by Ann Rule
During the months I was traveling to Los Angeles and back regularly to consult on the blood evidence in the murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman, Penny and I were having landscaping work done around our house. Glancing out the window one afternoon after she got home from work, Penny was puzzled to notice that some of the workers seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time around our trash cans. When she spotted them there several days in a row, she stopped the manager of the crew and asked him what was going on. Did they need extra trash bags? A Dumpster, maybe?
He stared at her blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Englert,” he said. “My men haven’t been anywhere near your garbage cans.”
Penny and I were aghast to discover that the people sifting through the Hefty bags from under our kitchen sink were actually reporters. Somehow they had gotten wind of the fact that I was involved in “the trial of the century” and they were hoping to dig up some front-page dirt. I never knew what they were hoping to find. Crumpled faxes? Discarded notebooks? A pair of blood-covered shoes with “O.J.” stenciled inside?
Penny and I didn’t wait to find out. We moved our trash bins to a locked location inside our yard and resolved to tell any uninvited guests we found snooping through our garbage to clear off our property.
Around this same time, I went to Seattle to lecture at the American Academy of Forensic Sciences. I had finished my talk and was stuffing my notes back in my briefcase when a woman sidled up to me and whispered an astronomical sum of money in my ear.
“What?” I asked, assuming I had misunderstood her.
“That’s what my boss will pay you if we can get our hands on those bloody clothes,” she said with a conspiratorial grin.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked, looking for a name tag. All hers said was “Guest.”
As my blood pressure rose, she proudly rattled off her credentials. She explained that she represented one of the country’s best-known tabloid newspapers. Before joining it, she had made her bones writing for another gossip power house. Now she was hot on the trail of the O.J. case.
“It’s worth a lot of money to my editor if you can get your hands on that shirt,” she said.
“You must be out of your mind to think I would do a thing like that,” I hissed, working hard to maintain my composure. “How did you even get in here?”
“Think about it,” she said confidently.
Without another word, I turned my back on her and stalked off to complain to the conference organizers about their attendee-screening procedures.
In the years since then, I have run across that same reporter a number of times. These days, we are cordial when we see each other. I know that’s how she earns her living. And she knows I will never answer any questions she asks beyond where the restroom is located and what time the seminar ends.
Case Study: One Drop Is All It Takes
One murder that garnered little interest from national tabloid reporters but that sticks in my memory more than many higher-profile trials was the case of eighteen-year-old Mark Sells in Tipp City, Ohio. On January 5, 2003, Sells and two younger friends smoked a little pot and tossed back some vodka to steel their nerves, then headed for the home of sixty-five-year-old city activist Sharid Gantz.
Sells, who knew Gantz and had done yardwork for him, was armed with a baseball bat and keyed up for a robbery. He barged in while his fourteen-and seventeen-year-old pals waited outside to act as lookouts. Before long, the pair heard raised voices and peered through the window. Sells was in a sort of frenzy, bashing Gantz in the head over and over with the baseball bat, turning the room bright red, they would later testify. It took the shell-shocked youths only a few days to roll over on Sells and spill the details about what they had watched.
You could tell by the blood arcing over the wall that the batter had swung from right to left, and Sells was right-handed. But that was hardly enough to tie him to the murder. Even the testimony of two eyewitnesses might not be enough. Why? First, Sells had a charmingly sweet and childish face, which could predispose a jury to believe him innocent. Second, there was the issue of his clothing. It had been thoroughly examined and only one drop of the victim’s blood had been found on the collar of Sells’s red Windbreaker. Yet the murder scene was a horror show. Bits of skull, tissue, and brain matter had reached the ceiling. Prosecutor Gary Nasal knew that this would be no easy win. If he and his colleagues were struggling to believe a killer could walk away from a scene so bloody without his jacket and pants looking like a butcher’s apron at the end of a long shift, how would he convince a jury?
Gary asked me to visit the crime scene with him to see the house and the creek that ran behind it, where the bloody bat was thrown and later retrieved. We also examined the evidence together and scrutinized the photographs. He was hoping I would be able to provide an analysis of what it all meant and to explain why more blood hadn’t landed on Sells. By now, you know the answer: Because all the blood was projected forward, away from the attacker.
“Look at the victim’s legs below his waist,” I said, pointing to an image of the dead man’s bare white legs protruding helplessly from his bathrobe. He had been kneeling on the floor when he died. There were no traces of blood on the lower part of his body. “And look at this.” I pointed to dozens of pristine white sheets of typing paper strewn over the floor around the victim’s feet. They had obviously scattered during the murder, yet there was no blood on them. Nor was there blood on the floor. I combed over every inch of the clothing the police had collected from Sells many times, but there were no additional flecks of blood.
Gary asked me to testify to help the jury understand what happens to blood in a blunt-trauma attack involving multiple blows, so I set up a three-section panel of cardboard about three feet high in front of the jury. Then I poured stage blood onto a sheet of paper and positioned myself to strike it with a rolled-up newspaper in lieu of a bat. Gary stood on the other side of the cardboard display, pale and tense. I hadn’t given him a chance to watch the demonstration beforehand, and I knew he was expecting us both to be dripping in scarlet in a few seconds.
I smacked the “blood” and it spattered the cardboard dramatically but left Gary and me without a trace of red on our clothes. The jurors suddenly understood—and believed—that medium-velocity blood spatter really does travel forward because they saw it for themselves.
The two lookouts in the Sharid Gantz murder got plea agreements, thanks to their youth and their testimony. They admitted to guilt in juvenile charges including delinquency and complicity to aggravated burglary. Sells, however, was found guilty of aggravated murder and aggravated robbery. And a single droplet of blood made all the difference.
The Intimidation Factor
Unethical behavior isn’t the norm, but if you spend enough time in the world of criminal trials, you’re bound to run into it. So is unmerciful grilling on the witness stand. That makes many people who work in criminal justice dread giving testimony. Some of them don’t want to be there any more than the accused does. A number have been subpoenaed or ordered by their boss to show up. Others get so paralyzed with stage fright that they come across as bumbling novices even though they are widely respected authorities in their fields. Some take lawyers’ humiliating barbs and innuendos to heart and slink away devastated. I have seen seasoned professionals literally break down in tears on the stand. A few resent having to take time away from their “real” jobs to appear in court and, to show their resentment, don’t bother to prepare, which does a disservice to the jury and the court proceedings.
From my point of view, enduring a vicious attack from opposing counsel is a small price to pay to help jurors understand a crucial piece of the puzzle—a piece that will allow them to reach a more informed and accurate verdict. Whenever I give testimony, I believe absolutely that what I am saying is the truth. I do my best to stay calm and focused even when the other side is trying to rattle me. I state my findings with confidence, in simpl
e terms, and I never stretch the facts to reach a conclusion. Jurors are smart. If you stretch it, they know.
I also remember that I am there only to educate—never to advocate. I am not trying to get anyone convicted or exonerated. It is not my job to justify or excuse anyone’s actions.
So why do I continue to testify as an expert witness in homicide cases despite skepticism from jurors, ego battering from lawyers, and countless hours of grueling prep work? Why put myself through it?
Because in the end, it is worth it. And because ultimately it is my responsibility. Victims can no longer speak for themselves, but they leave a pure and candid account of their final, tragic moments written in their blood. If the people who can read that blood do not tell their stories, who will?
Afterword: A Glimpse of the Future
BLOOD PATTERN ANALYSIS HAS come a long way since those early years when I was studying puddles of cows’ blood on the floor of my barn and saving up vacation time to attend conferences. Gone are the days when lawyers asked judges to bar blood pattern analysts’ interpretation on the grounds that our expertise had no proven basis in science or fact. Over the past twenty-five years—thanks to the tireless work ethic and selfless dedication of researchers, detectives, criminalists, students, and many other talented people—blood spatter forensics has become an essential and respected element of law enforcement and criminal justice. I feel privileged to have played a small part in that development.
But science changes fast. The landscape today is entirely different from the one we saw a decade ago. DNA advances have revolutionized the way we look at blood and the information we can extract from each precious drop of it. It can identify the guilty, exonerate the innocent, speak for victims, and crack cases that would have been hopelessly unsolvable in an earlier era.
And the frontier of forensics is expanding at a remarkably exciting rate. As you read this, robotic processors at the FBI’s nuclear DNA lab are flying through hundreds of minuscule DNA samples, analyzing them thoroughly and effectively dozens of times faster than a human scientist could. At the same time, researchers are coaxing crucial new clues out of fingerprints, perfecting cutting-edge technology that can detect, isolate, and retrieve prints buried beneath other prints. They are also using miniaturized mass spectrometers to detect minute amounts of substances such as explosives, drugs, and biohazards like anthrax in the prints, which could provide the missing link that connects dangerous substances to those who spread them.
Computerized developments are under way that promise to refine bite-mark identification by amassing a data bank of dental characteristics like tooth width and spacing between teeth. Audio forensic systems are using GPS technology to help cops pinpoint when and where shots are fired almost as soon as the trigger is pulled. Laser facial reconstruction technology is allowing technicians to scan a skull and simultaneously render a three-dimensional image of its owner’s face with extraordinary detail on screen, bringing new hope to the daunting task of identifying victims’ remains.
Yet as fast as these breakthroughs appear, so do new challenges. As of the writing of this book, scientists in Israel had announced that they had discovered a way to fabricate DNA evidence in a lab, which could create huge problems for crime solvers. Experts were also grapp ling with the ramifications of a new generation of detergents on blood evidence collection. The cleaning products contain sodium carbonate peroxyhydrate, which produces oxygen bubbles that threaten to eliminate the telltale proteins in blood that have pointed a damning finger at killers in otherwise baffling crimes for years.
When it comes to the public’s obsession with forensics, those of us in the field face a double-edged sword. Criminals study crime shows and court proceedings, then invent new and sophisticated ways to circumvent the latest methods of detection, as the tragic murder of Nanette Toder in Illinois demonstrated. On the other hand, jurors become ever better informed and more demanding. That raises the bar for all of us providing information in the courtroom to help them reach an accurate and just verdict. America’s tremendous fascination with crime solving may also have been one of the catalysts behind an in-depth two-year review of forensic techniques in the United States by the National Academy of Sciences and an energetic new movement to push Congress to establish an independent governing body that would enforce standards, oversee education, and elevate quality in forensic practices nationwide.
What does all this mean to you? Crime costs the United States in excess of $450 billion a year, according to the most recent National Institute of Justice data available at press time. That’s more than half of the 2009 economic stimulus package. If you converted the amount into one-dollar bills, it would fill forty-four miles of train cars with money. You could stack them to the moon and back 168 times. Are all the efforts to advance detection and forensic capabilities worthwhile? You bet. But most of us do not appreciate how worthwhile they are until a member of our own family or someone else we love becomes a victim of violent crime. And as the heartbreaking story of every victim recounted in these pages shows, violent crime does not discriminate. It can happen to any of us anytime.
What lies ahead? Is there hope for a safer future? Speculation is a dangerous business when it comes to criminal analysis, so I won’t hazard a guess. But one thing is certain: As long as bad guys continue to shed blood, the field of blood spatter forensics will keep evolving and improving to help the good guys catch them.
Acknowledgments
THERE IS AN ANCIENT AFRICAN proverb that goes, “Umtu ngumtu ngabantu.” It translates roughly to, “A person is a person because of other people.” In other words, we derive our dignity and worth from one another. In my case, that is certainly true. Without the following people, this book would still be at the bottom of my bucket list.
First and foremost, I am grateful to my wife, Penny, who has devoted her time and energy to this project, patiently reading every page and sharing her thoughts, ideas, insights, and editing suggestions. Our children, Gary, Ron, Cherie, and Jeb, too, have given me valuable input, which helped me tremendously in shaping the book.
Sincere gratitude also goes to those without whose early encouragement and support Blood Secrets would never have grown from the kernel of an idea to the reality of a printed book. Many thanks go to Dayle Hinman, Vernon Geberth, Jim Cooney, and especially to Ann Rule, who not only walked me through contract information in the beginning, but shared her vast writing experience, explaining how true crime readers want to experience the “richness” of a book. Her support along the way was like filling my tank with superunleaded. I was always upbeat after conversations with her. Then came her fore-word. Words cannot express how much I appreciated her written and verbal moral support throughout this project. I am glad she chose to collect her stories from the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office so many years ago.
I am deeply indebted to my literary agent, Frank Weimann, who suggested the idea for this book more than three years ago. His persistence, determination, and faith in my story paid off, and he is greatly appreciated. Frank’s talented and dedicated staff—in particular, Jaimee Garbacik and Elyse Tanzillo of the Literary Group—were also instrumental in making a longtime dream of mine a reality. I am grateful to Peter Fields and Larry Logan as well, who shared their considerable expertise and walked me through the key points of book publishing contracts in the early phases of the project.
My special thanks go to Kathy Passero, who made magic out of stories I always considered somewhat boring, with little human interest value. Kathy’s talent, enthusiasm, and dedication to the project gave me strength to push through the countless hours we poured into Blood Secrets. Her tireless research, her willingness to delve into sometimes complicated subject matter, and her ability to master the technical aspects of blood pattern analysis and crime scene reconstruction helped not only to make the stories in this book come alive, but to ensure that the fine points would be understandable to readers.
Kathy’s husband, Greg, an editor, was super
with small but powerful suggestions. So were Kathy’s parents, Dick and Ginny Passero, who became the book’s first official fans.
Editing plays an enormous part in any book because it ensures accuracy, attention to detail, pacing, and much more. Our editor, Peter Joseph, of Thomas Dunne Books is a master already at his young age. His encouragement and expertise guided us from rough manuscript to final pages seamlessly. We would recommend him to anyone.
A number of people who played key roles in the real-life cases and crimes discussed in these pages agreed to be interviewed by Kathy during the many months she spent researching my cases and my years as a police officer in both Downey and Multnomah County. They generously donated their time and tapped their memories to ensure accuracy and to add vivid detail. Kathy’s and my deepest gratitude go to Aminah Ali, Jim Alsup, Gary Anderson, Dave Bishop, Greg Boer, Victor Calzeretta, Tim Carroll, Becky Doherty, Mickey Englert, Ralph Englert, Stan Faith, Chuck Fessler, Tom Hallman, Keith Henderson, Buck Henry, Bill Hodgman, Cheryl Kanzler, Bob Keppel, Gary Nasal, Jim Newsom, Brian Robertson, Shellie Samuels, Valerie Summers, Jim Thomas, Stan Turel, and Nelson Word.
Ken Rohrbaugh and Sharon Marcus, of the Jennie Wade House in Gettysburg, were very accommodating and graciously allowed my colleagues and me entry into Jennie’s historic home on more than one occasion so that we could conduct our research. Cindy L. Small, author of the book The Jennie Wade Story, generously shared her time and considerable expertise on the case. Dr. Ted Yeshion of ClueFinders Inc. along with Amy Dier and Olivia Leon, both of Blue Line Investigators, pooled their considerable expertise and energy into a formidable on-site team for our 2009 forensic investigations at the Jennie Wade House. Dr. Ray Grimsbo, too, lent his time and talents to the project, and these proved invaluable in our research.