Naive

by Charles Royce

  “Well, since the victim was stabbed earlier in the evening yet remained alive, the blood found at the crime scene occurred in several stages. Based on the coagulation cascade, we determined initial blood splatter to be about three hours old by the time it was analyzed, placing the initial stabbing at around 7, 7:15pm. Since the victim was still alive and his heart was still pumping, several other blood samples show various times of coagulation throughout the evening, up until time of death, which is roughly 10:15pm.”

  “Is this coagulation cascade the same for the blood on both the victim and the defendant?”

  “No, coagulation is relevant mostly to the victim, as the blood on the defendant was mostly from around 10pm until the time of the victim’s death.”

  “I noticed you said ‘mostly.’”

  “Yes,” Dr. Lynna uses a laser pointer to call attention to the closeup of Micah’s face that Astrid has placed on the easel in front of the jury box. “We did find two spots of the victim’s blood on the defendant, one on the face right here, just below the mandible to the right, and one here in the middle of his neck above his larynx.”

  Micah scratches his neck.

  “I’m sorry, doctor. Are you saying that the victim’s blood found on the defendant’s neck was from earlier in the evening? How can you be sure?”

  “It’s two spots, which is not significant in comparison to how much blood there was on both the victim and the defendant, the whole living room really. But what is significant is the way it spattered. As you can tell from the photo of the defendant taken at the police station that night, attached here, the blood is a drop or a spatter. Had it been a smear or an irregular shape, one might argue that it was from the victim, or contact blood, due to the trauma of the defendant trying CPR on him and pounding his chest.”

  “Are you saying that based on your findings, you believe the defendant was spattered with the victim’s blood earlier that evening?”

  “That’s the only explanation we have, yes.”

  Shawn looks in the direction of the jury. They are all looking at his client. For the first time, he senses he is in trouble. He has prepared for his cross-examination but feels unprepared for the reactions he is experiencing.

  “And the DNA.” Astrid walks in front of the jury. “The DNA and fingerprint analysis of the crime scene. Results came back threefold, the victim, the defendant, and the housekeeper. Is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “And the housekeeper was ruled out as a suspect because she was out of the country at the time.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “But to your knowledge, doctor, there was no one else there who left their DNA behind.”

  “To my knowledge, the crime scene contained only the DNA of the victim and the defendant.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  “Your witness, Mr. Connelly,” the judge says. He looks at his watch. “This will be the final witness, the final redirect of the day.”

  “Thank you, your Honor. I’ll try to make this quick.” Shawn turns to the witness. “Regarding the two tiny blood spatters on the defendant’s neck, you claim that they were from earlier in the evening, and that there’s no other explanation. That’s quite a statement.” Shawn looks at him for longer than a moment.

  “Is that a question?” Dr. Lynna asks.

  “I was just thinking about all that blood, from several different parts of the night. Pools of it, both around the victim, on the victim. Now, I’m no expert, but if I’m desperately trying to save this person, with all that blood, some old and some new, I’m thinking during CPR, I’m gonna hit at least one of the pools from earlier in the evening, and it’s gonna spatter on me. Is that logical?”

  “You would think, but that’s not how spatter works. As I said earlier, the two spots on the defendant’s neck were clearly spatters, meaning circular splotches of liquid. If the blood came from an older pool that had already coagulated, it would have been more gel-like, and it probably would not have adhered to the skin at all, much less make a perfectly round spatter.”

  “Probably, hmm. Thank you, doctor. Are you familiar with visible wavelength hyperspectral imaging?”

  “Yes,” the doctor answers, his eyes moving back and forth like they’re watching shells at a carnival.

  “Can you tell me what that is?”

  “Sure. It’s a relatively new way to determine not only that a sample is in fact blood, but also how old that blood is.”

  Shawn pulls out a piece of paper from a folder. “So, this technology, which the crime scene analysts in this case did not use, takes photos at different wavelength bands using a liquid crystal tunable filter, and can pinpoint exactly what material is in fact blood, and how old that blood is based on its characteristics through these filters. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” he replies.

  “Now, allow me to read you the reason why this technology was created. This is from the Journal of Forensic Professionals for the Advancement of New Technology, of which you are a member. ‘Today’s standard practices for the determination of blood stain age is neither accurate or reliable, neither scientifically robust or ethically usable for crime scene analysis. Therefore, our highest recommendation is as follows: that standard practices of blood age determination be discarded immediately, and that visible wavelength hyperspectral imaging be the benchmark moving forward in any and all professional applications.’”

  Shawn looks up from the paper. “Dr. Lynna, did you use this new technology that your professional affiliation highly recommended to determine the age of the spatter, or did you ignore the recommendation and rely on your current methods?”

  “That technology is very expensive, so we relied on our current methods, which are actually tried and tr—”

  “Thank you. Doctor, you mentioned there was no other DNA at the crime scene?”

  “I’m sorry?” the doctor asks, reeling from another change in subject.

  “Did you mean low-level DNA? Touch DNA? You mean to tell me there was nothing else in that entire living room that contained fingerprints or touch DNA?”

  “No DNA or fingerprints other than the defendant’s, the victim’s, and the housekeeper’s,” Dr. Lynna says in a determined voice. He wants to redeem himself from the previous suggestion that he did not do all he could have or should have done. “No other fingerprints or DNA from the lamp, no other fingerprints or DNA from the coffee table, no other fingerprints or DNA from the camera, no other fingerprints or DNA from the television remote. Nothing.”

  Bingo, Shawn thinks.

  “Objection! Move to strike the answer.” Astrid yells.

  “Counselors, approach the bench,” the judge says, turning off his microphone. Shawn and Astrid approach the judge.

  “I’m assuming you’ll want the box with the camera in evidence now, counsel, is that correct?” the judge asks Shawn.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your Honor,” Astrid says, “there is absolutely no evidence it had anything to do with the murder, no fingerprints, no touch DNA, no hard drive with recorded videos. It has no bearing on this case, as you’ve already ruled.”

  “This will teach you to prepare your witnesses a little better, Ms. Lerner,” says the judge, then looks at Shawn. “Somehow it’s found its way into evidence.”

  “Thank you, your Honor,” Shawn says.

  “That wasn’t even a clever move, Mr. Connelly, you got lucky,” replies the judge, banging his gavel. “The jury is dismissed until tomorrow morning at 9:30am.”

  C h a p t e r 3 8

  “We’d like the court to know that my client has willfully and graciously allowed the prosecution access to these personal notes, as well as any and all testimony given by this witness,” Shawn announces to the courtroom. The defense has nothing to hide. And Shawn will do whatever it takes for the jury to see it.

  Micah’s therapist, Dr. Amy Eisen, is a renowned therapist in psychiatric circles in New York. Small in stature, with
dark brown hair and white-grey roots, Dr. Eisen has been Micah’s therapist for well over six years. She had not wanted to take the stand because of patient/client privilege. After Micah agreed to waive the privilege and give complete access to the prosecution, the doctor had no choice but to respond to the subpoena and cooperate.

  “Thank you for being with us today, Ms. Eisen,” Astrid begins.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Can you state your full name and describe the nature of your relationship to the defendant?”

  “Yes, my name is Dr. Amy Eisen. I am a psychotherapist here in New York City, and Micah has been my client since early 2012.”

  “Can you describe why the defendant initially came to see you?”

  “Yes, initially he came in because he’d been self-medicating. You see, Micah comes from an extremely religious household. His father was a pastor of a small church in Arkansas, and Micah, being gay, found the religion he grew up with was fundamentally flawed, as he could not connect the teachings of the Bible with what he experienced to be true and right in his soul. After he discarded the beliefs he was taught as a child, which many of us do along the path of spiritual evolution, Micah was ostracized by both parents. He was also denounced by his church. And having no foundation at home or within his spirit, he felt unsure of his footing in his own life. And thus, he began to self-medicate with drugs and alcohol.”

  “As a result of your counseling, he became sober, is that correct?”

  “The credit goes to him for that. Very proud of him for recognizing it and seeking more outside help,” Dr. Eisen says in a motherly tone, looking at Micah. He smiles back at her.

  “Now, doctor, it says in your notes back in 2015 that you were concerned for Micah’s well-being. Can you explain these notes right here, if you can read them out loud for us, please?” Astrid hands the doctor a bound set of pages.

  The doctor pulls out her reading glasses that rest on a chain around her neck. A photo of the notes appears on the monitor. She reads them aloud.

  “May 18, 2015

  Anniversary of mother’s death approaching

  Micah = incongruence

  ‘Good Micah, Bad Micah’

  Intimacy absent

  Integration needed”

  “Thank you, Dr. Eisen. Can you explain what you meant by these notes?”

  “Yes, I believe so. First of all, these are essentially notes I take when listening to a client, in this case Micah. He mentioned growing up hearing from his mother that he is either ‘Good Micah’ or ‘Bad Micah,’ depending on the actions he was taking or the emotions or reactions he was exhibiting. Throughout adolescence and adulthood, he had still been considering himself as two different entities, depending on what was happening in his life at the time.”

  “Could you please give us an example?”

  “I remember he talked about an old boyfriend of his cheating on him, or he suspected of cheating on him. He mentioned having thoughts of hurting this person in some way. I asked him to tell me a little more, and he said they were just thoughts. He had no definitive plan of hurting this man. Remember, this was years ago.”

  “And Dr. Eisen, can you explain what you mean by incongruence?”

  “Yes. It’s the whole ‘Good Micah, Bad Micah’ thing. My job is to help, sorry, was to help Micah understand that we all live with both the good sides of ourselves and the bad sides of ourselves. Congruence is the ultimate goal, to be okay with all aspects of ourselves and to understand that there is no good Micah or bad Micah. Just simply Micah.”

  “Thank you. And what about intimacy, this note right here?” Astrid approaches the doctor and points to the line in her notes.

  “Oh yes, I remember him saying something about not being able to feel true intimacy with someone like he used to when he was little. I think he was remembering his mother at the time.”

  “Why did you bother to write it down?”

  The doctor hesitates.

  “Well, my initial thinking, why I wrote that down, later proved to be—”

  “But why did you write it in the first place, doctor?” Astrid interrupts before Dr. Eisen can qualify her statement.

  “Because lack of intimacy is one of the clear signs of a sociopath. But as I was going to say, later—”

  “Thank you, doctor. We have nothing more for this witness.”

  “Later … you were saying, doctor,” Shawn says, picking up where Astrid had abruptly stopped.

  “Later, my initial thinking proved to be false.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Micah developed, I don’t know, a transformative relationship with Lennox, I guess you’d say? Throughout his courtship and marriage, I saw major progress in Micah’s capacity for intimacy.”

  “Such as?” Shawn asks.

  “Such as a decrease in jealousy, an assumption of positive intent when it came to what Lennox was doing, where he was, who he was with.”

  “Thank you. Doctor, out of the 212 times you saw our client, how many times do you mention ‘good Micah, bad Micah?’”

  “Oh, I don’t know the answer to that, sorry.”

  “Could it have been only twice? The second time was in December of 2016. Could you turn to that please and read it for us? Page 17, highlighted.”

  Dr. Eisen flips to page 17 and reads. Shawn grabs the remote and clicks to the photo of her notes for the jury to see.

  “Micah okay

  Refers to himself as Micah when talking about dark thoughts

  Asked about Good Micah Bad Micah

  Says no”

  “Thank you, can you explain what you meant by that?”

  “Yes, we had done a lot of work around being okay with his dark thoughts. We all have them. It was the first time I noticed that he was talking as if the two sides of him had been integrated. I asked him about it. He laughed and said he hadn’t thought that way in quite some time. It was a good day for me. I felt I’d helped in some small way.”

  “Small way, indeed.” Shawn looks at the jury, hoping to put a period on this Hail Mary from the prosecution. “Thank you. We have nothing further for this witness.”

  “Is there a redirect?” the judge asks.

  “No, your Honor.” Astrid shrugs.

  Dr. Eisen removes her glasses and gets up. She walks past Micah and places her hand on his hand. Micah puts his hand on hers and smiles. She nods and walks out of the courtroom.

  “The prosecution rests, your Honor,” says Astrid.

  “You’re up, Mr. Connelly,” says the judge.

  “Thank you, your Honor,” Shawn says. “We’d like to call our first witness, Ms. Jenna Ancelet, back to the stand.”

  Jenna enters the courtroom with little to no fanfare. She is dressed in a familiar black-slack-white-blouse combo, albeit different designers. But this time, there is no extravagant scarf, no swagger, no confidence.

  She is there for Micah. Shawn can go to hell.

  “Raise your right hand. Do you promise that the testimony you shall give in the case before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” asks the clerk.

  “I do.”

  “Thank you for being here, Ms. Ancelet,” Shawn says.

  Jenna does not look at him.

  “Ms. Ancelet, earlier you testified that you were friends with both the defendant and the victim. Could you elaborate on that friendship for the court?”

  Jenna does not address Shawn. Instead, she looks at the jury.

  “Lennox was my boss, also my good friend. Yes, I may have been fired, but we eventually came to an understanding that our business life and our professional life were not to be mixed ever again. Not on purpose, anyway. I loved that man.”

  “Lennox, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your relationship with Micah? Please describe it.”

  “Micah and I hit it off too. He reminded me a lot of Josh. Still does. They’re very similar. Both kind, tender-hearted,
great listeners, funny. Lennox was super smart. Very literal. Micah was a good offset to Lenny, they balanced each other out. Anyway, we live very close to each other, so we hang out all the time. Hung out, I guess you’d say.” She lets out a singular chuckle. “We’d laugh a lot, cook each other dinners, house-sit for each other, you name it. I like to think we were always there for each other.”

  “So, with both professional and personal affiliations with the deceased, Lennox Holcomb, you had access to a lot of information. There are areas that I’d like to discuss. One is the company you both worked for, and the second is his former drug dealer. Let’s start with the company and why you were fired.”

  Jenna moves in her chair and wipes her nose. She is uncomfortable. Her fidgety demeanor is subtle but noticeable. She knows she is violating her NDA, but Shawn has assured her if they come after her, which they won’t, he will make sure she is taken care of.

  “We both worked for Élan International. I was asked to send through paperwork all the time. Usually I knew what it was for. But there was a period, right before I was fired, when I questioned some of it. Purchase orders and the like. It didn’t have anything to do with anything else, but I was asked to keep my mouth shut.”

  “By whom?” Shawn asks.

  “Lennox. He told me to just take care of the purchases and send them through a separate chain of accounting. So I did.”

  “Yet, of all the documents recovered from Élan’s servers when they were seized by the police, none of those documents exist.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I just find it interesting. Is that ultimately the reason you were fired, because of these lost documents?”

  “Yes and no. Yes, I think that was the reason I was fired. But no, that’s not the reason they said. They said I was fired because they thought I was giving this information to Cooper Harlow.”

  “That’s the company you work for now, correct?”

  “Correct. Élan’s biggest competitor. Now, granted they had no proof because I hadn’t been selling company secrets, but nevertheless I was fired. My guess is that I knew too much, and that’s why they let me go, but not without signing an NDA.”