black, like charcoal. Some of them had smoke still coming from them. I couldn't stay there. I, I had to get away. If I close my eyes today, I can still THE COURT: I think we'll move on, Ms. Napolitano.
NAPOLITANO: Yes, Your Honor.
Miss Napolitano may have moved on at that point, but the jurors weren't about to. Jaywalker noticed out of the corner of his eye that several of them were shaking their heads slowly from side to side. He didn't dare look directly at them. Nor did he intend to ask Trooper Faulkner a single question.
Next up was Tracy D'Agostino, one of two EMTs who'd arrived within minutes of Faulkner. A twelveyear veteran on the job, Ms. D'Agostino looked far more hardened than the youthful Faulkner.
KAMINSKY: What was the first thing you did upon arriving?
D'AGOSTINO: I put on a pair of heavy gloves.
KAMINSKY: Why did you do that?
D'AGOSTINO: I needed to get into the van, just to make sure there were no survivors that needed assistance. I put on the gloves because I figured the van was too hot to touch bare-handed.
KAMINSKY: Were you able to get inside?
D'AGOSTINO: Yes. A trooper and I were able to pry open one of the doors, using a crowbar. But he was shaking too much, so I climbed in.
KAMINSKY: What did you see?
D'AGOSTINO: I saw several rows of small children, most of them still belted into their seats, and the driver, who was crushed under the dashboard. All of them were charred. Some of them were still smoldering. All of them were dead.
KAMINSKY: What did you do?
D'AGOSTINO: I climbed out of the van, walked twenty yards and, if you must know, I vomited my guts out.
So much for hardened.
Again, Jaywalker asked no questions. It would be part of his summation to concede how gruesome the crash scene had been, and how horrible the results of his client's actions. But for now, the sooner he could get Tracy D'Agostino off the stand and out of the courtroom the better.
Firestone called William Sheetz.
Like Faulkner, Sheetz was employed by the New York State Police. But in place of a baby face was a weathered mask of experience and resignation, topped by a shock of almost white hair. And instead of appearing in his gray patrol uniform, as Faulkner had, Sheetz showed up wearing a blue suit, a white shirt and a conservative tie. Evidently the prosecution team had decided to present him as the cerebral expert he was, setting him apart from the rank-and-file troopers the jury had grown accustomed to, both on the witness stand and in the courthouse. It was a shrewd move, Jaywalker had to admit, something he might have pulled himself.
FIRESTONE: By whom are you employed?
SHEETZ: The New York State Police.
FIRESTONE: How long have you been so employed?
SHEETZ: Thirty-one years.
FIRESTONE: What is your current assignment?
SHEETZ: I'm a senior investigator. I head up the AIS, the Accident Investigation Squad.
FIRESTONE: How long have you been doing that?
SHEETZ: Nine and a half years, give or take a month.
JAYWALKER: The defense stipulates that the witness is an expert in motor vehicle accident reconstruction.
THE COURT: Thank you, Mr. Jaywalker.
Sheetz had a nice way about him. He was laid-back and soft-spoken, but his voice had a rich, baritone resonance to it. His pale blue eyes squinted out from a deeply lined and weathered face. He reminded Jaywalker of John Wayne, without the hat and horse. He guessed it was no accident that Abe Firestone intended on sending the jurors home for the weekend after hearing from him.
FIRESTONE: What sort of accidents do you and your squad investigate?
SHEETZ: All fatalities. Also any accidents that result in serious bodily harm, or where alcohol or drugs appear to have played a significant role.
Firestone had the witness describe how he'd responded to the site of the crash back on May 27, and what he'd found. Mercifully for the defense, by the time of Sheetz's arrival, the van and its occupants were no longer smoldering. In fact, by then the county medical examiner and his deputies were already on the scene, directing the removal of bodies.
Sheetz had begun examining the scene, working backward from the van's final resting place, up the embankment, through the guardrail, and finally along the road surface to the spot where fresh skid marks had first appeared on the blacktop. The pavement had been dry, he explained, addressing his remarks directly to the jurors. That had allowed the van's brakes to lock up its wheels, leaving a trail of rubber behind. Because the van was an older one, it hadn't had antilock brakes, and the skid marks were therefore solid bands rather than broken lines. There had come a point, however, where, according to Sheetz, the driver must have realized that braking alone wasn't going to be enough to enable him to avoid whatever was in front of him.
FIRESTONE: What, in your opinion, did he do at that point?
SHEETZ: Continuing to brake, he turned the van's steering wheel clockwise, to the right.
FIRESTONE: With what result?
SHEETZ: The result was that the van began to drift, then fishtailed FIRESTONE: What do you mean by 'fishtailed'?
SHEETZ: Imagine a fish with a vertical tail. In other words, one that is constructed up and down (Demonstrates), rather than, say, sideways, like the flukes of a whale (Demonstrates). The fish propels itself forward by thrusting its tail back and forth, to the left, then the right (Demonstrates). 'Fishtailing,' as I use the expression, occurs when the rear of a vehicle swings back and forth in much the same fashion. But instead of occurring as the vehicle is being propelled forward, it occurs because the vehicle's rear wheels have lost traction with the road surface. Next there'd come a point where the skid marks had ended altogether, indicating that the van had literally become airborne. When it had touched down again, it had done so briefly, on the shoulder of the road. From there it had bounced and gone through the guardrail and over the embankment, flipping over several times before landing, exploding, and bursting into flames.
FIRESTONE: In your opinion, what caused it to explode?
SHEETZ: It's not possible to know precisely, but in all probability a spark occurred, created by the rubbing of metal against metal, or perhaps metal against rough dry pavement. And that spark ignited gasoline fumes, which are extremely volatile.
Sheetz had taken a number of photographs of the skid marks, the embankment and the charred remains of the van. Firestone had them marked in evidence, and had his witness describe what was depicted in each photo, and the significance of it in understanding the actions of the van's driver. In this way, Firestone was able to have his expert describe what had happened a second time. And just in case that wasn't enough, Sheetz had taken measurements and created a rough diagram, which he'd subsequently converted into a large, full-color, professional-quality exhibit. That, too, was now received in evidence and then explained in detail by the witness. So the jurors were treated to yet a third version of the events. But if any of them seemed to mind, their faces weren't showing it.
Every one of them continued to give John Wayne their rapt attention.
Next, Firestone turned to the issue of speed. Was it possible, he wanted to know, to determine how fast the van had been moving when its driver had first hit the brakes? Yes it was, replied Sheetz. By measuring the length of the skid marks, factoring in the coefficient of friction of the road surface, and referring to charts that had been developed from thousands of hours of testing, one could come up with the speed of the van within a margin of error of five percent.
FIRESTONE: And what answer did you come up with?
SHEETZ: According to my observations and calculations, when the van's wheels first locked up, it was traveling at a speed of forty-six miles per hour, give or take two and a half miles an hour either way, at most.
FIRESTONE: In other words, under the speed limit?
