by Teri Ames
“Good. Let me ask you again. Did you ask my client why he had the keys?”
“No, I did not.”
“Because you were busy accusing him of murder, right?”
“I was interrogating a potential murder suspect.”
“Which involved making accusations, didn’t it?”
“There are techniques we use to get people to talk, admit to things they’ve done.”
“And those techniques involve making accusations, right?”
“Sometimes.”
“But Keenan didn’t admit to doing anything, did he?”
“No.”
“Your accusations made him uncomfortable, didn’t they?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Don’t most people get uncomfortable when they’re accused of murder?”
“Objection. He’s not a psychologist.”
“Sustained.”
“Did my client appear uncomfortable to you?”
“Yes, he did. Because he knew he’d been caught.”
“Or because he was being accused of something he didn’t do. That’s possible too, isn’t it?”
“That wasn’t my take on it.”
“My client never admitted outright to killing Shannon Dawson, did he?”
“He admitted that he knew she was dead when, as far as everyone else was concerned, she was just missing.”
“Let’s talk about that. When you interviewed Keenan on Christmas Eve, did you think Shannon was dead?”
“I knew it was a possibility.”
“Why?”
“Because she’d been missing for four days.”
“That’s a long time for a girl her age, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Why else?”
“Because she hadn’t used her cell phone for four days.”
“That’s unusual for someone her age too, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Because kids her age are constantly on their phones. Don’t put them down unless they have to, right?”
“Yes.”
“Was Keenan aware that Shannon had not used her cell when he used the words, ‘She’s dead’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me refresh your recollection.” Barry handed the officer the transcript again and waited while he read it. “Isn’t it true that just before Keenan used those words, you told him he was the last person to have phone contact with Shannon?”
“Yes.”
“Four days before?”
“Yes.”
“So, isn’t it true that when Keenan said, ‘She’s dead,’ he was actually just stating the obvious?”
“That’s not the way I took it.”
“Of course not. Because you wanted him to be guilty, right?”
“No, I wanted to find out what happened.”
“Did you? Or did you want to confirm what you believed?”
“I didn’t believe anything.” Keenan didn’t believe him. Hopefully, the jury didn’t either.
“Let’s talk about your interviews with the students. How many Masterson students did you interview in the days after Shannon’s disappearance?”
“I don’t know. Lots.”
“What does ‘lots’ mean? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?”
“I’d have to go through my records. Definitely more than ten, probably at least twenty.”
“During your first round of interviews, how many of them reported witnessing an assault on the night Shannon disappeared?”
“None.”
“How many of them reported seeing any sort of altercation?”
“None.”
Barry paused and crossed out some items on his notepad before he continued. “Do the AT&T records show missed calls?”
“I don’t believe so. We didn’t request them soon enough to have the data preserved.”
“So, if Keenan had tried to call Shannon on the day after he last saw her, those calls wouldn’t show up, right?”
“That sounds right.”
“Same for texts, true?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I have.” Barry turned and walked toward the counsel table.
Fred rose for re-direct.
“Of those twenty or so students that you interviewed in the days after Shannon’s disappearance, how many were at the party on Maple Street?”
“I believe only two. Greta Paraiso and Jenna Davidson.”
“So the students that you interviewed wouldn’t have been able to witness the assault because they weren’t there, right?”
“That’s right. I didn’t start interviewing the people from the party until later in the investigation.” Dustin looked toward Barry, his expression smug.
“Why was that?”
“The students had all gone away for the winter break. I did what I could over the phone, but I wasn’t able to do all the interviews I wanted until the students started coming back to campus.”
“And once you did, did you find any other witnesses to the assault?”
“Yes, I found one. Heather Turner.”
During lunch, Keenan and his family met with Barry in a small conference room.
“That officer was a good witness for them,” his dad said.
“And those girls yesterday sounded so convincing,” his mom said. Keenan didn’t like the way she said it. He wondered if his own mother was doubting his innocence.
“That’s okay,” Barry said. “We warned the jury that they would. And police officers always come across well. They have a lot of experience testifying. At this point in a trial, it always feels like the other side is going to win. It will feel better when we have a chance to present our evidence.”
Barry’s phone chirped, and he glanced at what appeared to be a text message.
“I need to go check in with my secretary. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Save me a sandwich.” Barry smiled, but it looked fake to Keenan. He wondered if his lawyer was giving up hope despite the pep talk. That would be a bad sign.
Barry was back right before it was time to go back to court. He wolfed down half a sandwich before ushering the family into the courtroom.
“Is everything okay?” Keenan said.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.” Keenan wasn’t convinced.
Chapter 56
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
FRED WASN’T sure how many more witnesses he should try to squeeze into the second day. He wanted the jury to go home feeling like the evidence was strongly in favor of conviction. On the other hand, he didn’t want them to be so exhausted that they stopped paying attention. Ultimately, it would be up to the judge when to take a break for the day, but Fred could control the pace of the remaining witnesses. He figured three more witnesses would make for a good second day.
Fred called Evan Halliday. As he made his way to the stand, Fred noticed that Halliday’s tailored suit was clearly more expensive than Fred’s.
Halliday was sworn and gave a description of his experience, which included twenty years in the FBI, first in Los Angeles, then in New York. He explained that the Dawsons had hired him. Fred wished all the law enforcement witnesses would come across as comfortable and confident on the witness stand. Fred had Halliday highlight his extensive training in domestic violence.
“Did you meet with the defendant during the course of your investigation?”
“I did. On January 3, 2014.”
“Did he make any admissions to you during that conversation?”
“Objection.”
“The witness may answer in accordance with the court’s previous ruling.”
“He did. First off, he admitted he had gone to the party on Maple Street specifically to look for Shannon.”
“What was the significance of that?”
“My understanding is that he had previously told Officer Shores––
“––Objection. Hearsay.” Barry rose after the words were out.
“Sustained,” the judge sai
d.
“What else did he admit to you?”
“He told me he knew that he liked Shannon more than she liked him. He basically admitted he was insecure about his relationship with her.”
“What was the significance of that for you?”
“Objection. Speculation,” Barry said.
“Overruled. I’ll allow it,” the judge said.
“Insecurity and jealousy. As an investigator, those are red flags for domestic violence.”
“Did you record your conversation with Keenan Brody that day?”
“I did,” Evan said.
“Thank you. That’s all,” Fred said.
As expected, Barry’s cross-examination was brief.
“My client cooperated with you, didn’t he?” Barry said.
“Yes.”
“He willingly answered all your questions?”
“Yes.”
“He never said anything about physically harming Shannon, did he?”
“No.”
Next, Fred called Officer Steve Maroney. He went through Maroney’s qualifications. Maroney had been with MFPD for fifteen years and had gone to numerous trainings on forensics.
“What was your involvement in the investigation into the disappearance of Shannon Dawson?”
“I processed her car.”
“What did processing involve?”
“I lifted fingerprints and collected hair and fiber samples from the interior and the trunk.”
“How did you lift the prints?”
“I used a fine brush and aluminum power, then transferred the prints to fingerprint tape.”
“How many sets of prints did you lift from the driver’s side of Shannon’s car?” Fred said.
“I was able to lift prints from five different individuals, but most of the prints were from the deceased.”
“And how did you process the prints?”
“I scanned them into the computer and ran them against the FBI database.”
“Did you find a match?”
“Not at first. We didn’t get a match until we ran them against the prints we got from the defendant.”
“Where were the defendant’s prints inside the vehicle?”
“There were some on the passenger door and others on the driver’s side dashboard, including the headlight switch.”
“Did you recover anything else from the car?”
“Yes. We recovered several strands of blond hair from the trunk of the vehicle.”
“I’m going to show you State’s Exhibit 5. What is that?”
“It’s a photograph of the trunk.”
“Who took it?”
“I did.”
“What does it show?”
“The hairs I recovered.”
“What did you do with those hairs?”
“I submitted them to the Vermont Forensic Laboratory.”
“Thank you, officer. That’s all I have.”
Barry rose. “Good afternoon, officer.”
“Good afternoon.”
“Did you find any blood anywhere in Shannon Dawson’s car?”
“No, we did not.”
“I’m going to show you what’s marked as Defense Exhibit E. What is it?”
“It’s a photograph.”
“Did you take it?”
“I did.”
“At about the same time as the photograph Mr. Dutton just showed you?”
“That’s correct.”
“What does it show?”
“It shows the passenger compartment of the Volkswagen when we first opened it.”
“What was in there?”
“A beach towel and a water bottle.”
“Did you examine the beach towel?”
“I did.”
“Did you find any blood on the beach towel?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you find any hairs on the towel?”
Steve sat up straighter in his chair. “Yes, there were a few,” he said.
“Isn’t it possible that the hairs in the trunk of the car came from the beach towel?”
“Anything’s possible.” Maroney’s voice dripped with derision.
“Are you familiar with Locard’s Exchange Principle?”
“Yes.”
“Can you explain it to the jury?”
“Basically, every contact between objects leaves a trace.”
“Okay, so according to that principle, it’s possible that, if Shannon had used the towel to dry off after swimming or working out, her hair could have been left on the towel, correct?”
“Well, yes.”
“And, if the towel was placed in the trunk, the towel would have left a trace, right?”
“Yes.”
“And that trace could have been the hair you found in the trunk?”
“But––“
“Yes or no, officer.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I have. Thank you.”
Fred decided to take the time to counter with the obvious argument. “Where were the hairs located in relation to the towel?”
“The towel was on the floor of the passenger compartment.”
“Not in the trunk?”
“No.”
“How much distance was there between the hairs and the towel?”
“At least three feet and the back seat.”
“Under those circumstances, was an exchange likely?”
“No, sir.”
It was almost three thirty. His timing was good. He wanted to get in one more witness.
Karina Messinger from the Vermont Forensics Laboratory was eminently qualified and it took fifteen minutes to give the short version of her education, employment, and training history. Barry didn’t object to her qualification as an expert.
“Did you do any analysis of the hair found in the trunk of Shannon Dawson’s car?”
“I did.”
“What did you do?”
“I did a mitochondrial DNA comparison with a blood sample obtained from the medical examiner.”
“What did that comparison tell you?”
“That the hair in the trunk came from either Shannon Dawson or one of her maternal blood relatives.”
“Did you do any other analysis?”
“I also did a microscope comparison of the hair from the trunk and hair samples obtained from Shannon Dawson’s body.”
“And how did they compare?”
“They were consistent in length, diameter and pigmentation.”
“Thank you.”
Barry’s cross-examination was brief. “How many hairs per day does the average person lose?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that it’s between fifty and one hundred?”
“Objection,” Fred bellowed. “Defense counsel is testifying. The witness said she didn’t know.”
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the question.”
Barry thanked the witness, and as hoped and expected, court adjourned for the day. Fred felt pretty good about the day’s testimony. Hopefully, the jury was left with the mental image of Shannon Dawson’s body in the trunk of her car.
Chapter 57
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
BARRY SAT at the counsel table on Wednesday morning and tried to focus on Keenan’s trial, but his head throbbed from sleep deprivation. Unfortunately, thanks to Sam, he hadn’t been able to do all the prep work he had planned for the night before. And he’d been distracted during the previous afternoon’s testimony. He hoped he hadn’t made any critical mistakes. Why did Sam have such bad timing?
Marcy’s text at lunchtime the day before had caught him off guard.
“Sam’s out of control,” Marcy had said when he had called her back.
“Where is he?”
“In the emergency room.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No, the police brought him there when he wouldn’t leave Mr. K’s Place.”
�
�Is he under arrest?”
“No, he’s on a temporary psych hold. They wouldn’t tell me much, but it sounds like he’s refusing medication.”
“Shit. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have contacted you if I knew what to do.”
“I know. I know. Can you try to get him a bed at Brattleboro Retreat? Or another program?”
“I can try. Are you sure you don’t want to go talk to him first? Maybe you can get him to calm down, take his meds.”
“I can’t babysit him this week. Besides, there’s no way the judge would grant a continuance in this trial.”
“You know better than I do. It’s just that he’s your son and he needs you.”
“Do you have any idea what triggered him?”
“You live with him. Have you seen signs he’s been drinking or smoking marijuana? Has he been taking his meds?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since last week. I’ve been busy. I thought maybe he met a girl or something. He hasn’t been around.”
Fortunately, by the time Barry finished court that day, Marcy had finagled a bed at Brattleboro Retreat, a private mental health facility. When Barry arrived at the emergency room, the sheriffs had already left to transport Sam to Brattleboro. Barry knew that Sam was probably pissed at him. On some level he didn’t blame him. He probably should have tried to get a continuance. He went home to pack a bag for Sam. He opened the drawers to the dresser, but none of the clothes looked familiar. He took the ones on top figuring they were the ones Sam had worn most recently. He found Sam’s meds in the medicine cabinet. He considered counting the pills and calculating based on the refill date, but realized it was moot. He threw the pills in the bag along with some shampoo and toothpaste.
When he was done, he looked around Sam’s room. Barry hadn’t spent much time there in a long time. He sat on the bed and noticed a book with a bookmark on the night table. It was one of Barry’s favorites, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Sam must have borrowed it from his bookshelf. He unzipped the duffle bag and shoved it on top.
Barry didn’t even want to think about how much a week at Brattleboro was going to cost him. At least he knew Sam was safe and he could focus on the trial.