Keeping his voice at a whisper, Jamison explained, “Your Honor, succinylcholine is an anesthetic. We believe that an anesthetic was used to subdue Ms. Garrett. This is an anesthetic that is available to physicians.”
Wallace wasn’t as inclined to accept Jamison’s explanation as he hoped. “Mr. Jamison, this drug, you have some basis for believing it was used to induce unconsciousness in Ms. Garrett?”
“Your Honor, Ms. Garrett’s testimony supports that a drug was used. I have looked into the types of anesthetics that Dr. St. Claire has access to and this is one of them.”
“Do you mean to say there are other possibilities too?”
“Well, Your Honor, it could have been one of a number—” Wallace held up his hand to stop Jamison’s dissembling.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“No, Your Honor, all we know at this point is that we have reason to believe this might have been the drug.”
“And what is that reason?”
“Your Honor, it is a very long explanation and if the court would give me a little latitude to ask this question, I will explain at the first opportunity.”
Wallace turned to McGuiness. “Mr. McGuiness, anything further?”
“No, Your Honor, I object. Mr. Jamison has as much as admitted he’s on a fishing expedition and this is just a waste of time.”
Wallace’s normally impassive face gave way to a smile. “Well, Mr. Jamison, I’ll give you a little latitude, but I won’t forget that you say you have an explanation. I’ll want to hear it. Go ahead.”
Perspiration running down his back. Jamison sensed that Wallace realized that he needed this and decided to give him a break. He nodded his appreciation. “I won’t take long, Your Honor.”
“Dr. St. Claire, I will repeat my question. Are you familiar with the drug succinylcholine?”
“Yes.”
“And what is that drug?”
“It is a paralytic. It is used to relax the muscles of the throat so that a tube can be placed in the throat for purposes of breathing during surgical procedures.”
“And is it something you utilize as an anesthesiologist or in your experiments with anesthetics?”
“It is something I have used, yes.”
St. Claire was no longer relaxed. His posture had perceptibly stiffened and his eyes were fixed on Jamison. Jamison waited, hoping that St. Claire would do what he needed. It only took a few seconds of silence. “I’m not sure I understand your point, Mr. Jamison?”
“My point, Dr. St. Claire, is that Elizabeth Garrett testified that something was done to her causing her to have no memory of how she came to be tied to your bed. Some type of anesthetic or other drug was used to subdue her.”
“Mr. Jamison, if you believe her that she was not conscious from the time that she left her car until the time she was in my bed, then that is untrue.”
Deciding to skirt the edge of his own rules when he didn’t know the answer, Jamison asked, “Yes, but if you believe her, and that is her testimony, then that would mean a drug had to have been used. You have access to succinylcholine and that is a paralytic drug, correct?”
“Yes, but it does not induce unconsciousness, at least not initially. Other drugs are used for that.”
“But it could induce unconsciousness?”
“Mr. Jamison, succinylcholine must be administered very carefully because it can induce paralysis and even death if not given correctly.”
“Yes, that is correct, Dr. St. Claire, if not given correctly it will cause the patient to essentially asphyxiate, but more importantly, if that happens it looks no different than a heart attack from, let’s say, a massive drug overdose. Isn’t that correct.”
St. Claire leaned forward. “Yes, that is correct. Did you find any trace of succinylcholine in Elizabeth’s drug screens?”
“No, but then you wouldn’t expect there would be those traces, would you?”
“I did not do anything like that to Elizabeth.”
“But you did have a vial of that drug in your refrigerator in your garage where you kept an examination table, isn’t that true?” Jamison was guessing.
St. Claire lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Yes, that is possible. I do not recall; it wouldn’t be unusual. But that is not a drug I would ever give in anything but controlled circumstances.”
“Because?”
For just a brief moment, St. Claire’s eyes glinted like ice crystals. “Because it might kill her, Mr. Jamison.” He allowed his answer to fill the silent courtroom before adding with a smile, “Or do you think I am a murderer also?” No one in the room except Jamison could see the taunting flicker in St. Claire’s eyes.
“Your Honor, I have no further questions at this time.” McGuiness’s head jerked back just enough to reflect surprise. Jamison sat down. He had nothing else. He had planted the seed. Now he would have to wait.
Despite his many years of experience, Wallace seemed to be taken off-guard by the abrupt termination of the prosecutor’s cross-examination. For a few seconds he said nothing, then coughed and announced they would adjourn.
McGuiness stood again. “Your Honor, before the court adjourns for the evening, I would like to ask Dr. St. Claire a few additional questions.” Wallace nodded.
From his seat at the counsel table, McGuiness asked, “Dr. St. Claire, perhaps you could answer a question that Mr. Jamison did not ask. When you accidentally cut Ms. Garrett while she was on the bed at your home, was there blood on the pillow?”
“Yes, a small amount.”
“Was that blood still there when Investigator Garcia came crashing through the window?”
“Yes.”
“I’m showing you now photographs of the pillow on that bed. Is there more than one spot of what looks like blood on it as well as spots on the sheet?”
“Yes.”
“You are aware that Ms. Garrett was surrounded by flying glass when Investigator Garcia broke through the window and pulled her off the bed?”
“Yes.”
“And other than the spot of blood left when you accidentally cut Ms. Garrett, were these other spots of blood on the pillow or the sheets before Investigator Garcia broke the window?”
“No.”
“So, would it be correct to state that had Investigator Garcia regrettably not crashed through the window, causing flying glass to cut Elizabeth, the only blood on the pillow would have been from that scratch. But with all of the blood spots caused by the flying glass, it is now impossible to show that there was blood on the pillow from the scratch.”
“Yes, I would have to agree.”
“Now, Doctor, I am showing you now the photograph of the smear of blood on the driver’s seat of Elizabeth Garrett’s car. Would you examine it, please?” St. Claire took the photograph and carefully examined it before handing it back. “Dr. St. Claire, I realize you are not an expert in knives but please take the knife removed from your home and place the tip over the outline of the smear. Would you tell us please, does the knife fit perfectly within the outline?”
“No.” St. Claire’s voice seemed at first hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure what he was being asked. Jamison didn’t know either but he was certain that St. Claire had been prepped for this and what he was watching was a carefully crafted show.
McGuiness laid the knife and the photograph on the flat rail in front of the jury box, allowing enough time so that all twelve jurors were fixated on it. “You have also had surgical training, have you not?”
“Yes, I spent considerable time both in my medical training in Europe and here in the United States doing general surgery as part of my residency. I also do a form of surgery in my examinations of animals in my studies of the effects of various anesthetics.”
“So would it be fair to say you are familiar with surgical instruments, including extremely sharp knives?”
“Yes.”
“Do you wipe these knives off?”
“Of course, depending on the cir
cumstances.”
“And when you wipe the knife off, do you move it at all?”
“You mean do I move it across whatever I am using to wipe it with? Yes, if I don’t have both hands free, of course I have to slide the knife against the cloth.”
“Please put the knife over the photograph again.” McGuiness handed the exhibits back to St. Claire. “Now do you see anything unusual?”
“At the top of the outline there is a flat spot instead of a sharp tip.”
“And what does that suggest to you?”
Jamison was on his feet. “Your Honor, I object. Dr. St. Claire is not a forensic expert and he certainly is no expert in blood smears.”
Before Wallace had the opportunity to rule, McGuiness turned toward Wallace. “No, Your Honor, Dr. St. Claire is not an expert in blood smears, but if Mr. Jamison wants to look carefully at this photograph, what he will see is exactly what our expert in blood smears saw. If a knife made this impression, it was moved slightly and it is impossible to say that this knife left that impression simply because the outline of this knife generally fits the outline in the photograph. But I’m perfectly happy to leave further testimony on this until our expert testifies. Thank you, I have nothing further.”
Despite the tangle of questions twisting through his mind, Jamison’s face showed no reaction. “Nothing further, Your Honor.
Chapter 28
O’Hara and Jamison weaved their way through the crowded halls in silence. Too many people were around for either of them to express what they were thinking. Bad news traveled fast in a courthouse. The first reports were that Jamison was getting his ass kicked by McGuiness. Rather than asking how it was going, several prosecutors just gave supportive smiles and a few slaps on the back as Jamison walked by.
As soon as the door to Jamison’s office shut, O’Hara opened his mouth and then appeared to think better of it. Jamison dropped the file on his desk and stared out the window, his back to O’Hara. “You want to know why I didn’t go after him more, right? The simple answer, Bill, is that I didn’t have a damn thing to touch him with. McGuiness has sandbagged us all through this case. Going over everything St. Claire testified to and asking him if it was true wasn’t going to do anything to help us.”
It was clear to Jamison there were only a couple cards left to play. He had looked carefully at the receipts and they didn’t look phony. Either St. Claire was telling the truth and Elizabeth was lying or St. Claire obtained the receipts later in order to create an alibi. Jamison had made the only choice he could and went with St. Claire trying to create an alibi. If he couldn’t crack that alibi, then he would lose. It all came down to that. Asking St. Claire over and over whether he’d kidnapped Beth and had drugged her and cut her wasn’t going to crack him, and it was just going to give St. Claire another opportunity to tell the jury that he loved her and would never hurt her.
“Bill, get Elizabeth’s cell phone records.” They had to break St. Claire and the only way to do that was by proving that something he said, anything at all, was a lie; then his whole veneer of credibility would crack. McGuiness would be forced to explain why the jury should believe St. Claire when he had lied.
O’Hara voiced what they were both thinking. “Except for the knife you didn’t lay a glove on him. There was one thing, though. When you asked that question about succinylcholine. He reacted to that. And it appeared McGuiness didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.”
As he faced the window, Jamison could see his own uncertainty reflecting back at him. “No, he hasn’t explained the knife imprint on the seat or the blood, but he has made a possible argument that it wasn’t the knife that we have. It all comes down to making Beth out to be a liar. Their argument is going to be that they don’t have an explanation for the blood on the seat, and we should ask her. They don’t have to prove he put that knife on the car’s seat. We do. And if we don’t put her back on the stand to answer the questions they’ve raised, then we’re going to get pounded in their final argument because they’re going to say they asked the questions and we didn’t give an answer.
“If we do put her back on the stand, they’re going to say she’s lied about so many things, how does the knife prove anything? But about the succinylcholine, you’re right. McGuiness doesn’t know what we’re talking about. St. Claire does, however. You could see the look in his eyes. St. Claire knows we know or at least suspect how he did it. But that isn’t going to mean anything unless we can prove it and St. Claire knows that too.”
O’Hara’s face softened. “Look, I don’t think he’s smarter than us. There has to be something.”
Jamison sat quietly, thinking. “Well, so far he’s proved that he is smarter than us. But even smart people make mistakes. Bill, you and Ernie get on the phones. Call a Sears store and call the Queen Mary. See if there is any way we can find out when those two receipts were made. If we can show the time of day, if we can show anything about them that’s inconsistent with what St. Claire has said, then we’ll know who’s telling the truth.”
“Matt, those receipts are ten years old.”
“You’ve got cases still open that are older than that.” Jamison laughed at the thought. He was surprised that he could find anything humorous at the moment. “And get those damned phone records and the hospital logs. I need to know what’s in them.” Jamison knew he didn’t really need to see them. McGuiness wouldn’t have brought them up unless he already knew.
Jamison drew a long sigh. It was almost seven o’clock in the evening. He was still at his desk trying to figure out what kind of closing argument he was going to make. And then there was the decision about whether he should put Beth back on the stand after McGuiness finished his case.
The ringing phone was a welcome distraction. It was O’Hara. The Sears receipt came from a branch in Torrance, which was only twenty minutes from Long Beach and the Queen Mary. The receipt had no time check and the original tapes were long gone. But O’Hara had checked with a clerk at the store who told him that the clothes he described were for winter. Elizabeth would have known that she needed summer clothes. Jamison immediately understood the point. A woman would have realized that. A guy just walking in and buying baby clothes would not.
Jamison thought about it. It wasn’t much but it was something. It might make an impression on the female jurors. “What about the Queen Mary?”
“Ernie’s working on that. He made some calls and then took off for LA. The ship is supposed to be open until nine. They told Ernie they had to see the receipt so he had to go down there with a copy.”
Finally Jamison had to bite the bullet and ask the question he didn’t want to ask. “And the cell phone and hospital records?”
“We’ll have the cell phone records in the morning. I pulled some strings. One of the retired guys from the sheriff’s office handles security for the phone company. He said he would get them, but it’s going to take a while since almost everybody has gone home for the night.”
“What about the hospital records?”
“McGuiness has them. I couldn’t get them, but I do know that he has the record custodian subpoenaed. We won’t know the answer until tomorrow.”
Jamison hung up the phone. He already knew the answer.
He was lying in his bed still wide-awake when his cell phone rang again. It was Ernie. He’d been at the Queen Mary trying to find out if anybody could help them with the receipt. He’d finally gotten the manager to come down. “Matt, the manager said that he couldn’t tell what time the tickets were purchased simply by the receipt and without the original cash register tape, but he could say that this receipt was for one ticket and not for two. So unless St. Claire bought two tickets separately, then he only bought one ticket.
“When I asked if he had the cash register tapes from ten years ago he told me I was crazy, but that he would look when their warehouse opened tomorrow. He wasn’t even sure that they still had them going back that long, but they do keep them at least until the
y run out of room. So now we know for sure he didn’t buy two tickets and he’s lying about that. We won’t know about anything else until tomorrow.”
It wasn’t much, but Jamison felt his spirits lifting. They were making hairline cracks in St. Claire’s story. “Good work, Ernie. Call me as soon as you know something. If I’m not in my office, have one of the guys bring a note to court so I’ll know what you have. Whatever you do, get the manager up here and bring him with you. I’m going to need him right away if McGuiness decides that he’s got all the momentum and rests his case.”
Chapter 29
In his office by 7 a.m., Jamison hadn’t slept most of the night and his stomach was already starting to sour from the three cups of coffee he had sucked down to get his body moving. Ernie called to say that it would probably be late morning before he could have anything new. Jamison didn’t have until late morning. In his gut he knew what McGuiness was going to do. He was going to put on a few cleanup witnesses and then rest his case. He knew that because that’s what he would do if he was McGuiness.
He was staring at his fourth cup of coffee when O’Hara burst through the door carrying bundles of papers. “Got the phone records.”
“And?”
“And it shows that she did get a call and we know it was from St. Claire’s phone. It was very short, less than a minute and it was around the time Beth testified she left The Packing Shed. Then it shows she made a call back to the same number. It was also very short.”
Jamison looked at the number. “Did you call Beth?”
“Yeah, I figured it was best to get the explanation as soon as possible. She said that she did get a call. She says she answered it but then the person hung up, she thought because she didn’t answer quickly. She says she didn’t recognize the number and she called back but whoever answered didn’t talk and then hung up. But it does confirm that he lied when he said Elizabeth called him.”
“Maybe. All St. Claire’s going to say is that he made a mistake and he was the one who made the call, and then she called him back. But it’s also consistent with our theory that St. Claire was watching her when she left the restaurant and that’s how he knew when to call. It also explains how he was able to follow her home.” Jamison shook his head with frustration, realizing the implications if St. Claire was nearby watching Beth when she left. “This guy is three steps ahead of everyone, including us. Ernie better come up with something because right now we aren’t going to get him on what we’ve got.”
Fractured Justice Page 25
