Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series: Box Set One

  “No, I did not.”

  “And you didn’t test to rule out lung cancer, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Doctor, isn’t pneumonia one of the most common diseases leading to death?”

  “Yes.”

  “In fact, it is the sixth leading cause of death in the United States, isn’t that correct?”

  “I think so.”

  “Ricin poisoning, on the other hand, is very rare, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you expect to see fluid in the lungs in cases of pneumonia?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Wouldn’t it also not surprise you to find a pneumonia patient coughing up blood?”

  “That would not surprise me.”

  “And couldn’t tracheal lesions be caused by excessive coughing?”

  “Objection! Calls for speculation.”

  “Overruled. You may answer.”

  “Not these types of lesions.”

  “Move to strike as non-responsive, Your Honor.”

  “Denied.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor, no further questions,” said Brent, turning over the witness to Bradley Chernow.

  Chernow proceeded to rehabilitate Dr. Perez on redirect.

  “Dr. Perez, has this urine test for ricin always been around?”

  “No, it’s relatively new.”

  “Is that why the CDC is the only facility who has it?”

  “Objection, calls for speculation.”

  “Withdraw the question, Your Honor.”

  “Doctor, how long have you been aware that this urine test has been available?”

  “A couple of years.”

  “And prior to that, what was the protocol to confirm ricin poisoning?”

  “By finding an environmental sample.”

  “Which you did?”

  “Yes, Detective Tomassi did.”

  “Dr. Perez, did you have any reason to suspect tracheal cancer?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I examined the tissue of the trachea and did not see any abnormal cells. The types of symptoms that you’re talking about would only present in advanced stages of tracheal cancer.”

  “What about lung cancer?”

  “Same thing. The lung’s cells are very delicate. I didn’t find any tumors or evidence of abnormal cells in my examination.”

  “What about pneumonia?”

  “Again, my examination did not indicate pneumonia. It was ricin poisoning, pure and simple.”

  * * *

  “The People call Mr. Bennett Stevens.”

  Bennett Stevens stepped up to the clerk and was sworn, and took his place in the witness box. He was a young bureaucrat, about 30, slim and clean shaven, with cropped black hair and dark eyes.

  “Mr. Stevens, do you work for the Center for Disease Control and Prevention in DeKalb County, Georgia?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Can you please tell the jury what your position is at the Center for Disease Control?”

  “I’m a senior lab technician.”

  “And what do your duties as a senior lab technician entail?”

  “I handle laboratory tests for chronic diseases, environmental health threats and terrorism preparedness.”

  “Did you receive a urine sample from the Medical Examiner for the County of Santa Barbara for one Barbara Densmore?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “And the Medical Examiner asked for a test on the urine to detect the presence of ricin, is that correct?”

  “Yes, the CDC has developed a test for measuring ricinine, which is a marker for ricin exposure.”

  “What did you do after you received the urine sample for testing?”

  “We send out all our ricinine testing to a laboratory in our Laboratory Response Network. We have 32 laboratories in the United States who are certified biosafety level two and can perform this test.”

  Brent’s ears perked up at this. It was screaming “chain of custody” all over the place. If there was any break in that chain of custody, if any facility who had handled the sample had not followed proper protocol, the results would not be admitted into evidence.

  Chernow had the lab tech outline all the procedures for packaging, shipping and labeling the specimen, which, of course, had been properly performed by Dr. Perez himself. He went through the biosafety protocols ad nauseam. The jury was probably already lost by that time, and was fighting the boredom. A few jurors looked like they were day dreaming. A couple of others were nodding off. Then, when Chernow thought he had exhausted all possible objections, he asked, “And what were the results of the ricinine testing?”

  “Objection, lack of foundation. Chain of custody, Your Honor,” said Brent.

  Chernow looked like he would hit the floor and pound his hands and feet against it in a temper tantrum.

  “Your Honor, we’ve established a foundation.”

  “No he hasn’t, Your Honor.”

  “Approach.”

  “Your Honor, we only have here one link in the chain,” said Brent. “This gentleman from the CDC who seems to have captured the jury’s full attention.”

  The Judge fought back a smile from the edges of his curled lips.

  “Your Honor, we have established an unshakable foundation,” Chernow argued.

  “I’m not sure you have,” said the Judge. We don’t know how many hands the sample passed through when it left CDC. All we really know is what happened when it was delivered and when it came back.”

  “If it was the same sample, Your Honor,” interjected Brent.

  “Oh come on!” Chernow protested.

  “We’re almost at the end of the day,” said the Judge. “We’ll recess early to give you some time to do whatever you’re going to do.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” said Chernow, glaring at Brent, as if he wanted to stick his tongue out at him. Brent packed up his trial notebooks, putting them into a large rolling carrying case. The gallery had all but cleared out, except for one spectator. Sitting in the back row, Frances Templeton smiled at Nancy, Brent and Jillian as they walked out the door into a sea of reporters in the corridor.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Brent called Melinda from his cell phone right after court.

  “Mims, better call Dr. Orozco and tell him to set aside next week to be called as an expert. Looks like we’re gonna need him after all. See if you can get me an appointment with him.”

  “Okay boss, what about your messages?”

  “I’ll call you from home about those.”

  “Okay boss, I don’t know quite how to say this, but Mrs. Haskins’ case isn’t really paying the bills now.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Well, there’s some new clients who want to see you.”

  “Set up appointments for tomorrow evening. There’s no way I can do it tonight.”

  Brent’s blood was racing with adrenalin as he drove home. The normal comforting effect of the harbor view as he descended Harbor Hills in his car was not as soothing as it usually was. Thoughts about the trial were coming at the speed of light; what did he do wrong, what was the next step? Other thoughts were coming at the speed of sound; feed the cat, check messages, check email, look at the trial notebook outlines for tomorrow, clean up, eat, get some rest.

  As Brent was taking his cases out of the car, the adrenalin rush was still on, but it sneaked back a bit to reveal fatigue; not so much fatigue of the body, but of the mind. As he opened the front door, Calico, who was usually a blur of orange and white, snaking between his feet and making a beeline to the kitchen, was curled up in a ball on the windowsill. When he came in, she looked up at him, then put her head back down and slowly closed her eyes with disinterest.

  “Hi honey!”

  It was Angela! What a great surprise.

  “Hey baby, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I knew you needed me. Now, don’t worry about a
nything. I know you need to get at your emails and check with Melinda for your messages, so when you’re ready, I’ve fixed a nice aperitif.”

  “Wow. That’s almost enough to make me forget about my messages and the email.”

  Angela gave Brent a look with raised eyebrows that said “really?”

  “Well, maybe not. I’ll be right back.”

  Brent sailed through the emails with a renewed good feeling mood, responding to the most essential, erasing the junk mail, and saving the non-essential ones for a response later. Next – messages. He grabbed the phone.

  “Hey Mimi.”

  “Boss, hi. Of course, everything is a crisis.”

  “Of course. I’ve been out of the office for two days.”

  Brent went over all the crises and gave instructions. All those wanting appointments were pushed until after the trial. Charles Stinson used to say, “During a trial, boy, you think, eat, sleep and crap only the trial.” It was a statement that was not as wise as it was true.

  When Brent came back into the great room, he saw the patio table flooded with the light of dozen candles, with the terrific harbor view in the background. He took a seat, and Angela poured him a deep red wine. He picked up the glass and savored the aroma.

  “Argentinian Malbec,” she purred.

  They took some sips of wine and munched on Angela’s hors d’oeuvres; little cheese eggplant things and assorted nuts and tasties. She put down her glass, went behind him and massaged his shoulders. If this is what marriage is like, count me in! he thought.

  * * *

  Jack’s night was not as pleasant. He was, again, on the night shift. With his experience, Jack should have applied for a job with the Orange Grove Homeowners Association. He knew who was cheating on whom, who the alcoholics were, and, also, all the addicts. He even knew the local drug dealers, whom he kept a special eye on, waiting for them to screw up.

  This time he had little presents for everyone, and it wasn’t even Christmas. Just after Gary Goldstein pulled his car into his garage, Jack rang the bell and his wife, Jean, answered.

  “Oh hello, Mr. Ruder!” she said, cheerfully.

  Jack was grumbling in the background.

  “Who’s that at the door?”

  “It’s Mr. Ruder, dear.”

  He pushed her aside, albeit gently.

  “What do you want?”

  Jack smiled, and popped the subpoena into his hand.

  “See you in court,” he said, and walked away.

  That would be the easiest one. He had stocked up enough junk food to make sure that, as soon as he spotted Keith Michel, he would have his little gift too, and so would fat Felipe, who had just made bail on the assault charge.

  * * *

  Brent and Angela dined on fabulous buttered lobster tails with zucchini parmesan, accompanied by a fine chilled French Sancerre. Angela let Brent cheat a little and go through his emails and trial notebooks while she did the dishes and drew him a special bath.

  After a delicious bath, Angela treated Brent to an unbelievable massage.

  “Angie, I’m in heaven, baby, but I feel so selfish. What can I do for you?”

  “Funny you should ask that,” she said, as she dropped her bathrobe and slipped under the sheets. “Why don’t you use your imagination?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The alarm bell on the phone struck like a hammer in Brent’s head. He looked around. Angie wasn’t there. Had it all been just a pleasant, crazy dream? Then he heard the shower running. She was already up. Time to face reality.

  * * *

  Chernow recalled the CDC witness, but it didn’t do him any good. CDC’s procedures had been followed carefully, as they were specially designed to guard against the release of contaminants that could be used in biological warfare or terrorism, but the loosely organized Laboratory Response Network turned out to be a way of passing the governmental buck, and its protocol did not comport with California’s law on the chain of custody of evidence.

  Chernow could not establish his chain of custody for the urine sample that had been tested positive for ricin, and it would never get to the jury. Brent, of course, was elated. But Chernow was ready to draw blood. He recalled Dr. Perez to the stand and emphasized that they had found an environmental sample of ricin in Orange Grove at Nancy’s house, but they still could not explain the missing “puzzle pieces” of how no ricin was found in Barbara Densmore’s home. Brent zeroed in on Perez for the kill.

  “Dr. Perez, are you familiar with the term clinical chemistry?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Clinical chemistry is the process of analyzing bodily fluids, isn’t that correct?”

  “It is.”

  “Dr. Perez, is it true that the only way to clinically confirm a diagnosis of ricin poisoning is to test for the presence of ricin in the urine?”

  “Clinical confirmation? Yes.”

  “And this test is only performed by the Centers for Disease Control?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you cannot clinically confirm, by the use of a test that was available to you, that the poison used on Mrs. Densmore was, in fact ricin, isn’t that correct?”

  Chernow said, “Objection, asked and answered,” at the same time the doctor blurted out, “I know it was ricin.”

  “Move to strike, Your Honor, as non-responsive.”

  “Let me rule on the objection first. Yes, Mr. Chernow, it was asked and answered, but this is cross examination, so I will allow it,” said Curtis. “The motion to strike is also granted, and the jury is instructed to disregard Dr. Perez’ last answer. Dr. Perez, please answer the question.”

  “Could you repeat the question please?”

  “Dr. Perez, you cannot clinically confirm, by the use of a test that was available to you, that the poison used on Mrs. Densmore was, in fact ricin, isn’t that correct?”

  Perez looked like he had just swallowed a piece of dog poop, but he had to respond, “Correct.”

  There were some gaping mouths in the jury box from that one. Nancy’s eyes were bright, as she suppressed an expression of joy. Brent was making points. I’d better not go back into the courthouse bathroom after court in case Brad wants another skirmish in front of the urinals, he thought. The kill shot having been fired at Dr. Chernow, he returned to finish off his victim.

  “And you tested the clothes that Barbara Densmore was wearing the day of her death for ricin, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “That test was negative, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “No ricin?”

  “No ricin.”

  Brent was sure that the jury had no doubt that the urine sample tested positive for ricin, but the judge instructed them that no urine test was in evidence, and that they could not consider the testimony about it. It was a good win for Brent, but not enough to win the case. You could be sure that the jury would be thinking about the positive urine test when they deliberated, whether or not they discussed it amongst themselves.

  Chernow’s next witness was Detective Tomassi, whom Brent knew he could not crack on cross examination, but that the man would, according to Jack, respond truthfully to a properly framed question. Chernow walked Tomassi through his assignment and work experience, and his discovery of the wrapping and flower food packet at Nancy’s house. Brent scanned the juror’s faces during the testimony. All seemed to be expressing their belief in Tomassi’s veracity. Brent had to be clever with how to spin this.

  “Detective Tomassi,” Chernow asked, “Where did you find the cellophane wrapping, marked as People’s Exhibit No. 12 and flower food packet, marked as People’s Exhibit No. 13?”

  “In the defendant’s garage.”

  “Detective, why was the discovery of cellophane wrapping and flower food important to you?” asked Chernow.

  “It was a material that is normally used to wrap flowers purchased or delivered from a flower store. We knew that a similar flower food h
ad been found in a kitchen drawer at the victim’s house, and we were looking for a powdery substance that could have easily been hidden in such a packet.”

  “Showing you what has been marked for identification as People’s Exhibit 14, can you identify this as the flower food package found in the victim’s home?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t find any flowers?”

  “Correct.”

  “What did you do with the cellophane wrapping when you found it?”

  “I placed it in a plastic evidence bag, booked it in as evidence, and delivered it to the forensic lab for fingerprint and toxicology analysis.”

  “And, subject to my witnesses being called on this matter, Your Honor, Detective, did you receive a report back from forensics?”

  “Yes, I received a fingerprint analysis report and a toxicology report.”

  “Showing you what has been marked for identification as People’s Exhibit numbers 15 and 16, can you identify these as the fingerprint and toxicology reports?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you learn from these reports?”

  “That the cellophane contained traces of ricin and that Barbara Densmore’s fingerprints were on the wrapping.”

  Two of the women on the jury let out a surprised sigh. Chernow continued.

  “Your Honor, I move that Exhibits 13 through 16 be admitted into evidence.”

  “Objection?”

  “No objection as to 13 and 14, Your Honor, but I object to the reports – Exhibits 15 and 16 for lack of foundation.”

  “Exhibits 13 and 14 are received. Mr. Chernow, you will need to authenticate the reports.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. No further questions.”

  “Mr. Marks?”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Detective Tomassi, isn’t it true that the forensic team you described made a thorough search of Barbara Densmore’s residence for evidence?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you specifically instructed them that you were looking for some type of poison, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And isn’t it also correct that, all the interviews of witnesses that you have conducted indicated that Barbara was at home all day before being taken to the hospital in the ambulance?”