Betrayal

'Yes, it was what is called a close contact wound, meaning the gun was fired right up against the skin of the forehead.'

'Doctor, are you able to tell us the order in which the injuries were inflicted?'

'Not really. Logically, it would seem likely the gunshot wound would have to be last because it would have been immediately lethal. As to the blunt force trauma, it appeared that some had actually started to heal slightly, and therefore might have been inflicted before some of the others which showed less signs of healing. But the body heals more or less quickly at different times and at different places on the body. This isn't a very reliable way to sequence injuries. All I can say is that all of these injuries were perimortem, meaning that they were inflicted around the time of death.'

'Thank you, Doctor. No further questions.' Mills, apparently shaken by the photos and the testimony in spite of herself, had gone nearly as pale as the medical examiner. She turned back to the defense table. 'Your witness.'

Washburn had the impression that Mills had cut her questions short because she was getting sick. Beyond that, he'd barely heard the testimony of the witness from back where he sat, and he doubted that the jurors, intent on the photographs, had heard too much of it either. He normally didn't like to spend too much time with this more or less pro forma witness, the medical examiner, since typically all his testimony served to do was prove that a murder had been committed, and that wasn't at issue here. But this time, he thought he might pry a nugget loose from this normally unpromising vein.

And if he was going to go to that trouble, he wanted the jury to hear what the man had to say. So when he got to the middle of the room, he pitched his own volume down to the nearly inaudible. 'Doctor,' he said, 'can you tell how old a bruise is?'

'I'm sorry,' the witness replied, cupping his ear. 'I didn't hear the question.'

Washburn barely heard the response, but came back with his question just a few decibels louder than the first time.

Barnsdale leaned forward, his face scrunched in concentration. 'Can I what?' he asked. 'I'm sorry.'

Behind Washburn, the gallery was getting restive. Tollson brought his gavel down one time firmly. 'I want it quiet in this courtroom!' He brought his focus back inside the guardrail that separated the gallery from the bullpen of the court. 'And I need you two gentlemen both to speak up, is that clear?'

'Yes, Your Honor,' Washburn straightened up and nearly shouted.

Shaking his head-this was rank theatrics, circus behavior-Tollson looked down at the witness. 'Doctor?'

Barnsdale looked around and up at him. 'Sir?' A whisper.

'Louder, please. The jury needs to hear you.'

Back to Washburn. 'Go ahead, Counselor.'

'Thank you, Your Honor. Doctor.' A smile meant they were friends. 'You've talked about these bruises on the body of the victim, that we've seen now in these photographs. My question is can you tell the age of a bruise?'

'As I just said, only within very broad limits.'

'Please humor me, Doctor. Explain in some detail how you can tell that one bruise is older than another.'

Clearing his throat, Barnsdale complied. 'Yes, certainly. Bruises begin healing as soon as they are made, so the degree of healing, diminishing of swelling, thickness and solidity of scabbing, color, and so on, can tell you roughly how long it is since the bruise was sustained. We all know that some people bruise more easily than others. And it's also true that the same person might bruise more easily on a different part of his body, at a different time in his life, or depending on his general health. But all things being equal, we can get some idea from the bruises themselves.'

Tollson, from the bench, intoned, 'Louder, please.'

Washburn went on. 'And these bruises to the victim, were they all the same age, so to speak?'

'No.'

'No? What was the greatest difference you observed between them?'

'Impossible to say.'

'Impossible, Doctor. You can't give us any information? Are you telling me one of these bruises could have been inflicted on Mr. Nolan when he was five years old, and another a few minutes before his death, and there would be no difference.'

A small round of laughter from the gallery.

'Well, no, of course not.'

'Then could some of these injuries been inflicted a month before Mr. Nolan's death?'

'No.'

'A week before?'

Some hesitation. 'I doubt that seriously.'

'But it could have been a week before.'

'I doubt it.'

'Well, certainly, Doctor, some of the injuries could have been inflicted three or four days before Mr. Nolan's death. That's true, isn't it?'

Washburn knew he had the doctor, and knew what the answer had to be.

'Well, I'd have to say yes.'

'And, Doctor, did you make any effort at the time specifically to note in your autopsy the age of the various bruises?'

'I didn't record a specific analysis of that for each bruise.'

'Why not?'

'It seemed irrelevant at the time. It certainly was irrelevant to the cause of death.'

'Because none of these blows killed him, isn't that right, Doctor? Mr. Nolan died from the gunshot wound, whenever that was inflicted. True?'

'Yes.'

'Thank you, Doctor. No further questions.'

Next up was Shondra Delahassau, a forensics sergeant with the police department. A dark ebony woman in her early thirties with her hair in cornrows, projecting competence and confidence, she couldn't have been more of a contrast to Dr. Barnsdale.

'We got the call on a Saturday afternoon after the groundskeeper, who was blowing leaves off the back patio, saw evidence of a fight and what looked to be splashes of blood in the living room.'

'And what happened next?' Mills asked.

'Well, the first responders to arrive were a patrol team, who entered the townhouse to see if there were injured persons or suspects still on the premises. They found only a dead body and left without disturbing anything. Once the house was cleared, they waited out front for other officers. My unit, which is crime scene investigation, got there about the same time as Lieutenant Spinoza, who had obtained a search warrant, at around four- thirty.'

'And what did you find inside?'

'First, of course, the blood, a lot of blood. In the rug and on the walls and so on.'

'Did your unit take samples of this blood for analysis, Sergeant?'

'Yes. We took samples from every location for testing in the lab.'

Mills spoke to the judge. 'Your Honor, I believe the defense is prepared to stipulate that DNA testing matched blood samples from the premises to either the defendant or Ron Nolan.'

This was bad news, and a buzz arose in the gallery, but Washburn had been only too happy to enter the stipulation after Mills had told him that the lab tech who had actually done the DNA testing was out on maternity leave. It wasn't to his advantage anyway to have a half day of scientific evidence putting Evan's blood and Nolan's blood all over Nolan's home.

'Thank you, Sergeant,' Mills said. 'Now, back to the townhouse itself, what else did you find?'