David Kessler - No Way Out

“Like I told Andi, it might. But it’ll be a lot easier if we can get the source code.”

David Sedaka was in his office in the renovated Old LeConte Hall poring over a huge printout of the source code.

“We have a hearing on Friday to try and get it. But I can’t be sure we’ll succeed. Can’t you just break it down into sections or something and work it out that way?”

“Not from the machine code alone, no. That’s why I need the source code. In the meantime I can decompile it. That means I use a piece of software called a decompiler to reverse the process and create a sort of rough copy of the source code.”

“So why do you need to get the original source code if you can do that?”

“Two reasons. First of all, the original source code often has fields and arrays with self-explanatory names like jurorName and jurorList . When the source code is compiled into machine code, these self-explanatory names are lost and replaced with digital numbers. If you then decompile the source code, you don’t get the original names back. Instead you get more technical sounding names generated by the decompiler, like TextField01 or Array01 .”

“I see,” said Alex, barely understanding.

“The other thing is that the source code usually has explanatory notes. Those notes can help some one reading the original source code to understand the program. But the notes are ignored by the compiler, or rather discarded completely. So that when you decompile the machine code, it doesn’t recover the explanatory notes.”

“How does the compiler know to ignore the explanatory notes when it’s compiling the original source code?”

“They’re sandwiched between special characters. Those characters flag the compiler to ignore them when generating the machine code.”

“Okay well we’ll try and get the source code at the hearing on Friday. Gotta go now. They’re going back into court.”

“The morning session of the trial got off to a pretty uneventful start today, with police doctor Elaine Weiner testifying about her initial examination of Bethel Newton.”

While David was talking to his son, Martine Yin was delivering her report facing Lake Merritt on the grass triangle between 12 thand 14 thStreet in front of the main entrance to the Alameda County Court House. To her left and right were other news vans, from other stations, doing their reports.

“Though some observers expected experienced criminal attorney Alex Sedaka to conduct a probing cross-examination, testing Dr Weiner on her recollections of the events, especially after the withering questioning faced by alleged victim Bethel Newton yesterday, Sedaka chose instead to waive cross-examination altogether.”

The white stone facade of the majestic court building provided the backdrop as she continued to outline the events that had occurred in the courtroom minutes before. Her report would be accompanied by pictures by the press artist that had been scanned in the broadcast truck and transmitted to the TV station.

“It is not clear if this marks a change in his courtroom strategy or simply a recognition that some evidence stands on too solid ground to be worth challenging.”

The young man who had followed her yesterday was watching nonchalantly, from the corner of Fallon and 12 thStreet.

“It should be stressed, that at no stage did Dr Weiner’s testimony directly implicate the defendant, Elias Claymore. But it was used by the prosecution to establish chain of custody over the DNA evidence which is to be presented later today.

“Martine Yin, Eyewitness News, Alameda County Court House.”

She smiled at the lanky cameraman, but noticed that he was looking unhappy.

“Okay we had some cloud cover bang in the middle there. It may have screwed up the lighting. Do you think we can do the bit about waiving cross examination again?”

“We haven’t got time. They’re going to start again, any minute.”

“Okay in that case we’ll get a bite to eat and get back here for the lunch-time adjournment.”

And with that the cameraman and soundman got into the van and drove off. Rather foolishly Martine decided to walk across the grass to get back to the court building. However, even though she was wearing practical shoes, all it took was one misstep and she ended up losing her balance. It was not exactly flat on her face, but rather awkwardly on her side, taking it on her left arm. To their credit, the other news crews didn’t laugh or even smile. They just looked away with embarrassed smirks on their faces. Martine sensed their reactions and felt a stab of anger, or at least irritation. But she took a deep breath and rose above it.

She looked at her left sleeve. There was no mistaking it: the mud was visible on the blue, and wiping it would make no difference She could do the report in her blouse and snooker waist coat. But then she looked at her matching blue skirt and saw that it too had traces of mud. She could get them to do the lunch time report medium close or mid shot. She might even have time to put in a call on her cell phone to get them to bring a change of clothes.

But then she realized that her face and makeup were also a bit of a mess. She had her purse checked in at the court cloakroom. And they had makeup in the van. But she realized that she needed a complete change. She had a change of clothes in her car. But that was parked at the parking structure two blocks away. There was a kind of pecking order for parking cars in the vicinity of the court. The judge’s park there cars around the court itself. The lawyers tended to park in the parking lot of the nearby Oakland Museum. Reporters, witnesses and relatives of those involved in the cases parked in the parking structure two blocks away. That was where Martine would have to go during the lunch-time adjournment to change in her car.

But then she realized another problem. At the lunch time adjournment, all the other reporters would do their reports immediately. If she delayed hers to walk two blocks, take the elevator up four levels, change and then walk back, she’d be filing her report a lot later than the rest — and well away from the hour that a headline story like this merited. Also, if she rushed, she’d be glistening and nervous. The glistening could be taken care of with makeup, but not the nervousness.

She could phone the camera crew and ask them to stop by at the parking structure and tell them what to get. But she’d still have to change in the van and that would take time. Also, she didn’t feel comfortable now. She wanted to change immediately.

She looked at her watch again. She still had seven or eight minutes — and they never return from the recess bang on the dot. She knew that if she walked briskly, she could get to her car, freshen up, change clothes and still be back before they got to the substantive questions. They always started off with preliminary questions to establish the experts credentials and she knew that this time would be no different.

So she set off down 12 thStreet for the parking structure, two blocks away, unaware of the man who was walking a few yards ahead of her.

“All rise!” said a bailiff as the judge returned. When the judge was seated, the others followed suit.

Alex was tense when the court reconvened after the short recess. He knew that they were now about to hear the crucial make-or-break portion of the prosecution’s evidence.

“Are you ready to proceed, Ms Jensen?” asked the judge.

“Yes, Your Honor,” said the prosecutor. “My next witness is Doctor Victor Alvarez.”

A bailiff opened the doors to the witness anteroom and said: “Call Victor Alvarez!”