characteristics were identified: bifurcation, reticular, linear, and indeterminate. After the patterns were analyzed, nearly half a million individual properties were counted amongst the four hundred prints. This gave an average of over one thousand individual characteristics per lip print. By comparison, we get only one hundred individual characteristics per fingerprint.”
As Saperstein continued, it became evident that Warwick had not performed a complete international journal search for lip print studies; most of the information and research on lip print analysis had come from abroad and had been published in lesser-known journals.
“In our lab,” Saperstein continued, “Miss Harding’s sample lip print pattern was enlarged in a five-to-one ratio, traced, and then reduced back to its original size and scanned into the computer. The same process was completed for the evidentiary lip print found on the beer cans at the crime scene. Then, points of identification were marked for each of the samples and compared visually by both the analyst and the computer. In general, if we don’t get an exact computer match, we look for at least seven different points that visually match. So in summary, Mr. Warwick, this was pure scientific method. No tricks or mirrors were involved.” Saperstein looked into Warwick’s eyes, which were narrow with anger.
“Nothing further for this witness,” Warwick said.
“Redirect,” Denton said.
Calvino nodded.
“Why didn’t you personally perform the testing on the physical evidence relative to the Mercedes?”
“I was in the hospital. I was suffering from what was diagnosed as ulcerative colitis.”
“Who did the testing of the physical evidence in your absence?”
“Kurt Gray.”
“And who is Kurt Gray?”
“He’s a criminalist.”
“With the same training that you possess in forensic science?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So he’s qualified to run the tests which he conducted.”
“Objection. Mr. Saperstein cannot qualify another witness.”
“Sustained.”
Denton scratched his forehead. “In your opinion, then, Mr. Saperstein, would you trust Mr. Gray to run tests on a case that involved you or your family?”
“Yes.”
“And did you personally perform the DNA testing and analysis?”
“Yes.”
“One last question, Mr. Saperstein.” Denton approached him and placed both hands on the railing of the witness box. “Whose side are you on?”
Saperstein looked perturbed, as if this question had caught him off guard. “I’m on no one’s side. My function is merely to conduct tests in a scientific manner and provide results that are accurate and reproducible.”
Perfect answer; Denton smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Saperstein. I have nothing further.”
Half an hour after Calvino dismissed the jury for the day, Hellman stopped by Denton’s office and knocked on the stippled glass of his door. “Nice job today, Tim,” he said.
Denton’s tie was loosened and dangling from an unbuttoned collar. “This wool stuff is really comfortable,” he said, running a hand along the lapel of his suit coat.
Hellman hiked his brow. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”
They smiled as Denton sunk down into his chair. “It was a good day.”
“I look forward to many more. You’re just getting started.”
Denton stretched. “I’m glad Harding’s at the defense table. I feel very comfortable with our case against her.”
“Me too. And I’m not just saying that. I think justice will truly be done.”
Denton shook his head and sighed. “Tomorrow will be interesting. We’ve got the DNA expert at leadoff followed by Stanton.”
Hellman apologized for not being able to be present due to a trial he was scheduled to begin in the morning, and excused himself. Denton pulled out a crumpled tinfoil mass that was wrapped in a plastic bag: leftovers of his baloney sandwich from yesterday-his dinner for this evening. He had hundreds of pages of documents to review. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 64
Lou Palucci was laughing, the phone receiver bobbing up and down with the flab on his double chin.
“I’m serious,” Chandler said. “I need you to do me a favor.” He heard a door close and realized Palucci was probably still at the lab and had just sequestered himself inside his office.
“The last favor I did for you nearly cost me my job. Is your memory that short?”
“Last time I checked, you were still in charge of the lab.”
“The answer’s no, Chandler. Absolutely not.”
“You don’t even know what I need.”
“The very point,” Palucci said, “is that you need something. And that means that I can’t help you. I work for the state, not Ryan Chandler.”
Chandler took a deep breath. “Lou, this is no big deal, but you’re the only one who can do it.”
“I don’t like the sound of it already, and I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”
“It’s just a few numbers. Lot numbers, on the bottoms of the beer cans found in Phil Madison’s car and those confiscated from Harding’s house.”
“Why do you need those?”
“Don’t ask why. Just get them for me. You’re not running any tests, you’re not spending any state money for private purposes-”
“I’ll think about it. I need to let things settle down a bit before I go poking around. I’ll call you from home if I have anything for you.”
Chandler thanked him and hung up, then slumped in his chair. At this point, there was nothing to do unless Palucci called him back. As he sat there, he thought of a case his father had presided over, a case that first lit the spark in his heart for choosing police work as a career when he was sixteen years old. He smiled at the memory of sitting with his dad on a pier in Bay Shore, Long Island, going over the forensic evidence that helped put a killer behind bars for life.
Johnny Donnelly’s voice echoed through his head.
“It’s time, Junior…it’s time…”
Chandler picked up the phone, stared at it for a long moment, then dialed his father.
CHAPTER 65
The following morning, with the sun poking through the low-hung sky for the first time in two weeks, Denton called Dr. Leonard Ross to the stand. Dr. Ross, a researcher well schooled in the analysis and typing of DNA, had written a textbook on the topic. As a witness he was presentable, though he did have a tendency to talk above the heads of the jurors at times. At two thousand dollars for a half-day of testimony, Denton wanted to make sure Ross’s message got through loud and clear to the jurors; he met with his witness on two occasions to go over the testimony and ensure the fact that the words he used were no more than three syllables in length.
Ross testified as to what the prosecution wanted to communicate to the jury: that the evidence was properly handled and preserved with little or no risk of contamination, and the delay in running the DNA testing was of no consequence whatsoever.
