For more than half an hour, Bullock dwelt on the man’s professional credentials, including a review of prestigious cases he had worked on—indeed, had practically solved single-handedly, if you believed Bullock.
Finally he brought the witness around to the case at hand.
“Dr. Camilieri, have you had any connection with the case that is presently before the court?”
The doctor was a thin man wearing a tweedy coat that seemed about two sizes too big for him. “Yes, I have.”
“How were you involved?”
“I was the blood expert called to the scene by Sergeant Tomlinson.”
“And who is Sergeant Tomlinson?”
“He’s Lieutenant Morelli’s assistant.”
“And, as we’ve previously been told, Lieutenant Morelli was the investigating homicide officer in charge at the scene, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
Bullock paused and did a little pirouette around the podium. “Now, before you tell us what you did, I’d like to ask you what you saw. When you arrived at the scene, what did you see?”
Camilieri shrugged. “It … seemed like a standard crime scene.”
“Were there hordes of gawking tourists?”
“No. No one but authorized police personnel.”
“Had the blood evidence been contaminated?”
“Not in any way that I was aware of.”
“Very good. Now, please tell us what you did.”
Camilieri took a deep breath. Recalling this job probably wasn’t any more pleasant for him than it was for anyone else. “I was shown to the three areas of the house where the bodies were found. I then removed representative blood traces from those areas, including from the bodies themselves.”
“What did you do with these blood traces?”
“I placed them on individually labeled glass slides and placed those inside individually labeled petri dishes, then sealed the dishes in individually labeled paper bags.”
“Is there any chance that the various samples could have been switched or mislabeled?” A leading question, but Ben let it pass.
“No, none. I was very careful.”
“We appreciate your professionalism, doctor.” Well, Ben thought, Bullock does, anyway. “What did you do with the samples next?”
“I took them to our central police lab for examination. I did this work in the presence of at least two witnesses at all times. These witnesses took notes on exactly what samples were being scrutinized and exactly what results were discovered.”
Ben had to admit to being impressed. Camilieri seemed to have covered every base in the chain-of-custody ballpark. He was leaving no room for a clever cross-examining defense attorney to wriggle in some reasonable doubt.
“Dr. Camilieri, would you please tell us what those results were?”
“Of course.” He inched forward a bit in his chair. This, of course, was the part everyone had been waiting for, and he knew it. “In most cases, the blood found at the scene of the crime belonged to the victim. The blood surrounding Alysha belonged to Alysha; the blood surrounding Caroline belonged to Caroline. There was one exception, however.”
He paused, giving Bullock a marvelous opportunity to draw out the suspense. “Really? An exception? What was that?”
“The blood surrounding the corpse of Caroline Barrett for the most part did belong to Caroline Barrett. But I found a few traces of blood from another source. A splatter on the bodice of the dress she was wearing, plus some smeared on her hand.”
Bullock nodded. “And did you perform an analysis of this unmatched blood?”
“I did.”
“Were you able to identify it?”
Camilieri ran a finger down the side of his nose. “Well, as I’m sure you know, it’s impossible to make an absolutely positive identification of a blood source. It isn’t like fingerprints; it isn’t that unique. What we can do, however, is identify various blood characteristics, such as type, constituency, secretions, white blood cell counts, and so forth, and determine whether the characteristics in the sample match those found in a given individual’s blood.”
“I see. And did you perform such an analysis on the unmatched blood found on the body of Caroline Barrett?”
“I did.”
“Good.” Bullock paused again, and this time he allowed his eyes to drift across the courtroom until they rested on Wallace Barrett. “Dr. Camilieri, did you ever have an opportunity to examine the blood of the defendant?”
“I did. I took a blood sample from him after he was incarcerated.”
“And did you analyze his blood for those distinguishing characteristics you described earlier?”
“I did.”
“And did you have an opportunity to match the results you received from the unidentified blood found on Caroline Barrett’s body with the blood taken from Wallace Barrett?”
“I did.”
“And what was the result of that comparison?”
Camilieri held his breath for a few moments before answering. “It was an almost perfect match.”
Bullock nodded his head grimly. “I see.” He cast a gravely disapproving glance toward Barrett, then continued his questioning. “Dr. Camilieri, have any studies been performed of these blood characteristics as they pertain to the general public?”
“Yes, the blood traits of the population have been categorized and mapped. Of course, I can’t identify the specific blood characteristics of any given individual, but I can determine the statistical likelihood of any combination occurring in the general populace.”
Ben sat up straight. Any time the prosecution started talking statistics, it was time for the defense to watch its backside.
“Did you have an opportunity to compare your findings from the unmatched blood found on the body of Caroline Barrett with the population at large?”
“I did.”
“And what did you find?”
“Objection!” Ben said. “This is not relevant. Statistical probabilities can in no way tell this jury whether the defendant committed this particular crime.”
Judge Hart removed her glasses and tapped them against the bench. “I’m familiar with those arguments, counsel, and I’m not unsympathetic to them. But I’m going to allow this.”
Ben gritted his teeth and sat back down. He knew this was going to be bad.
“Please answer the question,” Bullock said.
Camilieri nodded. “Statistically speaking, the chances of another person having exactly the same blood characteristics as Wallace Barrett are almost one in one hundred thousand. Given that the population of the Tulsa metropolitan area is only about half a million, that means there are only about five people who would make a positive match with that blood.”
Bullock pondered that information with his soberest expression. “Five people.” Once again his eyes turned toward the defendant, and this time the eyes of the jury turned with him. “And one of them is Wallace Barrett.”
“That’s correct.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I have no more questions for you.”
Chapter 50
BEN HAD CROSS-EXAMINED EXPERT witnesses before, and often enough to know that trying to attack their credentials was a fool’s game. Better to go after the statistics, to try to expose them for the intellectual game-players they were.
“Dr. Camilieri,” Ben said, “if I understood your testimony correctly, you said that there are only five people in the Tulsa area whose blood characteristics would match the blood you found near the body of Caroline Barrett.”
“That’s correct. Statistically speaking.”
“Ah. Statistically speaking. And those statistics are based on the population of the entire country, right?”