A Matter of Life and Death

a bomb that blew up a train in Madrid, Spain?”
“I am aware of Mr. Mayfield’s case.”
“These were three top FBI examiners with over thirty years of experience; maybe some of the FBI examiners who trained you. And they made a horrible error that led to the arrest and incarceration of an innocent man.”
“Yes.”
“But you have never been wrong.”
“No.”
Robin paused and looked at the jury before asking her next question. Some of the jurors were frowning.
“Mr. Appleton, you testified that you found thirteen points in Exhibit 14, the known palm print of Mr. Lattimore, that matched thirteen points in Exhibit 30, the latent palm print that was found on the wall in the Carasco’s living room?”
“Yes.”
“Your Honor, may I go to the blowups?” Robin asked.
“You may.”
Robin studied the blowup of the palm print. Then she turned toward the witness.
“There are a lot of ridges in this palm print, aren’t there?”
“Yes.”
“Are there more than thirteen?”
“Yes.”
“But you stopped after comparing only thirteen?”
“I was satisfied that I had found enough points of similarity to conclude that the palm print belonged to your client.”
“Didn’t you tell the prosecutor that you would conclude that there was no match if you discovered one point on the palm or fingerprint that did not match?”
“Yes.”
“Was there a scientific reason you stopped analyzing these prints after you found thirteen points of comparison?”
“No.”
“So, you just concluded in your mind that thirteen was enough?”
“Yes.”
“You’re telling the jury that there is no scientific reason you stopped. You’d simply made up your mind that thirteen was enough?”
“Yes.”
“There are plenty of other ridge characteristics and end points and bifurcations on this palm print, aren’t there?”
“Yes.”
“If you had continued your examination, you might have found twenty matching points?”
“Yes.”
“Or fifty?”
“Yes.”
“What if point fifty-one did not match?”
“Well, I … Then the palm print wouldn’t belong to the defendant.”
“So, fifty matches and one mismatch would clear Mr. Lattimore’s name?”
“Yes.”
“You know that Mr. Lattimore could be sentenced to death, do you not?”
“I do.”
“But knowing that, you decided, for no scientific reason, that thirteen was enough to send a man to death row?”
“Objection,” Vanessa Cole said.
Robin turned her back on the witness. “I have no further questions of this man.”
“That was pretty dramatic,” Amanda whispered to Robin.
“Yeah,” Robin agreed, “but it doesn’t disprove Vanessa’s contention that Joe’s prints were found next to Betsy Carasco’s body.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“The State calls Ian Hennessey,” Vanessa Cole told the court when it convened on Wednesday morning.
Ian had barely slept, and he felt sick when he walked to the witness stand. He had to fight to keep his hand from shaking when he took the oath to tell the whole truth, because he knew that he could not tell the whole truth. If anyone found out that he’d lied under oath, he would definitely lose his job. In the worst-case scenario, he would go to prison for perjury.
Moments after taking the oath, Ian was sitting in the witness-box answering questions about his education and how long he had been employed as a deputy district attorney.
“So, you’re pretty new to the Multnomah County district attorney’s office?” Vanessa asked.
“Yes.”
“When did you start trying cases on your own?”
“About eight months ago.”
“Did you try a case in Judge Anthony Carasco’s courtroom recently where the defendant was represented by Robin Lockwood, Mr. Lattimore’s counsel?” Vanessa asked.
“Yes.”
“What did you think the result of that case was going to be?”
Ian turned red. “I thought I would get a guilty verdict.”
“What was the actual outcome?”
“The defendant was found not guilty.”
“Were you upset about losing the case?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take any steps to find out what you had done wrong so you could do a better job in the future?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
Ian felt hot and dizzy. This was the point in his testimony where he was going to commit perjury, but he couldn’t think of any way out of his predicament. His life would be ruined if he testified that he’d gone to see Anthony Carasco on the evening of the murder because he was being blackmailed by a prostitute.
“I asked Judge Carasco if he would tell me what I’d done wrong, so I would improve the way I tried cases in the future.”
Ian prayed silently that the prosecutor or Robin Lockwood wouldn’t ask why the mentoring session was over a week after the Stassen trial.
“Where did this discussion take place?”
“It was late—around six o’clock—so the judge suggested that we talk over dinner at Bocci’s, an Italian restaurant.”
“During dinner, did the judge receive a phone call?”
“Yes.”
“What time did he get this call?”
“It was around seven fifteen.”
“Who made the call?”
“The judge told me that his wife was calling.”
“When did the call end?”
“A few minutes later.”
“After dinner, did you drive the judge home?”
“Yes.”
“When did you turn onto Judge Carasco’s street?’
“It was sometime after eight o’clock, about eight fifteen, I think.”
“Did you see anyone near the judge’s home?”
“Yes.”
“Tell the jury what you saw.”
Ian’s mouth was dry, and he took a drink of water. “There was a man standing in the street.”
“What did this man look like?”
“It was hard to tell, because I wasn’t close enough to make out any details.”
“Could you tell his race?”
“Yes. He was African American.”
“What about his build?”
“All I can say was that he looked average, normal.”
“Did your headlights illuminate the man?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He stared at us for a second. Then he threw up his arm to block his face and ran between two houses on the other side of the street.”
“Did you go inside Judge Carasco’s house?”
“Yes.”
“Tell the jury what you discovered in the living room.”
Ian swallowed. “It was Mrs. Carasco. She was lying on the floor in a pool of blood.”
“No further questions, Your Honor,” Vanessa said.
“I have a few,” Robin said. “It was raining very hard by the time you turned onto Judge Carasco’s street, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And your windshield wipers were going full blast?”
“Yes.”
“And it was very dark?”
“Yes.”
“You testified that you saw a man standing in the road near Judge Carasco’s house?”
“Yes.”
“How far was your car from the man when you first saw him?”
“Several house lengths.”
“And the houses on