“We got dumped on in there,” Jamison exploded with frustration. “I thought about asking her more questions, but I didn’t know the answers. She was unraveling up there.”
He turned his chair to face the window, his back to O’Hara as he considered the situation. “Right now there are three possibilities. Either Elizabeth is telling the truth and the defense is throwing up as much smoke and innuendo as possible or she’s not telling the truth and St. Claire didn’t do what she says he did . . . or . . .”
“Or what, Matt?”
“Or the truth is somewhere in between.”
“So what’re you going to do?” O’Hara was suddenly deeply concerned that both the case and Jamison were coming apart.
“The only thing I can. I’m going to assume she’s telling the truth and that’s how I’m going to cross-examine St. Claire when he gets on the stand. He has to take the stand.”
“You think you can break him on the stand?”
“I never count on cracking a guy on the stand,” Jamison admitted. “That only happens on television. No way is that going to happen with St. Claire. What we have to do is take every piece of evidence he brings in and prove it’s a lie. If we can’t do that, then we’re going down. I’m going to rest our case and see what they have. Then McGuiness will have to make a decision whether to put on a defense or not. But I’ll bet he won’t risk not putting on a defense. He can throw all kinds of dust in the air but if his client doesn’t testify that jury isn’t going to give him a pass. They are going to wonder what he has to hide. We see what McGuiness has got, and then we’ll react to it. I’m not putting her back on the stand until we see what we have to deal with. It’s the only way I’ll know what to ask.”
“Matt, people are going to have questions about why she didn’t jump out of St. Claire’s car when he took her to LA, why she didn’t scream. Right now, my bet is that the jury thinks she’s lying.” It wasn’t a question, and O’Hara didn’t say whether he himself thought she was lying.
“Maybe she is, Bill, maybe she isn’t. It’s pretty obvious she didn’t tell us everything. But people behave in different ways. She was seventeen. She should have done a lot of things, showed better judgment. The jury doesn’t know that we think he murdered three women and was about to murder one more.” Jamison stared out the window into the diminishing light of dusk. “It isn’t over, yet.”
When Ernie entered Jamison’s office the first thing that was obvious to him was the silence. Clearly the day hadn’t gone well. O’Hara had given him a blow-by-blow of what had transpired while he was out talking to Gupta. He and Gupta had been tearing through files all day, he explained, but they managed to find all the autopsies that Gupta had conducted on people who had died from drug overdoses in the past year. It didn’t take long to check the blood types and to match them to the blood types of the victims.
There were seven possible matches of consistent blood types. Gupta had gone back into his lab storage to retrieve the blood samples that he maintained for at least a year. He routinely maintained three vials of blood from each autopsy. None were missing.
Sliding into the chair next to O’Hara, Ernie said, “Gupta and I have been going through the autopsy files. Guess what?” Jamison waved his hand with an impatient motion, obviously not wanting to play the game. Ernie’s lips parted, showing his teeth. “Three of the blood vials for junkies that Gupta did the posts on didn’t show any heroin or barbiturate levels, although they should have according to the records. At first Gupta couldn’t tell who it came from. But then Gupta did enzyme matches. The blood that was supposed to be from the junkies came from our three victims and the blood in the file that was supposed to be from our victims came from three addicts who OD’d. None of our victims ingested any narcotics. Matt, this is huge. Somebody switched the blood samples.”
O’Hara slammed his hand on Jamison’s desk. “I knew that son of a bitch would screw up. They all do, no matter how smart they think they are.”
Ernie shared O’Hara’s exuberance. “Gupta is furious. He wants to go to the medical board, the hospital, and God only knows who else. I told him to sit tight. We’d get back to him.” Ernie tilted his chair back. “We got St. Claire’s cojones in a vise, Matt. Now we get to squeeze.”
“Can we show that St. Claire had access to Gupta’s tissue storage?” Jamison felt a weight come off his shoulders.
“I asked that. Gupta said that the key is in his desk. Some of his technicians have access because they remove samples for testing. He never worried about leaving the key there because he trusts his people. St. Claire could have walked in anytime and opened up the tissue cold storage. It would have been simple. All he had to do was switch the blood samples from the victims with the blood samples from junkies whose blood type matched theirs. Nobody would have known the difference and nobody would have reason to check. Gupta said you just remove the stopper, flush the vial out with saline, and then pour the blood in from the other vial. So the blood vial has Gupta’s signature on it and the victim’s name on it. We did exactly what St. Claire would have expected, took the test results and assumed that the blood sample was accurate.”
Drawing circles on his legal pad before speaking and trying to keep his excitement in perspective, Jamison sat silently for a moment. The news wasn’t going to do them any good in the Garrett trial unless they could get it into evidence. But it would help close the door on the murder cases. “So we know somebody switched the blood and that St. Claire had the opportunity to do that. We know he had access to the records and we have the hair and fiber matches. Now we squeeze.”
“Ernie, talk to Bill and he’ll fill you in on the testimony about the hospital call logs. I need you to get me copies.”
He lifted the receiver to call the district attorney and then hesitated before putting it back down as a realization struck him. “Without the heroin and barbiturate levels we don’t know what killed these women. Does Gupta have any ideas? I’m going to have to come up with something.”
Ernie was smiling. “Well, Matt, I think you need to talk to Gupta. He has an idea, but what he thinks is going to make the shit hit the fan when the press finds out.”
Chapter 26
When Jamison and O’Hara entered Gupta’s office the diminutive pathologist’s head barely showed above the mound of paper and books stacked on his desk. He looked disheveled and disturbed. His normally rosy complexion was a slightly gray color and his sparse strands of hair stuck out at odd angles. Gupta picked up a piece of paper and wordlessly handed it to Jamison, who quickly scanned the document, stumbling over the strange word.
“Succinylcholine? What the hell is that?”
Gupta took the paper back and put it on his desk. “Succinylcholine, Mr. Jamison, is the perfect murder weapon in the hands of the right person. Especially if no one knows what to look for. Let me tell you a little story. In the 1960s a physician, Dr. Carl Coppolino, was charged with two murders. His attorney, Mr. F. Lee Bailey, was the most famous lawyer of his day. Doctors in my specialty are familiar with this case because it is a curiosity and because it involves a physician. Dr. Coppolino, it seems, claimed that his wife had died of a heart attack and at first that was the way it appeared.
“But after questions were asked about his relationship with a woman whose husband had also died suddenly, she admitted that she had an affair with Dr. Coppolino, and that he had helped her kill her husband. And, this is the crucial part for you, Mr. Jamison. He did this with an injection of succinylcholine. For months nobody could find the cause of death until the New York City Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Milton Halpern figured it out.
“You see, Mr. Jamison, Dr. Coppolino was an anesthesiologist and it was not uncommon for such specialists to use succinylcholine to relax the muscles in the throat so that an endotracheal tube could be inserted more easily through the nose or mouth. Because the drug metabolizes quickly in the body it was impossible to detect using standard methods. However, Dr. Halpern devised a test that
found a metabolite of succinylcholine in the brain tissue of Dr. Coppolino’s wife.
“Given in sufficient quantities, succinylcholine will paralyze all the muscles in the body. What makes it a perfect murder weapon is the fact that in sufficient quantities it mimics the appearance of a heart attack. It would also look exactly the same as the effect of a massive drug overdose stopping the heart. In simple terms, I concluded the cause of death was consistent with drug overdose because of the blood results and the physical manifestations. Why would I have suspected that the blood vials had been switched? Who could even imagine such a thing? We don’t routinely test for things like that.
“So I had no reason to look for something else because the drug levels would have produced death and were consistent with my examination. If succinylcholine was used by the killer of these women then I would expect it was injected where I found the puncture wounds, where I assumed the heroin-and-barbiturate cocktails were injected.”
Jamison digested the startling information. A rush of new questions raced through his mind. “I would think this succinylcholine is not something that is readily available?”
Gupta agreed. “It would be something that only a physician or a veterinarian would have access to normally. Veterinarians use it for the same reason as physicians.”
“And I take it this succinylcholine would be here at the hospital?”
“Yes, it is something that is accessible.”
“Including to Dr. St. Claire?”
“It is something anesthesiologists use under certain circumstances.”
“So when can you do this test?” Jamison suspected that if Gupta could have done it he already would have, but hoped his assumption was wrong.
“Sadly, Mr. Jamison, I cannot. You see it requires brain tissue of some quantity. I do not normally maintain large tissue samples of the brain . . .” Gupta’s voice was apologetic. “It is a space problem and it simply did not seem to be an issue in the case of these deaths given the appearance and blood tests. However, I do have a small specimen of brain matter from the Symes girl. As you know she was cremated, as was the Ventana girl. Johnson was buried according to my records.”
“If we can get the body exhumed, you can remove the brain. Can we test it, then?”
“There is no brain,” Gupta answered. “I removed it and did a gross examination as well as made some tissue slides, but the slides are not enough to do that kind of test.” His voice trailed off into a mumble. “I did not return it before the body was released.”
O’Hara’s face darkened. “What does that mean, ‘did not return it?’”
Holding up his hands in a gesture seeking understanding, Gupta said, “I’m saying that I disconnected the brain tissue and removed it from the body. I examined it later. I cannot do everything immediately. Let us simply say that after I obtained my tissue samples, I disposed of it.” O’Hara’s expression caused Gupta to shrink even more into his chair. “Respectfully, please understand this is our normal procedure, but not everything is returned to the body except to the extent it affects appearance.”
Recoiling at the implication of Gupta’s statement, O’Hara exclaimed, “You disposed of her brain?” The revulsion on his face didn’t require further questions.
Gupta’s voice became defensive. “I kept one piece from Ms. Symes’s brain tissue because of the pattern of activity of multiple murders but it is not substantial. That must be sent to the FBI. They have more sophisticated testing methods. If succinic acid is present, hopefully they will find it. As for the other victims, all I have are slides. There are no gross tissue samples.”
“So you can’t be sure that this succinol . . .” Jamison stumbled over the word.
Gupta pronounced it for him. “Succinylcholine.”
“Right. That this stuff is what killed these women?”
“Looking at everything I would say it is a very likely cause. It would be consistent with what we found and the injection site would be where I thought the drugs were administered. None of these women died of a drug overdose. It is clear to me that they were dead at the time of the infliction of the wound. There are very few drugs that would have the paralytic effect I believe occurred here and not be readily detectable. There are some extremely rare paralytic agents that are neurotoxins but obtaining them is very difficult. Succinylcholine is easily obtained by the right person, virtually undetectable, and fits all of the physical manifestations of the bodies.”
Jamison asked, “So this succinylcholine was injected and you assumed it was the injection site for the drugs because the blood tests showed a drug overdose. Is that it?”
“Yes, my conclusion is that the victims had some kind of anesthetic that they inhaled rendering them unconscious before the injection of the paralytic. I will keep running tests, but at this moment I am offering the opinion of succinylcholine as likely cause of death.” Gupta hesitated. “Particularly if Dr. St. Claire is the suspect, which is most disappointing to me.”
Jamison asked Gupta, “When you send the tissue to the FBI lab, how long is it going to take to confirm?”
Gupta was constrained. “I believe it should be done within two weeks, maybe less, but this is not something easily tested for.”
“I don’t have two weeks, Dr. Gupta.”
“I am not a magician, Mr. Jamison.” Gupta shrugged. “Even the FBI cannot do this test in less than maybe a week.”
O’Hara’s face showed disappointment and apprehension matching Jamison’s. Each of them knew Jamison didn’t have a week and he definitely didn’t have two weeks. He didn’t have twenty-four hours. He had to be in court, and when he cross-examined St. Claire he would be flying blind.
The next morning Jamison sat alone in his office with the door closed. He needed quiet to think. Ernie had obtained copies of the hospital call logs and they showed exactly what St. Claire testified to. Elizabeth had called St. Claire, and the time was right there in black and white.
He would have to explain it somehow, but he would be on the defensive because Beth hadn’t told him about it in advance and now it sounded like she was lying. At the very least, she hadn’t been completely truthful and her explanation would sound weak. If the cross-examination was any indication, McGuiness was still holding cards he hadn’t played.
Jamison had some serious choices to make and he would have to make a very aggressive move. There was a reason he hadn’t been willing to charge St. Claire yet with the three murders and it centered on lack of evidence. But now with the new evidence and a little luck, maybe, just maybe, if he handled it right he could make the murder charges stick and use them in the Garrett case. Second, the Garrett case was key to making them stick because the Garrett case was the only one where they had a living witness.
If he could get evidence of the murders introduced in the Garrett case, he knew that a jury would find St. Claire guilty because the evidence would shatter St. Claire’s credibility. Without that murder evidence in the Garrett case he realized his chances of convicting St. Claire were rapidly slipping away.
While he had a lot of faith in his ability to cross-examine St. Claire, he also knew he wasn’t a magician. Getting evidence of the murders admitted in the Garrett case was going to be difficult at best. There was only one way to make that happen.
It was becoming increasingly clear that McGuiness was arguing that everything that happened between Garrett and St. Claire was consensual. Jamison could argue the evidence of the murders helped prove that St. Claire had the same intent with Garrett because the pattern of the crimes was the same. He would argue that the only difference was that they had rescued Elizabeth Garrett before St. Claire could do to her what he had done to the other victims.
But getting Wallace to allow that uncharged murder evidence into the trial was a very big if. He was going to have to be very patient and wait until McGuiness had finished his case. He needed to let St. Claire testify first and see where that went and what he could get out of him.
The al
legation of murder was explosive and would force Judge Wallace to make a very difficult decision. This was the kind of evidence that got cases reversed if the trial judge made a mistake. And trial judges didn’t like getting reversed. The easy call for Judge Wallace would be to keep out any evidence of the murders.
His cross-examination of St. Claire would weigh heavily with Wallace and it was also Jamison’s opportunity to ask St. Claire questions that he wouldn’t be permitted to ask outside of the courtroom. If he handled the cross-examination carefully, he might get answers that he could use later to prove the murders in a future trial. It was a high-stakes lawyer game and he knew it.
There was also one other possibility that could influence the outcome. If Wallace said he was going to let the evidence of the murders into this trial, most lawyers would ask for a mistrial and take the continuance to prepare for the murder charges. But McGuiness wasn’t most lawyers and St. Claire wasn’t most clients. Neither of them suffered a lack of confidence, and Jamison was counting on St. Claire’s arrogance. He had a strong feeling that St. Claire’s inflated sense of self would make him go all-in, demanding that the trial go forward despite the murder evidence. And McGuiness was a risk-taker who believed his skill and his instincts would carry him over any hurdle. Jamison had been humbled enough times in court to know that overconfidence was the worst enemy of a trial lawyer.
Jamison sighed, picked up his briefcase, and walked downstairs to the courtroom. First he had one more decision to make. McGuiness expected Garrett to retake the stand. What would he do if she didn’t?
Chapter 27
McGuiness and St. Claire were already seated at the counsel table when Jamison walked into the courtroom. He took his seat, carefully laying out his legal tablet and file. Jamison acknowledged McGuiness and ignored St. Claire when he said, “Good morning.” The twelve jurors and two alternates filed in and took their seats.
Fractured Justice Page 22
