witnesses.
Scott stood and tried to make the best of a bad witness. 'Objection. Once again, Your Honor, defense objects to the testimony of Dr. Holbrooke as being junk science that will in no way assist the trier of fact-this jury of intelligent, thoughtful jurors-in their search for the truth, but is in fact merely an attempt to inject a Dr. Phil moment into this trial.'
The D.A. had a slight smile on his face. The judge did not.
'And once again, Mr. Fenney,' she said, speaking to the cameras, 'your objection is overruled. Whether Dr. Holbrooke's testimony is relevant and admissible is my decision and I have made my decision.'
She seemed pleased with her speech. Scott sat. Bobby leaned in and whispered, 'What jurors are you talking about?'
The D.A. began his direct examination. 'Dr. Holbrooke, have you reviewed the toxicology report on Rebecca Fenney?'
'Yes, I have.'
'And did she have alcohol and cocaine in her system the night of Trey Rawlins' murder?'
'Yes, she did.'
'How much?'
'Point-two-two alcohol and four hundred nanograms per milliliter of cocaine.'
'In layman's terms.'
'A lot.'
Bobby's laptop pinged. He read Karen's message then said, 'Objection. If he's an expert, he can do better than 'a lot.' '
'Overruled.'
'A whole lot, then,' the doctor said.
'Doctor, in his opening statement, Mr. Fenney posed a question for the jury and Mr. Herrin just posed the same question to Detective Wilson: How could a normal person such as Rebecca Fenney have killed Trey Rawlins then slept in his blood? That is indeed a perplexing question. Do you have an expert opinion that might help the jury answer that question?'
'Yes, I do. With that much alcohol and cocaine in her system, she could have stabbed him then passed out in his blood.'
'I see. Is it likely that she remembered much from that night?'
'No. That night is probably a complete black hole.'
'She could have stabbed Mr. Rawlins and not remember?'
'Yes. She quite likely remembers very little from that night.'
'Thank you, Doctor. Pass the witness.'
Bobby stood. 'Dr. Holbrooke, you're a professional witness, correct?'
'I'm a psychiatrist who testifies in court.'
'You get paid for testifying, correct?'
'Just as you get paid for representing your client.'
'Who's your client-the State of Texas or the truth?'
'I am here to offer my professional opinion.'
'For a fee. What percentage of your income is derived from testifying in court?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Best guess.'
'I can't guess.'
'Okay, how much did you earn last year from treating psychiatric patients?'
'Nothing.'
'Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Do you have any other sources of income, other than testifying in court?'
'No.'
'So one hundred percent of your income is earned by testifying?'
'Yes.'
'See, that wasn't so hard. How many times have you testified in a criminal trial?'
'I'm not sure.'
'More or less than a hundred times?'
'More.'
'And were you paid for each time?'
'Yes.'
'How much is the State of Texas paying you for your testimony today?'
'Including my review of the case files?'
'Your entire bill.'
'Ten thousand dollars.'
The D.A. stood and said, 'State calls Rosie Gonzales.'
Rosie was thirty-two, single, and a Mexican national with a green card. She spoke English; she took classes at the community college. She wanted to be a registered nurse. Since immigrating from Matamoras two years before, she had been a maid.
'Ms. Gonzales, did you clean Trey Rawlins' house?' the D.A. asked.
'Yes, I did that.'
'How long?'
'Maybe, four hours.'
'No. When did you first start cleaning his house?'
'Oh. One year ago.'
'And how often did you clean the house?'
'Two days each week-Mondays and Thursdays.'
'And did you clean the house on Thursday, June the fourth of this year?'
'Yes, I did that.'
'What time did you arrive that day?'
'Maybe, eight.'
'In the morning?'
'Yes.'
'And what time did you leave?'
'Noon.'
'Was anyone else in the house while you were there that day?'
'Mr. Rawlins, but he left at nine. And Ms. Fenney, she left at ten.'
'And did you see them again that day?'
'No, I did not see them.'
'And what did you do that day?'
'Wash the clothes, vacuum, windows, dishes…'
'Let's talk about the dishes. When you arrived, were there dirty dishes to be washed?'
'Yes, in the sink, and the dishwasher.'
'Were there any dirty knives?'
'Yes.'
The D.A. stepped over and picked up the murder weapon. 'This knife?'
'No, not that knife.'
'Other knives from this set?'
'Yes, one.'
'And what did you do with that knife?'
'I washed it.'
'How?'
'With my hands.'