by Sydney Bauer
Katz stopped in his tracks. ‘One in a billion!’ he exclaimed for effect.
‘Yes,’ replied Martinelli.
The Kat shook his head in wonder – his point more than made.
‘The blood found in little Eliza Walker's bedroom – I believe it was a DNA match to the body of the child found some weeks after her murder?’
‘That's correct,’ said Martinelli. ‘Of course we suspected this beforehand because infant blood is quite unique in its make-up, but the discovery of the body confirmed it.’
‘And the amount of blood found in the bedroom led you to believe the child had bled out at the scene?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because of the volume present?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how many litres might that be?’
‘An infant that size carries approximately three to four litres of blood,’ said Martinelli as the jury squirmed in their seats.
‘And you found three to four litres?’
‘Of the baby's blood, yes.’
‘The baby's blood?’ Katz's brow furrowed in faux confusion. ‘Are you saying that another blood sample was found at the scene?’
‘Yes.’
‘On top of the three to four litres?’
‘Yes. We found a total of approximately four and a half litres in spatter.’
‘And there is no way a baby of Eliza Walker's age would have held such a volume of blood?’
‘It would be highly unlikely.’
‘So the remaining half a litre or so?’ the DA led his witness.
‘Came from an adult female. Blood type A.’
‘And Eliza Walker was type AB, was she not?’ The Kat wanted to make sure the jury were clear.
‘Yes.’
David took a breath.
‘And did you identify the person to which this second adult sample belonged?’
‘Yes. It belonged to the defendant, Sienna Walker.’
David wanted to object but knew there was no point to it. Sienna's blood was at the scene – there was no doubt about it – and he would have to wait until his cross-examination to even attempt to introduce an explanation for this.
‘You found Mrs Walker's blood in the bedroom?’
‘Yes.’
‘A good deal of it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And as an experienced forensics technician, the conclusion you made as to …?’
‘Objection.’ David saw a window. ‘With all due respect to the Lieutenant, Your Honor, the question calls for speculation.’
‘Judge,’ the Kat was ready. ‘I think we have established Lieutenant Martinelli's unsurpassed record and experience in his chosen area of forensic science. His job is to analyse the evidence, and that requires a certain degree of speculation based on decades of exposure to evidence found at scenes such as Eliza Walker's bedroom.’
Stein considered the Kat's argument before turning to David. ‘He's right. Objection overruled. The witness may answer the question.’
David tried desperately not to show his disappointment as the DA nodded for Martinelli to go on.
‘I concluded Mrs Walker's blood at the scene indicated that she had also bled in the bedroom.’ It was an obvious answer, but it carried connotations David knew they would find it almost impossible to recover from.
‘She cut herself?’
Martinelli nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘On a knife or …?’
‘Objection.’ David was up again, knowing he had to play this one carefully. ‘Your Honor, please, there is no way Lieutenant Martinelli could answer this question with any certainty. There is no evidence that Mrs Walker cut herself at all, let alone what the cause of this phantom cut may have been.’
‘Your Honor,’ the Kat didn't miss a beat, ‘as we have already established, the blood indicated the defendant was bleeding. We know the victim was killed with a knife. So once again I am only offering the most logical explanation for –’
‘Perhaps, but that's a step too far, Mr Katz,’ said Stein. ‘Objection sustained,’ he ruled.
But David knew the victory was a hollow one – the DA had set the jury a path and they were well and truly on it.
Minutes later the satisfied DA moved on to the forensic evidence accumulated from Eliza Walker's body, the nightshirt she was wrapped in and the gutter pipe from which her small body was pulled. And David braced himself for what could well be the most emotionally damaging testimony of the trial, knowing that – if the jury found yesterday's images of Eliza's bedroom disturbing – the photographs the DA would no doubt try to get into evidence here, would be catastrophically damaging in comparison.
‘Your Honor, at this stage I would ask the court's permission to display a series of images taken both in Mrs Walker's courtyard and –’
‘Objection!’ David did not underestimate the importance of his winning this objection. The images from that courtyard had the potential to live in the jury's memories forever, as they would in his own. He knew he could not stop the fourteen from being exposed to such photographic evidence, but he could perhaps alter the manner in which these visuals were delivered.
‘Side bar, Your Honor?’ he requested, knowing his arguments would be better aired in private given that what he was about to say would appear to the jury like he was desperate to restrict evidence that was key to the prosecution's case.
Stein agreed, calling David and the DA to his bench.
‘Your Honor,’ David began. ‘The DA is obviously determined to influence the entire courtroom by displaying images in a form that can only be assessed emotionally. The photographs submitted in discovery were eight by tens in black and white, not poster-sized placards in full-blown colour.’
‘I tend to agree,’ said Stein. ‘Mr Katz?’ he called for the DA's response.
‘Your Honor, the display of such images is nothing new in cases like this.’
‘Not for you maybe.’ David could not help himself.
Stein gave him a look of displeasure.
‘I can assure you, Your Honor,’ the Kat went on, ‘that the display of these images in the manner I propose is a matter of logistical necessity. I want to ask the witness to point to certain areas in the photographs, which is impossible if the jury are passing around the black and whites by hand.’
‘You're going to ask the witness to leave his seat?’ asked Stein.
‘With your permission, Your Honor. The images of the baby's clothing and the nightshirt she was wrapped in are of specific significance, as they go to the nature of the cause of death.’
‘Oh for god's sakes,’ said David. ‘No one is disputing the cause of death, Roger.’
‘Then why would you have a problem with the imagery that supports this?’
The DA had him, and sadly David knew it. ‘Your Honor,’ he attempted, but he knew Stein had no choice but to allow what the DA had successfully argued was a procedural necessity to his case.
‘I'll allow it, Mr Katz, but you know how I feel about having my courtroom turned into a playhouse.’
‘I can assure you, Your Honor, I have too much respect for the court and, more to the point, the victim, to even contemplate using her death to win points on the back of theatrics.’
‘Oh for fuck's sake,’ said David.
‘I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Mr Cavanaugh. Now step back before I hold you in contempt.’
*
‘Mannix,’ barked Joe after he'd dragged his cell out from his inside jacket pocket. He and Frank were on the road, cruising other local motels for any sign of the man named Marco De Lorenzo. They knew the cause was close to hopeless, and Joe was ruing their being so close and coming up with zero.
‘It's Susan,’ said their FBI friend Susan Leigh. ‘You sound pissed.’
‘I am pissed,’ replied Joe. He looked at Frank. ‘Hold on, I'm in the car with Frank. I'm putting you on speaker.’
‘You pissed too, McKay?’ asked Susan as a greeting.
‘Been be
tter, Susan.’
‘Then I'm afraid I'm gonna dump some more rain on your parade.’ Susan took a breath. ‘You got my message about your guy St John being in the country?’
Susan had used her FBI clout to get immigration to pull records on international arrivals at rocket speed – and Joe was grateful.
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Well I made a few more calls in regard to his credit card and found out he's staying at the Four Seasons.’
‘A rich shrink,’ said Joe. ‘Why am I not surprised?’
‘No,’ said Susan, ‘that's not what I mean. There was a charge for room service on the card that was instantaneously reversed. Apparently St John complained. Told the hotel's reception manager that all expenses, along with his $650-a-night suite, were to be charged directly to the District Attorney's office.’
Joe frowned as he glanced right at Frank. ‘This St John must be important to him if he's willing to fork out …’
‘The DA's as cheap as a three-legged cow, Chief,’ said Frank.
Joe said nothing, knowing that Frank was right.
‘You talk to Cavanaugh?’ asked Susan, changing tack.
‘He's gonna ask his client about the shrink – if she's seen him before.’
‘Okay,’ said Susan. ‘Well, you know where I am if there's anything else.’
Joe didn't hesitate. He knew it was vital they keep their current line of investigation confidential, but he also knew time was running out fast, and he trusted Susan unequivocally. ‘Marco De Lorenzo, forty-five, single. He's unemployed, kind of a drifter, last spotted at a motel in Lincoln. He was driving a light blue Buick but I don't have a plate.’
‘De Lorenzo,’ she said slowly.
Joe imagined her writing it down.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I'll see what I can find out.’
Joe looked at Frank again, knowing they were both thinking the same thing – that Susan was something special. She never even considered asking them why.
‘Thanks, Susan,’ said Joe.
‘That's okay,’ she replied. ‘We're all on the same team, Chief.’
Most of the time, thought Joe. But not always. ‘We'd better go,’ he said.
‘Okay. I just have one more question for Frank.’
‘Shoot,’ said Frank.
‘Why are three-legged cows cheap, McKay?’
‘Because they're meant to have four,’ said Frank.
‘Of course,’ said Susan.
‘Wasn't it obvious?’ said Joe.
‘Guess I'm slow,’ said Susan, before disconnecting the call.
73
‘It is called arterial spurting,’ said Martinelli.
David swallowed. The day was not going well. There had been one plus – his mid-morning recess conversation with Sienna had confirmed she had never seen nor heard of the British psych named St John – but Martinelli's testimony, all three hours of it so far, was hurting them.
‘Arterial spurting,’ repeated the Kat, who was as fresh and aggressive as he was when the session first started. ‘And this means …?’
‘The staining on her baby clothes and the corresponding blood spatter on the bedroom wall above her cot indicate that when her throat was cut, an artery was severed. In simple terms, arterial spurting refers to the gushing of blood from the wound site.’
‘But I thought it was Eliza's jugular vein that was severed?’ said the DA.
‘Yes, but veins tend to bleed in a river-like fashion. This would explain the soaking down the right-hand side of the baby's bed suit.’ Martinelli gestured toward the blown-up image of Eliza Walker's all-in-one suit. ‘The arterial spurting accounted for the spatter on the walls and the corresponding spatter found on the nightshirt her body was wrapped in.’
‘The spray seen here on the defendant's nightshirt,’ confirmed Katz.
‘Yes,’ said Martinelli, who had been over this twice before. In fact the Lieutenant had been moving back and forward between images of the nightshirt, Eliza Walker's night clothes and a resurrected shot of Eliza's bedroom for much of the past two hours. The only plus was that David sensed the jury were starting to tire.
The DA nodded. ‘And so, in conclusion,’ he said, perhaps deciding that he should get out while he was still ahead, ‘the blood spatter in the bedroom – the walls, the pooling on the carpet next to the cot, the stains on the defendant's nightshirt and the evidence on Eliza's clothing – what do all of these blood spatter indicators tell you, as one of the most experienced crime scene forensics experts in the country, about how the child was killed?’
‘Objection. Speculation,’ said David.
‘Overruled,’ said Stein. ‘The witness's job is to draw conclusions based on the evidence and his analysis of it. You may answer the question, Lieutenant,’ he said.
David suppressed a sigh of frustration.
‘Given the evidence,’ Martinelli continued after a breath, ‘I would conclude Eliza Walker's throat was cut from left to right while being held by the person wearing the nightshirt.’
And there it was.
‘And could you be more specific about the manner in which the child was being held at the time when her life was taken?’
Martinelli breathed again. ‘She was being cradled.’
‘Like this,’ Katz mimicked a mother's embrace.
‘Yes.’
The Kat shook his head, allowing his arms to drop to his sides as if defeated by the very thought of it.
‘Thank you. I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor,’ he said as he moved slowly back to his desk, giving David the slightest of glances, a glint of pure victory in his eyes.
*
‘Lieutenant Martinelli,’ said David. He was up and moving – fast – determined to break the mood of mourning his nemesis had so successfully cultivated. He now knew, given Katz's so far impeccable prosecution, that he had no choice but to throw everything at Martinelli that he could get his hands on – whether or not it made sense at this point.
‘Were you in Eliza Walker's bedroom at the time of her death?’
Martinelli hesitated after retaking his seat. The question was almost derogatory but David sensed the forensic guru would have almost expected an aggressive cross after the DA's successful examination.
‘No,’ he said.
‘So you cannot confirm it was my client who was wearing that nightshirt?’
Another pause. ‘No.’
‘Or that she was the one who was cradling the baby in death?’
‘No.’
‘But in your opinion the person wearing the nightshirt did indeed kill Eliza Walker?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we agree on one point,’ he nodded, the first box he intended to tick ticked.
‘My client's blood …’ David knew he had the jury's attention now and was determined to make the most of it. ‘The half-litre or so you found at the crime scene, was there anything unusual about the sample you collected?’
David's aim was to fire a series of shots over the bow – seemingly random, disjointed shots he prayed would both confuse the DA and come together in some sort of order by the end of his cross.
‘Can you confirm what you mean by unusual?’ asked the witness.
‘Well,’ said David, ‘did you note the presence of any particular chemical substance in my client's blood?’
‘Objection.’ The DA grabbed for a file on his desk. ‘The defendant was examined at great length both before and after her arrest. Blood tests did not find any trace of any narcotic including those used in common antidepressants.’
The Kat thought David was playing the post-partum depression card, but he was wrong.
‘I didn't ask the witness about antidepressants, Your Honor,’ said David.
‘He's right, Mr Katz. I'll give him some room here. Objection overruled.’
The DA retook his seat.
‘Lieutenant, would you like me to repeat the question?’ asked David of Dan Martinelli then.
/>
‘No, my answer is yes … I mean, I did find trace elements of a chemical compound in the blood sample belonging to the defendant.’
‘And the drug?’
‘It was dimethyl sulfoxide or DMSO.’
‘And this DMSO, what is it used for?’
‘It's an anti-inflammatory, used to treat injuries.’
‘Like pulled muscles or sore joints?’
‘Yes.’
‘And does it have any other uses?’
Martinelli nodded. ‘It is used in cryopreservation.’
‘It's used to preserve blood?’
‘Yes.’
‘By freezing it for use at a later date?’
‘Yes.’
‘In transfusions and the like?’
‘Yes. It's added to the blood to preserve it during transportation, for example – so that it might be transfused at a later date.’
‘So the blood sample you identified as belonging to my client contained a drug which suggests that blood may have been taken and frozen at some time prior to –’
‘Objection!’ The Kat shot up. ‘Your Honor, this is unacceptable. Mr Cavanaugh is obviously using some vague reference to some easily explained trace element. This line of questioning is not only irrelevant and misleading but is tantamount to unfair surprise given the Lieutenant did not place any importance on the presence of this substance in his report. As such I would ask this portion of the witness's testimony be stricken from –’
‘Your Honor,’ David didn't miss a beat. ‘The DMSO is in the Lieutenant's report. ‘Perhaps the DA was so enamoured by the accompanying photographs that he –’
‘Mr Cavanaugh,’ barked Stein. ‘One more comment like that and I'll fine you for insubordination.’ Stein took a breath. ‘That being said,’ he turned to Martinelli, ‘is the substance listed in your analysis, Lieutenant?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Your Honor,’ offered Martinelli. ‘Page 13 section 5(b).’
‘And this is the same report provided to the prosecution?’
‘Yes, some months ago,’ said Martinelli.
David had to swallow a smile.