by Parnell Hall
“But the test did indicate a trace of cocaine?”
“Possibly. It could also have been a false positive. The only significance of the test would be to indicate that at a future time, it might be wise to test again.” Stanton smiled. “In the present case, that is not applicable.”
“Be that as it may, doctor, no matter how hard you try to minimalize this finding, the fact is this test revealed a trace residue of cocaine.”
“Which could not in any way have contributed to the cause of death,” Dr. Stanton said. “I want to make that perfectly clear. When I stated I found no contributing causes of death, that was entirely accurate. There are no contributing causes of death, no matter how much you may want to make out of this one particular test.”
“I’m not trying to make anything out of it, doctor, other than to bring out the fact it exists. Now then was there anything else revealed by your autopsy that you failed to tell us about?”
Dr. Stanton’s eyes narrowed. “I did not fail to tell you about it,” he snapped. “I was asked for the cause of death. I’ve given you the cause of death, and everything significant relating to the cause of death. I have not given you every extraneous and unrelated matter that had nothing to do with the cause of death. My autopsy also revealed the man suffered from hemorrhoids. Would you like to take me to task for failing to mention that?”
Judge Wylie banged the gavel. “That will do. Doctor, I can understand the provocation, but please try to avoid sparring with counsel.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
“Proceed.”
Steve Winslow held up the plastic bag. “Now then, doctor, getting back to this bullet. The one you told us about. The one that is the sole and sufficient cause of death. The one that this trace residue of cocaine was not a contributing factor to.”
“Objection, Your Honor.”
“Sustained. Mr. Winslow, if you could likewise avoid baiting the witness?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Dr. Stanton, regarding this bullet—is it then your testimony that this bullet is the sole and sufficient cause of death of the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”
“Yes, it is.”
“This particular bullet?”
“Yes. If that’s Exhibit One,” Stanton said, “that’s the bullet.”
“Oh, it’s Exhibit One,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t switch bullets on you, doctor. Here. See for yourself.”
He handed Dr. Stanton the plastic bag. Stanton took it, looked at it, started to hand it back.
“No, hang on to it for a minute, doctor,” Steve said. “I’d like to ask you some questions about the bullet. To begin with, tell us again how you recognize it as the bullet you took from the body of the decedent?”
“As I said, I scratched my initials on the base.”
“And your initials are?”
“A.S. For Andrew Stanton.”
“I see. And can you find your initials on the base of the bullet now?”
“Yes, of course. They’re right here.”
“The court reporter will please note that he is indicating the flat part of the bullet on which he scratched the initials A and S.”
Steve left the doctor holding the plastic bag, stepped back and said, “And that is how you identify this as the bullet you recovered from the body of Frank Fletcher?”
“That’s right.”
“Tell me, doctor. What caliber is that bullet?”
Stanton smiled. “I’m not a ballistics expert.”
“You’re telling me you don’t know?”
“Only by hearsay.”
“You’ve been told the caliber of the bullet?”
“That is correct.”
“You can’t tell yourself?”
“I can make a good guess. But I’m not up here to testify to guesswork.”
“So when you identify this bullet as the one you took from the body of the decedent, you’re not going by the caliber, are you?”
“No, I’m not. As I said, I marked the bullet.”
“You marked it A.S.?”
“That’s right.”
“Because those are your initials?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor, you stated that you’ve been a medical examiner for twelve years?”
“That’s right.”
“Tell me. Is this the first fatal bullet you’ve ever recovered?”
“No, of course not.”
“How many fatal bullets have you recovered in your career?”
“I really couldn’t say.”
“Would it be hundreds?”
“Perhaps a hundred. Perhaps more. I’ve never counted, but I’ve certainly seen my share of bullets.”
“Fatal bullets?”
“Yes, fatal bullets.”
“We’re talking about fatal bullets that you recovered during the course of an autopsy?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Are you saying that you’ve recovered as many as a hundred fatal bullets during the course of your autopsies?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Did you mark them, doctor?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The fatal bullets you recovered—did you mark them?”
“Yes, of course.”
“How did you mark them?”
“With my initials.”
“And your initials are A.S.?”
“That’s right.”
“And always have been A.S.? You haven’t changed your name, have you doctor?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“You say you have marked fatal bullets with your initials. Have those initials always been A.S.?”
“Yes, of course.”
“To the best of your recollection, you have marked every fatal bullet you ever recovered?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“You have recovered by your own estimation perhaps a hundred fatal bullets?”
“Yes.”
“Well, doctor, what is there about the bullet in your hand, the bullet marked for identification as People’s Exhibit One, the bullet you have marked with your initials A.S., that enables you to distinguish it from any of the other fatal bullets you have recovered in your career, which you testified that you also marked A.S.?”
Dr. Stanton opened his mouth to say something. Closed it again.
“Can you answer that, doctor?”
“Objection. Badgering the witness,” Dirkson said.
“Overruled.”
“You want to answer that, doctor?” Steve said.
Stanton took a breath. “I can only say the question has no relevance. There is only one bullet involved in this particular case. There is no other bullet for it to be confused with.”
“Then why mark it at all?”
“To show it was the bullet that was recovered in my autopsy.”
“But if I understand your testimony correctly, all that it shows is that it is one of the bullets that you recovered in one of your many autopsies.”
“Nonsense,” Stanton said. “That’s the bullet that I took from the body of the decedent, Frank Fletcher.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know anything?” Dr. Stanton said angrily. “I removed the bullet myself. I marked it. I delivered it to the police.”
“Exactly,” Steve said. “You let the bullet out of your custody. What is there about the bullet you hold in your hand that indicates it is the same bullet that you marked and delivered to the police?”
“I would think my initials should be sufficient.”
“Then let me ask you this, doctor. If I were to introduce ballistics evidence that the bullet that you hold in your hand had been fired by a gun that was proved to have killed a man on whom you had performed an autopsy last year, is there anything in your testimony or would you have any way whatsoever to prove that this was not the bullet that you recovered in that autopsy?”
“Objection. Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”
&nbs
p; “It is a hypothetical question only, Your Honor, for the purpose of impeachment.”
“It is an impeaching question. The objection is overruled.”
“Would you have any way of proving this was not that bullet, doctor?”
Stanton took a breath. “No, I would not.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Steve Winslow turned to Judge Wylie. “Your Honor, at this time I would like to move that the doctor’s testimony regarding the bullet, People’s Exhibit One, being the fatal bullet, be stricken from the record and the jurors instructed to disregard it.”
Dirkson was immediately on his feet, but Judge Wylie cut him off. “I will not hear arguments at the present time. Let’s take a brief recess. Show the jury out. We can reconvene and discuss this motion. Jurors are advised not to talk among themselves. Court stands in recess for half an hour.
33.
“NICE WORK,” MARK TAYLOR said. “You got ’em on the run.”
“Yeah,” Tracy said. “What you did with the doctor was great.”
“Yeah, but what’s it prove?” Steve said. “That’s the fatal bullet and everybody knows it.”
“You think the judge will strike the testimony?” Taylor said.
“Not a prayer.”
“Then why bother?”
“Are you kidding?” Tracy said. “The jury ate it up. Who cares what it proves?”
“You got anything, Mark?” Steve said. “The cross-examination may look good, but I happen to be firing blanks.”
“What I got ain’t good,” Taylor said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Dirkson’s trying to prove a relationship, right? Between her and the stiff? There’s witnesses they went out together. To some of these trendy clubs. They’ll testify they were pretty close.”
“We knew that, Mark. What about drugs?”
“What about ’em?”
“The doctor gave me a kick in the chops, with the test positive for cocaine. I bore down on him like I caught him trying to snatch the royal jewels, but at the same time I’m kicking myself in the head.”
“Why?”
“What you just said. The cops can link Amy Dearborn and Frank Fletcher, prove they were running around these trendy clubs. Now throw in cocaine. Throw in the idea Amy was fired for pilfering petty cash, and the fact money was taken in this case, and you start to paint a picture in the mind of the jurors.”
“Oh, shit,” Taylor said.
“So, you’re right. Your info’s a kick in the head. You got anything else?”
“No. I’m working on Macklin, but he’s a tough nut to crack. I can’t go at him directly, and the guy has few friends. All I’m getting is gossip.”
“Nothing wrong with gossip. What’s the word?”
“Man likes to play the ponies.”
“Oh?”
“Goes to the track whenever he can, and when he can’t, OTB.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what it’s worth. But with a compulsive gambler it’s sort of like drugs. When there’s a case where there’s money missing, it’s worthy of note.”
“It certainly is.”
“Only problem,” Taylor said, “is the info I get is the guy usually wins.”
“Uh huh,” Steve said. “What about Lowery?”
“Even worse,” Taylor said. “Respectable family man. Quiet home life. Only vices appear to be fishing and golf.”
“Hard to smear a man with that,” Steve said. “Okay, keep digging. The man must have some faults.”
“Fine,” Taylor said, without enthusiasm. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. The boyfriend. Larry Cunningham.”
“What about him?”
“Frankly, I wish he’d get hit by a truck. The guy’s so eager to give her an alibi, his story isn’t worth shit. Worse than that, he’ll prejudice the jury against her, because he’s so clearly lying.”
“I’ll buy that,” Taylor said. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
“Check him out. Bad as he is, see if he’s worse. Anything about him the prosecution’s going to hit me with, I want to know about it before they do. Get his story up and down and get it nailed. Check with the guy he had the meeting with. Find out when he got there. Check with the waiters in the restaurant, find out when he left. Give me enough to show this guy what he’s up against before he gets on the stand and says something he can’t prove. Or rather, something Dirkson can disprove. Anyway, run a check on him and find out what makes him tick.
“While you’re at it, check out Oliver Branstein.”
“Who?”
“The guy from the music store.”
“Why?” Taylor said. “We know the story on him. He’s a highly uncredible witness. Dirkson’s gonna try to build him up. We know that for sure, ’cause the guy’s in his hip pocket and won’t give us the time of day. There’s nothing much I can do.”
“I know, Mark. But check the guy out.”
“Why?”
“Let’s not overlook the obvious. The guy runs the music store downstairs. He and Frank Fletcher were neighbors. How well did they know each other? Did they get along?”
Mark Taylor’s eyes widened. “You mean check him out as a suspect?”
“Just check him out, Mark. If he knew Fletcher, I want to know.”
34.
WHEN COURT RECONVENED, JUDGE Wylie said, “With regard to the defense counsel’s motion—upon reviewing the testimony I find no further arguments are necessary. I find the objection goes to the weight of the testimony rather than to its admissibility. The motion to strike is therefore denied.”
“However,” Judge Wylie continued, turning to Dirkson, “I would suggest the prosecution make some effort to establish the chain of custody before offering the exhibit into evidence.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Return the witness to the stand and bring in the jury.”
When the jurors had been brought in and seated, Judge Wylie said, “When we left off, Dr. Stanton was on the stand and Mr. Winslow was in the middle of his cross-examination. The motion to strike portions of the testimony has been denied. The doctor’s testimony will stand. Mr. Winslow, you may resume your cross-examination.”
“I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
“Any redirect, Mr. Dirkson?”
“None, Your Honor.”
“Very well. The witness is excused.”
“Call Sergeant Stams.”
Stams took the stand, testified to responding to a reported homicide at F. L. Jewelry on West 47th Street.
“And what did you find when you got there?”
“The defendant, Amy Dearborn, was already in the office.”
“She met you at the door?”
“That’s right.”
“Can you tell us what happened then?”
“Yes. I asked her if she was the one who reported the homicide. She said she was. I asked her where the body was, and she showed me.”
“And where was that?”
“An inner office, which I understand was the office of the deceased.”
“And where was the body when she showed it to you?”
“Lying face down on the floor.”
“I see. And what did you do then?”
“I instructed the crime scene unit to process the office and notify the medical examiner. Then I questioned the defendant.”
“Where did you conduct this questioning?”
“In another inner office, which I understand was the office of the other partner, Marvin Lowery.”
“You took the defendant there to question her?”
“That’s right.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to get her away from the body. So it wouldn’t upset her and distract her. And to get her out of the way of the crime scene unit.”
“You chose this office because it was out of the way?”
“That’s right.”
“When you questioned the defend
ant, what did she tell you?”
“She said she was a former employee. That she’d been employed at the office up until a month ago, when she’d been fired for stealing. That she’d been tried for the crime and acquitted. That she had therefore come to the office that evening to clean out her desk.”
“Did she tell you how she intended to get in?”
“Yes. She said she had a key from when she had previously worked there.”
“She retained this key when she fired?”
“That’s right.”
“Did she show you this key?”
“Yes, she did.”
Dirkson took another plastic bag from the prosecution table. “I ask that this be marked for identification as People’s Exhibit Two.” When that had been done, Dirkson handed it to the witness, said, “Sergeant, I hand you a plastic evidence bag marked for identification as People’s Exhibit Two, and ask you if you recognize it.”
“Yes, I do. It is a plastic bag containing the key I referred to. The one the defendant showed me at that time.”
“How do you recognize it?”
“I have written my name on the bag. As well as the date, and a description of the contents.”
“The bag is sealed?”
“That is correct.”
“You say this is the key the defendant showed you at that time?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Did you do anything to verify this is indeed the key to the office?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I tried it myself.”
“It opened the outer door?”
“Yes, it did.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Dirkson said. He took the plastic bag, returned it to the court reporter’s desk.
“Now then, Sergeant. Going back to your interrogation of the defendant on the night in question—”
“Objection to the word interrogation. As I understand it, the police were there at Miss Dearborn’s request.”
“Sustained. Rephrase the question.”
“Going back to the time you questioned the defendant at the scene of the crime—I believe you stated she intended to get into the office with her key, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Did she in fact use a key to get in?”
“She says she didn’t. According to her, she arrived and found the door open.”