Page 88 of Resurrection Walk

A few minutes later we were seated at the table in the courtroom, and Judge Coelho took the bench. Sergeant Sanger was called back to the stand for cross-examination. I was pleased to see that she was once again in uniform.

Morris’s cross was pedantic. He painstakingly walked Sanger through her seventeen-year career with the sheriff’s department, detailing her different postings, promotions, and commendations. He went so far as to present as an exhibit the plaque she had received the year before from the Antelope Valley Rotary Club as Law Enforcement Officer of the Year. In doing so, Morris was revealing his strategy — the case would come down to the believability and character of the deputies involved. That’s why he was laying it on thick.

He finished strongly with questions that went to the heart of Lucinda Sanz’s claim of malfeasance in her conviction.

“Sergeant Sanger, are you aware of any sort of corruption or wrongdoing in the investigation of Roberto Sanz’s death?” he asked. “And I remind you that you are under oath.”

“No, sir,” Sanger responded.

The reminder that the witness was under oath was grandstanding, but Morris’s message to the judge was clear:This is a professional and highly decorated law enforcement officer and it is her word against that of the petitioner, who previously pleaded no contest to this crime.

When Morris was finished, it was my turn again. I moved quickly to the lectern.

“Brief redirect, Your Honor,” I said.

“Proceed, Mr. Haller,” the judge intoned.

“Sergeant Sanger, when Mr. Morris went over your career and commendations, he seemed to leave one item out,” I said. “Isn’t that correct?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sanger said.

“Well, I’m talking about that pin you’re wearing on your uniform above the breast pocket. What is that for, Sergeant Sanger?”

I had seen the pin the day before, but it was only after reviewing Sanger’s testimony that I realized what I could do with it.

“That’s a badge for qualifying at the sheriff’s range,” Sanger answered.

“The shooting range, you mean?” I asked.

“Yes, the range.”

“To get a pin like that for your uniform, you have to do more than qualify, don’t you?”

“It’s given to the top percentage of shooters.”

“What percentage is that?”

“Top ten percent.”

“I see. And what is a pin like that called?”

“I don’t know.”

“It means you are an expert marksman, does it not?”

“I don’t use gendered words.”

“Okay, how about the wordshooterinstead ofmarksman? That pin you proudly wear on your uniform means you qualified as an expert shooter, does it not?”

“I’ve never used those words.”

In a show of frustration, I raised my hand and then dropped it down on the lectern with a thud. I asked the judge if I could approach the witness to show her an exhibit previously accepted by the court. After permission was granted, I carried over the photos of Lucinda at the shooting range.

“Can you identify the people in that photo?” I asked.

“Yes,” Sanger said. “It’s Robbie Sanz and his then-wife, the defendant, Lucinda Sanz.”

“You mean the petitioner?”

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