Blind Man's Alley (32 page)

“I’d have to review my notes.”

Duncan handed Logan a copy of his lab notes, then gave a copy to Bream, who looked a little uneasy. Duncan suspected the ADAs hadn’t taken much of a look at the underlying forensic work behind Logan’s report, had assumed it was solid and that Duncan was just using this hearing to draw the case out. If so, they were in for a surprise.

“Yes,” Logan said. “That’s what I found.”

Duncan could feel his nerves grow taut as he got ready to ask the next question. “Are you aware, Mr. Logan, that a fusion of lead and barium is not sufficiently unique to be considered gunshot residue?”

The courtroom was dead silent, Duncan savoring the pause while Logan considered his response. Duncan could tell he had Logan completely off guard. “I believe that particles showing a fusion of lead and barium can accurately be classified as GSR,” Logan finally said stiffly. “Especially when found in conjunction with a fused particle of lead, barium, and antimony.”

“Are you aware that your belief is not shared by the FBI?” The question hung there for a moment in the silent courtroom. Duncan had them in the palm of his hand; he could feel it. He reminded himself to remain stoic, not let any sense of triumph show.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“In 2004 you went to a forensics training conference held by the FBI at Quantico, correct?”

Logan was clearly surprised by the change of direction. “I did.”

“Do you recall going to a session about GSR?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall whether there was a discussion at that session regarding the fact that the FBI considered only the three-element fusion of lead, barium, and antimony to be sufficiently unique to be called GSR, not the two-element fusion of lead and barium?”

Logan was shrinking on the stand, his shoulders hunching as he leaned into himself. “I don’t recall.”

“I have a copy of the written materials for that presentation,” Duncan said, entering the exhibit into evidence. “Mr. Logan, could you please read the highlighted passage?”

Logan squirmed in his chair as Duncan approached him. “‘Because a fusion of lead and barium is not unique to GSR, but can also be found in certain paints, in brake linings, and in other industrial materials, the FBI considers only a three-element fusion of lead, barium, and antimony to be sufficiently unique to be considered gunshot residue.’”

“Does reading that passage refresh your recollection regarding what you learned at that FBI training session?” Duncan asked. He hardly cared how Logan answered: the point was made. He had the state’s expert boxed in, and he didn’t see the guy coming up with a way out.

“I don’t work for the FBI, so even if that’s their standard I wouldn’t be required to follow it,” Logan said, looking over at the prosecutor’s table for rescue.

Duncan took a step away from the podium, wanting to draw Logan’s attention back to him. “Because you personally view the two-element fusion as being sufficiently unique to be considered GSR?”

“When found in conjunction with three-element particles as well, absolutely,” Logan replied, glancing back at Duncan.

“What’s your support for this belief?”

“My own professional experience,” Logan said, his eyes downcast.

“Are you aware of any secondary sources, any scholarly materials, any law enforcement agencies, or
anything
, for that matter, outside of your own experience, that supports the idea that your view is right and the FBI’s view is wrong?”

“I’m a trained expert in this area.” Logan was finally showing at least a little bit of fight.

“I see,” Duncan said mildly. “Is that because you go to training sessions like the one at Quantico?”

“In part.”

“It doesn’t seem like you paid a whole lot of attention there, did you?” Duncan said, allowing himself to put some edge into it.

“Objection,” Bream said sharply.

“Sustained,” Judge Lasky said, but his voice was muted. Duncan glanced at the judge, who had put his papers down and was peering over his glasses at the witness.

“Do you know what Mr. Nazario does for a living, Mr. Logan?”

“I do not.”

“So you don’t know if he works with industrial materials?”

“I don’t.”

“So you don’t then know whether he might’ve been exposed to the two-element particles by using, say, a scouring pad in a kitchen, or an industrial-strength dishwashing unit?”

“I have no idea.”

“Putting aside the two-element particles you found, you also found one particle of fused lead, barium, and antimony, correct?”

“That’s right,” Logan said, looking relieved that Duncan was shifting ground.

“Are you aware, Mr. Logan, that according to FBI protocols a finding of one particle of GSR is insufficient to be considered an indication that the person has handled a discharged gun?”

Logan paused, as if waiting for inspiration, or perhaps rescue. “I don’t recall being aware of that, no.”

“Were you aware that, again according to the FBI, finding one particle is as likely to be caused by contamination as by firing a gun?” Duncan said, trying to stay methodical, keep any reaction out of his questions. He didn’t want to seem like he was gloating; Duncan wanted to be gentle about eviscerating Logan—he’d watched Blake do this a number of times, and was trying his best to emulate his boss’s technique.

“No,” Logan said flatly, the last dregs of resistance draining out of him. Duncan decided he’d gotten everything he could out of Logan. All that was left was to use Cole to nail down the coffin.

“No further questions,” Duncan said to the judge, turning to go back to his seat. He walked slowly, wanting to take in the room. Duncan had rarely gotten to actually question a witness in court; he’d never had the chance to really take someone apart on the stand like that. At the DA’s table, neither Castelluccio nor Bream was making much effort to hide their frustration with how badly Logan’s testimony had gone. He saw that Dolores Nazario looked pleased, and that behind her the reporters were intently engaged in their note taking. Candace glanced up at him, and to Duncan’s surprise she smiled. At the defense table Rafael was grinning broadly.

The DA didn’t have any other evidence to put on, so Duncan called Cole. The professor had testified dozens of times as an expert; Duncan guessed that Cole made more money from testifying than he did from his day job.

Once Cole was on the stand, Duncan led him through his credentials, which were far better than Logan’s. ADA Bream offered to stipulate to Cole’s expertise, an offer Duncan declined, wanting to stress the professor’s bona fides. He then turned to Logan’s report.

“Dr. Cole, have you reviewed the GSR report prepared by Mr. Logan regarding Mr. Nazario?”

“I have,” Cole said. The professor was leaning back in his seat, his legs crossed, appearing thoroughly at ease.

“And do you have an opinion on the merits of that report?”

“I do,” Cole said. “In my view it is so flawed as to be entirely worthless as a piece of scientific evidence.”

“And in coming to that conclusion, are you relying on generally accepted principles in the area of GSR testing?”

“I am applying the standards of the FBI, as well as numerous states that have set formal minimum standards for when GSR results are acceptable.”

“After reviewing Mr. Logan’s report, were you able to glean the facts on which Mr. Logan’s opinion was based?”

“Not from his report, no,” Cole said. “I had to review his underlying bench notes in order to clearly see the actual facts and not just Mr. Logan’s conclusions.”

“And were you able to form your own expert opinion, based on those facts?”

“I was, yes. In my opinion there was only one genuine particle of gunshot residue found on Mr. Nazario’s hands. Given that he’d been in a police car and a precinct house, as well as around numerous armed police officers, it is far more likely that he picked up the particle as incidental contamination, rather than from actually handling a recently fired gun himself. In my opinion it would be utterly inappropriate to infer that Mr. Nazario had shot a gun based on these GSR results.”

“As to the five other particles, the two-element particles, do you have a theory as to where those came from?”

“It’s impossible to determine,” Cole answered. “They could also be incidental contamination, say from the police car. They could be from something Mr. Nazario handled at his job in a restaurant, some industrial product he came into contact with in the kitchen. That’s the problem with the two-element particles—nobody can say what their origin is.”

“Thank you, Dr. Cole,” Duncan said.

Bream and Castelluccio were huddled together at their table, Castelluccio looking furious, Bream like he’d just been kicked in the balls. Duncan offered them a bright smile as he walked to his table.

“Your Honor, if we could just have a short recess to prepare our cross-examination of Dr. Cole,” Bream said.

“What’s there to cross-examine Dr. Cole about?” Lasky said irritably. “Are you challenging his description of the general scientific consensus in the areas of his expertise?”

Bream, at a loss, looked over to Castelluccio for rescue, but she was glaring at the judge and didn’t so much as glance Bream’s way. “We would like to confer with Mr. Logan regarding that,” Bream finally said.

“Thank you, Dr. Cole,” Lasky said to the witness. “You can step down now.”

“Your Honor—” Bream protested.

“You just put on the record that you didn’t have any basis to cross-examine this witness. I’m an hour behind schedule as it is, Mr. Bream. This hearing is adjourned; I’ll reserve my ruling. And I’ll see counsel in chambers. Now.”

Duncan felt disappointed that the judge had reserved decision; he thought he’d done more than enough for Lasky to rule right from the bench. He had no idea why they were being summoned to chambers, but hoped it would be good news. He was charged up from demolishing Logan, and allowed himself a momentary fantasy that he’d been so effective that the judge was going to propose ending the case, though he knew realistically that wasn’t about to happen.

He followed Bream and Castelluccio to the door in the back of the courtroom, which the courtroom deputy was holding open for them. “You know why he wants to see us, Mike?” Castelluccio asked the deputy.

“Who knows?” Mike replied. “The old guy’s just full of surprises today.”

He ushered them into Judge Lasky’s chambers. Rather than going to his desk, the judge had sat at the head of a small table at the front of the room, where he gestured for them to join him. He’d unzipped his robe, underneath which was a rumpled gray polo shirt. Duncan had never seen a judge in a polo shirt before. Duncan sat by himself on one side of the table, the two ADAs on the other.

“How many cases has this Logan testified in for your office?” he asked Castelluccio as soon as they were all seated.

“I’ve no idea,” Castelluccio said after a second, clearly thrown by the question. “Dozens, though, I would think, if not more.”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t see the can of worms this just opened up.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Castelluccio said carefully.

“How many other cases you think this joker has found this two-element thing and said it was gunshot residue? I write an opinion in this case, say what really just happened out there, everybody ever convicted where Logan testified is going to be asking for a hearing.”

“I don’t think his testimony went that badly,” Castelluccio protested.

“Give me a break,” Lasky said. “The guy ID’d stuff as GSR that wasn’t actually GSR. It’s as simple as that. And I guarantee you this wasn’t the first time.”

“I would have to respectfully disagree with your characterization, Your Honor,” Castelluccio said. “But I understand that your opinion’s the one that counts.”

“You’re damn right it is. I don’t need any more enemies, including your boss. And the district attorney isn’t going to like it if I write up what just happened to your witness.”

Castelluccio was squeezing her hands together so hard the knuckles were turning white. “So what do you suggest, Your Honor?” Castelluccio said.

“You drop him as a witness,” Lasky said. “And your office doesn’t use him again, at least not until he’s cleaned up his act.”

Castelluccio looked aghast, but she kept eye contact with the judge. Duncan couldn’t quite believe what was happening, but he understood that there was nothing for him to do but keep out of the way. “But his report—”

“Obviously you can’t use his report if you can’t use him.”

“So you’re saying we withdraw our GSR evidence?”

“If you don’t, you’re just going to make me throw it out,” Lasky said. “And believe me, that’s going to be far worse for everyone.”

DUNCAN STROLLED
out of chambers, Castelluccio storming off in front of him with Bream in tow. He followed them down the hall and back to the courtroom, hoping to have a chance to update Rafael on what had just transpired. But the courtroom was now empty, which meant Rafael had likely been shipped back to Rikers. Duncan decided he’d settle for calling his client’s grandmother later, filling her in. When he walked out of the courtroom back into the main hallway he found Candace Snow leaning against the wall.

“That was pretty hot,” she said.

“Excuse me?” Duncan said after a moment, hoping his reaction wasn’t showing.

“I mean, as somebody who asks people questions for a living myself,” Candace said. She was smiling at him, looking far warmer than Duncan had previously seen her. Candace was dressed relatively casually, black jeans and a dark purple shirt under a suit jacket that was her sole concession to being in court. Duncan assumed she was aware of being pretty, knew that it let her get away with things she otherwise couldn’t. “Once, maybe twice in my whole career I’ve really gotten somebody like that in an interview. You know, where you’ve just exposed them for what they are. It’s the best high in the world.”

Duncan smiled without meaning to, that high still pumping through his blood. “Are you writing a story about the hearing?”

“I’m not, but somebody else from my paper was here. He went back to write it up.”