Alan Jacobson - False accusations

“Oh, I believe there’s much more to it than that,” Warwick said, smiling, walking back to the defense table. He reached into his attache case and took out a piece of paper. “I have here a department memo-”

“Objection,” Denton said as he arose from his seat.

“Where is Mr. Warwick going with this? This is completely irrelevant.”

“Mr. Warwick,” Calvino said, “where are you going with this?”

“If the court would give me a little latitude, I believe it will become clear.”

The judge nodded him on. “Overruled. For now.”

As Denton resumed his seat, he was handed a copy of the document by Warwick, who was now strolling confidently in front of the prosecution table, headed back toward Jennings. A shark going in for the kill.

“This memo, signed by your supervisor at the time, Lieutenant Beals, is essentially a reprimand to the file, your personnel file, regarding your conduct during that investigation. He used such words as-”

“Chandler and I had a disagreement,” Jennings said. “He wanted to handle it one way, and I felt a different approach was indicated.”

Warwick paused for a moment, wondering if he should finish his question, or go on. He chose the latter. “And what was the result of the disagreement you two had?”

“The suspect was ultimately captured.”

“Only after another two people were murdered. Your actions caused a delay in apprehending-”

“Objection!” Denton shouted again, on his feet. “This has absolutely nothing to do with the defendant, this case, or the evidence at issue.”

“Sustained. Mr. Warwick, your latitude has ended. Let’s see a different line of questioning or dismiss the witness.”

Warwick nodded, walked over to his attache, and put the memo back in it. “So, detective, how did this reprimand make you feel?”

“Objection.”

Calvino squinted confusion. “Mr. Warwick, I instructed you to pursue a different line of questioning.”

“I have, Your Honor. There is pertinence to this, and I will make it clear within the next few questions.”

“You have three more and then if I don’t see the relevance, you’re through.”

Warwick, still standing in front of the defense table, looked over toward Jennings. “Detective, how did you feel toward Ryan Chandler after this incident?”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t have invited him over for a barbecue.”

Denton clenched his jaw again; he did not want to keep objecting, as it might appear to the jury that he was trying to hide something. He only hoped that Chandler and the crime lab incident did not come up. If anything could confuse a jury, divert them from the real issue, it was impropriety in the procedure of handling evidence. It could set the stage for challenging the saliva and DNA findings later.

“A barbecue. No,” Warwick replied. “I would say not. And now, with Chandler the private investigator on the Madison case, was there even the hint of revenge in your mind, a sense of satisfaction, of enjoyment in arresting his client, Phillip Madison?”

Jennings hesitated a second, looked down at the railing for a moment. “I am a professional, sir. What happened in the past is in the past. I was only concerned with the present and apprehending the right suspect in this case.”

Denton spread his hands out in front of him and looked at Calvino.

“Mr. Warwick,” Calvino said, “you should take Detective Jennings’s advice and leave the past in the past, where it belongs. I believe you’re finished with this witness.”

“But that was only two questions. You said I had three.”

“Math was never my strength, Mr. Warwick. The law was and still is, and I see no relevance to the line of questioning you’re pursuing.”

To Denton, however, it was quite clear: Warwick wanted to discredit Jennings in any way possible. He could not break him with direct questioning, so he tried to dredge up something out of Jennings’s past. A skeleton in the closet. Although Calvino did not know where Warwick was headed, Denton was glad that the judge’s command of mathematics was admittedly weak.

Denton’s second witness, Stuart Saperstein, was a bit more polished in his delivery than was Jennings. He came off as articulate, thoughtful, and reflective.

Testifying as to the physical evidence found on the Mercedes, he established the fact that it was the car used in the murder of both individuals; further, he described the method by which both victims were struck, where they were most likely located prior to impact, and whether or not it appeared that the position in which the bodies were found was consistent with the mechanism of the suspected impact. Saperstein excelled in all aspects of the direct examination; he was working well with Denton, as they had in the past during numerous other cases in which Saperstein was a key forensic witness.

As time was winding down for the day, Denton asked Saperstein about the baseball cap found at Harding’s house.

“And this hat, Mr. Saperstein. Do you recognize it?” Denton asked, waving the Chicago Cubs cap.

“Yes I do.”

“Where have you seen it before?”

“It was the one that was analyzed at the lab.”

“And what did the analysis show?” Denton asked, stepping back from the witness box, allowing the jury an unimpeded view of Saperstein.

“Our analysis demonstrated fibers that were consistent with those found in the carpet of Brittany Harding’s home. Further, there were hair strands that matched those of the defendant, Miss Harding.”

“And just how did you determine this, Mr. Saperstein? Did you hold it up to a light, maybe use a magnifying glass?”

Saperstein gave a little chuckle. They had rehearsed this. “No, not a magnifying glass. We have special high-powered instruments that are specifically built just for fiber and hair analysis, called comparison microscopes. Essentially, the instruments consist of two compound microscopes that are integrated into a binocular lens so that you can place both fibers under separate scopes and compare and integrate them into one image.”

“So would you consider this method to be accurate in comparing and identifying fibers?”

“Very accurate.”

“Thank you,” Denton said. “Now on to more important matters. You also performed other tests. Tests that were run on the beer cans that were found in the back of the Mercedes, is that right?”

“Yes sir.”

“What did you find on the cans?”

“Saliva, apparently from the person who drank the beer.”

“Where was the saliva found?”

“Around the opening in the can that you drink from.”

“And what else did you find around this opening?”

“We found lip prints.”

“And just what are lip prints?”

“Just as each individual has a set of unique fingerprints, each person’s lips have patterns of ridges, grooves, and wrinkles that are specific to that person. Distinct and intact lip prints were taken from the beer cans.”

“Is this a scientifically accurate method?”

“Most definitely.”

“And were those prints identified?”

Saperstein folded his hands on his lap. “They were matched against those obtained from another lip print sample.”

Denton took a step forward toward Saperstein, drawing the jurors’ attention to his witness. “And what was your conclusion as to whose lip prints were present on the beer cans?”

“The lip prints matched those of Brittany Harding.”

A slight murmur rumbled from the spectator seats in the middle of the courtroom. Calvino looked up and restored order with his stare.

“Those of Brittany Harding,” repeated Denton. “Not Phillip Madison. Brittany Harding. Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”