“Still,” says Kline, “based on your scientific knowledge and experience, were you able to form any conclusions regarding the hair found on the subject blanket, and that found in the defendant’s residence and his vehicle?”
“In my professional opinion,” says Stinegold, “the specimens of hair taken from the blanket matched in all microscopic characteristics, color, texture, structural surfaces, and thickness the samples of hair combed from various items of furniture and carpeting at the defendant’s home and his vehicle.”
“In your professional opinion were they the same?”
“In my professional opinion they were,” says Stinegold.
Hair and fibers may not be definitive elements like fingerprints, but at this moment it seems to produce a quantum shift of momentum in the jury box that is nearly palpable. It is something you gain from experience in a courtroom, the perception that if you are to survive, particular evidence demands a response.
There are several things that are not helpful to the state regarding trace evidence, and Kline has made the mistake of trying to ignore them, so on cross examination I start with these. The first is the metallurgy report.
“Mr. Stinegold, did you not find microscopic scrapings of precious metal on the edge of the coffee table in Brittany Hall’s apartment, near the point where the victim’s head made impact?”
“There were some,” he says.
“Why didn’t you talk about these during your direct examination by Mr. Kline?”
“I wasn’t asked,” he says.
“Fine. Then perhaps I should ask now. Were these significant?” If he says “yes” it compounds his avoidance of the issue on direct, so Stinegold says, “No.”
“The scrapings, in your opinion, weren’t significant?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We examined them and determined that they were probably old, something that could have been deposited on the table months before the murder.” He spouts some garbage about the bloodstains being on top of the metal, which he quickly abandons when pressed.
“Can you tell the jury what these scrapings were composed of?”
“Traces of gold, twenty-four karat, with some alloys.”
“Something from a piece of jewelry, perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” he says.
“But not significant?”
“Not in my view,” he says.
“Then perhaps you can explain to the jury why you examined every piece of gold jewelry belonging to my client?”
“Just to be thorough,” he says.
“Just to be thorough?” I ask.
“Right.”
“And in being thorough did you take microscopic scrapings of each piece of my client’s jewelry for comparison with the scrapings found on that table?”
Stinegold nearly pouts. “What we could find.”
“Move to strike as not responsive. Stinegold would have the jury believe that Acosta discarded the incriminating piece, when there is no evidence of this.”
Radovich sustains my motion.
“Did you or did you not take microscopic scrapings from each piece of my client’s jewelry for comparison with the scrapings found on that table?”
“We did.”
“And did you subject those samples to metallurgic analysis?”
“Yes.”
“And did you find that the metal on that table matched any of the scrapings from my client’s jewelry?”
“No,” he says.
“It did not match?” I turn with a look of wonder toward the jury.
“No,” he says.
“Oh. So I can assume that we would have heard about it during your direct examination if there had been a match?”
“Objection. Calls for speculation,” says Kline.
Not in the jury’s mind. They are now wondering why Kline has hidden this. Stand up and take a bow, fool.
“Rephrase the question,” says Radovich.
“Happy to, Your Honor. Mr. Stinegold, tell the jury, isn’t it a fact that, in your mind, these metal scrapings didn’t become old and insignificant until after you failed to identify a match with Mr. Acosta’s jewelry?”
“That’s not so,” he says.
“But you have absolutely no scientific basis for your judgment that the scrapings on that table were old?”
“We believed they were,” he says.
“What is this, an article of faith?” I ask him.
“Badgering the witness,” says Kline.
I ignore him. “I asked you about a scientific basis. Did you have one?”
“No.”
“Thank you. So, based solely on the scientific evidence, on what we know about these metal scrapings, that they were found near the point of impact with the victim’s head, and that they did not match any of the jewelry belonging to the defendant, in your professional judgment wouldn’t this be evidence that could be viewed as tending to exonerate my client? Tending to show that he is not guilty?”
“Objection. That’s a matter for the jury,” says Kline.
“Sustained,” says Radovich. “I think you’ve made your point,” he says.
I turn next to the numbers game, the carpet fibers presumably from Acosta’s vehicle. I press Stinegold on the dye lots, asking him if he can tell us how many vehicles GM made that year that might have used the same carpet from the same supplier. He has no idea, so when I ask him if he would be surprised if that number were in the thousands, he is forced to admit that it is a possibility.
“Still,” he says, “not all of those vehicles would use carpet of the same color or dye lot.” He looks at Kline with some satisfaction as he says this.
I press him on the county fleet, the fact that the motor pool purchases cars in lots, several at a time from the same manufacturer, and that these might roll off the assembly line in sequence.
“Assuming that this might be so,” I say, “is it possible that vehicles with the same color and representing the same dye lot might be found in that motor pool?”
Stinegold is not as happy with this. “It is possible,” he says.
“Would you be surprised if I told you that records from the county motor pool reveal that nine vehicles were purchased by the county from the same manufacturer, each one the same vintage as the defendant’s county-assigned car, and that seven of these were produced at the same assembly plant, with the same color carpet?”
He gives me no answer.
“Did you know that?” I ask.
“No,” he says.
I have been busy with a special master, a former prosecutor, a lawyer assigned by the court to receive evidence from our own experts in this regard. We have been busy running these vehicles down and collecting carpet fibers.
This opens the door a crack, and I turn to horses.
“So did you find it?” I ask him.
“Find what?” he says.
“The horse whose hair this is?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Did you look?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We didn’t see the point,” he says. “We had the hair in the defendant’s house and his car. Besides, as I stated, it would not be possible to trace the hair to a specific horse.”
“Did you check any of the other people who ride at that particular stable to see if there was similar hair at their houses or in their cars?”
“No.”
“Why not?” The lawyer’s bag of bones, all the things the prosecution didn’t do.
“Again, we didn’t see the point.”
“Wouldn’t it have been instructive to know how many horses at that stable might have provided a match to the hair found on that blanket?”
“Not really.”
“Mr. Stinegold, isn’t it a fact that, except for color, and some exotic breeds that have unique textural characteristics, that one horse hair is likely to look very much like another?”
“Color would be a differentiating element,” he says. The one he grasps for here.
“Do you know what color the horse was who dropped the hair found on the blanket?”