A pot of gold fell into Terry’s lap somehow, and she used it well. Now, she co-opted the only comeback I had.
“You did all the DNA testing in this case, didn’t you?”
Somehow, Gelfer found his voice again. But it was plaintive, pathetic-and entirely unconvincing. Like a child who crayoned the walls and then cried that he “didn’t mean to.”
“Yes, I did. But I know nothing like that happened here. I followed protocol, I-”
“You were very careful in this case. Is that what you want to tell this jury?”
“Yes! I know there was no contamination. I never had the suspect’s blood anywhere near the lab when I was testing the evidence! I know it for sure!”
“But isn’t that what you thought when you contaminated the cold case evidence in the blind tests?”
“I…” Gelfer’s mouth was open but no words came out.
I had to admit, furious as I was, I felt sorry for him.
“Mr. Powers’s life hangs in the balance, sir! After what you did in those blind tests, do you honestly expect this jury to take your word for it that these test results are accurate?” Gelfer stared at her, looking like he was about to cry. “Answer the question, Mr. Gelfer! Do you?”
“I…uh.” Gelfer swallowed, opened and closed his mouth silently, then, his voice barely a whisper, said, “Yes, I guess so.”
Terry looked at the jury and shook her head, her expression both mournful and angry. Her voice was laced with disdain as she said, “I have no further questions for this witness.”
“People?” the judge asked.
Gelfer sent me a pleading look, but there was nothing I could do that wouldn’t make matters worse. This bomb had obliterated the DNA evidence. There was nothing left for me to resurrect. And as I stood to answer the judge, I realized that the damage wouldn’t be confined to the DNA. This case hinged on the physical evidence. We had no eyewitnesses, and our proof of motive had always been thin. A fuckup this gigantic on our most incriminating piece of physical evidence would burn through the credibility of every single expert we’d called-the hair, the prints, the soil. Now all of it would be laid to waste, leaving us with nothing but a few suspicious phone calls. And a sure acquittal.
“No. Nothing further.”
70
It was only four o’clock. You’d think total annihilation would take a little longer than ninety minutes. I asked for a brief recess to gather my next witnesses and the judge reluctantly allowed it. He was probably wondering why we were bothering. It was a good question.
The jury filed out, and as I turned to speak to Declan, I heard Wagmeister and company excitedly whispering their congratulations to Terry. I glanced up and saw Ian Powers looking over a law clerk’s shoulder at me with a smug little smile. An instant later it was gone, replaced with his usual solemn expression, the look he probably surmised an innocent man who was falsely accused would have. It wasn’t a bad impression, and it got a big boost from the fact that you could still see the child star Mattie from Just the Two of Us in his features. I huddled with Declan on our end of counsel table and tried to ignore the backslapping jubilation coming from the defense side.
“How’d Terry get that ASCLD/LAB report?” he asked, looking shaken.
“She’s got to have a snitch with connects high up. I’ll ask Dorian when it’s all over. And I’ll check out this report to make sure we didn’t miss anything, but right now, let’s move on.” I could always call Gelfer back to the stand if I found anything helpful. But I didn’t really see any way of rehabilitating him no matter what else I saw in the reports. “Who’ve we got on deck?”
“I think that studio cop, Ned Junger.”
I was about to go out and look for him when Bailey strode in.
“Not everyone thinks your case just blew up,” Bailey whispered. “Raynie’s on board.”
I was stunned. She’d kept her distance through the whole trial, never even checked in to ask how I thought it was going. “You’re kidding?” Now, of all times, I would’ve expected her to figure that Russell had been right all along. Speaking of which, he’d gone over to the railing to congratulate his good buddy, the murderer. They were all smiles and high spirits. It set my teeth on edge. But Raynie’s defection was as good a consolation prize as I was likely to get. If I could trust it. “Is it possible she’s pretending to be friendly so she can get up there and tank us?”
Bailey shook her head emphatically. “She was crying when she called me. Kept apologizing for not being more supportive.”
Or supportive at all. Still, I was skeptical.
“Look, just trust me on this one, okay? What the hell do we have to lose?”
That point won the day. “Is she ready right now?”
“Yep. And if I were you, I wouldn’t wait to let her change her mind.”
“Okay.”
Bailey hurried out to get her.
I needed a blockbuster ending to have any hope of making a comeback-unlikely as that seemed. The mother of the victim can be a very powerful witness if she’s at all sympathetic. But Raynie was a wild card. I had no idea what to expect from her. The judge took the bench at four ten on the nose and called the jury out. As they filed in, Bailey brought Raynie up the aisle. Her tearstained face told me that either Bailey was right on the money or this was the best snow job I’d seen since the presidential primaries.
The entire gallery shifted to watch and whisper as she moved toward us. It was the first time they’d seen a family member take the stand. Russell’s face was pinched with anger, and the entire Ian contingent seated around him gave Raynie, the traitor, cold-eyed looks of contempt.
Raynie seemed to have aged fifty years since I last saw her. Her shoulders sagged, and she clutched a handkerchief as she slowly walked to my side of counsel table. I guided her up to the witness stand and got her settled. Raynie sniffled into her handkerchief as she confirmed that she was Hayley’s mother and Russell’s ex-wife. Bailey brought her a box of Kleenex.
“I’m going to take you back several years to when your ex-husband, Russell Antonovich, was just a young writer on a teen show called Circle of Friends. Do you remember any problems between him and a fellow writer on that show named Tommy Maher?”
“Yes. Tommy claimed that Russell stole his screenplay.”
I had her describe the nasty fight over authorship of Wonderland Warriors, how Tommy became so unhinged they had to move him to the edge of the lot. The story had spread all over Hollywood; it was widely known that not only wouldn’t his contract on Circle of Friends be renewed, he’d probably never get hired as a writer again. So few had been surprised when he’d committed suicide. And after Tommy’s death, Russell’s fortunes had skyrocketed as Wonderland Warriors became a box office phenom.
I was watching Raynie carefully for any sign that this was a setup, but when she spoke of Tommy’s death, a look of genuine sadness crossed her face. So far, so good. I wrapped up the background testimony and moved on.
“Did Hayley have an iPad?”
“Yes. I gave it to her for her last birthday.” Raynie pressed her lips together. Bailey handed me the iPad, which was now encased in the standard evidence envelope. I pulled on latex gloves and removed it from the envelope. Then I turned it on and tapped the e-mail icon.
“Is this it?”
I held it up for Raynie, and the corners of her mouth trembled. Putting a hand to her lips to control the shaking, she choked out her answer. “Yes.”
Raynie had been living with the reality of Hayley’s death for some time now, but sitting on that witness stand, identifying something Hayley had held in her hands, brought it home on a visceral level.