“Yes I have.”
“Please tell the jury what you’ve done.”
Grayson retook his seat, then adjusted himself to face the jury. “I was asked to examine the bite mark found by the coroner on the victim’s arm. The injury was clearly a bite mark, but the impression was not deep. To make matters worse, the burning of the skin in the area made any identification all the more difficult. Conventional identification techniques were of no avail.”
“So what did you do?”
“I used the ultraviolet technique I described for you earlier. Frankly, I was not optimistic. The damage to the skin was so extensive I wondered if even my special techniques would work. Happily, they did.”
“Were you able to make a dental identification?”
“I was. May I return to my charts?”
Judge Pickens nodded. Grayson retook his former position and pointed to the last remaining chart. “This is a record of the bite mark as it first appeared when the coroner discovered it. As you can see, the impression is vague in places and indistinct. It was not useful. But after being viewed through my special infrared process”-he overlaid a clear transparency that fit perfectly atop the principal chart-“it became this.” Jurors’ eyes widened, obviously impressed. What they now saw was an almost perfectly detailed row of teeth.
“Was this record sufficient to make a comparison?”
“It was. I obtained the dental records of the defendant, which the police had already subpoenaed. Watch what happens when I now lay his teeth on top of the enhanced bite mark.” Grayson overlaid yet another transparency, bearing another row of teeth, precisely on top of the other. As was almost immediately apparent, it was virtually identical.
“Dr. Grayson,” Granny asked, “in your opinion, does this constitute a match?”
“It most certainly does.”
“Then let me ask you the most important question. Would you say, based upon your extensive medical knowledge and analysis, that this bite mark was made by the defendant George Zakin?”
“Indeed and without a doubt.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I have no more questions.”
Chapter 48
Ben strode to the podium cautiously, planning his approach. He would have to be careful with Grayson. He would love nothing more than to take the good dentist down a peg or two. But he knew it wouldn’t be easy; if nothing else, Grayson was a very smart man and a very experienced witness.
“Dr. Grayson, you mentioned that you have a private dental practice.”
“That’s correct.” He seemed perfectly at ease, more than willing to answer Ben’s little questions.
“But you don’t actually spend much time filling cavities these days, do you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You spend most of your time now as a professional witness, don’t you?”
“Objection to the phrase,” Granny said. “It’s offensive.”
“I’ll rephrase,” Ben said, feeling gracious. “You spend most of your time testifying, right?”
“Well … I haven’t really kept time records on myself.”
“How many times have you testified in the last two years?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Well, I do.” Ben glanced down at the research Jones had faxed him that morning. “Twenty-seven times in the last two years. Does that sound about right?”
“I suppose so.”
“And every time for the prosecution.”
Grayson appeared nonplussed. “In my experience, defendants rarely want their teeth traced.”
That got him a brief titter from the jury box. Ben ignored it. “How much do you make when you’re hired to work on a case?” It varies.
“You don’t have a standard rate?” Ben glanced again at his notes. “Because I thought-”
“I get two hundred and fifty dollars an hour,” Grayson said. Ben noticed a few jurors reacting to that bit of information. “Sometimes I work at a discount, when there’s good cause involved.”
How noble. “The fact is, you’ve become so popular in the last few years as a witness for the prosecution that you don’t have to fill cavities anymore, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve developed a reputation as the man who can see what no one else can see.”
“I have been fortunate enough to participate in many successful prosecutions.”
“And prosecutors are always on the lookout for someone willing to say anything-if the price is right. Aren’t they?”
“Your honor!” Granny leaped to her feet. “That is grossly offensive.”
Ben cut off Pickens with a ready apology. “I’m sorry, your honor. I withdraw the question.” Might as well, he thought. The point is made. And he had a lot more ground to cover; he couldn’t afford to have Pickens go ballistic this early in the game.
“Dr. Grayson, would it be fair to say that your entire testimony hinges on the reliability of your blue-light special-that is, your infrared viewing technique?”
“I suppose.”
“Without this special technique, you’ll admit that it would be impossible to trace this bite mark back to my client-or to anyone else for that matter.”
“That’s true. That’s why I was called in.”
“Well then, since your entire testimony depends on the reliability of this procedure, let’s talk about it. Is there any precedent for this at all?”
“Of course. Scientists have been experimenting for years with the use of blue light to enhance visual acuity.”
“But no one else does what you’re doing.”
“It is a well-established scientific fact that skin fluoresces under a blue light.”
“Excuse me, Doctor. Normal skin fluoresces under a blue light. Damaged skin doesn’t. Right?”
Grayson tilted his head. “It seems you’re better informed than I realized, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Well, I try.”
“It is true that damaged skin doesn’t fluoresce.”
“And the bite wound you examined was extremely damaged, wasn’t it?”
“I was just mentioning that by way of example. My technique does not rely on skin fluorescence.”
“What does it rely on?”
“Well … of course, that’s very complicated.”
“Is there a book I could read on the subject? Some kind of documentation? ’Cause I have to tell you, I’ve looked, and I didn’t find any.”
“I … I have not published my research.”
“Because you want to keep this cash cow to yourself?”
Granny rocketed up. “Your honor!”
Pickens’s teeth were tightly clenched. “Mr. Kincaid, I will not put up with this abusive conduct in my courtroom!”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m just trying to determine why this pioneering scientific research has not been published.”
“I submitted it for publication,” Grayson said. “Three different medical journals. They all declined to publish.”
“Because they all thought it was a lot of hooey, right?” Ben looked up quickly. “That’s a scientific technical term, your honor.”
Pickens grunted his reply.
Grayson made a small coughing noise. “I attribute their hesitance more to professional jealousy.”
“Professional jealousy?”
“You have to understand-there still tends to be a bit of the ivory tower in the scientific community. Research is supposed to be pure; if it becomes profitable, then it’s tainted. Or so some believe. And as you pointed out yourself, my research has become quite profitable.”
Ben nodded. “I see. Is that why you were drummed out of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences?”
Grayson squirmed slightly. “As a matter of fact, it is.”
Ben glanced at his notes. “The stated reason for your expulsion was that you were, quote, ‘failing to follow generally accepted scientific techniques’ and ‘affirming scientific opinions that could not be verified or reproduced.’ ”
“I’m sure they said something like that. Nonetheless, my technique works, and they just can’t stand that.”
“But it’s true that you don’t follow generally accepted scientific techniques.”