Legal Thriller: HOA Wire, a Courtroom Drama (Brent Marks Legal Thrillers Book 3), page 11
Brent went over all the crises and gave instructions. All those wanting appointments were pushed until after the trial. Charles Stinson used to say, “During a trial, boy, you think, eat, sleep and crap only the trial.” It was a statement that was not as wise as it was true.
When Brent came back into the great room, he saw the patio table flooded with the light of dozen candles, with the terrific harbor view in the background. He took a seat, and Angela poured him a deep red wine. He picked up the glass and savored the aroma.
“Argentinian Malbec,” she purred.
They took some sips of wine and munched on Angela’s hors d’oeuvres; little cheese eggplant things and assorted nuts and tasties. She put down her glass, went behind him and massaged his shoulders. If this is what marriage is like, count me in! he thought.
* * *
Jack’s night was not as pleasant. He was, again, on the night shift. With his experience, Jack should have applied for a job with the Orange Grove Homeowners Association. He knew who was cheating on whom, who the alcoholics were, and, also, all the addicts. He even knew the local drug dealers, whom he kept a special eye on, waiting for them to screw up.
This time he had little presents for everyone, and it wasn’t even Christmas. Just after Gary Goldstein pulled his car into his garage, Jack rang the bell and his wife, Jean, answered.
“Oh hello, Mr. Ruder!” she said, cheerfully.
Jack was grumbling in the background.
“Who’s that at the door?”
“It’s Mr. Ruder, dear.”
He pushed her aside, albeit gently.
“What do you want?”
Jack smiled, and popped the subpoena into his hand.
“See you in court,” he said, and walked away.
That would be the easiest one. He had stocked up enough junk food to make sure that, as soon as he spotted Keith Michel, he would have his little gift too, and so would fat Felipe, who had just made bail on the assault charge.
* * *
Brent and Angela dined on fabulous buttered lobster tails with zucchini parmesan, accompanied by a fine chilled French Sancerre. Angela let Brent cheat a little and go through his emails and trial notebooks while she did the dishes and drew him a special bath.
After a delicious bath, Angela treated Brent to an unbelievable massage.
“Angie, I’m in heaven, baby, but I feel so selfish. What can I do for you?”
“Funny you should ask that,” she said, as she dropped her bathrobe and slipped under the sheets. “Why don’t you use your imagination?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The alarm bell on the phone struck like a hammer in Brent’s head. He looked around. Angie wasn’t there. Had it all been just a pleasant, crazy dream? Then he heard the shower running. She was already up. Time to face reality.
* * *
Chernow recalled the CDC witness, but it didn’t do him any good. CDC’s procedures had been followed carefully, as they were specially designed to guard against the release of contaminants that could be used in biological warfare or terrorism, but the loosely organized Laboratory Response Network turned out to be a way of passing the governmental buck, and its protocol did not comport with California’s law on the chain of custody of evidence.
Chernow could not establish his chain of custody for the urine sample that had been tested positive for ricin, and it would never get to the jury. Brent, of course, was elated. But Chernow was ready to draw blood. He recalled Dr. Perez to the stand and emphasized that they had found an environmental sample of ricin in Orange Grove at Nancy’s house, but they still could not explain the missing “puzzle pieces” of how no ricin was found in Barbara Densmore’s home. Brent zeroed in on Perez for the kill.
“Dr. Perez, are you familiar with the term clinical chemistry?”
“Of course I am.”
“Clinical chemistry is the process of analyzing bodily fluids, isn’t that correct?”
“It is.”
“Dr. Perez, is it true that the only way to clinically confirm a diagnosis of ricin poisoning is to test for the presence of ricin in the urine?”
“Clinical confirmation? Yes.”
“And this test is only performed by the Centers for Disease Control?”
“Yes.”
“So, you cannot clinically confirm, by the use of a test that was available to you, that the poison used on Mrs. Densmore was, in fact ricin, isn’t that correct?”
Chernow said, “Objection, asked and answered,” at the same time the doctor blurted out, “I know it was ricin.”
“Move to strike, Your Honor, as non-responsive.”
“Let me rule on the objection first. Yes, Mr. Chernow, it was asked and answered, but this is cross examination, so I will allow it,” said Curtis. “The motion to strike is also granted, and the jury is instructed to disregard Dr. Perez’ last answer. Dr. Perez, please answer the question.”
“Could you repeat the question please?”
“Dr. Perez, you cannot clinically confirm, by the use of a test that was available to you, that the poison used on Mrs. Densmore was, in fact ricin, isn’t that correct?”
Perez looked like he had just swallowed a piece of dog poop, but he had to respond, “Correct.”
There were some gaping mouths in the jury box from that one. Nancy’s eyes were bright, as she suppressed an expression of joy. Brent was making points. I’d better not go back into the courthouse bathroom after court in case Brad wants another skirmish in front of the urinals, he thought. The kill shot having been fired at Dr. Chernow, he returned to finish off his victim.
“And you tested the clothes that Barbara Densmore was wearing the day of her death for ricin, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, it is.”
“That test was negative, correct?”
“Correct.”
“No ricin?”
“No ricin.”
Brent was sure that the jury had no doubt that the urine sample tested positive for ricin, but the judge instructed them that no urine test was in evidence, and that they could not consider the testimony about it. It was a good win for Brent, but not enough to win the case. You could be sure that the jury would be thinking about the positive urine test when they deliberated, whether or not they discussed it amongst themselves.
Chernow’s next witness was Detective Tomassi, whom Brent knew he could not crack on cross examination, but that the man would, according to Jack, respond truthfully to a properly framed question. Chernow walked Tomassi through his assignment and work experience, and his discovery of the wrapping and flower food packet at Nancy’s house. Brent scanned the juror’s faces during the testimony. All seemed to be expressing their belief in Tomassi’s veracity. Brent had to be clever with how to spin this.
“Detective Tomassi,” Chernow asked, “Where did you find the cellophane wrapping, marked as People’s Exhibit No. 12 and flower food packet, marked as People’s Exhibit No. 13?”
“In the defendant’s garage.”
“Detective, why was the discovery of cellophane wrapping and flower food important to you?” asked Chernow.
“It was a material that is normally used to wrap flowers purchased or delivered from a flower store. We knew that a similar flower food had been found in a kitchen drawer at the victim’s house, and we were looking for a powdery substance that could have easily been hidden in such a packet.”
“Showing you what has been marked for identification as People’s Exhibit 14, can you identify this as the flower food package found in the victim’s home?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t find any flowers?”
“Correct.”
“What did you do with the cellophane wrapping when you found it?”
“I placed it in a plastic evidence bag, booked it in as evidence, and delivered it to the forensic lab for fingerprint and toxicology analysis.”
“And, subject to my witnesses being called on this matter, Your Honor, Detective, did you receive a report back from forensics?”
“Yes, I received a fingerprint analysis report and a toxicology report.”
“Showing you what has been marked for identification as People’s Exhibit numbers 15 and 16, can you identify these as the fingerprint and toxicology reports?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you learn from these reports?”
“That the cellophane contained traces of ricin and that Barbara Densmore’s fingerprints were on the wrapping.”
Two of the women on the jury let out a surprised sigh. Chernow continued.
“Your Honor, I move that Exhibits 13 through 16 be admitted into evidence.”
“Objection?”
“No objection as to 13 and 14, Your Honor, but I object to the reports – Exhibits 15 and 16 for lack of foundation.”
“Exhibits 13 and 14 are received. Mr. Chernow, you will need to authenticate the reports.”
“Yes, Your Honor. No further questions.”
“Mr. Marks?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Detective Tomassi, isn’t it true that the forensic team you described made a thorough search of Barbara Densmore’s residence for evidence?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you specifically instructed them that you were looking for some type of poison, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And isn’t it also correct that, all the interviews of witnesses that you have conducted indicated that Barbara was at home all day before being taken to the hospital in the ambulance?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“So there is no doubt in your mind that she would have ingested the poison at her residence, isn’t that correct?”
“Objection, calls for speculation,” Chernow interjected.
“He can answer if he has an opinion,” said the Judge. “Detective Tomassi, answer the question if you can.”
“No, sir, there is no doubt in my mind that it occurred at her residence.”
“Is it also true that, at her residence, your forensic team found no traces of ricin?”
“Yes, that is true.”
“And they also found no traces of any poison of any kind, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“You testified, Detective Tomassi that, as a result of a search of Mrs. Haskins’ house that you did find cellophane wrapping in her garbage can with traces of ricin on it, is that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“And this cellophane wrapping had no fingerprints on it besides the victim’s, Barbara Densmore, isn’t that correct?”
“That is correct.”
“This means that, if anyone had wiped the cellophane clean, they would have done so only before Barbara Densmore handled it, isn’t that correct?”
“Objection, calls for speculation,” said Chernow.
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the question.”
“You didn’t find any flowers at Mrs. Haskins’ residence, did you Detective?”
“No.”
“And you found no evidence of any ricin or ricin manufacture at her home, did you?”
“Besides the flower wrapping and flower food, no.”
“And you were careful not to handle the wrapping, putting it in an evidence bag and booking it as evidence because of your procedures in handling evidence, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, and because of the potentially dangerous toxins we were looking for.”
“You follow these procedures to make sure there is no evidence tampering or contamination, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Isn’t there a procedure to contain a crime scene as well?”
“Yes, there is.”
“That’s why we see on TV the police putting up yellow tape, right?”
Several members of the jury chuckled.
“That’s right.”
“The procedure is to make sure that no potential evidence at a crime scene is tampered with or contaminated, right?”
“Right.”
“And, when you are investigating a crime scene, nobody but Sheriff’s personnel are allowed at the scene, to make sure none of the potential evidence is comprised, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“You were the first officer to arrive on the scene the night of Barbara Densmore’s death, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And your team put up that yellow tape in front of her house, just like on TV, didn’t they?”
“Yes.”
“To keep people out, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But when you arrived, there was someone else already inside Ms. Densmore’s residence, wasn’t there?”
“Yes, Frances Templeton was there.”
“You detained her at gunpoint, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, until I was convinced that she wasn’t a threat to my safety.”
“How did Ms. Templeton get into Barbara Densmore’s house?”
“She had a key.”
* * *
Chernow next called a virtual parade of police officers as witnesses, who testified how they had secured the crime scene, and the forensic team who had combed Densmore’s house for evidence. Brent put them through a cursory cross examination, but most of them had really nothing to add to the case, and certainly nothing damaging.
Then he called Dr. Fernando Medina, a poison expert, whom Brent agreed was qualified to testify. Medina looked like he had been born to be a scientist, as if he were more comfortable with a test tube in his hand than by his side or in his pocket. He was clean cut, average looking, with plain brown hair and plainer brown eyes.
“Dr. Medina, how exactly is ricin made?”
Although introverted and lacking in social skills, Dr. Medina spoke to the jury in a very non-technical manner that made it easy for the jurors to understand.
“Without going into the actual technicalities of it, it is made from the castor bean. After the beans are put into an oil press to extract castor oil, the “cake,” or crushed part of the beans that is left over is pounded into a powder, which contains ricin, and is lethal unless put through an autoclave.”
“Are castor beans difficult to come by?”
“Why no. Anyone can buy castor beans from just about any seed dealer.”
“And is it difficult to pound the leftover bean mash into a powder?”
“Not at all. Anyone can do that as well. You just have to wear protective clothing like gloves and a protective mask; the type they have in any high school science class.”
Brent barreled ahead on cross examination. “Dr. Medina, you say that anyone can make ricin, is that correct?”
“Yes, anyone can.”
“Isn’t it true that you have to possess a degree of scientific knowledge in chemistry to refine the ricin powder?”
“Actually no. After ten minutes of Internet research, anyone with a computer can learn how to make ricin. And, as I said before, the beans are easy to come by and there’s no special equipment required besides an oil press and protective clothing.”
“Move to strike after ‘no’ Your Honor.”
“Denied.”
It turned out to be a terrible mistake, the classic one that lawyers are taught in law school never to make. Never ask a question that you do not know the answer to; especially of an expert.
Chernow next called Thomas Benton, who was qualified to testify as a forensics expert, and described, with the aid of computer modeling, how the flower food package containing ricin in the bouquet was rigged to explode and distribute its poisonous payload to the unsuspecting victim who unwrapped the flower package.
Benton had big, curious hazel eyes, as if he was always on the lookout for a new discovery. He had a few hours’ worth of grey stubble on his chin that gave away his age and the fact that he colored his dark brown hair.
“Mr. Benton, can you explain the expertise that was required to rig this package to explode?”
“There was no expertise required at all. It was a very crude device. The perpetrator simply used an empty flower food package, filled it with ricin, using protective clothing I assume, and taped it to the plastic wrapping here,” he said, pointing to his computer model diagram on the screen. “When the cellophane was ripped open, the package would naturally empty its contents. Being a fine powder, it would naturally become airborne.”
Brent made his points here in cross examination.
“If the package was rigged to explode as you described, isn’t it true that the powder would have been distributed over a large area?”
“Normally, yes.”
“And you would expect at the death scene there would be traces of powder on the floor and on the victim’s clothes, would you not?”
“You would, yes, unless somebody had cleaned it up.”
“Interesting you should mention that because, if somebody had cleaned it up with, for example, a vacuum cleaner, wouldn’t you expect to find traces of the powder left on the floor?”
“Yes, unless it had also been washed.”
“And wouldn’t you expect to find the powder in the vacuum cleaner bag and apparatus?”
“Yes, unless of course, that had also been thoroughly cleaned.”
“So, unless the site of the explosion had been meticulously washed, you would expect to find some traces of ricin, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
Chernow next called Thomas Finlay, the fingerprint expert, who looked at the jury with squinty ashen eyes through thick glasses, as if he had already worn them out looking at too many fingerprints. Finlay testified that the fingerprints on the wrapper matched those of Barbara Densmore’s. On cross examination, he admitted, matter-of-factly, that there no fingerprints of Nancy’s found on the wrap, or anyone else’s besides Densmore’s.
The minutes clicked on into the hours, and the jury, once alert and attentive, looked really worn down. Finally, the Judge adjourned for the day. And sure enough, Brent noticed upon leaving that Frances Templeton was there, in what had surely become her season ticket seat.
