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Donna took a deep breath, and Garrett felt her nerves. No matter how many times they rehearsed this at home, there was no way to re-create the stress of sitting on the witness stand and talking to a packed courthouse with twelve jurors hanging on your every word and television cameras rolling.
Come on, baby. Garrett encouraged his wife with a subtle nod. You’ve got this.
McIntosh, Virginia January 15, 2013 12:46 a.m.
Donna pulled her cruiser to the curb and aimed the vehicle’s spotlight at the front of the house, illuminating the two-story home against the otherwise dark neighborhood. She was responding to a 911 call of shots fired at 421 Montgomery Lane and was the first officer on the scene. Well past midnight, there were no lights glowing from inside the house and other than the few neighbors loitering outside the scene was quiet.
A man walked up to the squad car as Donna was climbing out. She held him at bay with an outstretched arm and a hand on her gun. The man stopped his advance and held his hands up.
“I live next door,” he said. “I’m the one who called nine-one-one.”
Donna kept her attention simultaneously on the house, the man in front of her, and the growing crowd of neighbors slowly gathering around her.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I was watching television when I heard a loud bang. I muted the TV and then heard another, so I opened my back door and stepped onto my deck. A few seconds later, I heard a third bang. Only this time I was outside and recognized it immediately as a gunshot. Shotgun, probably a twelve-gauge. I’m a hunter so I know that sound.”
Donna pointed at the house where her spotlight was directed. “You’re sure the shots came from that house?”
“Sure as shit, ma’am. ’Scuse my language.”
“Inside the house?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Keeping her eyes on the front door, Donna grabbed the radio clipped to her shoulder. “This is Officer Koppel at the scene for calls of shots fired at four twenty-one Montgomery.”
“Go ahead, Officer.”
“I have a witness who confirms shots fired from inside the home. Requesting backup as I assess the house.”
“Roger that. On the way, three minutes out.”
“I’ve got plenty of guns, ma’am,” the helpful neighbor offered. “Just say the word and I’ll give you all the backup you need.”
“Stay put,” she told him as she headed toward the house.
Her shadow grew longer as she strode through her car’s spotlight, until the black image climbed the front of the house and stood over her like a phantom. She removed her flashlight from her belt and shined it through the front windows, but curtains blocked her view. When she reached the front porch, she banged her flashlight against the door.
“Police! Open the door.”
When there was no answer, she looked behind her to see the group of neighbors watching from the street. Thankfully, another cruiser’s lights blinked in the distance as reinforcements arrived. A minute later she was standing on the front porch with two other officers. A third had gone around back to check things out, and now his voice crackled over the radio.
“Quiet back here. No lights. No signs of life.”
Since Donna was the first to arrive, the scene was hers to command. She reached for the handle of the front door and was surprised to find it unlocked, the door clicking open as soon as she twisted the knob. She looked at her fellow officers, who nodded their heads. With weapons drawn, they entered the house.
CHAPTER 2
District Courthouse Thursday, September 26, 2013 3:30 p.m.
GARRETT WALKED BACK TO THE PODIUM AND SET HIS HANDS CALMLY on the sides of the lectern. He consulted his notes.
“At that moment, Officer Koppel, as you entered the home, what was your state of mind? What were you thinking?”
Donna paused a moment. “I was nervous.”
“You had a witness who lived next door to the Quinlans tell you that he distinctly heard gunshots emanating from inside the Quinlan home. Nervousness would be a fair emotion for anyone to feel. But what else did you and your fellow officers feel?”
