Compelling Evidence (35 page)

from the head?"

"I suppose," he says. A grudging admission. "Yes."

"Wouldn't it be more likely that this root would its own accord, perhaps on a comb or brush as it of its life cycle, but that a strand of hair that was head would more likely be fragmented, broken offt' He makes a few faces, a mental trip looking for this nonn. "Yes," he says, "that would be usual."

"Isn't it more likely that if this hair had in fact the weapon, and forcibly pulled from the head ot‐ IM. tm,. it would have been fragmented, broken off ioiwa,.4 root'r, "Possible," he says. "I'm not asking you if it's possible; I'm asking in fact more likely.9' "I don't know" he says. A little evasion. "Is it not possible, Officer Johnson, that if the police, or this jury, to believe that Talia that shotgun on the day that Ben Potter was killed. might very well have obtained a hair sample, rorl a comb belonging to the defendant, and placed it on?"

He makes a face like this is pure fantasy. "Isn't it possible, Officer Johnson?"

"Possible," he says. "From your own testimony, officer, isn't this one might have planted that hair on that gun, isn fact more consistent with the physical evidence gene, than the theory advanced by the state, that the hair was $@Tm in the gun and pulled out?"

He stops dead on this. "I don't understand the question," he slys.

Johnson's looking for signals from Nelson. I get my body between them.

Isn't it more consistent, Officer Johnson, based on this single T. of hair and considering its condition and the presence of if,;% telogen root, to believe that someone might have planted that I ‐‐if %, opposed to having it pulled from the head of the defendant? 11,j@ that simple."

don't know that I can make that conclusion." ,‐Sk. "But you can sit here and draw the conclusion‐make the ... Ie3 ‐,hat this strand of hair was caught in the breech ed om the head of the defendant when she supposedly 11 1The shotgun to kill her husband?" 0 this Johnson offers no response. I play the odds with him. officer Johnson, if I were to reach up right now and pluck a strand of hair from my head, would you expect that hair 'jtt:w‐the telogen root attached when you examined it under the i Ta I FIS 310"Ing at me, no response. i.‐"Officer, if you want, we can bring our own expert, a physician i@o like, to obtain the answer to this question." he says. "I wouldn't expect the root to be attached." is that?" 4;N'‐P,11kt4 in most cases the hair would fragment, it would break j%:w& the root." f111 17. ri Iyou."

Ilikiof starts to get up. 1@ .6,@ not finished." settles back in the chair. your earlier testimony, officer, you stated that this strand was ged in the locking breech of this firearm. Is that a face, close enough.

"Yes." you want to took at the picture again, to refresh your necessary." you look at the picture, Officer Johnson?" it again. any portion of the hair actually in the breech of the from your observations when you removed it?"

"Yes," he says. This is hard to deny, it is there in Mrtf I I an inch and a half of hair littering the open breech. "So a portion of this strand would have been in the behind or around the cartridge, in the breech?"

He nods, emitting more of an educated grunt than a the sign of a witness keeping his options open. "When you examined the gun, were tt there barrels?" 71"

"There was one fired cartridge. The other barrel was @ i 1,`@ that range, in the mouth," he says, "you only need o;;@41@ There are a few morbid chuckles from the audience. "So the shotgun apparently had not been unloaded fired?"

"No," he says. "We've already established that this strand of condition.

I take it then that there was no singeing Of scorching, that it was not burned at any point?"

He looks again at the photograph, the pristine magnified a hundred times, almost translucent in the page. "No," he says. "There was no evidence of scorching or burning?"

"No. I can see from his eyes that he

now senses .",A M "You've established earlier that you are I 14 w expert. Based on your expertise, isn't it tru( hat IN I, discharged it emits super‐heated gases, and that 171r* flood the breech of the weapont' There's a long sigh. "That's true." V "Then, Officer Johnson, how do you explain the 41, or singeing on that sample of hairt' Al There is a long pause, the kind that cat es

"I don't know," he says. He seems

clear , I AA ably angry with himself that he has not *)ovil'to ‐ Mt

"Isn't one possible explanation that perhaps

"S "' _. 4*A there when the

weapon was fired, but was placed

"I don't know."

"You're the expert, officer, isn't that one

"Yes," he says. "It's

possible." ."Thank you." Now I am finished. I'm ecstatic, trying to hold myself on the 1. counsel table. Harry is struggling to hold PTIM W71 17

: Talia has already failed, clutching my arm as I get to the chair.

Nelson is getting hammered; he cannot leave it like this. He knows that unless the momentum shifts he may not weather a OLOTION to dismiss at the close of his case in chief. There's a bemly conference at the prosecution table, Meeks and Nelson. "Redirect?" says Acosta. Nelson gets up and approaches the witness box. ,Officer Johnson, according to your testimony only one chamof the shotgun was found to be loaded, is that correct?"

"Yes." 'vl7hen isn't it possible that the strand of hair in question might JL@Tw; found its way into the empty chamber, and that this might MI. why it was not singed or scorched?"

Johnson looks pained, as if under the burden of one who has Z@,71 seen a friend fall. "I don't think so," he says. Mere is the stark expression of certain trouble in Nelson's In desperation he has violated the cardinal rule: Never ask unless,you know the answer. But it is too late to stop. J r is waiting for the follow‐up. not. he says. shotgun in question was an over‐and‐under, two barrels on top of the other, not a side‐by‐side double barrel. It was chamber that was fired." 71's s dilemma is painfully obvious to anyone who has been A i , this little exchange. The strand of hair could not have 1; 0, the empty bottom chamber without a portion of it passing '7no the hot chamber on top.

They cannot explain why this hair singed, fried like some crisp Chinese noodle.

"Coop, sonofabitch," I say. A counterfeit smile on my i I'm happy to see him at this hour on a Saturday i'us)VOIJ, "A bad time?" he says. "I can come back."

I'm yawning, stretching in his face. "Don't be silly," I out on the step with him now, looking for the morning nowhere in sight. Wet and raining‐chances are the it in the bushes again. Whenever it is wet and

*‐fisfw! this. I've been charitable, aot complaining, assuming plastic wrapper spoils his aim. "I thought you might want this," he says. Coop's large envelope under his arm inside his raincoat, the elements. He squeezes it open like some fish's ‐will1ii 011 are scraps of paper inside, the size of ticker tape in A;I had hoped for a little more organization. "For the taxes?" I say. He nods. I turn, heading for the kitchen. "Come on," I tell him, "close the door." Coop knows he's not supposed to be here. A Y prosecution. If Nelson knew, he would have Coop s had to suspend our infrequent lunches, meetings times a month at a Mexican restaurant we call the Naugahyde booths carved with knives and stained d. and melted cheese.

ZI remind him of this, the fact that we are not oe;;‐I;@ He agrees. A social call, he insists. "A trial ittif" the First Amendment, does'it?"

he says. "Freedom tion?"

4, I tell him that these are lofty notions, unfamiliar t,. Acosta, whose ancestors perfected the thumb screw for molten lead in the human ear.

Despite his protestations of basic rights, Coop sensitive that he comes here, to my house, a place won't see us. "Coffee?" I ask. "Not if you have to make it." After getting me oil too polite to put me to any trouble. "Believe me, I have to make it." In the Ms,‐ i fluorescent light, my face is a forest of black

"Doin' the midnight oil?" he says.

"Harry wanted to celebrate," I tell him. "fir, about the trial." : We finished the week on a high note. Nelson put on his bastics expert. The witness confirmed that tests on the littk handgun found at Talia's were inconclusive in any match the jacket fragment found in Ben. The state was forced to this, to prevent us from scoring points on this issue in our '.. for the defense. It would not look good to hide this from jury.

vlr@ best Nelson could do with his army of ballistics experts t@ to let the jury know that such a gun was available to the .M., @. His problem with this is that there are enough guns in city capable of having fired the bullet and fragment to arm ro7.4Lye legion, a point we hammered home on cross. Ti@@ court, Harry and I trekked to the Cloakroom, where we 7

up under a table come closing hour. I don't know that it ‐so much a celebration as just letting off some steam. Both 4@i@ had been on the wagon since the trial started. U e it things are going well, then?" 's been cloistered from the trial, locked out. Percipient and experts are excluded from the courtroom by order judge. This to keep them from contaminating each other their testimony. In the stress of a trial, suggestion is a 11 force. him know that it's going better than we have any right to but no details, nothing that might compromise me, give edge when we have to confront each other in court. clear that Coop is not comfortable with this thought, the 1 47T we must do battle before judge and jury. He tells me that 7rt@ who do this risk chilling their relationship. 4, ‐professional," I tell him. "You do your job; I do mine. *Vs over, we forget about it. Simple as that." a face at this, like he's heard this from fliends before. ‐, Coop seems morose, out of sorts. I attribute this to for his visit, Sharon's probate. a rolled‐up newspaper stuffed in the pocket of his raint ' 1. Motion toward it. This looks better than crawling around juniper. paper?" I'm thinking about Nikki's phone call. 4461@*@o @Ia_‐ news," he says. He's got the envelope on the now. to go on safari after all, in the bushes. ittle paper filter with ground coffee. Black and ampanelli's own recipe. "I think I've got everything:' he says. Coop's ope envelope. It's filled to overflowing with receipts, th Peggie Conrad to finish Sharon's final tax return.

"Anything new in the investigation?" I ask him. He. shakes his head.

"Nothing," he says. Coo@ s doesn't want to talk about this, but the message Is cl forensics man loaned to him by the cops to comb Sh has

%truck out, This means the case is at a dead end age taxpayer would never believe the number of uns@ plaguing most police departments in this country. Sharoww by all accounts, may skate. "The other thing," he says, "the claim check. I sign of it. So I called the hardware store. An old toastermust have dropped it off for repairs. Don't worry about already has too many pieces of Sharon around him, re of this pain. I take him at his word. The Mr. Coffee is making noxious sounds, the little top gagging on the glue that's dripping into the carafe. Coop's mucking around in the kitchen now, looking, little tidbit, something to chew on. He breaks off bread from the end piece of a stale loaf on the counterto gnaw. "Tell me about the case," he says, "Your little v* I took at him askance. 4 "Why don't you ask me what I intend to do w puts you up?" I say. "OK. What do you intend to dot' I flash him a big smile.

I can't tell whether he is jo shameless. "Do yourself a favor," he says.

"Plead her out. "Fat chance," I tell him. "I didn't sweat blood o cut and run now. Nelson's in disarray. If you would know. It has all the signs of a rout," I tell He's pulling the newspaper from his pocket, the per, flattening it out on my kitchen table to read. "How about some breakfast?" I ask. "No, thanks. I think you may want to look at this lose your appetite,' says Coop. He's got the paper, with the loaf of bread on top. The only thing I can see is die masthead and s@", Camp Town News is a local throwaway used by s advertise sales on tuna and mayonnaise. TIMBE by : Eli Walker. This is one of the local rags that still buys Walker's osyndicated" column, running it on the front page, like hard tiews. The reputable general‐circulation press have all dropped Seems Eli kept getting lost in a bottle on his way to deadfine.

Coop takes a slice of bread and puts the loaf near the sink. My r s hit by the four‐column banner like Moses getting the fiery 9ceri of God on Sinai: LAWYER IMPLICATED IN POTTER KILLING The story is copyrighted.

Coop looks at me, stone‐faced, like d on." I catch the lead, the first graph: corrol crty‐In an exclusive to this reporter, sources close qo the investigation in the Talia Potter murder trial have @‐identified Paul Madriani, Potter's defense attorney, as one of the men with whom Mrs. Potter carried on a lengthy 'and involved extramarital affair in the period preceding her 4husband's death. The police have for months been looking for an elusive accomplice who they believe acted with Talia Potter to kill Senjamin G. Potter, the noted lawyer. Sources in Washington ve indicated that before his death Potter was an oddsfavorite for appointment to the United States Supreme is a rush of adrenaline, a silly smile on my face, the you see in movies an instant after the thwop of an arrow through the character's chest. "Jesus," I say. It is all I can Of. it's true?" he says. I have not said this, but Coop has his own conclusions. There's no surprise here. For George Eli Walker's column holds no revelations. Unless I am he has harbored suspicions for some time that my relap with Talia, while now purely business, may have been ng more in the recent past. came out last night?" I ask him. 'nods. kind of play is it getting?" hope that, since it comes from Walker, the serious press g this like food delivered by some pariah. "The, Journal and the Trib ran it this @ site) isfi ov.‐am‐ n. front page. It should hit the tube tonight, the six‐o'‐4", he says. Eli Walker must be off on the biggest drunk of his ing of attribution on the networks, his name in ligh I pull back to the table and read more. It is dizzying series of shots, all taken by people

"Tons under the moniker of "highly placed

sources." The more stinging is the fact that Walker, by design or t7@'

come remarkably close to the truth. Only Duane Nelson is quoted by name, a single and comment."

Nelson, it seems, takes the court's gag w‐r‐rc‐, though some on his staff do not. Even without names some of these. According to the article, an unnamed witness has