Carmona Case May Dangle by Hat Thread

When 18-year-old Arthur Carmona returns next month for an Orange County court hearing that could lead to a new trial for him, you couldn’t blame him for feeling disoriented.

For starters, one of the strongest witnesses against him at his original trial in 1998 is, in effect, slated to be testifying on his behalf.

If that’s not enough of a switcheroo, Carmona’s original lawyer likely will, in effect, be testifying against his former client’s desires for a new trial.

This all calls to mind the hawker’s cry outside the ballpark: “You can’t tell the players without a scorecard!”

This would all sound oddly amusing if Carmona weren’t cooling his heels in prison while the legal chairs are rearranged.

Here’s how it happened:

Carmona was convicted in October 1998 for two armed robberies he says he didn’t commit. Then 16, he was convicted on the basis of witnesses’ testimony, but in the absence of any physical evidence linking him to either robbery.

Two separate teams of attorneys have argued that Carmona deserves a new trial because of inadequate representation by his attorney, Kenneth Reed, who has defended his performance but also said he’d like to see Carmona get another trial.

With Carmona’s appeal resting largely on Reed’s handling of the case, Reed may have to testify. Indeed, Judge Everett Dickey noted last week that, except for Carmona, the most important person at the Aug. 21 hearing would be Reed.

Historically, the odds are long against winning such an appeal. A client must prove not only that the representation didn’t meet acceptable standards but also that the failure hurt the defendant’s chances of winning the case.

No defendant is guaranteed a perfect defense, and lawyers have wide latitude in how they defend a case.

The district attorney’s office may like those odds as the Carmona hearing approaches, but it can’t be looking forward to hearing from their one-time key witness Casey Becerra.

She has filed an affidavit saying prosecutors misled her about the strength of the case against Carmona and that the information might have influenced her identification of him.

Jurors Said They Caved In to Pressure

Deputy district attorney Jana Hoffman disputes Becerra’s account. She says Becerra may have mixed up different conversations with her and that she may have been swayed by my post-trial support of Carmona.

A year ago Dickey dismissed Becerra’s allegations without further inquiry. Now, he says he needs to hear testimony. At a minimum, Hoffman is left with the distinct possibility that one of her best witnesses will testify that she no longer is certain that Carmona was the robber.

The stage is set, then, for this: one side arguing that the defense attorney was inadequate, with the other side arguing that the prosecutor misled a crucial witness.

That would be against a backdrop in which two Carmona jurors have publicly said they weren’t convinced of Carmona’s guilt but caved in to peer pressure from the other 10 jurors.

Is that the kind of proceeding we want to protect?

Becerra’s uncertainty illustrates the point: She was the only witness whose testimony definitely placed Carmona at the scene of that robbery.

If I were the prosecutor, I’d spend less time asking why she recanted her testimony and focus on whether I prosecuted the right person.

From there, it’s a short step to acknowledging the case against Carmona doesn’t hold up.

Becerra’s recanting leaves only two still-unwavering witnesses against Carmona. One was a cashier at an Irvine juice club and the other a woman who saw someone from about 30 to 50 yards away climbing a wall behind her house--someone the prosecutors believe was Carmona on his “escape route.”

Both witnesses were taken to view Carmona. He was dressed in what was common clothing for young Latinos: the so-called L.A. Raiders garb of dark clothing and white shirt underneath.

Both witnesses made preliminary identifications, which could easily reflect the fact that Carmona was dressed like the robber. In other words, he passed the first threshold. Both witnesses then asked police if he had a hat, because the person they both saw was wearing one.

Carmona was hatless when stopped. However, police retrieved one from the house of the getaway driver already linked to the juice club robbery--a hat known to have been worn by the robber--and put it on Carmona, though it had not been linked to him in any way.

With the hat (and with neither witness knowing it hadn’t been found in Carmona’s possession), both witnesses made the logical leap: What are the chances that someone dressed like the robber, and about the same age and size, just happened to have the distinctive cap in his possession?

It would account not only for their identifications but also the certainty with which they made them. Neither witness ever saw other people of similar age in a lineup wearing a hat. Thus, neither ever had a basis of comparing Carmona to other young Latinos in a hat.

That’s the remaining thread that ties Carmona to a robbery. It’s the thread that still has him looking at 12 years of hard time.

Behind closed doors, out in the open, I don’t care.

Someone, please, cut this ever-thinning thread.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by writing to him at the Times Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com.