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With the prosecutor’s click of the remote, the samples disappeared, and Dr. Stone returned on the flat-screen.
“What does that tell you, Dr. Stone?” the prosecutor asked.
“My conclusion is that these two messages, though similar, were written by two different people.”
It was going exactly as Andie had told Jack it would. All Jack could do was listen, as the witness breathed life into the prosecutor’s case.
“Why does it indicate two different people?” asked Owens.
“It makes no sense that the message would fade or smudge exactly in the same place twice. More likely, the later sample is a meticulous copy of the first.”
“I see,” said the prosecutor. “So, whoever wrote ‘goodbye girl’ on Ms. Dwyer’s body was making a meticulous copy of the message found on Mr. McCormick’s body. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. It is so meticulous that the copy even duplicates features that are not part of the original author’s handwriting pattern, such as the smudges caused by water or other external factors.”
“Thank you, Dr. Stone. I have no further questions.”
The judge rocked back in his leather desk chair, stroking his chin, as if he’d already heard enough. Nonetheless, he looked at Jack and said, “Cross-examination, Mr. Swyteck?”
“Yes, Judge,” said Jack, remaining in his seat. “So, we have a copycat. Is that your conclusion, Dr. Stone?”
“Yes. In plain English, that’s one way to put it.”
“Just to be clear: you are not testifying that we have two different killers, are you?”
“I have no opinion on that.”
“Even if you’re right, and two different people wrote the ‘goodbye girl’ samples, it doesn’t necessarily follow that we have two different killers. Does it?”
He seemed to understand Jack’s point, but he was too well trained to concede anything that didn’t need to be conceded. “I have no opinion on that,” he said.
“Dr. Stone, earlier in this trial, we heard testimony from Mr. Nichols’s former bodyguard, a Mr. Paxton. He claims to have written ‘goodbye girl’ on Mr. McCormick’s body. Are you aware of that?”
“I’ve been made aware,” said the witness.
“Have you compared Mr. Paxton’s handwriting to the handwriting in the McCormick photograph?”
It was a straightforward question, but answering it seemed to cause the witness some consternation. “I have not.”
“Have you been asked to perform that analysis?”
Another pause. “I have not been asked.”
It was as Jack had expected. “Has it occurred to you that no one asked because your analysis could prove that the state’s star witness is a liar?”
“Objection,” said Owens.
“Sustained,” said the judge, all but groaning. “Mr. Swyteck, the point of this hearing was to determine whether the FBI investigation has confirmed that Mr. McCormick’s killer is still on the loose and active. If anything, Dr. Stone’s testimony suggests the opposite. I understand your efforts to salvage something from this hearing, but let’s face facts. You stepped up to the plate, you swung for the fences, and you whiffed.”
True enough, Jack was trying to salvage a bad situation, but the judge’s words were unusually harsh. It was just a hunch on Jack’s part, but Judge Cookson seemed to be under the impression that Jack had demanded testimony from an FBI witness only because he knew with absolute certainty that the testimony would confirm the existence of a single killer and eviscerate the prosecution’s case. In other words, the judge had assumed that Jack’s trial strategy was informed by pillow talk. It was the very thing Andie worried most about in the marriage of a law enforcement officer to a criminal defense lawyer, and it left Andie’s words echoing in his ear.
This isn’t working, Jack.
“I see no basis to dismiss the indictment,” the judge said. “This case is going back before the jury at nine a.m. tomorrow. We’re adjourned.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Owens.
The lawyers packed up their computers and other items, and they exited to the hallway. The prosecutor and DOJ lawyer took the first elevator down to the ground-floor lobby. Defense counsel and their clients waited for the next one.
