Accused

by Mark Gimenez

  "Officer Crandall, is this the residence you arrived at that night?"

  "Yes, sir, it is."

  "Does this next photo show the east side of the residence?"

  "Yes, sir, it does."

  "And these are the stairs to the back deck?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And the French doors?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "All right. You entered through those doors. What did you find inside?"

  "We made entry into a large, white bedroom. The lights were on. I observed the room and saw a woman holding a phone."

  "And was that woman Rebecca Fenney, the defendant?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Did you see anyone else?"

  "No, sir, I did not—not anyone alive, anyway. Directly in front of me was the bed on which the victim was lying. He had a knife in his chest. Blood was everywhere."

  "What did you do then?"

  "I remained in the bedroom with the woman while Officer Guerrero cleared the house."

  "Did Officer Guerrero find anyone else in the house?"

  "No, sir. The house was clear."

  "Was the front door locked?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then what did you do?"

  "I told dispatch to send out the homicide detective, M.E., crime scene."

  "Did you touch anything in the bedroom?"

  "No, sir. I waited with the woman for the detective to arrive."

  "How long was it before the detective arrived?"

  "Maybe thirty minutes."

  "And what was the defendant's appearance?"

  "She was wearing a short white nightgown. It was bloody."

  "Did the defendant change her clothes or clean up prior to the detective's arrival at the scene?"

  "No, sir. I was with her the entire time."

  "No further questions, Your Honor."

  Bobby stood and cross-examined the police officer.

  "Officer Crandall, when you entered the residence, did you have your weapon drawn?"

  "Yes, sir, I did."

  "Why?"

  "Dispatch said the perpetrator might still be in the house."

  "But you and Officer Guerrero determined that the perpetrator was not still in the house?"

  The Assistant D.A. stood. "Objection. Defense is mischaracterizing his testimony. The dispatcher had no knowledge of any perpetrator. The officers determined that no one else was in the house. That does not mean there was in fact a third-party perpetrator."

  Bobby turned his palms up, as if confused. "The witness said perpetrator."

  But the judge wasn't buying what he was selling.

  "Sustained. Rephrase, Mr. Herrin."

  "You found no one else in the house?"

  "No, sir."

  "But you found the French doors open?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "So if someone else had been in the house before you arrived, he could have left through the open French doors?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And the beach there is dark, correct?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "So he could have come down the back stairs just seconds before you arrived and hidden just down the beach and you wouldn't have been able to see him, correct?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Officer Crandall, you testified that Ms. Fenney was on the phone when you arrived. To whom was she talking?"

  "The nine-one-one operator."

  "How did Ms. Fenney seem when she first saw you entering the bedroom?"

  "Relieved."

  "Thank you, Officer Crandall."

  The judge recessed for lunch. Scott walked outside the courtroom and saw Renée Ramirez interviewing Officer Crandall in her booth.

  "Gosh," the cop said, "I was so nervous. You think I did okay? That donut remark sounded stupid, didn't it?"

  Like a contestant awaiting the judges' scores on Dancing with the Stars.

  After lunch, Galveston County Medical Examiner Sanjay Sanjeev took the stand. Dr. Sanjeev appeared unaffected by the cameras; he wore a rumpled cotton suit, a blue shirt, and a black tie loosened at his neck. He was a board-certified pathologist, and he testified from his notes like an old med school professor teaching a class.

  He had arrived at the crime scene at just after 5:00 A.M. on Friday, June 5th. The deceased was "found dead." He pronounced Trey Rawlins dead at 5:15 A.M. He observed the body on the bed and the knife in the body. His death investigator took photos of the body in situ. The body was then removed from the scene under his supervision at approximately 8:00 A.M. without removal of the knife. The body was transported to the medical examiner's office where he conducted a complete autopsy later that morning. It was his medical opinion that Trey Rawlins had died from a sharp force injury to the chest, that is, a stab wound that severed his descending aorta resulting in a sudden and massive blood loss; that he was alive at the time he was stabbed; that time of death was between midnight and 3:00 A.M. on Friday, June 5th; that manner of death was homicide. The Assistant D.A. did not show the autopsy photos to the jury.

  Karen handed the autopsy report to Bobby. He stood.

  "Dr. Sanjeev, you conducted a complete autopsy of Trey Rawlins' body, correct?"

  "Yes. I performed an external examination, an internal examination, toxicology, and microscopics."

  "What did you find on your external examination?"

  "The deceased was a well-nourished white male, well-developed musculature, seventy-two inches tall, one hundred eighty pounds, age-appropriate, blond hair, no scars, no tattoos. The body was unclothed."

  "Did you find any evidence that Mr. Rawlins had recently engaged in a physical confrontation? A fight?"

  "Yes. There was bruising on his upper body indicating that he had been grabbed forcefully, there were scratch marks on his upper arms and shoulders, and his upper lip was swollen and blood vessels inside had been broken."

  "As if someone had recently hit him in the mouth?"

  "Yes."

  "Dr. Sanjeev, was sand recovered from the body of Trey Rawlins?"

  "Yes, it was."

  "From what part of the body?"

  "The backside. In his hair, on his back, in his buttocks."

  "Indicating that Mr. Rawlins had lain in the sand recently and prior to his death?"

  "Yes."

  "What did you do with the sand?"

  "Bagged it, gave it to the criminologist. It's in the inventory."

  "Other than the bruises and abrasions on the body—and the knife embedded in the body, of course—were than any other remarkable findings?"

  "Yes."

  "And what was that?"

  "I found cocaine particles in the nostrils."

  "Indicating recent use?"

  "Yes."

  "You then removed the knife from the body?"

  "No. I first X-rayed the body in its entirety then clipped each fingernail and toenail."

  "Did you find anything?"

  "No. I then examined the body with a forensic light, but that was of no value as the skin surface was saturated with his own blood. I took samples of the external blood and oral and rectal swabs and hair samples, head and pubic. I then took fingerprints and DNA samples."

  "Did you find anyone else's blood on the body?"

  "No."

  "Did you then remove the knife?"

  "Yes. The knife handle was first bagged then the blade retracted from the body. It was photographed and measured then placed in an evidence bag and delivered to the criminologist who was attending the autopsy. There had been no medical intervention."

  "Which means?"

  "The deceased had not been administered medical treatment for the stab wound in an effort to save his life. So the wound was unaltered."

  "Would you please describe the wound?"

  "The wound was located approximately nineteen centimeters above the navel and measured four centimeters in width and extended almost through the entirety of the body. It was a fatal wound."

  "Did you then conduct an internal ex
amination?"

  "Yes. I removed and examined and took tissue samples from all major organs and glands. I collected and examined the gastric contents and peripheral blood for a tox screen."

  "And did the screen come back with any positives?"

  "Yes. For alcohol and cocaine. So I collected liver and kidney tissue for follow-up tests. The deceased's blood alcohol level was point-two-six and there was cocaine in his system, six hundred nanograms per milliliter."

  "Indicating that Mr. Rawlins had drunk a significant amount of alcohol and ingested cocaine immediately prior to his death?"

  "Yes."

  "Thank you, Dr. Sanjeev."

  During a short recess, the D.A. stepped over to Scott and said, "Sanjay, he's a bit dry. Someone dies in a house fire, he calls it a 'thermal event.' "

  Outside, Renée was interviewing Dr. Sanjeev.

  After the recess, the county criminologist, Herman Deeks, thirty-five, took the stand. He looked nothing like the cool crime scene guys on CSI Miami. He looked more like the guy working behind the counter at the neighborhood video store. He had arrived directly from a murder scene in shirt sleeves. The judge gave him a hard look then said, "Mr. Deeks, is that blood on your shirt?"

  "What?" Deeks checked his shirt. "Oh, yeah. Nasty crime scene on the mainland, shotgun to the head. Blood splatter was pretty spectacular and—"

  "Thank you."

  Deeks testified on direct about his collection of evidence from the crime scene and from the body at the autopsy. He collected fingerprints from the murder weapon; fingerprints, handprints, and footprints in the bedroom, the outside deck, and elsewhere in the residence; blood samples from the victim and the defendant and from the scene; clothing worn by the defendant; bedding; sand from the bed and floor; sand and DNA from the defendant's underwear; hair from the victim, the defendant, and unidentified blond hair from the victim's closet.

  Bobby stood and asked, "Mr. Deeks, you were just at a murder scene?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you wear latex gloves while processing the scene?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "So I didn't get blood on my hands."

  "And so you didn't leave your fingerprints on the evidence?"

  "Yes."

  "And so you didn't disturb fingerprints already on the evidence?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you wear latex gloves at the Rawlins crime scene?"

  "Yes."

  "Mr. Deeks, what did you do with the prints you collected?"

  "Sent them to the DPS lab."

  "Were any prints found that did not belong to either the victim or the defendant?"

  "Yes. I found prints that belonged to Rosie Gonzales and three sets of unidentified prints—one set on the island counter in the kitchen, another on the headboard of the bed in the master suite, and another on the mirror in the master closet."

  "Have you subsequently identified those prints?"

  "I have not. I turned the file over to Hank Kowalski, the district attorney's investigator. I understand that he followed up on those prints."

  "Mr. Deeks, you examined and photographed Ms. Fenney that night, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you find any evidence that Ms. Fenney had engaged in a recent physical struggle?"

  "No."

  "Did you find any skin tissue under her fingernails?"

  "No."

  "Did you find any bruises or abrasions on her knuckles indicating that she had recently hit someone?"

  "No."

  "What was the form of the DNA collected from Ms. Fenney's underwear?"

  "Semen."

  "And to whom did that belong?"

  "The victim. Trey Rawlins."

  "Indicating recent sexual intercourse?"

  "Yes."

  "And was sand recovered from Ms. Fenney's underwear?"

  "Yes."

  "Which would indicate that the sexual intercourse occurred on the beach?"

  "Yes."

  The Department of Public Safety lab in Austin sent technician Stephen Haynes to testify about the fingerprints on the murder weapon. He seemed more concerned about his per diem travel allowance than his testimony. Under the Assistant D.A.'s questioning, he testified that Rebecca's right hand fingerprints were found on the handle of the knife and aligned with her thumb toward the end of the handle and not toward the blade, indicating that she had held the knife with the blade down as if to stab rather than with the blade up as if to cut. Bobby then questioned the witness.

  "Mr. Haynes, when were those fingerprints put on the knife?"

  "When?"

  "Yes, when. Were they put there on June fifth or May fifth or April fifth?"

  "I can't say."

  "Why not?"

  "I have no way of knowing that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because those prints could have been put on that knife the day before or the year before."

  "You're saying that Ms. Fenney could have handled that knife a year before the murder and never touched that knife again, and her prints might still be on that knife?"

  "Yes. That's what I'm saying."

  "Mr. Haynes, if I put on a latex glove and removed the murder weapon from the plastic bag and then grabbed the handle right now in this courtroom, would I leave my fingerprints on that knife?"

  "No. The glove would prevent that."

  "Would I obliterate Ms. Fenney's prints that are on the knife?"

  "Not necessarily."

  "Okay. So, Mr. Haynes, your testimony is in no way stating or implying to this jury that because only the defendant's fingerprints are on that knife that she is therefore the only person who could have stabbed the victim with that knife?"

  "No, sir, I am not saying that."

  "Mr. Haynes, would scrubbing a stainless steel countertop with Clorox and soap and Pine-Sol remove fingerprints?"

  "Most definitely."

  "Your Honor," Karen said. "Defense requests a recess."

  The judge looked from Bobby to Karen, who had a funny expression on her face.

  "Ms. Douglas, your co-counsel is conducting cross-examination. For what reason do you request a recess?"

  "My water broke."

  An eight-pound-two-ounce boy was born to Robert Herrin and Karen Douglas-Herrin at 7:37 P.M. at the UTMB hospital on Galveston Island, one of 2,500 babies born there in the first seven months of the year. UTMB was the charity hospital serving Galveston County.

  "Scott Carlos Louis Herrin," Bobby said.

  He stuck a big cigar in Scott's open mouth.

  "Wow, Bobby, I'm honored."

  "We're gonna call him Bud."

  "Oh."

  "Just kidding. You guys are like our brothers. What better names?"

  "You're a father now." Scott hugged his best friend. "Start saving money for college."

  Aligned along the glass window like visitors at the penguin exhibit at Moody Gardens were Scott and Bobby, Louis and Carlos, and Boo and Pajamae. The girls had their faces and hands plastered to the glass, oohing and aahing at the newborns.

  "I don't like looking at them through the glass," Boo said. "I want to touch them."

  Rebecca stood along the opposite wall. Scott glanced at her, and she motioned him over. He went to her; she lowered her voice.

  "Scott, if they send me to prison, don't bring Boo to visit. I don't want her to see me though a glass window like that. I don't want her to remember me that way."

  FORTY-THREE

  The second day of trial began with Detective Chuck Wilson giving his best Clint Eastwood imitation for the cameras. Scott could picture him pointing a gun at a kid trespassing on his grass and growling through clenched teeth, "Get off my lawn." He was fifty years old, he had a flat-top haircut, he wore a suit for his court appearance, and he had already retained a literary agent, a fact Scott had learned from Sarge. Wilson was an experienced homicide detective. He had worked the grimy Galveston murders for twenty-two years; now he had finally caught a glitzy tabloid m
urder. He was determined to make the most of the opportunity. He would present the prosecution's theory of the crime. District Attorney Rex Truitt questioned his star witness.

  "Detective Wilson, what time did you arrive at the crime scene?"

  "Approximately four-thirty A.M. on Friday, June fifth."

  "And how did you enter the house?"

  "Through the front door."

  "Who was present when you arrived?"

  "Two patrol officers, the criminologist, and the defendant."

  "And where were they?"

  "In the bedroom. The crime scene."

  "And what did you see when you entered the bedroom?"

  "I observed the victim lying on the bed with a knife in his chest … the bed soaked in blood … bloody footprints on the floor leading to the French doors … blood stains on the white curtains and on the wall around the light switch … blood on the phone … and blood on the defendant's white nightgown and body."

  It was time for the crime scene photos.

  "Detective Wilson, would you please look at your computer screen, and I direct the jury to the screen above the witness."

  Scott observed the jury when the first photo was displayed on the video screen on the wall. He expected a noticeable reaction from the jurors—gasps, recoiling in horror, averted eyes, something—but he got nothing. They acted as if a color blow-up of a bloody crime scene was nothing out of the ordinary. And then he realized it wasn't. They viewed similarly graphic scenes every night on television. It was just like watching a cop show.

  "Detective, does this photo accurately represent the bedroom as you observed it?"

  "Yes, it does. This is a view of the bedroom from the door on the north side. The French doors you see are to the south. Through those doors is the outside deck. On the east side of the room is the bed. The victim is lying on the bed."

  "That is the way you found the victim, with the knife still in him?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "And would you identify this photo?"

  The next photo was shown on the screen, a close-up of the deceased. Still no reaction from the jurors. Did they even understand that this was real? That a human being had died?

  "This is a shot of the bed and the victim. He was naked and bled out profusely. The bed is covered in his blood except where the defendant had been lying, as the blood flowed over and around her body."