Free Fatal Distraction by Diane Capri Page B

she said. She studied the layout of the cards.
    So Arnold lied. But about what? Jess remembered the protesters’ chanting this afternoon. “ DNA. DNA. DNA .” She tried another tack. “Something physical? A piece of trace? Is that what it was?”
    Again, Vivian didn’t respond, leaving Jess to work it out for herself. She thought back to the physical evidence presented at the trial.
    Unlike Taylor’s other victims, Matthew Crawford, Jr. hadn’t been sexually molested or tortured. His body was found lying on his back, as if he’d been sleeping peacefully in Taylor’s trunk. The medical examiner testified that Mattie died of strangulation. Pictures and charts depicted bruises around his throat consistent with Taylor’s grasp.
    Mattie’s cotton Superman pajamas and underwear were admitted into evidence, although they proved nothing except his youth and innocence. Taylor’s blue jeans, red t-shirt, sneakers, white boxers and socks were admitted, too.
    There were only three other items Jess could remember: two hairs without the roots attached that had been found on Mattie’s pajamas. And under the boy’s body—she glanced at the overflowing ashtray next to Vivian’s chair—a cigarette butt matching the brand that Taylor smoked.
    But none of these contained any usable DNA evidence that linked either Taylor or anyone else to the crime. In addition, upon successful objection by the defense attorney, the hairs had been excluded from evidence. The cigarette butt proved nothing except to corroborate Arnold’s eye witness account. After all, the car belonged to Taylor and finding one of his cigarette butts in the trunk was hardly incriminating. Besides, Taylor’s lawyers were able to keep the butt from the jury, too.
    Since these items had not been admitted into evidence, they would not have become a part of the court’s files. They were most likely were returned to the police and from there, probably destroyed.
    While writing her article, Jess had gone over all of it in her head, in her notes, including the last time she’d interviewed Arnold and the prosecutors. She could think of no other possibilities.
    Governor Sullivan claimed there was no new evidence, and she would have used any legitimate excuse to stay Taylor’s execution. If there had been new evidence, Helen would have been all over it. Whatever else Helen Sullivan was, the woman’s reputation as a truth-teller was absolute. Jess believed her without reservation.
    So what the hell was Vivian talking about?
    â€œDo you mean the hairs? The cigarette butt? But those items didn’t prove anything. And anyway, they were lost years ago.” Vivian narrowed her eyes against the trailing smoke and threw the cards onto the table again when she’d lost yet another game.
    How many nights had she spent like this? Playing solitaire, smoking, ruminating on her life’s tragedies? Maybe Vivian really was insane after all. The thought that she might be sitting across from true madness gave Jess gooseflesh. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms to warm them.
    Vivian’s eyes narrowed further and her gaze bored into Jess’s. “That so? Lost? You sure?”
    â€œYes,” Jess responded. “I’m sure. I’ve run this down. But even if the hairs and the cigarette butt were found today, the DNA they contain, assuming it could be analyzed, wouldn’t prove Taylor innocent. Maybe he’d get a new trial, a reprieve, but he’d be convicted again. All of the other evidence is way too strong.”
    Jess heard her own urgency and understood why she felt she needed to be right about this. She wasn’t Taylor’s lawyer. She wasn’t on Manson’s side. Taylor’d had many competent crusaders over the years and none had been able to save him. Nor did Jess think he should be saved.
    But if Taylor hadn’t actually killed Mattie Crawford,