The Unbidden Truth (25 page)

“Within reason,” Wenzel said after a moment.

“And if the final plans had come in for over a million dollars, would you have had veto power, forced a cut back in the design?”

“We would have discussed it,” he said stiffly.

“Would work have continued on the project without your approval?”

“I think our discussion would have led to a mutually satisfactory outcome.”

“Mr. Wenzel, is it customary for your company to let plans go forward to a final design before you determine a price range of the project?”

“Objection!” Mahoney called out. “This is totally irrelevant!”

“Sustained.”

“No more questions,” Barbara said.

Mahoney was brief in his redirect. All he wanted Wenzel to repeat was that Joe Wenzel had been an alcoholic, that when drinking he was often abusive to women, and that he
had wanted cash in order to buy a piece of the defendant. He didn't specify again which piece he had in mind.

 

After the usual midmorning recess, Mahoney called his last witness, Tricia Symington. She was a thin, middle-aged woman with dyed blond hair that looked as dry as straw, and reading glasses that she kept putting on and taking off. When off, they dangled from a black silk cord around her neck.

She told her history at the bank, and what she was responsible for, and then Mahoney had her describe her encounter with Joe Wenzel.

“Well, he was dirty and he smelled of alcohol, so I asked the security questions we use. He answered them and he had the key to the box, and his photo ID seemed all right even if his signature was unreadable. But, of course, he was wearing the wrist brace and that makes a difference. I took him to the vault, we opened the box and I left him alone in there.”

“Was he carrying a briefcase or something similar?”

“Yes. A briefcase.”

There was very little more to her testimony and then Barbara stood up. “Ms. Symington, had you ever seen Joe Wenzel before that day?”

“I don't think so,” she said. “Not that I recall. I mean, he might have come into the bank on occasion and I could have seen him, but it didn't stick in my memory if I did. If he had ever come in looking like he did that day, I'm sure I would remember.”

“Do you have a record of his transactions regarding the safe-deposit box?”

“Yes. I brought it with me.” She put on her glasses again and looked for the paper in her purse, found it and started to hand it to Barbara.

“No, you keep it. Just tell us when he made use of the box.”

“Well, he started using it in August, 1978. He visited it in October of that year, 1978. And in the spring of the following year, March, 1979, and January of 1980. He didn't visit it again until January of 1986, and then not again until May, 1997. That was the last time until August.”

“Were you employed by the bank in 1997?”

“No. I started in April, 1998.” She took off the glasses and held out her record in a tentative sort of way. This time Barbara took it and handed it to Mahoney to look over.

“Did you compare all those signatures with the one from August this year?”

“Yes. I looked them over,” she admitted. “It was quite different, but he answered the questions, and he had a driver's license, and a deposit slip in his hand, and with the wrist brace…” She put her glasses on, took them off, and looked miserable.

“Did you pay particular attention to his face, if he looked like his photo ID?”

“Not a lot,” she said nervously. “I mean he was dirty and unshaved, and the picture wasn't like that. It was hard to compare the two.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“I just don't know,” she said. “I mean, I followed our protocol and he seemed all right.”

Barbara nodded sympathetically. She thanked her and said no more questions.

When the witness was excused, Mahoney rested the state's case. He looked disgruntled, and Barbara didn't think it inappropriate. He had expected to end his case with the damaging statements from Wenzel, and instead had to retrace his steps
to try to account for the gun and ended on a sinking note. Not a good way to end a case.

Judge Laughton beckoned them and asked Barbara, “Are you prepared to present your opening statement at this time? Or do you want to wait until after lunch?”

It was eleven-thirty. “I'll do it now,” she said. “It will be brief.”

“Good. And will your first witness be available after lunch? I'd like to move this along today as much as possible. I want us out of here in time to do some Christmas shopping.”

“So do I,” Barbara said honestly. “We'll be ready with at least our first witness.”

 

Her opening remarks were as brief as she had promised. She recounted Carrie's history, the accident that robbed her of her memory and left her an orphan, and her long odyssey after graduating from high school. “Carrie Frederick is not on trial for being homeless. Or for being an orphan. Or for being poor. She has no expensive habits. She doesn't smoke or drink and has never used drugs. When she repulsed the unwanted advances of a drunken customer in Las Vegas she was accused of assault and fired, another sad case of the victim being accused of the crime.

“Carrie had no motive for murder. She was making more money in tips than she had ever made in her life, and she was saving her money to put tires on her car and get a tune-up. That is not a motive for murder, ladies and gentlemen. She could have left her job and gotten another one readily, as her history demonstrates. She is a gifted pianist and that alone assured her of a livelihood. When Joe Wenzel harassed her, she
properly complained to the manager. She did not want his attentions pressed upon her and sought to avoid him.”

She was watching the jurors' faces carefully. A few were openly sympathetic; they understood victimhood. There were the impassive ones who revealed little or nothing. One woman, who had appeared hostile from the start, continued to gaze coldly back at Barbara as she spoke.

“Murder is a heinous crime, ladies and gentlemen, but perhaps even more heinous is the attempt of the guilty to shift the blame to the innocent. As the defense presents its case in the days to come, you will hear testimony that is contradictory to what has already been stated, and you will see an alternative case developed that indicates that Carrie was chosen to bear the stigma of guilt undeservedly, and that this attempt was very deliberate….”

 

Lunch was a blip in Barbara's awareness. She couldn't have said afterward what she had eaten, and then they were back in court, and Delia Rosen was called to the stand.

The only thing she added to what she had already told Barbara was that the first thing Carrie did after buying three white blouses and two black skirts was to wash them all.

“I thought it was weird to wash brand-new clothes, but she said she always did. She didn't like the way they felt or smelled until they had been washed. Then she ironed everything and was ready to start work on Friday.”

“Was there anything in the want ad you answered to indicate that the Cascadia lounge was a Wenzel Corporation property?” Barbara asked.

“No. I mean, it just said cocktail waitresses and when to apply in person. That's what we did, applied in person on
Monday morning. I didn't know about the Wenzel Corporation until Mr. Joe Wenzel started hanging out there and one of the other gals told me he was part owner.”

“Were you aware of the attention he was showing in Carrie Frederick?”

“Yes. We all were. He watched her all the time.”

“Did she ever give any sign of friendliness toward him, smile back, or flirt, anything at all?”

“She never did. She tried to keep out of his way, you know, take a break when he got there, pull away if he got too close. Mostly she just ignored him.”

Mahoney got her to admit that she hadn't known Carrie outside of the casino where they both had worked in Las Vegas and that she couldn't say if Carrie had met Joe Wenzel there or not. Also, she had been out the night of the murder and she had no way of knowing when Carrie got back to their apartment.

At three that afternoon Barbara called her next witness, Dr. Takenoshin Makino. He was a dapper, slightly built man in his fifties with flowing black hair over his ears and down to his collar, rather like Prince Valiant's hair. After he was sworn in Barbara asked him to recite his credentials—doctor of biology, professor at Stanford, consultant to the FBI forensics unit, author of numerous articles dealing with biology and/or forensics, author of three books on biology…It was an impressive resume.

“Dr. Makino, are you a coauthor of this article in
Forensic Sciences
concerning the identification of hair?” She showed him the journal, and he said he was. “When did you begin to specialize in the study of hair?”

“Roughly nine years ago.”

“Will you please tell the court what characteristics you consider when you are called upon to make a match of hairs, or disprove such a match as the case may be.”

He gave a lengthy lecture on the structure of human hairs, their growth patterns, how they could be affected by illness, stress or chemical processes.

“Human hair color is genetically determined, as is the length of human hair. Other factors such as dyes or heat, illness and such are inflicted upon it and leave their own characteristic marks.” He paused as if waiting for her to signal that was enough. When she made no such sign, he continued. “Normally a human being loses from fifty to one hundred fifty hairs a day. They are shed naturally, most often in brushing the hair or in shampooing, and they are constantly being replaced so the effect is not noticeable. Often the hair that is no longer being nourished and is ready to fall is dislodged by brushing and falls at a later time.”

This time when he paused Barbara nodded and he waited for her question.

“Can you tell if a hair has been shed through the process of naturally aging as contrasted with one that is pulled out?”

“It is readily distinguishable. In the first instance the root is released with the hair and it shows signs of atrophism. It is withered and aged, no longer providing nourishment to the hair shaft. In the case of one that has been pulled prematurely, that is not the case. That root is intact and healthy. Often if it is a violent enough pull the follicle is detached along with a healthy root mass.”

“Have you had the opportunity to study the hairs under question in the present case?” She passed him the plastic envelope with the hairs.

“Yes.”

“Will you please describe your findings?”

“Yes. May I use my own photographs? I made photographs and enlarged them so that the hairs are more easily identified.” He was already reaching into his briefcase to bring out a folder with his photographs. Barbara put them on an easel and Dr. Makino moved from the witness chair to stand by the easel and point at the hairs as he talked about them.

“Number one has the intact follicle,” he said. “And number two has the partial follicle. They were both pulled out violently. None of the others have any root or follicle.” He talked about the similarities first, then said, “You can clearly see the effects of weather and aging on the first two hairs, at the end here. A little bit frayed and this one is a little dry from wind or sun likely. Also they are both thinner toward the end than at the upper section. The other hairs show no sign of similar wear. They were cut at the bottom, as well as at the upper end. Presumably they all came from longer lengths of hair and were cut for uniformity.”

“They were cut at both ends?” Barbara asked. “Not pulled or broken?”

“Definitely not. Normal hair does not break cleanly like that. An acute onset of illness might weaken the hair but then the shaft would become thinner and dryer. All these hairs were in a healthy state without any trace of the thinning caused by illness. And since there are no root cells, they clearly were not pulled out prematurely.”

“Is there any way you can prove or disprove that all those hairs came from the same person?”

“There are several tests that can be done. You could look for trace elements, for example, to ascertain if it was present
in all the hairs. That is a simple test that a high-school student in chemistry could perform.”

“Did you do such a test?”

“Yes. I obtained hairs from Ms. Frederick's head and tested them and found traces of arsenic. Most Americans have such traces. The cut hairs have no such traces.”

“Would that be sufficient to prove that the cut hairs were not from her?”

“In my opinion it would be. The definitive test is always the DNA test, but that was not possible since the cut hairs have no root or follicle to yield DNA.”

“You stated that human hair length is determined genetically, and these two hairs apparently are intact and have reached their natural length. Is it also true that the other hairs had a longer natural length?”

“Yes. They were cut at both ends and now are approximately the same length as the first two. It is impossible to say how much was cut from those hairs and what their natural length might have been.”