some items delivered to you from the crime lab. Is this everything you need to retest Exhibit Six to see if this white powder is cocaine?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you retest the sample and explain to the jury what you’re doing.”
Wing turned to the jury. “I’m going to perform what is known as the Croak, or Scott, test.”
He showed the jurors a small glass vial containing an amber substance marked DEA-II.
“This vial was prepared by the Drug Enforcement Administration and it contains cocaine hydrochloride, or ninety-nine-percent pure cocaine. Before I test the powder in Exhibit Six I’ll test this standard to make sure my reagents are working correctly.”
Wing uncorked a small test tube partially filled with red liquid and poured a sample of the standard into it. Then Wing corked the test tube and shook it gently.
“I’m now mixing the standard with cobalt thiocyanate and glycerin, my reagents.”
“Ah,” Wing smiled as the extract turned a vivid blue. “The change from red to bright blue indicates the possible presence of cocaine, but we’re not through yet,” Wing said.
“When I add hydrochloric acid to the mixture the solution should turn pink.”
When it did, Wing added chloroform and shook the mixture gently. A blue color appeared in the chloroform layer. Wing smiled triumphantly.
“The change of color from red to vivid blue to pink, then back to blue in the chloroform layer, tells us that cocaine is present.”
“Why don’t we see what happens when you test Exhibit Six?” Benedict suggested.
The bailiff handed Wing the ziplock bag. The forensic expert opened it and used a small stainless steel rod with a flattened end to spoon out a tiny mound of powder from the baggie. Then he uncorked another test tube that was partially filled with reagent and poured the powder into it. He recorked the tube and agitated the contents.
“Something wrong?” Benedict asked when Wing looked blankly at the weak blue color of the mixture. Mary Maguire, the judge, and all of the jurors leaned forward.
“Er, um, the color is a little pale, but . . .”
Wing poured in the acid. The mixture fizzed.
“What’s going on, Officer Wing?” Benedict asked.
Wing shook his head and stared dumbfounded at the bubbly mess in the test tube. He added the chloroform but no blue appeared.
“This . . . this shouldn’t be happening,” Wing stuttered.
“What shouldn’t?” Benedict asked.
“It’s reacting like baking soda,” Wing said in disbelief.
“What!” Maguire shouted.
Gardner rapped his gavel. “Are you saying that the powder in Exhibit Six is not cocaine?” he demanded of the witness.
Wing looked as if a piano had just landed on him. “I swear, Judge. This tested positive for cocaine in the lab.”
“Where no one could see the test,” Benedict told the jurors. “But when there are witnesses present we get baking soda, don’t we, Officer Wing?”
Wing opened his mouth, then shut it quickly.
What Benedict didn’t say was that he had memorized everything about Exhibit Six and taken a photo of it with his cell phone when he’d viewed it in the property room. Then he had created a duplicate baggie filled with baking soda, which he’d switched for the real exhibit during Kyle’s outburst.
“He did this,” Maguire shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Charles Benedict.
“Ridiculous,” Benedict protested.
Gardner banged his gavel. “George, take the jurors to the jury room,” he told his bailiff.
As soon as the jurors were out of the courtroom, the judge glared at the lawyers.
“Both of you, in my chambers, now! And I want to see Officer Wing, too.”
Benedict led his client to the judge’s chambers. Mary Maguire followed with Justin Wing in tow. They found Gardner sitting behind his desk. He did not look happy.
“We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” the judge said.
“I certainly hope so,” Benedict said. “I for one would like to know why Mr. Ross was forced to go through the agony and expense of a trial for possession of baking soda.”
The prosecutor turned to the judge. “Justin Wing is as honest as the day is long. If he swore that powder was cocaine, it was cocaine.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Benedict said magnanimously. “I have no idea how or why Officer Wing screwed up, but it’s obvious that he did.”
“Wing didn’t screw up. You had something to do with this,” Maguire insisted.
“Enough,” Gardner said. “Officer Wing, how do you explain this?”
Wing looked thoroughly befuddled. “I can’t, Judge. That powder tested for cocaine in the lab. The only way it could test as baking soda is if it was switched.”
“And how was that accomplished?” Gardner asked.
“I