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"I want to know what happened," Reynolds stated firmly.
Beauford pressed his index finger against his nostril and moved it in small circles. "A man needed to die. He got some help. A lot of it." Beauford sat back, more relaxed. "The world went on," he spoke casually. "Might even have been a better place. What's that sayin' about youth bein' impetuous?" He shrugged his shoulders. "We were impulsive. Afraid before we had to be." He partially covered a yawn. "h.e.l.l, if we'd just waited, been a little more patient, you all would've killed each other." He removed his hat and brushed back his blond and gray hair. "Just like vicious dogs trained to protect where they p.i.s.s." He picked up a paperback book that rested on a nearby lounge chair. "You said your name was Jimmy?" Beauford flipped through the pages until he found his bookmark, a thin red ribbon.
"James," corrected Reynolds.
Beauford nodded that he recalled. "James," he said invitingly, "get the f.u.c.k off my property." He returned to reading his book.
CHAPTER 43.
CALLED AS THE state's first witness, Federal Agent Marsh testified for nearly three hours in a professional if not rehea.r.s.ed manner. He covered his area of expertise and explained forensic science in lay terms. He proudly discussed the role of the FBI and detailed how the Bureau's laboratories were the best in the world. He used a pointer to highlight a series of crime scene photos of Cooper's barn, attached to a large poster display. He placed a red circle around a magnified picture of a Mont Blanc fountain pen wedged between two rocks at the burned-out site. There were identifying numbers recorded on each photo.
"You were able to conduct fingerprint a.n.a.lysis on the pen?" Reynolds asked as he stood at a podium and faced the witness.
"Yes. We managed to take several complete impressions."
"And were you able to match those fingerprints taken from the fountain pen found at Earvin Cooper's murder scene?"
"Yes. The prints perfectly matched those of the defendant, Dr. Matheson," said Marsh, looking directly at the jury.
"Was there any reason to believe the pen may have belonged to the defendant?"
"It's a very expensive pen that evidently had been specially designed and ordered as a gift to the professor from some of his students. It had his initials inscribed in gold on the cover, and a personal message engraved on the side."
"Do you recall the message?"
"*Without justice there is no honor.'"
"Thank you, Agent Marsh. I have no further questions at this time." Reynolds resumed his seat.
Tanner turned toward the defense table. "Mr. Miller?"
"Agent Marsh, you have no idea whatsoever how the fountain pen got in Mr. Cooper's barn, do you?" Miller started quickly, asking the question while in the middle of rising.
"It could have fallen from the defendant's pocket during a struggle," Marsh answered.
Miller proceeded to the podium but stood in front of it. "It could've been dropped by the horse who was lending it to the cow who wanted to write a message to one or more of the hens, but my question suggested you have no real knowledge or facts as to how the pen was left there, isn't that true?"
"I offered you one plausible scenario; I'm certain there are many others."
"We can definitely agree with that." Miller headed toward the display. "Permission to approach the witness, Your Honor."
"Granted," said Tanner.
"Agent Marsh, could you study photo number twelve of the state's exhibit, please?"
"Would you like me to step down?"
"If that would make it easier for you."
Marsh left the witness stand and moved to the side of photo 12. He studied it without blocking the jury's view.
"Would you explain to the jury why the earth underneath where the pen was discovered is completely scorched and yet the pen itself is in good enough condition to lift fingerprints?"
Reynolds immediately looked at the jury. The four black men in the group showed reactions ranging from Faraday Patterson's smirk to Faison Sheppard's noticeable scowl.
"It may have been protected as a result of it being wedged between the two rocks. Or it's possible the pen wasn't in that position or location when the ground was ablaze," speculated Marsh. "It could've been forced there by the explosion or water pressure from fire hoses or any number of other explanations."
"Including being planted-excuse me, dropped-long after the fire was extinguished?"
"That's highly unlikely."
"Can the witness resume his seat, Counselor?" asked Tanner.
"Of course," replied Miller. "Particularly if he's able to maintain the chair in as good condition as this fountain pen."
"Mr. Miller," warned the judge, "keep your personal observations to yourself. You'll have a chance at the end of the trial to make all the commentary you wish."
"Thank you, Your Honor." Miller walked toward the jury. "Agent Marsh, are you aware of whether or not anyone from your office took foot impressions at the scene of the crime?"
"My office a.s.sisted local detectives as well as forensic scientists from the state's crime lab. I believe we took a number of those impressions."
"Isn't it true that the only set of foot impressions you were unable to account for belonged to a person with a size-thirteen shoe?"
"That's correct."
"Mr. Cooper wore a size nine, so it's safe to a.s.sume you ruled him out."
"The foot impression did not belong to Mr. Cooper or any known persons who had authorized access to the barn or its surrounding area," answered the agent.
"Those footprints didn't belong to Mr. Cooper, yes or no."
"No." Marsh s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Thank you." Miller approached Matheson and stood beside him. "Do you happen to know Professor Matheson's foot size?"
"It was measured as a nine and a half or ten."
Miller puckered his lips and raised his eyes toward the ceiling in thought as he carefully made his way back to the jury box. "So, let's see, using the terminology that you agents are so fond of, a nine and a half or ten, when carefully compared to a thirteen, is not a scientific match." He turned to face Marsh. "Is that a fair characterization of the evidence?"
"I believe the sizes speak for themselves."
"So if the shoe doesn't fit, you must acqu-"
Reynolds jumped up to object. "Your Honor!"
"I didn't say it; I didn't say it." Miller placed his hands up in surrender, then placed them on the jury railing. "But I will state in my own words that if the shoe's the wrong size, then you must surmise a murderer's still on the rise." He looked at Reynolds. "Much to the state's surprise."
Sinclair attempted to stand, but Reynolds put his hand on her shoulder. He'd already decided that any objections should be saved for matters more important than Miller's antics, which he hoped might backfire.
"Mr. Miller, I've cautioned you about your running commentary. If I neglected to mention that also includes a prohibition against bad poetry, let me do so now for the record." Tanner looked at his watch and wrote a note on his ledger. "Proceed with your cross-examination."
"I have no further questions of this witness." Miller crossed to his table and smiled at Reynolds as he took his seat.
"Mr. Reynolds?"
"Nothing further, Your Honor."
"The witness is excused. Agent Marsh, you may step down," instructed the judge. "We'll take our lunch break. The jury's to follow the court's admonition regarding discussing this case. I'll see you back here at one-thirty. Perhaps by that time Mr. Miller will have devised a more suitable way to entertain us."
Tanner struck the gavel and left the bench.
CHAPTER 44.
THE AFTERNOON SESSION started on time. The state called Officer Hezekiah Macon as its second witness, to provide chain-of-custody testimony and to identify one key piece of evidence discovered at Cooper's murder scene. On his way to the stand he made brief eye contact with the professor, whose cla.s.s he'd once rudely interrupted on police business. Matheson waited until the officer finished taking the oath before giving him a friendly nod.
Macon spent the first twenty minutes discussing his training, experience, and years on the force. Reynolds asked him to list the number of awards and commendations he'd received, which caused him to speak proudly and at great length of his background and service. After the customary introduction designed to create a sense of ease between witness and jury, Reynolds proceeded with the substance of the case.
"Your Honor, permission to approach the witness."
Tanner nodded approval. "Proceed."
Reynolds carried a small transparent bag that contained a narrow black object. "I submit into evidence state exhibit eleven-A."
"So identified," uttered the judge.
Reynolds gave the bag to the witness. "Officer Macon, do you recognize the object inside that plastic bag?"
"It's the fountain pen found at the site of the murder."
"Had you ever seen this pen prior to it being discovered at Earvin Cooper's property?"
"Yes. I saw it in the possession of the defendant."
"What makes you so certain of that?"
"I attended an interview Professor Matheson had at police headquarters in late September. He used the pen to sign some paperwork. One of the detectives commented on how attractive and unique it was and asked if it was very expensive."
"How did he respond, if at all?"
"He said it was custom-made and, to his knowledge, one of a kind, but its real value was based on it bein' a gift from the first cla.s.s of students he ever taught."
Reynolds glanced over Matheson's shoulder at a row filled with students. Next to them sat the Reverend Matheson.
Macon continued. "He went on to say something about it being priceless as a result of that."
"Officer Macon, as you sit here today, are you absolutely certain the pen discovered at the scene of Earvin Cooper's murder is the same one-of-a-kind custom-made pen that belonged to the defendant, Martin Matheson?"
"I am, sir."
"No further questions, Your Honor."
"Mr. Miller, your witness," declared the judge.
Miller rapidly pursued his first question. "Officer Macon, do you know Sergeant Jill Fischer?"
"She's our desk sergeant."
"Your Honor, I'd like to introduce into evidence defense exhibit seven-B, and I ask permission to approach the witness."
"The exhibit is so marked, and you may approach." Tanner took a breath and watched Miller hand Macon a sheet of paper.
"Officer, please take a moment and review that."
Macon skimmed the paper.
Reynolds sneaked a peek at Matheson and noticed a slight smile.
"Could you tell the jury the nature and content of that paperwork?" Miller asked, as if the answer bore great significance.
"It's a lost-property form filled out by Professor Matheson and signed by Sergeant Fischer."
"What did Professor Matheson report as lost, and when and where did he lose it?"
"He indicated he left his fountain pen at our office durin' his interview."
"The same fountain pen we've been discussing in court?"
"It would seem so," the officer admitted.
"The one found in Mr. Cooper's barn the night of his murder?"
Macon hesitated, then replied, "Yes."
"And please remind the jury the date the interview occurred with the professor."
"I believe it was on or around September twenty-eighth."