Blood on the Leaves Part 23

Macon left the witness stand and exited the courtroom.

Tanner turned to the jury. "I'm going to let you go a little early today. I'd rather do that than keep you late or dismiss you in the middle of someone's testimony. As you know, we'll conduct half-day sessions tomorrow and again on Thursday. Hopefully, we'll be able to complete at least one or two witnesses both sessions." He took a large swallow of water. "As you've just experienced, on occasion in the heat of battle, tempers flare and lawyers in the pursuit of their advocacy may force a judge to comment negatively or, as was the case with Mr. Miller, impose a fine or sanction."

He leaned closer toward the jury and spoke with a father's firmness. "You should not, under any circ.u.mstances, construe that action by me as demonstrating a preference for one lawyer over the other. Nor does it imply I have a view regarding the credibility of a particular witness, or, for that matter, a position on the innocence or guilt of the defendant."

Reynolds carefully studied the reactions of the jury and wondered if the judge would have been better off avoiding this subject altogether.

Tanner looked at the attorneys and smiled. "As both the prosecution and defense will agree, I've had to take a lot of lawyers to the woodshed during my time as a judge, but it doesn't mean I don't like or admire them. They've got their job to do; I've got mine." He turned to the jury. "And, ladies and gentlemen, you certainly have yours. You are instructed to do that job on the basis of the evidence submitted to you. Any exchanges between myself and another partic.i.p.ant in this room shall have no bearing whatsoever on your deliberations or the outcome of this case."

He panned the jury. "Having looked into each of your faces, I'm a.s.sured we understand and accept our distinct roles. Am I correct in that belief?"

The jurors nodded yes or answered in the affirmative.

"Then we can all rest peacefully in the knowledge we'll be here tomorrow to see who gets fined next."

CHAPTER 45.

CHERYL HAD BEEN reading a magazine when she heard a car pull into the driveway. She straightened the pillows on the couch, quickly fixed her hair in the mirror, and hurried to the front door.

Reynolds walked in slowly and barely kissed his wife on the cheek. He proceeded into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. Cheryl took a seat next to him.

"Did it go as poorly as reported on the news?"

Reynolds let out an exasperated gasp. "A big-foot police officer stole Matheson's pen then planted it at the barn. We do blood evidence tomorrow." He shook his head in defeat. "Miller will claim contamination, police incompetence, corruption, and then dismiss the reliability of DNA testing."

"Martin must feel relieved," she said.

"I'd like to permanently relieve Martin of that pretentious smirk on his face."

"You have another face to worry about."

"Whose?"

"Young boy, nine years old, named Christopher." She looked at him. "Sound familiar?"

"It rings a bell." Reynolds rose from his seat. "Is it bad?" he asked, concerned.

"It's a man thing," she replied. "I'll let you be the judge."

"Please don't use that word or any other that might remind me of where I've been today," he pleaded. He headed down the hallway and knocked on his son's bedroom door. He entered and discovered Christopher standing next to the window, looking out. When the boy turned around, Reynolds noticed a swollen eye and a bruise on his forehead. He approached his son and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"You wanna talk?" Reynolds asked gently.

"I threw the first punch," Christopher replied with little comfort.

"You're supposed to throw the last."

"It was my last."

"How many guys?"

"Four. They all thought Matheson was a hero and they said you were a Tom."

"That's when you threw the punch?"

"No. They said you were an a.s.shole. Cared more about winning than finding the truth."

"You hit 'em then?"

"No. They called me a punk. That's when I hit 'em."

"Oh . . . Well, as long as you're defending our family's honor . . . Can you eat?"

"What did Mom make?"

"Tuna ca.s.serole."

"No."

Reynolds stood next to his son, and they both looked out the window. He placed his arm around Christopher's shoulders. "Wanna sneak out for a pizza?"

"Won't Mom get upset?"

"What's she gonna do about it, beat you?"

"Hey, Dad"-Christopher frowned-"could you quit with the cute stuff?"

"Sorry," said Reynolds. "Just wanted to look at the bright side."

"That's easy for you to say, you still got two good eyes."

They walked to the door, and Reynolds opened it, then placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "So, you wanna tell me again about that punch you threw?"

"It was a beauty, Dad, except I didn't follow it up with anything."

Reynolds nodded understandingly. "I know the feelin'." They both left the room.

CHAPTER 46.

TUESDAY MORNING DR. Nelson Stokes explained the intricacies of DNA. He told the jury that every individual has his own unique genetic makeup, which distinguishes him from anyone else who's ever lived, is currently alive, or will be born anytime in the future. "Think of it as G.o.d's special nicknames for all His children," he said, to the appreciation of Blaze Hansberry. Reynolds thought the rest of the jury found him condescending.

Stokes described the various tests performed, then showed examples of enlarged laboratory plastic strips, which offered a comparison of Dr. Matheson's DNA with the blood evidence discovered underneath Earvin Cooper's fingernails. He identified the pattern of thin lines that formed "a scientific match with the defendant, providing conclusive proof that Dr. Matheson and the victim were engaged in a b.l.o.o.d.y confrontation."

Miller offered numerous objections, most of which were overruled. But his constant interruptions had the desired effect of making the doctor's tedious presentation even more unbearable.

Tanner gave the jury an extra ten minutes for their morning break and an extra half hour for lunch. When they returned for the afternoon session, it took Reynolds less than thirty seconds to mercifully conclude his questioning.

"Dr. Stokes, you conducted DNA tests on blood found underneath Mr. Cooper's fingernails, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What are the odds the DNA you a.n.a.lyzed belongs to anyone other than the defendant?"

"Seven and a half billion to one."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Tanner appeared as relieved as the jury that Reynolds had completed his portion of the examination. He turned to Miller. "Counselor, you may begin your cross of the witness."

Miller stood and gave a comforting nod to the jurors and walked toward the witness. "Dr. Stokes, you'll have to forgive me if I ask some rather naive questions, I'm just an old country lawyer. I don't know much about DNA except for what I learned by watchin' case after case of high-profile defense teams pretty much destroyin' the reliability of all that testin' you do."

Reynolds knew once Miller started dropping his "g's" he was setting up the witness for the kill.

"Now, from the little I know about this evolvin' science, I'm somewhat concerned, and maybe you can alleviate my fears. Isn't it true that the people responsible for handlin' genetic material need constant trainin'?"

"That's true for all occupations involving technology, and yes, it's particularly the case with this form of science."

"I happen to have a list of county and state employees who initially collected then conducted the preliminary a.n.a.lysis on the DNA evidence you spent all morning long describing. I took the liberty of reviewing their training and the type of equipment they used." He moved to the defense table and retrieved several computer printouts. "Your Honor, permission to approach."

"Granted."

"Defense would like to introduce exhibit seventeen-A into evidence."

"Court reporter will so mark and record," instructed Tanner.

"Dr. Stokes, might you take a moment and evaluate that information, and if you can, would you kindly explain to the jury whether or not in your expert opinion the laboratory technicians on that list have maintained the proper ongoing professional training required to fulfill their duties?"

Stokes read the material. He frowned noticeably, and his eyebrows arched several times during his review.

"Dr. Stokes, I take it by your facial expressions you have some concerns you might like to share with the rest of us."

The witness became stoic. "The training hasn't kept pace with the technology in all instances, but I'm certain these people are qualified to perform the jobs they were hired to do."

"Oh, I wouldn't belittle our hardworking and dedicated state employees who do the best they can with poor training, limited resources, financial cutbacks, and outdated equipment." Miller folded his arms across his chest. "That equipment I just mentioned is outdated, wouldn't you agree, Doctor?"

Stokes shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "There's better and more advanced equipment in the scientific marketplace, but what they use is perfectly adequate."

"Somehow the phrase *perfectly adequate' doesn't exactly generate an abundance of confidence. If you were having a heart transplant, would you feel comfortable having the surgeons use *perfectly adequate' equipment?"

Reynolds stood. "Objection, Your Honor. We're not discussing heart transplants."

"I agree with counsel," said Miller. "We're dealing with a man's life and freedom, but I'll withdraw the question."

Reynolds sat down and decided he wouldn't object again unless absolutely necessary.

"If I could"-Stokes tentatively raised his hand-"might I address your concerns regarding the equipment?"

Miller smiled politely. "Please try."

"Thank you. Regardless of any perceived problems either in personnel, training, or equipment, I want to remind the jury that I personally conducted these tests, which formed the basis for my opinions. I can a.s.sure the court that my laboratory utilizes the most advanced and precise technology available."

"Thanks for reminding us of those facts," said Miller, looking none too thankful. "Perhaps you can help resolve another concern. I was taught in basic introduction to science, *Garbage in, garbage out.' Does that principle still apply?"

"It does," answered Stokes reluctantly, "but-"

"That's what I thought," said Miller, cutting him off. "Now, I reviewed the report you furnished the court. And frankly, I may have misunderstood some of the information."

"That's quite understandable," offered an annoyed Stokes.

Miller ignored the remark. "One of the samples you use to determine statistical probability is based on African-American males."

"Correct."

"So, when the report indicates a sample base of five, does that represent millions?"

"No. Five is the accurate number."

"Five people?!" Miller expressed incredulously.

"That may sound insufficient, but-"

"It does indeed. Tell the jury the backgrounds of those in the sample."

"The backgrounds?"

"It states in your report they were African-Americans. Can you tell us if they were born in this country? Were they the products of interracial marriages? Any health problems that might affect the tests?"

"They live in Detroit."

"So they were foreigners?" Miller's question caused an immediate outburst of laughter.

"Mr. Miller, could you save the humor for another time and place?" warned Tanner.

"I'm sorry, Your Honor. I hadn't realized how funny this was until Dr. Stokes answered my questions. I'm through with this witness."

Tanner gave Miller a stern stare that lasted several moments after he took his seat. "Any redirect, Mr. Reynolds?"