Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(75)

Methodically, like a tested surgeon, Helen took Melvin through his experience as a coroner, going over his expertise in determining the cause and time of death in thousands of cases. After establishing his acumen in forensics, Helen got right to the heart of it.

“Dr. Ragland, did you have an opportunity to examine the body of Andy Walton?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did. On the morning of August 19, 2011, Mr. Walton’s body was taken to our crime lab, where I performed an autopsy.”

“And can you tell the jury your opinion as to the cause of Andy Walton’s death?”

Melvin adjusted his eyes toward the twelve juror seats and leaned forward in his chair. “Andy Walton died as a result of one gunshot wound to the head.”

“And were you able to determine the type of gun that killed Mr. Walton?”

Ragland nodded, still looking at the jury. “Twelve-gauge shotgun. A shell casing found under Mr. Walton’s vehicle was twelve-gauge buckshot. I compared the entry and exit points of the shot to those of a twelve-gauge buckshot shell, and they were identical.”

“Were you able to reach a conclusion as to the time of death?”

“Yes. Based on the statements of the witnesses at the Sundowners Club, who saw Mr. Walton alive at just after 1:00 a.m., and the surveillance tape of Mr. Haynes’s vehicle leaving the club at 1:20 a.m., it was my determination that Mr. Walton died at approximately 1:15 a.m.”

Helen nodded at Dr. Ragland. “Thank you, Doctor. I have no further questions.”

“Cross-examination?” Judge Connelly turned to the defense table.

Tom and Rick had long decided not to cross-examine Dr. Ragland, because there were no points to be gained. “We have no questions at this time,” Tom said. “However, we reserve the right to recall Dr. Ragland during our case-in-chief.”

“Very well,” Connelly said. “The witness is excused for now, but Dr. Ragland”—Connelly glanced his way—“don’t leave town.”

“I haven’t in twelve years, Judge,” Ragland said, which elicited some laughs from the jurors.

Smiling to herself a little, Connelly turned her attention to the prosecution table. “Call your next witness, General.”



The next witness called by the prosecution was Dr. Malacuy Ward from the State Forensics Lab in Nashville. Dr. Ward was a scientist who specialized in ballistics. After establishing his credentials as an expert, Helen had Dr. Ward take the jury through the difficulties in tracing whether a particular shotgun was used in the commission of a crime. Dr. Ward testified that there was no way to trace whether a “projectile,” as he called it, came from a particular weapon, because a shotgun leaves no barrel markings on the lead projectiles in a shell as it’s fired. However, if an empty shell casing was retrieved, it was possible to determine if that shell casing was fired from a particular shotgun by extractor marks on the brass base. Helen concluded in grand style, taking a plastic baggie from the evidence table and handing it to Dr. Ward.

“Dr. Ward, did we ask you to compare an empty shell casing found at the scene of Andy Walton’s murder to a particular shotgun seized in the investigation?”

“Yes, you did. I compared the shell you provided with a shotgun registered to Bocephus Aurulius Haynes.”

“And you are aware that Mr. Haynes is the defendant in this case?” Helen pointed at Bo.

“Yes.”

“And please tell the jury what your testing revealed.”

Ward leaned forward and looked at the jury. “After testing the empty shell casing with the shotgun registered to Mr. Haynes, we found an exact match. The extractor marks on the casing from the empty shell matched Mr. Haynes’s shotgun.”

Almost in unison all of the jurors turned their eyes to Bo. Of all of the physical evidence, Tom knew that this, with the possible exception of the surveillance video from the Sundowners, was the most damning. An empty shotgun shell fired from Bo’s gun was found within a few feet of where Andy Walton was killed.

“Thank you, Dr. Ward. I have no further questions.”



Tom kept his cross-examination short and to the point. “Dr. Ward, you are aware that the lead projectile, or in layman terms, the buckshot that killed Andy Walton, was discovered, correct?”

“Yes, that is my understanding.”

“But you performed no testing on the actual buckshot, did you?”

Ward shook his head. “No. As I indicated earlier, you cannot trace the ballistics on the projectile. That would have been a futile exercise. The shotgun does not leave any barrel markings on the projectile.”

“And there is no way to test for sure whether the shot that killed Andy Walton came out of the empty shell casing that you examined.”

“Correct.”

“So, isn’t it true then, Doctor, that there is no way to determine whether the empty shell casing traced to Bo Haynes’s shotgun actually came from the shell that killed Andy Walton?”

Ward shrugged. “Yes. That is true.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ward. No further questions.”





60


At 3:30 p.m. Booker T. Rowe was called to the stand, with Helen promising the court that he would be a short witness. As Bo’s massive cousin trudged toward the witness chair, Tom let his eyes drift to the gallery, which was again filled to capacity. He noticed that for the third straight day, Jasmine Haynes had attached an orange corsage to her dress just above her heart. Curious, Tom had asked Jazz about the garnish this morning. “When the Klan marched in 1989 with the Aryan Nation, the people here protested by putting orange wreaths and ribbons on all the business doors,” she had explained. “Orange is the international color of brotherhood. Bo and I were part of that protest, and I guess I’m . . . trying to send a message.”