left a blood droplet where he signed his name."

Judge Moore sat in silence. The courtroom was quiet except for the hum of an old computer.

"The defendant will be arraigned. ..."

Johnson was escorted out of the courtroom, headed back to prison. He passed by Kamal. They did not look at each other.

Oldfield prepared to call the next case. A fellow prosecutor congratulated her. A small victory.

Kamal Murray went home.

Dispatch is filed from all corners of the city. E-mail mike.newall@citypaper.net.