Robert Tanenbaum - Counterplay

“That they belonged to a woman who gave birth to at least one child and was between the ages of thirty and, let’s say, forty-five tops when she died.”

Karp studied his notes. He actually knew exactly where he was going next but wanted to let Gates’s testimony sink in before adding more. “Let’s move, on,” he said at last turning on a slide projector as Guma stood to turn down the lights in the courtroom. The photograph of a skull appeared on the screen set up in front of the jury box.

“Your Honor, for the purposes of this hearing, may we have these slide photographs marked sequentially starting with people’s exhibit one,” Karp said.

Anderson glanced up at the slide and went back to scribbling notes on his legal pad. “No objection.”

Karp pointed to the screen. “Dr. Gates, can you tell us what this is a photograph of?”

“It’s a photograph of the skull we removed from the grave in this case.”

“What can you tell us about it?”

“Well, firstly, all races have physical characteristics that differentiate them from another race,” she said. “We can see this walking down the sidewalk outside of this building. People of one race may have differences in the shape of their skulls that determine their appearance. For instance, you have what I would call Slavic facial characteristics, Mr. Karp-”

“Very good,” he said, surprised as this had not come up before, “my ancestors came from Poland. So can you make a similar statement regarding this skull?”

“Yes, well, in this particular case, the shape of the skull identifies its owner as a Caucasian woman.”

Karp pressed a button and another slide appeared-this one showing the skull from the left side. Using a light pointer, he noted a small dark circle behind the ear hole. “Can you tell us what this is?”

Gates nodded. “It’s an entry wound.”

“Caused by?”

“A bullet.”

“How do you know?”

“After we disinterred the remains, I carefully placed the skull in an evidence bag,” she said. “I then took it to the Office of the New York Medical Examiner, who was gracious enough to allow me to work there, where I placed it in hot water to remove dirt as well as organic matter, such as any remaining skin or organs…not that there was much. After the clean skull was removed, the residue in the bottom of the pot was sifted through a fine mesh screen. There was no exit wound from the skull, and I was able to find bullet shards still inside; several pieces, as a matter of fact, that under the microscope turned out to be that of a.22-caliber bullet.”

Karp turned to another slide. This one showed the skull from the front, next to a photograph of Teresa Stavros. “Is there any way to match this skull to this woman?” he asked.

“Yes, we call it superimposition,” Gates said. She explained that more than one hundred physical points of the skull had been mapped out onto a graph.

“When we compare one person’s face to another, we see things like high cheeks, or a long chin, or a wide forehead, or note that the distance between the eyes is greater or smaller than a person standing next to them. These characteristics are caused by the structure of the bones beneath the skin. So that when I lay the graph of the skull over a photograph…”

Karp switched to another slide that showed the graph from the skull on top of the photograph of Teresa Stavros.

“…I compare the points from the graph to see if they match similar points on the photograph. And as you can see here, this is a very good match-ninety-two percent of the graph points match those of the photograph, plus or minus four percent.”

“Is this method infallible?” Karp asked.

“Hey, that was my question,” Anderson said and looked back to see if the blond reporter was laughing. But she, as well as the other courtroom observers, was too fascinated by the testimony to pay attention to him.

“You may ask it again in a minute,” Karp said. “Doctor?”

“No,” Gates conceded. “Photographs are not exact. A person may seem to have certain characteristics that may not be as pronounced in another photograph. Also, people gain or lose weight, which can disguise certain physical attributes. For that reason, superimposition is better at ruling someone out than saying with certainty that a skull matches exactly one person. We accept that superimposition has a ten to fifteen percent margin of error.”

“Which is like telling us that by using superimposition you are from eighty-five percent to ninety percent sure that this skull belonged to Teresa Stavros?”

“That’s probably fair,” Gates replied. “And when you add up the other things we know about the remains-age, gender, childbirth-I think I can state with a high degree of scientific certainty that the remains we exhumed in the defendant’s yard belonged to Teresa Stavros.”

Karp looked at the judge and back at the defense table. The celebrity attorneys were all making notes, then shaking their heads and whispering behind smirks, as if they’d seen through a parlor magician’s trick. “No further questions,” he said.

“Mr. Anderson?”

The defense attorney pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling, turning his head so that the blond reporter could see his “good side.” He stood up suddenly and walked partway across the courtroom toward the witness stand rubbing his chin. “Just one question, Your Honor,” he said, looking up at the witness. “Dr. Gates, could these be the remains of someone other than Teresa Stavros?”

Gates shrugged. “Yes, I think it’s highly unlikely, but-”

“Thank you,” he said, cutting her off. “No further questions.”

The courtroom was quiet as Anderson took his seat. Judge Lussman again bowed his head in thought. He looked up at Emil Stavros. “I think the people have established the foundation to allow the evidence to go to the jury, and I will allow it. We’ll let the jury decide how much weight to give these expert witnesses, but Mr. Anderson, if I were you, I’d find some good ones of my own.”

Court was adjourned. Emil Stavros was handcuffed and led away with a look of hatred back at Karp and Guma. “You’ll pay for this, Karp,” he shouted just before he disappeared through the security door that led him back down and through the tunnel to the Tombs.

“Whew!” Anderson said to the other defense attorneys. “I need a drink. How about we reconvene at Restaurant 222 on West Seventy-ninth?”

The celebrity attorneys left the courtroom laughing and arranging golf dates. “What do you think?” Detective Fairbrother asked as Karp and Guma gathered their papers at the prosecution table.

“I think Mr. Anderson mostly just wanted to see how our experts performed in a courtroom,” Guma answered. “How about you, Butch? Butch?”

Karp heard his name being called but he was thinking about Kane’s face turning blue with his hands around the man’s neck. He tried to kill my kids!

The throbbing pulse of the drums rolling across the high plains desert from the pueblo dictated the pace and nature of Marlene’s sleep. Even the people in her dreams danced like Indians with stylized tribal masks of carved wood and feathers.

Despite the disguises, she knew who was behind the masks. Kane’s demonic mask seemed to shift, his body a formless smoke, as he pursued Lucy, who wore a Corn Maiden mask and was dressed in a fringed white doeskin dress and knee-high white doeskin boots.

Butch danced after them in a Great Horned Owl mask that Jojola had once shown her, which was used by the tribe’s warrior clan, while David Grale stamped along behind him wearing the gray-brown, mud-covered mask of a water spirit. Swirling around all of them was a woman, or the shadow of a woman in black whose raven mask covered only the top part of her face; Marlene assumed from the mole on her cheek that she was Samira Azzam.