“Don’t go fishing with this guy,” said Sinton. “He’s dangerous—wait until we get our expert. Save it for the trial.”
For the first time, I saw Sinton nervous. Sweat on his upper lip, his pen trembling in his hand. All he wanted was to get the hell out of there and take David with him. The firm couldn’t kill him in the courthouse. If they wanted to take him out, they needed him away from the secure building and on the street, vulnerable.
I ignored Gerry, stood, empty-handed, and took in Judge Knox. He looked pissed off. He was waiting for a long, boring argument between me and the witness that would lead nowhere.
But I had a firm destination in mind.
“Dr. Porter, you began your evidence by stating that you’ve testified in just over two hundred cases, yes?”
“Two hundred and four, counting this one.”
“I’m grateful for the reminder. Out of those two hundred and four appearances, how many appearances were as an expert witness for the defense?”
Any other so-called independent expert would’ve probably squirmed a little. Porter didn’t. He just casually let it drop.
“None,” he said.
“None?”
“Correct.”
“Sorry, maybe I don’t understand. It’s just that you stated, in your testimony, that you are an independent expert,” I said.
“I am. I can be retained by defense counsel or the prosecution. My duty is to provide my honest opinion to the court; it doesn’t matter which side signs the check for my fees.”
He’d opened the door just a crack. Just enough to let me in.
“So, in arriving at your honest, expert opinion, you have to ignore the name on the check and to base your opinion entirely on the evidence that you’ve found, correct?”
“Correct.”
“So, just by way of example, if you were asked by the prosecution to state an opinion that wasn’t based on fact, or your own evidential findings, what would you do?”
“I doubt any prosecutor would ask a professional witness to do that, but just for the record, I would not make any formal statement of opinion without evidence to back it up.”
“So your opinion flows from the facts and the evidence only?”
“Of course.”
“So you can’t base an opinion on speculation when the known facts tell you otherwise, right?”
“Right,” he said, sighing.
I could hear Zader whispering to his DAs, telling them I was getting nowhere fast.
I picked up Porter’s report, flicked to the back, which provided a breakdown of the particles and materials found in the samples taken from David’s face, hands, and clothes. This was the raw scientific data upon which Porter based his evidence.
“Doctor, in your test results, you found a lot of different particles?”
“Yes. As the explosion happens, the minute material released into the atmosphere by the gunshot will mix with other particles before it settles on the skin, so it sometimes picks up other debris like dust particles.”
“And the three main indicators of gunshot residue are particles of lead, barium, and antimony?”
“Correct.”
“The barium and antimony particles tend to emanate from the ignition of the primer and propellant?”
“Generally, yes.”
“Lead particles tend to come from the bullet or the full metal jacket itself?”
“Yes.”
“You found no traces of lead in your results?”
“That’s not unheard of. Some manufacturers’ rounds are simply tougher and more resistant than others. The high concentrations of barium and antimony are scientifically well-recognized signatures of GSR.”
“Apart from the high concentrations of barium and antimony, your results show a dense collection of nylon?”
“Yes. It’s possible that the shooter was wearing gloves made from this material. The hot GSR material settling on gloves could be enough to burn through the nylon onto the skin,” said Porter, his voice quieting as he reached the end of that statement. He didn’t feel solid on this, and I’d already guessed that when compiling his report, he’d been pushed by the prosecutor to explain why he’d found so much nylon and rubber in his samples. It gives the DA an easy argument when the defense points out that no fingerprints were found on the gun; Zader could simply fall back on Porter’s thoughts that the shooter might have worn gloves.
I paused, feigned confusion, and looked at the judge. David handed me the Lizard’s gloves, which I’d stowed under the defense table. I put down Porter’s report and held them up.
“I’m a little confused. These aren’t nylon gloves, but surely if the shooter had been wearing gloves, like these, which cover the whole hand, you wouldn’t have found so much GSR material on the sample taken from the hands?” I said.
“I take your point, but the material could’ve been released back into the air and then settled on the hands when the gloves were removed.”
“Are you a liar, Dr. Porter?”
Judge Knox’s head lifted from his notes in order to make his concerned look register with the defense counsel. The look told me I was on thin ice and I had better be able to back this up.
“I’m under oath, Mr. Flynn,” was Porter’s reply.
“I know you are; it’s just that in your direct testimony you specifically ruled out the possibility of the material traveling onto the defendant’s clothes and hands by secondary transfer, correct?”
He nodded at the judge, letting him know that everything was fine.
“Well, I suppose strictly speaking, material falling onto the defendant’s hands when he takes off his gloves would be secondary transfer, but some might say it’s still primary, as the material is simply being moved around the original source.”
“The lead detective in this investigation is Detective Morgan; are you calling him a liar, Dr. Porter?”
“Of course not.”
“It’s just that Detective Morgan has viewed a series of private security cameras and street cameras that follow David Child, from the moment he leaves his apartment to the moment he is involved in the RTC. Detective Morgan does not mention in his statement anything about David Child dumping a pair of gloves. No gloves are found in his car, in his apartment, or on his person, and it’s obvious he didn’t dump them because it would’ve been seen on camera. So, if you’re saying that the shooter may have worn gloves, where did they go?”
“I can’t answer that.”
I held up Porter’s report.
“In your test results, along with barium, antimony, and nylon, you also found fused rubber, leather, and plastic, correct?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, there was a high concentration of nylon, rubber, leather, and plastic in all samples from the defendant’s skin and clothes, correct?”
“That is fair. Yes.”
“Have you ever encountered similar results?”
“No, I can’t say that I have, but each environment in which a weapon is discharged is different. One cannot always predict the material one will find.”
“Given that you base your findings on the evidence, and considering that no gloves were found by police, where do you suppose all those nylon, rubber, leather, and plastic deposits came from?”
“I’m afraid I can’t speculate.”
“That’s because you have no evidence of where the defendant might have come into contact with this material?”
He paused, considering this. His thin fingers ran over his chin. He was suspicious of the question.
“That’s correct. I don’t have any evidence that could lead me to discern exactly where this material came from.”
Porter had every right to be suspicious. Right then, his entire testimony rested on a knife edge.