Arnie Stiversen beat a hasty retreat out of the courtroom before she could change her mind.
. . .
“The defense recalls Detective Randy Hitchens to the stand.”
The police detective stalked almost defiantly down the aisle. He was not here by choice.
“I remind you that you remain under oath, Detective Hitchens,” Grace Pelletier told him.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he said as he took his seat.
“Permission to treat the witness as hostile,” Lily requested.
“Proceed,” Grace Pelletier said.
Lily turned to her witness. “Detective Hitchens, as you have previously testified, you were in charge of the investigation into the death of Dale Scott, were you not?”
“I was.”
“And will you tell us again how you came to be in charge?”
“Chief McAllister put me in charge.”
“Under what circumstances?”
“It was just after he came in that morning, and I told him that Stiversen and Cady had found Dale, and that I had notified the M.E. and the crime scene boys.”
“And he just put you in charge?”
“Yes.”
“And if I recalled Chief McAllister to the stand, would he say that it was his idea to put you in charge of the investigation into your own partner’s death?”
Hitchens shifted in his seat. “I don’t know what he would say. I’m just saying that’s how I remember it.”
“And if Chief McAllister were to testify that you all but demanded to be put in charge of the investigation, what would you say?”
Hitchens shrugged. “I’d say I don’t remember it that way. But what difference does it make? Dale was my partner, and he was dead. And I wanted to make sure everything in the investigation was done by the book, so that no shyster lawyer would be able to come around after the fact and get my partner’s killer off on a technicality.”
Lily ignored the remark. “At sixteen minutes past six, you called Officer Dawson and told him that someone had been killed in the seaward alley,” she said. “How did you know that someone had been killed in the seaward alley?”
“I didn’t know. I just told him a body had been found.”
“Well, what if I told you that Officer Dawson has already testified that he remembers you telling him someone had been killed in the alley?”
Hitchens shrugged. “Well, someone had been killed in the alley.”
“Yes, but how did you know that? Officer Stiversen didn’t call that information in until after six-thirty.”
“From the 911 call, I guess.”
“I don’t think so. The man who made that call reported that someone was dead -- but he had no idea how he died.”
“Well, I might have misunderstood, or jumped to a conclusion,” the detective said with a shrug.
“Or had prior knowledge, perhaps?” Lily suggested.
Hitchens glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You didn’t have to look very far for your suspect, did you?”
“No, we sure didn’t.”
“He was conveniently right on the scene, with the gun practically in his hand and no memory of what had happened.”
“I don’t know how convenient it was, but yeah, he was right there on the scene.”
“At least, you thought he had no memory of what had happened, didn’t you?” The pale eyes looking back at her widened just a bit. “But as it turns out, that’s not exactly accurate.”
“So, he’s made up some cockamamie story at the eleventh hour to try to save his neck,” the detective said derisively. “It wouldn’t be the first time a defendant tried that.”
“True, but let’s not worry about that just now. Let’s go on to something else. It would make sense, wouldn’t it, that you would want to be as thorough in your investigation as you said you did, to head off -- how did you phrase it -- some shyster lawyer coming in and getting him off?”
“I tried to be.”
“Did you? And yet you didn’t bother to test my client’s clothing for blood spatter. Why was that?”
Hitchens was prepared for this question. “In hindsight, it’s clear I should have,” he said. “But at the time, I guess I wasn’t thinking about hindsight. We have a pretty tight budget in our department, and since we had a positive GSR result, it was obvious we had the right man, and I didn’t think it was necessary to spend any extra money just to put icing on the cake.”
“You’re sure that was the only reason, Detective Hitchens?” Lily asked. “You’re sure there wasn’t another reason?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the very real possibility that there was no blood spatter on Jason Lightfoot’s clothing, and you knew it, and that’s why you chose not to request the test.”
The witness’s body stiffened and his pale eyes flickered ever so slightly. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What do you think happened to that clothing, Detective?”
“I have no idea,” he replied. “I assume it got disposed of at some point.”
“Well, what if I were to tell you that it didn’t get disposed of -- that the clothing Jason Lightfoot was wearing on the night your partner was killed is sitting in a paper bag at the Jackson County Jail, and has been sitting there since three weeks after it was originally collected?”
Hitchens hesitated for perhaps a second or two, not necessarily long enough for the jury to notice, but definitely long enough for Lily to notice, and for Tom Lickliter to notice, as well.
“I’d say it should be tested immediately,” he said. “But of course, that’s assuming it can be proven that the chain of custody hasn’t been broken.”
“Very good, Detective,” Lily said with an appreciative nod. “After all these months, chain of custody would definitely be an issue. So, that leaves us with an interesting question, doesn’t it? Would a blood spatter test performed on Jason Lightfoot’s clothing immediately after his arrest for Dale Scott’s murder have incriminated him -- or exonerated him?”
Hitchens shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“You’re probably right,” Lily conceded. “Especially when you consider that the clothing isn’t really sitting in a bag at the jail. It was signed out of police headquarters two days after
