Attorney by Steve Martini

Author:Steve Martini [Martini, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780755320066
Publisher: Clearway Logistics Phase 1a
Published: 2000-12-15T19:47:29+00:00

"I did."

"Do you recall the grain weight of the two rounds in question?"

"I'd have to look at my report," he says.

"May I approach the witness?" I ask Peltro.

He nods. I have the stapled sheaf of paper in my hand. I show it to Morris.

"Page five of the autopsy report," I tell the court. Ryan flipping pages.

"Looks like ninety-four point three grains on one, and the other was fragmented. Hit the bone," he says. "That one was only eighty-two, with fragments."

"Let's concentrate on the bullet weighing ninety-four point three grains for the moment." I turn, heading back toward the rostrum.

"Is that the usual grain weight for a nine-millimeter bullet?"

"Your Honor, this goes beyond the size and caliber of the round," says Ryan.

"If the witness knows, he can answer the question," says Peltro.

"I'm not sure," says Morris. He's looking for a way out, taking the judge's lead.

"Doctor, isn't it a fact that the normal weight for a ninemillimeter bullet, the usual store-bought round, is a hundred and fifteen grains?"

"A hundred and fifteen sounds right," he says.

"And yet both of these bullets are well under that weight." He says nothing, just nods.

"Do you know the grain weight of a three-eighty or short nine-millimeter bullet?" He makes a face, a dozen expressions of concession, then comes up with it off the top of his head. "Ninety-five grains?" He says it like a question, but it's clear he knows the answer.

"Right. So isn't it likely these were three-eighty rounds?"

"Probably," he says. "Still nine millimeter in terms of caliber." He won't give up on the point.

"But in a smaller cartridge, right?"

"Probably."

"And less powder in that cartridge?"

"I would say so."

"So your estimates of the distance, the maximum distance, I might add, for tattooing aren't correct at eighteen to twenty-four inches, are they?"

"That's approximate," he says.

"Isn't it more likely that the maximum range is closer to twelve inches?"

"It's possible," he says.

All I'm going to get from the witness, little victories composed of possibilities.

"Now that's the farthest distance we're talking about, isn't it?" I start to bear down.

"Perhaps." I look up at him.

"Yes," he says.

"Wasn't there scorching on her vest?"

"There was some scorching."

"Wouldn't this point to a much closer shot than your previous testimony would indicate?"

"As I said, these are estimates of range. Of the distance."

"Isn't it possible that the victim could have struggled for the weapon in question?"

"What do you mean, 'struggled'?" he says.

"Doctor, did you find powder residue on the victim's hands?"

"Defensive wounds," he says. "This would be expected if she had raised her hands in a defensive gesture as the gun was being fired." I begin paging through his report as he studies me from the wit ness box through spectacled Coke-bottle bottoms.

"Doctor, did you bag the hands of the victim at the scene?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"Isn't it usual procedure in most homicides to place a victim's hands in paper bags, tie them off around the wrist to preserve trace evidence under the fingernails?"

"Sometimes," says Morris. "Depends on the crime."

"I see. And for what kind of crime would you bag the victim's hands?" He thinks for a second.

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