has seen the paper today and says “that little problem” is mentioned. Being very evasive, Linda says that “one little thing”—item investigators were questioning her about—the “electric thing,” I think that may be what they found your DNA on
.
Jacobs convened the grand jury and his first witness was Diane. She had been granted total immunity against prosecution but was still a hostile witness. Most of her answers were the simple phrase, “I don’t recall” and it was apparent she was trying to protect Goodwin.
She would be Jacobs’ only witness. Shortly after the grand jury hearing started, Jacobs was fired for staging a failed attempt to get the state attorney general to prosecute his boss, DA Tony Rackauckas, for corruption. Removal of the star prosecutor in the fledgling Goodwin case seemed to sound the death knell. The prosecution scrambled to remain on track with the remaining witnesses by appointing one of Jacobs’ top deputies, but in the end the hearing fizzled out.
Lillienfeld wasn’t happy about the situation.
“I thought Jacobs was such a good fit because he was so aggressive and passionate, I didn’t think I’d find another guy who was a fit for me and this case,” Lillienfeld remarked. But what the detective ended up getting was someone like his old partner, which was the best he could hope for.
If Jacobs’ style resembled Lillienfeld’s, then David Brent’s was like Robinson’s. Methodical and precise, Brent was less street fighter and more of a scholar. With his fair share of high-profile cases and death row convictions, Brent was being groomed to take over the homicide unit and was the natural successor.
“I was feeling confident from the other cases I had won that I could do this,” Brent said years later. “There were enough hooks that I could make a plausible story with a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work. I thought I could convict Goodwin. I was completely convinced that he was good for it, I had no doubt in my mind.”
Brent picked up where Jacobs left off. Only this time, he wasn’t going to give immunity to Diane or Goodwin. A new grand jury had been empanelled in July and new subpoenas went out. But one of the witnesses wouldn’t be showing up.
Boat broker Bill Redfield, who was caught on a wiretap asking Diane if a “weak link” existed pertaining to the murders, had died of an illness. It was a major blow to Lillienfeld and Brent; they wanted to ask him about that conversation.
Goodwin was called as a witness and told the grand jury that he wanted to talk so the truth would come out, but he wouldn’t be able to do so. Instead, he read a prepared statement saying he had a Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination.
The grand jury didn’t produce any spellbinding evidence, but it did cement Brent’s and Lillienfeld’s perception that Goodwin was guilty.
Both Lillienfeld and Brent were getting close to pulling the trigger on Goodwin: They wanted to charge him with murder, arrest him and search his Dana Point home—all without any fanfare. They didn’t want him to learn about the events and disappear again or, worse yet, use one of his several guns he said were missing. An arrest and search warrant were signed on Dec. 7, 2001, and placed under seal by the court. Brent filed a criminal complaint the same day, charging Goodwin with one count of conspiracy and two counts of murder with the special circumstances of multiple murder, lying in wait and murder for financial gain. It made him eligible for the death penalty. The arrest went down on Dec. 13, around 3 PM.
Police knocked first and then broke the door down when no one answered.
Ironically, a camera on loan from the CBS newsmagazine show “48 Hours” was sitting on a tripod and rolling at the time.
On the tape, knocks were heard and then Goodwin can be seen grabbing a back brace and hurriedly putting it on. “Just a minute,” he yelled, walking toward the door. He never got there.
.
Jacobs convened the grand jury and his first witness was Diane. She had been granted total immunity against prosecution but was still a hostile witness. Most of her answers were the simple phrase, “I don’t recall” and it was apparent she was trying to protect Goodwin.
She would be Jacobs’ only witness. Shortly after the grand jury hearing started, Jacobs was fired for staging a failed attempt to get the state attorney general to prosecute his boss, DA Tony Rackauckas, for corruption. Removal of the star prosecutor in the fledgling Goodwin case seemed to sound the death knell. The prosecution scrambled to remain on track with the remaining witnesses by appointing one of Jacobs’ top deputies, but in the end the hearing fizzled out.
Lillienfeld wasn’t happy about the situation.
“I thought Jacobs was such a good fit because he was so aggressive and passionate, I didn’t think I’d find another guy who was a fit for me and this case,” Lillienfeld remarked. But what the detective ended up getting was someone like his old partner, which was the best he could hope for.
If Jacobs’ style resembled Lillienfeld’s, then David Brent’s was like Robinson’s. Methodical and precise, Brent was less street fighter and more of a scholar. With his fair share of high-profile cases and death row convictions, Brent was being groomed to take over the homicide unit and was the natural successor.
“I was feeling confident from the other cases I had won that I could do this,” Brent said years later. “There were enough hooks that I could make a plausible story with a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work. I thought I could convict Goodwin. I was completely convinced that he was good for it, I had no doubt in my mind.”
Brent picked up where Jacobs left off. Only this time, he wasn’t going to give immunity to Diane or Goodwin. A new grand jury had been empanelled in July and new subpoenas went out. But one of the witnesses wouldn’t be showing up.
Boat broker Bill Redfield, who was caught on a wiretap asking Diane if a “weak link” existed pertaining to the murders, had died of an illness. It was a major blow to Lillienfeld and Brent; they wanted to ask him about that conversation.
Goodwin was called as a witness and told the grand jury that he wanted to talk so the truth would come out, but he wouldn’t be able to do so. Instead, he read a prepared statement saying he had a Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination.
The grand jury didn’t produce any spellbinding evidence, but it did cement Brent’s and Lillienfeld’s perception that Goodwin was guilty.
Both Lillienfeld and Brent were getting close to pulling the trigger on Goodwin: They wanted to charge him with murder, arrest him and search his Dana Point home—all without any fanfare. They didn’t want him to learn about the events and disappear again or, worse yet, use one of his several guns he said were missing. An arrest and search warrant were signed on Dec. 7, 2001, and placed under seal by the court. Brent filed a criminal complaint the same day, charging Goodwin with one count of conspiracy and two counts of murder with the special circumstances of multiple murder, lying in wait and murder for financial gain. It made him eligible for the death penalty. The arrest went down on Dec. 13, around 3 PM.
Police knocked first and then broke the door down when no one answered.
Ironically, a camera on loan from the CBS newsmagazine show “48 Hours” was sitting on a tripod and rolling at the time.
On the tape, knocks were heard and then Goodwin can be seen grabbing a back brace and hurriedly putting it on. “Just a minute,” he yelled, walking toward the door. He never got there.
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