False Accusations (42 page)

As Saperstein continued, it became evident that Warwick had not performed a complete international journal search for lip print studies; most of the information and research on lip print analysis had come from abroad and had been published in lesser-known journals.

“In our lab,” Saperstein continued, “Miss Harding’s sample lip print pattern was enlarged in a five-to-one ratio, traced, and then reduced back to its original size and scanned into the computer. The same process was completed for the evidentiary lip print found on the beer cans at the crime scene. Then, points of identification were marked for each of the samples and compared visually by both the analyst and the computer. In general, if we don’t get an exact computer match, we look for at least seven different points that visually match. So in summary, Mr. Warwick, this was
pure scientific method.
No tricks or mirrors were involved.” Saperstein looked into Warwick’s eyes, which were narrow with anger.

“Nothing further for this witness,” Warwick said.

“Redirect,” Denton said.

Calvino nodded.

“Why didn’t you personally perform the testing on the physical evidence relative to the Mercedes?”

“I was in the hospital. I was suffering from what was diagnosed as ulcerative colitis.”

“Who did the testing of the physical evidence in your absence?”

“Kurt Gray.”

“And who is Kurt Gray?”

“He’s a criminalist.”

“With the same training that you possess in forensic science?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So he’s qualified to run the tests which he conducted.”

“Objection. Mr. Saperstein cannot qualify another witness.”

“Sustained.”

Denton scratched his forehead. “In your opinion, then, Mr. Saperstein, would you trust Mr. Gray to run tests on a case that involved you or your family?”

“Yes.”

“And did you personally perform the DNA testing and analysis?”

“Yes.”

“One last question, Mr. Saperstein.” Denton approached him and placed both hands on the railing of the witness box. “Whose side are you on?”

Saperstein looked perturbed, as if this question had caught him off guard. “I’m on no one’s side. My function is merely to conduct tests in a scientific manner and provide results that are accurate and reproducible.”

Perfect answer; Denton smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Saperstein. I have nothing further.”

Half an hour after Calvino dismissed the jury for the day, Hellman stopped by Denton’s office and knocked on the stippled glass of his door. “Nice job today, Tim,” he said.

Denton’s tie was loosened and dangling from an unbuttoned collar. “This wool stuff is really comfortable,” he said, running a hand along the lapel of his suit coat.

Hellman hiked his brow. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”

They smiled as Denton sunk down into his chair. “It was a good day.”

“I look forward to many more. You’re just getting started.”

Denton stretched. “I’m glad Harding’s at the defense table. I feel very comfortable with our case against her.”

“Me too. And I’m not just saying that. I think justice will truly be done.”

Denton shook his head and sighed. “Tomorrow will be interesting. We’ve got the DNA expert at leadoff followed by Stanton.”

Hellman apologized for not being able to be present due to a trial he was scheduled to begin in the morning, and excused himself. Denton pulled out a crumpled tinfoil mass that was wrapped in a plastic bag: leftovers of his baloney sandwich from yesterday—his dinner for this evening. He had hundreds of pages of documents to review. It was going to be a long night.

LOU PALUCCI WAS laughing, the phone receiver bobbing up and down with the flab on his double chin.

“I’m serious,” Chandler said. “I need you to do me a favor.” He heard a door close and realized Palucci was probably still at the lab and had just sequestered himself inside his office.

“The last favor I did for you nearly cost me my job. Is your memory that short?”

“Last time I checked, you were still in charge of the lab.”

“The answer’s no, Chandler. Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know what I need.”

“The very point,” Palucci said, “is that
you
need something. And that means that I can’t help you. I work for the state, not Ryan Chandler.”

Chandler took a deep breath. “Lou, this is no big deal, but you’re the only one who can do it.”

“I don’t like the sound of it already, and I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

“It’s just a few numbers. Lot numbers, on the bottoms of the beer cans found in Phil Madison’s car and those confiscated from Harding’s house.”

“Why do you need those?”

“Don’t ask why. Just get them for me. You’re not running any tests, you’re not spending any state money for private purposes—”

“I’ll think about it. I need to let things settle down a bit before I go poking around. I’ll call you from home if I have anything for you.”

Chandler thanked him and hung up, then slumped in his chair. At this point, there was nothing to do unless Palucci called him back. As he sat there, he thought of a case his father had presided over, a case that first lit the spark in his heart for choosing police work as a career when he was sixteen years old. He smiled at the memory of sitting with his dad on a pier in Bay Shore, Long Island, going over the forensic evidence that helped put a killer behind bars for life.

Johnny Donnelly’s voice echoed through his head.

“It’s time, Junior...it’s time...”

Chandler picked up the phone, stared at it for a long moment, then dialed his father.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, with the sun poking through the low-hung sky for the first time in two weeks, Denton called Dr. Leonard Ross to the stand. Dr. Ross, a researcher well schooled in the analysis and typing of DNA, had written a textbook on the topic. As a witness he was presentable, though he did have a tendency to talk above the heads of the jurors at times. At two thousand dollars for a half-day of testimony, Denton wanted to make sure Ross’s message got through loud and clear to the jurors; he met with his witness on two occasions to go over the testimony and ensure the fact that the words he used were no more than three syllables in length.

Ross testified as to what the prosecution wanted to communicate to the jury: that the evidence was properly handled and preserved with little or no risk of contamination, and the delay in running the DNA testing was of no consequence whatsoever.

He explained the process of DNA analysis, starting with the protein building blocks and moving through genetics in half an hour in a manner that would have had even a ten-year-old nodding comprehension. Denton was pleased with how it was presented.

Although Warwick pecked away with information supposedly quoted from his own consultant, namely that the delay could have caused degradation and produced incorrect results, Ross stood by his position. He referred to his textbook repeatedly, a tactic that was designed to solidify his reputation as the expert and to ground his opinions in fact. “You’re arguing with the person who wrote the book,” Ross said at one point—which could have been taken as egotistical and turned off the jury. However, it came off instead as his way of defending himself from Warwick’s incessant attack that was riddled with desperation tactics and baseless opinions.

“Answer this for me, sir,” Warwick asked, getting up close to Ross, “why did the lab use the PCR method as opposed to the RFLP method of analysis?”

“PCR is more sensitive. It also allows typing in situations where it wouldn’t have been possible before. It gives us the ability to type DNA with the smallest of sample sizes. All we require is one-billionth of a gram of DNA. Before, we wouldn’t have been able to even begin analysis with RFLP on such a small sample size.”

“PCR...isn’t that the method where photocopies are made of the DNA pattern? Isn’t it less accurate than RFLP?”

“Let me answer one question at a time,” Ross said with a chuckle. “You mention photocopying. That’s a gross simplification to the point of being misleading. PCR is a technique that was developed from the very basis of how DNA strands naturally replicate, or copy themselves, within a cell. The key concept is that an enzyme called DNA polymerase can be stimulated to synthesize, or create, a specific region of DNA. In the same manner, PCR can be used to repeatedly duplicate or
amplify
a strand of DNA many millions of times. So it’s not photocopying,” he said, talking down to Warwick in a manner in which a teacher reprimands a student who was attempting to show off at the teacher’s expense.

“Now to your other question of PCR being less accurate than RFLP,” Ross continued. “It used to be that the frequency of occurrence of one of the gene types that is isolated, the DQ alpha gene, is greater than the frequencies typically obtained through the RFLP method. But, a typing kit known as Polymarker allows the typing of five different genetic markers. When used in combination with DQ alpha, it will produce frequencies of occurrence of less than one in a thousand. In this case, Mr. Saperstein also included the DIS80 marker, which is quite an uncommon marker.

“In general, the more markers you use, the better the odds are in excluding possible matches from the general population. That’s why the odds in this case are one in fifty thousand.” Ross paused for a second to take a breath. “So, I personally do not feel that anything significant is lost with the PCR method—in fact, a tremendous amount is gained.”

Warwick looked perturbed for a moment. He had committed the cardinal sin in cross-examination: he had asked a question without making sure he knew the answer that was coming. But in fact, there was no way that Warwick could have known that Ross was going to cite cutting-edge research and methodology.

“How big a sample of DNA are we talking about in this particular case against my client?”

“The DNA was obtained from saliva residues on a beer can, so there was more than enough to get an accurate result.”

Denton knew that Warwick was well aware of that very unfortunate fact.

The public defender cocked his head. “How big is a molecule of DNA?”

“It’s microscopic.”

“So it’s nothing we can really see with the naked eye. It’s nothing that I or any of the jurors could look at and see for ourselves.”

“No. But I assure you it exists and is quite real.”

“Uh-huh,” Warwick said, as if to mock Ross’s last comment. “You said earlier while being questioned by Mr. Denton that DNA can become contaminated?”

“Yes.”

“What are some of the ways in which this can occur?”

“A number of factors or situations.”

“Can you name some?”

“Improper handling of the evidence, improper storage conditions, high humidity, excessive dirt, dust, things of that nature.”

“What about sneezing? Could that spoil a sample?”

“Yes.”

“Coughing?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” Warwick said, pacing away from the witness.

The jurors’ eyes followed him. “Something as benign as a sneeze could contaminate the sample.”

“Yes, but—”

“And how much time elapsed between the time that the evidence was gathered and the actual lifting of the saliva from the cans?”

“As I said earlier, I believe six weeks.”

Denton felt pimples of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Six weeks,” Warwick said. “And you said dust or even dirt could contaminate the sample?”

“Again, as I said a moment ago, yes. But it would have to be—”

“And when a DNA sample is contaminated, the results that it yields are then no longer considered accurate.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Warwick had stopped and leaned back against the defense table, arms folded across his chest. He looked hard and long at Ross, as if he were pondering what he had just answered. It was no doubt intended as an exclamation point for the jury. “Yes, I suppose I could. Thank you, Dr. Ross. I have nothing further.”

“Redirect, Mr. Denton?” Calvino asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.” He stood rapidly and walked to the spot in front of the witness stand, facing Ross. “Doctor, was the sample in question contaminated?”

“No. Not to my knowledge.”

“Was the evidence properly stored, in a facility where there were no unusual amounts of humidity, direct sunlight, dust, or dirt?”

“From what I’ve read in the report, standard protocol was followed, and the evidence was properly marked, stored, and handled.”

“How does sneezing or coughing contaminate a sample?”

“Contamination occurs because you have someone else’s DNA intermixing with the sample DNA. It’s only a concern when you’re dealing with a very small sample, which, as I said, is not the case here. However, even if it were, we would be able to separate out the DNA from the person who sneezed or coughed from the DNA of the suspect.”

“It sounds very sophisticated.”

“It is,” Ross said. “Very sophisticated.”

“And accurate?”

“Extremely accurate.”

“If a DNA sample were contaminated or degraded by dirt or dust, or any such substance, would the tainted analysis come back with results implicating Brittany Harding?”

“No, the results would either be incomplete or unmatchable.”

“And that was not the case here?”

“No.”

“They clearly matched Brittany Harding’s DNA?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Is there any reason to believe that the results produced by the DNA analysis in this case were tainted, degraded, contaminated, or otherwise rendered inaccurate?”

“Absolutely none whatsoever.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ross.”

Denton walked back to the prosecutor’s table, threw a look of triumph at Warwick, and sat down. Warwick’s strategy of attempting to place doubt in the minds of the jurors was neutralized by Denton’s pointedly successful redirect; he was gathering momentum, which was exactly what he wanted as he led into his next witness, Mark Stanton.

Stanton, impeccably dressed and imposing by way of his wholesome good looks and articulate manner, seduced the jury as he told of Harding’s false claims of sexual harassment. As he spoke, Harding seated at the defense table, rolled her eyes and shook her head.