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THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY went to the evidence table and picked up a folder. “Your Honor, at this time I would like Exhibit B to be marked into evidence. It is a list of Mrs. Lockhart’s insured valuables.”
“So marked.” The judge checked something off on his paper and then asked, “Does the defense have a copy?”
Davis looked at his opponent, and when Livingston nodded, Davis continued, “They do, Your Honor. Permission to approach the witness?”
“Granted.”
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DAVIS HANDED THE FOLDER to the witness and then stepped back. “Deputy Musgrave, is this the list of valuables you found in Mrs. Lockhart’s desk drawer?”
The deputy opened the folder, and quickly scanned the three-page list. “Yes, it is.”
“Are you the one who put a check mark beside the items you were able to locate?”
“I am.”
“And is that your signature on the last page?”
Musgrave flipped to the last page just to make certain. “It is.”
“For the jury, please read each item you could not locate?”
“We could not find a diamond necklace, the matching bracelet and the matching earrings.” The witness slipped the first page behind the third. “Also missing was a woman’s pearl ring, a man’s black diamond ring, and a woman’s diamond broach.”
Davis took the folder back, handed it to the clerk, and then picked up three photographs. “Thank you, Deputy. Your Honor, permission to enter exhibit C, which consists of three photographs taken of Mrs. Lockhart’s missing jewelry, into evidence.”
“So marked,” said the judge. He appeared to write something on the paper on his desk as well.
“Foundation?” Livingston asked, half standing up and then sitting back down.
“Sustained.”
Davis said, “Your honor, if it pleases the court, I shall lay the foundation now.”
“You may,” said the judge.
“Deputy, in Mrs. Lockhart’s desk, did you also find a photograph album?”
“I did.”
“What sort of pictures did Mrs. Lockhart keep in that particular album?”
“She had pictures of everything on her list of insured items.”
“Did she have pictures of the missing jewelry?”
“She did.”
Davis handed the three pictures to the witness, watched as the deputy examined each and then turned it over. “Deputy Musgrave, are these the photographs you found in Mrs. Lockhart’s album of the missing jewelry?”
“They are.”
“How can you be certain these are the same photographs?”
“I watched Detective Heffran put his stamp on the back of each picture.”
“Thank you. Your Honor, permission to show the pictures to the jury?”
“I will allow it.”
Davis gave the photos to the jury foreman and again patiently waited until they were passed down.
Michael said, “From the looks on their faces, the jury must be wondering how expensive those items are. I wonder why Davis isn’t using some sort of computer presentation. I would like to see them myself.”
“Me too,” Carl agreed.
Davis received the pictures, took them to the clerk and then returned to the lectern. “Deputy Musgrave, on Saturday June 17th, did you receive a phone call from Miss Lexi Hamilton?”
“I did.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She said she had something to show me and asked if I would come over.”
“Did you know Miss Hamilton prior to that phone call?”
“Yes, we have been friends for years.”
“Did you go to her house that day?”
“I did?” the deputy said.
“What time of day would that have been?”
“Oh, around seven or so.”
“In the evening?”
“That’s right.”
“What did she show you?” Davis asked.
“She showed me a diamond necklace.”
“I see. Did you recognize the necklace?”
“I thought I did. It looked like a necklace that was stolen from Mrs. Lockhart.”
“Were you later able to verify that it was indeed the same necklace?”
“I was. It exactly matched the picture Mrs. Lockhart had taken for her insurance company.”
Davis retrieved another picture, asked for it to be submitted into evidence, and then handed the next exhibit to the Deputy. “Is this a picture of the necklace Lexi Hamilton showed you?”
“It is.”
“At this time, Your Honor, the state would like to show the jury this picture next to the picture taken from Mrs. Lockhart’s album on the screen?”
“Any objections, Mr. Livingston?”
“None, Your Honor.”
“You may precede, Mr. Davis.”
Davis nodded to his assistant and then walked to the front of the courtroom. As soon as he pulled a screen down from the ceiling, his assistant pushed a button and a side-by-side image appeared. One was marked photo album, and the other Lexi Hamilton. He checked to see that all the jury members could see the screen, and then went back to the lectern.
“Deputy Musgrave, what did you do with the necklace?”
“I put it in an evidence bag and then asked Lexi...I mean, Miss Hamilton, to come down to the police station and give us a statement.”
“Did she do that?”
“She did.”
Davis went through his routine and then gave the next exhibit to the witness. “Is this the statement you took from Miss Hamilton that day?”
Musgrave took a moment to scan both pages and handed it back. “Yes, sir, it is.”
“How did Miss Hamilton act...strike that. What was Miss Hamilton’s demeanor when she gave her statement?”
“She was very upset.”
“In her statement, did she mention when she received the necklace?”
“She did, it was June 13th.”
“The same day she called you?” Davis asked.
“Yes.”
“Was that the Saturday after Mrs. Lockhart’s body was found?”
“It was.”
“Did she tell you where she got the necklace?”
“She said her boyfriend gave it to her.”
“Did she name her boyfriend?”
“Yes, she said it was Mark Barrett.”
Davis paused for a long moment before he said, “Thank you. Now, Deputy Musgrave, did Miss Hamilton tell you she found it odd that Mark Barrett gave her a necklace?”
“Livingston sure is quiet,” said Michael. “The judge keeps watching the public defender as though he is expecting him to object, but Livingston just sits there. If I were a lawyer, I’d be on my feet by now, claiming hearsay or something.”
“That’s right,” said Carl, “you went to law school for a while?”
“I thought about it, but I didn’t actually go. That was before I found out there was more money in computers and the stock market. I mean, look at Livingston. He’s not making a dime off of this case, and he has to defend his client just as vigorously. I couldn’t do it, not when the guy blew a hole in a little old lady. I’d want to slap Mark Barrett around for at least a few hours.”
“She said he hadn’t ever given her anything at all before,” Deputy Musgrave continued.
“That necklace must be worth at least $5,000.00,” said Michael. “Why would a guy that hard up for money, agree to kill someone, and then give an expensive necklace to a girlfriend?”
“He probably didn’t know how to fence it,” Carl said. “I hear you need to know how to find a fence before you go out and steal stuff like that.”
“Or he doesn’t know real diamonds when he sees them,” Michael said. He watched as Jackie put a finger to her mouth. “Uh, too much talking.”
“Deputy Musgrave, do you know how much the necklace is worth?” Davis asked.
“Mrs. Lockhart had it insured for eight-thousand.”
“Do you have any reason to suspect Miss Hamilton stole the necklace?”
“No sir.”
“Do you have any reason to suspect Miss Hamilton murdered Mrs. Lockhart?”
“None whatsoever.”
Davis spent a moment looking over his notes and then turned to the judge. “Permission to recall this witness later, Your Honor?”
“Permission granted. Cross examination, Mr. Livingston?”
“Yes, your honor.” Livingston walked to the lectern and spread two pages out before him. “Good afternoon, Deputy. In your report, you noted that it was an unusually warm day for June. Do you recall what the high temperature was for that day?”
“I believe it got up to 82 degrees.”
“Thank you. You testified that you turned the heat down. Did you have a difficult time finding the thermostat?”
“No, sir. It was on the wall in the living room.”
“Could someone have turned it up to make the body decompose faster?”
“Objection,” said Davis, “calls for speculation.”
“Sustained,” said the judge.
Livingston looked a touch troubled but then he shrugged. “Do you recall what the thermostat was turned up to?”
“Yes, it was set as high as it would go, which was 90 degrees.”
“Is it possible, Deputy, that when you turned it down, you smudged a fingerprint?”
“No, sir. I used the tip of a key to turn the dial.”
“I see.” Livingston thoughtfully scratched a spot on his forehead. “Isn’t it true that Mrs. Lockhart’s front door may have been unlocked between the time she was murdered, and the time her body was found?”
“Yes, I would agree.”
“Then it is possible someone else stole the jewelry?”
“Yes, it is possible.”
“Is it also possible that Lexi Hamilton lied about who gave her the necklace?”
“I have never known her to lie, but yes, it is possible.”
“Deputy Musgrave, did you and Miss Hamilton have a conversation the night she showed you the necklace?”
Davis shot out of his chair. “Objection. No foundation.”
“Your honor, surely the State does not imagine the deputy and Miss Hamilton had nothing to say to each other that night.”
The judge agreed. “Overruled.”
“Thank you, Your honor.” Livingston turned to look at the witness again and waited for the answer.
“Yes, we had a conversation that night.”
“How long did you talk?”
“An hour or so.”
“Other than the defendant and the necklace, what did you talk about?”
“We just chatted about friends we had in common.”
“Deputy Musgrave, are you aware that Lexi Hamilton and Slone Lockhart, the victim’s son, are also good friends?”
Again, Davis jumped up. “Objection. Pertains to information not in direct testimony.”
“Sustained.”
Livingston took a deep breath and asked the very question his opponent hoped he wouldn’t ask. “Deputy Musgrave, when you notified the family, who specifically did you talk to?”
“Slone Lockhart.”
“Had you ever met Mr. Slone Lockhart before that day?”
“Yes.”
“About how long have you known him?”
“Several years, I suppose.”
“You testified that you have been friends with Lexi Hamilton for several years as well.”
“That’s right.”
Livingston started to ask something and then changed his mind. “Thank you, Deputy. Now, did you have the necklace dusted for fingerprints?”
“Yes, but we didn’t find any that could be identified.”
“Do you have any idea what happened to the rest of the jewelry?”
“No.”
“To your knowledge, does Mark Barrett have a police record?”
“Objection.”
Livingston glared at Davis. “I’m only trying to point out that the defendant is not a habitual...”
“Your Honor, now the defense attorney is testifying.”
“I agree,” said Judge Blackwell. “The jury will disregard Mr. Livingston’s comments. Counselor, move on please.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said Livingston.
“On the record or not, Livingston won that one,” said Michael.
“Did you search Mrs. Lockhart’s house for a gun?”
“Twice,” the deputy answered.
“When was the first time?” Livingston asked.
“The day her body was discovered.”
“And the second time?”
“Detective Heffran and I went back and searched the next day.”
“Did you find any guns at all?”
“No.”
“To your knowledge, did Mrs. Lockhart own a gun?”
“We didn’t find any permits in her name.”
“Do any of her children own guns?”
“Objection,” the DA moaned.
Judge Blackwell waited, but when Davis didn’t continue, he asked, “On what grounds?”
“Mrs. Lockhart’s children have no bearing on the evidence in this case, Your Honor.”
“Unless you think one of them might have killed her,” Livingston shot back.
Peeved, Davis stared directly at Livingston. “Your Honor, does the defense wish to ask for an alternate perpetrator defense at this time?”
“No, we do not,” Livingston answered.
“Enough, Gentlemen,” said the judge.
Livingston quickly said, “I’ll rephrase the question, Your Honor.”
“Please do,” Judge Blackwell said.
“Alternative perpetrator defense,” Michael muttered. “I think I know, but I’m looking that up now. I just love all this legal stuff.”
“When you’re not hating it,” Carl reminded him.
Livingston cleared his throat a little. “Deputy, in your professional experience, is it common to suspect family members when a murder occurs?”
“It is.”
“As an officer with years of experience, and in the absence of a husband, did you suspect that one of Mrs. Lockhart’s children might have killed her?”
“Everyone is a suspect in the beginning.”
“Until they are eliminated?”
“That’s correct.”
Livingston deliberately looked at the DA. “That being the case, did you check to see if any of them owned guns?”
“We would have, but by that time, we had already arrested Mr. Barrett, and there was no reason to check further.”
“I see. So you don’t know if they own guns or not.”
“Asked and answered,” Davis mumbled, half rising up.
“Sustained.”
“Do you know if any of her children has a key to Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”
“I do not.”
“Thank you, I have no further questions.” Livingston grabbed his papers and returned to his seat.
“Redirect, Mr. Davis?” Judge Blackwell asked.
Carl downed the last of his soda and gets up to get another. “So Barrett’s mistress gets around and knows Slone Lockhart.”
“Jackie, I looked up alternative perpetrator defense just to be sure I know what I’m talking about,” Michael said. “It’s when you try to blame the other guy...or guys, but you have to declare your intentions before trial. It’s like being the prosecutor in reverse, which means you have to prove someone else did it. Not a fun thing to do. Even so, it looks like the defense is going to try to make the jury think Slone killed her.”
*
THE DA CHECKED SOMETHING off his list, thoughtfully brushed the side of his cheek with the back of his hand, and was about to ask his next question when the Judge interrupted, “Mr. Davis, how much more time do you need for this witness?”
“Not long,” the DA answered.
“Very well, continue.”
“Deputy Musgrave, did you find any evidence whatsoever that indicates that any of Mrs. Lockhart’s children murdered the victim?”
“No, I did not.”
“Thank you, I have nothing more.”
Livingston stood up. “I have one more question for this witness, Your Honor.”
“Proceed.”
“Do you know how much money the Lockhart children stand to inherit from their mother’s estate?”
“No, I do not know,” Musgrave answered.
“Thank you, that’s all I have, Your Honor.”
The judge said, “In that case, let’s give the jury a break. Ladies and Gentleman of the jury, you are reminded not to talk to anyone about this case, even each other. We shall break for fifteen minutes, and if you need anything, just ask the bailiff.”
“All rise!” the bailiff said.
*
FIFTEEN MINUTES WASN’T very long when everyone seemed to need the restroom facilities at the same time. Jackie finished first and waited outside the door. When Holly came out, she looked even more haggard than before.
“They shouldn’t let reporters in there,” Holly muttered as she shot past, and practically ran around the corner and down the hallway, stopping near the bench they sat on during the morning break.
“Sorry,” said Jackie when she caught up, “I’ll play guard next time.”
“Maybe coming here was a mistake.”
“It can’t be easy for you.”
“It’s his parents that make me the most upset. His mother keeps giving me dirty looks when I have to look in her direction to watch the jury.”
“Give her a dirty look back.”
“I never have the nerve to do things like that.”
“Why not? You hold all the cards. The day may come when they will want to see Mark’s children, and you have to be strong when they do. For the sake of your daughters, you can’t let them intimidate you, not now, and not in the future.”
Holly considered that and then her eyes brightened. “You’re right. I don’t even have to tell them where we are.”
“Now you’ve got it. It’s time to go back in.”
“Already?”
“I’m afraid so. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, you know.”
“I know.” Holly begrudgingly started back. “You go first.”
Jackie nodded, and together they made their way through the spectators and then up to the front of the courtroom. “What did the reporter say to you?” Jackie whispered after they took their seats.
“The usual. She wanted to know if Mark is guilty. I don’t know what reporters expect me to say. How would I know? I wasn’t there.”
*
“THE STATE CALLS DR. Gareth Franklin.”
Davis, along with everyone in the courtroom, waited while the witness was brought in and seated. He was a pleasant looking man with a baldhead and a cropped off mustache. “Please state your name and occupation.”
“I am Doctor Gareth Franklin, and I am the Medical Examiner for Fremont and two other Oregon counties.”
“Doctor Franklin, how many cases have you....”
“Your Honor,” Livingston interrupted, “the defense stipulates that Dr. Franklin is well qualified as an expert witness.”
“Thank you,” said the judge, “so noted. You may continue, Mr. Davis.”
“Dr. Franklin, what is a medical examiner and what are your specific duties?”
“A medical examiner works for the state, and is responsible for the post-mortem examination when someone dies under suspicious circumstances.”
“Is an autopsy required when the cause of death appears to be suspicious?”
“It is.”
“On June 17th, 2012, did you personally do an autopsy on Mrs. Lockhart’s body?”
“I did not, I only watched. Coroner Keyes did the actual autopsy.”
“I see. Did your conclusions differ in any way from Dr. Keyes assessments?”
“They did not.”
“By the way, Dr. Keyes is not available to testify. Can you tell the jury why?”
“He passed away last year.”
“Thank you. Does a medical examiner normally determine the cause of death?”
“We do,” Dr. Franklin answered.
“Did you determine the cause of death in this case?”
“Yes, I determined that Mrs. Lockhart died as the result of a gunshot wound to the head.”
“Did you issue a death certificate to that affect?”
“I did.”
Davis asked, “How many times was Mrs. Lockhart shot?”
“Just once.”
“Did you examine the entry and exit wounds in Mrs. Lockhart’s head?”
“I did. The bullet entered the frontal lobe,” Dr. Franklin used his finger to point to his own forehead, “and exited the occipital lobe, here.” He turned his head so the jury could see, and again used his finger to point to the back of his head.
“Wow, Mrs. Lockhart’s children don’t look disturbed at all,” said Michael. “No reaction to the gory details of their mother’s murder? Man, that is so cold.”
“Did you find that trajectory consistent with someone lying in bed?”
“Not exactly. Mrs. Lockhart wasn’t lying flat. She had a hospital type bed with the top raised four inches.”
“Did you find the trajectory consistent with the way her bed was raised?”
“I did.”
“I see,” said Davis. He quickly consulted his notes. “Would you say Mrs. Lockhart was shot at close range?”
“I would.”
“How close?”
“Approximately two feet.”
“Could you tell from the angle of the wound how tall the killer was?”
“Not exactly, but unless he was crouched down for some reason, he stands about six feet tall.”
Davis paused, hoping the jury would try to guess how tall the defendant was. “What else can you tell us about the condition of the body?”
“Well, Mrs. Lockhart died instantly.”
“Did you find any other wounds or injuries?”
“No, I found no other wounds.”
“No signs of rape or mutilation?”
“No, sir.”
“Could you tell by the condition of the body, how long she had been dead?”
“Well, considering the lividity and how warm it was in the house, I set the approximate time of death between two and six a. m. the morning of June 9th.”
The DA turned to see if the defense attorney was going to object, but he didn’t, so Davis continued. “Did you have the blood samples that were taken from the murder scene examined by a blood expert?”
“I did. We sent them to the state’s forensic lab.”
“What did they find?”
“It was Mrs. Lockhart’s blood.”
“All of it? They didn’t find evidence of anyone else’s blood?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I have no further questions.”
The judge looked at Livingston. “Counselor?”
“May I have a moment please?” Still seated at his table, Livingston seemed to be reading something important on his iPad.
“Michael, why does the court reporter look familiar?” Carl asked.
“No way, I saw her first.”
“I’m serious.”
Michael rolled his eyes and then concentrated on the court reporter’s image on the big screen TV. “I don’t see anything.”
“I do. What do we know about her?” Carl asked.
“Well, her name is Natalie Kirkwood, and she’s an independent reporter – which basically means she works by the hour and the court doesn’t have to pay benefits. A lot of courts are moving in that direction these days. She is single, hangs out in a bar not far from our hotel and... She just looked up and you know what, Jackie, Carl might be right. Boss, the camera in the back is too far away and not at the right angle. Can you get a shot with the medallion?”
Jackie began to toy with the medallion. She folded one arm, put her other elbow on it, and held the medallion as steady as she could. Without a viewfinder, she had to rely on the guys to tell her how to move it.
“More to your left,” Carl said. “Now tip it up a little? That’s better. Just a smidgeon to your left and hold it there until she looks up again...if she ever does.”
“Smile...” Michael said. “There, we got it.”
Carl studied the court reporter’s face. “For the life of me, I can’t think who she reminds me of.”
Jackie wrote ‘the eyes’ on her notepad, and then tipped her medallion down.
“That’s right, it’s the eyes,” Carl agreed.
Judge Blackwell impatiently stared at Livingston. “Does the defense have any questions for this witness?”
Livingston quickly stood up, but he stayed behind his table. “Just a few, Your Honor. Dr. Franklin, could you tell the jury what blood splatter is?”
“Blood splatter is when a bullet causes fine particles of blood to spray out of the wound in all directions.”
“Would the killer have gotten blood on him or her due to blood splatter?”
“At two feet away, most definitely.”
“Doctor, you stated that the shooter was six feet tall, is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
“Could he or she have been six feet one or two?”
“Possibly, but no taller than that.”
“How about five eleven or five ten?”
“That’s possible too,” Dr. Franklin admitted.
“What would make your assessment vary to that degree?”
“Well, if the shooter stood closer, or a little farther away, then his height would be assessed differently.”
“I see. Do you know exactly how far away the shooter was standing at the time?”
“There is no way to know that exactly, unless someone confesses.”
“Doctor, do you have any way of knowing exactly when the heat was turned up in the Lockhart home?”
“No, I don’t.”
“In your expert opinion, if the heat was not turned up until the next day, would that have changed your assessment of the time of death?” Livingston asked.
“To some degree, yes.”
“So your estimate of the time, and even the day of her death, might possibly be wrong.”
“That is correct.”
“No further questions.”
Although he tried not to show it, the judge looked a little surprised. “Redirect, Mr. Davis?”
“I only have one question, Your Honor,” said Davis as he stood up. “Dr. Franklin, how confident are you in your estimated time of death?”
“I am very confident.”
“Thank you. I have nothing further.”
“Very well, the witness is excused. Call your next witness. Mr. Davis.”
“The state calls Detective Thomas Heffran to the stand.” In the back of the courtroom, the bailiff opened the door and called for the detective once, and then a second time.
When his witness did not quickly appear, Davis pulled a blackberry out of his pocket and started to type a text message.
While they waited, Jackie turned her attention to a woman on the jury who looked to be about thirty, maybe a little older. It was hard to tell with nose jobs and liposuction available everywhere these days. Juror number six looked tired and perhaps a little perturbed at having to be in court every day for who knew how long.
Jackie suspected the older gentleman seated at the end of the first row had been chosen as the jury foreman. He had been very attentive to the proceeding so far, and it was probably a good choice.
Again, the Bailiff called for the next witness, and again, everyone waited.
“Mr. Davis, what seems to be the problem?”
“Your Honor, the detective is on his way.”
“How long?”
“About two minutes?”
Jackie began to doodle on her notepad. The picture of the missing child they had been searching for was seared into her brain, and she often imagined what it must have been like to be held for ransom. Ransom was a plague that especially fell on the rich, and not paying was the cause of several suicides throughout history. Such was the case in this instance. The FBI advised the parents not to pay, the captors were not caught, and they never saw their child again. Of course, there was no proof of a death either, so the family never stopped searching. The Harlan Detective Agency was their client’s last hope.
It did not follow that the wealthy were also famous, but their client was both. An actress beloved by many worldwide, she was now dying and time was not on their side. Still, until they could get close enough to their suspected missing child to get a DNA sample, all they could do was wait. Furthermore, there was more at stake here than anyone else knew. Approaching someone involved in this particular trial before it was over, could bring about an unintended and possibly disastrous outcome.
Jackie turned once more to look at the victim’s children. There were similarities in their appearances, yet, each was distinctly different. All four of them seemed a little less stoic than they had in the morning session, and in tones too soft to hear, the daughters were even chatting. Jackie decided that when she got to her hotel room, trying to see what they were talking about would be her first objective.
*
DAVIS WATCHED THE BACK of the courtroom and did not hide his relief when a man in a blue business suit dashed through the door. The DA quickly stood up and said again, “The state calls Detective Thomas Heffran to the stand.”
Thomas Heffran wore polished black shoes and a crisp blue shirt opened at the collar. He had light brown hair, looked relaxed, and nodded to the jury as soon as he sat down. It was obvious he had testified many times before.
“Mr. Heffran, how long have you been a crime scene detective for the state of Oregon?” Davis began.
As he did, after being asked each question, Heffran looked at the jury when he answered. “Almost fifteen years.”
“What are your specific qualifications?”
“Your Honor,” Livingston interrupted a second time, “the defense will stipulate to the qualifications of this witness as well.”
Judge Blackwell nodded. “So noted. Continue, Mr. Davis.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Heffran, were you called to investigate the murder of Mrs. Amelia Ann Lockhart on June 15th, 2012?”
“I was.”
“About what time did you arrive?”
“At about ten o’clock in the morning.”
“What did you do when you first arrived?”
“I made certain the crime scene had been properly secured?”
“Thank you. Detective, was Deputy Musgrave there when you arrived?”
“He was.”
“And did Deputy Musgrave remain with you for the duration of your investigation.”
“He did.”
“How long did it take you to do a full investigation?” Davis asked.
“The better part of two days.”
Davis picked the next exhibit up off the table and asked permission to approach. It was granted. “Detective, I show you a document and ask if this is your fact finding statement?”
Heffran gave it a quick glance. “It is.”
The DA entered it into evidence and continued, “After you made certain the crime scene was secure, what did you do?”
“I took a preliminary look around, and then began to take notes.”
“Please be more specific, Detective Heffran.”
“Well, I noted the temperature in the house and then went back outside. I directed the photographer to take still shots of the outside entrances, and windows, the other rooms in the house, and then the bedroom. After that, we switched to videotape. We looked for possible footprint indentations in the carpets, blood, cartridge casings, and weapons.”
“Would you say your search throughout the house was very thorough?”
“I would, yes. We looked under furniture, in closets, and in every drawer in the house.”
“And did you find any weapons?” Davis asked.
“No, we did not.”
“What about bullets or bullet casings?”
“We found no unspent bullets. I did find one spent casing, but not until after the body was removed. The casing was under the bed.”
“Footprint indications on the carpet or in blood?”
“No, we didn’t find any.”
“How about outside? Did you find any footprints outside that could be identified?”
“No, there were none.”
Davis picked up several pages of notes and finally walked to the lectern. “Concerning the victim, before her body was removed, what did you do?”
“I examined her clothing, looked for gunpowder residue on her hands, and for loose hairs and fibers.”
“Were you able to find anything of that nature?”
“No sir.”
“Did you find any signs of a struggle?”
“I did not. It appeared that she was asleep when she died.”
“I see.” Davis paused to check his notes. “Let’s go back for a minute. Outside the house, specifically outside the unlocked front door, did you find anything unusual?”
“No. We normally look for fresh cigarette butts or candy wrappers...that sort of thing. We found no evidence outside any of the entrances or the windows.”
“You found no evidence of a voyeur, or any sign that someone had gone through Mrs. Lockhart’s trash?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you collect any evidence inside Mrs. Lockhart’s home?”
“I did.”
“Could you tell us what evidence you collected?”
“Well, there wasn’t much. After I examined the body for other injuries or...intrusions, I allowed the removal of the body. Then I collected the sheets, the pillow and pillow case, and put them in paper evidence bags.”
“Were you able to document everything you did on video tape?”
“I was.”
“Thank you. Now, Detective Heffran, did you take samples of the blood you found in the victim’s bed?”
“I did.”
“Did you video tape the blood splatter on the victim’s headboard and the wall above it?”
“I did.”
“Were you able to collect samples of the blood on the headboard and the wall?”
“Yes.”
Davis moved to the side of the lectern again. “Detective Heffran, did you manage to find the bullet?”
“I did. It was imbedded in the wall behind the headboard.”
“With that knowledge, would you say the perpetrator stood no farther than two feet from the victim?”
“I agree with the Medical Examiner’s estimate, if that’s what you mean.”
“Thank you. Do you also agree that the killer is likely six feet tall?”
“I do.”
“After you recovered the bullet, did you turn it over to the police lab for examination?”
“I did.”
“And what did you learn?”
“The bullet was fired from a .38 Davis & Wesson Special.”
“To your knowledge, was the murder weapon ever recovered?”
Detective Heffran shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”
“In your expert opinion, did the bullet and the casing you found under the bed come from the same manufacturer?”
“They did.”
“Yet, you haven’t been able to connect any particular gun to the murder?”
“That is correct. There is no way to make a match without a weapon to examine.”
“Now, did you and Deputy Musgrave try to determine what, if anything had been taken from the house?”
“We did.”
“What were your findings?”
“Everything appeared to be accounted for, except some jewelry.”
“Could you tell us which articles of jewelry were missing?”
“Yes, there was a black diamond ring, a pearl ring, a necklace, bracelet and earring set, and a diamond broach.”
“Did the necklace set consist of mostly diamonds, also?”
“Yes.”
“Detective, did you take fingerprints at the scene?”
“I did.”
“And did you turn those findings over to the state fingerprint expert?”
“I did,”
“Did you find any prints belonging to anyone other than the housekeeper and Mrs. Lockhart?”
“Yes, sir, I found a forefinger print on Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom door.”
“Was that on the inside or the outside of her bedroom door?”
“The outside.”
“Does Mrs. Lockhart’s door open into her bedroom, or out into the hallway?”
“It opens inwardly.”
“Would a fingerprint in that location indicate that someone had pushed the door open with one finger?”
“Yes, sir.”
“To your knowledge, was the Portland fingerprint expert able to ascertain whose forefinger print it was?”
“Yes, sir, it belongs to Mark Barrett.”
“Thank you,” said Davis, allowing a little extra time for the jury to absorb that fact. “Did you find any other fingerprints?”
“Yes, we found prints matching the housekeeper, Mrs. Lockhart, and several more that we were unable to positively identify.”
“Did you also find smudged fingerprints that couldn’t be identified?”
“Well, there are always smudged fingerprints, and most cannot be identified.”
Davis paused to indicate he was changing the subject. “Were you able to ascertain when the victim was last seen alive?”
“I believe Miss Childers was the last to see her alive.”
“Was that on the day she died?”
“According to Miss Childers, the last time she saw Mrs. Lockhart was the Tuesday before, which was the 9th of June.”
“I have nothing further at this time.” He went to his table just as Livingston was about to stand up and then nodded to him. “Your witness.”
Livingston seemed eager to ask his questions. “Detective, did you find fingerprints on the bullet?”
“No.”
“On the casing?”
“No.”
“Did you find any fibers or DNA at all that could be connected to the defendant, Mark Barrett?”
“No, we did not.”
“Permission to recall Detective Heffran for the defense, Your Honor.”
“Permission granted.”
“I have no more questions at this time.”
The judge asked, “Any redirect, Mr. Davis?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Very well,” said the judge. He quickly glanced at his watch. “Call your next witness.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” said Michael. “Barrett didn’t wear gloves when he touched the victim’s bedroom door. He’s guilty.”
“Yep,” Carl said. “Unless he can prove he was in her bedroom before that night, but why would a young guy like that be in the bedroom of an old woman?”
