“You mean, like the intensity of the victim’s concentration, his peripheral vision…?”
“That and whether he was actually in a position to glimpse the screen at the particular moment, whether the set was on or off…”
“But you said earlier that the set was turned off when you arrived and that it was off when the first officers arrived on the scene, did you not?”
“That’s correct. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that it was off at the time the victim was killed.”
“I see. So you’re assuming that after the murder someone turned the television off?”
“I’m not assuming anything,” he says. “I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”
“Well, let’s see. Who could have turned the set off? Certainly not the victim.”
“No.”
“Perhaps the maid who found the body? Did you or any of your officers ask her if perhaps she tiptoed around all that blood, found the remote, and turned the television off before she reported the body?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe she came back after reporting the body and turned the set off then. Did you ask her that?”
“No.” Eyes that had laugh lines at the outer edges a few seconds ago are now two little slits projecting death rays from the witness stand.
“Ah, I see. You think the murderer, whoever killed Professor Scarborough, beat him to death, spraying blood all over the ceiling and walls, carried a tray with food into the room from out in the hall, laid it all out on a table, and then, before he panicked and ran from the scene, the perpetrator took the time to find the remote and turn off the television set?”
Two of the jurors are now laughing.
“Anything’s possible,” says Detrick. “What I’m saying is that I simply don’t know.”
“Well, maybe we should just stick with what we do know, that the television set was turned off when the first officers arrived at the scene. That much we know, right?”
“Right,” he says.
“By the way, Detective, do you know where the remote device for the television was located that morning as your officers and technicians processed the scene?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t.”
I produce one of the photographs already in evidence. There is a clear shot of the handheld remote on a shelf against the wall, just off to the left side of the television.
“Yes, I see it,” he says.
“So if the set was on at the time of the murder, and for some reason the killer wanted to turn it off, he would have to step over or around the body and either turn it off on the set itself or reach over and get the remote. In either case he’d have to walk through the field of blood on the carpet to do it, is that correct? Or do you see some other way?”
“Not unless he could fly,” says Detrick. “That’s the only way.”
“And in the photograph do you see any indications or signs of bloody footprints directly in front of the television or the shelf where the remote is located?” I show him the photograph again. “Go ahead, take a look.”
He puts his glasses on again and looks closely at the picture. “Not that I can see in the photograph.”
“So do you think it’s possible that we can safely conclude that the television was off at the time of the murder?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“And if that was the condition of the set at the time of the murder, that it was turned off, a dark screen on that set would have provided anyone sitting in the chair where the victim was seated and who looked at that screen with a pretty good image by way of reflection of anything moving around him or behind him, is that not true?”
“If he was looking at the screen, yes.”
“And if the television was off, it wasn’t making any sound either, was it?”
“I assume not.”
“Well, did you hear any music or television dialogue coming from that television when you arrived at the scene?”
“No.”
“So it wasn’t putting out any sound?”
“No.”
“So in addition to providing a good visual cue, a warning by way of reflection in the screen, the fact that the television was off meant there was no noise to mask the sounds of any entry or footsteps approaching from behind, isn’t that true?”
“That’s true.”
“Detective Detrick, in your capacity as an expert in crime-scene reconstruction, let me pose a hypothetical question. If the victim in this case, Professor Scarborough, was intensely focused, working on something, papers of some kind, and someone came to the door, someone he knew and trusted, is it not possible that he might get up, go to the door, open it, let that person in, and immediately return to the chair where he was working before this other person even entered the room?”
He thinks about this for a moment, all the little facets, and then tries to slip away. “I would expect that someone who opened the door and allowed a guest in would welcome that guest, show them in, and then close the door behind them.”
“Yes, but remember, in my hypothetical the victim was very busy working, studying some papers. Assume he was pressed for time, in a hurry. And the person at the door was someone he was on a casual basis with, someone he trusted…”
“It’s possible, I suppose, although…” He thinks of something else. “In that case the victim would have seen the murder weapon, the hammer,” he says. “I assume it would be in the assailant’s hand when the victim opened the door.”
“Let’s assume that the hammer was concealed under a garment or in a bag or a briefcase. Now, isn’t the situation that I posed a possibility?”
“It’s possible,” he says.
“If that were the situation in this case, that would leave the victim back seated in the chair, hard at work, and the perpetrator behind him, somewhere near the door in the entry hall, is that correct?”
“Um…yes.”
“Now, if we can assume that the television is off, so that there is a reflection in the screen, and further that there’s no sound coming from the set to mask footsteps approaching from behind-and we’ve already established that this was the case, right?”
“Right.” The way he says it, it’s almost a question. Detrick isn’t sure where I’m going.
“But given those assumptions, does it really matter?”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand the question,” he says.
This is the best kind of response, one that allows me to testify.
“I mean if it’s someone the victim knows and he knows they’re already there in the room, why would he bother to pay any attention to reflections of movement on the screen or the sound of footsteps in the entry? He would expect these, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that would explain it, wouldn’t it? Why the victim, Professor Scarborough, didn’t react to any of the physical cues, the sounds or images, as the killer approached him? If it was someone he knew. He hears him coming from behind, so what? He’s looking down, engrossed in his papers, maybe catches only a fleeting glimpse of motion on the screen. That would be a pretty good explanation, wouldn’t it?”
This is important, because later testimony from the medical examiner will reveal that there were no defensive wounds on the victim’s hand or arms. If he was surprised by a reflection in the screen or heard steps, why didn’t he react, move, perhaps raise an arm to defend himself? But he didn’t.
Detrick goes through a lot of shrugging here. You might think the collar on his shirt or his necktie is too tight. Then he says, “Possible. But the problem is there are other possibilities based on your own hypothetical.”
“Like what, for example?”
“Well, using your own hypothetical,” he says, “with only one simple variation, let’s assume that someone did come to the door, but it was not someone the victim knew. Let’s say it was someone he didn’t know, but who he expected. Say, for example, the victim ordered a meal…” As soon as he says the words, he begins to smile. He’s wondering how I’m going to cut him off in front of the jury without leaving dangerous lingering questions. Something like, I’ll ask the questions, Detective. But instead I let him go. He can’t believe it.