Against the advice of counsel, The Bandaged One took the stand in his own defense Tuesday. I'll let our news story carry the details, but my short take: Like so many defendants who testify, Steve Rocco was doing great – until the cross-examination began.
Under direct examination, by his public defender, he had been quick, engaging, told a plausible story and truly had me pulling for him.
That feeling of goodwill started to unravel pretty quickly when prosecutor Lynda Fernandez started with a seemingly simple let's-get-acquainted question that had nothing to do with the alleged theft itself: When did he last teach school?
Oh, it was a long time ago, he said. Can't remember. "Many, many schools," for various periods of time. He finally came up with the names of two O.C. schools, but still wouldn't even offer a specific decade in which he taught.
There's never been a question that he taught, at least as a sub, so what's the deal? It just made him seem obstinate, paranoid, or both.
Then, to believe his version of events of the day in question, you'd have to believe that two Chapman officers lied about details both important and not-so-important. Rocco's one of those underdogs who just makes things harder for himself.
Before he took the stand, though, I was impressed that the defense has come up with a brilliant tactic: Show that the ketchup bottle didn't have little value – it had no value. Do that, and there's no crime.
What's become apparent is that there's great disparity in the valuation of the ketchup. Let's refresh. I originally placed the value at $1.98, based on what you'll pay if you order a 14-ounce bottle of Heinz from Amazon. The prosecution put the value at $1.20 – what Chapman's cafeteria pays.
Defense attorney Erica Gambale put it at 60 cents, which she illustrated for jurors during her opening statement by holding up two quarters and a dime. This was based on her assumption that the bottle was half-full.
A little later, one of the security guards testified that the bottle was actually three-quarters full. So back up to 90 cents of value. But Gambale shrewdly established that after opening a bottle of ketchup, one is supposed to refrigerate it. Then it comes out that at the time Rocco is allegedly swiped the bottle, 10:15 a.m., the cafeteria wasn't open yet because it was a Saturday.
I think I see where she's going: The cafeteria workers had forgotten to clear the bottle from the outdoor table the night before and put it in the refrigerator. And if the ketchup had been put out the day before at 8 a.m., by the time Rocco allegedly took it, it had been unrefrigerated for more than a day. In other words, it was spoiled – and had no value.
The Refrigeration Defense. I like it.
I detected other evidentiary issues. Specifically, the absence of the ketchup bottle itself. It was apparently returned to the cafeteria and, perhaps, ick, returned to service. (Note to self: See whether spike in ptomaine at Student Health Services last fall.)
As an amateur student of the law, I know that under the Rule of Clue, you only succeed if you can put the candlestick in the Library with Colonel Mustard. Here, the D.A. has Mr. Ketchup at the Cafeteria – but hasn't yet acquired the bottle.
I wish I could tell you there was a palpable What the hell … feeling coming from the jury box when Fernandez finally revealed the that petty theft was strong on petty and no-so-strong on theft. She described the alleged circumstances: That the security officer saw him pick up the bottle, put it in a bag and take off on his bike. She told jurors it was worth $1.20 – "valued so low because of the way the university purchases ketchup." (Look, I think the Pentagon could have purchased the ketchup and it would have still come in under $5, but she's working with what she has.)
Anyway, I suspect the jurors were waiting for her to add something – anything – to the list of items Rocco supposedly swiped. But after just 11 minutes, she just stopped her opening statement.
Trial continues Wednesday with Rocco still on the stand. Assuming he isn't beamed aboard overnight.