Page 111 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 107

T he next witness the deputy attorney general calls is Jan McHenry.

I perk right up. I don’t know who she is or where this is going, but I know an expert witness when I see one.

The clerk swears her in and Bastinelli gets started.

“Ms. McHenry, can you please tell the jury your name and occupation?”

She turns toward the jury box.

“My name is Jan McHenry. I am a forensic textile analyst at Icon Labs in Boston, Massachusetts.”

Blank stares from the jury.

Bastinelli walks over to the evidence table.

“Ms. McHenry, I’m going to ask you to look at a sample that is already in evidence.” Bastinelli picks up a clear plastic bag with a patch of dirty blue fabric inside.

“Your Honor, State’s exhibit twenty—a sample of the fabric in which Suzanne Bonanno’s remains were enclosed.” Bastinelli shows the bag to McHenry.

“Did you have an opportunity to examine this sample?”

She looks closely at the bag.

“I did.”

“And can you briefly describe how you examined it?”

“Certainly. I observed it visually, microscopically, through Raman spectroscopy, and through chemical analysis.”

“And without going into scientific detail, were you able to determine the composition of the fabric to a high degree of certainty?”

“Yes. It is ethylene polyester. Very common fiber. But a proprietary weave.”

“Proprietary? Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning it came from one specific manufacturer.”

“And were you able to identify the manufacturer?”

“I was. Formosa Industries in Taiwan.”

“And were you able to determine the approximate age of the fabric?”

“Yes. The factory told me that that specific run of sheets was produced for only a short while, about twenty years ago.”

“Are you able to be more specific?”

McHenry nods.

“Formosa used an experimental dye accelerator to speed up the diffusion of color into the fabric. That accelerator has a specific chemical profile. After the test run, it was discontinued because it was too expensive. So we know when the sheets were made.”

I can always tell how impressive an expert is by how quiet the gallery is.

When Jan McHenry speaks, I can hear a pin drop.

The jury is paying strict attention.

“And how many colors of fabric were produced in that test run?”

“Only one. Light blue, pattern BL three-zero-zero-nine X.” She points at the bag on the table.

“That’s the color of the sample I examined.”

“Thank you, Ms. McHenry.”

Bastinelli looks at the defense table.

“Counselor, your witness.”

I’m not sure what kind of damage Tess Hardy can do to Jan McHenry on cross, but I’m sure she’ll do her best.

Hardy walks briskly to the lectern like she’s in no mood to waste time.

“Good morning, Ms. McHenry.”

“Good morning.”

“Ms. McHenry, are you an expert in soil analysis?”

For a second, McHenry seems thrown by the question.

“Soil? No.”

“You seem certain that you can pinpoint the date that this fabric was manufactured, correct?”

“Yes. As I just said—”

“I’m not asking you to repeat your testimony, Ms. McHenry. My question is: Can you tell us with any degree of certainty how long that fabric sample was buried—or if it was buried at all?”

“I evaluated the fibers. Not the dirt.”

“I’ll take that as a no. So the sheet could have been buried a year ago, correct? Or left in somebody’s crawl space for the past two decades?”

“Objection!” says Bastinelli.

“Calls for speculation.”

“Sustained,” says the judge.

“Move along, Ms. Hardy.”

“Let me approach it another way, Ms. McHenry. For the moment, let’s stipulate that this fabric is, in fact, the age you say. However, based on your expertise, you cannot say with certainty that it has been buried underground for the past seventeen years, is that correct?”

“No, I cannot.”

“Or that it enclosed human remains for that entire time or any portion of that time.”

McHenry speaks directly into the mic.

“I cannot say that.”

“Thank you, Ms. McHenry. No further questions.”

I see what Hardy is doing.

She’s undermining the prosecutor’s gains with this witness.

More important, she’s sowing the seeds of doubt.