by Hugo Navikov
The defense’s problem was that they couldn’t get anyone who had been on the expedition to actually testify that they had seen Sean Muir sabotaging the cable. In fact, the defense called on Vanessa Jones and Toro del Toro, members of the “winch crew” on the ill-fated mission, who swore under oath that not only did they not see Sean Muir doing anything with the cable, but they didn’t even know how such a thing could be done. The sabotage—if sabotage it was—affected a section of cable that was almost 3,000 feet up the cable and thus under half a ton of iron-anchored tether wound above it. There was no way to get to it without unspooling such a huge length of cable right there on the deck. The noise of the winch would have alerted whoever was on watch, and that was if the sailor on duty hadn’t already seen the lights such a job would require or simply somebody skulking around the deck. Sean’s attorney, hired by the university and good at his job, ended his questioning of Vanessa and Toro with a statement put as a question: “So, in your opinion as not only a veteran sailor and member of multiple deep-sea expeditions but also as a member of the ‘winch crew’ who knew that equipment inside and out, is it literally impossible for anyone to have altered that cable during the entire trip?”
And both of them answered with the same words: “Yes, sir, it is impossible.”
For anyone familiar with the disaster of that day—and the legal teams on both sides were familiar, indeed—the absence of the third member of the winch crew, Phillip ‘Slipjack’ McCracken, in the list of witnesses called by the defense was glaring.
Slipjack certainly was on the list of prosecution witnesses, and the State called Phil McCracken right after cross-examining Vanessa and Toro, who couldn’t be tripped up or made to contradict themselves in any way. This was either a sign of telling the truth or of expert coaching. It didn’t matter to the prosecutors, anyway, because they had Slipjack, who would destroy his mates’ hour of testimony in less time than it took to haul in a flatboat-full of bottom-dwelling catfish. “Your Honor, we call veteran sailor and third member of the winch crew working on the Muir boat the day of the alleged murder.”
Slipjack was put under oath and sat on the witness stand. His hair, already greasy, was slicked back, and his suit hung on his taut frame like he had borrowed it from an uncle. His teeth looked like they had been brushed under duress. As uncomfortable as his being make to look presentable seemed to render him, however, every word he uttered was smooth and confident. Not once did the prosecution refer to Slipjack by his nickname.
“Mister McCracken, can you tell the court your opinion of Doctor Sean Muir, the respected scientist and groundbreaking marine-biology theorist who was in charge of the Sea Legs expedition?”
“Yes, sir,” Slipjack said. “He was one of the most capable captains I ever seen—saw. I mean, he wasn’t the actual sailing captain, but he had a handle on every, um … oh, yeah, aspect of the entire expedition.”
“He and his wife, the late Katherine Muir, were involved at every stage of the planning and execution of the mission, including the construction of all specialized equipment?”
Slipjack cleared his throat and took a sip of the water provided for witnesses, seeming choked up at the mention of Kat’s name. “Well, they both are brilliant—I mean, she was as brilliant as her husband before she got murdered—”
The judge admonished him and told him not to use that speculative word, as the court was to decide if her death was due to murder.
“Right, Your Honor. Sorry, Your Honor.”
“Please continue your testimony, but I ask that you do take care.”
“Thank you, Your Honor, I will. Kat—everybody called her ‘Kat’—was brilliant, but her end of the planning and such was mostly on how it could be done, what the testing parameters and suchlike would be, and in designing the submersible. They worked on it together, you know, but she was more on the theoretical and design part. The actual building and such was more Doctor Muir’s job. He oversaw every step of the construction of the equipment to be used onboard the ship. A man named Mickey Luch worked with him to get the support boat, she was called The Moaning Mermaid, and Sea Legs exactly as Doctor Muir—he had everybody call him ‘Doctor Muir’—”
The defense attorney stood and said, “Objection, Your Honor! We have heard from several other crew members who referred to him as ‘Sean’ here and, one would assume, during the expedition.”
“I’m going to chalk that up to human memory, counsel. Objection overruled.” But he didn’t ignore the objection. “Mister McCracken, you will stick to telling us what you saw and what you know, if you please.”
“Oh, right, yes, Your Honor.” Slipjack cleared his throat and took another sip of water. “He had me call him ‘Doctor Muir,’ as I recall, you know. But what I’m saying is that Kat was mostly on the design phase, and Doctor Muir worked on that as well as overseeing all the actual physical stuff.”
The prosecutor continued, “And this ‘physical stuff’—does that include the cable used to lower and raise the submersible that both Doctors Muir designed together? No matter—the cable was what it was—but Kat and Doctor Muir decided what functions that cable had to have, correct? Fiber optics for audio and video and also data lines to transmit the mountain of other information needed on a scientific mission. Is that accurate?”
“Yes, sir. Like most of the other equipment used on the trip, Kat and Doctor Muir designed it together, and then he implemented and oversaw the building of the equipment. Definitely that included that cable, which needed to be about 22,250 feet long—the 20,000 feet the main dive was going to be plus enough extra in case D-Plus drifted a bit because of currents and such down there at the bottom. I know the cable was built by Doctor Muir, ’cause by that time Vanessa and Toro and me had been hired on, and we assisted him, since the cable deployment was gonna be our main job.”
“That was very clear, Mister McCracken, thank you. How was the cable protected from the stress that would be put upon it?”
“Sir, it was what we called ‘armored’ with an inner wrap of nylon—”
“Nylon?” the prosecutor asked, trying to sound surprised even though he never asked a question of a witness to which he didn’t already know the answer.
“Aye—ha, excuse me—Yes, sir. Nylon is stronger than steel in this kind of application, and heck of a lot less heavy. But yeah, that was the interior protective sheath, and on the outside was iron cord wrapped tight by machines Doctor Muir adapted for our cable.”
“Could you tell the court the difference between ‘cord’ and ‘cable’?”
“They’re pretty much the same thing, except cable’s usually stronger and thicker. But it’s still cord. You couldn’t have anything inside cord, I think. That would make it what seahands call ‘cable.’”
“Thank you for that, Mister McCracken. This special cable machine, designed and implemented by Doctor Sean Muir, where was it? Where was this cable made?”
“Oh, in an industrial space rented by Doctor Muir.”
“Rented by Doctor Muir, or by the university departments whose resources were involved in the expedition?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry—I believe it was rented by the college. I’m just a seadog,” Slipjack said with a smile. “They don’t tell me the financial details. But, you know, those research vessels aren’t that big, and you hear things.”
“Of course. But Doctor Muir had the keys to the car, so to speak. The university had invested all its trust and authority in Doctor Muir.”
“Yeah, you could put it like that. Nobody was in there unless Doctor Muir let him in. He was the first one in and the last one out every day.”
“Was the facility under guard twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?”
“Um, as I remember, that didn’t start until construction began on the actual D-Plus sub, when all its parts from the suppliers and factories and such were delivered to the, what you said, the facility. But up ’til then, nobody was really worried anyone was going to break in and steal cab
le and fiber optics or whatever.”
“But Sean Muir stayed there overnight sometimes.”
“Yeah, but that’s true of most leaders of expeditions. They think of shit—sorry, Your Honor—they think of stuff at all hours and don’t want to be too far from the hardware, you know?”
“Indeed. Now, the court just heard from your colleagues how it was supposed to be literally—and this is ‘literally’ in the original sense, meaning ‘absolutely true’—impossible for that cable to be tampered with on a ship during an expedition.”
“I agree with that.”
“But it’s possible that the cable could be sabotaged—”
The defense attorney stood and barely said “Objection!” before the judge shut him down with an upheld palm and said, “Sustained. Counsel, please refrain from speculation. It has not been established that any ‘sabotage’ was committed in this situation. You may continue.”
“I apologize for that, Your Honor.” He turned to Slipjack and reframed his question: “Do you agree that if any kind of tampering with any equipment occurred, including with the cable and its constituent contents, it would have had to take place before the enormous spool was transported to the ship and installed?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’ve worked with Vanessa on several expeditions, and she knows the procedures regarding the cables and winches and such as good as I do. I agree with her a hundred percent that, even if it was possible to unravel that much cable, it couldn’t be done without the whole crew on the boat hearing it. Not just the guy on watch—everybody woulda heard it and lots of us woulda come up to check out what was going on. Messing with it on a fully crewed ship would be impossible, and if you don’t mind my putting this in, it wouldn’t be possible even to get to where that, um, problem was at under all the other cable on the spool.”
“No, that’s fine, Mister McCracken. Thank you for sharing that with the court. If I may, Your Honor, I’d like to summarize the points made by the witness—”
“You know very well that you cannot, counsel. You can do that in your closing argument, which, I will remind the jury, is never to be considered evidence. All right?” He waited for each juror to acknowledge this before telling the defense counsel in words, “You may continue,” but his expression advised, You’re pushing it, and you’d better stop right now.
Defense counsel’s words were “Thank you, Your Honor,” but he realized from the judge’s tone and expression that he was overplaying his hand, and since he was already holding two aces, there was no need to trip over his own two feet. “Okay, just a bit more, Mister McCracken. Would you consider yourself an expert on deep-sea tether cables?”
“I’ve worked with them on ten trips and helped in their … dang … Oh! In their manufacture when elements like data lines and such have been run inside the twisting metal exterior. I’ve helped with that on all of those missions that used them. So I don’t know if I’m an expert, but I can lead you through the whole process right now without even closing my eyes to think.”
“Thank you, but I don’t believe that’s necessary.”
“Just saying.”
“Certainly. As an expert, in your opinion could such a flaw as that which caused the loss of the submersible and Katherine Muir be introduced at some point in its manufacture? And, following up on that, could it be done in such a way that no one would notice until it was unspooled during a dive?”
“Objection! Your Honor, he’s calling for speculation.”
The judge looked at the prosecutor once again, but his expression was neutral this time. He asked, “Counsel, are you asking a hypothetical question, or are you asking if that happened with the voyage in question?”
The prosecutor hesitated a moment, then said, “A hypothetical question, Your Honor.”
“I hope so. Objection overruled.”
“Mister McCracken, let me make it clear to you that I’m asking if this is a physical possibility. I mean, it is an iron sheath that can take the abuse, corrosion, and strain placed upon it in highly volatile circumstances. I’m not asking if you conjecture that this is what happened on the expedition led by Kat and Sean Muir. I’m asking you, on a material level, whether you, as someone who has years of experience with these matters, think such a cable can be compromised? Tampered with in a way that no one would notice until it was in use?”
“Yeah. Yes.”
“I see. Thank you,” the prosecutor said, glancing at the judge, who seemed content enough to let him continue: “Knowing the procedure as you do, is there a time during the manufacturing process of thousands of feet of this cable that a single person could interfere with its structural integrity?”
“Yeah, there—yes, there are a lot of such times. It just has to be before the iron is wrapped around it and left to set. Once the iron has cooled down, you’re not cutting through that or breaking it or such.”
“Are you trying to tell us that this is what happened to cause the tragedy on Sea Legs?”
“No, I am not. I’m just talking about cable in general of this specific kind.”
“Very good.” The prosecutor stepped close to the witness stand, but in such a position that the jury’s view of Slipjack was unhindered. The sailor looked the part of an expert mariner, someone more comfortable on water than on land; that was why they had dressed him in a too-big suit in the first place. “This will be my final couple of questions, all right, Mister McCracken?”
“Thank God … ness. Goodness. Thank goodness.” A couple of chuckles could be heard in the gallery.
The prosecutor also smiled and rattled off the final questions, with Slipjack answering them thoughtfully and carefully so as not to rouse the ire of the judge.
“Mister McCracken, were there any periods of more than, say, an hour when you know Doctor Sean Muir was alone in the facility where the cable was made?”
“Yes. He slept there sometimes, like I said.”
“To your knowledge, did any of those times when you know Doctor Muir was alone in the facility occur during a period of the cable’s manufacture? Specifically, were any of those times before the application of the iron armoring you mentioned?”
“Yes. Many periods of those … periods. And such.”
“That iron armoring that, once left to cool and harden, would be well-nigh impossible to cut through or snap?”
“Yes.”
“To your knowledge, was Katherine—Kat, as she was affectionately known to all—ever alone in the facility during those times when the cable could have been damaged?”
“Alone? Naw, I mean, no. She’d really have no reason—”
“Don’t speculate, Mister McCracken. Just answer with what you know to be the case.”
Slipjack nodded and took another sip of his water. “No, she was not ever alone to my knowledge in the workshop.”
“Did Kat have access to the facility that would have allowed her to—”
“Counsel …” the judge growled.
“Sorry, Your Honor,” counsel replied, satisfied that the words of his question had been heard by the jury so they could fill in the rest of what was really being asked (which is exactly why the judge cut off such “Trojan horse” speculation put forth as a question). “Mister McCracken, do you know if Kat had access that would allow her to be in the workshop alone?”
“She did. She had the same kind of key her husband did.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw her use it. When she was looking for Doctor Muir inside the building. He was there alone a good bit, like I said.”
“There was no bell or buzzer or other signal that the door was being opened?”
“What, like at a hardware store to let ’em know a customer is there?”
“Yes, that sort of thing.”
“No. That is, I can tell you I know there wasn’t. During the day and sometimes pretty late, people were going in and out. Some of us smoke—I smoke—and so went out front for a cig. But there was also contractors and
parts people working on the materials for the sub itself. It was all in one industrial park kind of place. Bells and buzzers going off would have driven Doctor Muir and Kat and the rest of the people what needed to concentrate right up the wall.”
“All right. So, to your knowledge, there were at least two keys to the facility, the workshop where the cable was assembled?”
“That’s right.”
“Again, to your knowledge, were there any other copies of that key in circulation?”
The prosecutor paused to take a walk back to his team’s table and picked up a brass-colored, large key inside a clear plastic evidence bag. “If it may please the court, this is the key that was found to be in Doctor Sean Muir’s office when he was arrested.” He returned to his place next to the witness stand and asked Slipjack, “Do you know why Sean Muir would still have this key once the project was no longer using the manufacturing facility but before the incident that killed his wife?”
“Well, sir, the university kept the lease going on that place because there was still the equipment inside. If this mission was a success, from what I heard, there would be follow-up missions that would need to use that same equipment. So, instead of returning the huge machines—they were rented, too—the college kept the lease going on the warehouse and workshops and such.”
“Understood, but why would Doctor Muir still have it in his possession?”
“Counsel,” the judge warned.
“Excuse me, Your Honor. Mister McCracken, do you know of any purpose for which Sean Muir would have been keeping this key? No such key was found in Kat’s office or the Muir home during the investigation.”
“I don’t know what he’d need it for.”
“Did you know that Kat Muir’s key was reported missing to the security authority in charge of keeping track of keys to university-owned or -leased facilities?”