Resurrection Walk

It wasn’t a lie. Lucinda had called collect from the detention center the night before and I had told her that there might be a remaining GSR pad from the original investigation. I walked her through what a DNA test could prove. She told me what I had just told the judge: that she was innocent and, if given the chance, would do the test.

“Your Honor,” I added, “the cell-tower data plus the crime re-creation, though it was disallowed by the court, show my client’s innocence. This test will as well.”

“I admire your confidence in your client and what you believe the evidence will show,” Coelho said. “But then why do you need the subpoena and court order to be under seal?”

“Because until we have a result, my fear is that there could be an obstruction of justice.”

“Oh, come now, Mr. Haller. Do you really think so? Someone is going to break in at Applied Forensics and steal the evidence?”

“It’s a possibility, Judge. Since taking on this case, both my investigator and I have had break-ins at our homes, although seemingly nothing was taken. My home office was ransacked and my computer destroyed — maple syrup poured onto the keyboard. These were acts of intimidation and I would ask the court to seal this until we have a test result. Once we have that, the court can share it with the world if it so wishes.”

“Are there police reports on these break-ins?”

“Yes, we both made reports and I can request copies from the LAPD if the court needs them. But as I said, time is of the essence here. I also filed an insurance claim to cover a new computer and pay for the cleanup. In fact, they wouldn’t take a claim without a police report. Anyway, in the old days when people wanted to intimidate you, they’d urinate or defecate on your stuff. But with DNA tracing, they got smarter. They used a bottle of my own maple syrup — a gift from my daughter.”

“Lovely.”

She paused for a moment, as if considering whether to believe me about the break-ins without seeing the official documentation.

“How fast can this testing be done?” she finally said.

“If we get Lucinda Sanz’s DNA to them by the end of the day, we’ll have results by Monday,” I said.

“That will be a task, getting the marshals at detention to act that quickly.”

“You could give me the subpoena and an order from you allowing me immediate access to my client.”

Coelho shook her head. She started writing on a legal pad.

“No, we’re not going to do that,” she said. “I want the U.S. Marshals Service to handle the collection of DNA and its delivery to the lab. That way, there will be no issues later with chain of custody should this work out the way you think and hope it will.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” I said. “Very smart.”

“Don’t be obsequious, Mr. Haller. It doesn’t look good on you.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“I’ll prepare these now and have copies for you within the hour. It will probably take me the same amount of time it will take you to go to the cafeteria and get my clerk an apology macchiato.”

I was silent. She looked up from her writing.

“Yes, he told me about those,” she said. “Each time he told me. He didn’t want there to be any question of favoritism.”

“Understood,” I said.

“You can go. Wait in the courtroom. Gian will bring you copies when they’re ready.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”

I got up and headed to the door. I was elated but trying not to show it. I put my hand on the knob but then looked back at the judge. She had already turned her seat to face the computer on a side table, but somehow she knew I had not left the room.

“Something else, Mr. Haller?” she asked.

“You said you were using the day for writing,” I said. “Because of the continuance.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Would you reconsider the ruling on Dr. Arslanian’s crime re-creation? Judge, I think you have a chance to make a sig—”

“Don’t push it, Mr. Haller. If I were you, I’d leave while I was ahead.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

I opened the door and stepped out.

37

On Sunday, the Lucinda Sanz team, now grudgingly including Frank Silver, gathered without our client in the mock courtroom at Southwestern Law School. As an alumnus who was a minor donor but had a mostly positive public profile — especially after the Ochoa case — I was afforded access to the school’s facilities when they were not in use. And so we set up shop in the small courtroom that featured a judge’s bench, a witness stand, and a small gallery. Monday would be the day we won or lost our habeas motion and I wanted those who could rehearse to rehearse.

The DNA results from Applied Forensics, which we’d expected on Friday, were late, and I’d spent the past two days working on my witness lineup the way a baseball manager works on a batting lineup for the first game of the World Series. I had to figure out who was up there to bunt, who might be able to steal a base, and who could bat cleanup. I had to figure out what the opposing team would be pitching to my hitters and how best to prepare them.