On November 17, 2010, defense attorney Joey Sanzone called his first witness, Susan Cropp, a forensic mitochondrial DNA examiner for the FBI with a bachelor’s in biology from Ohio State, master’s in zoology from Ohio State, and PhD in Population and Evolutionary Biology from Washington University in St. Louis. The judge qualified her as an expert in DNA analysis.
She explained that mitochondrial DNA is related to maternal inheritance; it is not unique to an individual because all maternal relatives would have the same sequence. She testified that current databases have identified 5,071 different mitochondrial DNA types. In other words, there are that many known matrilineal genetic lines in the world.
She performed a mitochondrial DNA analysis on six hairs submitted by Bedford County. She compared them to seven reference points: Joyce Young, Maysa Munsey, Shameka Wright, and several male acquaintances known to have been in Jocelyn’s home in the past, Leon Hill, Keith Whitted, Wesley Brian Earnest, and Charlie Carol Boyd III. No match with any of those individuals.
On cross, the Commonwealth simply established that in addition to DNA analysis, the FBI lab also relied on fingerprint analysis to counter the defense claim that the science in that field was inaccurate.
After a break, Joey Sanzone called Dr. Jennifer Mnookin to the stand. Krantz immediately objected to her testimony. The jury was sent out and the voir dire examination began.
In his introduction of the witness, Sanzone said that Dr. Mnookin was an expert in fingerprint identification, its history, and its use. The Commonwealth stated that they had no objection to the defense laying out her background for the record but that their objection was that she was not a fingerprint examiner, and thus not an expert in the field. Because of that, they argued, she should not be allowed to render any opinion regarding the analysis done on the fingerprints.
Outside of the presence of the jury, the judge wanted to hear about her qualifications and testimony before making a decision. The defense walked him through her impressive credentials, a social science degree from Harvard, a law degree from Yale, and a PhD in history and the social study of science and technology from MIT. She was currently working as a professor of evidence at UCLA’s law school and served on various national and statewide organizations.
“Have you published articles relating to fingerprint identification?” Joey Sanzone asked.
“Yes. I have published around half a dozen or so academic articles on various aspects of the adequacy of the research foundation and scientific basis for latent fingerprint identification [in] peer-reviewed academic journals.”
Sanzone spoke of her national affiliations and asked, “The National Institute of Justice is what type of organization?”
“It is a research arm of the Department of Justice essentially, and it funds research into the criminal justice system. I along with some co-investigators applied for a set of competitive grants and [ . . . ] I’m the primary investigator [ . . . ] Our study is endeavoring to develop some objective measures of difficulty for latent print comparison. And then we are hoping to be able to determine some useful information about error rates as a function of difficulty.”
“Are you aware of the method for fingerprint evaluation in this case that was talked about, the ACEV method?”
“Yes, I am not a fingerprint examiner, but I do—”
Krantz interrupted, “Your Honor, I know he needs to make out the record and the Court’s ruled, but that’s the exact issue right there.”
The judge allowed Mnookin to explain that although it was out of her expertise to “make a statement about whether or not two prints did or did not match,” she expounded on her study of other methodologies. Updike asked for a response to the interview from the prosecution. Krantz said, “At the end of the day, she’s a law professor. There can be but one judge in this courtroom. And nothing that she offered overturns . . . the underlying reliability of fingerprints. And I’m not sure what she’d be testifying to. And as she very candidly stated . . . she is not a fingerprint examiner. She would not be rendering an opinion on whether any particular fingerprints matched. She is not a scientist.” He argued that the law clearly stated, “‘Being an expert in one field does not qualify one to speak as an expert in another field even if the field is closely related,’” and said, “I have no questions about her knowledge base and the usefulness of the endeavors she’s engaged in, but I paid careful attention to what she said . . . They’re hoping to develop, trying to create, would like to try to develop. So even with her stated research, it’s tenuous at this point.”
Judge Updike agreed, ruling that in his opinion, such testimony “requires someone who qualifies as an expert in the field of fingerprint analysis . . . Though this witness quite obviously is an expert in many fields, extremely well educated, extremely intelligent, I’m certain, but the issue of whether she’s qualified to offer evidence that I feel is of the nature requiring expertise in the field of fingerprint analysis, it is my ruling that she is not.”
• • •
The next witness, Rodney Wolforth of the Virginia Department of Forensic Science, possessed expert qualifications in his stated field of DNA analysis: a bachelor of science degree in biology and a master’s degree in forensic chemistry from the University of Pittsburgh along with working experience since 1976 with the Michigan Crime Lab and as the unit supervisor in the forensic biology section here in Virginia. Adding to his background was his stint as a visiting scientist at Quantico where he worked on the short tandem repeat project, which was the type of analysis he did now.
After receiving the swabs of the sample from the sink, Wolforth testified that he’d compared that unknown to samples from Jocelyn Earnest’s family and friends, as well as from law enforcement known or suspected to have been in the house. None were a match. He did determine that the blood came from a male, but nothing more than that.
The profile of that sample was now a permanent record entered into the Combined DNA Index System, which is the federal, state, and local DNA database, and could still be matched on any sample that came through in the future, but as of that day in the trial, no matches had been found.
Krantz conducted the cross-examination with an attitude, as if he were offended by the existence of an employee of the Commonwealth as a witness for the defense. “I’m assuming at some point in time, after DNA analysis began being used in the forensic sciences labs in Virginia, including Roanoke, they shut down all the other parts of the lab; is that correct? I mean, there’s no longer a toxicology lab since we have DNA?”
“No, that is not correct.”
“Oh. Is there no longer any fingerprint department since you have DNA?”
Sanzone broke into the interchange. “Your Honor, I’m going to ask that I be allowed to revisit some prior testimony if we keep going on this line.”
“All I can do is rule on things as they come in,” Updike said.
“I object to the questions and the way they’re being asked,” Sanzone said.
Krantz jumped back into the fray. “My point, Mr. Wolforth, is just because there’s now been DNA since 1996, that didn’t shut down all the other parts of the lab, did it?”
“No, it did not at all.”
“You as a forensic scientist would acknowledge that all the other parts of the lab are reliable sciences and are depended upon?”
“Judge, I object to that,” Sanzone said. “We can’t testify about anything other than the DNA.”
With the judge’s permission, Krantz rephrased the question. “These other departments still exist.”
“Yes, they do.”
After an inordinate amount of legal squabbling, Krantz moved on to the area of touch DNA and asked the witness about the testing of the murder weapon and ammunition.
Wolforth explained, “A swabbing from the barrel, cylinder, and frame of the firearm was done, and no DNA results were obtained. The shell casings and cartridges were also swabbed, and no DNA results were obtained.”
“You didn’t find anything there belonging to Jocelyn Earnest?”
“I found no DNA,” Wolforth responded.
• • •
The next witness was Roger Earnest, father of the accused. He dragged a heavy emotional burden into the witness box. He testified that he had a good relationship with his son Wesley, and that he’d had a good one with his daughter-in-law Jocelyn as well. They’d visited each other’s homes, and Roger said that he’d helped the couple out when he could, such as with the loan he made to them for $100,000 when they bought a rental property.
“With regard to the one hundred thousand dollars, are you still owed that money?” Sanzone asked.
“Yes. I allowed them to pay it monthly, you know, a stipend. I guess you could call it interest. I considered it principal.”
Sanzone asked him about target shooting at his home in 2002, and Roger said that Jocelyn had proved to be a better shot with the .357 than his son.
Exhibiting the murder weapon, Sanzone asked, “Who had this gun or one like it on the day that y’all were up there?”
“Jocelyn.”
“Did she bring it down to where you were shooting?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did she keep it with her when she was down there?”
“Except during the time that Wesley fired it, yes. After that, she kept possession of it.”
Krantz asked Roger about the loan and payments. Roger said he’d received $18,000, which they called interest, but that he didn’t want to earn interest off of them, so he’d given the money back to Wesley. To date, he had not received any payment on the principal.
Krantz said, “Would it surprise you to know then that Wesley had told Jocelyn that you had consulted two attorneys who were intending to sue her over the hundred thousand dollars? Would that surprise you?”
“I wouldn’t have any knowledge of that,” Roger said.
“Did you ever have any plans to sue her?”
“I had no plans. I did consult an attorney . . . just for advice and he told me I would have to sue. And I wasn’t going to do that.”
Roger testified than he had only known Shameka Wright for two years or less, or since 2008 or 2009, so Krantz asked, “Would it surprise you to know that your son was having an affair with Shameka as far back as 2004?”
“I don’t know.”
Sanzone objected and the judge responded, “My ruling is going to be the same as earlier rulings I made in a different context. This witness’s knowledge of any relationship between the son and Ms. Wright I find irrelevant. Objection sustained.”
The prosecution attempted to enter into evidence a letter of claim against the estate of Jocelyn Earnest for the one hundred thousand dollars, signed by Roger Earnest. Krantz argued that it proved an inconsistent statement and went to the credibility of the witness. Sanzone countered that it was collateral and irrelevant because it was a claim, not a lawsuit. The judge sided with the defense—the letter was not admitted and the witness was dismissed.
• • •
Joey Sanzone called Investigator Mike Mayhew back up on the stand to identify photos of the gun safe in the basement of Jocelyn’s home and of the holster found inside of it. Then he produced the actual holster along with the murder weapon and asked, “Will you stand and see if that gun will go into that holster?”
Mayhew slid it in and said, “Yes, sir, it does.”
On cross-examination, Krantz asked, “What did you have to do to get to that gun safe?”
“Actually, there were [ . . . ]bed frames and headboards and bed mattresses and boxes stacked up. We actually had to move . . . a lot of stuff to get in there.”
“The gun safe wasn’t accessible?”
“No, sir, it was not.”
“It was locked, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was.”
“And do gun holsters have serial numbers?”
“No, sir. Not that I am aware of.”
“Did you find any ammunition at the house associated with that firearm?”
“No, sir, I did not.”
• • •
Cindy Dawn King, a teacher at Great Bridge High School, stepped up to the stand next. She testified that Wesley had supervised and critiqued her teaching methods, providing her with his report on her performance on the afternoon of December 20, 2007.
When it was Wes Nance’s turn to question the witness, he said: “You made some observations about Mr. Earnest during the time that he was evaluating you that morning, correct?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“You noticed that he wasn’t paying much attention to you.”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“And you thought, ‘This is going to be the easiest evaluation I’ve ever had.’”
“I thought that.” Cindy went on to mention that Wesley had left the classroom at one point because, according to her students, he had to answer a call on his cell phone. After an objection on hearsay grounds, Nance wrapped up.
• • •
Al Ragas, technology liaison and technical support specialist at Great Bridge High, testified that he’d known Wesley for five years and thought he was efficient and conscientious.
He said that he had seen Wesley throughout the day on December 19 and met with him at 3:30 that afternoon to discuss a student’s misuse of the computer. When they finished dealing with that matter, Al said, he punched out, a little bit after 4 P.M. On December 20, he told the jury that he had seen Wesley at the school at 7:35 in the morning.
On cross, Krantz asked, “On the nineteenth, you didn’t notice anything unusual about Mr. Earnest [ . . . ]?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nothing?”
“No, sir.”
“And did Mr. Earnest ever complain of being ill that day to you?”
“No, he would not have.”
“What time did you punch out?”
“I believe it was four-something that I punched out.”
“You didn’t punch out at three twenty-six P.M.?”
“Three-twenty-six P.M. for lunch break [ . . . ] I was called at three thirty where I went to see Dr. Earnest.”
“So if we look at your time sheet, it will say you punched out at three twenty-six, correct?”
“Exactly.”
Krantz moved on to other topics, then asked, “Did you go to his house?”
“I’ve been to his house.”
“Did you go there for fun?”
“No.”
“Did you go there for work?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do at his house?”
“I did trim for him,” he said, referring to the carpentry work he did at Wesley’s lake home.
“And where was the house located?”
“At Smith Mountain Lake.”
“So he was your employer?”
“Yes.”
“He paid you?”
“No.”
“You did it for free?”
“No.”
“Well, did he pay you or did you do it for free?”
“He didn’t pay me and I didn’t do it for free.”
“How were you compensated?”
“He said that if I worked on the house then my wife and I would be able to maybe use it one time for a little getaway.”
“I understand. And did you do that?”
“No.”