Tim Green - False Convictions

“If I had the knife Dwayne carried and if I can show the blood on it doesn’t match the victim’s DNA, along with the other suspicious elements of the case, my guy walks.”

“Where would you get her DNA?” Jake asked.

“They’d have carpet samples or clothes with her blood on it,” Casey said. “That, or I could even have the body exhumed.”

Jake grimaced, then asked, “Didn’t I read your guy was convicted for rape and murder?”

“He was.”

“How dead was she when they found her?” Jake asked.

Casey wrinkled her nose. “Meaning?”

“Stone cold? Right to the morgue?” Jake asked. “Or was she still bleeding? Even breathing? And they rushed her to the hospital.”

“What would it even matter?” Casey asked.

“What about a swab?” Jake said. “If she went to the hospital, they would have done the rape kit.”

“But that would have gone into evidence,” Casey said.

“The rape kit would have,” Jake said, “but usually, when a hospital has a rape victim, they’ll test for STDs and AIDS when they do the rape kit. If he raped her, his DNA will be in those swab samples. If it’s someone else, your guy still walks.”

Casey sat silent, then said, “I kept thinking of this case as a murder. The rape is another part of it I didn’t think about, for the trial, I mean. They should have done a blood test on any samples they got. If it matched Hubbard’s, they would have used it. If it didn’t, the defense should have.”

“Either way, it sounds like the police evidence is gone,” Jake said. “I think your only hope is the hospital.”

“Would a hospital even have something like that?” Casey asked.

“One thing I’ve learned about hospitals,” Jake said, “they keep everything.”

JAKE SAT WAITING in the lobby wearing khaki pants and a dark blue polo shirt that made him look younger than the suit he wore the day before. He stood, holding two cappuccinos, handed her one, and said, “Ready?”

Outside, Casey saw the Lexus before Ralph could step in front of her.

“Where to, Ms. Jordan?” he asked, pitching a cigarette into the bushes.

“You weren’t following us last night, were you, Ralph?” Casey asked. “Because that wouldn’t be necessary.”

Ralph stared at her with empty pupils surrounded by tattered brown and yellow irises.

“I think I’m set on a ride,” Casey said, glancing at Jake. “Don’t forget about the car, Ralph. The white one? Bavarian Motor Works?”

“I’ll let you know,” Ralph said, limping toward the Lexus. “But I’ll just tag along in case something comes up.”

“I’m a big girl, Ralph,” Casey said. “I even made these high heels from a rattlesnake I killed with my bare hands.”

Ralph looked down.

“I’m kidding,” she said.

Ralph opened the car door and, climbing in, said, “Mr. Graham is pretty precise in what he wants.”

Casey shrugged and followed Jake toward his Cadillac, which was parked on the side of the building.

“How’s Dad?” Jake asked.

“Constipated,” she said. “Makes him limp.”

“What BMW?”

“Hubbard says he saw a white BMW the night of the murder,” Casey said. “If Graham really wants to help, that’s what he should have Ralph doing. But we’re kind of keeping that under wraps for now, so if you don’t mind going off the record?”

“Graham,” Jake said. “He’s up to something else.”

The hospital was only a five-minute drive. They got there just after nine and Casey admired how Jake wormed them into the office of the hospital’s president.

“Smooth,” Casey said as the president’s secretary showed them into his office.

“I can’t help it,” he said, looking almost sheepish. “People love me.”

The hospital president, Dr. Prescott, entered wearing a dark suit. They all shook hands and he told Jake how his wife watched American Sunday religiously and that it was an honor to meet him.

“Didn’t you do that piece on the rock-and-roll nun?” the doctor asked. “Hell of a story. Did you ever get a comment from the Pope? Because you ended the piece by saying that the Vatican had not responded to your e-mails.”

“The Pope doesn’t e-mail a lot,” Jake said. “He’s pretty old-fashioned from what I hear.”

Casey looked at Jake, who only shrugged and suppressed a smile.

“So, how can I help?” Prescott asked, sitting at the head of the table and clasping his hands.

“We’re looking for swab samples taken from a rape victim in 1989,” Casey said. “Would you have something from that far back?”

“That’s an interesting question,” Prescott said, looking at her curiously. “I don’t know if I can even answer that for you. For liability reasons.”

“Twenty years ago a college coed named Cassandra Thornton was raped and brutally murdered,” Jake said. “They brought her here, but she died within hours and never regained consciousness. The hospital would have tested her for STDs and maybe AIDS, isn’t that right?”

“I can’t speak about a specific individual, but if you gave me a hypothetical, I might be able to help you,” Prescott said, offering Jake a knowing look.

“Of course,” Jake said, then restated the question as a hypothetical.

“That would be standard procedure, yes,” Prescott said with a nod.

“Perfect,” Casey said, beaming at Jake, unable to contain her excitement.

Prescott moved his hands from the table into his lap and said, “For anything more in-depth than that, I’d have to have a court order.”

“Our client has a statutory right to the evidence,” Casey said.

“I understand,” Prescott said, “but this isn’t evidence. If it were evidence, the police would have it. Unfortunately, in my position, I always have to consider the hospital’s liability.”

“What liability?” Casey asked.

Prescott shrugged. “The family? Privacy issues? I’d like to help, but I’ll have to talk to our lawyer and get his thoughts.”

“Maybe you could give him a call?” Jake said, nudging Casey with his foot under the table. “We’d really appreciate it. We don’t want to put you in a bad spot, but obviously, it’s pretty important.”

Prescott grinned at Jake then swiveled around, removing a phone from the side table and setting it in front of him. “Let me try.”

Jake winked at her and Casey sat as patient as she could while she listened to the hospital president talking to his lawyer, explaining the situation, and then going through many of the facts again. Casey took a deep breath and let it out through her teeth.

Finally, Prescott hung up, looked sadly at Jake, and shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Carlson. As I thought, we’d need a court order or a signed release from the victim’s family to give you any kind of information. We can’t do anything without either of those and avoid the liability.”

Casey clamped her teeth shut and stood so she wouldn’t blurt out anything offensive.

“Sure thing,” Jake said, rising as well and shaking the president’s hand. “Could you do me a favor, though? If Ms. Jordan was to go to the trouble to get this order, could you just tell us if you thought we’d be wasting our time?”

The doctor puffed out his lips and slipped on a pair of reading glasses as he turned to his computer screen. He pecked away at the keyboard for several minutes, frowning at the screen.

Finally, he looked up at Jake with the hint of smile and said, “I don’t think you’d be disappointed.”

WHEN THEY GOT outside, Casey searched the street and marched over to the pewter Lexus, knocking on Ralph’s window. It hummed down and Ralph looked up at her with a blank expression.