“So youwalked in. Put your tote down in the kitchen. Took your coat off. You said that you only stood on the threshold of that primary bedroom for about three seconds before running out just before 5:57 p.m. So five minutes. I’m trying to understand what you were doing for five whole minutes prior to seeing Katy Loomis in the bedroom.”
“I think you kind of answered it,” she said. “I wasn’t keeping a timer. But I came in. I set down my things. I took my coat off and hung it up in the hall closet.”
“That took five minutes?” I asked.
“Objection,” Quick said. “Counsel is assuming facts not in evidence. She’s declared five minutes as if it’s a proven fact.”
“Well, we have a five-minute gap from the time Ms. Rodney entered the home until the time the 911 call was placed. I’m trying to understand what was happening in that time frame.”
“Overruled, Mr. Quick,” the judge said.
“Okay.” I turned back to Jenna. “So it’s your testimony that setting down your tote and taking off your coat took close to five minutes?”
“No. That can’t be right. That maybe took a minute.”
“So is it possible you did more than just set your tote down and hang up your coat?”
“I must have,” she said. “But I don’t remember. I might have.”
“You took your supplies out of your tote, didn’t you?” I asked.
“What?”
I showed her another photo from the Loomis house, taken that morning. Jenna’s tote was on the kitchen table but the lid wasopen. A few bottles of various cleaning supplies were on the counter. The vacuum cleaner was propped against the wall.
“Oh, right,” she said. “Yes. I took my coat off. Brought the vacuum out of the same closet where the coats are kept. Then I took my supplies out.”
“So you exaggerated some of the things you told the police. You didn’t just walk right in and hear moaning from the bedroom, did you?”
“I guess not,” she said. “But as I said before. Things were kind of a blur. I panicked. It was all so shocking.”
There was a natural question to ask, but I left it. She had misremembered details about everything she did that morning when she walked in. She had changed a few small, key details about what she claimed to have seen in the bedroom. They were minor things, but I could use them in closing arguments later. Maybe.
“You said you saw Mrs. Loomis in the bedroom, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You said it was obvious Mr. Loomis was already dead when you saw him, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You claim you saw Mrs. Loomis holding a knife.”
“Yes.”
“You never saw Mrs. Loomis using the knife, did you?”
“No.”
“You have no idea what happened in that house before you arrived, do you?”
“No.”
“All you know is what you think you remember from that morning?”
“I don’t think it,” she said. “I remember it. Every detail.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I have no further questions at this time.”
