Undue Influence (40 page)

“Yeah. I have.”

“Can you tell us what caliber it is?”

“It’s a nine-millimeter Luger.”

“The same as the bullet in the other bag?”

“That’s right.”

“Is there any way that you can tell whether this bullet and this cartridge were at one time part of the same loaded or complete bullet?”

“Very difficult,” he says. “Particularly with a nine-millimeter parabellum. Because they don’t generally crimp the round when they load em.”

“What do you mean by crimp the round’?”

“When you load a cartridge, the last step in the process is called seating the bullet. This can be done manually, with a loading press, or by a machine in a plant. Either way, when the bullet is seated, the die, the part that presses it into the cartridge casing, either crimps the edge of the casing a little around the bullet to hold it or it doesn’t.

On the nine-millimeter most dies don’t crimp.”

“Why is that significant?”

“If the casing is crimped, it’s difficult, but there’s a chance that you can match up irregularities around the mouth of the casing with impressions left on the bullet where it’s crimped. If it ain’t crimped you can forget it.”

“And this one?”

“You can forget it.”

“So there’s no way you can tell us whether this bullet and this cartridge were part of the same complete unfired bullet at one point?”

“I can’t.”

“Let’s turn our attention to the cartridge casing,” she says. “Is there anything you can tell us about this casing?”

“It’s a reload,” he says.

“What does that mean?”

“It means the cartridge has been fired and reloaded in the case of that one, many times.”

“How can you tell this?”

“Tool marks on the rim for one thing. A semiautomatic pistol that bullet is generally fired from a semiautomatic discharges the casing after it’s fired. It ejects it from an ejection port, an opening in the side or the top of the firearm. To do that, an ejector has to grip the rim of the empty cartridge and pull it out of the chamber. This leaves little tool marks on the rim.”

“How many tool marks did you find on the cartridge in question?”

“At least eight that I could identify.”

“Would this mean that the bullet was reloaded at least eight times?”

“Not necessarily. Some of them could have been caused by whackin’ off.”

Cassidy looks at him like maybe she hasn’t heard him right. Harry starts to snigger. Cassidy shoots him a glance, and Hinds coughs to cover up.

“Manual ejection,” he says. “You put the bullet in the magazine, maybe with others, and then manually you work the bolt or the return back and forth, seating the bullets in the chamber and ejecting them one at time, without firing. Sometimes people do this to make sure a gun won’t jam when they go to fire it. In the trade, some people call it whackin’ off.”

“No need to explain,” she tells him.

Knowing Nico, he might show the jury.

“But how do you know that all the tool marks on this casing weren’t caused by manual ejection?”

“Because there’s other marks that tell us it’s a reload.”

“What kind of marks?”

“There’s stress and metal fatigue that you can see under a microscope, and what we call sizing marks, along the side of the cartridge. Bullet casings are usually made of brass or some other soft metal. They tend to expand when fired. Once they’re ejected, you ain’t gonna get em back into the chamber of the weapon unless you first put em in a sizing die and press them back down to size. When you do this, to reload the round, it leaves stress marks on the cartridge. Also, the end of the casing, the part that hits up against the breechblock, will start to show wear after it’s been fired a few times. On this one you can barely read the word Luger.”

“What does that tell you, Mr. Perone?”

“That tells me that the casing in your hand has been fired more times than some pimp’s pecker,” he says. Perone is Harry’s kind of witness.

“Wonderful.” A pained look from Morgan, like see what the state gives her to work with. “Let’s keep it on a professional plane,” says Woodruff.

“Sorry, your honor.” Nico gives the judge a grin.

“Assuming someone didn’t have the equipment to reload this type of ammunition, is it possible for a man or woman to obtain this kind of reloaded ammunition?”

“Sure. You can get it at any shooting range. Some gun shops sell reloads. You can pick it up at gun shows by the bushel. A million places,” he says. This is the critical point that Cassidy is making with this witness that anybody, including Laurel, could have obtained the bullet that killed Melanie Vega. “So there’s no way to tell where this ammunition might have come from?”

“Not really.”

“Let me ask you, is there any way to tell what kind of gun this bullet was fired from?”

“We know that at one time or another it was fired from at least four different firearms. Tool marks, ejection marks, will sometimes give you a clue as to the make of gun. In this case there’s too many marks, some over others. There’s no way with a bullet that has seen that much wear.”

“So you couldn’t tell us the make or model of the weapon used to kill Melanie Vega?”

“No.”

“If the gun were found, would it be possible to do a comparison to match the bullet to the firearm?”

“Oh, sure. There’s enough of the bullet there. But we’d have to have the gun. Then we could try and do a match.”

Cassidy doing a lot of nodding, the message clear, of course they have no gun because the killer got rid of it. “Mr. Perone, have you ever performed gunpowder-residue tests?”

“Yes.”

“Can you explain to the jury what such tests are designed to do?”

The hair on my neck starts to rise.

“
GSR
is used to determine if nitrates or other residues from the discharge of a firearm have deposited themselves on the hands, face, or clothing of a suspect. The residues can be chemically collected and removed for testing.”

“And let me ask you did your office try to perform gunpowder-residue tests on the defendant, Laurel Vega, immediately following her arrest and removal to Capital County?”

“Your honor, may we approach?” I’m on my feet.

Woodruff waves us on, a sidebar to the other side of the bench, away from the witness. “What are you getting into, Ms. Cassidy? Remember we talked about inferences,” says the judge. There’s a lot of whispering at the bench, hands shading the side of mouths. “I haven’t said a thing about what happened to her hands,” says Morgan.

“But you’re getting pretty close,” I say.

“Your honor, we should have the right to ask the witness whether he was able to do
GSR
, and if not, why,” she says. “Nothing more. Just that.”

“Oh, sure,” I say. “The defendant slopped her hands in solvents. Now, we don’t mean to infer anything by this, but it sure as hell screwed up our gunpowder tests. Sure, just let the jury form its own conclusions.”

“Isn’t that what it’s all about?” She looks at me and smiles.

“I’m inclined,” says Woodruff, “to let her ask. But keep it short narrow,” he says. I’m rolling my eyes.

We’re back to the tables.

“Did your office try to perform gunpowder-residue tests on the defendant, Laurel Vega, immediately following her arrest and removal to Capital County?”

“Yes.”

“And were you able to do so?”

“No.”

“Can you tell the court why not?”

“The defendant’s hands had been chemically burned. Some laundry solvents had gotten all over them. Under the circumstances they were contaminated and
GSR
tests weren’t possible.”

“These chemicals would interfere with the tests is that right? Make it impossible to detect gunpowder residue?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“Ms. Cassidy, you’re treading,” says Woodruff.

She looks at him. “I’ll withdraw the question,” she says. “I have nothing more of this witness.”

I’m chomping at the bit when I get to my feet.

“Mr. Perone, let me ask you you say that
GSR
tests are generally used to detect gunpowder residue from the clothing, hands, and face of a suspect. Is that right?” He makes a face. “Yeah. More or less,” he says.

“Well, are they or aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They are.”

“Did you perform
GSR
tests on Laurel Vega’s clothing after her ar rest?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you find any gunpowder residue, any evidence on her clothing that she had recently fired a firearm?”

“Objection. Exceeds the scope of direct,” says Cassidy. “Your honor, I limited my questions to the defendant’s hands.”

“She questioned the witness about gunpowder residue,” I say. “She opened the issue.”

Morgan’s getting into it with Woodruff, telling the judge that if I want to get into other areas I can call the witness in my own case-in-chief. “Overruled,” says Woodruff. “The witness will answer the question.” A and lesson to Cassidy, one walk too many on the wild side with Chuckles. “Mr. Perone, did you find evidence of gunpowder residue on Laurel Vega’s clothing immediately following her arrest?”

“No.”

“After her arrest did you examine the area around the defendant’s face and neck for evidence of gunpowder residue?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t hear you,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“And did you find any gunpowder residue on her face and neck indicating that she might have recently discharged a firearm?”

“No. But it had been a few days since the shooting to the point of arrest. She probably showered or bathed.”

I look at Cassidy. She is steaming at the table, looking at Woodruff, optic slits that could kill.

“Mr. Perone, I call your attention to the little marks on the bullet.

I think the district attorney referred to them as little ridges. Do you remember these?”

“Yeah.”

“You said that you weren’t sure how these were caused, but that it might have been the result of rust in the barrel of the firearm, is that correct?”

“One theory,” he says. “Unless you got a better one.”

“I’m not here to answer questions,” I say. “You are.”

Nico wipes some more sweat from his brow.

“Let me ask you, are you aware of small fragments of metal found in the fatal wound of the deceased, Melanie Vega?”

“Objection,” says Cassidy. “Exceeds the scope of direct.”

“I’m working on the little ridges, your honor. I think I can demonstrate a connection.”

“If you can,” says Woodruff, “subject to a motion to strike. Keep it short,” he says. “Did you ever see a report regarding these metal fragments, Mr. Perone?

The ones found in the victim?”

“Yeah.”

“Were the fragments sent to your office for analysis?”

“Metallurgy,” he says. “They consulted with us.”

“And did you have an opinion as to the origins of these fragments?”

He makes a face. “Low-quality steel,” he says. “Bullet could have passed through something.”

“Where?” I say. “The victim was completely unclothed at the time she was shot. The bullet wasn’t fired from outside, through a screen, was it?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Nothing was found at the scene with a bullet hole in it. Did you find a metal object that was shot up?”

“No.”

“Well, then, where did these metal fragments come from?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he says.

“You’re the expert,” I tell him.

“They don’t give out crystal balls at the
FBI
ballistics lab,” he says.

“You guys got the corner on those.” Nico does a gesture with one hand to his crotch, grabbing, something from Michael Jackson. This is all down below the railing of the witness box, where the jury can’t see it. When pushed on the stand, Nico will show you his credentials a charter member of fuck-the-lawyers club. “So you think it was something that the bullet passed through on its way to the target that caused these metal fragments to be deposited in the wound?”

“Been known to happen,” he says.

“These, the fragments, are described as microscopic threads of lowcarbon steel?”

“That’s what they say,” says Perone.

“Metallurgy?”

“Yeah.”

I take a little walk in front of the witness stand some posturing for effect. “As a ballistics expert, is it safe to say that you come into contact with a good many assorted items besides guns and bullets?”

“Like what?” he says. “Like explosive devices, silencers, Taser weapons that fire projectiles?”

“We see some of those.”

“So you have pretty broad expertise?”

“You could say that,” he says. “You can’t generally buy this stuff? I mean, a good time-delay bomb or something detonated by remote control?” I say. “Still, some people make them, don’t they?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “You can buy how-to books, get articles in the Soldier of Fortune press. If you’re good with your hands,” he says, “and you don’t splatter yourself all over the ceiling, you might make a bomb that works.”

“Your honor.” Cassidy’s out of her chair. “Unless I’ve missed something, the victim wasn’t killed by a bomb.”

“If you could bear with me, your honor.”

Woodruff motions with his hands, like hurry up.

“So all this stuff bombs and silencers can be handmade if you have some skill and know what you’re doing?”

“Sure.”

“For example, if somebody came up to you and asked you how to make a silencer, what would you tell them?”

“For starters that possession’s illegal,” he says.

“Of course. But just as an example, if you wanted to, you could tell them how to make one, couldn’t you.”

“Sure.”

“How?”

“Right here?” he says.

“Why not? The information’s not illegal, is it?”

“No.”

I motion for him to go on.

“You get two pieces of metal tubing,” he says. “One quite a bit larger in diameter than the other. You drill a lot of holes in the smaller tube, like Swiss cheese,” he says. “Then you put the smaller tube inside of the bigger one. You gotta leave an air pocket between em. You find some way to fasten the two pieces of tube together, usually some kind of a flange. The inside tube has to be just a little bigger than the bore on the barrel of the firearm. You figure a way to fasten it to the end of the barrel. Usually threaded.”