Trial, page 43
“That’s right.”
“Had it?”
“Yes.”
“Specifically, on his hands?”
“Again, yes.”
Chase felt himself reflexively becoming the trial lawyer he once had been. Moving, he positioned himself so that Elder was looking in the direction of the jury. “What does that tell you?” he asked.
“Stippling only travels about two feet. Its presence on the face, hands, and clothing suggests that the gun was fired at very short range.”
“Does that also suggest that Bullock could have had his hands on the gun?”
“Could have? Yes.”
“Were there other indications that the gun was very close to Deputy Bullock when it went off?”
Again, the witness glanced at Harris. “The soot from the gun. Soot only travels about twelve inches, and it was present on the victim’s face, hands, and shirt.”
This, Chase intuited, had been the focus of considerable discussion between Harris and his witness. “Did you also fire Malcolm Hill’s Glock 19 to determine how it distributes stippling and soot, and therefore determine the approximate distance between the muzzle of the gun and the deputy’s wound?”
“Yes. I fired it into a cotton cloth. Based on the pattern, I concluded that the gun was fired approximately four inches from the entry wound.”
“Does a shot at such close range also enhance the possibility that the defendant and Deputy Bullock were wrestling for the gun?”
Elder hesitated. “Obviously, they were close enough that either or both could have touched the gun.”
“Did you also determine the distribution of gunshot residue, otherwise known as GSR?”
“I did.”
“GSR comes out of the top of the gun, true?”
“True.”
“So that you’d expect to find GSR on the hands of whoever fired the gun.”
“That’s right.”
At the corner of his vision, Chase saw Stephen Hewitt scribbling notes. “There was GSR on Deputy Bullock’s hands, correct?”
“There was.”
Chase’s questions came more swiftly now. “In fact, there was a roughly equal amount on his hands as on Malcolm’s, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You’re further aware, I assume, that the deputy’s contact DNA was found on the handle of the gun.”
“I am.”
“Independent of the other evidence we’ve already discussed, does that suggest that they were both grappling for control of the weapon?”
“It could, yes.”
Chase skipped a beat. “Or Deputy Bullock had aimed the gun at Malcolm Hill?”
Elder hesitated again, as if considering the possibilities. “Again, it could.”
Chase angled his head, miming curiosity. “Under ordinary circumstances, does the cartridge containing a bullet eject from a Glock 19 once it’s fired?”
“It does.”
“And when you test-fired the defendant’s gun, did the cartridge eject normally?”
“It did.”
Chase placed his hands on his hips. “But on the night of the shooting, the cartridge did not eject from Malcolm’s Glock 19.”
“No,” Elder responded slowly. “It was still stuck in the weapon. The slider on top of the gun that opens automatically to permit ejection didn’t open far enough.”
“What does that suggest to you?”
Elder seemed to frown. “That someone had their hand on top of the slider, preventing it from opening.”
Chase paused, drawing out the moment. “Doesn’t that suggest Malcolm and Deputy Bullock were struggling for control at the exact moment the Glock discharged?”
Again, the witness looked pensive. “That’s a logical explanation.”
“Given that the cartridge ejected normally when you fired the gun yourself, isn’t that the only logical explanation?”
Elder spread his hands in a shrugging gesture. “I can’t think of another.”
Thus far, Chase thought, Harris and Elder should have anticipated the thrust of his cross-examination. But this was less true, he hoped, for where he was going next. “There’s another point of interest,” he told the witness. “So bear with me for a moment.”
Returning to the defense table, Chase took a second Glock 19 out of his briefcase, conscious as he did so of Malcolm’s deep attention. Then he walked back to Elder, placing the gun in his hands. “Can you identify the make of this weapon for the jury?”
“Certainly. It’s a Glock 19.”
“Just hang on to that,” Chase responded. “In the meanwhile, I have a hypothetical question. Suppose that the autopsy report showed that the bullet entered Deputy Bullock’s forehead from straight in front of him, with the gun held at the same level as the entry wound. What might you conclude about the nature of the shooting?”
Elder considered the question. “It might, and I emphasize ‘might,’ suggest a deliberate shooting by someone capable of aiming the gun.”
“All right. Suppose the gun entered the deputy’s forehead from a downward trajectory, indicating that the gun was fired from above him. Would that suggest that Deputy Bullock was in a vulnerable position, enhancing the possibility of a deliberate shooting?”
“It could, yes.”
“But according to the autopsy report, that’s not what happened.”
“No. It’s not.”
“In fact, the bullet entered Deputy Bullock’s forehead on an upward trajectory, indicating that the gun was fired from below him.”
“That’s what the medical examiner found.”
“And according to Dr. Connell, the bullet also entered the right side of the deputy’s forehead.”
“That’s correct.”
“So, just to be clear, the bullet traveled on an upward trajectory.”
“Yes.”
Chase cocked his head again. “Suppose I tell you that Malcolm Hill is right-handed. If he pulled the trigger to deliberately shoot Deputy Bullock in the forehead, what is the likely direction of the bullet?”
The witness hesitated, and Chase saw comprehension stealing into his eyes. “Either straight, or entering from the left side of his forehead.”
“Thank you,” Chase responded. “Before we go any further, could you make sure the Glock 19 you’re holding is empty?”
Silent, Elder checked for cartridges. “It is.”
“Mind handing me the gun?”
Elder passed the gun. Taking it, Chase held the Glock in his right hand and, extending his arm across the witness’ chest, twisted his hand backward and upward at a crooked angle roughly four inches from the right side of Elder’s forehead. “Is this the angle at which a right-handed person would have to fire the gun to deliberately shoot Deputy Bullock as shown in the autopsy report—an upward trajectory through the forehead?” Abruptly, Chase twitched the trigger, causing a metallic click. “In other words, like that.”
Elder blinked. “I suppose so.”
“Isn’t that an extraordinarily awkward way for a right-hander to deliberately shoot someone?”
Elder seemed to collect his thoughts. “It would be. But not necessarily if you were wrestling for the gun.”
“Exactly,” Chase said. “So we’re back to that—wrestling for the gun. Assuming that Malcolm Hill is right-handed, would you agree that the trajectory of the bullet increases the likelihood of an accidental shooting in the course of a struggle?”
“It seems like I just said that.”
“Actually, you did. So let me summarize your testimony. The Glock 19 is prone to accidental shootings. Moreover, the likelihood that George Bullock’s death resulted from an accident is enhanced by the following factors: the modification of the gun to have a virtual hair trigger. The presence of GSR, stippling, and soot on Deputy Bullock’s hands. The fact that the cartridge didn’t eject. The upward trajectory of the bullet through the right side of the forehead. And the fact—which I can assure you, is a fact—that Malcolm Hill is right-handed.” Chase paused for effect. “Would any one of those factors support the possibility of accident?”
“They could, yes.”
“Taken together, do all these factors substantially increase the possibility that Deputy Bullock died as the result of an accidental shooting?”
“Objection,” Harris called out. “Counsel’s summary misstates the prior testimony.”
“Overruled,” the judge said promptly.
Chase turned back to the witness. “Yes,” Elder responded at last. “They do. “
“Thank you, Mr. Elder. No further questions.”
Returning to the defense table, Chase saw the hint of a smile in Jabari Ford’s eyes. As he sat beside Malcolm, his son whispered, “That was good.”
At once, Chase felt relief washing over him. “Good enough,” he whispered back.
Immediately, Harris was on his feet. “Mr. Brevard listed a number of factors to suggest that this was an accidental shooting. Isn’t every one of them equally compatible with the conclusion that Deputy Bullock tried to protect himself by seizing the gun, and that the defendant fired before he was able to do so?”
“Yes,” Elder answered emphatically. “Depending on the circumstances, all of them could line up that way.”
“Mr. Brevard also made quite a point of the trajectory of the bullet, and that the defendant is right-handed. But isn’t it also true that in his scenario the two men were, of necessity, moving?”
“Of course.”
“Therefore,” Harris continued, “Deputy Bullock could have turned the right side of his forehead toward the gun, rather than the defendant twisting his arm at a supposedly awkward angle.”
It was a critical point for the prosecution, Chase understood. “That’s certainly true,” Elder answered promptly. “A lot depends on the movements of both the defendant and the victim. They surely weren’t frozen in place.”
“So that, depending on the position of Deputy Bullock’s head, the defendant could have fired the shot from directly in front of him.”
“That’s also true. With respect to the trajectory of the bullet, a lot depends on the position of the victim’s head relative to the gun.”
“Thank you,” Harris said promptly, and sat down.
Briefly, Chase considered asking another question. “Anything more?” the judge asked.
Swiftly, Chase reached his decision. “No, Your Honor. Thank you.”
“Very well. We will adjourn for lunch until one o’clock.”
“All rise,” the courtroom deputy commanded, and a cacophony of noises broke out.
Leaning across the defense table, Ford murmured to Chase, “Good call just then. Looks like you haven’t entirely lost it.”
“Not entirely,” Chase answered.
Turning to Allie, Chase saw that she was still sitting with her mother, head downcast, a portrait of tension relieved. “Let’s get some lunch,” he told Malcolm. “I’m starving.”
69
Over the noon break, Chase, Ford, and Malcolm ate sandwiches in a waiting room for witnesses. After lunch, Ford slipped out to make phone calls or, Chase sensed, to give him time with Malcolm.
Across the table, Malcolm regarded him curiously. “Didn’t seem like you were nervous at all.”
Thinking of how apprehensive he had been, Chase smiled at this. “That reminds me of something your mom told me at Harvard—‘That’s why they call it acting.’ In politics we do it all the time.”
Malcolm appraised him. “Maybe so. But I’ve never really seen you lose your cool.”
For the first time, Chase felt Malcolm feeling out his characteristics, perhaps to try them on for size. “Life never gave me much reason to,” he answered. “So equanimity came easy to me. Later on I figured out that staying calm is useful. But sometimes I have to force myself.”
“Like when?”
“Like today. People tell me you’re competitive. When it matters to me, so am I. If I have to live with losing, I will. But there are times when I absolutely hate it.”
“What did you ever lose that mattered to you all that much?”
Looking at his son, Chase reflected on the answer. “Your mother,” he finally said. “And you, it turns out.” He paused before adding, “I don’t want to lose you again, Malcolm. That’s what you saw today.”
To Chase, his son’s contemplative quiet felt less like doubt than consideration. In time, Chase hoped, it might ripen to acceptance. But only if Malcolm went free.
The afternoon session, Allie had warned her mother, was unlikely to go as well. As the prosecution toxicologist began to testify, she took a moment to study their new environment.
The jury seemed even more attentive, she thought. But the three jurors Jabari and Chase had focused on—Stephen Hewitt, Robert Franklin, and Nettie Gray—remained opaque. Filing into the courtroom, Dorothy Bullock looked wounded, as though fearful that the justice system would betray her and her children. Outside the courthouse, Allie had spotted Fay Spann talking vehemently into the microphone of a Fox News reporter, and Charles and Molly Parnell had marshalled a brigade of armed militia holding a flag emblazoned with a bolt of white lightning. The first days of the trial seemed only to have heightened its tensions.
On the witness stand, Dr. Sharon Williams began ensnaring Malcolm in his own misjudgments.
From the outset, Williams seemed persuasive, a pleasant but precise gray-haired woman in her late fifties, with thirty years of experience as a toxicologist for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. “Dr. Williams,” Harris asked, “please describe how you evaluated whether the defendant was intoxicated at the time of the shooting.”
“Certainly,” Williams responded. “Shortly after Mr. Hill’s arrest, we obtained a warrant and took a sample of Mr. Hill’s blood. Since that time, the blood sample has been in the continuing custody of the GBI. Pursuant to our standard procedures, we gave it a barcode, tracked it, and followed everyone who looked at it. We also locked it away, to ensure the integrity of the sample.”
“Was the test you used to determine the defendant’s level of intoxication consistent with generally accepted scientific methods?”
“It was. Our department has very strict protocols.”
“What was the result of the test?”
Almost imperceptibly, Williams frowned. “The sample showed a blood alcohol content of point zero seven percent.”
“What does that suggest,” Harris asked, “about the defendant’s level of intoxication at the time of the arrest?”
The judge, Allie noticed, was following the testimony with a keen interest befitting a critical piece of proof. “The blood draw,” Williams answered briskly, “occurred roughly an hour and a half after Malcolm Hill’s arrest. The average elimination rate—that is, the speed at which the blood alcohol content dissipates—is zero point one five per hour. On that basis, we can estimate that the defendant’s blood alcohol content at the time of his arrest was between point zero eight and point zero nine.”
“What is the legal drinking age in Georgia?”
“Twenty-one.”
“How old is the defendant?”
“Eighteen.” Williams glanced at the jury. “Mr. Hill was below the legal drinking age—for these purposes, a minor under the law.”
“And under the law, Dr. Williams, what is the blood alcohol content in which a minor is deemed to be intoxicated?”
“It’s point zero two. At the time of the arrest, the defendant exceeded the standard by roughly four times.”
Glancing at the defense table, Allie saw that Jabari and Chase had both assumed the bland expression of defense lawyers when testimony is going badly for their client. But Malcolm had no such training—he stared down at the table, seemingly fixated by the cost of his own carelessness. Vainly, Allie thought of all the times she had warned him against drinking too much, the danger to a young Black man of mistakes caused by disinhibition. But perhaps the worst of this, now, was the impression Harris was creating for the jury: that Malcolm was a lawbreaker, spurred by illegal alcohol consumption to act out his hatred of police on George Bullock.
“For what reason,” the prosecutor asked Williams, “is the standard different for an eighteen-year-old like Malcolm Hill”?
“They are presumed to be more vulnerable to alcohol.”
Harris nodded. “But in this case, Doctor, you believe that Malcolm Hill met the adult standard for intoxication at the time of his arrest.”
“I do. Again, that standard is point zero seven, which matches the blood alcohol content of his sample at the time his blood was drawn. As I previously noted, based on the average elimination rate, I believe that the blood alcohol content at the time of his arrest was at least point zero one percent above the legal limit for adults.”
“At either rate—point zero seven or point zero eight—how would that level of intoxication affect the average adult?”
Williams folded her hands, seeming to marshal the symptoms of inebriation. “In the average person, you’d expect slurred speech, loss of judgment, and an impact on driving that includes divided attention, a slowing of reflexes, an increase in reaction time, and impairment of depth perception. Overall, the probable effects on behavior include a loss of memory and, in particular, a decrease in impulse control.”
“Malcolm Hill,” Harris continued, “is approximately six feet one inch tall and one hundred eighty-five pounds. How might his size affect the potential impact of alcohol?”
“Not much, if at all. That’s a pretty average size for an adult male.”
“And, if anything, the impact of alcohol on the defendant would have been greater at the time of the shooting—correct?”
Allie saw Jabari stir, as to object, and then think better of it. “It surely could have been,” Williams answered. “But even were he an adult, he was still legally intoxicated at the time of the blood draw.”
