206 Bones

43

SATURDAY MORNING, RYAN HELPED ME CHECK OUT OF THE HOSPITAL. Drove me home. Settled me on my couch. Lit a fire. Made lunch.

My ankle ached. My cheek was congealed tar. I had a lump on my occipital that could wrestle as a heavyweight. The Weeki Wachee Mermaids were still doing wheelies in my brain.

What the hell? I needed nurturing.

Over tomato soup and peanut butter on toast, we treaded safe conversational ground.

Ryan told me that on Wednesday results had come back on my Lac Saint-Jean vics. The adult female’s femur had produced sufficient organic material to sequence mitochondrial DNA.

“Did the brother provide a sample?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And?”

“Being congenial pays off. You have a reputation for being congenial. People like you.”

“Ryan.” I gave him the steely-eyed look. Squinting irritated the scab on my face.

“In deference to your recent excellent adventure, an SQ officer drove the sample from Sainte-Monique to Montreal personally. The DNA boys leapfrogged it to the front of the queue.”

“And?”

A grin spread over Ryan’s face.

“Tell me.”

The grin widened.

Leaning forward, I punched Ryan’s bicep.

“Give the lady a gold star.”

“Yes.” I arm-pumped the air. It hurt. “The Clemenceaus and Blackwater, not the Gouvrards.”

Mostly, we discussed the growing evidence against Adamski.

A warrant had been served and an SIJ team had tossed Poppy’s condo in Saint-Eustache. Much to her displeasure.

“A hollow beneath a waterbed produced a duffel containing two thousand dollars.”

“From the Villejoins’ pantry?”

“Could be. Someone’s checking for prints, looking for trace DNA.”

“Prints would be good. Trace DNA is a long shot.”

“Better than-”

“No shot at all. Poppy didn’t know about the money?”

“You think she’d have left it there after Adamski’s arrest?”

“Did SIJ find anything else?”

“A shovel in the garage. A sedimentologist is comparing dirt from the blade to samples you collected from Christelle’s grave at Oka.”

“Any blood?”

“Biology is looking at a stain. Trace evidence has some hairs. The garage was also home to a lovely little chain saw. A botanist is comparing gunk from the teeth to pine logs stacked in the Villejoins’ backyard.”

“Wowzer.”

“Wowzer. If Adamski’s confession is kicked, the crown prosecutor wants beaucoup backup.”

The buzzer sounded. Again. Ryan answered the door, returned bearing yet another gift. I’d already received a gazillion flowers, a pajama-gram from Ayers, and a fruit basket from Santangelo. This time it was a floral arrangement the size of Denver.

Ryan set the vase on the table and handed me the card.

“Claudel,” I read.

“What’s he say?”

“Claudel.”

“See. He likes you.”

Ryan took our dishes to the kitchen, then we rifled Santangelo’s basket. A clementine for me, a banana for Ryan.

“Adamski admitted to forging Keiser’s old-age pension checks. Discovered all three in her purse. After cashing them, he tossed the purse into a Dumpster on Saint-Laurent and found himself a bar.”

“Open a tab. It’s on my dead wife.” My voice conveyed the disgust I felt.

“He’s holding firm on Rose Jurmain. Denies killing her. Adamantly.”

“So the original coroner’s finding was probably correct. Rose over-drank, underdressed, wandered off, and died of exposure.”

“Adamski’s only admission concerning Jurmain is that her disappearance triggered the idea of going after his former wife. That and news coverage of elderly victims in upstate New York.”

“And getting away with murdering the Villejoins.”

“And that.”

“What’s happening on the Joe-Briel-Raines front?”

“They’ve turned on each other like hyenas on a carcass. Ballistics is checking out a Browning twenty-two semiautomatic pistol found in Briel’s condo. They’ll all go down.”

“Was Raines involved?”

“Indirectly. Body Find was his baby. He brainwashed Briel into believing that if she gained celebrity status it would get the venture off the ground. Also, he called Edward Allen.”

“Briel’s a viper,” I said.

“Let’s not be overly harsh. Briel believed she was neither setting a criminal free nor convicting an innocent person. She was knifing some colleagues to promote herself, but that doesn’t make her Adamski, unless you think she really did want Joe to kill you. Also, once the jig was up, she was instrumental in your rescue.”

“Probably to avoid being an accessory to murder.”

“Probably.”

The fire had died to embers. Ryan got up to poke them.

“It’s people like Briel who give forensic science a bad name,” I said.

“Adamski’s dirty and he’s going away for a very long time, but Briel’s actions make you wonder.” Ryan spoke without turning to face me. “How many guilty have gone free, and how many innocent have been convicted because of bad police or forensic work?”

“You’ve heard of the Innocence Project?”

Ryan nodded.

“In the last twenty years there have been over two hundred exonerations in the U.S., some involving inmates on death row. More than a quarter, fifty-five cases with sixty-six defendants, involved forensic testing or testimony that was flawed. And those stats don’t begin to tell the whole story.”

Ryan added a log. Embers spiraled, Lilliputian fireworks in the dim hearth.

“Forensic science is popular right now, and people with minimal or no training are hot to be players. Briel is a perfect example. She learned a little about bones and hung out her shingle as an anthropologist.”

“With predictable results,” Ryan said.

“Whether it’s bad methodology, sloppy performance, or intentional misconduct, jurors can’t always spot junk science. If an expert wears the white lab coat, it’s science.”

Returning to the couch, Ryan sat closer.

“Cops and lawyers have the same problem,” he said. “How are we average joes supposed to know who’s legit?”

“That’s the point of board certification. Every field has it now. The American Board of Forensic Anthropology, Engineering, Entomology, Odontology, Pathology, Toxicology, etc. Accreditation is a rigorous process.

“Board certification isn’t a perfect answer, Ryan. Sure, some incompetents slip through, just as in law or medicine. But it’s a start. Those letters behind a scientist’s name aren’t just for show. They’re hard-earned. And they’re a message that an expert has undergone peer scrutiny and meets a high set of ethical standards. And being certified in one field doesn’t mean you’re an expert in another.”

“Briel’s not certified in forensic anthropology.”

“Of course she isn’t. It takes a PhD and years of experience to qualify for ABFA candidacy. Being a pathologist doesn’t make you an anthropologist, or vice versa.”

For several moments we listened to the hiss and pop of the logs.

My eyes drifted to a bouquet on the dining room table. LaManche. His gift had been the first to arrive.

“This would never have happened on LaManche’s watch,” I said. “He’d never use a noncertified expert.”

“The old man would have seen through Briel,” Ryan agreed.

“I hope he’s doing well,” I said.

“So do I.”

Ryan took my hand. Firelight danced in his eyes and bathed his face with a warm, honey glow.

“Are we, buttercup? Doing well?”

I hesitated.

“Yes, dandelion.”

I smiled.

“Very well, indeed.”

FROM THE FORENSIC FILES OF DR. KATHY REICHS FROM THE FORENSIC FILES OF DR. KATHY REICHS CAMELOT? OR SCAM A LOT?

In this special essay, Kathy Reichs discusses the imperfect relationship between science and the criminal justice system.

“How many guilty have gone free and how many innocent have been convicted?” Why does Tempe ask that of Ryan?

She’s worried about bad forensic science.

A lot of us are.

Today, science is a routine and crucial tool of the criminal justice system. A latent fingerprint places a defendant at a crime scene. DNA from sperm links an accused to a rape victim. Chemical analysis determines that a drug is illegal. An autopsy establishes that a death is homicide.

The forensic science community includes a wide array of practitioners: anthropologists, biologists, chemists, entomologists, odontologists, pathologists. On television these scientists are portrayed as knights in shining lab coats.

No question. Science is powerful. But does it always smite with the unerring stroke of Excalibur? Is every expert a gallant champion for justice and right?

Recent findings suggest things aren’t perfect in Camelot.

Thus Tempe’s unease.

“Whether it’s bad methodology, sloppy performance, or intentional misconduct, jurors can’t always spot junk science,” she says.

Tempe speaks of the Innocence Project, a national litigation and public policy organization dedicated to finding justice for those wrongfully imprisoned. Numbers have risen since her fireside chat with Ryan. As of this writing, 234 convicted persons in the United States have been exonerated through DNA testing.

How could our courts err in so many cases?

Each “forensic science” has its own methodologies, technologies, practices, and standards. There is significant variability with regard to reliability and potential for error. Some specialties are analytical and laboratory based: DNA analysis, toxicology, drug analysis. Terra firma. Others rely on pattern interpretation: fingerprints, hand writing, tool and bite mark analysis. Shakier ground.

“If an expert wears the white lab coat, it’s science,” Tempe says. She is worried about testimony based on faulty science, on imperfect testing and analysis, or on imprecise, exaggerated, or false claims.

Examples abound. An expert in Illinois relocated to Texas testified on lip print analysis, an anthropologist on identification through shoe prints. Neither methodology had been validated. Using goggles and a blue laser, a dentist in Mississippi identified bite marks, scratches, and other injuries that no one else saw. His results can’t be photographed or reproduced.

A chemist in Tennessee, later Texas, routinely presented inconclusive findings as conclusive, altered laboratory records, and reported scientifically impossible or improbable results. A Toronto doctor performed over a thousand autopsies on children, though he never certified in forensic pathology.

Innocent people went to jail. Mothers lost custody of their kids. Perpetrators who could have been convicted were acquitted.

Tempe doesn’t like it. And she’s not alone.

Recently, the Science, State, Justice, Commerce, and Related Agencies Appropriations Act of 2006 became law. Under the terms of the statute, Congress tasked the National Academy of Sciences with evaluating the state of forensic science in the United States. On February 18, 2009, the NAS issued its long-awaited report.

It was a doozy.

The report described disparities in forensic science operations in federal, state, and local law enforcement jurisdictions and agencies. It found that medical examiner systems vary in the extent of services and the level of expertise provided. Given these factors, the committee concluded that the reliability and quality of information arising from the forensic examination of evidence available to the legal system varies substantially across the country.

Bottom line. In America justice isn’t equally available to all. Why? Understaffing and underfunding.

The NAS report also highlighted a credentialing problem. Most jurisdictions do not require forensic practitioners to be certified by reliable legitimizing organizations. Most forensic disciplines have no mandatory certification programs internally.

Sound familiar? It’s one of Tempe’s favorite themes. Here’s what she says:

“Board certification. Every field now has it. The American Board of Forensic Anthropology, Odontology, Entomology, Toxicology, Engineering, Psychiatry, Pathology, etc. Full accreditation requires attainment of a specified educational level, a lengthy application process, and rigorous examination. And it’s not just a one-shot deal. For continued certification, diplomates must participate in ongoing professional activities and adhere to ethical standards.”

Among its eleven recommendations, the NAS report called for mandatory certification of all forensic scientists and medical examiners. The same way that, for example, states require lawyers to be licensed.

But back up, you say. Weren’t these issues addressed years ago by the Supreme Court?

In 1993, in Daubert vs. Merrell Dow Pharmaceuticals, Inc., the Supreme Court ruled that a “trial judge must ensure that any and all scientific testimony or evidence admitted is not only relevant, but reliable.”

Bravo! So what’s the problem?

First, the Daubert standard applies only to federal courts and to state court systems that choose to adopt it. Second, Daubert appoints the judge as gatekeeper. But how does his or her honor distinguish legitimate forensic methodologies and their practitioners from junk science and charlatans?

Tempe’s point precisely.

“Board certification isn’t a perfect answer, Ryan, but it’s a start. Those letters behind a scientist’s name aren’t just there for show. They’re hard-earned. And they’re a message to judges, prosecutors, law enforcement, whomever, that an expert is legit, that he or she has undergone peer scrutiny and meets a high set of standards.”

Contrary to the television myth, laboratory workers differ from crime scene searchers. Scientists, most with advanced degrees, differ from the technicians who lend them support.

It is the scientists who wield the mighty swords. And, sadly, not all are equally competent. Not all view themselves as champions of scientific truth.

206 Bones is the story of a scientist who wished to become the Grail Knight. Though qualified in one field, the individual aspired to much more. The result was disastrous.

I have selected forensic science as my life work. Like the vast majority of my colleagues, I have sworn to a code of chivalry. The pledge: To protect the innocent from wrongful conviction; to help convict the guilty.

The fulfillment of this twofold promise requires assurance of professional competence across all disciplines, and enforcement of rigorous ethical standards.

How to ensure both?

Tempe and the NAS are right on the mark. Board certification must become mandatory in the hiring of scientists, and in their qualification as experts in court.

And existing boards must not relax their standards to accommodate all. Technicians are not scientists. The skill sets are different. Certification standards must remain rigorous to clarify this distinction.

Not perfect. But it’s a start.

What do I propose?

Proclaimed to all knights of the realm. Going forth from this day. To sit at the round table ye must:

Suck it up, take your boards, pass the king’s muster.