Mary took the news like a body blow. She tried to piece together what must have gone on behind the scenes. After Detective Randolph had spoken to DHS, DHS would have put him in contact with Cassandra. Cassandra would have had to cooperate with law enforcement, but Mary hoped that Cassandra had also told the detective that Patrick loved Edward and never would’ve hurt him intentionally.
Chan-Willig continued her questioning, “Detective Randolph, would you tell the court your theory of how Edward O’Brien died?”
Detective Randolph nodded. “It’s too early to have a final theory of the case, but I’m investigating whether Patrick injected his grandfather with insulin, causing his death.”
“Detective Randolph, do you have a theory, final or otherwise, about a motive that Patrick would have for intentionally injecting his grandfather with a lethal dose of insulin?”
Mary felt like objecting, but didn’t dare. She looked over, but John’s attention was riveted on the witness, as was Abby’s.
Detective Randolph nodded. “Yes.”
Chan-Willig stood tall. “Detective Randolph, what is your theory as regards to Patrick’s motive?”
“That Patrick suffered physical and sexual abuse at the hands of his grandfather, which would provide motive.”
Mary felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She couldn’t imagine where Detective Randolph had gotten his theory of motive. Edward never would have abused Patrick. It couldn’t have come from Cassandra. Robertson was the one who had abused Patrick, and Cassandra had known that. Mary felt utterly dumbfounded.
“Objection!” John leapt to his feet. “Your Honor, this is inadmissible. There are no facts in evidence to support this testimony, and even though procedural rules are informal in shelter care hearings, this is beyond the pale. It’s plainly unreliable and speculative.”
Chan-Willig turned to the judge. “Your Honor, it’s insulting that Mr. Foxman would call Detective Randolph unreliable in any way. You have heard his years of expertise and service in law enforcement. Detective Randolph is more than qualified to explain to the Court his theory of motive in this case, even though it is in its formative stages.”
Judge Green folded his arms, his mouth set grimly. “The objection is denied. Counsel, both of you, sit down. I will not allow this proceeding to get out of hand.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” John sat down, as did Chan-Willig.
Judge Green glowered at John. “Mr. Foxman, we’re not trying to determine beyond a reasonable doubt whether Patrick is guilty of the murder of his grandfather. We’re merely trying to determine where Patrick should live, and the standard for that is far lower. Detective Randolph’s testimony is probative and extremely helpful to the Court in making that determination. In addition, I’m aware that his testimony comes as a surprise to you, but I’ll advise you to limit your objections. I’ve had more objections today than I have all year. Are we clear, Mr. Foxman?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” John nodded, and Mary tried to piece together her thoughts. Patrick’s forensic interview with Cassandra was confidential, but not from law enforcement. Detective Randolph’s theory of the case and the new suspicions about Edward’s death pointed to Patrick’s guilt, which was just plain wrong.
Judge Green sighed, his impatience plain. “Ms. Chan-Willig, please wrap this up. I have your point.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Chan-Willig faced Detective Randolph. “Detective Randolph, what have you done to further your investigation of Edward O’Brien’s death?”
“I went to the residence on Moretone Street and conducted a walk-through myself, last night at about ten o’clock. I declared it a crime scene, established a perimeter, and called a mobile tech team to collect trace evidence, typically hair, fibers, and fingerprints. They arrived shortly thereafter.”
“Detective Randolph, what has your or their investigation revealed that might be of interest to this Court?”
“As I testified, my investigation is in a preliminary stage, but we found a used syringe of insulin in the wastebasket of Edward O’Brien’s bedroom, where his body was found in bed, it had a child’s fingerprints.”
“Detective Randolph, did you draw any relevant conclusion regarding the syringe used to inject Edward O’Brien for the last time, the lethal dose of insulin?”
“Yes. The fingerprints on the syringe match the child’s fingerprints we also found in Patrick’s bedroom, so we tentatively believe that the fingerprints on the syringe used last are Patrick’s fingerprints.”
Chan-Willig paused to let the testimony sink in. “Detective Randolph, moving on, what are the problems that you or Dr. Chopra are encountering in your investigation?”
“Yes, Edward O’Brien’s death was reported by Ms. DiNunzio, who called 911 at around nine o’clock on Friday night, October 9. However, as I testified, there was a significant delay between the time of death and the time of report. Dr. Chopra told me that the delay between the time of death and the notification to police impedes his forensic investigation.” Detective Randolph turned to Judge Green. “I’m no pathologist, so I won’t speak to that in detail. For my part, the delay in reporting the death impedes my investigation because of the possibility of contamination of the crime scene.”
Mary tried to remain composed, realizing the facts made Patrick look guilty when he wasn’t. She was the only one who knew that Patrick had been in denial that Edward had died, not because Patrick had killed him but because he loved him so much. She wracked her brain for a way to counteract it when they put on their case, other than her testimony. She thought of calling Cassandra as a witness, but Cassandra was now in touch with Detective Randolph, so she couldn’t testify for Patrick.
“Detective Randolph, was there any problem with contamination of the crime scene that you encountered in your investigation?”
“Yes, numerous problems. Specifically, the search for other trace evidence in the bedroom where Edward died has been impeded because someone cleaned up the scene. Edward’s bedsheets had been washed and set folded on the bed, the top of his dresser was clear, and his night table had been swept clean, though we found the most recent syringe discarded in the wastebasket.”
“Detective Randolph, do you have a theory as to who cleaned up Edward’s bedroom?”
Detective Randolph glanced at Mary. “It’s my understanding that Mary DiNunzio was the only one in the house with Patrick. We assume she is the one who cleaned it up. We do not currently know when she arrived at the house.”
Mary kept her face rigidly forward and her expression impassive. The testimony made it look as if she covered up Edward’s death after the fact. When she took the stand, she would just have to explain that she hadn’t done it to hide evidence of a murder, because there had been no murder. Patrick hadn’t killed Edward, at least not on purpose. Maybe Edward had forgotten that he’d already injected himself and asked Patrick to inject him before bedtime. Mary couldn’t explain why the needlemark was in a different location and she would have to ask Patrick why he did that. But he wasn’t a killer.
“Detective Randolph, why wasn’t the house declared a crime scene that very night when you were called, so that evidence wasn’t lost or destroyed?”
“Ms. DiNunzio reported it as a natural death, which was confirmed by the assistant medical examiner on the scene because of the circumstances, a seventy-two-year-old man in ill health who had died in his sleep. It wasn’t until the autopsy that the stray needlemark was found.”
“Detective Randolph, given the information that you have at this point, have you formed an opinion as to Patrick’s dangerousness that may be helpful to the Court in deciding where to place him?”
“Yes, I have an opinion as to Patrick’s dangerousness.”
“Detective Randolph, what is your opinion?”
“My opinion is that Patrick may have been involved in the death of his grandfather and is dangerous.”
“Thank you, I have no further questions.”
Judg
e Green swiveled his head to John, with a frown. “Mr. Foxman, any cross-examination?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” John answered, standing up.
Mary prayed he’d repair the damage, but she had no idea how.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
John stood a respectful distance from the witness stand. “Detective Randolph, you testified that your investigation is barely in the preliminary stages, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“In fact, your investigation is only hours old, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Randolph, isn’t it also true that it’s not even a murder investigation yet, because there is officially no murder?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“So it’s a murder investigation without a murder?”
“Well, yes.” Detective Randolph half-smiled.
“Detective Randolph, so isn’t it fair to say that your theory isn’t something you’d want to stake your reputation on, is it?”
“Yes, I absolutely wouldn’t stake my reputation on it.”
“Detective Randolph, isn’t it true that as you learn new facts, your theory of the case may change?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“For example, Detective Randolph, let’s assume that Patrick injected his grandfather that night, but did so at his grandfather’s request and with absolutely no intent to harm his grandfather. That’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s possible.”
“In fact, that’s completely possible, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s completely possible.”
“And Detective Randolph, if that were the case, wouldn’t the manner of death be considered accidental, not homicide?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“And Detective Randolph, isn’t it also true that if that were the case, there would be no reason to believe that Patrick was dangerous, in terms of his custodial placement?”
“Yes, that’s true, too,” Detective Randolph admitted.
“Detective Randolph, if you were to find out that Patrick injected his grandfather at his grandfather’s request and with no intent to harm him, you would have no opinion at all as to Patrick’s custodial placement, would you?”
“True.”
“Detective Randolph, you have testified about Patrick’s alleged dangerousness, but you have never met Patrick, have you?”
“No, I have not.”
“Detective Randolph, have you ever before given an opinion, in any court, about an adult or child without ever having met them?”
“No,” Detective Randolph admitted, after a moment.
Watching, Mary thought that John was scoring some points, but Judge Green’s expression remained stone-faced as he watched the testimony. There wasn’t much else John could do to undermine Detective Randolph’s testimony, but she knew he would try with all his might.
“Detective Randolph, isn’t it true that you first learned that Patrick was the victim of alleged abuse when you spoke with Cassandra Porter at the Philadelphia Children’s Alliance?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Randolph, isn’t it true that it was Patrick’s grandfather and Ms. DiNunzio who took Patrick to the Philadelphia Children’s Alliance to investigate his allegations of abuse?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Randolph, isn’t it true that Cassandra Porter told you that Patrick had never accused his grandfather of physical and sexual abuse?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Randolph, isn’t it also true that Cassandra Porter told you that Patrick made abuse allegations against someone other than Edward O’Brien?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“So Detective Randolph, isn’t it a fact that the basis for your assumption that Patrick was abused by his grandfather is merely the disbelief of his allegations that someone else abused him?”
Detective Randolph paused, frowning. “Yes, that is true. Cassandra told me that Patrick said that a teacher’s aide abused him, but I began to question whether it was really his grandfather who abused him and he blamed it on the teacher’s aide.”
“Exactly my point.” John squared his shoulders. “You have no facts on which to base a belief that Patrick was abused by his grandfather, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes. At this point, that is correct.”
“I have no further questions.”
Judge Green said to Detective Randolph, “Thank you for your testimony. You may step down.”
“Thank you.” Detective Randolph stood up. “Your Honor, I assume I may leave the courtroom?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for your time.”
John returned to counsel table and sat down, as Mary wrote him a note, WELL DONE. He smiled, but they both knew that the testimony was so damaging they would have to fight extra hard to recover, if they even had a chance.
Chan-Willig was already on her feet, facing Judge Green. “Your Honor, may I call my next witness? I’d like to call Olivia Solo of DHS, Your Honor.”
“Certainly.” Judge Green nodded.
Mary sat back, bracing herself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Mary watched with dread as Olivia was sworn in and sat down in the witness stand. She could feel John tense beside her, and Abby looked equally worried, biting her lip. Abby had told Mary that DHS was the heavyweight in a shelter care hearing, and Olivia’s testimony would only reinforce Detective Randolph’s.
Chan-Willig stood closer to the witness stand. “Ms. Solo, please tell the Court where you work.”
“I’m a caseworker at Department of Human Services, DHS.”
“How long have you worked at DHS?”
“Since I got out of college, so almost ten years.”
“Ms. Solo, did there come a time when you met Patrick O’Brien?”
“Yes, on October 10. I was called to the house the morning after his grandfather died. I went to pick him up because I had arranged placement for him with one of the families on our emergency fosters list.”
“Ms. Solo, what happened when you went to the house that morning?”
“I had a conversation in the living room with Ms. DiNunzio and I could see that Patrick was manipulating Ms. DiNunzio, so I asked her to come with me in the kitchen for a private conversation. There, I told Ms. DiNunzio that she was undermining my efforts to take Patrick into DHS custody and I told her that I would ask her to leave the premises if she would not cooperate.”
Chan-Willig frowned. “So it is your testimony that Ms. DiNunzio was not cooperating with DHS’s efforts?”
“Yes, that is exactly my testimony.” Olivia shot Mary an unabashedly angry look, but Mary masked her reaction, which was vaguely homicidal.
Chan-Willig asked, “Ms. Solo, would you please tell the Court what happened when you and Ms. DiNunzio left the kitchen?”
Olivia readjusted to look up at the judge. “We came out of the kitchen and all of a sudden Patrick threatened to shoot us with a gun.”
“A gun?” Judge Green blurted out, recoiling. “Did you say, a gun?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Olivia answered, indignant.
“But he’s ten years old!”
“Just the same, he’s very dangerous, Your Honor.”
“Objection, Your Honor.” John half-rose. “The testimony mischaracterizes what happened. Patrick didn’t threaten them—”
“What?” Chan-Willig shook her head. “Your Honor, there’s no basis for an objection. Mr. Foxman wasn’t present. Patrick did threaten them. The witness was there. She can so testify.”
Judge Green silenced the lawyers with a wave, focusing on Olivia. “Ms. Solo, where did the boy get the gun?”
Olivia answered, “It was in the home, Your Honor. It’s in police custody at the present time. I took it and gave it to the police. They told me it was a .45 caliber pistol, a Colt semiautomatic from the Army. They said it was used during Vietnam, but it was in working ord
er even though it was old.”
“Mr. Foxman.” Judge Green frowned, turning to John. “Do you dispute that Patrick threatened the DHS caseworker with a semiautomatic weapon?”
“Your Honor, Ms. DiNunzio was present, too, and she will testify that she did not feel threatened and the circumstances are not what Ms. Solo is describing—”
“Yes or no?” Judge Green frowned more deeply. “Do you dispute that Patrick pulled a gun on Ms. Solo and Ms. DiNunzio?”
“No.” John had to answer.
“Please sit down, Mr. Foxman.”
Mary felt her gut churn. She could see Judge Green’s expression harden. Detective Randolph’s theory that Patrick was guilty of murder seemed more reasonable than before. The case was slipping through their fingers, and so was Patrick.
Judge Green turned to the Assistant City Solicitor. “Ms. Chan-Willig, please continue with your questioning.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Chan-Willig turned to Olivia. “Ms. Solo, please continue telling the Court exactly what happened that morning, in detail.”
Olivia nodded. “So we came out of the kitchen and there was Patrick, aiming the gun at us. By the way, he was aiming it more at me, not at Ms. DiNunzio, and he yelled at the top of his lungs, ‘I’m not going anywhere with you!’ so he was clearly talking to me. He was threatening me.”
“Ms. Solo, can you describe for the court your state of mind at that time?”
“I have never in my life been so terrified.” Olivia’s eyes flew open in fear, and even Mary felt that it was genuine. “I have seen some rough-and-tumble things on this job but I have never been threatened with a gun pointed right at my chest. I was absolutely terrified to my very soul. I thought I was going to die. I prayed to God to let me live.”
Chan-Willig paused, giving the testimony some hang time. “Ms. Solo, what did you do next?”
“I ran into the kitchen and called 911 and they told me what to do. Then Mary called me to come into the living room and said she had gotten the gun, so I picked the gun off the table and I ran out to the police and I gave it to them. My heart was beating out of my chest practically, and I swear to God, it didn’t stop until, like, an hour later.”