Useful Enemies

testified as an expert witness in more than fifty U.S. trials, and was the president of the World Association of Document Examiners (WADE).

Robertson’s testimony got off to a bad start. Prior to the trial, she had examined the original Trawniki card in the Israeli police laboratory in Jerusalem. However, her analysis had been conducted in her Florida laboratory using not original documents but enlarged photos of the card and proven signatures. Analysis from photos cast an immediate doubt on her conclusions. And unlike Bezaleli and Epstein, whose opinions were strong and conclusive, all of Robertson’s were qualified, and therefore highly vulnerable to cross-examination.

Robertson’s first two conclusions surprised Sheftel and the defense. First, both Bezaleli and Epstein had concluded that the signature of Trawniki commandant Karl Streibel was authentic without a doubt. Robertson appeared to support them when she concluded that the signature was possibly authentic. Second, both Bezaleli and Epstein had testified that the signature of supply officer Ernst Teufel was probably authentic. Sheftel expected Robertson to testify that the signature was forged. Instead, she concluded that it was fraught with so many problems that no firm conclusion could be reached about it genuineness.

However tentative she was on her first two conclusions, Robertson was far from a total disappointment. Her next set of conclusions delivered exactly what Sheftel had hoped for:

• The signature of Iwan Demjanjuk was a fake. Bezaleli and Epstein had concluded that the Demjanjuk signature on the card was probably authentic.

• The yellow-orange spot on the card was a solvent used to loosen the photo so that it could be removed. Epstein had testified that the blotch was probably dried glue, but he couldn’t be sure because he wasn’t a chemist. Neither was Robertson.

• Two different kinds of inks were used to impress the seal on the Trawniki card, strongly suggesting forgery. Both Bezaleli and Epstein testified that only one ink was used.

• The original photograph on the card was removed and replaced. Both Bezaleli and Epstein agreed that the photo on the Trawniki card had either fallen off or had been removed. Because they couldn’t tell which, neither could say whether the photo on the card was the original photo or not.

• The stamp impression on the photo was made with two different stamps to give the impression that one stamp had been used. Epstein had concluded that only one stamp had been used.

• The various ink and pencil colors on the Trawniki card were highly suspicious, suggesting forgery. Epstein found them to be normal on a World War II document.

The differences between the prosecution and defense testimony up to this point were as stark as they could be. Robertson’s string of observations and conclusions added up to forgery: Two different stamps and inks were used to make the phony seal on the picture; a solvent was used to deliberately remove the photo, which was then replaced by a different photo; and the Demjanjuk signature on the card was a fake.

Bezaleli and Epstein had concluded that the Trawniki card was authentic.

Michael Shaked conducted the cross-examination of Edna Robertson. He wore the white hat in the courtroom and, as far as survivors and their families were concerned, Mickey Shaked, as he liked to be called, was a hero. Born in Israel, he had graduated from Hebrew University’s school of law. As an assistant DA, he was a dangerously modest and unassuming man with a soft-spoken voice. Friends and foes alike agreed that he came to a cross-examination with a sharp scalpel and better prepared than the witnesses themselves. His treatment of those unfortunate enough to face him often bordered on brutal.

Given Robertson’s attack on the conclusions of Bezaleli and Epstein, Shaked had no choice but to crush her at the stand. He systematically went about shredding her credibility and destroying her self-confidence.

“What do they call you,” he began in a condescending tone. “Doctor Robertson or Professor Robertson?”

Sheftel was on his feet in a flash. “I think that the question is insulting,” he said. “It is absolutely clear… that Ms. Robertson is neither a doctor nor a professor. The purpose of the question is to insult her, and I do not think that such questions have a place here. I—”

The interpreter signaled Sheftel that his microphone was not turned on.

“Better there be no microphone,” Judge Levin said. “The comment is not fit for a microphone. Please sit down.”

A few minutes later, Sheftel objected again, this time to a line of cross-examination that he felt was out of place.

“You have apparently come here today in a very aggressive mood,” Judge Levin said, “and it would be worth your while to cool down…. From this point forward, objections, if there are any objections, may be made only by Mr. Gill.”

The grounds for appeal were growing by the day.

Shaked got Robertson to admit that she did not qualify for membership in the prestigious American Society of Document Examiners, and that forensic document examiners did not respect her organization, WADE. In fact, U.S. courts disallowed WADE members from testifying as expert witnesses because, among other things, the organization did not require forensic document experience as a condition for membership.

Shaked noted that Robertson’s conclusion that a solvent had caused the large yellow-orange stain on the Trawniki card was based on a purely visual inspection. He asked Robertson: “You did not conduct any further tests or examination—chemical analysis or whatever—in order to make sure that it was in fact a solvent?”

“That is correct,” Robertson said. “I am not a chemist.”

By this time, Shaked had Robertson exactly where he wanted her—on the defensive—and he kept pushing her to the edge of an emotional cliff. He got her to admit that her conclusion about the two inks used in stamping the seal over the Trawniki card photo was based on a visual inspection, and that she had taken neither ink nor paper samples.

“How [could you give] an expert opinion in court about the subject of ink,” Shaked demanded, “when you don’t know anything, and have no idea either about paper or about ink?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t know anything about ink. I have a general knowledge,” Robertson said lamely. “I would add that the tests that I have performed on the inks are accepted tests in my profession.”

Picking up on Robertson’s “I have a general knowledge” statement, Shaked asked: “In chemistry, what does ‘Ca’ stand for?”

“I’m not a chemist.”

Ca, of course, is the chemical symbol for common calcium.

“If you look at a molecular chart, do you know what it is about?”

“No!”

“How do you testify in court about ink, if you don’t know its chemical composition,” Shaked pressed. His voice had a hard edge.

“There is no need to be so abrasive,” Judge Levin scolded.

“Do you know what paper that is,” Shaked asked more gently, referring to the Trawniki card.

“I don’t test paper. I am an observer,” Robertson said. “I look for differences.”

Next, Shaked baited a trap. Robertson had not taken the time to stop in Germany to view the original proven signatures of Karl Streibel and Ernst Teufel. She based her conclusions about their authenticity on a visual analysis of enlarged photos of the original signatures.

“How, as a self-respecting expert, could you base your opinion on blown-up photographs,” Shaked asked.

“It was a provisional and qualified opinion,” Robertson said in her defense.

“Provisional in what sense?”

“I never, never give an [unqualified] opinion based on copies.”

Having elicited that strong denial, Shaked sprung the trap. He reminded Robertson about another signature comparison case in which she gave an unqualified opinion based on a photograph of a signature.