Chapter 23

The next witness called after lunch was probably a poor choice for that particular spot in the lineup, but it hadn't been planned that way. It was the medical examiner who had done the autopsy on Kinneson's remains. Schwartz apologized to the jury for what they were about to hear, and then had the doctor describe the compound fracture in the victim's leg, which would have made it impossible for him to move around on his own. Then there was the testimony of the condition of the lungs, which indicated, in the doctor's professional opinion, that the man had been alive when he was burned, because the lining of the lungs had been seared when he breathed in super-heated air.

The witness left no doubt in anybody's mind that the man had suffered horribly as he died, and that it could have taken as much as a full minute for him to actually expire.

Schwartz pushed it when he asked, "Could this man have felt his flesh burning before he died?"

McDill's shouted objection was sustained, but the jury wouldn't be able to forget the question, which was Schwartz's intent all along.

Schwartz's next question was "How was Mr. Kinneson's identity determined?"

"DNA was used," said the medical examiner. He'd been told this question would be asked, and been told what the expected answer was to be.

Schwartz went to his table and got a sheaf of papers. He showed it to the doctor and had him identify it as his report. Then he admitted the report into evidence as Prosecution Exhibit C. There was no objection, and a copy of the report was delivered to the defense.

"Cross," said Schwartz.

McDill stood up, the report in his hand.

"You said DNA was used to identify the body you examined, is that correct?"

"Uh ... yes," said the doctor, sensing trouble.

"And did you take a DNA sample from the body?"

"Yes," said the medical examiner. "It's standard practice in cases like this."

"And what did you have that DNA compared to?" asked McDill.

"Uh..." The doctor's voice failed.

"Doctor, did you do ANY DNA testing on the body you examined?"

"Well ... not exactly," said the medical examiner. "The lab does all the actual testing, but they send me a report."

"And when did you get this report?"

"Uh ... that was about a month ago. It's in there," he said, pointing to the papers in Matthew's hand. "It will have the date on it."

McDill glanced at the report and flipped a few pages.

"So you examined the victim six months and seventeen days ago, but didn't know who he was for a little more than five months. Is that correct?"

"Yes," said the examiner, his voice tight.

"In fact, in your report, didn't you identify the victim as 'John Doe?'"

"Objection, your honor," said Schwartz loudly. "He didn't question the report when it was entered into evidence."

"Your honor," said Matthew smoothly. "I just noticed that the name 'John Doe' has been scratched through, and the name 'Gilbert Kinneson' has been inscribed over that. If my client is accused of killing Gilbert Kinneson, I think the jury deserves to understand how it came to be known that the victim really WAS Gilbert Kinneson."

"Your honor," moaned Schwartz. "I don't know what kind of game the defense is playing, but the victim was clearly identified by the use of DNA comparison, which is a legitimate scientific examination that is fully admissible in court. If the defense likes, I can get the actual examiner in here to testify to his procedures."

"The defense likes," said Matthew firmly. "Just to be clear about everything. This is a serious matter, after all."

"I'll need some time to locate him and issue a subpoena," said the prosecutor.

"You can do that during a break, since you didn't bring an assistant with you," said Gunderson dryly. "Call your next witness."

Schwartz called as a witness the doctor who had examined and treated Lacey in the hospital, after the explosion. He asked a full line of questions about how the woman responded when she regained consciousness, and what she could and could not remember. He was able to indicate that she could remember a lot, and that the amnesia wasn't anything like complete.

"In your opinion, do you think she had any real amnesia at all?" asked Schwartz.

"Objection!" said Matthew. "The witness is not a mental health expert."

"No, I'm not," said the doctor, who was obviously unnerved by the ferocity of the prosecutor's questioning.

That prevented another sidebar, where the doctor's credentials could be examined, and the objection was sustained.

Again, though, the seed was planted in the jury's minds that her amnesia might have been a ruse, so she could pretend like she'd done nothing wrong at all.

The judge looked at his watch, and then at the jury.

"Have you elected a foreman yet?" he asked.

They all looked around in confusion.

"Obviously not," he said. "I'm going to send you to the deliberation room, but I don't want you to talk about the case. Just select a foreman so that tomorrow, when the prosecution finishes..." He looked at McDill. "How long will your defense take?" he asked.

"I should be able to wrap things up by tomorrow evening, if we can get this DNA issue out of the way," he said.

Gunderson looked at Schwartz. "How many other witnesses do you have?" he asked.

"This was supposed to be the last one," said the prosecutor, his voice heavy with disgust. "I only have one more piece of evidence and that is the taped confession of the accused."

"Which I'm going to object to," said McDill.

Gunderson gave Matthew a long look. "We'll deal with that in the morning." He looked back at the jury. "Select a foreman today," he said. "That way when I give you this case, you can start deliberating right away. Remember, you are not to discuss the case. You are only to select a foreman. Is that clear?"

There were a number of nods, and a general shifting of bodies.

"All right," said Gunderson. "We'll recess until ten o'clock tomorrow morning." He banged his gavel once. Then he got up. The bailiff's croaked "All rise!" was tardy, and Gunderson was already opening the door to his chambers when the last person in the room stood.

In the jury room, Waldo wasted no time in making his move.

"I'll be happy to be the foreman," he said into the quiet of the room.

"Who died and made you king?" asked Reggie, an edge in his voice. It was just like a white man to assume he should be the leader.

"Nobody," said Waldo, a bit ruffled at the open hostility in the young black man's face. "He told us to elect a foreman. I'm just volunteering, that's all."

"What does a foreman even do?" asked Judy.

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