Last dance, p.20
Last Dance, page 20
“Did you find any other prints on the knife that matched my client’s?”
“No.”
I displayed another print on the flat screen. “Was this also in the police report?”
“Yes. It was lifted from the same knife.” Sridar confirmed that he had compared the prints to César’s. “In my professional judgment, at least one other person handled the knife.”
So far, so good. I put a second print on the screen. “Was this also taken from the knife?”
“Yes.”
“Were you able to make a determination as to whether it matched my client’s prints?”
“Unfortunately, the print was too smudged to make a positive identification.”
“Is it therefore possible that a second person other than my client handled this knife?”
“In my opinion, it is.”
More progress. “Did you review all of the fingerprints included in the police reports?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find any fingerprints on the decedent’s person, clothing, or belongings that matched those of my client, César Ochoa?”
“None.”
“No further questions.”
“Cross-exam, Ms. O’Neal?” the judge asked.
“We have no questions for this witness, Your Honor,” she said.
Rolanda was at the lectern a moment later. “What is your occupation?”
Dr. Carla Jimenez spoke with authority. “I am a senior forensic DNA Analyst at the Serological Research Institute in Richmond, California. I have worked at SERI for twenty-four years.”
“You’re a medical doctor?”
“PhD. I earned my bachelor’s degree in chemistry and biological science from San Francisco State, and a master’s and then a PhD in forensic science from UC Davis. My area of expertise is forensic serology and forensic DNA.”
“You’ve been called as an expert witness before?”
“I have testified in hundreds of cases in state and federal courts nationwide as well as in federal and military courts.”
You’re very good at your job.
Carla was our go-to expert on DNA. Rosie’s classmate at Mercy High School had graduated second in her class, worked her way through State, and was accepted into UCLA Medical School. She deferred her admission to work in a research lab in the Department of Forensic Science at UC Davis, where her professor offered her a scholarship to earn a master’s and then a PhD. She went to work at SERI, the preeminent lab for DNA analysis in Northern California. She was testifying pro bono as a favor to Rosie and a promise that we would take her out for dinner at Chez Panisse in Berkeley.
Rolanda moved closer to the box. “You have received many citations for your work over the years, haven’t you?”
“I am a Fellow of the American Board of Criminalistics in Forensic Biology with subspecialties in Forensic Biochemistry and Forensic Molecular Biology. I am also a member of the California Association of Criminalists, the Northwest Association of Forensic Scientists, the California Association of Crime Laboratory Directors, and the Association of Forensic Quality Assurance Managers.”
O’Neal spoke from her seat. “We will stipulate that Dr. Jimenez is an expert in the fields of forensic serology and forensic DNA.”
What took you so long?
Rolanda walked to the evidence cart, picked up an official-looking document, introduced it into evidence, and handed it to Carla. “You’re familiar with this report?”
“Yes. It is a DNA analysis of samples obtained from the knife found in the Dumpster behind For Gentlemen Only. It was prepared by Mr. George Romero of the Forensic Services Division of the San Francisco Police Department’s Criminalistics Laboratory.”
“Do you believe that it was prepared in accordance with highest industry standards?”
“I do. Mr. Romero has an excellent reputation.”
“Mr. Romero concluded that Chloe Carson’s DNA was on the knife?”
“Yes. He made that determination based upon a sample of her blood.”
“We provided you with a DNA sample from our client, César Ochoa, didn’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find Mr. Ochoa’s DNA on the knife?”
“I did. The DNA came from his fingerprint.”
“Did the report indicate that there was DNA from anyone other than my client and the decedent on this knife?”
Carla nodded. “Yes, it did. At least one other person handled the knife.”
“Were you able to identify that person?”
“No, Ms. Fernandez.”
“Dr. Jimenez, did the report contain any DNA samples from my client’s hands, clothing, automobile, or apartment?”
“No.”
Rolanda arched an eyebrow. “Inspector Wong did not identify traces of the decedent’s DNA on my client’s hands, clothing, and automobile, or at his apartment?”
“Correct.”
“You are aware that the Medical Examiner determined that Ms. Carson died of a stab wound to her neck that would have resulted in blood spattering onto my client’s hands and clothing?”
“Yes.”
“Would you therefore have expected to see evidence of Ms. Carson’s DNA?”
“Yes.”
“But the police and the DA provided no such DNA evidence, did they?”
“Objection. Asked and answered.”
“Sustained.”
“Did it strike you as unusual that the decedent’s blood was not found on my client’s hands, clothing, car, or apartment?”
“Objection,” O’Neal said. “Asked and answered.”
“Sustained.”
It was as far as Rolanda could go. “No further questions.”
“Cross-exam, Ms. O’Neal?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Please call your next witness, Ms. Fernandez.”
She looked my way for an instant as if to say, “It’s time to start pointing fingers.” “The defense calls Mr. David Callaghan.”
49
“THEY HAD A CONVERSATION”
Rolanda spoke from the lectern. “I remind you that you’re still under oath.”
Callaghan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, Ms. Fenandez.”
“May we approach the witness, Your Honor?”
“You may.”
Rolanda and I had decided that she should handle the direct exams of the individuals who were at For Gentlemen Only on the night that Chloe Carson died. She has a deft touch—until she goes in for the kill. Ideally, somebody would admit that they were involved with Carson’s death. More realistically, we were hoping that somebody would point a finger at someone other than César. At the very least, we might obtain some new information. All of the scenarios were long shots, but our only other option was to fold up our tent and take our chances at trial.
Rolanda moved in front of the box and blocked Callaghan’s view of the prosecution table. “You testified earlier that on the night that Chloe Carson died, you believe that she had a brief disagreement with my client, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“She also had an argument with at least one other person at the club, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there, right?”
“Right.”
“And you were in charge?”
“Yes.”
“So you must have kept your eyes on everything, didn’t you?”
“I tried.”
“Ms. Carson had a heated argument with your sound guy, Jerry Henderson, didn’t she?”
“Chloe was upset that the sound didn’t work properly during her performance.”
“There was more to it, wasn’t there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. Ms. Carson dated Mr. Henderson for a few months before her death, didn’t she?”
“I just found out about it.”
“And she broke up with him, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know.”
“And it was acrimonious. And he was very upset about it, wasn’t he?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
“I think you do.”
“Objection. There wasn’t a question.”
“Withdrawn. You did a background check on Mr. Henderson, didn’t you?”
“We do background checks on everybody.”
“He has a criminal record, doesn’t he?”
“I believe so.”
“Including at least one arrest for assault?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Mr. Henderson also has a history of domestic violence, doesn’t he?”
“I heard rumors.”
“It’s more than rumors, Mr. Callaghan. Mr. Henderson was subject to at least one restraining order relating to one of his ex-girlfriends, wasn’t he?”
“Objection. Foundation.”
“Overruled.”
“I heard rumors,” he repeated.
“Chloe Carson was afraid of him, wasn’t she?”
“I don’t know.”
And you don’t want your corporate masters to find out that your sound guy was harassing one of your dancers, and you didn’t do anything about it.
Rolanda’s voice filled with exasperation. “Did you report this information to the police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t know about it.”
She got right into his face. “What other information did you withhold from the police?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you consider the possibility that Mr. Henderson killed Ms. Carson?”
“I had no reason to believe that he did.”
“He has a criminal record, including an assault charge. He was very upset about their breakup. He had a history of abuse and violence. He threatened her on the night that she died.”
“Objection. Ms. Fernandez is testifying. And she is asking the witness to speculate. And she hasn’t provided a shred of evidence for any of these unfounded accusations.”
Yes, she is. And no, she hasn’t.
“That’s because the police ignored any potential evidence,” Rolanda snapped.
Judge McDaniel held up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Ms. Fernandez. The objection is sustained.”
Rolanda turned back to Callaghan. “You also got into an argument with Ms. Carson that night, didn’t you?”
“I reprimanded her for showing up late.”
“It was more than that, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“Given your history with Ms. Carson, how can we rule out the possibility that you were involved in her death?”
“Objection. Foundation. Ms. Fernandez and Mr. Daley haven’t presented any evidence to back up this claim.”
No, we haven’t.
“Sustained.”
“No further questions.”
“Cross-exam, Ms. O’Neal?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Please call your next witness, Ms. Fernandez.”
“The defense calls Ms. Sheema Smith.”
50
“SHE WAS AFRAID OF HIM”
“Did you know Chloe Carson pretty well?” Rolanda asked.
Sheema’s voice was calm. “We were co-workers. We didn’t socialize.”
“You also know my client?”
“Of course.”
“Did he ever give you any trouble?”
“No. He was always professional.”
The gallery was almost empty at two-twenty-five on Wednesday. Chloe Carson’s mother was fanning herself with the sports section of the Chronicle.
Rolanda moved in front of the box. “Did you ever see my client act disrespectfully toward Ms. Carson?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see him initiate any physical contact with her?”
“No.”
“You also worked with a man named Jerry Henderson, didn’t you?”
“Yes. He worked the soundboard from time to time.”
“He knew Ms. Carson, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, they had a relationship for a short time, didn’t they?”
“Yes. It didn’t work out.”
“Could you be a bit more specific?”
Sheema considered her answer. “Chloe ended the relationship, but he kept asking her out.”
“Would you describe him as persistent?”
“Chloe thought that he was stalking her.”
“Did Ms. Carson ever tell you that Mr. Henderson was physical with her?”
“Objection,” O’Neal said. “Hearsay.”
Rolanda feigned irritation. “Ms. Smith would have been present for such a conversation and can describe its contents. It is therefore an exception to the hearsay rule.”
“Overruled.”
Sheema exhaled. “Chloe told me that Jerry hit her in the shoulder once and threatened her a couple of times after they broke up.”
“Did she report this to her employer, Mr. Callaghan?”
“She was afraid that she would be fired. She didn’t report it to the police, either.”
“What did Ms. Carson do?”
“She tried to avoid him.”
“Are you aware that Mr. Henderson has a criminal record? And that he was subject to at least one restraining order requested by a former girlfriend who feared for her physical safety?”
“Objection. Calls for information outside the scope of Ms. Smith’s knowledge.”
“Sustained.”
Rolanda lowered her voice. “She was afraid of him, wasn’t she?”
“Objection. Speculation.”
“Overruled.”
Sheema nodded. “Yes.”
Rolanda moved back to the lectern. “Mr. Henderson was at the club on the night of Friday, May fifth, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“He and Ms. Carson got into an argument after she finished performing, didn’t they?”
“Yes. The sound went out a couple of times. Chloe was upset about it.”
“She swore at him, didn’t she?”
“Yes. And he swore at her.”
“Do you recall exactly what he said?”
Smith turned to the judge. “Am I allowed to use profanity in court?”
“Perhaps you could paraphrase.”
“He called her a word that rhymes with ‘runt.’”
Rolanda stood in silence for a moment. “How did Ms. Carson react?”
“She gave Jerry the finger and headed to the dressing room. She left a short time later.”
“And Mr. Henderson?”
“He left a few minutes after she did.”
“They both left through the back door that leads to the alley?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Smith, based on what you saw and heard, do you believe that it’s possible that Mr. Henderson stabbed Chloe Carson in the alley?”
“Objection. Calls for speculation.”
“Sustained.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Cross-exam?”
“Just one question, Your Honor.” O’Neal spoke from her seat. “Ms. Smith, you have no knowledge or evidence that Mr. Henderson attacked Ms. Carson in the alley, do you?”
“No, Ms. O’Neal.”
“No further questions.”
“Redirect, Ms. Fernandez?”
“No, Your Honor. The defense calls Ms. Kelly Ryan.”
“Are you okay?” Rolanda asked.
Kelly Ryan adjusted the collar of her plain white blouse. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get here a little earlier. My car was stolen last night.”
Rolanda stood a respectful distance from her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” Her delicate features contorted into a pained expression. “It isn’t the first time, Ms. Fernandez. That’s how we roll nowadays here in San Francisco.”
Sad, but a reality of life.
“What is your occupation?” Rolanda asked.
“I am a dancer at For Gentlemen Only. I have worked there for about six months.”
“You knew Chloe Carson?”
“Yes. We started working at the club around the same time.”
“You knew that she had dated a man named Jerry Henderson?”
“Yes.”
“And she broke up with him?”
“Yes.”
“Is it fair to say that their breakup was acrimonious?”
“Yes. Chloe was very upset about it. She tried to stay away from him.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“She was afraid of him.”
Rolanda lowered her voice. “Are you afraid of him, too?”
Ryan waited a long beat. “Maybe a little.”
“No further questions.”
O’Neal declined cross-exam.
The judge looked at the clock above the door. “I’m going to take a short recess, Ms. Fernandez. Please be prepared to call your next witness when we return.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Rolanda returned to the defense table and spoke in a whisper. “Should we call Henderson next?”
I considered our options. “Let’s see if we can get somebody to implicate him first. We’ll put him on at the end and see if he’ll crack.”
I picked up my phone and punched in Pete’s number.
He answered on the first ring. “What do you need, Mick?”
“Is Henderson well enough to testify tomorrow morning?”
“I think so. He had a couple of visitors today.”
“Serve him with the subpoena and make sure that he shows up tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
“You got anything else?”
“I’ll let you know, Mick.”
51
“THE KIND YOU CAN’T BUY AT CVS”
Clive Williams gulped a cup of water and pulled up the collar of the gray sport jacket that he had chosen from the donated clothing closet at the PD’s Office. “I used to see Chloe after she left work at For Gentlemen Only. She never said much, but she was nice enough to me.”
Judge McDaniel’s sweltering courtroom was quiet at two-forty-five as we started what was likely to be the final session of the day. A confident O’Neal sat at the prosecution table, her expression alternating between bemused and bored. Judge McDaniel’s demeanor never changed, but I could see hints of impatience in her eyes.
