Free Presumed Guilty by James Scott Bell Page B
Authors: James Scott Bell
strong. I have to tell you
something.”
Strong? She felt like warm Jell-O. “What is it?”
“The next witness is the deputy coroner, the one who performed
the autopsy.”
“And? ”
“Freton just gave me a copy of his report.”
“What does it say?”
“Dallas, I will always be up front with you.”
“Please talk to me.”
“They found seminal fluid in Melinda Perry.”
The walls of the courthouse began to close in on Dallas, even
before he said what she knew he’d say.
“They did a DNA analysis. It’s a match with Ron.”
Fireworks behind her eyes, a momentary blindness to everything around her.
“Dallas — ”
“No.” She put her hand up. “Just let me alone.”
She turned and walked the other way, down the corridor, a long
dark tunnel now. Even with the lights, the people, the elevators, the sounds — even with all that, she was alone in a blackness that went on and on.
Thought smashed against thought. She was unaware of what she was doing. She knew she was walking, then entering the restroom. There may have been another woman in there, she wasn’t sure. She saw only the first stall with its door open, and that is where she fell to her knees and retched.
5.
“Mom, what on earth?” Cara took Dallas by the shoulders and sat her down on the plastic bench in the coffee shop.
“I’m sick.”
“Let’s get you home.”
“No. I’m staying. Your father . . .” How to break this to her daughter? How to soften the blow?
“What about Dad?”
“Cara, they have evidence, that your dad and the girl . . .”
“Not sex.”
Dallas nodded.
“Oh, Mom, no.”
Dallas was still nauseated and took a long breath. “Jeff’s not finished. We don’t know everything.”
“Let me take you home.”
“I’m staying.”
“Then I am too.”
Dallas held Cara’s hand during the entire testimony of Dr. Edward Varaki. The deputy DA put him through a clinical, stepby-step recitation of the autopsy. Asphyxiation. Suffocation. Lack of oxygen to brain. Evidence of sexual intercourse.
And the DNA match with Ron.
She could sense the reporters working overtime, scribbling notes or clacking on tiny keyboards. They had the good stuff now, the guarantor of ratings and circulation. It used to be about the news that’s fit to print , Dallas thought. Now it’s all the sex that fits, we print.
She had been betrayed.
Jeff cross-examined. “Dr. Varaki, the evidence of sexual intercourse and the cause of death have nothing to do with each other, do they?”
“I offer no opinion on that.”
“It’s entirely possible to have sexual intercourse with someone and not kill them, isn’t it?”
“Objection,” Freton said.
Jeff nodded and said, “No more questions.”
Freton had one more witness, a sheriff’s detective named Powell Dennison. He was paunchy and graying. His hairstyle was a buzz cut, like the cops in TV shows of the sixties.
“You questioned the defendant on the morning of March 18, is that correct?” Freton asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you record that interview?”
“I did.”
“And do you have the written report in front of you?”
“Yes.”
“Referring to your report, Detective, can you tell the court if Mr. Hamilton was advised of his Miranda rights?”
“He was.”
“Did he request a lawyer?”
“No. He said he would like to answer questions, to clear this all up.”
“Did he sign a waiver?”
“He did.”
“Did you ask if Mr. Hamilton knew the deceased, Melinda Perry, also known as Melinda Chance?”
“He said that he did know her. Said he had been counseling her at his church on occasion.”
“Referring to your report, at page eight , will you please read into the record lines six through sixteen?”
“Sure.” Dennison flipped a couple of pages and began to read. “ ‘QUESTION: When was the last time you saw Miss Perry?
“ ‘ANSWER: Oh, I’m trying to think. It was probably last Thursday or Friday.
“ ‘QUESTION: That would be the tenth or the eleventh?
“ ‘ANSWER: Yeah, I
something.”
Strong? She felt like warm Jell-O. “What is it?”
“The next witness is the deputy coroner, the one who performed
the autopsy.”
“And? ”
“Freton just gave me a copy of his report.”
“What does it say?”
“Dallas, I will always be up front with you.”
“Please talk to me.”
“They found seminal fluid in Melinda Perry.”
The walls of the courthouse began to close in on Dallas, even
before he said what she knew he’d say.
“They did a DNA analysis. It’s a match with Ron.”
Fireworks behind her eyes, a momentary blindness to everything around her.
“Dallas — ”
“No.” She put her hand up. “Just let me alone.”
She turned and walked the other way, down the corridor, a long
dark tunnel now. Even with the lights, the people, the elevators, the sounds — even with all that, she was alone in a blackness that went on and on.
Thought smashed against thought. She was unaware of what she was doing. She knew she was walking, then entering the restroom. There may have been another woman in there, she wasn’t sure. She saw only the first stall with its door open, and that is where she fell to her knees and retched.
5.
“Mom, what on earth?” Cara took Dallas by the shoulders and sat her down on the plastic bench in the coffee shop.
“I’m sick.”
“Let’s get you home.”
“No. I’m staying. Your father . . .” How to break this to her daughter? How to soften the blow?
“What about Dad?”
“Cara, they have evidence, that your dad and the girl . . .”
“Not sex.”
Dallas nodded.
“Oh, Mom, no.”
Dallas was still nauseated and took a long breath. “Jeff’s not finished. We don’t know everything.”
“Let me take you home.”
“I’m staying.”
“Then I am too.”
Dallas held Cara’s hand during the entire testimony of Dr. Edward Varaki. The deputy DA put him through a clinical, stepby-step recitation of the autopsy. Asphyxiation. Suffocation. Lack of oxygen to brain. Evidence of sexual intercourse.
And the DNA match with Ron.
She could sense the reporters working overtime, scribbling notes or clacking on tiny keyboards. They had the good stuff now, the guarantor of ratings and circulation. It used to be about the news that’s fit to print , Dallas thought. Now it’s all the sex that fits, we print.
She had been betrayed.
Jeff cross-examined. “Dr. Varaki, the evidence of sexual intercourse and the cause of death have nothing to do with each other, do they?”
“I offer no opinion on that.”
“It’s entirely possible to have sexual intercourse with someone and not kill them, isn’t it?”
“Objection,” Freton said.
Jeff nodded and said, “No more questions.”
Freton had one more witness, a sheriff’s detective named Powell Dennison. He was paunchy and graying. His hairstyle was a buzz cut, like the cops in TV shows of the sixties.
“You questioned the defendant on the morning of March 18, is that correct?” Freton asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you record that interview?”
“I did.”
“And do you have the written report in front of you?”
“Yes.”
“Referring to your report, Detective, can you tell the court if Mr. Hamilton was advised of his Miranda rights?”
“He was.”
“Did he request a lawyer?”
“No. He said he would like to answer questions, to clear this all up.”
“Did he sign a waiver?”
“He did.”
“Did you ask if Mr. Hamilton knew the deceased, Melinda Perry, also known as Melinda Chance?”
“He said that he did know her. Said he had been counseling her at his church on occasion.”
“Referring to your report, at page eight , will you please read into the record lines six through sixteen?”
“Sure.” Dennison flipped a couple of pages and began to read. “ ‘QUESTION: When was the last time you saw Miss Perry?
“ ‘ANSWER: Oh, I’m trying to think. It was probably last Thursday or Friday.
“ ‘QUESTION: That would be the tenth or the eleventh?
“ ‘ANSWER: Yeah, I