The concrete blonde - By Michael Connelly Page 0,31
identified the product. It was from a Trojan-Enz lubricated condom with special receptacle end.”
Looking at the court reporter, Amado said, “That's spelled E-N-Z.”
“And that was the same for all five samples received from the five bodies?” Belk asked.
“Yes it was.”
“I am going to ask you a hypothetical question. Assuming that the attacker of eleven women used the same brand of lubricated condom, how could you account for lubrication being found in the vaginal sampling of only five victims?”
“I believe that a number of factors could be involved. Such as the intensity of the victim's struggle. But essentially it would be just a matter of how much of the lubricant came off the condom and stayed in the vagina.”
“When police officers brought you the various containers of makeup from the Hyperion apartment rented by Norman Church for analysis, did they bring anything else?”
“Yes they did.”
“What was that?”
“A box of Trojan-Enz lubricated condoms with special receptacle ends.”
“How many condoms did the box hold?”
“Twelve separately packaged condoms.”
“How many were still in the box when the police delivered it to you?”
“There were three left.”
“Nothing further.”
Belk returned to the defense table with a triumphant spring in his walk.
“A moment, Your Honor,” Chandler said.
Bosch watched her open a fat file full of police documents. She leafed through the pages and took out a short stack of documents held together with a paper clip. She read the top one quickly and then held it up to leaf through the rest. Bosch could see the top one was the protocol list from a rape kit. She was reading the protocols from all eleven victims.
Belk leaned over to him and whispered, “She's about to step into some deep shit. I was going to bring this up later, during your testimony.”
“Ms. Chandler?” the judge intoned.
She jumped up.
“Yes, Your Honor, I'm ready. I have a quick redirect of Mr. Amado.”
She brought the stack of protocols with her to the lectern, read the last two and then looked at the coroner's analyst.
“Mr. Amado, you mentioned that part of the rape kit consisted of combing for foreign pubic hairs, do I have that right?”
“Yes.”
“Can you explain that procedure a little more?”
“Well, basically, the comb is passed through the pubic hair of the victim and it collects unattached hairs. Oftentimes, this unattached hair is from the victim's attacker, or possibly other sexual partners.”
“How's it get there?”
Amado's face flushed to a crimson hue.
“Well, uh, it—uh, during sex … there is I guess what you call friction between the bodies?”
“I am asking the questions, Mr. Amado. You are answering.”
There was quiet tittering from the gallery seats. Bosch felt embarrassed for Amado and thought that his own face might be turning red.
“Yes, well, there is friction,” Amado said. “And this causes some transference. Loose pubic hair from one person can be transferred to that of the other.”
“I see,” Chandler said. “Now, you as coordinator of the Dollmaker evidence from the coroner's office were familiar with the rape kits of all eleven victims, correct?”
“Yes.”
“With how many of the victims did the findings include foreign pubic hair?”
Bosch understood what was happening now and realized that Belk was right. Chandler was walking into the buzz saw.
“All of them,” Amado answered.
Bosch saw Deborah Church raise her head and look sharply at Chandler at the lectern. Then she looked over at Bosch and their eyes met. She quickly looked away but Bosch knew. She, too, knew what was about to happen. Because she, too, knew her late husband the way Bosch had on that last night. She knew what he looked like naked.
“Ah, all of them,” Chandler said. “Now, can you tell the jury how many of these pubic hairs found on these women were analyzed and identified as having been from the body of Norman Church?”
“None of them were from Norman Church.”
“Thank you.”
Belk was up and moving to the lectern before Chandler had time to remove her pad and the rape kit protocols. Bosch watched her sit down and saw the widow Church lean to her and desperately begin whispering. Bosch saw Chandler's eyes go dead. She held up her hand to tell the widow she had said enough and then leaned back and exhaled.
“Now, let's clear something up first,” Belk said. “Mr. Amado, you said you found pubic hairs on all of the eleven victims. Were these hairs all from the same man?”
“No. We found a multitude of samples. In most cases, what looked like hair from possibly two or three men on each victim.”