Rick Mofina - Perfect Grave

“That mark has been removed, carved out,” Perelli said.

“My point exactly. My client states the shoes were dropped off near where he stays, which means anyone could have had access to them. The fact that you didn’t need a warrant to seize establishes that his ‘residence’ is actually public property.” Barbara reached for the file on the shoes. “Did you contact DOC and see if shoes this size have been reported missing? You know all state-issued clothing must be turned in before offenders are released?”

“We have,” Perelli said. “They’re checking. Still, doesn’t mean Cooper didn’t pick them up somewhere.”

“Exactly. Virtually all of Cooper’s possessions have been previously owned by other people. Again, the man lives on the street, on public property. So how can you tie these shoes to him, beyond all reasonable doubt? How can you connect him to this crime in any way?”

Grace took stock of the others.

“There are ways. And we can get started on them if your client will cooperate.”

Barbara experienced a twinge of unease.

“What ways?”

“ S howtime.”

Kay Cataldo put down the phone and turned to Chuck DePew.

The two forensic scientists had been waiting and watching local news on a TV in an empty meeting room down the hall from the Homicide Unit. Garner had summoned them and now it was time for them to do their thing.

“They’re bringing him to us now,” Cataldo said.

She and DePew went to work in the room, making preparations, moving chairs to create a large comfortable space. Within minutes the chime of cuffs, shackles, and a belly chain preceded Cooper’s arrival.

“Mr. Cooper,” Cataldo said as Barbara North, Garner, Perelli, and the others took places around the room, “I’d like you to sit in this chair and be comfortable.”

Clasping his hands together to ease the pressure of the handcuffs, Cooper took stock of the room, the people, and the chair while Cataldo and DePew tugged on latex gloves.

“Please sit down, sir. This won’t take long.”

Cooper looked at Barbara, who nodded to him before he sat.

Cataldo and DePew began unlacing his boots.

“Sir, are these boots the footwear you wear most often?” Cataldo asked.

Cooper nodded.

“Now, on the table, you see several sets of footwear taken from your location under the overpass.” Cooper scanned them, observing the evidence tags. “Can you please tell us what sets among them you have worn most, or still wear?”

Cooper extended his chin to a pair of worn boots and DePew placed his hand on them to confirm the correct ones. Cooper nodded, DePew made notes, put the boots in a paper bag, then did the same with the boots they’d removed from his feet.

Cataldo then removed two pairs of woollen socks. Cooper’s bare feet were in good shape. He bathed every other day at the Mission, near Pike Place.

DePew then reached for a box that was the size and shape of a take-out pizza box cut in half. He opened the lid. It was filled with blue impression-casting foam.

“Now,” Cataldo said, “I’m going to take your right foot and guide its descent into the foam. I want you to press as much as I tell you, so we can get a clear cast.”

Cooper cooperated.

Cataldo repeated the process with Cooper’s left foot.

DePew then closed the boxes, recorded information, and helped Cataldo collect the boots they’d taken from Cooper and the second pair he’d indicated he’d worn.

“Sir, which other shoes would you like us to replace on your feet?”

Cooper nodded to another set of worn boots and Cataldo helped him slip them on after replacing his socks. Then she prepared to leave with DePew.

“So what’s next? How does this work?” Barbara North asked.

“Like fingerprints, footprints are unique,” Cataldo said.

“Okay…,” Barbara said.

“It’s pretty much accepted that no two people have the same, identical foot shape, or the same weight-pressure patterns. The differences are reflected on the wear of the insole and the tread and wear patterns of the outsole.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“We’re going back to the lab to analyze these casts. We’ll compare them with the boots Mr. Cooper wears, and we’ll compare them with our analysis of the DOC tennis shoes that are consistent with the impressions at the crime scene.”

“This technique is widely known in forensics,” DePew said. “It’s called barefoot morphology. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police developed it.”

“That’s fine. However, my client has said that he’d recently discovered that the tennis shoes had been placed in his shopping cart. They’re not his and he’s never worn them,” Barbara said.

“Then the evidence should support him,” Cataldo said.

As Garner thanked Cataldo and DePew, Barbara looked at Cooper for a long, uncertain moment. This was not going to get any easier for him.

O n Barbara North’s advice, Cooper had agreed to take a lie-detector test.

It would be conducted by Seattle Detective Jim Yamashita, who entered the room carrying his polygraph equipment in a hardshell case.

Soft-spoken and bespectacled, Yamashita was a reserved, slightly built man, who could be taken for an accountant rather than one of the country’s top polygraphists.

His hobby was cryptography.

His expertise was truth verification.

Over his sixteen years in detecting deception, he had pointed detectives in the right direction on countless major investigations. He also was involved in ongoing research to refine and improve his profession.

In court, Yamashita was a prosecutor’s dream.

Before starting, he met privately with Garner and Perelli to be briefed on their case. Then he prepared Cooper, explaining the process of a polygraph examination.

“The results of the examination are not allowed as evidence in court in most jurisdictions. So, this is really just a tool, Mr. Cooper.”

“I’ve explained that to my client, Detective,” Barbara said.

Yamashita smiled, then tried to put Cooper at ease with his machine-a new standard five-pen analog that he swore by. It would use instruments connected near Cooper’s heart and fingertips to electronically measure breathing, perspiration, respiratory activity, galvanic skin reflex, and blood and pulse rate, recording the responses on a moving chart as he answered questions.

Yamashita would pose the questions, then he’d analyze the results and give Garner and Perelli one of three possible outcomes: Cooper was truthful, untruthful, or the results were inconclusive.

“Please understand that I am aware and expect you to be nervous. Everybody is and I account for that.”

Then Yamashita asked Perelli to bring a more comfortable cushioned chair into the room. He seated Cooper in it and connected him to the machine. Yamashita started the examination with routine establishing questions, requesting that Cooper answer “yes” or “no.”

“Is your name John Randolph Taylor Cooper?”

“Yes.”

“Were you born in Kent, Washington?”

“Yes.”

“Did you serve in the U.S. armed forces in Iraq?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

There was a long silence as the five ink needles scratched the graph paper.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Yes, in combat.”

“Answer yes or no, please.”

“Yes.”

“Do you reside under Interstate 5?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a job?”

“No.”

“Do you often visit the Compassionate Heart of Mercy Shelter?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”