“I see. Tell me, doctor. Did you determine the time of death?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what did you determine that to be?”
“The decedent met his death on Thursday evening, June tenth, between the hours of seven-thirty and eight- thirty P.M.”
“Can you tell us how you made that determination, doctor?”
“Certainly. The decedent met his death approximately two and a half hours before my preliminary examination. You’ll recall I began my examination by ten twenty-nine. I had taken the body temperature by ten thirty-two. The body temperature was ninety-four point nine.” Dr. Stanton smiled. “The rest is simply mathematics. Normal body temperature is, as you know, ninety-eight point six. After death, the body cools. The rate of cooling is approximately one and one half degrees Fahrenheit per hour. The body I examined was ninety-four point nine, which is three point seven degrees cooler than normal. If the body cools one and one half degrees per hour, three degrees would be two hours, and point seven degrees would be approximately a half an hour. So the three point seven degrees of cooling indicated the body had been dead approximately two and a half hours. Since the temperature was taken at ten thirty-two, that put the time of death at approximately eight o’clock. The reasonable parameters when death might have occurred would be seven-thirty to eight-thirty.”
“You say death
“That’s right.”
“When was death
“In my opinion, right around eight o’clock.”
“Thank you, doctor. That’s all.”
In the back of the courtroom, Tracy Garvin shifted in her seat. Steve Winslow loved to go after doctors. He explained it once that many doctors come across as self-assured and arrogant, and jurors just naturally love to see them torn down. So Steve always did his best to trip them up.
The problem was, he usually concentrated on the time of death. Usually, it was Steve who brought up the rate of cooling, made the doctor do the math. He used the math to contradict something the doctor had previously said.
But Dirkson had walked the doctor through the time of death, and in Tracy’s opinion, he had nailed it pretty well. If Tracy thought so, it was a cinch the jurors thought so too. So she wondered just what Steve was going to do.
It appeared Steve Winslow didn’t know either. He got up, frowned, looked at the doctor, frowned again, and looked around as if trying to think of something to ask. After a moment he walked over to the court reporter’s table, where Dirkson had returned the plastic bag containing the bullet. He picked it up and approached the witness.
“
“I beg your pardon?”
“You have testified that it was
“That is correct.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes, I am.”
“No secondary cause of death? No contributing factors?”
Stanton shook his head. “None that was apparent in my autopsy.”
“And I assume your autopsy was quite thorough?”
“Absolutely.”
“Did you test for poisons?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Drugs?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Did you find any?”
“Nothing significant.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I say. I found nothing that would be significant.”
Steve smiled. “Did you find anything that was insignificant?”
“I got a faint positive for cocaine.”
“A faint positive?”
“That’s right.:”
“Is that like a little bit pregnant?”
“No, it is not. I got a borderline reading that might have been a trace residual effect of recreational cocaine use. But it was too faint to be conclusive. To put it one way, if this were a baseball player undergoing mandatory drug testing, the reading would not have been sufficient to determine he had flunked the test.”
“But the test did indicate a trace of cocaine?”
“Possibly. It could also have been a false positive. The only significance of the test would be to indicate that at a future time, it might be wise to test again.” Stanton smiled. “In the present case, that is not applicable.”
“Be that as it may, doctor, no matter how hard you try to minimalize this finding, the fact is this test revealed a trace residue of cocaine.”
“Which could not in any way have contributed to the cause of death,” Dr. Stanton said. “I want to make that perfectly clear. When I stated I found no contributing causes of death, that was entirely accurate. There are no contributing causes of death, no matter how much you may want to make out of this one particular test.”
“I’m not trying to make anything out of it, doctor, other than to bring out the fact it exists. Now then was there anything
Dr. Stanton’s eyes narrowed. “I did not
Judge Wylie banged the gavel. “That will do. Doctor, I can understand the provocation, but please try to avoid sparring with counsel.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
“Proceed.”
Steve Winslow held up the plastic bag. “Now then, doctor, getting back to this bullet. The one you told us about. The one that is the sole and sufficient cause of death. The one that this trace residue of cocaine was not a contributing factor to.”
“Objection, Your Honor.”
“Sustained. Mr. Winslow, if you could likewise avoid baiting the witness?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Dr. Stanton, regarding this bullet-is it then your testimony that this bullet is the sole and sufficient cause of death of the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”
“Yes, it is.”
“This particular bullet?”
“Yes. If that’s Exhibit One,” Stanton said, “that’s the bullet.”
“Oh, it’s Exhibit One,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t switch bullets on you, doctor. Here. See for yourself.”
He handed Dr. Stanton the plastic bag. Stanton took it, looked at it, started to hand it back.
“No, hang on to it for a minute, doctor,” Steve said. “I’d like to ask you some questions about the bullet. To begin with, tell us again how you recognize it as the bullet you took from the body of the decedent?”
“As I said, I scratched my initials on the base.”
“And your initials are?”
“A.S. For Andrew Stanton.”
“I see. And can you find your initials on the base of the bullet now?”
“Yes, of course. They’re right here.”
“The court reporter will please note that he is indicating the flat part of the bullet on which he scratched the