“An expensive boat?” says Ryan.
“I wish I had one,” says Koblinski.
The jury laughs a little.
Jonah’s smile is forced. He’s not looking well.
“And what did you find on board?”
“Traces of blood. Lots of fish blood.”
“Is there any way of knowing if it was the same as the blood found on the victim’s clothing?”
“I couldn’t. Probably too much cross contamination. Too many different kinds of fish.”
“What else did you find?”
“Fish scales.”
“This would be pretty common on a fishing boat?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you find any scales that matched the ones on the victim’s clothing?”
“No. But I did find a picture.”
“Just a moment,” says Ryan. He whispers to one of his minions, an assistant at the table next to Avery. The younger lawyer scurries to the evidence cart and collects an envelope, hands it to the bailiff.
Koblinski gets it and opens the envelope.
“Do you recognize the picture?” says Ryan.
“Yep. It’s the one I found on the boat.”
“Could you tell the jury what’s in that picture?”
“It’s a shot of the defendant, standing on the docks next to his boat. And a large fish,” says Koblinski. “A blue marlin.”
“The same kind of scales you found on the victim’s clothing?”
“Right.”
“Did you examine anything else belonging to the defendant either that day or shortly thereafter?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Some fishing overalls. Rubberized canvas,” says Koblinski.
“Where did you find these?”
“At the defendant’s residence.”
“And did you find anything on them? Trace evidence?” says Ryan.
“A lot of fish blood on them. And organic traces.”
“Any fish scales?”
“All over them,” says Koblinski.
“Blue marlin scales?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“We impounded one of the defendant’s vehicles, a nineteen ninety-six green Ford Explorer. We had it towed to the yard.”
“This would be the city’s impound lot?”
“Right.”
“Did you inspect this vehicle?”
“We did.”
“And what did you find?”
“More of the same,” says Koblinski. “Dried fish blood on the canvas seat covers, front and rear.”
“Driver and passenger side?”
“Right.”
“And what else?”
“We found a considerable amount of trace evidence on the seat covers, fish scales, a variety,” he says. “But there was a concentration of blue marlin scales on the driver’s seat and the front passenger seat.”
“Could you describe these covers?”
“Canvas,” says Koblinski. “They look like they might have been used for something else originally. Boat dodgers, maybe an old bimini top. They were green, cut into large squares and laid over the seats.”
“And these marlin scales, the trace evidence that you found, they were just lying on them?”
“No. The scales are spiny. Sharp pointed edges when you look at them under the microscope. These would tend to adhere to fabric. The tiny spines would become embedded in the woven threads.”
“Is that how you found them on the victim’s clothing as well? Embedded in the weave of the fabric?”
“Some of them.”
“Did you collect samples of the dried fish blood and the scales from the defendant’s seat covers?”
“We did.”
“And you took samples from the victim’s clothing?”
“Yes.”
“Did you discover anything else in your search of the defendant’s vehicle? The green Ford Explorer?”
“Yes. We found a tag, what appeared to be a claim check from a taxidermy shop in the south bay. It was old, dated four months earlier. But we took a chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“We went to Sal’s Taxidermy. The place that issued the claim check.”
“What did you find?”
“The claim ticket in question had been issued to the defendant several months earlier. According to the shop’s records, it was for preparation of a large sea bass.”
“Preparation?”
“Stuffing and mounting,” says Koblinski. “But we also discovered that a much larger fish had been delivered to the shop three days earlier, not by the defendant, but by one of his deckhands—”
“Objection. Hearsay.”
“Sustained,” says Peltro.
“Did you have occasion to see another fish while you were at Sal’s Taxidermy?”
“We did. In cold storage.”
“Could you describe that fish?”
“It was a large blue marlin, just under a thousand pounds. The weight was marked on the tag. It was a large fish for Southern California. They get bigger sometimes, off Kona in Hawaii and Australia. But a thousand pounds is big for the Pacific coast. Probably El Niño,” says Koblinski. “Everything’s pushed up from down south.”
“You know something about marlin?”
“I’ve gone out for them on charter, a couple of times.”
“And this was a bigger fish than you’d ever seen?”
“Yeah.”
“You say you saw the tag. Was the name of the person who caught that fish displayed on the tag?”
“It was.”
“What was that name?”
“The defendant. Jonah Hale.” Koblinski looks at Jonah as he says it.
“Did you collect samples of blood and scales from this marlin, the one with the defendant’s name on it at Sal’s Taxidermy?”
“I did.”
“And did you examine the fish scales under a microscope?”
“Yes.”
“Did you form any conclusions, or opinions from your examination?”
“Yes. I concluded that the scales taken from the clothing of the victim, Zolanda Suade, under microscopic examination appeared to be consistent in size, color, and character with those collected from the seat covers of the defendant’s vehicle. They also appeared to be consistent in size, color, and character with the scales collected from the marlin in cold storage at Sal’s Taxidermy.”
“One final question. Did you collect samples of the dried blood from the victim’s clothing as well as samples of blood from the marlin in cold storage and send them to another lab for testing?”
“I did. Along with tissue samples from the fish.”
“And where did you send those?”
“Genetics Incorporated in Berkeley, California.”
“Thank you, Mr. Koblinski. Your witness,” says Ryan.
Ryan’s getting up to speed, doing some damage now, though he’s left a few items for me to chew on.
“Mr. Koblinski. Is it Mister, or Officer?”
“Mister,” he says. Koblinski is not sworn law enforcement, but a lab technician.
“Let’s start with your examination of Mr. Hale’s vehicle. The nineteen ninety-six Ford Explorer. You searched that vehicle, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“How did you do that?”
“We vacuumed it,” he says. “Special vacuum with filters. Marked each filter as to location and placed them in evidence bags.”
“This is how you collected the traces of dried fish blood and fish scales?”
“That and examination u
nder magnifying glass. Collection with tweezers and forceps.”
“So your search was pretty thorough?”
“It was.”
“Did you find any spent bullet cartridges in Mr. Hale’s car?”
“No.”
“Did you find any evidence of human blood in the car?”
“It would have been impossible to distinguish. The car was too contaminated by other species. Fish,” he says.
“But you weren’t able to find any human blood, right?”
“No.”
“Did you look?”
“Sure.”
“In your earlier testimony I think you described one of the wounds suffered by the victim as a ‘bleeder.’”
“I’m gonna object,” says Ryan. “The witness is not a medical expert.”
“His words,” I say.
“I’ll overrule it.”
“Didn’t you say one of the wounds was a ‘bleeder’?”
“I might have.”
“What did you mean by that?”
“The bullet probably hit a large artery.”
“So this would result in that wound producing a good quantity of blood? Isn’t that what you described seeing on the ground? The blood smear?”
“Yeah.”
“And yet you didn’t find any human blood in the defendant’s car?”
“As I said, the vehicle was contaminated.”
“Mr. Koblinski, have you ever examined fish scales previously, either in another case or while studying?”
“Sure.”
“Have you ever examined blue marlin scales?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it a fact that samples or specimens of scales from one blue marlin might look very much like any other blue marlin under a microscope?”
“They might. But most people don’t get that close to them to track the scales into their cars.”
Koblinski’s smiling at me now, giving me the feeling I’ve stepped in it. I could drop it, but the jury’s going to wonder why.
“You mean the average person doesn’t catch a blue marlin?”
“No. That, too,” he says. “But most people who catch them tag and release them. Everybody I know,” he says. “They don’t haul them on board. Marlin is a sport fish. It’s no good for eating. Most sport fishers are becoming conservationists,” says Koblinski. As he says this he looks at Jonah. So does half the jury.
I could get into it with him. This was a trophy fish. How many times do you catch a thousand-pounder? Koblinski would no doubt draw images of harpooning a whale, Free Willie on a barbecue spit. I drop it as fast as I can. All the ways a sharp witness can kill you.
“Are you familiar with the theory of transference?” I ask him.
The jury’s still seeing blood in the water. Not interested in what I’m saying at the moment.
“Sure.”
“And cross-transference?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Could you tell the jury what these are?”
“It’s where microscopic or macroscopic evidence clings to an object, say clothing. By static electricity or gets caught in the fabric, and transfers from one surface to another.”
“And cross-transference?” I say.
“Other way around,” he says.
“For example, fibers from the victim’s clothing found on a car seat cover. Or strands of the victim’s hair on the back of a seat.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Did you find any fibers from the victim’s clothing on the seat covers in Mr. Hale’s green Ford Explorer?”
“No.”
“Do you know what kind of fabric the victim’s clothing was made of?”
“It was wool. Pants and top. Kind of a toreador suit,” he says.
“Wouldn’t you expect to find traces of fibers from this suit if she sat on these seat covers?”
“Not in this case,” he says. “There was evidence that someone had cleaned out the vehicle recently. The ashtray was empty.” Like a land mine, I have stepped on it.
When I look over, Ryan’s smirking from the counsel table, things finally going his way. The fact is not lost on the jury. How likely is it that a man who smokes cigars, enough to purchase them at a thousand dollars a box from a private back room, would happen to have a clean ashtray in his car on the day it’s checked? Unless he had a reason.
“We think somebody probably shook the seat covers out, too,” says Koblinski.
“If she was dragged out of the car, wouldn’t you expect some of these fibers, fibers from her clothing to become abraded, left behind on the seat, maybe on the floor of the vehicle?”
“It’s possible, but like I say, if the covers were shaken out, maybe not.”
“But you didn’t find any in the defendant’s car?”
“Fibers from the victim?”
“Yes.”
“No,” says Koblinski.
“Did you find any strands of the victim’s hair on the headrest, or on the passenger seat?”
“No.”
“Did you find any traces of her hair anywhere in that vehicle?”
“No. It was pretty clean.”
“And you checked all your filters. The special forensic vacuum filters you used on that vehicle?”
“Yes.”
“And you found nothing?”
“We found fish blood and scales. They were stuck to the seat covers,” says the witness.
“You know what I’m talking about, Mr. Koblinski. I’m talking about evidence of cross-transference, hair and fibers belonging to the victim. Wouldn’t you expect to find trace evidence of these if the victim had been seated in that car? Isn’t it probable? Even if somebody shook out the seat covers? Isn’t it likely that there would have been some trace evidence of the victim in that vehicle?”
“It’s possible,” he says. “I couldn’t say.” All of this with a smile.
TWENTY–SIX
* * *
Ryan’s on a roll. The next morning he comes right behind Koblinski with a clincher. It’s what I’d feared earlier: DNA—not Suade’s blood, but the fish.
Howard Sandler is a forensic serologist. A Ph.D. who, among other things, performs genetic fingerprinting, but with a twist. He works for a private lab in Berkeley, where their speciality is endangered species and poaching.
Ryan spends nearly half an hour qualifying the witness as an expert, going over Sandler’s curriculum vitae before he gets to the issue—a DNA fingerprint.
“Is this something that you’re asked to do on a regular basis?”
“Not usually,” says Sandler. “Normally requests relate to fish stock identification, gene flow. What we could call population genetic structures, to help manage resources. It’s unusual to get a request for specific genetic identification, but it does happen. Usually in cases of suspected poaching.”
“But it is possible to do what you were being asked to do in this case, to determine if a dried sample of blood came from a specific fish, a so-called genetic fingerprint?”
“That depends on the sample. Whether there’s sufficient genetic material. But as a general principle, yes, it is possible.”
“Can you tell the jury what type of testing you used in this case?”
“The technique is called polymerase chain reaction. It’s known by the acronym PCR.”
“And what exactly does this PCR process do?”
“All living organisms are composed of strands of genetic material known as chromosomes. They’re arranged like beads on a thread. The order in which these chromosomes are arranged determines the genetic makeup of the organism. Whether it’s going to be a cow, or a poppy in a field. If it’s a cow, whether it’s going to be light in color or
dark. Whether it’s going to be a Jersey or a Guernsey. The building blocks of the chromosomes are DNA molecules. These building blocks of DNA are arranged in a kind of coiled ladder called a double helix. And the precise manner in which the molecules of DNA are arranged is specific and unique to every individual living organism. This is what you might call the DNA fingerprint.”
“So by identifying this fingerprint you can determine whether a drop of blood from a crime scene came from that specific animal, or in this case a specific fish, as might be the case with the blue marlin in cold storage?”
“That’s right.”
“Now this PCR process, can you tell us, just in layman’s terms, how does it work?”
“The P stands for polymerase. These are enzymes used by the DNA molecule to assemble a new DNA strand in a proper sequence, consistent with the original or parent DNA strand. This would be necessary for cell division and growth, in order for the organism to continue living. In the polymerase chain reaction, small quantities of DNA or broken pieces of DNA from a crime scene, such as a small amount of dried blood, as opposed to DNA from a living cell, can be copied in a relatively short period of time, say a few hours. Once the DNA is copied, replicated, it can be analyzed by any number of methods of molecular biology in order to compare it with other known samples.”
“In this case, the samples of blood and tissue from the blue marlin in cold storage?” Ryan is good at this, bringing the witness back to the particulars of his case.
“That’s right. The DNA strands will either be identical or they won’t. There’s no middle ground.”
“And what are the chances that two living organisms would have identical genetic fingerprints?”
“In this case?”
“Yes.”
“Infinitesimal,” says the witness. “One chance in about fifteen billion.”
Ryan wrinkles his eyebrows, steps back from the podium. Puts on a display of incredulity for the jury.
It’s as neat and clean a description of the process as I’ve ever heard.
“In short, you would have a much better chance of winning the lottery without a ticket. Is that what you’re telling us?” Ryan looks at Jonah as he says it.
“Objection.”
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the question. Mr. Ryan . . .” Peltro holding the gavel up like a school ruler about to rap knuckles. “Get on with your case.”
The Attorney Page 29