Violence (17 page)

However, she indicated that “no saliva of any of the defendants was found in the decedent’s mouth.” The inference and conclusion that could be drawn from this was that no kissing appeared to be involved before, during or after the sexual acts.

As far as Tristan’s autopsy results were concerned, Dr. Azzam presented one glaring anomaly at odds with the defense version of events.

Yes, it was a blunt force trauma that caused a “deep laceration of the scalp” and a “subarachnoid hemorrhage” (which is bleeding into the area surrounding the brain), but there was no skull fracture.

Yes, a review of the evidence indicated to her that the “pediatric decedent appeared to be backing away” and an “unforeseen collision with the 3-inch cross arm on the cast iron lamp post” did appear to “produce a loss of consciousness that resulted in a fall to the cement pool deck and another laceration to the area above her right eye” along with “a right cheek and shoulder abrasion,” but the comatose state should have been brief and “a mild-traumatic brain injury, by itself, has a nearly zero mortality rate, especially in someone so young.”

Yes, she could have awakened after several seconds or even several minutes, and dizzily tried to get up and stumbled into the pool where she subsequently drowned, but “it didn’t appear to be the case here.”

No, “It didn’t seem tenable…” Dr. Azzam asserted. “…after reviewing numerous photographs and Dr. Schauspieler’s blood spatter interpretation, that she would have
rolled
the six plus feet from the light post to the edge of the pool at which point she encountered the additional raised edge of a limestone bullnose border and continued rolling on into the water.”

What Dr. Azzam also chillingly explained was that “there was some pooling” of Tristan’s blood on the back deck from the lacerations indicating she was likely laying there for several moments unconscious. However, instead of there being the irregular, low-velocity passive blood splatter of someone eventually rising and staggering as they came to, there was “a cast-off alternating pattern that matched the head lacerations that continued in a swiping rather than a dripping style in a straight-line direction towards the water that suggested the pediatric decedent rolled or was rolled into the pool.”

Mr. Guishet made sure the jury understood this by using diagrams. He had Dr. Azzam act out how someone coming out of an unconscious state would usually try to rise to their feet, stumble a bit, attempt to get their bearings and then indicated how the blood spatter would be deviating, not linear as it was here.

The jury was tired but this testimony, if true, was so disturbing that it did keep them engaged until the very end of what had been a long day.

Derek was the cat that ate the canary through all this, expressionless. He merely stared into a void only the evil know and the good cannot fathom.

Al Ward and Anderson sat across from each other at a table outside a taqueria stand. Again, Anderson let Ward take the time to get some food in his stomach. Ward downed several flautas and two large limonadas before he gave Anderson the long recap.

Ward told him about the “irregularities” that seemed to bolster the State’s case, though he knew on defense cross-examination even the obvious gets clouded, if not eliminated, by procedure and lawyering. It was when he told Anderson about the Tristan death evidence testimony that Ward detected movement in Anderson’s heretofore intense but impassive demeanor. It was the flick of Anderson’s gaze that stopped just short of locking on Ward’s stare. It might have given Ward a hint of how Anderson was feeling. But it was gone as fast as it flared.

Anderson, as far as feelings go, learned from an early age to go by his initial gut reaction whenever he encountered someone or something. This was true regardless of whether he had met the person before, had experienced a similar situation prior to that moment, or if he were meeting someone or having an experience for the first time. Anderson was always struck foremost by essence or atmosphere. He either felt darkness or light. Right now, Anderson could tell instantly that gloom emitted from Ward’s every pore, more so each day the trial had progressed. Anderson wished he had a different interpretation.

Ward finally asked if Anderson had any questions.

Anderson didn’t.

Ward told him what to expect for the next day and to be ready to possibly testify.

Anderson nodded. He had already called the witness service line on the subpoena, and was prepared.

They shook hands under the still blazing sun and trudged back to their respective cars parked curbside in a shining sea of shattered tempered safety glass. The radiating mini-cubes of glass, the result of some side window smash and grabs to previous unwitting car owners, crunched under their steps.

Anderson noticed a used condom and a discarded syringe in the sparkling debris. He wondered how often Streets and Sanitation had a sweeper come by here. How many kids, or adults for that matter, would accidentally come in contact with this toxic waste and hazard? He didn’t think about it long. It wasn’t his problem. It was somebody else’s. He had his own problems to focus on.

Ward drove away to wherever it was he went.

Anderson returned to his personal hell.

* * *

         D
ay 3 would prove to produce the most fireworks. It didn’t start that way. There were a lot of “good mornings” tossed about. Seems everyone’s inner clock sensed that the bump had been traversed and it was clear sailing from here. The finish line was in sight.

The defense was ready to cross-examine Dr. Azzam. They sent Roney’s counsel, Nicholas Leesom, a 54-year-old attorney with a handlebar moustache who had spent nearly his entire career in the Cook County Public Defender’s Office to question the diminutive but forceful medical examiner.

It was important to both sides to send out as many people as you could because it looks to the jury like you are building a broad-based consensus opinion. Also, don’t get too hung up on one personality.

Leesom had little trial experience even though he had more than twenty years of service. He was still a Grade 4 attorney in the PD Office, commanding the highest pay scale, even though “merit” time in front of a jury was supposed to play a large part in reaching that level, along with seniority. It was just that he loved plea deals. They were easier and it helped him reconcile the fact that even though each defendant deserved a vigorous defense he privately doubted he had ever had an innocent client.

As for the details of his personal path, Leesom didn’t enter law school until his late-twenties as he came out of college with a history degree and not much direction. After passing the bar on his third try, he bounced around doing piecework for the in-house legal departments of various corporations. He still remembered how he had to slog endlessly through the downtown office towers dropping off a summary of his non-existent work history and having to submit to fruitless interviews until a friend with a “connection” got him the gig at the PD’s Office.

Nowadays those immense buildings that populate every city center, especially Chicago, still soared to the sky but every lobby directory bore the multitudinous listings of government entities, law firms, and the companies that supported them such as court reporting outfits, security contractors and temporary staffing agencies. Private industry had steadily gotten hip-checked out of the picture and Leesom gleefully watched its demise as he rode the lucrative boom in public service employee compensation that politicians showered on civil servants in exchange for votes which occurred all throughout his early career and well into the new millennium. It was a symbiotic relationship that still held sway but he had his finger to the wind now, ready at a moment’s notice to put in for retirement if the deal looked like it was going to change.

Dr. Azzam took the stand and Leesom tried to immediately put her on the defensive.

“Dr. Azzam, you are paid by the State to come here and testify, are you not?” Leesom darkly intoned.

Azzam was surprised by the aggressiveness of his manner. Leesom had obviously caught Calcote’s fervor but it was a specious query. All of them were remunerated by the taxpayers, from the prosecutors, medical examiners and forensic experts to the public defenders. They were all members of the same umbrella union. So the question was disingenuous and usually came from private attorneys. Maybe it was a rivalry thing, members of one local always thought the other locals had the most luxurious contract and cushy job. Or maybe it was because public defenders had to defend a lot of slimy characters and she was part of what he and others in his office had to consider the do-gooders. In any event, Azzam could take care of herself and ultimately didn’t take umbrage at his approach.

“I am paid in the manner and in the amount prescribed by law.” Azzam answered, which at more than $200 an hour was roughly the amount all the expert witnesses received.

“It simply requires a yes or no answer.” Leesom demanded.

“Yes.” Azzam tersely replied.

“And you are considered to be part of the prosecution team, are you not?” Leesom asked, intimating a dark and cozy collusive relationship.

“No.” Dr. Azzam flatly denied his assertion.

“’
No
’?” Leesom bellowed with a bit of baritone bravura. “Don’t you want to produce results that will please the prosecutors and the police?”

“No, sir.” Dr. Azzam didn’t take the bait, and calmly replied. “I always provide only my unbiased, objective opinion.”

“But your objectivity can be called into question?” Leesom stated this more like an accusation.

“Asked and answered, your honor.” Ms. Henklin had to intervene, though Leesom had already accomplished his job of putting suspicion in the air.

“Sustained.” Judge Marr ruled.

“Why would you say the deaths of Tristan and Karen Anderson were homicides rather than an accident and a suicide?” Leesom challenged.

“Because it was obvious there was the involvement of another person in both deaths.” Dr. Azzam stated unemotionally. “That the deaths were caused by the actions of another human being.”

“But it’s really just your opinion.” Leesom stressed.

“My expert opinion.” Dr. Azzam countered.

“
Paid
expert opinion.” Leesom sneered, but quickly struck the comment himself before Henklin could object. “I withdraw that, sorry.”

Judge Marr gave Leesom a reproachful gaze.

Leesom kept things in high gear, asking Dr. Azzam, “Do you ever get things wrong, Dr. Azzam?”

“Wrong?”

“Have you ever changed a death certification, such as from homicide to accidental?”

“If additional evidence is presented that causes that change, but it happens rarely, less than one percent of the time.”

“But you have done it, made mistakes?”

“I have changed findings, if warranted.” Dr. Azzam answered peevishly.

It was obvious Leesom was trying to show Calcote that he could stand up in a courtroom, too. When it was realized this case was going to trial, Calcote wanted to lead and Leesom gladly let him have the reins so now Leesom was trying to make it appear a joint effort. Leesom had done some homework, queried some colleagues for advice and wanted to impress. He didn’t want the kid to look like the lone champion of the downtrodden.

“So you don’t
believe
it was an accident that caused the daughter’s death?” Leesom continued.

“I believe that if fear or actual flight from a threat were not present…” Dr. Azzam plainly stated. “…she would not have hit her head.”

“And you don’t believe Mrs. Anderson’s death could be a suicide?” Leesom inquired.

“Considering there were no financial, emotional or health problems that existed.” Dr. Azzam responded. “No, I do not.”

“That you know of.” Leesom interjected.

“That I know of.” Dr. Azzam qualified her last statement. “And seeing how there were signs of a struggle, defensive bruising, I am confident in my opinion of Mrs. Anderson’s death being a homicide.”

“Can’t someone make an instant decision to kill themselves…” Leesom put forward. “…seeing the horrible results of what was their free choice to engage in sexual relations? That when Mrs. Anderson saw that she quite possibly caused, however indirect, her own daughter’s death, she just couldn’t live with herself?”

“I am not a psychologist…” Dr. Azzam stated and steadfastly maintained her position. “…but in my experience, it’s not normal.”

“But it’s possible?”

“I guess you could say it’s ‘possible.’”

“’Possible.’” Leesom repeated, luxuriating in the victory of her admission. “Since we’re on the subject of possibilities. You testified yesterday that you considered the evidence of diffuse vaginal edema, and other bruising to be indicative of sexual assault.”

“Correct.”

“But isn’t it also true that this could have resulted from rough consensual sex?”

“Yes, it is possible.”

“Even from rough masturbating?”

“Yes, but in my opinion it is very unlikely.”

“Could someone else have a different opinion?”

“Anyone could have another opinion.”

The prosecution did not like the way this was going but they were careful to not show their displeasure.

Leesom retrieved a report from the defense table and folded back some pages. He stepped back in front of Dr. Azzam.

“Now, regarding the serology results…” Leesom continued. “…besides the two defendants, Mr. Derek Lysander and Mr. Gabriel Lysander, there was no other semen or DNA detected in Mrs. Anderson’s vagina?”

“That is correct.” Dr. Azzam answered.

The prosecution team knew where Leesom was headed with this line of questioning and Henklin was livid.

“How long can semen be detected in a woman’s vagina?” Leesom asked Azzam pointedly.

“Several days.”

“My understanding is 3 to 7 days.”

“Usually no more than 5 days.”

“But it could last a week?”

“Depending on the cervical mucus and acidity of the vagina.”

“As is customary…” Leesom thumbed through the report. “…an elimination standard from a consensual partner was submitted. In this instance it was Mr. Noel Anderson who submitted a DNA sample-”