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Authors: Diane Fanning

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As a bloodstain analyst, Deaver's testimony centered on his findings and interpretations at the scene and in the evidence room. His direct testimony consumed the rest of that Wednesday. On Thursday, the prosecution wheeled a wood and Plexiglas model of the complete stairwell into the courtroom. It was made to scale, with 12 inches equaling 62 inches—Kathleen's height.
Using this model and photographs from the scene, Deaver detailed every blood drop, transfer stain and cast-off to the jury. He then testified about the clothing of Michael, Kathleen and Todd Peterson.
Outside the courtroom, the Court TV staff hustled. They lost all contact with the mother ship. Soon they learned about the massive northeast blackout that spread over New York City, into Southern Canada and as far west as Ohio and Michigan. They would not regain contact with New York until late on Friday.
On Friday morning, Rudolf questioned Deaver outside the presence of the jury. Rudolf's repetitious questioning was designed to ridicule. Deaver's drawn-out answers were as dense as a textbook, as if the agent believed that if he just kept talking, the questions would fade away.
The action in the courtroom during the week of August 18 divided into two distinct sections. During the regular court day, the prosecution witnesses' testimony continued. Once the jury was dismissed, the hearing on the admissibility of the Ratliff evidence began.
Agent Deaver presented the conclusions of his blood spatter analysis to the jury on Monday. On Tuesday, David Rudolf cross-examined him. He played the videotape of Deaver's experiments to the jury, ridiculing what the SBI expert had done.
Looking at the videotape out of context, it might look more like a child playing in a mud puddle than serious experimentation. But when seen through the eyes of an experienced blood analyst, questions about the location of blood spatter were answered. Theories about how it occurred were supported or destroyed by the reenactments. Alternate possibilities that could be forwarded by the defense were considered and eliminated. Rudolf hoped the jurors would not have enough sophistication to see beyond the superficial appearance.
After an exhausting day of cross-examination, Agent
Deaver reflected on his ordeal. He videotaped every step of his experiments to be fair—so that the defense team could review and perhaps replicate the complete sequence of events. He knew they would use it to question his conclusions. He did not expect it would be used to attack his character, competence and credibility. He mourned the loss of a court system where seeking the truth was the main objective on both sides of any case.
Rudolf battered Deaver again on Wednesday. Deaver maintained a cool, professional demeanor throughout. His opinions in old cases were thrown at him like an endless barrage of spitballs—but none of his opinions were presented in proper context. To Deaver, it was as ugly and deceptive as an old-fashioned political mudslinging contest.
On Thursday, the cross-examination of Duane Deaver continued. The judge expressed impatience with the length and repetitiveness of Rudolf's questioning.
While Deaver presented the conclusions of his blood spatter analysis to the jury by day, the late afternoon was devoted to a hearing on the admissibility of the Ratliff evidence outside the presence of the jury. On the first day, Cheryl Appel-Schumacher took the stand. Her quivering chin, halting voice, and moist eyes showed a trauma that was deep, a memory that still had the ability to shatter after eighteen years—even her smiles were caressed with pain.
She testified about the lengthy process of cleaning up Liz's blood in the stairwell. Thomas Maher tried hard to get her to discredit the testimony of upcoming witness Barbara Malagnino. At the time of Liz's death, her name
had been Barbara O'Hara. In the intervening years, she had married and divorced cab driver Salvatore Malagnino and still retained his name. Cheryl insisted throughout that she had no opinion on Barbara's credibility.
The next afternoon Cheryl was on the stand again. She told of theories of murder that drifted through her circle of friends, but she did not share their suspicions. “The overriding feeling for me was sadness and confusion and doubt,” she said. Her face collapsed inward and reddened as tears spilled down her face. She choked as she finished her sentence. “Doubts about the reasons why these two beautiful girls do not have parents.”
Thomas Maher was not diverted by her display of emotion. “I don't mean to keep pushing the same question, but you said there were discussions of a lot of feelings or possibilities. Did any of those possibilities involve Michael Peterson being involved in the death of Liz Ratliff?”
“I think you have to ask somebody else.”
Judge Hudson intervened. “He's not really asking you about how you felt. I think you made it clear about how you felt.”
“That's all I want to say about it,” Cheryl told the judge.
With a smile, Hudson said, “Well, it's not always about what you
want
to say.”
“Yeah, but he's trying to make me remember things from 1985.”
I don't think he's trying to make you remember anything. He's asking you. Do you know?”
After a moment's pause, Cheryl said, “No.” And that was the last word of her testimony in the hearing.
After the jury went home the following day, Freda Black read into the record the proffered statement of Margaret Blair, Liz Ratliff's sister, about the similarities in Liz's and Kathleen's deaths that compelled her to contact the Durham police. Margaret then took the stand for a cross-examination by the defense.
The judge announced his ruling on the Ratliff matter first thing Friday morning. Thomas Maher's ruthless mocking of the thirty coincidences presented by the prosecution did not impact his decision—he sided with the state. Judge Hudson found enough similarities in the two deaths to deem the Ratliff evidence appropriate for this trial.
The prosecution began the presentation of this evidence immediately, as if they feared the judge might change his mind if they dawdled. Cheryl Appeal-Schumacher dragged her sorrow back onto the stand and recounted her previous testimony before the panel of Peterson's peers. Freda Black talked to her about the blood. “And over what period of time did you clean?”
“It seemed like we cleaned blood most of the day.” Cheryl's face shriveled into a tight ball as she fought off tears. She put her index finger to her lips and looked down as she tried to regain control. “It was a slow process.”
Her face cracked a nervous smile as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. “It was overwhelming to my senses many times during the day. When I actually thought of
what I was doing, then I couldn't manage. It took a while because I was slow at it.” Cheryl's face contorted in pain. “But there was a lot of blood.”
“Did you clean it all up?”
“The purpose of cleaning the blood was so that the baby girls would not see this, this place. And it would not be a part of their memory. I wanted the place to be clean so they couldn't see it.”
Under cross-examination, Cheryl told the jurors about the two-hour telephone call she and her husband had with Michael's detective in December of 2002. She discussed the face-to-face interview she had with that detective and a German detective at Patty Peterson's home in Gräfenhausen in May of 2003.
Judge Hudson interrupted her testimony to clarify to the jury that the men were not detectives—they were private investigators.
“If they hadn't contacted me, I wouldn't have contacted the prosecution and we wouldn't be here today,” she said.
Tom Appel-Schumacher, Cheryl's husband, was the next on the stand. He confirmed his wife's statements. After he stepped down, the current owner of the home where Liz died slipped into the box. She introduced the statement from Liz's neighbor about seeing Michael Peterson flee from Liz's house. She also brought an excuse from the neighbor's doctor that stated her recent surgery made her unable to travel.
The original statement was written in German. The defense demanded an interpretation by a court-certified interpreter. This was an expensive and time-consuming demand for the prosecution—the nearest person with
certification in German was in Virginia. The defense rejected the state's compromise offer of a Duke University German professor as translator. The judge ruled that the statement would be admissible if a translation agreeable to both sides was provided. Next week, the prosecution announced their decision not to pursue the matter.
The state called Dr. Larry Barnes, the clinical pathologist who performed Liz Ratliff's original autopsy, on Monday morning. They used him to establish that he was not trained in forensics and that the review done by the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology (AFIP) was only cursory.
The goal of the cross-examination by the defense was to reinforce the credibility of this doctor's original autopsy conclusions and to elevate the perception of competence of AFIP. Barnes did not give the defense much help.
On re-direct, Hardin asked him, “The new autopsy indicates death caused by blunt trauma. Do you dispute the conclusion of the medical examiner?”
“It is at significant odds with what I thought at the time. But, no, I don't dispute it.”
“Can you say that the external bleeding was spontaneous vessel rupture or blunt trauma of a fall down the steps?”
After an objection by the defense and a sidebar, Dr. Barnes answered, “No. I cannot say ‘spontaneous.' I can't definitely say it was caused by a blow to the head. No, I can't say it was caused by a fall down the steps.”
[ …] “If you had been told that there was suspicion about the cause of death other than as an accidental or
natural cause, would you have handled it in the manner that you did?”
“Definitely not.”
“What would you have done?”
“I would have appealed to higher command that this be taken from our section and given to someone more qualified to do it.”
“More qualified? In what way?”
“With forensic training.”
Margaret Blair was the next witness to face the jury. When Freda Black presented Elizabeth Ratliff's will to her, she said, “I recognize the will—the only thing I don't recognize here is my sister's handwriting. But the will, yeah.”
“Do you know your sister's handwriting?”
“Well, my sister was left-handed like I am, and she always wrote with a backwards slant, and that's a cursive with a total right-handed slant, so I've never seen—I've never seen her write like that.”
After the trial, Margaret compared the signature on Liz's will to a letter written to her by Michael Peterson. The similarities she found sickened her. The letters were squished together in an unattractive way so unlike the artistic nature of Liz, and it appeared to be missing an “e” and an “a” in “Elizabeth.” To her eyes, the loop on the “R” in “Ratliff” looked the same as Michael Peterson's loop on the “k” in “talk.” The little curls in the “a‘s” and the shaping of the “f's,” “l's” and “t's” were identical in the signature and in Michael's letter. Margaret was convinced and expressed her suspicions to the Durham District Attorney's office. In her eyes, the document filed in Matagorda County, Texas, in 1985 was a forgery.
Arguing that contact between the lay witnesses for the prosecution may have altered their testimony, Rudolf requested the opportunity to question Barbara Malagnino and Amybeth Berner out of the presence of the jury. He based his objection on the heavy email correspondence between those two witnesses and the viewing of the Peterson home video at the district attorney's office, but reserved the bulk of his outrage for the dinner party over the weekend attended by out-of-town witnesses and arranged by Assistant District Attorney Freda Black.
David Rudolf implied nefarious intent on the part of Ms. Black. The Northern media outlets and the defense attorney guests sitting in a studio in New York echoed Rudolf's sentiments. They just didn't get it. For folks south of the Mason-Dixon Line, the intent was clear. It was nothing more than old-fashioned Southern hospitality at its finest. It was darn near required to welcome strangers to North Carolina with a good meal. Freda Black had even brought along her two children to ensure that conversation did not drift to the discussion of murder.
The judge had Southern sensibilities, too. At the end of the testimony by Barbara and Amybeth, and the arguments by counsel, he ruled that no violation of ethics or law occurred.
The prosecution called to the stand Steven Lyons, a special agent for U.S. Army Command at the time of Liz's death. He reported that he saw no significant blood, but admitted that he interviewed no one, took no photographs and did not examine the body.
After Lyons was excused, Barbara Malagnino took the jurors on a journey to that distant, dreadful morning she arrived at Liz Ratliff's home. She entered the house with trepidation—uncomfortable because of the atypical lighting. She saw a body and her mind fled into the shadows of denial. She was forced to accept reality when she looked into Liz's face. She also testified about all the blood on the stairway.
Amybeth Berner followed, relating her memories of her friend's demise. She told the jury that she was suspicious from the start that the official cause of death was not correct. At first, she told them, she did not suspect Michael Peterson. As time went by, however, her doubts about that night frequently turned to him. There was his talk about his CIA connections and all the death and rape that oozed from the pages of his book,
The Immortal Dragon
.
Then she spoke of blood—massive quantities of blood—spattered high and low, far and wide. Tears filled her eyes as she ran the memory of that vision through her head, but she soldiered on.
The next witness to face the jury was Dr. Aaron Gleckman, a neuro-pathologist involved in the second
autopsy of Elizabeth Ratliff. He pointed out that the cuts to the brain tissue in the original autopsy were not at all conventional. Although some of the brain tissue was missing, he was amazed that after seventeen and a half years, the remaining tissue was remarkably well preserved.
He read his conclusion from his report that Liz Ratliff had died from blunt force trauma to her head. That trauma, he testified, was the result of a beating.
On cross-examination, Rudolf tried to make Dr. Barnes appear as a superior authority on the death of Liz Ratliff, but Gleckman was non-plussed.
“Based on what you were able to see in 2003, you cannot rule out the possibility that Elizabeth Ratliff had a vascular malformation that burst in 1985, correct?”
“I can't rule it out,” Gleckman agreed, “but it wasn't the cause of her death.”
Next, Dr. Thomas Bouldin, neuropathologist, testified about his role in the neurological examination of Kathleen Peterson. He was the doctor who made multiple sections of the brain to search for abnormalities and discovered the presence of red neurons. In brief, he told the jury that injuries to Kathleen's brain were consistent with head trauma. The red neurons proved that she lay on the stairs for hours before she died.
Two days earlier, Candace Zamperini was in the witness box for
voir dire
examination before the judge. On September 3, she repeated her ordeal in front of the jury. During cross-examination, it was clear that there was no love lost between her and David Rudolf.
Rudolf attempted to destroy her credibility by pointing out inconsistencies in some of her previous
statements. Many on the jury, however, were not buying it. With every jab he threw, their empathy for Candace grew.
Rudolf handed Candace photographs of the stairwell stained with Kathleen's blood. Under direct testimony, she had marked the places where she had cleaned.
“Just so we're clear, can you initial next to the areas you said you cleaned up, what you say you did in terms of the area you cleaned up?” Rudolf asked.
Candace's face contorted in anguish as she looked at the pictures. Her head bobbed from side to side as if her mind were rebelling against her vision.
When Rudolf pushed her for specifics, Candace interrupted. “Do you want me to go before the jury and show this?” The pitch of Candace's voice was rising as her level of stress increased. She now sounded more like a distressed child than a grown woman. Hearts broke for her all over the courtroom.
“Well,” Rudolf said, “what I would like you to do is write on here, if you could, the areas that you feel like, as best as you can recall right now, that you cleaned up and then we'll try to identify it for the record.”
As he spoke, Candace's ragged breath echoed like a background bass beat through the crowd of riveted spectators.
“I realize this is hard on you,” Rudolf said, “and I apologize, but you've indicated that you were spraying on the step area there were you put ‘X's' now.”
Candace, her forehead resting on her hand, answered, “Yes.” She struggled to answer questions on the locations of her cleaning, but her emotional stamina was disintegrating with every response.
“Are you okay?” Rudolf asked as Candace blotted away tears.
A deep sigh blew through the silent, transfixed audience. “It's her blood! It's just unnerved me.”
“Maybe we should take a brief recess, Your Honor,” Rudolf said.
As the judge dismissed the jury for a five-minute break, Candace collapsed forward on the stand.
To many present, it seemed as if Rudolf had crossed that delicate line. Any doubt he raised in his earlier questioning was now washed downstream on a river of empathy for Candace Zamperini.
Candace's testimony reverberated far outside of the courtroom. In California, Michael's sister, Ann, discarded her denial and tossed aside the Peterson public persona of a family united. She had told
Herald-Sun
columnist Tom Gasparoli a few months earlier, “I don't think anyone could easily believe one's brother could be a murderer. It's just something you don't fathom.” After the last few days of testimony, her perspective had changed. “I'm not keeping it a secret that I think he killed both Kathleen and Liz.”
Ann also called Patty Peterson. “Don't you get it, Patty? He killed your friend.”
“I know his character,” Patty said, “and I know he didn't.”
“What about all the blood on Kathleen? What about all the blood on Liz? Can't you see she was beaten to death?”
“No. It's not true.”
The prosecution followed Candace's emotional and moving testimony with cold, hard facts. Dr. Deborah Radisch of the medical examiner's office was now in the hot seat. Certified in anatomic, chemical and forensic pathology, she had performed more than 3,200 autopsies—most of them forensic.
On direct examination, Hardin walked her through indepth descriptions of every abrasion, contusion and laceration on Kathleen's head.
When he handed her the blowpoke and asked if the injuries to the scalp were consistent with injuries caused by a similar fireplace tool, Radisch agreed. “It's not solid—it has weight to it, but it is not solid. Since there are no skull fractures, a hollow metal object like this could cause severe laceration without fracture.”
“Are they collectively consistent with a fall down stairs?” Hardin asked.
“No.”
“With respect to these injuries cumulatively?”
“In my opinion, the injuries were the result of being struck by an object or against an object.” She added that some of the injuries may have been caused by striking the stairs or being struck against the stairs by force.
She then testified about the fracture and bleeding of a small piece of cartilage in Kathleen's neck—an injury that is present with attempted strangulation. She also pointed out the many defensive wounds on Kathleen's hands and arms.
Hardin shifted the questioning to the autopsy of Elizabeth Ratliff. Dr. Radisch's conclusions were
succinct: “In my opinion, the cause of death of Ms. Ratliff is blunt trauma to the head. In my opinion, the manner of death in Ms. Ratliff's case was homicide.”
On cross-examination, David Rudolf started off on the wrong foot. “Ms. Radisch,” he said.
“Doctor
Radisch,” she responded.
That afternoon, Rudolf badgered Radisch without making much headway. She admitted that she made mistakes in her life, but conceded nothing else.
In the next day's questioning, though, Rudolf sought payback. He brought two enormous white three-ring binders containing records from 1991 through 2003, and set them on the rail of the witness stand. “Obviously you're not going to be able to read these all, but I want you to just tell me if they appear to you to be, just by looking at them, a collection of all the autopsies involving blunt trauma to the head for this time period?”
She lifted up the cover of one book and flipped pages. She shook her head. She pulled one book toward her with a rueful grin at the jury.
“Objection, Judge, grounds of relevancy,” Hardin interrupted.
Radisch gave the judge a pleading look.
Rudolf said, “I think she can look …”
Judge Hudson responded, “He asked her to look at them. I think she can respond however she wishes.”
Radisch flipped a notebook open. She sighed. She looked at the jurors and grinned again. “I don't really think I can give you an accurate answer to your question,” she said with a laugh.
“All right,” said Rudolf.
“Not today.”
“Well …” before Rudolf could complete that sentence, the courtroom's decorum dissolved in a tidal wave of laughter. David Rudolf had met his match.
Radisch expected a tough cross-examination. After all, she had consulted with David Rudolf when she wanted pointers on testifying years ago in her early days as a witness. What she did not expect was what went on outside of the courtroom. It seemed Peterson's friends spread unfounded rumors and insinuations that attacked her professional credibility.
On Friday, September 5, after fifty-one witnesses, the prosecution rested. The defense made the perfunctory motion to dismiss. As usual, that motion was denied. Rudolf responded, “We don't know if we'll put on evidence. We'll know on Monday.”
No one doubted that he would. The only question was who?

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