Numan turned back to the jury. “No. I can only say it was recent enough that it had not worn off yet. But of course, cars run on wheels and wheels turn and when those wheels turn, they of course shed any material they may have picked up from any given area. And so the fact that I was still able to find the particulates that I did indicated to me that it couldn’t have been very long-less than a year, certainly-since the cars were in that area…”
Seriously. What was so wrong with a simple “No”?
Wagmeister’s expression went from amazed to amused, and when Numan finally wound down, he wisely threw in the towel. “Nothing further.”
When the judge asked me if I had anything further, I wondered could there possibly be anything further? The soil should’ve been a nice piece of evidence to add to the big picture. But in the hands of “I’m comfortable with juries” Numan, all it did was confuse them and piss them off. The commentators would be dumping on us all night.
I had no time to dwell on the loss. The next witness would be Declan’s inaugural run. I’d decided to let him take the print expert, Leo Relinsky. Relinsky had been telling juries about fingerprints for over thirty years, so I figured this was a foolproof witness to give a newbie who was getting his first taste of a high-profile case.
Declan had been studying his notes and getting ready half the night, though it surely wasn’t the first time he’d put on a print expert. But this morning, in my office, he’d been a nervous wreck. He couldn’t stand still. He was straightening his tie, adjusting his jacket, and fidgeting nonstop. I’d had to tell him to sit down three times. “If you don’t relax, you’ll pass out in front of the jury. Take some slow, deep breaths, and don’t drink any more coffee. I’m getting the shakes just looking at you.”
Now, as Numan left the courtroom, I sat down and whispered, “Go get ’em, slugger.”
Declan stood, straightened his tie for the millionth time, and buttoned his jacket. He cleared his throat and barely managed to choke out, “The People call Leo Relinsky.”
Declan started by having Relinsky state his credentials. It was a good way to warm up, because Leo’s CV went on for a solid ten minutes. He’d won awards, published papers, taught classes-you name it, Leo had excelled at it. I could see that Declan was starting to relax. Excellent. Then Declan had Leo give his spiel about the uniqueness of fingerprints.
That out of the way, they moved on to the results: Jack Averly’s prints on the interior driver’s door handle of Brian’s car, Ian Powers’s prints on several areas inside Averly’s car, and last, Powers’s thumb and index fingerprints on the trunk of Brian’s car, half an inch from the bloodstain.
It all went smoothly until Declan asked him about his findings on the nine-millimeter Ruger that’d been seized from Ian’s house.
“Did you find any prints on that gun?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you think it unusual that someone would have a gun in his house that didn’t have his prints on it?”
“Well, not necessarily.”
“But doesn’t the absence of prints indicate to you that the gun had been wiped down for some reason?”
“It could. I didn’t particularly notice evidence that the gun had been wiped down, but then again, I wouldn’t have thought much of it if I had. People frequently do clean their guns. Or they should.”
“Did you find gun-cleaning fluid on the handle, or the trigger guard?”
Wagmeister stood up. “Objection! Assumes facts not in evidence-that he was looking for cleaning fluid.”
The judge had been watching Declan with a mixture of pity and irritation. The questions about wiping the gun were a very bad idea for exactly the reason the witness had just explained. Declan had painted himself into a corner; now he was desperately trying to make something good come of it. A classic example of bad money after bad.
“Well, I’ll allow it,” the judge said. “But please move it along, Mr. Shackner.”
Declan swallowed and his ears reddened. My heart ached for him. We’d all been there at some point-just not on national television.
“Shall I ask the question again?”
“No,” Leo replied. “I remember it. The answer is that I always note the presence of cleaning fluid if it’s there, but I did not notice any such fluid on the Ruger.”
“Then, just to recap, you found Mr. Powers’s prints on-”
Wagmeister was on his feet again. “Objection! Asked and answered.”
“So it would seem from the way that question started,” Judge Osterman said. “Are we going anywhere new, Mr. Shackner?”
Declan cleared his throat. Poor guy, I knew he’d just been trying to end on a strong note. “No, Your Honor, I guess not.”
A brief scan of the jury showed a couple of mildly puzzled expressions, and our single black mom was suppressing a little smile. No harm done. In fact, we might’ve gained a few sympathy points. Nothing wrong with that.
Wagmeister did the standard cross. “With regard to the prints you found on the cars, you can’t tell when the prints were put there, can you?”
Leo amiably agreed he could not.
As Wagmeister beat that dead horse for another ten minutes, I passed Declan a note for his redirect. He nodded, and when Wagmeister was finished, he asked that one question.
“You testified that you found Ian Powers’s thumb and index prints on the trunk of Brian’s car. Here’s a hypotheticaclass="underline" Assume that those prints were found less than an inch away from a bloodstain that also matched Ian Powers. Assume further that the car was left in an outdoor parking lot near the airport for at least two days. With that information in mind, what if anything could you say about when those prints were deposited on that trunk?”
“Objection! Improper hypothetical!” Wagmeister shouted as though he’d been stung by a hornet.
“I assume there will be testimony to that effect regarding the blood?” the judge asked.
“There will,” Declan said.
“Overruled.”
“The short answer is that it means the prints were probably left fairly recently. Reason being, weather will break down blood evidence, and though prints are a little more durable, it can destroy prints too. So when you put it all together, the fact that you found identifiable prints near the blood indicates that both were most likely deposited recently. I can’t be more precise than that, though.”
“Thank you. Nothing further.”
Declan had been pale after his earlier snafu, but when he sat down, I noticed there was a little more color in his cheeks now. A nice finish cures so many ills.
69
We still had an hour before the noon recess, so I asked Bailey to bring the New York contingent down to the courtroom. I had to put on the NYPD officers to prove that Averly had been in New York, under an assumed name, and that Hayley’s iPad had been stolen from his hotel room.
“Okay, but who else are you going to call? The New York guys won’t take that long.”
She was right. And I couldn’t afford to incur Judge Osterman’s wrath. His latest edict: “Any party who runs out of witnesses before it’s time to recess will find that they’ve rested their case.” Since he really couldn’t get away with forcing the defense to rest, I knew this warning was for me. “We could put on the airline records person to prove when Averly flew out of LAX and our computer cop to say that Averly used the iPad to buy that ticket to Paris.”
“They’re in the DA lounge, ready to go. But we still might come up short.”
“That’s all I can think of at the moment. We’ll have to put on what we’ve got and hope for the best.”
As it turned out, we were still ten minutes shy of twelve o’clock when I finished with my New Yorkers and records people, but the judge could see I’d done my best to use my court time. He let us go early without a fuss. When Bailey left to round up our next witnesses, I walked Declan to his office, knowing he needed some moral support. Sure enough, the moment I stepped inside and closed the door, he started to apologize for his screwup with Relinsky.