A Perfect Grave (15 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two

C
ooper’s call for a lawyer took it all to the next level.

Grace alerted Lynn Mann at the King County Prosecuting Attorney’s office. Lynn called the Office of the Public Defender on the fourth floor of the Walthew Building.

The OPD scrolled through its network of public defense agencies contracted to provide legal services. Most had conflicts, so the staff sped through the list of assigned attorneys. Next up for a felony: Barbara North, a criminal defense lawyer with Acheson, Kwang, and Myer.

The call caught her on her cell, driving from court to her son’s soccer game.

“The nun murder?” Barbara repeated into her phone while at a red light. It had started raining and she switched on her wipers. “Sorry, I didn’t get that? He’s an indigent street person? Lives under I-5. You mean the guy in today’s paper?” She scrawled notes, willing the light to stay red. “Sure. I’ll take it but I have to make a few calls. Tell Lynn I’ll meet her and Detective Garner at Homicide just as soon as I can get there.”

The rain would cancel soccer.

Barbara called her older sister, Mary, and asked her to pick up her son. He wouldn’t complain about hanging out at his aunt Mary’s. She was a better cook.

“Could be a sleepover, Mary.”

“Catch a big case?”

“The biggest.”

As Barbara drove, she probed her briefcase for today’s
Mirror.
It took four red lights to absorb every detail on the Cooper story. She was a quick-thinking Harvard grad whose passion for law had not waned, despite the disillusioning realities of everyday jurisprudence. She’d handled a number of homicide cases, domestics, drug murders, but never one that had played out on the front pages.

Within forty-five minutes, Barbara found herself in a secured room, contending with the smells of fried chicken, potatoes, Italian salad dressing, and Cooper. As he ate behind the bars of a holding cell, she worked at the small table asking him questions, writing notes on a yellow legal pad, consulting copies of files, reports, and statements she’d requested from Lynn and the Seattle PD.

“So, do you think they’re going to charge me with something?”

“We’ll know soon enough. Just try to take it easy.”

Barbara left the room to meet with the detectives, their sergeant, and Lynn Mann, a deputy prosecuting attorney. Lynn was a veteran of DOP, King County’s homicide response team. Lynn was beautiful. She also had fifteen years’ more experience than Barbara.

“Here it is,” Lynn said. “Your client has a troubled history, with a few violent incidents. He has been known to argue with the victim in front of witnesses at the shelter. Your client had access to the murder weapon, a knife from the shelter. Your client is in possession of shoes consistent with impressions found in the victim’s blood and at the location where the weapon was recovered.”

“But you haven’t charged him,” Barbara said. “You don’t have a time line and anyone putting him at the scene.”

“We’ve got a compelling case going,” Perelli said.

“What you have is reaction to public pressure.” Barbara tapped her pad with the point of her pen.

“He’s had access to the knife and he’s grappling with psychological anguish,” Grace said.

“Which is the case with about half of the hundreds of regulars who go to that shelter. Your case is so circumstantial as to be nonexistent.”

“At his encampment,” Boulder said, “we found other knives consistent with knives belonging to sets at the shelter.”

“Circumstantial,” Barbara said reaching for the
Mirror.
“Look, Mr. Cooper’s indicated that he witnessed a stranger at the shelter arguing with the victim and stealing a knife. Did you even pursue this avenue of investigation?”

“Isn’t it funny,” Perelli said, “how people with such critical information go to the press first, to put it out there, before coming to us? That’s what guilty people do.”

“Detective, my client pushes a shopping cart through the streets of this city and lives under a freeway.”

“That doesn’t make him stupid and it doesn’t rule him out,” Perelli said.

“Dom,” Grace said, “Barbara, we have pursued that avenue and have already eliminated a number of potential suspects.”

“The shoes are damning,” Lynn said.

“The shoes are state-issued only by DOC. As I understand, my client has no criminal record. He’s never been arrested. He’s never served time. And you are all well aware that all state-issued clothing is marked with an offender’s DOC number. I believe with shoes, it’s inside the instep of the right shoe.”

“That mark has been removed, carved out,” Perelli said.

“My point exactly. My client states the shoes were dropped off near where he stays, which means anyone could have had access to them. The fact that you didn’t need a warrant to seize establishes that his ‘residence’ is actually public property.” Barbara reached for the file on the shoes. “Did you contact DOC and see if shoes this size have been reported missing? You know all state-issued clothing must be turned in before offenders are released?”

“We have,” Perelli said. “They’re checking. Still, doesn’t mean Cooper didn’t pick them up somewhere.”

“Exactly. Virtually all of Cooper’s possessions have been previously owned by other people. Again, the man lives on the street, on public property. So how can you tie these shoes to him, beyond all reasonable doubt? How can you connect him to this crime in any way?”

Grace took stock of the others.

“There are ways. And we can get started on them if your client will cooperate.”

Barbara experienced a twinge of unease.

“What ways?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“
S
howtime.”

Kay Cataldo put down the phone and turned to Chuck DePew.

The two forensic scientists had been waiting and watching local news on a TV in an empty meeting room down the hall from the Homicide Unit. Garner had summoned them and now it was time for them to do their thing.

“They’re bringing him to us now,” Cataldo said.

She and DePew went to work in the room, making preparations, moving chairs to create a large comfortable space. Within minutes the chime of cuffs, shackles, and a belly chain preceded Cooper’s arrival.

“Mr. Cooper,” Cataldo said as Barbara North, Garner, Perelli, and the others took places around the room, “I’d like you to sit in this chair and be comfortable.”

Clasping his hands together to ease the pressure of the handcuffs, Cooper took stock of the room, the people, and the chair while Cataldo and DePew tugged on latex gloves.

“Please sit down, sir. This won’t take long.”

Cooper looked at Barbara, who nodded to him before he sat.

Cataldo and DePew began unlacing his boots.

“Sir, are these boots the footwear you wear most often?” Cataldo asked.

Cooper nodded.

“Now, on the table, you see several sets of footwear taken from your location under the overpass.” Cooper scanned them, observing the evidence tags. “Can you please tell us what sets among them you have worn most, or still wear?”

Cooper extended his chin to a pair of worn boots and DePew placed his hand on them to confirm the correct ones. Cooper nodded, DePew made notes, put the boots in a paper bag, then did the same with the boots they’d removed from his feet.

Cataldo then removed two pairs of woollen socks. Cooper’s bare feet were in good shape. He bathed every other day at the Mission, near Pike Place.

DePew then reached for a box that was the size and shape of a take-out pizza box cut in half. He opened the lid. It was filled with blue impression-casting foam.

“Now,” Cataldo said, “I’m going to take your right foot and guide its descent into the foam. I want you to press as much as I tell you, so we can get a clear cast.”

Cooper cooperated.

Cataldo repeated the process with Cooper’s left foot.

DePew then closed the boxes, recorded information, and helped Cataldo collect the boots they’d taken from Cooper and the second pair he’d indicated he’d worn.

“Sir, which other shoes would you like us to replace on your feet?”

Cooper nodded to another set of worn boots and Cataldo helped him slip them on after replacing his socks. Then she prepared to leave with DePew.

“So what’s next? How does this work?” Barbara North asked.

“Like fingerprints, footprints are unique,” Cataldo said.

“Okay…,” Barbara said.

“It’s pretty much accepted that no two people have the same, identical foot shape, or the same weight-pressure patterns. The differences are reflected on the wear of the insole and the tread and wear patterns of the outsole.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“We’re going back to the lab to analyze these casts. We’ll compare them with the boots Mr. Cooper wears, and we’ll compare them with our analysis of the DOC tennis shoes that are consistent with the impressions at the crime scene.”

“This technique is widely known in forensics,” DePew said. “It’s called barefoot morphology. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police developed it.”

“That’s fine. However, my client has said that he’d recently discovered that the tennis shoes had been placed in his shopping cart. They’re not his and he’s never worn them,” Barbara said.

“Then the evidence should support him,” Cataldo said.

As Garner thanked Cataldo and DePew, Barbara looked at Cooper for a long, uncertain moment. This was not going to get any easier for him.

Chapter Thirty-Four

O
n Barbara North’s advice, Cooper had agreed to take a lie-detector test.

It would be conducted by Seattle Detective Jim Yamashita, who entered the room carrying his polygraph equipment in a hardshell case.

Soft-spoken and bespectacled, Yamashita was a reserved, slightly built man, who could be taken for an accountant rather than one of the country’s top polygraphists.

His hobby was cryptography.

His expertise was truth verification.

Over his sixteen years in detecting deception, he had pointed detectives in the right direction on countless major investigations. He also was involved in ongoing research to refine and improve his profession.

In court, Yamashita was a prosecutor’s dream.

Before starting, he met privately with Garner and Perelli to be briefed on their case. Then he prepared Cooper, explaining the process of a polygraph examination.

“The results of the examination are not allowed as evidence in court in most jurisdictions. So, this is really just a tool, Mr. Cooper.”

“I’ve explained that to my client, Detective,” Barbara said.

Yamashita smiled, then tried to put Cooper at ease with his machine—a new standard five-pen analog that he swore by. It would use instruments connected near Cooper’s heart and fingertips to electronically measure breathing, perspiration, respiratory activity, galvanic skin reflex, and blood and pulse rate, recording the responses on a moving chart as he answered questions.

Yamashita would pose the questions, then he’d analyze the results and give Garner and Perelli one of three possible outcomes: Cooper was truthful, untruthful, or the results were inconclusive.

“Please understand that I am aware and expect you to be nervous. Everybody is and I account for that.”

Then Yamashita asked Perelli to bring a more comfortable cushioned chair into the room. He seated Cooper in it and connected him to the machine. Yamashita started the examination with routine establishing questions, requesting that Cooper answer “yes” or “no.”

“Is your name John Randolph Taylor Cooper?”

“Yes.”

“Were you born in Kent, Washington?”

“Yes.”

“Did you serve in the U.S. armed forces in Iraq?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

There was a long silence as the five ink needles scratched the graph paper.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Yes, in combat.”

“Answer yes or no, please.”

“Yes.”

“Do you reside under Interstate 5?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a job?”

“No.”

“Do you often visit the Compassionate Heart of Mercy Shelter?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Yes.”

The needles swept across the paper.

“Did you know Sister Anne Braxton, who worked at the shelter?”

“Yes.”

“Are you involved in any way in her murder?”

“No.”

“Do you possess knives?”

“Yes.”

“Do any of them come from the shelter?”

“No.”

“Do you possess tennis shoes?”

“You mean do I own—”

“Yes or no, please. Next question: Is today Sunday?”

“No.”

“Did you know Sister Anne Braxton?”

“Yes.”

“Did you harm her in any way?”

“No.”

“Do you possess tennis shoes similar to the tennis shoes in the photographs shown to you today?”

“Yes.”

“Did you wear them?”

“No.”

“Did you kill Sister Anne Braxton?”

“No.”

“Did you see a stranger at the shelter whom you saw argue with Sister Anne and cause her to be upset?”

“Yes.”

“Did you witness this stranger take a knife?”

“Yes.”

“Was it similar to the knife in the photograph shown to you today by the detectives?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever have any romantic feelings toward Sister Anne Braxton?”

“No.”

“Did Sister Anne Braxton ever make you angry, upset?”

“No.”

“Did you see Sister Anne in the hours before she was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Did she speak with you?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever had reason to be in her town house near Yesler Terrace?”

“Yes.”

“Were you present in her building the night she was killed?”

“No.”

“Were you present in the alley behind the town house the night she was killed?”

“No.”

“Were you present in her neighborhood the night she was killed?”

“No.”

“Are you being truthful?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever have sexual fantasies about Sister Anne?”

“No.”

“Do you feel remorse about the deaths of your crew during combat?”

“Yes.”

“Do you blame yourself?”

“Yes.”

Barbara noticed tears rolling down Cooper’s face.

“Do you often hallucinate about that time?”

“Yes.”

Yamashita adjusted his glasses as he made notes, then returned to many of the same questions, repeating them.

“Have you ever been violent toward anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever wished to harm anyone?”

“Yes, during duty—”

“Yes or no, please,” Yamashita made a note. “Did you ever wear the tennis shoes shown to you in the crime- scene photograph?”

“No.”

“Are you angry that Sister Anne was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who killed her?”

Cooper hesitated for a moment.

“Do you know who killed her?”

“I think I know.”

“Answer yes or no, please. Did you ever kill a woman in combat?”

“Yes, but I—”

“Do you know the name of the person who killed Sister Anne?”

“No.”

“Do you hallucinate?”

“Yes.”

“Do you relive your combat action in which you kill those who killed your crew?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a danger to people?”

“I don’t know, please, I—”

“Did you ever threaten Sister Anne.”

“No.”

“Do you sometimes black out?”

“Yes.”

“Do you always remember your actions during a blackout?”

“No.”

“Did you kill Sister Anne?”

Cooper’s face was wet with tears.

“No. God, please no.”