Your honor, the state calls officer Tamara Cole. Kyle Puit's face drained of whatever little color it had retained over 4 days of trial. He gripped the armrests of the witness chair. His knuckles went white. Tamara Cole was 28 years old and had been a patrol officer for 3 years and walked down the aisle of courtroom 3B with the particular careful composure of someone who has been rehearsing steadiness for days and intends to maintain it.
She took the oath. She sat down. She looked at a point slightly above and between both tables, which was where she would continue looking for most of the next 20 minutes. Webb approached calmly. Officer Cole, you and the defendant served together at the East Side Precinct before his transfer to the Cedarwood Heights sector.
Correct. Yes, sir. Could you describe for the jury a specific conversation you had with Officer Puit approximately 3 days before the incident on Maplewood Court? Cole took a breath. She had asked herself in the week since the incident many times whether she should have recorded the conversation, whether doing so without consent was an invasion, whether the content justified the method.
She had arrived through that process at a clear answer. The content justified it entirely, and if anything, she had waited too long to act on what the recording contained. "I was in the precinct locker room," she said. Officer Puit was talking about his transfer. He said the Cedarwood Heights sector was too quiet.
He said he was bored. He said he was going to make a name for himself so he could get into a specialized unit. He specifically mentioned Cedarwood Heights and said that rich neighborhoods get complacent. That was the word he used and that he was going to start and I'm quoting him here shaking the trees over there to see what fell out. A murmur moved through the gallery.
Judge Odum's gavel made a single quiet tap. Did he say anything else? Webb asked. Cole paused, not hesitation. The pause of a person who is about to say something specific and wants to say it exactly right.
He said he knew exactly what kind of people to look for. She said he used a racial slur. He said those people didn't belong in houses like that and that all he needed was one excuse to his exact words were hook one up and make a headline for himself. The murmur in the gallery became something larger. Judge Odum's gavel came down with authority twice and the room returned to an effortful silence.