Death Dance

by Linda Fairstein

  Abramson was circling his arms in the air for emphasis now, looking more like someone doing the backstroke than an attorney making a argument in a court of law.

  "So your concern here, if I understand you-"

  "Is my client's privacy rights, Judge McFarland. Ramon Carido's DNA profile contains an extraordinary amount of personal information about him. It carries the entire physical component of his being, and this unregulated and discretionary attempt to use it by Ms. Cooper and the NYPD is completely improper and inappropriate."

  "Are you done, Mr. Abramson?"

  Ron did the obligatory one-hundred-eighty-degree scoping of the courtroom before he sat down at counsel table, hoping that some-one other than the three remaining-to-be-sentenced perps had witnessed his Clarence Darrow moment. "Yes, your honor."

  "I'll hear you on this, Ms. Cooper."

  "Thank you. Just to make this clear at the outset, judge, Mr. Carido voluntarily provided the DNA sample at issue here. At no point in the earlier investigation did he assert any claim that the preparation of the swab violated his constitutional rights."

  Abramson stared at the mural behind McFarland's head.

  "The use of a linkage database is an essential part of the investigative process that begins when evidence is submitted by local police for DNA analysis. In almost every matter in which the identity of the perpetrator is unknown to witnesses or detectives, the attempt to gather biological samples for comparison-and significantly for exclusion-is as critical a step as trying to compare the material to that of convicted offenders."

  "How about the privacy issue?"

  "Neither the police nor FBI nor prosecutors have access to the linkage database. It's the tool the serologists use to try to match evidence to unknown assailants. There's no dissemination of information to law enforcement agencies unless or until there's a hit."

  "Why don't you address Mr. Abramson's argument about Carido's DNA profile? Is your point that once he gave his sample to the police, it remains in the database indefinitely?"

  "I don't have to go that far, judge. The matter in which Carido gave a buccal swab is still an active and open investigation. He hasn't been excluded as a suspect. The fact is that the homicide investigation is the kind of case which will apparently not be resolved by this kind of forensic analysis because of the condition of the deceased's body, but there's no statute of limitations and the police are still optimistic they'll find the killer."

  The judge looked back and forth between us. I went on. "In fact, I don't think Mr. Abramson can have it both ways. If he believes that the original homicide is a closed case, then Legal Aid no longer represents Ramon Carido. He's got no standing to make this motion."

  "I'm telling the court we're going to be Carido's counsel going forward for all purposes," Abramson said.

  McFarland was focused on the facts of the homicide. "Well, if you don't need Carido's DNA to prove that original crime, why shouldn't I grant Mr. Abramson's request?"

  "There has been no motion by Legal Aid to expunge Carido's profile from the linkage database since the date it was entered. They've had months to take that step and failed to do so. Now you've got a confirmed match to a violent felony that he committed and the police are supposed to pretend it never happened? We have identified a predator who's clearly a danger to society and we have probable cause to arrest Ramon Carido, with or without the cooperation of Mr. Abramson."

  "Have you got any law for me?" McFarland asked.

  Abramson was back on his feet. "There's a Kings County case, your honor. Carlos Rodriguez. I'll give you the cite."

  The old Brooklyn decision wouldn't be binding on McFarland, and she would welcome the chance to make new law. "That's entirely distinguishable from the instant matter, judge," I said. "The victim and offender were known to each other. The issue of his identity and the DNA evidence were completely irrelevant to the investigation."

  "Did it go up?" she asked, referring to the Court of Appeals in Albany.

  "No." Thankfully not, I almost added. The decision in the Kings County case was such a bad one for the prosecution-disallowing the use of the suspect's DNA profile-that the prosecutors wisely had never appealed to the higher court. "But there are two other matters which raise similar issues that I'd like to submit to you."

  "Hand them to the clerk, Ms. Cooper."

  "I didn't have time to pull them before I came up here."

  McFarland seemed annoyed. "You know the cases?"

  "One is Waldemar-it's a Bronx decision. I can't recall the name of the other one."

  "Never mind. I'll find them."

  I had been more anxious to cut Abramson off before he stopped us from going after Carido than carefully marshaling the support for my position to present to the judge when we got here. If I had given McFarland the ammunition she needed to make an immediate ruling, it might have gone in my favor at that point.

  "I'm going to put this over for a week," McFarland said.

  Abramson wasn't any happier than I was. This judge was never equivocal, and I assumed the adjournment was so that she could write an opinion on this still-evolving area of the law.

  "In all fairness to my client, your honor, you're creating a much more dangerous situation for him. If there's going to be a manhunt, it always raises the possibility that the police will stage a confrontation with-"

  McFarland poked at her sternum with her forefinger. "I'm creating the dangerous situation? I hardly think so. Quite frankly, Mr. Abramson, I'm going to deny the motion in regard to your client, and I'm going to do that right now, from the bench. You can't expect the police to put the genie back in the bottle, can you? Since there was never an objection to the taking of a biological sample from Mr. Carido, and since there was no request by your colleague to expunge that profile from the database, I'm going to deny your motion and allow the police to go forward with their investigation."

  "Most respectfully, your honor, then why bother with the adjournment?" he asked.

  "Most respectfully, Mr. Abramson, I'd suggest you let me finish my statement," McFarland said. "I think it's necessary to weigh the harm that could be done by allowing Mr. Carido to remain at large. Your complaint is about the propriety of his profile in the databank, not about the validity of the DNA match, am I right?"

  "Yes, but-"

  "Balancing the potential harm to the public against that which your client might suffer, I'd have to come down in favor of using the biological evidence to charge him, sooner rather than later. He'll have his day in court."

  "And the adjournment?"

  "The remedy you requested was rather extreme in this particular case, don't you think? But you raise some important concerns about how the linkage database is used flow, how it will be used in the future, and about whether there is any appropriate mechanism in place for expunging a sample if it doesn't belong there any longer. I'd like to do some research on this, read the cases you've both mentioned. Perhaps you'd each like to submit briefs in support of your positions? That's why I'm giving you the weekend."

  I wanted to brief the matter this weekend like I wanted to empty Joe Berk's bedpan.

  "And Miss Cooper," McFarland said, "I think what I'd like to do is direct you to call the medical examiner's office. Tell the serologists that there are to be no further disclosures of any matches within the linkage database to anyone except known offenders for the next week or ten days-either to your office or the NYPD-until Ihand down my decision. Nothing divulged concerning suspects who've been exonerated or from the so-called voluntary samples."

  "But, your honor," I said, starting to protest before McFarland cut me off.

  "Let's go off the record for a minute," she said, pointing to the court reporter as she pushed up the large sleeve of her black robe with the other hand. "Look, Alex, before you go crazy over this issue, how many cases are we talking about?"

  "In a week's time, citywide? Maybe thirty, maybe a hundred."

  "That's submissions of evidence to t
he database, right?"

  "Yes."

  "And hits? You're probably lucky to get five from the linkage database."

  "You're right, judge. Some weeks two, some none. Five would be a gift."

  "So don't make a stink. Get Ramon Carido off the street for the time being and let's slow this down so I can look at the bigger picture."

  "Give me two weeks, then, judge," Abramson said. "I want to consult with the other supervisors. We'd like to submit papers on this."

  Abramson and I were both trying to figure out what this meant for him. McFarland was not a Solomonic judge-she rarely split the baby. She wasn't afraid to take a firm position, no matter how controversial, if she could ground it in the law. She was giving me a go at Carido this afternoon, but she might be doing Abramson a favor in the long run.

  "We're back on the record. Miss Cooper, two weeks from today, ten a.m.?"

  "Yes, your honor."

  Mercer walked me down the aisle and out of the courtroom. "Where's she going on this? What do you think?"

  "Call DCPI and get your press release out. I have no idea where she'll wind up, but at least we can get this psycho off the street now." The deputy commissioner of Public Information could issue a release with a description of the attacker, and police could begin to sweep the parks and homeless shelters for Ramon Carido. "And I'm going to have to find someone from the Appeals Bureau to help me out with a brief on this."

  "Hey, Alex," Ron Abramson said, tugging at my elbow. "You free after work for a drink?"

  "Now that I don't have to pack my bags to go to Rikers, I guess I've got time to kill. I just don't think I'm in the mood."

  "Look, I had to do what I had to do. All my lawyers are unsettled about these databank rules, and I figured this was a good chance to get some guidelines. Got your attention, didn't I?"

  "Another time, Ron."

  Mercer pressed for the down elevator and Abramson headed upstairs.

  Laura got up from her desk and followed us into my office. "Eric Ingels called you. Says it's urgent." She thrust the phone message with his number into my hand.

  I dialed and he answered himself. "Alex, I've got a problem with Dr. Sengor."

  I flopped onto my chair. "Like what?"

  "Like he's not coming in. He won't surrender."

  "That's just another factor for the judge to consider when I ask for bail." I was too tired and frustrated to worry about the extra day until his scheduled court appearance, pleased that the hospital was keeping him on a short leash by requiring him to check in twice daily.

  "He wants to talk to you."

  "Who does?"

  "My client. Dr. Sengor."

  "Sengor wants to make a statement?" I shrugged my shoulders and looked at Mercer, repeating Ingels's comments so Mercer could understand what was going on.

  "Not exactly. He swears he didn't commit a crime. He wants to talk to you."

  "You're going to let him?"

  "I'd like to patch him in when he calls back. He's been phoning every fifteen minutes or so, waiting for you to come back from court."

  "Is he home? We can just set it up from my end," I said.

  "No, he tells me he's not. The apartment was hospital housing. He claims they don't want him living there during his suspension."

  "Fine. I'll be at my desk. Have him call my secretary on the hour. She'll hook you in on a conference line."

  I hung up and put Mercer to work. "Let's get TARU on this. How fast can they set up a triangulated phone call?"

  The Technical Assistance Resource Unit was the NYPD's small crew of wizards who used state-of-the-art equipment to do everything from video surveillance to wiretaps and intercepts.

  "Five minutes, with a bit of luck. I'll get that going if you give me Ingels's number. When Sengor dials in, you check caller ID and I'll run with that, too. And get someone from the DA's Squad down here to hook a recorder onto your phone. You'll want a tape of whatever he says."

  I called the squad commander, whose office was directly above mine, and then stepped out of the way five minutes later so that Vito Taurino, a detective I had worked with often over the years, could attach a device to the telephone receiver that fed a minirecorder. As long as one party to a conversation consents for a call to be recorded, the law in New York allowed me to surreptitiously tape the incoming call.

  I dated and timed the header of the recording, sent Laura down the hall so that Mercer could use her console to stay in touch with TARU, and settled in to wait for the phone to ring. While Sengor and I spoke, detectives would be trying to identify his location by reading signals from cell satellite towers. If he stayed on the phone for ninety seconds, they would know the very street corner on which he stood.

  "They're ready for you," Mercer said. "You're good to go."

  "Give me a heads-up when TARU tells you they've made him."

  Laura buzzed me from down the hall to tell me that Sengor had called on my line, and that she had patched Eric Ingels into the call.

  "Dr. Sengor wants to talk to you, Alex. Doctor? Can you hear me? Ms. Cooper's on the line.**

  The connection was bad. The crackling noise of the static made it hard to hear Sengor when he said hello to me. There was no need to recite Miranda warnings. The doctor wasn't in custody and his attorney had requested the opportunity for him to talk.

  "You're making a very big mistake, Ms. Cooper. I did not rape these women," he said, barking each word into the receiver for emphasis. "You have ruined my life, I want you to know that."

  I wasn't the one slipping mickeys into the drinks of unsuspecting women and then having sex with them while they were unconscious, but that never stopped a perp from blaming me for his problems. "Doctor, is there-"

  "I have lost my job, I've lost my home, I've lost my girlfriend, for what? What did I do? For what crime? You can't put my name in the newspaper just for your own career, for your own ambitions. It's my life you're ruining."

  "Eric, if your client is calling just to harangue me about the case, there's absolutely no point to this conversation."

  "Hold on, Alex, hold on. Selim? Can you hear me? Explain to Ms. Cooper what you told me, explain how the girls were doing drugs before you got home," Eric said. "He wants to tell you what really happened."

  I looked at the second hand on my watch as Mercer stood in the doorway, holding the cell phone while he waited for results from the TARU detectives. I mouthed a question to him. "How much longer?"

  "They're not getting a signal. Be patient."

  "Miss Cooper? Are you listening to me? You know what would happen to my family in Turkey if this is public? Terrible disgrace. Disgrace to my mother, to my father-who is also a doctor. And what? Because of the word of these two silly girls? I'm asking you as a professional to drop this case. I've withdrawn from the hospital, no one was hurt, and if you don't prosecute, I'll be able to keep my license to practice medicine."

  Sengor hit the right button. A license to an endless supply of drugs to experiment on his victims. It wasn't a gift I was prepared to put in his hands. He rambled on and on, while I looked to Mercer for word of any results. We were going on four minutes and TARU had come up blank.

  "Talk to your lawyer, Dr. Sengor. There's no reason to go on with this conversation. You can explain whatever you'd like to the judge and jury."

  The call was terminated after six minutes and I hung up the receiver. Mercer was still on the cell phone, tryingto get an explanation from the tech team.

  "Did they have the right number?" I asked, checking the 212 area code and seven digits that I had taken down from caller ID against the ones on Mercer's pad. "How come this works on TV and in the movies, but when I need it, the system fails?"

  "They had everything right. They were scrambling like crazy trying to find the cell tower. The only problem is that your boy Sengor was calling from out of the zone-that's why TARU couldn't pinpoint his whereabouts."

  "What zone? What do you mean, 'the zone'?"

  "
Sengor's calling from his father's home, Alex, in the old country. Bet you didn't know the area code in Ankara, Turkey, is also 212."

  23

  Within the hour, Mercer Wallace and a backup team from Special Victims were at Selim Sengor's high-rise building, a hospital-owned residence on the Upper West Side. While I waited for him to get back to me with news of when the young doctor had abandoned his home, I called the hospital's general counsel, who'd been monitoring him since his weekend suspension.

  "You're telling me you had no idea Sengor fled the country?" I asked.

  "I'm shocked, truly. We were beeping him two or three times a day, and ten minutes later he'd return the calls.I talked to him myself just this morning."

  "I've got detectives on the way to the apartment. I expect there are documents or papers left behind. Things that might help us track his flight route, maybe computer records. He'll be on the run."

  "I feel so embarrassed about this, Alex. You don't need to waste time with a warrant. We'll consent to letting you in. It's hospital property-I'll send someone from my office over to meet the detectives right now."

  "That would be a help. I think they're interviewing the super and doormen first."

  It was after five o'clock when Mercer called back. "We got another collar."

  "A new case?"

  "Nope. One of our perp's buddies. Seems Sengor skipped out of town over the weekend. Drove to Boston, flew out of Logan to London and then home. You're probably right about the phony passport. This other guy is also a psychiatric resident-maybe there's something in the water in that department. Dr. Alkit's his name. Sengor gave Alkit his hospital beeper and the keys to the apartment."

  "So every time Sengor was beeped to check in…" I said.

  "You got it. Alkit called him in Turkey, and he phoned the general counsel to report back, so they kept up the ruse that he was still in town. Sengor apparently figures that if he isn't here in the country, you can't go forward with the prosecution and there won't be any press. He thinks the Turkish authorities won't find out about the charges and he can keep his license to practice medicine over there. Guess he's never heard of Interpol."