Page 16 of The 1 Lawyer
Gordon-James asked, “What is DNA?”
I blinked. Gordon-James had just made his first mistake.
When the expert replied, he sounded like a human science textbook. “DNA is deoxyribonucleic acid, a complex molecule that contains each person’s unique genetic code. It is composed of two polynucleotide chains that coil into a double helix carrying genetic instructions for development, growth, and reproduction. It contains all the information necessary to build and maintain an organism.”
The expert was glowing with excitement. The dude waxed eloquent on the science of DNA. He left out no technical detail.
Wise lawyers say that, for expert testimony, give the jurors a KISS: Keep It Short and Simple.
I swiveled in my seat and sneaked a look at the jurors. He’d lost nine or ten of them already. They sat with glazed expressions, like kids forced to watch a boring video in biology class. Some of them seemed about to nod off.
The witness finally wrapped up the lecture, beaming. And the DA said, “Mr. McNabb, how do you develop a DNA profile?”
And the expert was off again, describing a world that very few people in the courtroom understood. I inspected my client a couple of times. Caro was following the thread. He looked interested.
No one else did.
That changed, though.
The overhead screen flashed to an image of State’s exhibit number ten, one of the swabs that the medical examiner had taken from the deceased as part of the rape kit.
“Did you perform a DNA analysis on State’s exhibit number ten, Mr. McNabb?”
“I did.”
“How does that profile compare to the DNA sample taken from the defendant, Daniel Caro?”
“There are no differences in the DNA sample from exhibit ten, taken from the deceased’s cervical os, and the known DNA sample we took from the defendant.”
I swallowed, resisting the urge to look at my client.
“What are the odds that someone else would have the same DNA profile as the defendant, Daniel Caro?”
“Negligible. One in four hundred quadrillion people would have the same profile. But there are only seven billion people on the planet.”
I checked out the jury again. They weren’t sleepy any longer. Some were watching the expert witness. Others were staring at my client.
So. They got it, despite the expert’s loquacious overkill.
The rape kit picked up semen. It had been found on the swab taken from the victim’s cervix. And the DNA from that swab matched Dr. Caro’s DNA.
It might not be his, of course. There was a one in four hundred quadrillion chance it was someone else’s.
CHAPTER 14
AT MIDAFTERNOON, the DNA expert was still on the stand, and I was doing my cross.
I’d been trying to build to a big breakthrough, but I wasn’t anywhere close. Finally, Judge Walker cut me off. “We’re adjourning for the day, folks.”
I checked my watch. Really? Walker was shaving off even more time from the courtroom proceedings today than he had yesterday. I suspected the old guy was suffering from burnout. He waved us up to the bench.
He whispered to Gordon-James and me, “Juror number seven says she’s got a migraine. She told the bailiff it’s getting so bad, she can’t concentrate. She needs to take her medicine, but it’ll knock her out.”
So that was it.
After the judge and jury left the courtroom, I didn’t linger. My client wasn’t disposed to talk to me. It was an appropriate reaction on his part; it had been a bad day for the defense.
Gordon-James was huddled up with the family of the deceased. As I walked past them, Aurora’s father looked over at me, but I avoided meeting his eyes.