Key Witness (85 page)

Grant nodded. “I think we should be generous in interpreting the rules at this point, given everything that has transpired recently,” he said. “The witness may take the stand.”

An attractive, professional-looking middle-aged woman walked from the back of the room and took the witness stand. As she was sworn in and took her seat Wyatt crossed to the lectern and smiled at her. “Good morning, Dr. Lynch. Thank you for flying in on short notice.”

She smiled but offered no reply.

“You are a medical doctor, Dr. Lynch?” Wyatt led off.

“Yes, I am.” She was the kind of witness who would give short, concise responses to everything except her specialty.

“You are a forensic pathologist?”

“Yes.”

He recited her credentials into the record: Bryn Mawr College, magna cum laude; Johns Hopkins Medical School; internship at George Washington University Hospital, residency in pathology at Brigham & Women’s in Boston. Currently holding the Gladys Schwartz Chair of forensic pathology at Cornell University Hospital. “Impressive resumé,” he commented.

“Thank you.”

“Have you been favorably cited many times for your work in the field of forensic pathology?” Wyatt asked.

“Yes,” Dr. Lynch answered.

“In your extensive work as a pathologist, Dr. Lynch, have you been involved in genetic testing, such as RFLP and PCR?”

“Yes, I have.”

Abramowitz leaped up like a cat on a hot tin roof. “Objection!” she screeched. “Genetic testing has not been introduced in this case. Any reference to RFLP or PCR or any genetic testing should not be permitted here. We’ve already covered that ground thoroughly, with Dr. Ayala.”

Grant looked over at Wyatt. “Where is this coming from?” he asked.

“With all due respect to Dr. Ayala, Your Honor, our county coroner may be a forensic pathologist, but not one with expertise in DNA testing.” He walked closer to the bench, so that he was standing right in front of Grant. “Genetic testing has been and is being used all over the country, Your Honor, but I’m not planning to try and prove that because my client’s DNA doesn’t match that of the victim’s—all or any of them—that he’s innocent, although that proof has been used and accepted in several cases across the country. I have several precedents, if you would care to review them.”

Josephine got up and went to the defense table, where several lawbooks and journals, bookmarked with slips of paper, were piled.

Before she could bring them forward, Grant waved them off. “I know most of these cases,” he told Wyatt. “I reviewed them prior to the beginning of this trial, in case either you or the prosecution would decide to use genetic testing as an evidentiary tool.” He placed his hands together in front of him, as if in prayer. “This is a controversial subject; and while I don’t accept the use of it without reservation, it has entered the vocabulary.”

He sat back, having made up his mind. “I am going to allow this line of questioning,” he announced, “on a conditional basis. If or when it seems to be going in a direction that I feel is irrelevant or not within the jurisdiction of this case, I will stop it.” He looked down from the bench. “The objection is overruled. You may continue, Counselor,” he told Wyatt.

Wyatt exhaled a deep breath. His entire, case, what was left of it, had hinged on this ruling. If Grant had sustained Abramowitz’s objection, it would have been over. Now he still had life.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said from the heart. Turning back to his witness, he said, “Would you briefly explain to the court and the jury what PCR testing is?”

Dr. Lynch nodded. She turned in her chair and faced the jury.

“Every human being inherits DNA patterns from each of their parents,” she explained. “They combine to form your own individual genetic ‘footprint.’ In the same way that no two human beings’ fingerprints are identical, each person’s DNA makeup is separate and unique. Everyone’s DNA—yours and mine, everyone’s in the universe—is made up of the same basic amino acids: what determines particular traits or controls various bodily functions, for example, is the order and type of the particular acids in the strands of DNA.”

She leaned slightly forward in the chair, drawing closer to the jury box. “All humans have the same number of acid molecules in their DNA strands, but they vary greatly in composition. Each acid component of DNA has a separate and unique weight—which means genes of the same length from two different individuals will have different weights because they contain different numbers of each acid molecule. Even if only a few acids out of hundreds are different, modern technology can tell the samples apart.”

Wyatt was watching the jury as Dr. Lynch recited her explanation. They seemed interested; but whether they were getting it, understanding the concept, he couldn’t tell. Juries generally didn’t like technical stuff. They preferred visual, visceral information. But the framework had to be properly laid in.

“This is where PCR—polymerase chain reaction—comes in,” Lynch continued. “PCR allows us, in the laboratory, to identify the particular acids in a sample of DNA and then replicate those particular acids in the same proportions. Hundreds, even thousands of times. Once we have the DNA components in sufficient quantities, we can run tests, to separate each sample by its own unique weight.”

She paused once again to make sure the jury was with her. They seemed to be.

“PCR test data are comparative,” she explained. “We can tell if a particular sample matches another particular sample. Which means that if given a sample from a crime scene, for instance, and if given a second sample from a suspect in that case, we can tell if the two samples came from the same person.” She sat back. “Basically, that’s it.”

Wyatt stepped forward again. “Thank you, Doctor. Would you bring in the projector, please?” he asked the deputy in charge.

An overhead projector and screen were wheeled into the room. The projector was set up by the lectern, where Wyatt could operate it. The screen, as it had been for earlier testimony, was placed near the stand in a way that allowed Dr. Lynch, Judge Grant, and the members of the jury to see it easily. On the cart on which the projector rested was a pile of transparencies in plastic casings. There was also a pointer, which Wyatt picked up and walked over to his witness.

The lights were dimmed. Wyatt maneuvered the top set of transparencies into place on the surface of the projector.

“What we’re going to do is very straightforward. We’re going to present some basic PCR test samples, and examine them using the criterion Dr. Lynch told us, which is standard in the medical and legal field.”

Two side-by-side slides of plastic strips with a line of eight small circles were projected onto the screen. “These are two examples of basic PCR markers?” Wyatt asked his expert witness.

“Yes,” Dr. Lynch answered. “The circles inside the plastic strips are called ‘window wells.’ ” She stood up and pointed to the slide nearest her, then to the corresponding slide next to it. On each slide one identical well was stained blue; all the others were clear. She moved the pointer between the two colored dots. “You can see how these two patterns are similar,” she pointed out. “That indicates that the DNA on those two wells corresponds.”

“So these two samples most likely came from the same person?”

“Yes.”

“What could the odds be that two samples looked this identical but didn’t come from the same person?” he asked.

“One in five to six hundred, roughly,” she answered. “Statistically, those are extremely high percentages.”

“Did you extract these samples yourself?” he asked her.

“Yes. These are samples of your blood which I personally took on Saturday.”

“Thank you.” He put up the next set of transparencies. “Are these samples similar?” he asked.

Having already been briefed, she only had to look at them for a moment. “Yes, they are.”

Wyatt picked up an identifying slip from his table. “And again,” he said, “these are samples taken from one specimen.” He passed the slip on to the jury. “Would you explain where these samples came from?” he asked.

“These are sperm samples taken from victim number four. The first victim from whom sperm samples were taken and preserved.”

Abramowitz looked like she was going to object, but after a quick glance at Judge Grant—who was obviously interested in the information Wyatt was presenting—she held her tongue.

Wyatt left that set of transparencies up and inserted another set alongside them.

“Sperm taken from victim number six,” he ID’d them. “Do you see anything interesting, Dr. Lynch?” he asked her.

“The DNA types are the same,” she answered. “Identical to the previous ones,” she added.

“Does that mean both these women had sex, voluntarily or otherwise, with the same man? The semen source tested the same?”

“Yes.”

“Even though it was”—he looked at some notes—“seven and a half months apart?”

“It could have been ten years apart. This sperm almost certainly came from the same man.”

As he was about to put up another transparency he saw Josephine frantically waving him over. “Excuse me for a moment,” he told the court.

He walked to her and listened while she whispered in his ear. Then he smiled—a big, broad grin—and nodded. Josephine got up and left the courtroom. Wyatt walked back to the lectern.

“We need to have a private conference along with prosecution counsel in your chambers, Your Honor.”

“This is insane,” Abramowitz objected. “How much more of these hollow theatrics do we have to put up with?”

Wyatt smiled at her. “Not much more.” He looked at Grant. “We found Lieutenant Blake’s missing computer, Your Honor.” He walked to the door that led from Grant’s office to the hallway and opened it. Angelo stood on the other side, the computer cradled in his arms. “Come on in,” Wyatt said.

Angelo walked in and put the computer on Grant’s desk. Abramowitz looked at it like it was a live mortar shell. “Where did you find it?” Wyatt asked his investigator.

“At the bottom of a trash barrel at her condominium complex,” Angelo answered. “It was hidden in a crate used to pack dishes, covered with Styrofoam packing. Whoever did it took pains to make sure it wasn’t found. But I did anyway,” he said proudly.

Judge Grant ordered the computer to be locked up in his office under tight security. Wyatt designated Garrett Green to be his representative in deciphering what was in it. Green and his computer-expert counterpart from the DA’s office would go to work on it and see what they could find.

Dr. Lynch took her place on the stand again. Wyatt placed another set of slides of plastic strips on the projector and shone them onto the screen. “Two more samples,” he said. “Are these samples identical?”

She looked them over. “Yes.”

He consulted his notes. “These are sperm samples taken from the latest victim. One would logically infer that they are the freshest, and most accurate, is that correct?”

“Not necessarily,” she corrected him. “The composition of your blood doesn’t change with the passage of time. As long as the integrity of the samples is maintained, it would hold constant.”

“Okay.” Another set of transparencies was placed adjacent to the set already up. “What about these?” he asked.

She looked them over carefully. “This one,” she said, pointing to the line on the left, “is identical to these other two.”

“From victim number seven.”

“Yes.”

“What about the other one?”

“It’s different. It’s someone else’s.”

“You’re right,” Wyatt said. “It is. This sample came from blood that was taken from Marvin White.” He handed a lab report to Grant. “Here’s the affidavit from the lab that did the testing. It’s the state-run lab in Washburn, which does all forensic pathology tests for criminal trials throughout the state,” he added.

“This doesn’t prove anything!” Abramowitz complained. “Dr. Ayala has already testified to all that, Your Honor.”

“I’m sure that Dr. Lynch, who is considered more of an expert at this discipline than Dr. Ayala, would disagree,” Wyatt said, “but I’m not going to argue that it does. That’s not my point.”

“What is your point?” Grant asked him with intense curiosity.

“I’m about to show you.” He removed the slides of Paula Briggs’s and Marvin White’s blood samples and put up two others, again side by side. “What about these two?” he asked his witness.

She looked them over carefully. “They’re identical. They’re identical to this,” she said, pointing to the previous set.

“So they’re both from victim number seven,” Abramowitz groused from her place. “What is this proving?”

Wyatt walked over to the screen. Taking the wand from Dr. Lynch, he pointed to the strand on the left-hand side of the most recent set of slides. “This is victim number seven,” he said. Then he moved the pointer to the slide alongside it. “But this is not.”

“What?” Grant interjected loudly, an involuntary response. “Didn’t you say the two are identical?” he asked Dr. Lynch.

“They are identical,” Wyatt said, “that’s true. But they’re not from the same sample.” He stepped away from the screen. “With your permission, Your Honor, I would like to ask Dr. Lynch to step down for a moment so that I may recall Dr. Ayala to the stand. There’s a point in his testimony that applies here, and it would be helpful to go over it again now.”

“That’s very irregular,” Grant said. “Why couldn’t Dr. Lynch finish and then recall Dr. Ayala?”

“Because I want to introduce another piece of evidence that ties in to what we’re discussing here.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I can’t sit here and not object to this farce,” Abramowitz said sharply, her voice showing anger mixed with mental and psychological fatigue. “This courtroom has turned into a three-ring circus with Mr. Matthews as the ringmaster.”

Wrong thing to say, lady, Wyatt thought.

Confirming his intuition, Grant visibly scowled. “I am in control of this courtroom, Ms. Abramowitz. I’d advise you not to entertain any thoughts otherwise.”

“I didn’t mean that, Your Honor,” she stammered, “but I do think—”

He cut her off cold. “What you think right now is irrelevant, okay? What counts here is what I think.” He turned to Wyatt. “As long as this is on point, go ahead. Would you mind waiting outside?” he asked Dr. Lynch.