The Fifth Witness - Michael Connelly [132]
“I have not, no.”
“Are you aware of any such studies of this question in general?”
“There are studies in the area. The conclusions are very broad. I happen to think each case is unique. You can’t go by general studies.”
“Isn’t it widely held that the threshold measurement of pressure needed to create a depression fracture is one thousand pounds of pressure per square inch?”
Freeman stood and objected. She said that I was asking questions outside the scope of Dr. Gutierrez’s expertise as a witness.
“Mr. Haller himself was quick to point out in his cross-examination that the witness’s expertise is in diseases of the GI tract, not bone elasticity and depression.”
It was a no-win situation for her and she had chosen the lesser of two evils: burning her witness or allowing me to continue to ask him questions that he didn’t know the answers to.
“Sustained,” the judge said. “Let’s move on, Mr. Haller. Ask your next question.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
I flipped a few pages on my pad and acted like I was reading. It would buy me a few moments while I considered the next move. I then turned and looked at the clock on the back wall of the courtroom. It was fifteen minutes till lunch. If I wanted to send the jury out with a final bit of food for thought, I needed to act now.
“Doctor,” I said. “Did you record the height of the victim?”
Gutierrez checked his notes.
“Mr. Bondurant was six feet, one inch tall at the time of his death.”
“So this area at the crown of the head would be six feet and one inch high. Is that fair to say, Doctor?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Actually, with Mr. Bondurant wearing shoes he would have been even taller, correct?”
“Yes, maybe an inch and a half to account for the heels.”
“Okay, so knowing the victim’s height and knowing that the fatal wound came in flush on the top of his head, what does that tell us about the angle of attack?”
“I am not sure what you mean by angle of attack.”
“Are you sure about that, Doctor? I am talking about the angle the hammer was at in relation to the impact area.”
“But this would be impossible to know because we don’t know the posture of the victim or whether he was ducking from the blow or what the exact situation was when he was struck.”
Gutierrez ended his answer with a nod, as though proud of the way he had handled the challenge.
“But Doctor, didn’t you testify during direct examination from Ms. Freeman that it appeared to you, at least, that Mr. Bondurant was struck from behind in a surprise attack?”
“I did.”
“Doesn’t that contradict what you just said about ducking from the blow? Which is it, Doctor?”
Feeling cornered, Gutierrez reacted in the way most cornered men do. With arrogance.
“My testimony is that we do not know exactly what happened in that garage or what posture the victim was in or what the orientation of his skull was when he was struck with the fatal blow. To be minutely guessing and second-guessing at this point is a fool’s errand.”
“You are saying it is foolish to attempt to understand what happened in the garage?”
“No! I am not saying that at all. You are taking the words and twisting them.”
Freeman had to do something. She stood and objected and said I was badgering the witness. I wasn’t and the judge said as much, but the little interruption was enough for Gutierrez to collect himself and resume his calm and superior demeanor. I decided to wrap things up. I had largely been using Dr. Guts as a setup man for my own expert, who would testify during the defense phase. I believed I was almost there.
“Doctor, would you agree that if we could determine the victim’s posture and the orientation of his skull at the time of that first, fatal blow, then we would have insight as to the angle at which the murder weapon was held?”
Gutierrez considered the question for longer than it had taken me to ask it, then reluctantly nodded.
“Yes, it would give us some insight. But it is imposs—”
“Thank you, Doctor. My next question is if we knew all of these things—the posture, the orientation, the angle of the weapon—wouldn