The Naked Typist

31

When court reconvened Dirkson stood up and said, “Call Stanley Castleton.”

Steve Winslow watched with some interest as Stanley Castleton made his way to the stand. He was tall and thin, but his slumped shoulders and lowered head greatly diminished his height. Steve wondered if it was due to the loss of his son or if it was his standard posture.

As Stanley Castleton came forward and took the stand his movements were tentative and hesitant. Steve figured Mark Taylor’s description had been right on the money-weak and ineffectual.

When Stanley Castleton had been sworn in, Dirkson rose and crossed to him.

Naturally Dirkson made a big show of being solicitous and sympathetic. “Mr. Castleton,” Dirkson said, “I know how hard this is for you and I’ll try to be as brief as possible. Please tell me, what is your relationship to David Castleton?”

Stanley Castleton blinked twice. His lip trembled, and when he spoke, his voice quivered. “He is my son.”

Dirkson nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Castleton. Now, I ask you, on June twenty-ninth were you asked to go to the morgue to identify a body?”

“Yes, I was.”

“And did you identify it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Whose body was it?”

This time his whole face seemed to quiver. Tears brimmed in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, choked back a sob. He exhaled, took a breath, then croaked, “It was my son. David.”

Stanley Castleton dissolved into sobs.

Dirkson paused a moment before saying softly, “Thank you. That’s all.”

Judge Wallingsford said, “Does the defense wish to cross-examine?”

Fitzpatrick looked a question at Steve.

Steve looked over at Stanley Castleton weeping on the witness stand. There was no way he could cross-examine him without alienating the jury. Hell, some things worked and some didn’t. Steve took a breath. He shook his head. “No questions, Your Honor.”

“The witness is excused,” Judge Wallingsford said.

Stanley Castleton might not have heard him. He just sat there, sobbing. Dirkson had to come forward, put his hand on his shoulder, lead him from the witness stand.

Steve Winslow gritted his teeth. It was a hell of a moment, guaranteed to prejudice the jury against the defendant. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

When Stanley Castleton had finally been escorted from the courtroom, Dirkson recalled Detective Oswald from the Crime Scene Unit, who testified to finding a gun next to the decedent. The gun was produced, identified and marked for identification as People’s Exhibit 3.

He also testified to finding a folded piece of paper in the decedent’s pants pocket. The paper was produced, identified and introduced into evidence. Oswald then read what was written on it into the record. The paper proved to be a note, written in ink, of an address and apartment number. Oswald was able to testify that he had personally gone to that address and could verify that it had turned out to be the apartment of the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder.

That caused some raised eyebrows in the courtroom. Dirkson hadn’t even mentioned the note in his opening statement. Obviously this was a case where the prosecution had more evidence against the defendant than it could ever possibly need.

Finally Oswald testified to developing and photographing latent fingerprints in the decedent’s apartment, and photos and fingerprint lifts were received into evidence.

Steve Winslow took him on cross-examination, which created a stir of interest among the jurors. Up till now they seen only Fitzpatrick. And Fitzpatrick looked like a lawyer. But what was this young man with long hair and sloppy clothes up to?

Naturally, the jurors expected Steve to cross-examine Oswald on the gun and the note.

He did neither.

“Officer Oswald,” Steve said. “You testified to taking photographs in the decedent’s apartment, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Now, in addition to taking the photographs, you were a witness to what you photographed, were you not?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You examined the apartment for evidence, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Was there a computer in the apartment?”

“Yes, there was.”

“Does it show in the photographs you took?”

Detective Oswald frowned. “I’m not sure.”

Steve picked up the stack of photographs from the court reporter’s desk and handed them to the witness. “Well, take a look and see.”

Detective Oswald thumbed through the photographs. “Yes, here it is,” he said. He held up the photograph and pointed. “You can see it here, in the upper left-hand corner.”

“Which photograph is that?”

Oswald turned it over and looked at the back. “That is People’s Exhibit Five-N.”

“I see,” Steve said. “And does the computer show in any of the other photographs?”

Oswald riffled through them. “No, it does not.”

“I see,” Steve said. He took the photographs back from the witness. “And since you weren’t sure if the computer was in the photographs at all, and since it only appears in one of them and only in the background, and since these are photographs of the objects from which you obtained latent fingerprints, am I correct in assuming you got no fingerprints from the computer?”

“That is correct.”

“Is that unusual?”

Oswald shook his head. “Not at all. A computer keyboard is like a typewriter. The keys are struck many times. There’s no hope of getting a clear latent print. Only indecipherable smudges.”

“Which is what you got in this case?”

“That is correct.”

“Then let me ask you this. Is there any chance those indecipherable smudges might contain enough whorls and arches, no matter how fragmented, to be able to attempt a comparison with the prints of any known person?”

“I would say no.”

“But that is just your opinion?”

“It is an expert opinion.”

Steve smiled. “Yes, it is. But the manner in which you just expressed it was, ‘I would say no.’ You didn’t say no. You told me that’s what you would say. Which is not exactly the same thing, and which indicates a certain degree of doubt.”

Oswald shook his head. “There is no doubt in my mind. If I misspoke myself, I apologize. What I said was a figure of speech. If you want to build on it, I can’t stop you. But the fact is, I would say no, because the answer is no, so that’s what I would say.”

That sally brought smiles to the faces of some of the jurors. Dirkson grinned approvingly.

Steve Winslow took no notice. “That may well be,” he said. “But I’d rather let the evidence speak for itself. Tell me, did you photograph the keyboard of the computer?”

“No, I did not.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. Because there were no legible prints.”

“Which you have no way of proving, since you didn’t take the photograph of the keyboard.”

“Objected to as argumentative,” Dirkson said.

“Sustained.”

“Did you photograph the keyboard?” Steve asked.

“Objected to as already asked and answered.”

“Sustained.”

Steve Winslow frowned. “No further questions.”

In the back of the courtroom, Mark Taylor nudged Tracy Garvin. “What’s he up to now?”

Tracy leaned over to whisper. “Giving the impression the prosecution’s hampering his investigation by being overly technical.”

Taylor grinned. “You’re gettin’ good at this.”

Next, Dirkson called Phillip Riker from the police crime lab, who testified to examining the fingerprints that had been received in evidence.

“Mr. Riker,” Dirkson said. “Did you compare those prints with the known prints of any person or persons?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And who would that be?”

“Well, I first compared the prints with the prints taken from the decedent, David Castleton.”

“With what results?”

“The majority of the prints were his. May I consult my records?”

“Please do.”

Riker took a notebook from his jacket pocket. “Yes, here we are. There were thirty-one prints in all. Twenty-six of them proved to be prints of the decedent, David Castleton.”

“The remaining five-did you compare those with the known prints of any person?”

“Yes, I did.”

“With what results?”

“Four of those prints matched absolutely with the known prints taken from David Castleton’s cleaning lady, Joyce Wilkens.”

“I see,” Dirkson said. “And the one remaining print-did you compare that with the known prints of any person?”

“Yes, I did.”

“With what result?”

“That print matched absolutely with the right thumb print taken from the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder.”

There was a murmur in the courtroom. Judge Wallingsford silenced it quickly with the gavel.

“Thank you, Mr. Riker,” Dirkson said. “To which print are you now referring?”

“May I see the exhibits?”

“Certainly,” Dirkson said. He handed the fingerprint lifts to the witness.

Riker riffled through them, compared them to the list in his notebook. “Here we are,” he said. “I’m referring to the lift marked for identification as People’s Exhibit Six-J. It is the print I compared to the right thumbprint taken from the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder.”

“And where was that print found?”

“It was taken from the doorknob of David Castleton’s apartment.”

“The front doorknob?”

“That is correct.”

“The outside doorknob?” Dirkson asked.

“No, sir. The inside doorknob.”

Dirkson let the jury see his smile of satisfaction. “Thank you, Mr. Riker,” he said. “That’s all.”

Steve Winslow rose to cross-examine. “Mr. Riker,” he said. “Were you present at the scene of the crime?”

“No, I was not.”

“You compared prints furnished to you by the Crime Scene Unit?”

“That is correct.”

“Then when you state that the thumbprint of the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder was taken from the inside doorknob of David Castleton’s apartment, you are not testifying to what you personally observed. You are going by the information furnished you on the fingerprint lift. Is that right?”

“No, it is not.”

“It is not? How can that be if you were never at the scene of the crime?”

“I’m willing to explain if you’ll allow me.”

“Please do.”

“Certainly I rely on the information on the lift as a guideline, but I am not basing my testimony on it. In addition to comparing the defendant’s fingerprints with the fingerprint found on the lift, People’s Exhibit Six-J, I also compared it to the photograph of that fingerprint taken in place on the doorknob. I believe that photograph has also been introduced into evidence. Now I can’t swear to you that’s the doorknob of David Castleton’s apartment, since I’ve never been there-you’ll have to go by the testimony of other witnesses for that. But as to where that one particular fingerprint came from with regard to the set of fingerprints-well, I’m not taking the word of what anyone told me. It is my own personal observation that the fingerprint came specifically from the doorknob in the photograph.”

Winslow nodded, as if conceding the point. “Well answered, Mr. Riker. You yourself didn’t gather any fingerprints from the scene of the crime, did you?”

“I’ve already stated I was never there.”

“That’s right, you did. So in comparing the fingerprints found at the scene of the crime, you were only able to compare those fingerprints furnished to you, is that right?”

“Of course.”

Steve Winslow leafed through the photographs on the evidence table. “I call your attention to the photograph People’s Exhibit Five-N. Would you please take a look at it?”

The witness took the photograph.

“Do you see a computer in the upper left-hand corner?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Did you examine any fingerprints taken from that computer?”

“No, I did not.”

“So, if there were any legible fingerprints on the keyboard of that computer, you would have had no way to compare them, would you?”

“Objection. Argumentative.”

“Sustained.”

“Were there any legible fingerprints on the keyboard of that computer?”

“Objection. Not proper cross-examination.”

Judge Wallingsford frowned. “Overruled.”

“Were there any fingerprints on that computer.”

Riker shook his head. “I can’t answer that.”

“Yes, you can,” Steve said. “You can say yes, you can say no, or you can say you don’t know.”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“Do you know for a fact, of your own knowledge, if there were legible prints on the keyboard of that computer, yes or no?”

“Objection.”

“Overruled.”

Riker took a breath. “No.”

Steve smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Riker. So you don’t know. I didn’t think you did. That’s all.”

“Oh, Your Honor,” Dirkson said.

“Exactly,” Judge Wallingsford snapped. “Mr. Winslow, you will avoid such side remarks.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Dirkson next called a handwriting expert who testified that he had examined ‘the note of the defendant’s address that had been found in the decedent’s pocket, and determined that it had definitely been written by David Castleton.

When the defense did not cross-examine, Judge Wallingsford took note of the time and adjourned court until ten o’clock the next morning.