Chapter 28 #2
He explained the fingernails. “The right index acrylic nail was removed from every victim postmortem, with the exception of one,” he said.
“With a sharp instrument consistent with a surgical scalpel. This detail was documented in twelve separate medical examiner reports across ten jurisdictions and was never released to the press or to the public. It was the investigation's verification standard.” He looked at the jury. “The one he didn’t harvest was because he was mad. Mad at a press conference when his methodology was described as random. He killed her and did not take the nail to prove that his methodology was not random. In addition, the defendant's field notebook, which was recovered at the time of his arrest, contains fourteen entries. Each entry has a nail glued to the top of the page. Right index finger. Acrylic overlay. One per victim. In the correct sequence, matching our victim timeline, with the exception of that one instance where he left us a message. He logged her kill, noted her responses, but didn’t take her nail.”
The jury looked at the notebook in its evidence bag on the exhibit table.
“The notebook also contains detailed clinical observations about each victim,” Marcus said.
“Their behavior during the approach. Their physical characteristics. How long they fought to breathe. Their responses. Thirteen entries. Twelve dead victims. One who lived, and that person has already testified.”
He heard something in the gallery. A sound. A soft sob. He couldn’t imagine hearing the details of the murders, of the investigation. The families had no way of processing the information or of having an emotional release. Not here. Not in the courtroom.
Voss introduced the service logs.
Marcus walked the jury through the matrix.
Eleven years. Twelve dead victims. Thirteen service log entries placed Adrian Hale in the correct city within the correct window for each abduction.
He put it on the screen, and he walked through it one entry at a time.
He let the data speak the way his father had taught him.
When he finished, the jury foreman was looking at the matrix with the expression of someone who’d already made up her mind and was waiting for the process to catch up.
Garrett cross-examined for two hours.
He attacked the service log methodology. The geographic assumptions. The interpretation of the corridor pattern. He was thorough, and Marcus answered everything directly. The data didn't need any support.
Then Garrett asked the question Marcus had been waiting for.
“Mr. King, isn't it true that your interpretation of this evidence was shaped by a predetermined conclusion? That you identified a theory and then built evidence to support it, rather than following the evidence to a conclusion?”
Marcus looked at him.
“No,” he said. “We built criteria from the evidence and applied them consistently.
Every filter we used was supported by the physical evidence before we applied it.
The geographic corridor came from the victim locations.
The certification level requirement came from the crime scene evidence.
The service territory analysis came from the corridor.
The helium coolant identification came from Detective Stone's direct olfactory contact with the defendant.” He paused.
“We didn't build the case toward Adrian Hale. The case built toward Adrian Hale because the evidence pointed there.”
Garrett sat down.
Marcus stepped down.
* * *
Haven watched as Adrian took the stand on day five.
Garrett had fought for it. Haven had heard through the courthouse corridor that Voss had tried to prepare for it and hadn't been entirely able to because nobody could fully prepare for what Adrian Hale was going to say when he finally had a room full of people paying attention.
He settled into the witness chair with the ease of a man who’d been waiting for his time to shine.
Garrett led him through his professional history.
The certifications. The eleven years of service.
The professional record that was, objectively and by every documented measure, exceptional.
Adrian answered the questions in the same clinical tone.
He was composed. He was precise. He was the most controlled person in the room, and he knew it.
Then Garrett asked him about the field notebook.
“The notebook documents research,” Adrian said. “Behavioral research. The subjects were participants in an ongoing study of human response to high-stress scenarios.”
The gallery was very quiet.
“Voluntary participants?” Garrett said.
“Voluntary in the sense that they presented themselves,” Adrian said. “The research required naturalistic conditions. Informed consent would have compromised the validity of the data.”
Haven fought to keep herself from sneering. She stared at Adrian Hale on the witness stand, explaining his research, and felt the cold move through her the way it always moved through her when she was in the same room as him.
Then Voss stood up.
* * *
The cross-examination took three hours.
Voss started with Lila Moreno. Each victim was identified in the same way.
Voss asked the same questions for each woman.
She put Lila's photograph on the screen.
The one from the birthday party, the one Sofia had provided, the one that had been in the press since the beginning.
Lila was laughing at something off camera.
Light jacket. Dark leggings. The particular brightness of someone who was having a good day.
“Subject One,” Voss said. “Lila Moreno. Thirty years old. Elementary school teacher. Boise, Idaho.” She looked at Adrian. “Tell me about her voluntary participation in your research.”
Something moved at the edge of Adrian's expression. He kept the clinical tone, but the edge was there. “The subject presented at the Hulls Gulch trailhead consistently for six days prior to the assessment period. Her schedule and route were reliable indicators of—”
“She was a teacher,” Voss said. “She had students. She had a sister named Sofia who is in this courtroom today.” She looked at the jury. “She did not volunteer for anything. She went for a run.”
“The research required—”
“The research,” Voss said. “Yes, let’s get into the research.” She said the words with the flat quality of someone opening a box where everyone could look at it. “Let's talk about the research. You've testified that these women were participants in a behavioral study.”
“I did.” Hale lifted his chin defiantly.
“Okay. Can you tell the jury what institution sponsored this research?”
A pause. “The research was independent.”
“Independent. Not affiliated with any university, hospital, or research institution?”
“Independent research has value—”
“Was it peer reviewed?”
“The methodology was—”
“Was it peer reviewed?” Voss said again.
“No.”
“Was it published?”
“Not yet.”
“Was it registered with any research ethics board?”
A longer pause. “No.”
“Were the participants compensated?”
“The nature of the research precluded—”
“Were they compensated?” Voss asked.
“No.”
“Were they informed of the study's existence in any way?”
Adrian was quiet for a moment. “The methodology required naturalistic conditions,” he said. “Informed consent would have compromised—”
“What were the parameters of your study? Where are they written? What control factors did you use? Did you have the same temperature, humidity, time of day, or day of the week? Were the women the same age, from the same socioeconomic status? Anything?”
Hale frowned but didn’t answer.
“Let’s move on to victim number two.” Voss held up the next photograph. “She is identified as subject number two in your field book. Am I correct?”
“Yes.”
Voss went through the exact questions again.
Garett stood up. “Objection, your honor. Counsel is berating the defendant.”
“Overruled,” the judge leaned back in her chair. “I’ll allow the questioning.”
Voss went through each of the dead victims. She paused at victim number nine and looked at Hale. “Tell me about the incomplete subject.”
“She was an anomaly.”
“Because she fought and called for help? Because she hurt you so you couldn’t carry her out of the area? Because another runner heard her and called that he was coming to help?”
Hale lifted an eyebrow. “Her case is incomplete.”
“Because you didn’t kill her.”
“Because the research was not completed, yes.”
“You tried to complete it, though, didn’t you? You attacked her a second time?”
“I attempted to study the subject again, yes.”
“This time, you stopped her with a Taser, am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because adaptation was required.”
“Because she fought back last time. Because she escaped?”
“Correct. My research needed to be complete.”
“Right. Let’s move to the next victim.” Voss’s questions didn’t deviate, and Hale became more and more belligerent with the exact same answers for each woman.
“Lila Moreno is dead,” Voss said. “Erin Caldwell is dead. Hannah Cho is dead. Nicole Duvall is dead. Dana Walsh is dead. Rachel Iverson is dead. Michelle Avery is dead. Kara Bennett is dead. Angela Porter is dead. Grace Ellison is dead. Jenna Callahan is dead. Karen Marsh is dead.” She paused.
“These women are dead. This is not research. This is murder.”
“The data—”
“There is no data,” Voss said. “There is a notebook with nails glued to the pages. There is a man who selected women based on a cosmetic detail and killed them, arranged their bodies, and told himself it meant something.” She looked at him. “What did it mean?”
Adrian looked at the jury. Not at Voss. At the jury. The pale eyes moving across the twelve faces, the way they moved across everything, cataloging, assessing, looking for something to hold onto.