Counterplay

19

John Jojola’s dead…and they tried to kill my kids. Karp stood near the witness stand, waiting for the hearing to start, anxious for it to start and take his mind off the news from New Mexico. It was three days later, but the anger still boiled up inside his gut until he had to force himself to look about the courtroom just to keep from hitting something.

Fortunately, everyone else was also occupied. Guma was behind the prosecution table but with his back turned to Karp as he leaned over the bar in earnest conversation with Detective Fairbrother.

Over at the defense table, Emil Stavros sat surrounded by his defense team, trying to look involved though his three main attorneys hardly acknowledged his existence while they conferred behind him. Stavros was wearing a bright orange jail jumpsuit, having been locked up in the Tombs ever since violating the conditions of his bond. The judge had agreed with Guma’s argument that the little jaunt to upstate New York proved he was a flight risk. Every once in a while, one attorney or another would lift his head and peer over at Karp or Guma, like a quarterback surveying the opposing defense from the huddle, then go back to talking strategy.

Or lunch plans, Karp thought, surveying the defense lawyers. Someplace they could be seen by the media, like the Tribeca Grill. They’d protest that they weren’t supposed to comment, there’s a gag order you know, however, you are aware that…

Three days since the attack in New Mexico and Karp was still fuming. Marlene had gone to Taos to check on her daughter and Ned, and more tragically, to attend the memorial service for John Jojola. According to the Taos News, the police chief of the Taos Pueblo had been killed by suspected Islamic terrorists. Although there had been very little official information provided by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security’s man on the scene, assistant director Jon Ellis, the aggressive little weekly newspaper speculated that the assassination of Jojola had something to do with his having played a role in stopping a terrorist plot in New York City on New Year’s Eve. “It’s possible that this was a revenge thing,” the newspaper quoted a source close to the investigation.

Apparently, Jojola, a decorated Vietnam veteran, put up quite a fight as the entire gang of a dozen terrorists also died in the gun battle that took place at the old Josh Steers homesteader cabin, the newspaper stated.

According to Taos County Sheriff Chris Ferguson, Jojola is credited with saving the lives of Taos residents Ned Blanchet, who he said also fought bravely and was wounded in the fight, and Lucy Karp, a newcomer to Taos from New York City where her father is the district attorney. Jojola was apparently killed by one of the terrorists, who had been wounded in the fight…

God, you’d think I would be used to it by now, Karp steamed silently as the judge’s clerk entered the courtroom, an indication that the judge was on his way and it was time to amble over to the prosecution table. In fact, you’d think I’d have gotten past telling myself that I should be used to it by now.

He wondered what Marlene was up to and could only hope it didn’t involve more guns. She’d called after arriving in New Mexico and told him that Lucy was fine and that Ned, while grazed by a bullet and knocked around a bit, would heal completely, too.

However, she was mourning the loss of Jojola, who apparently died just when it appeared that the fight was over. One of the terrorists who’d survived had apparently hidden a weapon and killed Jojola.

The entire reservation is locked down; no one but tribal members are allowed on the property. However, there’s going to be a memorial service tomorrow for everyone else, Marlene had said. He had a lot of friends in this area and elsewhere, and the tribal council wanted to give them a chance to get back here for the memorial service.

Marlene’s voice caught. Karp thought she might be crying and kicked himself for not going with her. He’d liked Jojola a great deal from the moment they’d met-a man at peace with himself and his view of the world. I wish I could be there, Karp said. But this hearing-

John would understand, Marlene said. He’d tell you he’s not here anymore anyway, at least not physically. I’m here to pay my respects out of consideration to his people. Maybe if I’m lucky, his spirit will find me.

Karp hung up the telephone not sure what he thought of Marlene’s faith in Jojola’s spirit-filled world and Lucy’s Catholic mysticism. Then again, I suppose they’re no different than Judaism and the concepts his boys were studying for their bar mitzvah. Spirits. A God risen from the dead. Or a God who parts seas and hands down laws written in stone tablets. It all takes faith, he thought. You believe what you believe.

What he believed right now was that Kane was trying to make good on his threat to kill the people he loved, and it had shook him. Most of Karp’s adult life he’d been exposed to the most heinous side of human nature, of which the slaughter of the children and officers during Kane’s escape was as bad as it got. But there was still a big difference when the intended victims were your flesh and blood, and if Kane had walked into the courtroom at that moment, Karp would have gladly wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed.

Karp was still indulging his homicidal fantasy of watching Kane’s face turn blue when the bailiff entered the court, followed by the judge, and cried out the traditional, “Oyez. Oyez. The Honorable Judge Paul Hans Lussman III.”

As they waited for the judge to be seated, Karp, who was standing next to Guma at the prosecution table, glanced back to where Jack Swanburg and Charlotte Gates were sitting, waiting to be called to the stand. Gates smiled at him and Swanburg added a nod; they looked relaxed and slightly bored. During witness preparation in Karp’s office the night before, Swanburg and Gates had assured him that their scientific expertise was convincingly persuasive.

Between us, we’ve done a couple thousand of these, Swanburg said when they met in his office before walking to the courtroom. We’ve found that keeping an even keel-simply testifying about the science without appearing to favor one side over the other-tends to go over well with juries and jurists.

After the body was exhumed, Bryce Anderson, Stavros’s lead lawyer, had filed a motion to controvert the search warrant and to prevent the prosecution from entering the remains found in the Stavros backyard as evidence. The defense’s main contention was not only deficient probable cause to justify the issuance of the warrant, but there was insufficient proof that the body was that of Teresa Stavros. So the judge had granted the defense request for an evidentiary hearing.

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Anderson said. “I’ll leave alone the question of the district attorney’s motives for suddenly pursuing this case just five months before the general election. However, this case is awash in irregularities, including the DAO pursuing an indictment for murder when there was no proof that Mrs. Stavros is even deceased. Then they go all the way to Colorado to ‘find’ some group that claims to locate bodies with divining rods, or some such thing, and now claim that they ‘know’ whose bones are buried in the backyard at the Stavros residence. The defense contends that the state should have to at least prove that the remains are truly those of Teresa Aiello Stavros. If they are not prepared to do that, or simply cannot do that, then we are asking the court to suppress the bare bones, pun intended,” he said smirking while looking back at the press, “upon which this case rests. And I might add, Your Honor, to order the District Attorney’s Office to vacate the indictment and let Mr. Stavros go on with his life, which first and foremost will be to unseat the current district attorney of New York.”

The judge looked at the prosecution team. “Good morning, Mr. Karp and Mr. Guma,” he said. “Which of you will be speaking on behalf of the people?”

“Mr. Guma,” Karp replied quickly. “He is lead counsel in this case. I’m here as Sancho to his Don Quixote.”

The courtroom tittered and even the defense lawyers allowed themselves to smile. “I see you haven’t managed to keep him from tilting at windmills,” Anderson joked, half turning in his seat to see if the members of the media were taking notes that might state something about his commanding presence in the courtroom. He’d spent a lot of time at the gym to keep his body toned and more than a few bucks with a “cosmetic surgeon” to make sure the face remained taut and youthful, and he looked like he got dressed at the dry cleaner’s. He checked the effect by winking at a pretty blond television reporter and was rewarded with a blush. Have to buy her a drink later, he thought absently. Wonder what she’d do for “an exclusive.”

“Indeed,” said the judge. “Very well, Mr. Quixote-slash-Guma, are you ready to proceed with your evidence?”

“I am, Your Honor,” Guma replied as he rose from his seat. “But first I wanted to note something about Mr. Anderson’s innuendo stated for the benefit of the press specifically that the District Attorney’s Office chose to pursue this case prior to the election. Your Honor will recall that it was the defense that insisted on their client’s right to a speedy trial, and in fact chose the date in September as ‘most convenient’ for their busy schedules. As Mr. Anderson, this court, and anyone somewhat cognizant of the judicial system is aware, he could have delayed this trial until after the election. Indeed, we were prepared for that likelihood. In that case, only Mr. Karp’s political opponent would have benefited from the timing of this indictment as an opportunity to attack Mr. Karp through the only too willing members of the media-long before a jury renders a verdict that we believe will justify the timing as, in fact, long overdue.”

“Thank you for that aside, Mr. Guma,” the judge said sardonically. “But your boss is a big boy and plenty capable of taking care of himself. Please address the legal issues in front of this court today.”

“I was just getting there, Your Honor,” Guma replied. “My first response to counsel’s diatribe is to note that this is a system based in part on the law of common sense. Every juror is told that when deliberating, they are free to use their experience, their common sense-that when trying to ascertain what is meant by reasonable doubt, they are to use the same standards as they would when making an important decision in their everyday lives…their common sense. Mrs. Teresa Aiello Stavros, a devoted, thirty-five-year-old mother, disappeared fourteen years ago, fifteen in August. Since that time, there has been no evidence-not a clear photograph, not a conversation with a credible witness, not a handwritten letter. And in fact, as the defendant well knows, based upon all the facts contained in the affidavit that supported the issuance of the search warrant, at trial the people plan to call a handwriting expert who will testify that the signatures, allegedly of the deceased Mrs. Stavros, that appear on the so-called credit card and bank withdrawal slips-evidence the defense maintains is proof that she was still alive as of nine or ten years ago-were in fact forged. Moreover, we have a witness who says he saw Emil Stavros strangle his wife. So if the body, discovered after having served a legally justified search warrant issued by this court, isn’t that of Teresa Stavros, whose would it be?”

“Exactly,” Anderson replied, not waiting his turn as he shot to his feet. “Who? But that isn’t for my client to determine, or this court. It’s the state’s burden to prove that the body ‘found’ in the backyard is that of Teresa Stavros. And I’ve seen nothing that conclusively says it is. How does the state plan to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that my client killed his wife if they can’t even prove that the remains they plan to parade in front of the jury belonged to her? Or that she’s even dead? From what I understand, essentially what they found was a skeleton-no fingerprints or fluids to test DNA.”

“If I might continue, Your Honor,” Guma said testily. “Even if this body turned out to belong to Amelia Earhart, we’d still go forward with our case. The evidence presented to the grand jury that handed down the indictment in this case was more than sufficient to permit a trial jury to convict the defendant as charged.”

“Grand juries don’t hear the other side of the story-”

Guma ignored Anderson’s remark. “The means that led to the discovery of the remains at the Stavros residence, as well as the scientifically valid measures we’ve taken to positively identify the remains, will be presented at trial for the jury to weigh.”

Anderson rapped his knuckles on the defense table. “The state is well aware of the emotional impact that presenting a body, any body, would have on jurors,” he said. “By the time Your Honor grows tired of the testimony by their so-called experts, it will be too late. The jury will have heard that the bones belonged to Teresa Stavros, and no matter what I say, or what instructions you may give them regarding the burden being on the prosecution to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt, they will believe what Mr. Guma here has told them. It’s just human nature to want to solve a mystery and bring some closure for Zachary Stavros. But my client has a right-”

“-and so did Teresa Stavros,” Guma shot back.

“Your Honor, Mr. Guma is being disingenuous,” Anderson said. “Without the body, they know and I know that what they have left is a foray into carnival sideshow hypnotism and a bunch of circumstantial evidence that doesn’t prove a damn thing. The truth of the matter, one that the NYPD reached years ago, is that this woman walked out on her family, drained her accounts to get even with a cheating hubby, and is probably dancing the salsa with some hot young Latin lover as we speak.”

“Your Honor, what this hearing proves is that my counterpart is either an idiot or assumes that we’re idiots to believe that these remains belonged to anyone other than Teresa Stavros,” Guma said hotly, his face flushing. “However, we recognize that the burden of proof in this matter rests with the prosecution. But we contend that the weighing is rightfully something for the jury to undertake.”

“The jury cannot be expected to weigh fairly,” Anderson retorted just as angrily, “when faced with this quasi-scientific jargon and guesswork meant to confuse any layperson-at least that’s my motion from the papers I’ve been given so far, which I might add are very limited. I can’t even prepare my own expert witnesses because God only knows what the prosecution’s witnesses will claim.”

The judge held up his hand. “Okay, gentlemen, you’ve both had your say. I am going to wait to render my decision until after I’ve heard from two of the prosecution’s experts today. In the meantime, I have a small matter to take up in my chambers, and we’ll recess for thirty minutes.”

Karp remained standing after the judge left, but Guma plopped down in his seat where he doodled manically on a yellow legal pad. “You okay?” Karp asked.

“Yeah, I just thought that the ‘young lover’ remark was below the belt,” Guma said. “She should have left that bastard Emil; he was the one fucking around on her. But she couldn’t because she would have lost custody of Zachary. It just pisses me off that some slime-ball attorney can disparage a victim’s character without any proof whatsoever, but say one unkind remark about their client and they want a mistrial.”

Karp patted his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’re getting personally involved with this case.” He meant the remark in jest to lighten the mood, but immediately regretted it when he saw Guma’s eyes smolder and jaw tighten.

“I know what it takes to do my job,” Guma replied, balling up the sheet from his legal pad and tossing it toward the waste can near the witness stand and missing. “Damn. I’m just trying to see a little justice done here.”

“I know you are,” Karp apologized, walking over to pick up the paper and toss it in the can. “I was just trying to take the edge off before you cross the aisle and beat that smarmy bastard to a pulp…. How you feeling these days?”

“What is this?” Guma asked but only half as irritably. “I look like I’m going to keel over? Is the Grim Reaper standing behind me?” His eyes grew big with mock fear as he quickly looked over both of his shoulders.

Karp laughed, but they both knew that the only reason he was sitting next to Guma at the prosecution table was as an insurance policy. They hadn’t announced that Karp would be second chair and let the media find out on their own at a run-of-the-mill motions hearing.

As expected, Rachman had blown a fuse. What is this? she’d demanded to the press. A Joseph McCarthy witch hunt? Oppose me and we’ll pull out all the stops to see that your name is besmirched, your reputation destroyed, and your freedom imperiled.

Meanwhile, Stavros’s lawyers went to court demanding that the judge impose a gag order to keep Karp and his team from using this bit of grandstanding for political gain. Of course, they’d immediately ignored the gag order themselves. In fact, Stavros soon had a dream team of celebrity lawyers, all of them well-known TV talking heads, each of whom held his own press conference where they announced, among other things, that they’d sliced their fees in order to work on a case that was so obviously a miscarriage of justice.

“I’m okay,” Guma reassured Karp as Judge Lussman returned to the courtroom and asked him to call his witness in opposition to defense’s motion.

Addressing the judge, Karp said, “Your Honor, for purposes of a complete record, the people suggest that the court consider the testimony of our experts as part of a Daubert hearing. As the court is well aware, a Daubert hearing tests the scientific reliability and acceptability of the evidence in question. Also, Your Honor, we will ask for a similar Daubert hearing with respect to the repressed memory testimony that we intend to present to the jury.”

The way they’d laid out the workload of the trial, Guma was to give the opening statement, while Karp would sum up the people’s case for the jury. The reason was that the rigors of the trial might be too draining on Guma, and he might not have the energy for a lengthy closing argument on the final day. As far as the rest of it, Guma was going to handle the testimony of Zachary Stavros, and they would both take turns with the expert witnesses.

Guma then called Swanburg to the stand. After establishing Swanburg’s credentials qualifying him as an expert, Guma proceeded. “Dr. Swanburg, were you able to identify the remains through standard scientific means, such as those named by defense counsel?”

Swanburg shook his head. “No, the remains had skeletonized; there was no flesh on the hands for fingerprints. Nor was it possible to identify the deceased through dental records.”

“And why is that?” Guma asked.

“Well, it seems that some ten years ago, the office of Teresa Stavros’s dentist was burglarized and many files, including hers, disappeared,” Swanburg replied.

“Objection,” Anderson said. “ If Your Honor allows any of this testimony about the remains, I insist that the witness be prohibited from testifying about why Mrs. Stavros’s files are missing. They’re obviously trying to imply that those records were removed as part of a coverup. There’s no evidence that this burglary had anything to do with her files in particular, or anybody else for that matter.”

“It’s a simple fact, Your Honor,” Guma said.

“Overruled,” the judge said. “Mr. Anderson, you may make all the appropriate motions in limine prior to trial. As far as we are concerned at this hearing, the witness simply stated that a burglary occurred and files were missing, among which were Mrs. Stavros’s. For the record, Mr. Guma, you can satisfy this point concerning the burglary by producing a police report.”

Guma nodded and scribbled a note on his yellow legal pad.

“Very well, please proceed,” the judge directed.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Guma replied and turned back to Swanburg. “What about DNA comparison?”

Swanburg shook his head. “We weren’t able to come up with anything there either,” he said. “Again we were hampered by the deterioration of the remains due to weather, insect activity, and the normal processes. We did attempt to compare hair found in the site with that of Mrs. Stavros’s only known blood relative, her son, Zachary, but all we can state is that they are ‘scientifically similar,’ but the same can be said with too large a percentage of the population to say ‘to a scientific certainty,’ which is the forensic standard. We also tried to extract marrow left in the bones, which can be used for blood typing as well as DNA testing, but again we were stymied by decomposition. We even attempted to extract pulp from one of her molars for the same purpose, but with the same result.”

Guma turned to his next question. “Dr. Swanburg, can you tell the court how long, within a time frame, the remains had been in the grave.”

“Objection,” Anderson called out. “Here is another point, Your Honor, at which the prosecution witness will be testifying about guesswork that has not been accepted as standard in the scientific community. In fact, any two scientists could debate these suppositions indefinitely without reaching an answer that satisfies the threshold of reasonable degree of scientific certainty.”

“Well, that’s what we’re doing here, Mr. Anderson,” the judge said. “I’m listening to this gentleman, and any other witnesses, to determine whether it will be allowed into evidence at trial. Now, I’d like to hear what Dr. Swanburg has to say. I’ll rule on it then.” He looked at Swanburg. “You may answer the question.”

“I can’t give you an exact day, but we have ways of getting pretty close,” Swanburg said. “For instance, we know that the body was buried for a number of years before cement was poured over the gravesite. We know this because when we exhumed the remains, my colleague in the back of the courtroom, Dr. Charlotte Gates, noted plant roots that had grown through the rib area. As it turns out, the roots were from a rosebush; however, the rosebushes formerly above the site had been removed when the cement was poured, at which point the roots stopped growing and died.”

Swanburg turned in the witness seat and looked over at the judge. “Are you with me still?”

Amused, the judge nodded. “So far, Dr. Swanburg, even if my wife accuses me of doddering senility.”

“Know what you mean, Your Honor,” Swanburg chuckled. “Anyway, we know from the growth rings of the rose roots-roots have rings just like a tree that indicate age-that they had pierced the wall of the grave and grew into the corpse for at least two years before the plant was removed. We also know that the cement for the patio was poured in 1994, according to records from Manhattan Concrete, Inc. So that would mean that the roots had been growing in the grave since at least 1992. And, of course, after the grave was dug, it would have taken one to three growing seasons-depending if the plant had been disturbed by the digging-to reach the wall of the grave. So that pushes our timetable back to the grave having been dug sometime between 1989 and 1992.”

Guma didn’t have much more for Swanburg and turned him over to Anderson. “Let’s start with the last issue first,” the attorney said. “Do you know within a scientific certainty that the roots in the grave are the roots of a plant removed when the cement was poured?”

“It’s the scenario that makes the most sense.”

“Is that a yes or no?”

“That would be a ‘no,’ not absolutely certain.”

“Then the roots in that grave could actually be much older than a plant killed by the pouring of cement in 1994?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“In fact, the grave could have been dug, and the victim interred at some point in the distant past before Mr. Stavros even purchased the home. Those roots could have ‘pierced the grave,’ as you put it, years before Mrs. Stavros left her home.”

“I suppose it is possible but we-”

“Is ‘I suppose,’ a ‘yes,’ Dr. Swanburg?”

“Yes, a qualified yes, but a yes.”

“More like a qualified guess, Dr. Swanburg.”

Swanburg looked somewhat bemused but let the aside go without comment.

“Let’s move on, Dr. Swanburg,” Anderson said. “Essentially, what you told Mr. Guma is that the standard accepted methods of human identification were not available to you.”

“Well, no, that’s not what I said at all,” Swanburg replied. “I testified that two methods-granted, the most common known to laypersons such as you-were not available to us. And I’ll concede that these other methods are less exact, but I believe that my colleague will be testifying that these other methods have been used in courts throughout the world for years now.”

When Swanburg stepped down, Karp called Charlotte Gates to the stand. After the exchange of pleasantries and establishing her expertise, he began by asking her for a short version of the excavation process. When she finished, he noted Swanburg’s testimony regarding the lack of fingerprint or DNA evidence. “Does that mean we have no other scientific means of identifying these remains?”

“Not at all,” Gates replied. “Those are just two.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Sure. For one thing, even though we don’t have dental records, the deceased’s teeth can still give us clues to her identity.”

“How so?”

“Well, through a subspecialty of dentistry called forensic odontology, something I’ve studied in my practice as a forensic anthropologist. There are several reasons why the dentition is valuable for human identification. Tooth enamel is the hardest substance in the human body, which makes teeth capable of surviving conditions under which other human tissues, including bone, deteriorate. Dental work such as fillings, crowns, bridges, and root canal therapy are individually customized for each patient; plus, individuals lose or damage teeth, as well as the bone that holds them. It is these unique qualities that enable forensic odontologists to compare dental restoration work, through X-rays or even anecdotal evidence, with the remains to identify, or exclude, a possible missing individual with a very high level of probability. However, as you’ve heard in this case, there are no dental records for comparison.”

“And so?”

“And so we move on to a less exact but nevertheless valid means to ‘narrow the field,’ so to speak,” Dr. Gates said. “We all know that we lose our so-called baby teeth at certain points in our life-give or take a year or two. But actually, we can make determinations as to age well into adulthood because dental development is tightly controlled and protected against disturbances through a process known as canalization. The disadvantage of age estimates, based on dental development, is that most adults have completed the process by age twenty-five.”

“So from what you just said,” Karp asked, breaking up the sequence to make it more understandable, “what can we say about the remains found in the defendant’s backyard?”

“We can say the deceased was at least twenty-five years old,” Gates replied.

“Can you be any more exact?” Karp said.

“To a lesser but still scientifically valid degree I can,” Gates said. “As strong as they are, our teeth don’t last forever. We wear them down by eating hard foods and grinding them against each other. We also tend to lose some of the bone around the roots as we grow older, and we experience more gum diseases, some of which can be seen in the bone of the jaw as well as the teeth themselves.”

“Well, do all people wear out their teeth at the same rate?” Karp asked.

Gates shook her head. “No, and as a matter of fact that can vary greatly according to culture, socioeconomic status-i.e., such as the availability and frequency of dentist visits-and some physical cause, such as a tense person who grinds their teeth a lot. However, a fairly large body of evidence has been gathered comparing thousands of people-both living and deceased-in any one age, gender, social class, and area. The end result is the ability to say that the average person in a certain category can be expected to demonstrate particular aspects in regard to their dentition. For instance, the teeth of the average wealthy white male in the United States will look different at age fifty, than the teeth of the average impoverished Asian, fifty-year-old female in Cambodia.”

“So using this comparison system, can you estimate the age of the remains in question?” Karp asked.

“Yes, these comparison studies have been fed into computers, which I’ve accessed,” Gates replied. “The remains fall into the category of adult, Caucasian females of upper-middle to wealthy economic status with an age range of between thirty and forty-two years.”

“And do you recall the age of Teresa Stavros when she disappeared?”

“I’ve been told that she was thirty-five years old.”

“That’s correct,” Karp nodded. “Is there anything else that might indicate the age of the victim in this case?”

“Objection,” Anderson said. “There’s no foundation that the remains are those of a crime victim.”

“I see,” Karp said. “Then perhaps we should call the Smithsonian Institution to let them know that we may have discovered the ancient burial grounds of Pocahontas-she having died of natural causes.”

Anderson chuckled and shook his head as if greatly amused while pouring himself a drink of water. The rest of the courtroom laughed as well.

“Let me rephrase that,” Karp said, smiling. “Is there anything else you can tell us about the age of the person whose remains just happened to wind up in the backyard of Emil Stavros?”

“Yes,” Gates nodded. “When we’re young our bones are very flexible because they have not hardened. This process begins at the growth places on either end of the bone and works its way toward the center until they meet and we have the stronger but more brittle bones of an adult. Bones can tell a story if you know how to read them. For instance, in adulthood we can see where someone broke his leg as a child. But there are more subtle clues as well, such as the onset of age-related arthritis. Or, in the case of women especially, who have difficulty maintaining bone density as they age due to a lack of calcium, the onset of osteoporosis.”

“And how does that help you determine age?” Karp asked.

“In a way that is similar to the comparison studies of teeth,” Gates replied. “By comparing the bones of thousands of females whose age at death was known, we can say with a strong degree of scientific certainty that the remains we exhumed belonged to a woman in her midthirties to early forties.”

Karp took a sip of water from a cup on the prosecution table and looked at Emil Stavros, who quickly let his attention be drawn to his notepad. “Now, Dr. Gates, a moment ago you said that the remains belonged to a woman. Was it possible to establish the gender by looking at the bones?”

“Yes, there are several means,” Gates said. “The easiest was looking at the bones of the hips. I’m sure we’re all fairly aware that a woman’s hips are anatomically different from a man’s, in large part so that a woman can give birth.”

“Speaking of hips, Dr. Gates,” Karp said, “is there something more you can tell from the hip bones found in the grave?”

“Yes, she’d given birth to one, perhaps, two children,” Gates said. “Babies do not pass through the birth canal easily, and the pressures of childbirth cause the bones to move and scar.”

“So in summation, what can you tell us to a reasonable degree of scientific certainty about the remains?”

“That they belonged to a woman who gave birth to at least one child and was between the ages of thirty and, let’s say, forty-five tops when she died.”

Karp studied his notes. He actually knew exactly where he was going next but wanted to let Gates’s testimony sink in before adding more. “Let’s move, on,” he said at last turning on a slide projector as Guma stood to turn down the lights in the courtroom. The photograph of a skull appeared on the screen set up in front of the jury box.

“Your Honor, for the purposes of this hearing, may we have these slide photographs marked sequentially starting with people’s exhibit one,” Karp said.

Anderson glanced up at the slide and went back to scribbling notes on his legal pad. “No objection.”

Karp pointed to the screen. “Dr. Gates, can you tell us what this is a photograph of?”

“It’s a photograph of the skull we removed from the grave in this case.”

“What can you tell us about it?”

“Well, firstly, all races have physical characteristics that differentiate them from another race,” she said. “We can see this walking down the sidewalk outside of this building. People of one race may have differences in the shape of their skulls that determine their appearance. For instance, you have what I would call Slavic facial characteristics, Mr. Karp-”

“Very good,” he said, surprised as this had not come up before, “my ancestors came from Poland. So can you make a similar statement regarding this skull?”

“Yes, well, in this particular case, the shape of the skull identifies its owner as a Caucasian woman.”

Karp pressed a button and another slide appeared-this one showing the skull from the left side. Using a light pointer, he noted a small dark circle behind the ear hole. “Can you tell us what this is?”

Gates nodded. “It’s an entry wound.”

“Caused by?”

“A bullet.”

“How do you know?”

“After we disinterred the remains, I carefully placed the skull in an evidence bag,” she said. “I then took it to the Office of the New York Medical Examiner, who was gracious enough to allow me to work there, where I placed it in hot water to remove dirt as well as organic matter, such as any remaining skin or organs…not that there was much. After the clean skull was removed, the residue in the bottom of the pot was sifted through a fine mesh screen. There was no exit wound from the skull, and I was able to find bullet shards still inside; several pieces, as a matter of fact, that under the microscope turned out to be that of a.22-caliber bullet.”

Karp turned to another slide. This one showed the skull from the front, next to a photograph of Teresa Stavros. “Is there any way to match this skull to this woman?” he asked.

“Yes, we call it superimposition,” Gates said. She explained that more than one hundred physical points of the skull had been mapped out onto a graph.

“When we compare one person’s face to another, we see things like high cheeks, or a long chin, or a wide forehead, or note that the distance between the eyes is greater or smaller than a person standing next to them. These characteristics are caused by the structure of the bones beneath the skin. So that when I lay the graph of the skull over a photograph…”

Karp switched to another slide that showed the graph from the skull on top of the photograph of Teresa Stavros.

“…I compare the points from the graph to see if they match similar points on the photograph. And as you can see here, this is a very good match-ninety-two percent of the graph points match those of the photograph, plus or minus four percent.”

“Is this method infallible?” Karp asked.

“Hey, that was my question,” Anderson said and looked back to see if the blond reporter was laughing. But she, as well as the other courtroom observers, was too fascinated by the testimony to pay attention to him.

“You may ask it again in a minute,” Karp said. “Doctor?”

“No,” Gates conceded. “Photographs are not exact. A person may seem to have certain characteristics that may not be as pronounced in another photograph. Also, people gain or lose weight, which can disguise certain physical attributes. For that reason, superimposition is better at ruling someone out than saying with certainty that a skull matches exactly one person. We accept that superimposition has a ten to fifteen percent margin of error.”

“Which is like telling us that by using superimposition you are from eighty-five percent to ninety percent sure that this skull belonged to Teresa Stavros?”

“That’s probably fair,” Gates replied. “And when you add up the other things we know about the remains-age, gender, childbirth-I think I can state with a high degree of scientific certainty that the remains we exhumed in the defendant’s yard belonged to Teresa Stavros.”

Karp looked at the judge and back at the defense table. The celebrity attorneys were all making notes, then shaking their heads and whispering behind smirks, as if they’d seen through a parlor magician’s trick. “No further questions,” he said.

“Mr. Anderson?”

The defense attorney pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling, turning his head so that the blond reporter could see his “good side.” He stood up suddenly and walked partway across the courtroom toward the witness stand rubbing his chin. “Just one question, Your Honor,” he said, looking up at the witness. “Dr. Gates, could these be the remains of someone other than Teresa Stavros?”

Gates shrugged. “Yes, I think it’s highly unlikely, but-”

“Thank you,” he said, cutting her off. “No further questions.”

The courtroom was quiet as Anderson took his seat. Judge Lussman again bowed his head in thought. He looked up at Emil Stavros. “I think the people have established the foundation to allow the evidence to go to the jury, and I will allow it. We’ll let the jury decide how much weight to give these expert witnesses, but Mr. Anderson, if I were you, I’d find some good ones of my own.”

Court was adjourned. Emil Stavros was handcuffed and led away with a look of hatred back at Karp and Guma. “You’ll pay for this, Karp,” he shouted just before he disappeared through the security door that led him back down and through the tunnel to the Tombs.

“Whew!” Anderson said to the other defense attorneys. “I need a drink. How about we reconvene at Restaurant 222 on West Seventy-ninth?”

The celebrity attorneys left the courtroom laughing and arranging golf dates. “What do you think?” Detective Fairbrother asked as Karp and Guma gathered their papers at the prosecution table.

“I think Mr. Anderson mostly just wanted to see how our experts performed in a courtroom,” Guma answered. “How about you, Butch? Butch?”

Karp heard his name being called but he was thinking about Kane’s face turning blue with his hands around the man’s neck. He tried to kill my kids!