“And what did you do after you received the call?”
“Well, I told him I’d get out there as soon as I could. I live in Mount Collie, ’bout twenty-five minutes out of Magic Valley. Plus I had to get dressed, splash some water on my face. Then I had to find this crime scene out in the middle of the green leafy nowhere. I got lost about six times; had to get on my cell phone and have Sheriff Allen lead me in step by step.”
“When did you arrive?”
“I think I got there about four-thirty, which I thought was pretty damn good, given the circumstances.”
“And what did you do when you arrived?”
“I conferred with Sheriff Allen briefly, then took control of the crime scene.”
Granny nodded appreciatively. “Detective Cath, for the sake of the jury, would you please explain what you mean by taking control of the crime scene?”
“Sure.” He turned to face the jury box. “Everything I do can probably be boiled down into two categories: restricting access and preserving the evidence. Obviously, we don’t want the crime scene contaminated. Something like seven out of ten homicides are solved in the first six hours based upon evidence found at the crime scene. We don’t want to lose that window of opportunity. So I cordon off the area and post guards at the entrances, to make sure no one gets in unless they have my okay.”
“And after that?”
“Then I start preserving the evidence on the site so it will still be there when the forensic teams arrive. I lay butcher paper down on the walkways so we can get in and out without damaging any evidence. In this case, out in the forest, there really weren’t any walkways as such, so I just created some, around the perimeter of the area and through the middle, near the remains. That way our footprints wouldn’t obliterate any evidence.”
“And what else?”
“I make sure no one sheds on the crime scene or bleeds on it or moves things around. We want everything to be just as it was when the killer left. Once that’s done, I admit the forensic teams.”
“Such as?”
“The hair and fiber team. The photographers and videographers. Trace evidence teams. Fingerprint experts. And of course the coroner’s team.” He shuddered involuntarily. “Man, I wouldn’t have wanted their job for all the tea in China.”
“And did all these forensic teams you mentioned appear?”
“They certainly did. Took some of them a while to get out there, but they all made it.”
“And did they find anything?”
“Objection.” Ben had been taking it easy on the objections, trying not to alienate the jury. But this one he couldn’t let go. “Hearsay. Detective Cath shouldn’t be testifying about what someone else did.”
Judge Pickens shrugged. “Well, I’ll allow it.”
“Your honor,” Ben insisted, “it hasn’t been established that the witness has any expertise in these various forensic fields.”
“The prosecutor just asked if they found anything. He can answer that, if he knows, without going into any great detail about what was found. Will that make you happy, counselor?”
“Ecstatic,” Ben murmured under his breath. Christina suppressed a giggle.
“So I’ll ask you again,” Granny said. “Did the forensic teams find anything? If you know.”
“They did. They found footprints. And they also recovered a few fingerprints from a piece of the tree cutter that was thrown clear of the explosion.”
“And were they able to identify the fingerprints?”
“Objection,” Ben said. “Now the prosecutor is asking for analysis. Analysis that was not conducted by this witness and is not within his field of expertise.”
“Very well,” Judge Pickens said wearily, as if Ben were an annoying insect that he couldn’t quite swat. “We’ll save that for the fingerprint expert.”
Granny didn’t seem particularly annoyed. And why should she be? They both knew she had the proper expert waiting in the wings. “Thank you very much. No more questions.”
After the judge gave him the nod, Ben took his place behind the podium and launched into his cross-examination. He tried to adopt a tone somewhere in the middle ground—insistent, but not overbearing. He knew it was critical that he remain in control during cross or he wouldn’t get anything. On the other hand, if he came on too strong with Mr. Friendly, the jury would resent it.
“Detective Cath, how reliable is the evidence found at the crime scene?”
Cath seemed a bit taken aback, but it didn’t last long. His placid smile soon reasserted itself. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, the jury has to know what they can believe, what they can trust. Can they trust the crime-scene evidence?”
“Of course they can.”
“Isn’t it true that evidence is only reliable if it hasn’t been contaminated?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“And if it has been contaminated, then all that evidence you mentioned is unreliable.”
“Right. Garbage in, garbage out. That’s why they have me on the scene.”
Ben raised a finger. “Ah, but you didn’t arrive at the crime scene till four-thirty, right?”
Cath chuckled. “Well, I can’t deny it, since I just said so myself a few minutes ago.”
Ben did not chuckle back. “No, you can’t. Who was at the crime scene when you arrived?”
“No one, really.”
“No one? Are you sure?”
“Well … except the obvious.”
“And that would be?”
“The deputy who found the body.”
“Deputy Wagner.”
“Right, that’s the one. And Sheriff Allen, of course.”
“And who else?”
“I guess some of his deputies were there.”
“Any of the forensic teams?”
“No. Well, the coroner’s squad was there. They hadn’t done anything yet.
“So, we’ve gone from ‘no one, really’ to—what? Eight or ten people?”
“But they were all members of the law enforcement team. It’s not like they were tourists or anything.”
“I understand that. But there were eight or ten people present.”
“I suppose so.”
“How many footprints did all those people leave?”
Cath paused. This was the question that tipped Ben’s hand, that told one and all where he was going. Of course it was necessary to bring the jury on board sometime. But Ben knew that from here on out, the questioning would get a lot tougher.
Cath coughed into his hand. “I’m sure I don’t know how many footprints they all left.”
“But we can surmise it was quite a few, right?”
“Well …”
“They didn’t all stand still like statues, did they?”
Cath made a sardonic smile. “No. They didn’t all stand still. But they didn’t walk around the corpse, either. They kept their distance.”
“How do you know? You didn’t get there until four-thirty.”
“Because I asked them.”
Ben gave the jury his best aha! expression. “Then you were worried about crime-scene contamination.”
“I was not. It’s standard procedure.”
Ben looked at him incredulously. “It’s standard procedure to ask the sheriff if he’s mucked up the crime scene?”
“Just a matter of protocol. Nothing to be taken personally.”
“But we know that Deputy Wagner walked near the body.”
“Well—”
“He told us so himself. He examined the body when he arrived. In fact, he approached the body not once but twice.”
Cath frowned. “I’m sure he was very careful.”
“Me too, but nonetheless, that’s a lot of footprints.”
“Then he would be the only one. And one additional set of prints could be easily distinguished.”
“What about Sheriff Allen?”
Cath looked dumbstruck. “Sheriff Allen is a trai
ned professional. There’s no way he’d stomp around a crime scene. He kept his distance.”
Ben looked at him sternly. “Are you telling this jury that when Sheriff Allen arrived at the scene, having heard what happened, he didn’t even go over to the corpse and take a look?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“What if the man was still alive? Wouldn’t Sheriff Allen at least go over and see if he needed to call an ambulance?”
“Your honor, I must object.” Granny was on her feet again. “Mr. Kincaid is asking the witness to speculate.”
“No,” Ben replied, “I’m examining the credibility of this witness’s statement that no one walked on the crime scene before he arrived. That’s the purpose of cross-examination.”
Judge Pickens frowned. He glanced out at the many faces in the gallery, then looked back to Granny. “I’m afraid I’ll have to overrule that objection.”
Granny retook her seat, a sour expression on her face.
“So what about it, Detective Cath?” Ben reasked. “Don’t you think Sheriff Allen at least checked to see if the victim was still alive? He’d be pretty incompetent if he didn’t.”
“I think it was obvious from the condition of the remains—”
“So he didn’t even check?”
Cath pursed his lips. “I suppose he must’ve.”
“Well, what do you know?” Ben said. “There’s yet another set of footprints.”
“Maybe. But that’s all.”
“What about the deputies? The coroner’s team?”
“They had no reason to invade the crime scene.”
“Are you telling me they weren’t just the tiniest bit curious to see what had happened?”
“Perhaps they were. But they still wouldn’t walk on the crime scene.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because they told me so!” Cath’s amiability was slowly eroding away to nothingness.
“According to you, Sheriff Allen said he hadn’t violated the scene, either. But you just admitted he probably did.”
Cath’s face was beet red. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do—”
“Oh, I think you do. I’m trying to establish that there were numerous footprints left at the crime scene before you arrived. The prints your forensic team lifted could’ve belonged to anyone.”
“They have ways of screening footprints—”
“We’ll see. For that matter, I wonder if all those men at the crime scene might not have left a few fingerprints behind. It would be hard to be there an hour and a half and not touch anything.”
“Your honor, I object to this speechifying!” Granny said angrily. “Mr. Kincaid is not even asking the witness questions any more.”
“That one I’ll sustain,” Pickens said. “You have any more questions, counselor?”
“Not at this time, your honor.” If Ben had learned nothing else during the past few years, he had learned to sit down when it was time to sit down. He’d created a wisp of reasonable doubt. If he let Cath talk any more, the witness would only try to undo the damage.
“Very well,” Pickens said. He had a frown on his face, and his gaze was going straight out to Granny. Perhaps this case wasn’t going quite as well as they’d expected? Ben could only hope. “We’ll resume after a short break.” He dismissed the jury, who filed out of the courtroom in a long line.
When Ben returned to counsel table, Zak gave him a swat on the arm. “Nice job, Ben. I knew I could count on you. You did it before and you’ll do it again.” He grinned. “You took that chump apart like a Tinkertoy.”
“Don’t get overconfident,” Ben warned. “Cath was testifying out of his depth; that’s how I was able to nail him. When Granny puts on her experts in each of those forensic fields, they will go to extreme lengths to prove to the jury that there was no contamination of the evidence.”
“Just the same, you’re doing a hell of a job.” Zak leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I knew you were the right man for this job. I feel better already.”
There was something disconcerting about his reaction, but Ben supposed that if the man wanted to see this as a good omen, that was his business. Given the stress he must be under, with a death sentence hanging over his head, he was probably entitled to any relief he could find.
Ben turned and was surprised to find Granny standing behind him.
“So, Kincaid, it seems you’re not quite the sap you appear to be.”
Ben arched an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“But of course.”
“Then thanks. But I’m just doing my job.”
Ben would’ve given a great deal to know what thoughts were running through Granny’s brain. Whatever they were, he suspected he wouldn’t like them. “I will, too,” she said softly. “Now more than ever.”
Chapter 43
WHEN THE JURY RETURNED from their mid-afternoon break, Granny called Dr. Lawrence Tobias, the county coroner, to the stand.
Probably a decision made based more on time and strategy than anything else, Ben reasoned. There was only about an hour and a half of court time left before Pickens would likely recess for the day. If Granny called a more important witness, one who would take longer, the testimony would be split over two days—which would give Ben all night to prepare for cross after having heard at least part of the testimony. Granny preferred to call a witness she could get on and off before closing time, so Ben wouldn’t be able to think about what he’d heard at great length before crossing.
Dr. Tobias, Ben recalled, was almost the complete opposite of Dr. Koregai, the Tulsa County medical examiner to whom Ben was accustomed. Tobias lacked Koregai’s implacable ease, his bearing. The sense that everything he said was unquestionably, inarguably true. At the same time, he had a common touch that Koregai never even approached. He seemed like one of the gang, not a demigod towering over their heads. And he knew how to talk to people, to communicate. Koregai might be a medical genius, but Ben wondered if Tobias might not be the better witness.
After about twenty minutes, Granny brought the witness to the case in question. “Did you perform an autopsy on Dwayne Gardiner?”
“Oh yes, yes,” he said. He had a nervous twitch involving his upper lip somewhat reminiscent of a bunny rabbit.
“And when would that have taken place?”
“On the morning of July thirteenth. I wasn’t present when the body was first brought to the morgue, earlier that morning. I came in about seven-thirty and started work.”
A lovely way to start the day, Ben thought. Hope he hadn’t had a big breakfast.
“Did you perform a standard autopsy?”
“Well …” Tobias appeared to be struggling for words, which struck Ben as unusual, since Granny had probably rehearsed this testimony a dozen times. “… standard would probably not be the correct word.”
“And why is that?”
“That is because of the … uh”—he glanced at the jury, then looked away—”the condition of the remains.”
“What was the condition of the remains, Dr. Tobias?”
“Severely burned. Third degree and then some, covering almost his entire body. There was little skin remaining, and what there was had hardened into eschar. Bones and skull were exposed, all blackened by fire. I don’t think his best friends could have recognized him.” Tobias paused, his expression serious but sad. “Using the Rule of Nines, which assigns a numerical value to each part of the body and rates the severity of body burns on a scale from one to one hundred—one hundred being the worst—I’d say Gardiner was a ninety-seven. At least.”
“Did this create any complications for your autopsy?”
“Oh, yes. Yes indeed.” He looked earnestly at the jury. “Everything becomes more complicated when a body has been burned that severely. You can throw the manual out the window. Most of the standard techniques don’t work anymore. Most of the tests are invalid.”
“Nonetheless, were you able to perf
orm the autopsy?”
“Oh yes. Took me almost seven hours. But I did it.”
“Dr. Tobias, we’ve heard testimony regarding a gunshot wound. Did you see any evidence of a gunshot wound?”
“I extracted a bullet from the upper right torso. Just below the clavicle.”
“What did you do with the bullet?”
“I sent it to the ballistics office for testing.”
Now why had Granny established that? Ben wondered. There was no ballistics expert on the prosecution witness list. Did she have an ace tucked up her sneaky little sleeve? Or was she laying a foundation, just in case the gun turned up?
“Did you notice anything else out of the ordinary, Dr. Tobias?”
“Well, as I said, the burns were extensive.”
“Other than that.”
“On the whole, there was very little to examine. As I said, most of the skin was gone, either as a result of fire, or the forest creatures that found the body before the sheriff did. Even his internal organs were burned, in whole or part.” He paused. “I did manage to find faint traces of a bite mark on his left arm, however.”
“A bite mark?” Granny’s eyes widened, giving the jury a dramatic reaction Ben knew was more stagecraft than surprise.
“Yes. Indentations left by teeth were clearly visible.”
“Do you know when this bite occurred?”
“In terms of what time of day, it’s impossible for me to say with much accuracy. But I do know that the bite occurred before the burning.”
Granny straightened. “Dr. Tobias, are there tests that can be run on bite marks? Say, to determine their origin?”
“That’s outside my realm of expertise, but yes, there are such tests. And I understand they can be quite accurate.”
Ben frowned. Granny was using one witness to prop up another—establishing an expert’s credentials before he even took the stand. It was objectionable, but not worth annoying the jury.
“I must be losing my grip,” Granny said abruptly. “Dr. Tobias, I haven’t even asked you what the cause of death was. Were you able to make that determination?”
“I was,” Tobias said. He turned somberly toward the jury. “The first instant I saw him. Mr. Gardiner burned to death.”
Dark Justice Page 28
