“I think it would be a mistake to put Joe on the stand,” Jeff said.
“Joe’s fingerprints put him in Carasco’s house, next to the body,” Amanda said. “Don’t we need his testimony to explain why he was there?”
Jeff was certain that the women had already decided on a course of action and were challenging him to see if he would come to the same conclusion.
“Joe sounds like he’s telling the truth when we talk to him, but I don’t know how he’ll hold up under one of Vanessa’s cross-examinations. He’s told us that he has a bad temper. And Vanessa will rip apart his story about being blackmailed. Let’s face it. It makes more sense for a homeless man to be burglarizing a home for money.
“And I see another problem. Didn’t Judge Wright rule that evidence that Joe had killed Carlos Ortega in an illegal fight could not come in at the trial?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t that come out if Joe explains why he was in a position to be blackmailed?”
“Good point,” Robin admitted.
Jeff shook his head. “You’re probably going to have to wait until you see how the state’s case comes across before you decide whether to call him.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
In 1972, in Furman v. Georgia, the United States Supreme Court struck down all of the existing death penalty schemes in the United States. In the course of writing the opinion, the court established the principle that “death is different.” Robin Lockwood knew that this was true in more ways than one. The rules governing death cases and the jurisprudence of capital cases differed from other criminal cases, but the emotional impact on lawyers who represented defendants in death cases was also different.
When Loretta asked her how she could take on a death case, Robin had given her an answer that was mostly philosophical. She hadn’t talked about the way your gut reacted with every mistake and the fear that gripped you when you wondered if you had done everything possible to save your client’s life, knowing that the failure to dot one i or cross one t could kill her.
Robin didn’t know if there was an afterlife. If there wasn’t, all a person had was the span of years allotted to her. Death ended the experience, and she knew that one mistake on her part could put an end to Joe Lattimore’s existence. That was a very heavy burden, and Robin felt the pressure mount as the start of Joe’s trial neared.
The night before she was scheduled to give her opening statement, Robin barely slept. Every time she started to drift off, she thought of something else she had to do. When she woke up at five, she felt groggy and a little nauseous. Strong coffee helped her combat her fatigue, but nothing could settle the butterflies that flitted through her stomach or quell the awful feeling that she wasn’t up to the task of saving Joe Lattimore’s life.
* * *
On Monday morning, Joe, dressed in a suit and tie Robin had purchased for him, was led out of the holding area and into the courtroom. Joe had always been a private person, and he hated being the center of attention. When he fought, the worst part was the walk from the dressing room through the crowds to the ring, when every eye was on him. Once the fight started, he was so focused on his opponent that he didn’t hear the crowd, but having to sit in court, unable to move, with nothing to do with his hands, knowing that everyone was staring at him, was hard to handle.
As soon as he was out of the holding area, Joe looked for Maria. Robin had arranged a seat for her in the front row of the spectator section behind his chair at the defense table. Joe smiled when he saw his wife. He couldn’t touch her, but they talked whenever they could, and she would tell him about Conchita, who was trying to stand and talk.
“How are you doing?” Robin asked Joe as Judge Wright called for the jury.
“I’m hanging in,” Joe answered, trying to sound brave. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he was convicted. Locked in a cage forever or put to sleep like a rabid dog were the most realistic results. He trusted Robin Lockwood to do her best, but he found it hard to see a happy ending.
“Are both sides ready to proceed?” Judge Wright asked.
As soon as Robin and Vanessa said they were, the judge nodded to Vanessa. The prosecutor walked to the jury box. After a few minutes, Robin knew that she was going to lose the battle of the opening statements.
Vanessa told the jurors that circuit court judge Anthony Carasco would testify that he had received a call from his wife at seven fifteen in the evening and his wife sounded fine. The judge would then tell the jury that he had seen a man who resembled the defendant fleeing the scene of the crime a little more than an hour later. She promised to corroborate the judge’s testimony by producing Ian Hennessey, a deputy district attorney who had been with the judge the evening that Carasco’s wife was murdered.
Vanessa told the jurors that a forensic expert would tell them that prints that matched the running shoes the defendant was wearing when he was arrested were found inside the Carasco home, and Joseph Lattimore’s fingerprints and palm print were on a wall in proximity to the body of Elizabeth Carasco. The state medical examiner would testify that Elizabeth Carasco had been beaten to death. Vanessa promised that evidence would establish that Joseph Lattimore, who was homeless and desperate for money, was a professional boxer. She had concluded her opening statement by explaining that professional boxers used hand wraps to protect their knuckles and that hand wraps covered in Elizabeth Carasco’s blood and stained with Lattimore’s DNA had been found near the scene of the crime.
Vanessa’s opening was loaded with facts. Robin had not decided whether she would call Joe to the stand, and she did not have any evidence that would prove that Joe was set up by Betsy Carasco’s real killer, so she was reduced to talking in general terms about the burden of proof and a juror’s duty to keep an open mind until he had heard all of the facts. When she sat down, she knew that most of the jurors were probably ready to convict.
* * *
Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon had been in the back of the courtroom during opening statements. They left when Vanessa called her first witness.
“Detectives,” Brent Macklin said.
Anders and Dillon turned and saw a handsome young man approaching.
“Do you have a moment?” Macklin asked, flashing an ingratiating smile.
“That depends on what you want,” Anders answered.
Macklin handed Roger a business card. “I’m working on a story about illegal, no-holds-barred fights. I understand that you’re the detectives on Mr. Lattimore’s manslaughter case, and I was wondering if I could talk to you for background about these fights.”
“This is an ongoing investigation, so we can’t comment on it.”
“Do you know how frequently they’re held, who runs them, or where they hold the fights?”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t help you,” Roger said.
The detectives started to turn away.
“I’ve heard rumors that Judge Carasco is involved,” Macklin said.
The detectives stopped.
“Who told you that?” Anders asked.
“My source talked to me on the condition that I not reveal his or her identity.”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Dillon said. “Do you have any evidence to back it up?”
“Right now, it’s just speculation. I was hoping you could tell me if I’m on the right track.”
“Like we said, we can’t comment on an ongoing investigation, but you should be careful about making unfounded accusations. Now, we have to go.”
Macklin watched the detectives walk away. Then he returned to the courtroom.
CHAPTER FORTY
Vanessa filled the rest of the Monday court session with noncontroversial testimony from the police officers who had secured the crime scene. On Tuesday morning, Vanessa called Dr. Sally Grace, the medical examiner, who told the jury about the autopsy and the cause of death. On cross, Robin got Dr. Grace to admit that you did not have to be a professional boxer to beat someone
to death and that a woman could have inflicted the injuries that killed Elizabeth Carasco.
Other than her brief cross of the medical examiner, Robin had not asked very many questions of the State’s witnesses, and she noticed that Joe had gotten more depressed as Tuesday morning wore on.
“Why didn’t you cross-examine those other witnesses?” he asked Robin when Judge Wright called the morning recess.
“You don’t question a witness just for the hell of it, Joe. Everyone Vanessa called told the truth, and nothing they said proved you killed Betsy Carasco. Can you think of anything I should have asked?”
Joe thought for a moment. Then he shook his head.
Robin didn’t tell Joe that his real problems would start after lunch, when the testimony of the prosecutor’s next witness would go a long way toward convincing the jurors that Joseph Lattimore was guilty of murder.
* * *
“The State of Oregon calls Wendell Appleton, Your Honor.”
Moments later, a narrow man with a washed-out complexion limped down the aisle toward the witness stand with the aid of a cane. Appleton was dressed in a tweed jacket, dull white shirt, dark slacks, and a drab brown tie. He reminded Robin of a civics teacher she’d had in tenth grade.
“Mr. Appleton,” Vanessa asked after the witness was sworn, “how are you employed?”
“I’m a fingerprint specialist with the Oregon State Crime Lab.”
“What are the duties of a fingerprint specialist?”
“I compare and analyze fingerprints that are submitted to the crime lab. By this, I mean I receive fingerprint evidence from crime scenes, and I compare them to fingerprints that are recorded at a jail or other place to see if they match.”
“How often do you do this?”
“I work eight hours a day, five days a week.”
“How long have you been working as a fingerprint expert?”
“It will be fifteen years, next February.”
“Where did you start analyzing fingerprints, Mr. Appleton?” Vanessa said.
“I worked at the Federal Bureau of Investigation Fingerprint Identification Division in Washington, D.C.”
“What was your job at the FBI?”
“I classified, compared, and analyzed fingerprint submissions in the criminal division of the identification division.”
“Did you receive any educational training at the FBI?”
“Yes. We went through several months of training, followed by a one-on-one tutorship from more senior examiners. My probationary period was about a year.”
“How long did you work for the FBI?”
“A little over four years.”
“Where did you work after that?”
“I was at a private company that did background checks for school bus drivers, day care workers, things like that.”
“This also involved comparing fingerprints?”
“Yes.”
“How long were you there?”
“Three years.”
“And after that?”
“I moved to Oregon after being hired by the crime lab.”
“Other than your initial training with the FBI, have you had more training?”
“Yes. I go to thirty or more hours of training each year at a minimum. For example, I’ve attended seminars taught by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the Arizona, New Jersey, and Illinois State Police, among others. I’ve been all over for training.”
“What are the two basic properties of fingerprints that make them useful for identification, Mr. Appleton?”
“First, they are unique. No two people have ever been found to have the same fingerprints, palm prints, or footprints.
“Second, they are permanent. Fingerprints begin to form on the skin in the womb, and they stay permanently until a person dies and the skin decomposes. The only exception would be if there was permanent scarring or a person had the prints surgically removed.”
“How are fingerprints compared for purposes of making an identification?” Vanessa asked.
“We use ridge characteristics, and we look to see if a ridge characteristic on one print is identical to the ridge characteristic on another print. Some ridge characteristics end abruptly, and we call them ending ridges. Some divide, and we call those bifurcations. We also look at the ridge structure, the flow of the ridges. Is it straight or curved? We also look for anomalies within an individual ridge. Things like that.”
“Mr. Appleton, I’m going to show you State’s Exhibit 13, and I’ll put an enlarged photo of this on an easel for the jurors, so they can see what you’re looking at. What is this?”
“That is a print that was taken from the defendant’s right index finger when he was arrested.”
“Do you have a full set of prints that were taken from the defendant when Exhibit 13 was lifted?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa had the set marked and entered in evidence.
“I’m going to show you Exhibit 14. What is that?”
“It’s the defendant’s right palm print. It was also taken at the jail.”
Vanessa introduced Exhibit 14 into evidence and placed a blowup of the palm print on another easel.
“What is a latent fingerprint, Mr. Appleton?”
“A latent fingerprint is created by the sweat and oil on the skin’s surface.”
“Can you see it with the naked eye?”
“No. Latents are invisible, and you have to use additional processing with chemicals or powder to make them visible.”
“Were you called to the home of Judge Anthony Carasco and his wife, Elizabeth Carasco, on the evening Mrs. Carasco was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Where was Mrs. Carasco’s body when you arrived?”
“She was lying on the floor in the living room of their home in proximity to the wall of the living room closest to the entryway of the home.”
“Did you search the area surrounding the body for latent and observable prints?”
“I did.”
“Did you discover any latent prints that were made by the defendant?”
Robin stood. “Objection, Your Honor. Whether any of the latent prints from the crime scene match Mr. Lattimore’s prints is a decision the jury will have to make.”
“Sustained,” the judge ruled. “Ask another question, Mrs. Cole.”
“Did you discover any latent prints in the living room?”
“I did.”
“Were there many latents?”
“Yes. Most belonged to the victim and her husband.”
“Did you find any latents in proximity to Mrs. Carasco’s body that did not belong to her or her husband?”
“I did.”
“Did you compare any particular prints to the set of prints that were taken from the defendant after his arrest?”
“Yes. Of special interest were a fingerprint I discovered on the living room light switch and a palm print on the wall near the light switch.”
Vanessa handed Appleton two exhibits.
“Can you identify these exhibits for the jury?” she asked.
“Exhibit 29 is the fingerprint I lifted from the light switch, and Exhibit 30 is the palm print I found on the living room wall.”
“I’d like to introduce State’s Exhibit 29 and 30, Your Honor.”
“Any objection, Ms. Lockwood?”
“No.”
Vanessa put blowups of the two new exhibits on other easels.
“Can you explain how you went about comparing Exhibit 29 to Exhibit 13?”
“I placed them side by side and used a magnifying glass to find points that looked identical or any points that were not identical.”
“If you found a point that was not identical, what would you have concluded?”
“I would have concluded that the two prints did not match.”
“Did you find any points that did not match?”
“No.”
“How many points did you find that did match?”
“What did you conclude?”
“That the known print and the print from the light switch were made by the same person.”
“Are thirteen matching points enough to reach that conclusion?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa repeated her questions with regard to the palm print, and the witness stated that he had found thirteen points of comparison on the palm print and concluded that it matched the print of Joe’s palm taken at the time of his arrest.
“No further questions,” Vanessa said.
“Ms. Lockwood,” Judge Wright said.
“Mr. Appleton, I noticed that Mrs. Cole did not ask you about your formal education. Do you have a college degree in biology or any other branch of science?”
“No.”
Robin knew Appleton would answer in the negative because she had done an in-depth internet search to determine his education, his personal life, and anything else that might help her client.
“Any graduate degrees in biology or any other branch of science?”
“No.”
“I see. Now fingerprint identification is not a science, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You get some basic training about what fingerprints look like, then you use a magnifying glass or a microscope and you look at the prints. Anyone on the jury could do it with a little training, right?”
“They would need a lot more than a little training.”
“But this isn’t an exact science. It’s not like math. It’s subjective, like the judging in Olympic figure skating or boxing, where different observers can see the same thing and reach different conclusions?”
“Well, no. I have to be certain about the similarities.”
“But you could be mistaken.”
“No, I never make a mistake.”
“That’s amazing. You’re saying that in fifteen years of analyzing prints, you have never been wrong?”
A Matter of Life and Death Page 14
