AT OFFICERS' TRIAL, NO SHOW OF BLUE, BUT PLENTY OF DARK SUITS

It has not been terribly difficult to find a seat in the Brooklyn
courtroom where three police officers are on trial on charges of
abusing Michael Mineo or helping to hush it up.

Some seats are occupied by relatives of the three officers; others are
taken up by a smattering of apparently recreational court watchers.
There are various investigators and lawyers and always at least one
representative of the police officers' union.

But during three weeks of a trial in which police officers are charged
with doing wrong, the proceedings have rarely, if ever, been observed
by colleagues in uniform.

The Police Department says that officers are allowed to attend court
on their own time, and to wear their uniforms if they want to. In any
number of recent trials involving people suspected of injuring or
killing police officers, men and women in blue have filled the gallery
in significant numbers.

More than a year ago in a neighboring courtroom in State Supreme Court
in Brooklyn, for example, uniformed officers from the 71st Precinct
filled the benches as a jury heard the case against three men accused
of killing Officer Russel Timoshenko, drawing complaints from defense
lawyers who said there was no room for anyone else.

Officers also frequently turn out to support their comrades accused of
crimes, though not consistently.

John D. Patten, the veteran police-defense lawyer now representing
Officer Richard Kern -- who is accused of sodomizing Mr. Mineo with a
baton in the Prospect Park subway station -- said officers packed the
courtroom when police officers were on trial for fatally shooting
Amadou Diallo, but were scarce when other officers were accused of
brutalizing Abner Louima with a broomstick.

As the current trial got under way three weeks ago -- without a
uniformed police officer in sight -- Patrick J. Lynch, the head of the
Patrolmen's Benevolent Association, explained the absence to The
Chief, a newspaper for civil service workers, saying: "It's the
beginning of the trial."

Now the trial is nearing its end, with closing arguments scheduled for
Tuesday. On a handful of days, officers who were not in uniform showed
up. Another officer charged in the case, Andrew Morales, said that
friends from the 71st Precinct stopped by, but that he had heard they
were discouraged from coming.

Stuart London, who is defending the third officer, Alex Cruz, said he
had not encouraged other officers to attend, because he did not want
to "artificially pack" the courtroom. "That can boomerang on you," he
said.

Two men whose uniforms consist of dark business suits seldom seem to
miss a day. Stephen C. Jackson and Kevin L. Mosley, who have no
official role in the criminal case but represent Mr. Mineo in a
multimillion dollar civil action stemming from the same events, have
been emotional spectators and scorekeepers

Inside the courtroom, Mr. Jackson nods when a witness backs up his
client's claims, drops his head when those claims are contradicted,
and angrily whispers "objection" when he thinks a prosecutor should
stand up and make one.

Outside the courtroom, the two men are happy to give interviews, as
they did on Thursday, when Mr. Mineo showed up for the first time
since his own testimony two weeks ago, to watch Officer Kern on the
stand.

Mr. Jackson called Officer Kern's testimony "skewed" and Mr. Mosley
repeated what has become his mantra: "Michael Mineo is not on trial
here."

The two lawyers, like the defendants, have a significant stake in the
outcome : Mr. Mineo's lawsuit originally claimed damages of around
$220 million, but that rose to about $350 million in an amended complaint.

Defense lawyers have referred derisively to Mr. Mineo's lawsuit and
his private lawyers -- they always seem to note that there are two of
them -- as proof that Mr. Mineo is pursuing false claims against the
officers in the hopes of a giant payout.

Of course, Mr. Cruz also has two lawyers, as Justice Alan D. Marrus
gently pointed out in response at one point. Michael A. Martinez, a
lawyer in Mr. London's firm, has been heard from less than the other
defense lawyers, but he seems to have made the most of his limited
role: a specialist in the workings of the Police Department's Internal
Affairs Bureau, he turned a routine cross-examination of a police
investigator into a referendum on the quality of the investigation
into Mr. Mineo's claims.

Where Mr. London's questions are confrontational -- projectiles
designed to knock witnesses off balance -- Mr. Martinez's queries are
fired rapidly, but politely. He asked Sgt. Steven Alfano, who led the
Internal Affairs investigation, to talk about Mr. Mineo's medical
records -- a line of questioning that ended with Sergeant Alfano
saying that prosecutors had stopped the police from delivering those
records to a doctor who could evaluate them.

"Alfano was big," Mr. Martinez said afterward.

In the later stages of the trial, as Mr. London has focused on medical
evidence, Mr. Martinez, a former Bronx prosecutor, has served as an
"extra set of eyes," he said. "The client seems to appreciate it."

Mr. Patten also has an assistant. He met Igor Bass, a 29-year-old
photographer and computer specialist, a few years ago, when Mr. Bass,
an immigrant from Ukraine, was tending to a computer network at a
neighboring law firm.

Last week, Mr. Bass suddenly found himself swearing to tell the truth
in court: he had graduated from network administrator to witness, when
Mr. Patten chose him to play video surveillance footage taken from
cameras near the scene in court. Under a rather gentle
cross-examination, he told prosecutors he earns $75 an hour

Mr. Bass said he had little preparation for his time on the stand: Mr.
Patten, he said, "took me to lunch." His real love is photography, he
said, and in court, one of his screensavers of a shrine he
photographed on a recent trip to Japan popped up.

"He's a genius," Mr. Patten said. "And his rates are so much lower
than the other experts."