The Reversal

“Is this what you meant about being a hired gun, Doctor? You take the prosecution’s side no matter what the facts are?”

“I don’t always work for prosecutors.”

“I’m happy for you.”

I stood up.

“Your Honor, he’s badgering the witness with-”

“Mr. Royce,” the judge said. “Please keep it civil. And on point.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Doctor, of the twenty thousand autopsies you have performed, how many of them were on victims of sexually motivated violence?”

Eisenbach looked across the floor to me, but there was nothing I could do for him. Bosch had taken Maggie’s place at the prosecution table. He leaned over to me and whispered.

“What’s he doing? Trying to make our case?”

I held up my hand so I would not be distracted from the back-and-forth between Royce and Eisenbach.

“No, he’s making their case,” I whispered back.

Eisenbach still hadn’t answered.

“Doctor,” the judge said, “please answer the question.”

“I don’t have a count but many of them were sexually motivated crimes.”

“Was this one?”

“Based on the autopsy findings I could not make that conclusion. But whenever you have a young child, particularly a female, and there is a stranger abduction, then you are almost always-”

“Move to strike the answer as nonresponsive,” Royce said, cutting the witness off. “The witness is assuming facts not in evidence.”

The judge considered the objection. I stood up, ready to respond but said nothing.

“Doctor, please answer only the question you are asked,” the judge said.

“I thought I was,” Eisenbach said.

“Then let me be more specific,” Royce said. “You found no indications of sexual assault or abuse on the body of Melissa Landy, is that correct, Doctor?”

“That is correct.”

“What about on the victim’s clothing?”

“The body is my jurisdiction. The clothing is analyzed by forensics.”

“Of course.”

Royce hesitated and looked down at his notes. I could tell he was trying to decide how far to take something. It was a case of “so far, so good-do I risk going further?”

Finally, he decided.

“Now, Doctor, a moment ago when I objected to your answer, you called this a stranger abduction. What evidence from the autopsy supported that claim?”

Eisenbach thought for a long moment and even looked down at the autopsy report in front of him.

“Doctor?”

“Uh, there is nothing I recall from the autopsy alone that supports this.”

“Actually, the autopsy supports a conclusion quite the opposite, doesn’t it?”

Eisenbach looked genuinely confused.

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“Can I draw your attention to page eight of the autopsy protocol? The preliminary examination of the body.”

Royce waited a moment until Eisenbach turned to the page. I did as well but didn’t need to. I knew where Royce was going and couldn’t stop him. I just needed to be ready to object at the right moment.

“Doctor, the report states that scrapings of the victim’s fingernails were negative for blood and tissue. Do you see that on page eight?”

“Yes, I scraped her nails but they were clean.”

“This indicates she did not scratch her attacker, her killer. Correct?”

“That would be the indication, yes.”

“And this would also indicate that she knew her attack-”

“Objection!”

I was on my feet but not quick enough. Royce had gotten the suggestion out and to the jury.

“Assumes facts not in evidence,” I said. “Your Honor, defense counsel is clearly attempting to plant seeds with the jury that do not exist.”

“Sustained. Mr. Royce, a warning.”

“Yes, Your Honor. The defense has no further questions for this prosecution witness.”

Twenty-eight

Monday, April 5, 4:45 P.M.

Bosch knocked on the door of room 804 and looked directly at the peephole. The door was quickly opened by McPherson, who was checking her watch as she stood back to let him enter.

“Why aren’t you in court with Mickey?” she asked.

Bosch entered. The room was a suite with a decent view of Grand Avenue and the back of the Biltmore. There was a couch and two chairs, one of them occupied by Sarah Ann Gleason. Bosch nodded his hello.

“Because he doesn’t need me there. I’m needed here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Royce tipped his hand on the defense’s case. I need to talk to Sarah about it.”

He started toward the couch but McPherson put her hand on his arm and stopped him.

“Wait a minute. Before you talk to Sarah you talk to me. What’s going on?”

Bosch nodded. She was right. He looked around but there was no place for private conversation in the suite.

“Let’s take a walk.”

McPherson went to the coffee table and grabbed a key card.

“We’ll be right back, Sarah. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be here.”

She held up a sketchpad. It would keep her company.

Bosch and McPherson left the room and took the elevator down to the lobby. There was a bar crowded with pre-happy hour drinkers but they found a private spot in a sitting area by the front door.

“Okay, how did Royce tip his hand?” McPherson asked.

“When he was cross-examining Eisenbach, he riffed off of Mickey’s question about the killer using only his right hand to choke her.”