Illegal Alien Page 15

  “But not expert in this specialized area. There are experts in footprinting, are there not? Jacob Howley in Boston is this country’s top person in this field, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “And Karen Hunt-Podborski of the San Francisco PD, she’s probably this state’s top footprint expert, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. Her or Bill Chong.”

  “But you’re not in the league of Doctor—Doctor!—Howley, are you, in the area of footprints?”

  “No.”

  “Nor in the league of Ms. Hunt-Podborski, or Mr. Chong, are you?”

  “No.”

  “So that U-shaped bloody mark might be a Tosok footprint, but then it might be—well, we could have the court reporter read it back, but I believe you yourself likened it to a horseshoe?”

  “Yes, I did, but—”

  “Indeed, the mark is blurred and indistinct, isn’t it? And the blood that made it was still wet enough to flow a bit, wasn’t it? And so, really, you can’t to a scientific degree of certainty say what made that mark, can you?”

  Feinstein let his breath out.

  “Can you?”

  “No. No, I suppose I can’t.”

  “Thank you,” said Dale. “Thank you very much.”

  CHAPTER

  19

  It was pouring rain the next day. The courtroom was filled with the smell of moist clothing, and umbrellas were lined up against one of the wood-paneled walls.

  “State and spell your name, please,” said the clerk.

  “My name is Jesus Perez, J-E-S-U-S, P-E-R-E-Z, and I will ask the court reporter to note with phonetic spelling that Jesus is pronounced ‘Hay-soos,’ not ‘Jesus.’”

  The Latino clerk winked at Perez.

  Ziegler rose and moved over to the lectern, depositing a sheaf of notes on it. “Mr. Perez, what is your current job?”

  “I’m a detective lieutenant with the homicide division of the Los Angeles Police Department.”

  “In that capacity, did you have cause to visit the University of Southern California on December twenty-second of last year?”

  “I actually arrived after midnight, so it was early on the morning of December twenty-third.”

  “Why were you called there?”

  “A police officer assigned to provide security for the Tosok delegation had found a badly mutilated body there.”

  “Did you ascertain whose body this was?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you do so?”

  “Well, initially by the identification found on the body, and—”

  “Excuse me, did you say identification?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was this identification?”

  “In the man’s wallet.”

  “This body still had a wallet on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was there anything besides identification in the wallet?”

  “Yes, there were four credit cards—Visa Gold, MasterCard, American Express, and Discover. There was also a phone card; an American Airlines frequent-flier card; a library card; a discount coupon for Bo-Jays, which is a pizzeria in Santa Monica; and the deceased man’s driver’s license.”

  “Did the wallet contain anything else?”

  “Yes. It contained two hundred and fifty-three dollars in cash, plus one British twenty-pound note.”

  “Is it unusual to find cash on a murder victim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because many homicides occur during robberies. Clearly, that was not the motive in this case, and—”

  “Objection!” said Dale. “Speculative. Move to strike.”

  “Sustained,” said Pringle. “The jury will disregard the detective’s comment as to motive.”

  “Lieutenant Perez, you said the wallet was only part of the identification.”

  “Yes, the body was also identified by two of Dr. Calhoun’s associates, Dr. Packwood Smathers of the University of Toronto—who was part of the international entourage accompanying the Tosoks—and Dr. Frank Nobilio, science advisor to the president.”

  “And who did the dead man turn out to be?”

  “One Cletus Robert Calhoun.”

  “Detective, were you the person who arrested Hask?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was the arrest warrant sworn out in your name?”

  “It was.”

  “Your Honor, we introduce that warrant now, as People’s thirty-one.”

  “Mr. Rice?”

  “No objection.”

  “Introduced and marked,” said Pringle.

  “Detective, is it therefore safe to say that it was you who made the determination that Hask was the most likely suspect in this crime?”

  Rice nudged Michiko Katayama. “Objection!” she said. “Prejudicial.”

  “I’ll rephrase: you made the decision to arrest Hask, correct?”

  “In consultation with District Attorney Montgomery Ajax, yes.”

  “We’ve already heard compelling evidence that the crime was committed by a Tosok, and—”

  Michiko was warming to this: “Objection! Counsel is arguing her case.”

  “Your Honor, is Ms. Katayama now—”

  “No sale, Ms. Ziegler,” said Pringle. “Sustained.”

  “There are seven Tosoks on Earth, Detective. Why did you bring charges against Hask in particular?”

  “Three reasons. First, Hask and Calhoun spent considerable time alone together. They interacted in different ways than did Calhoun and the other Tosoks, who never saw him alone.

  “Second, the marking I believe to be a bloody footprint at the crime scene is smaller and shaped differently than the one made by Captain Kelkad at the Chinese Theatre—that eliminates Kelkad from suspicion, and we were also able to eliminate Dodnaskak, who at a glance anyone can see has much larger feet.”

  “Objection. Facts not in evidence.”

  “Sustained,” said Pringle. “The jury is advised that the bloody mark at the scene has not been proven to be a Tosok footprint.”

  “You were saying, Lieutenant…?”

  “Well, yes, then there’s the fact that Hask shed his skin. The murderer—”

  Michiko again: “Objection—there’s no proof that a murder, as opposed to manslaughter, took place.”

  “Sustained.”

  Perez glowered at the Asian woman. “The perpetrator, then. The perp might very well have gotten covered in blood; shedding his entire outer skin would be a handy way to deal with that fact.”

  “Did you make an effort to recover Hask’s shed skin?”

  “I did, aided by my colleagues. Hask said he simply bagged it up and put it in the campus garbage.”

  “And have you managed to recover the skin?”

  “No.”

  “Do you in fact believe Hask when he says he simply threw the skin out?”

  “Objection!” shouted Michiko.

  “Overruled.”

  “No, I don’t. If it was blood-spattered, he’d have wanted to dispose of it more completely. It could have been chopped into small bits and flushed down a toilet; it could have been buried; it could have been eaten; it could have been burned—”

  Dale’s turn: “Objection. Pure speculation. There’s no evidence that Tosok skin is flammable.”

  “Sustained,” said Judge Pringle. “The jury will disregard Detective Perez’s speculation; he is not qualified as an expert on—on Tosok dermatology.”

  “Besides the fact that they’d spent time alone together, Detective,” said Ziegler, “and beside the shed skin, did you have any other reason to suspect Hask over the other Tosoks?”

  “Yes. He had no alibi. Most of the others were in broad public view attending a guest lecture by Stephen Jay Gould at USC during the time that Dr. Calhoun was killed.”

  “Thank you.” Ziegler gathered up her notes. “Your witness, Mr. Rice.”

  Dale Rice squeezed out from behind the defense table and made his
way to the lectern. “Detective Perez, is robbery the only human motive for committing murder?”

  “No.”

  “Isn’t it in fact true that robbery represents only a tiny fraction of the reasons why one human being might kill another?”

  “It’s a significant reason, but—”

  “But it’s a minority reason, isn’t it?” said Dale. “There are all kinds of motives for one human being to kill another, yes?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “You said Dr. Calhoun and Hask had spent considerable time alone together.”

  “Yes.”

  “Indeed, you testified that none of the other Tosoks were ever alone with Calhoun. Do you know that for a fact?”

  “Well—”

  “No, you don’t, do you? You don’t know that at all.”

  “Hask and Calhoun had a special bond; they had traveled together to the mothership from the Kitty Hawk.”

  “But you have no proof that over the last several months that Calhoun didn’t spend a lot of time alone with other Tosoks, correct?”

  “Well, yes. I suppose.”

  “You suppose. I see. Now, about this bloody mark, which you referred to as a footprint. You said it didn’t match either of the ones Kelkad had left in cement outside Mann’s Chinese Theatre, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “But those are the only known Tosok footprints you have to work with, and it’s your testimony that the mark at the crime scene didn’t match them in size or shape.”

  “Well, they didn’t match exactly, but—”

  “Not the same size, you said. Not the same shape.”

  “Not precisely.”

  “So, in fact, the bloody mark at the crime scene might not be a Tosok footprint at all.”

  “Oh, come on, counselor—”

  “It doesn’t match your one reference sample. The best you can say is that it’s somewhat similar to a Tosok footprint.”

  “It’s very similar.”

  “Just as, oh, say, Canada is very similar to the United States. Similar, sir, but not the same. Now, sir, still on the matter of the footprints at the Chinese Theatre: Harrison Ford’s footprints are there—did you compare the impressions in the cement to Mr. Ford’s actual footprints?”

  “What? No.”

  “Eddie Murphy’s are there, too. Did you track down Eddie Murphy and compare the shape and size of his actual feet to the footprints in the cement?”

  “No.”

  “Dick Van Dyke? Tom Cruise? George Lucas? Paul Newman? Did you check to see how closely their real footprints match the cement impressions?”

  “No.”

  “Cement expands in the heat and contracts in the cold, Mr. Perez; that’s why sidewalks sometimes buckle on hot days. Even if the mark at the crime scene is a footprint—which I doubt—the fact that it’s smaller than the marks you measured in the cement outside Mann’s Chinese Theatre doesn’t prove anything, does it?”

  Ziegler’s second chair, Trina Diamond, decided that she, too, should get into the act: “Objection! Argumentative!”

  “Withdrawn,” said Dale, with a courtly bow at Ms. Diamond. “Now, to the question of what happened to Hask’s shed skin. You testified he told you he threw it out.”

  “That’s right.”

  “In a garbage bag, put out with the campus trash.”

  “That’s what he claimed.”

  “Did you determine which dump the University of Southern California’s trash is taken to?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you visit that dump and try to find the bag containing the skin?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you say you did not find it.”

  “I did not find it.”

  “Let’s reflect on that a moment, Lieutenant. If you found the shed skin, and it was clean and free of bloodstains, your case pretty much evaporates, doesn’t it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Indeed, the fact that Hask’s old skin is missing is the best thing that could have happened to you, isn’t it? You don’t have to see if the diamond-shaped objects found at the crime scene match any possible holes left by any missing scales in that old skin. And you don’t have to explain why it might be clean and free of bloodstains.”

  “Objection,” said Ziegler. “Counsel is arguing his case.”

  “Overruled,” said Pringle, “but tread softly, Mr. Rice.”

  “On what day did you go to the dump, Detective?”

  “I’d have to consult my notes.”

  “During pretrial deposition, you said it was December twenty-fourth.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Do you remember what the weather was like that day?”

  “Not offhand.”

  “Your Honor, I would like to now enter into evidence this report from the LAX meteorological office, showing that last December twenty-fourth was exceptionally hot—seventy-five in the shade.”

  “Ms. Ziegler?” asked Pringle.

  “No objection.”

  “So entered.”

  “Seventy-five in the shade,” repeated Dale. “One can well imagine that you didn’t really feel like poking through garbage in that heat.”

  “I do my job.”

  “And the smell—let’s not forget about the smell. Even on a normal winter day, a garbage dump reeks, Detective. On that exceptionally hot day, the smell must have been overpowering.”

  “Not as I recall.”

  “Surely no one could blame you for not spending too much time rooting around, opening green garbage bag after green garbage bag, while the sun beat down upon you—especially since it was, after all, Christmas Eve. No doubt you were in a hurry to get home to your family.”

  “I did a thorough search.”

  “You pretty much have to say that, don’t you?”

  “Object—”

  “Of course I have to say it. I’m under oath, and it’s the truth.”

  Dale smiled. “Smooth, detective. Very smooth. No further questions.”

  CHAPTER

  20

  “The People call the Tosok named Stant.”

  Stant rose from one of the six Tosok chairs in the seating gallery and strode through the gate into the well in front of Judge Pringle’s bench.

  “You do solemnly swear or affirm,” said the clerk, “that the testimony you may give in the cause now pending before this Court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do.”

  “State your name, please.”

  “Stant. Phonetically: S-T-A-N-T.”

  “Be seated.” While Stant was being sworn in, a bailiff had removed the standard chair from the witness stand and replaced it with another Tosok one. Stant made himself comfortable, the high sides of the chair nestling in the hollows beneath where his legs joined his torso.

  Linda Ziegler rose. “Stant, before we begin, I think it’s necessary to talk a bit about that oath you just swore. Do you know the difference between lying and telling the truth?”

  “Of course.”

  “You said ‘I do’ when the clerk said, ‘So help you God?’”

  “Yes.”

  “Do Tosoks in general believe in a higher being?”

  “Yes.”

  “This being—he or she is held to be the creator?”

  “She is the creator of the universe, yes. And of certain lifeforms.”

  “And do you personally subscribe to a belief in this being?”

  “Yes.”

  “So when you invoke God’s aid in helping you tell the truth, you are in fact calling on a power in which you personally believe?”

  “I am.”

  “You understand the weight we place on telling the truth during a trial, don’t you?”

  “It has been explained to me at length. I will tell the truth.”

  “Thank you—and forgive me for asking those questions. Now, please, Stant, tell us what your relationship is to the defenda
nt, Hask?”

  “I am his half brother.”

  Ziegler was visibly flustered. “I—I beg your pardon?”

  “I believe I have used the term correctly. We have the same mother, but different fathers.”

  Ziegler glanced over at Dale. Dale was as shocked by this revelation as Ziegler was, but he kept a poker face. She then looked behind Dale to where Nobilio was sitting; he, too, had an expression of complete surprise on his face: eyebrows high, open mouth rounded into a circle. It had been a simple, pro forma opening question, and she’d doubtless anticipated the answer to be, “I’m his shipmate” or “he’s my coworker” or something equally obvious. She visibly tried to regain her own composure. “Your half brother,” she repeated.

  Stant’s tuft waved front to back; the Tosok equivalent of a nod. “Yes.”

  “Your Honor,” said Ziegler, “permission to treat the witness as hostile.”

  “I am not hostile,” said Stant.

  Judge Pringle looked at Stant. “By hostile, she means vehemently opposed to the prosecution’s case. Now please don’t speak again until I’ve ruled in this matter.”

  “Your Honor,” said Dale, rising to his feet and spreading his giant arms, “the defense objects. Stant has exhibited no hostility.”

  “Your Honor,” said Ziegler, “some latitude would be appropriate.”

  Pringle frowned. “Being someone’s brother doesn’t necessarily confer hostile status. Besides, we don’t know anything about Tosok family relationships. I’m going to reserve judgment until we do.”

  “Very well,” said Ziegler. She turned to Stant. “Let’s find out a bit about them, then. Stant, how is that you come to be Hask’s half brother?”

  “I have male genitalia. Otherwise, I would be his half sister.”

  The jury laughed. Ziegler looked annoyed. Dale sympathized with her. She had no idea what was going to come out here, and that was a position no lawyer liked to be in. “Are you the product of a broken home?”

  “Our domicile was intact.”

  “No, no. What I mean is, did your parents divorce? Why is it that the same female had children by two males?”

  “My mother had children by four males, of course,” said Stant.

  “Four males,” said Ziegler, blinking.

  “That is correct.”

  Ziegler paused, apparently trying to formulate a proper question. Finally, she looked again at Dale, as if entreating him not to object simply for the sake of objecting, and said to Stant, “Perhaps you could explain Tosok reproduction to us…if that’s not a private matter, that is.”