Mistrusting A MemoryChapter 24 free porn video

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It was day two of the trial and Roger was ready to produce testimony about the DNA identification of Gilbert Kinneson's remains. He had contacted Senior Technician Fred Simms, the lab supervisor, and hastily explained what he needed. Simms said it would be no problem. Schwartz tried to be as clear about things as possible.

"Now I know that there were a lot of tests done on the DNA from the body," said Roger. "That's not germane to the issue in this trial. All I need is an overview of how DNA is used to identify people, and a statement of how Kinneson's DNA was confirmed."

"Got it," said Simms, who was reading a report that was riddled with spelling errors and marking each one with a red pen. "What time?"

"Be there at nine," said Schwartz. "Courtroom B."

"Got it," said Simms again.

Roger had written his questions carefully. Nobody needed to know that Kinneson's remains were tied to all those other rapes. It wasn't material, and it would be prejudicial to his case.

"I call Fred Simms to the stand," intoned Roger Schwartz.

The door bailiff opened the rear door and called, "Fred Simms!" into the hallway. A woman appeared. She was smiling, and had a clipboard in her hands. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with her blond hair in a pony tail. She was wearing a white lab coat.

There was confusion until she introduced herself as Tiffany Baldridge, the technician who actually did the comparisons in question. Fred had done what he always did. He sent the tech who did the work. He did not pass along Roger's restrictions. All his personnel were professionals, and knew how to testify.

They told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

When she had been sworn in, Roger asked her to state her qualifications. She calmly listed her degrees, her length of service with the lab, and a count of cases she'd worked on. She threw in that none of her work had ever been successfully challenged in court. She confirmed that she'd received a blood sample from the autopsy of a John Doe and listed the case number and date.

"And what did you do with that sample?" asked Roger.

"I ran the probes on it and established a baseline for later comparison," she said.

"Could you explain what you do when you run probes?"

She did. It went twenty minutes. She had visual aids, printouts of the results on the sample. By the time she was done, even the judge was fidgeting in his chair.

"And whose DNA was it?" asked Roger.

"We didn't get a match in any of our databases," she said. "He remained John Doe, until some new samples were received, to be compared to the original baseline for the deceased."

"These new samples," said Roger. "When you compared them, did they match the DNA of the victim?"

"Yes they did. They established that the victim was Gilbert Kinneson."

"Thank you very much," said Roger, returning to his seat. "No further questions."

McDill got up.

"Miz Baldridge, could you tell me where these new samples you mentioned came from?"

Tiffany went through her report.

"They came from various places," she said. "The ones that identified the victim came from a hairbrush belonging to Gilbert Kinneson, according to the evidence form."

"And the others?"

"Objection!" said the prosecutor. "Irrelevant and immaterial. The victim has already been identified."

"By hairs from a hairbrush," said McDill. "How do we know they were Gilbert Kinneson's hairs? How do we know it was Gilbert Kinesson's brush? There were other samples that were tested. I'd like to know about them."

"Overruled," said the judge. "But let's get past this without any showmanship, counselor."

McDill didn't seem to be affected by the warning.

"Please tell us where the other samples came from, and how they compared to your original," he said.

"They were hair and skin samples," said Tiffany, leafing through the pages on her clipboard. "I had two hair samples from crime scenes, and some skin samples. Here they are. They were from fingernail scrapings." She stopped.

"Crime scenes," mused McDill. "And fingernail scrapings. And how did they compare to the baseline for the deceased?"

"They were a match," said the technician.

"These samples seem to have been related to crimes," said McDill. "What kind of crimes?"

"OBJECTION!" yelled Roger. "Mr. Kinneson is not on trial here. His background is irrelevant!"

"What are you trying to do, counselor?" asked the judge, frowning at McDill.

"I'm trying to establish motive, your honor," said McDill, his face straight.

There were ten seconds of silence.

"You DO know you're the defense attorney in this matter," said Judge Gunderson, his eyebrows raised.

"I do, your honor," said Matthew, ignoring the veiled sarcasm in the judge's voice. "And motive is an important part of any murder trial. The prosecution seems to have ignored that, thus far. Rather than call this witness back during the defense, I thought I'd get the information out now."

Schwartz stood, his face flushed. "Your honor, this is ridiculous. I repeat that Mr. Kinneson is not the one on trial. And the establishment of motive is MY prerogative!" Had he stopped there, things might have been different, but his anger drove him forward. "I think it's quite clear that the accused THOUGHT Mr. Kinneson was her rapist, and that's why she murdered him."

The judge looked back at McDill, who spoke in an even, modulated voice.

"I want the jury to understand my client's motive for her actions."

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Chapter 24 Videos

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 5

The place he directed her to was a tiny hole-in-the-wall that she would have never given a second glance. She realized how hungry she was the instant she walked in, through the door Bob held for her, and the odor of wonderful, delicious things hit her like a sledge hammer. "Vinny!" Bob called out to a man, standing at the grill, wearing a white paper hat. Vinny looked over his shoulder, grinned, and held both hands up in the air, a spatula still in one. "You got me, copper," he said....

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 6

Lacey was ferrying a flash drive containing hundreds of photographs from the dig to the museum. A major discovery had been found. A collapsed cellar had been uncovered and, inside it, there were bones. Human bones. It wasn't clear yet how they had come to be there, but there were no indications of intentional burial. The artifacts found with the bodies suggested that people had taken refuge in the cellar and had died there. The pictures were needed at the museum as soon as possible, so that...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 7

Bob had just left the briefing room, coming on shift. He hadn't even buckled his seat belt when the radio squawked to life, telling him of a multiple injury accident, with an explosion involved. Paramedics and the fire department were already on the scene. Three patrols were being dispatched, and all three were still in the parking lot, after the briefing in the squad room. Three engines roared, and three sirens began to wail, as tires screeched. It was impossible to get close to the...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 8

When Bob went off shift, he returned to the hospital. "How come you're the only cop who ever checks on her?" asked the head nurse. "It's my case," he said bruskly. "How's she doing?" "Better," said the nurse. "She should be awake. All her vitals are normal. The sedative has been stopped. The only reason she's still in ICU is that she won't wake up." "I'll just sit with her for a while," said Bob. He'd stayed in uniform, since that got him almost anything he wanted, with...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 9

Sleep came with difficulty for Bob. His mind roiled with the import of what he knew ... or thought he knew. He tried to convince himself that cars caught on fire all the time. There was only circumstantial evidence that the dead man was her rapist at all. Even the fact that there had been no more rapes with that modus operandi didn't prove anything. Like Lacey, no one had come forward to ask where their son, or brother, or father, or husband was. The crispy critter, still unidentified, was...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 10

He took her to the impound lot, answering her questions when he thought he could do so safely, and dodging them or changing the subject when it got close to something he didn't want to talk about. She was appropriately awed by the damage to her car, and only glanced through the box of her possessions. The attendant brought out a bill for storage, and Bob tore it up. "Hey, you can't do that!" said the attendant. "I just did," said Bob. "The lady was in the hospital while it was...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 11

He took her to Santini's. On the way, he told her a car had sideswiped hers, and that she hadn't been injured. While she was trying to help others involved in the accident, an explosion had occurred. He left it simple. "Explosion," she said, her voice far away. "I remember light ... all over ... I was submerged in light." "What else do you remember?" he asked, his voice guarded. "Just that. When you said explosion, it just came to me." When they walked into Santini's, Donna met...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 12

Bob eventually slept, despite the erection between his legs that demanded attention. It was still demanding attention when he woke the next morning, with a soft, naked woman pressed against his body. It had been a long time since there had been a naked woman of any kind pressed against his body when he woke. That had been a result of long hours, and an unwillingness by Bob to turn over part of his life to any woman. It wasn't that he didn't like women ... it was more that he hadn't found a...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 13

Bob went back to his apartment. The bed was still unmade and the wrinkled linens held the imprint of a bed that had been slept in by a couple. The pillow she'd used was lying against his own, like her head had lain close to his. On impulse, he bent to sniff the sheets where she had lain. They smelled like ... her. He hadn't missed the verbal slip that the doctor had made. She'd been about to say that as much as she would have liked to get naked with him, right there in the office, it...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 14

Bob sat and read magazines, until there were none left to examine. There was no noise coming through the door—it was so quiet he felt like he was the only person on the planet. Eventually, his ears detected the hum of air being pushed here and there by the building's air handler units. He heard a siren dimly, through the walls, but no traffic noises. He checked his watch so frequently that he finally took it off and put it in his pocket. Finally, he dozed off. He woke, when the door opened...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 15

Bob popped two Vivarin when he got into the squad car the next morning. She had kept him up all night, satisfying her own needs and making up for the dry spell Bob had been in. He felt drained, but also more relaxed than he'd been in years. He was no longer distracted, either. Lacey had another appointment with Claire, but he was no longer worried that she'd suddenly realize there was no past between them. That had already been addressed. Now all he had to worry about was the return of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 16

Lacey went back to see Claire ahead of schedule, and told her everything that had happened. Claire put her under again, and spent an hour exploring the details of the rape that she hadn't gone after earlier. As each horrible part of the assault was revealed, Claire worked more instructions into the dialog, intended to minimize the emotional impact of the memories. Then she brought Lacey out of the hypnotic trance and spent another hour with her, concentrating on the things that Lacey felt...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 17

Bob heard her gasp as he left the bedroom. His head swiveled and he saw her standing there, bent slightly forward, her arm outstretched, hand turned sideways in a fist at the top of a candle. Her face was so pale it looked almost ghostly. Her mouth opened and an agonized groan was torn from her throat as she dropped the lighter and reeled backwards. Her eyes stared at the tall, pale yellow flame that the lighter had created at the tip of the candle, but her mind saw the same hand,...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 18

Back in the apartment, Claire asked questions. They were not "What did you do?" type questions, but rather were "How do you feel about what you did?" type questions. Lacey didn't feel good about any of it. For the psychiatrist, it was like walking a tightrope. Or, perhaps it was like making her patient walk the tightrope. There needed to be remorse for a bad deed, for there to be health in the mind and spirit. But it could be taken too far, and the patient could begin to hate herself,...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 19

She was adamant about keeping her appointment with Claire. He was glad she was going, because he had to go to work. He hoped Claire would talk some sense into her, and he made her promise not to do anything until she'd talked it over with him, no matter what she decided to do. She was waiting for him when he got home from his shift. She was calm, but looked drained. "I have to make this right," she said. "If you're sure about this, then it needs to be done right," he said...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 20

Two weeks later Bob was coming home from the gym, still dressed in his sweats. McDill had instructed them, superfluously, not to see each other until after the trial. He had been noncommittal after his questioning of Bob, concerning what his defense would be. "I have some ideas," was all he'd say. Bob turned the last corner and started toward the entrance to his apartment building. A car pulled to a stop at the curb next to him and the window rolled down. "Get in!" came a male voice he...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 21

Roger Schwartz grabbed his briefcase and hurried for the entrance/exit of the new suite of offices the prosecutor's staff was lucky to have just moved into. Lucille, his secretary, called out a cheery "Good luck!" as he sailed by her desk. "Don't need luck!" he yelled back, flashing her a grin. In fact, he believed that. He was one of the up and coming lawyers of a generation that believed skill would make "luck" an archaic term. If that seems a bit rash, perhaps it could be said...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 22

The door to the jury room opened and a man wearing glasses came in. He looked at something on a clipboard in his hand. "We're about to begin," he said, with no other introduction. "I need to give you some information about what's expected of you. Please listen closely." He read a list of rules, things they could and could not do while they were sitting in the jury box. His voice droned, making it clear he'd read this list countless times in the past. Fully half the jury tuned him...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 23

The next witness called after lunch was probably a poor choice for that particular spot in the lineup, but it hadn't been planned that way. It was the medical examiner who had done the autopsy on Kinneson's remains. Schwartz apologized to the jury for what they were about to hear, and then had the doctor describe the compound fracture in the victim's leg, which would have made it impossible for him to move around on his own. Then there was the testimony of the condition of the lungs, which...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 25

Instead of calling the first defense witness, Matthew now exercised his right to cross examine Officer Robert Duncan. Once Bob was on the stand, and had been reminded he was still under oath, Matthew began what he believed in his own mind was some of the most important questioning he'd do. He didn't want to ruin Bob, but uppermost in his mind was Lacey's welfare. "When did you first meet my client?" was his first question. Bob named the date and said, "I needed to interview her as the...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 26

There was a diner, of sorts, on the first floor of the building. It served pre-packaged sandwiches and salads. There were also hot soups, Polish sausages, hot dogs, kraut and the like. Maggie wasn't interested in the fatty foods, so she chose a bowl of mushroom soup, with lemonade, and took it to one of the small tables that were scattered around. She sat in one of two chairs at the table. She was joined by Helen, who asked if she could sit in the other chair. Neither woman seemed to be...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 27

"The defense calls Doctor Claire Montgomery to the stand," said Matthew. Roger stood. "Your honor, I fail to see the relevance of anything this witness could bring to the issue. I must object. Mental state is not at issue here. The accused did not plead based on insanity, either temporary or otherwise." Matthew spoke clearly. "Your honor, I have already indicated that I'm trying to establish motive for my client's actions. This witness's testimony is crucial to that...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 28

As soon as Claire left the courtroom, the judge turned to the jury. "I'm not going to sequester you, because you have not started your deliberations. You may all go home to your families, but you are not to discuss anything you've heard in this case with anyone, under any circumstances. Is that perfectly clear?" Most of the jury nodded. "Court will resume at nine-thirty tomorrow morning," he said, and banged his gavel hard on the block. The gravity of the situation had penetrated...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 29

The jury room hadn't changed much, but the changes that HAD been made were obvious. At each of the twelve chairs around the long table, there was a cheap name tag, made of paper folded into an inverted V. Maggie's was at one end of the table and bore the title "Foreman." It was almost lunch time and some faceless employee had provided a tray of sandwiches, individual bags of various kinds of chips, fruit, and pre-packaged salads from the cafe downstairs. There were also a dozen kinds of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 30

An hour and a half later Judy again chirped, "Let's vote!" Maggie looked around. People looked tired. A lot had been said, but there didn't seem to be any general consensus. Voting would at least be trying to make progress. She passed out ballots. This time, when she separated the pieces of folded paper, there were four in the guilty pile and eight in the not guilty pile. Everyone looked surprised. "My, my," said Maggie, who had changed her vote, but didn't expect anyone else to do...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 31

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked Judge Gunderson. Maggie stood. "We have, your honor." The bailiff took the folded piece of paper from her hand and walked it to the judge. He opened it. He looked at the jury, and then back at the paper. "Was this unanimous?" he asked. "Yes, sir," said Maggie. Gunderson handed the paper back to the bailiff, who returned it to Maggie. "The defendant will stand," intoned the judge. Lacey and McDill stood. Lacey looked like she might fall...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 32

As it turned out, Claire's misgivings were justified. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and she had no clue as to how to proceed. Had she been in her professional setting, she would have controlled the conversation. She couldn't really do that, there in the restaurant. So, she chose to try giving Lacey the redemption she sought. "They forgave you," she said, her voice tight. Bob shot her a look that said very clearly, "What the fuck? You don't mean that." Lacey didn't see...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 33

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Sheril Blossom has a set of big naturals that are still growing and she’s not afraid to use them! Sneaking into Oliver Trunk’s bedroom as the object of her desire sleeps, she pulls back the covers to reveal some big morning wood. Easing down onto the bed, Sheril wraps her lips around the tip of Oliver’s dick and starts sucking. As Oliver gradually wakes up, he reaches out to cup the heft of Sheril’s bosom, stroking and squeezing in time with the suction of her hot mouth....

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Arlene and JeffChapter 566

Jeff was sitting with Tosha on one side of him and Kei on the other while everyone ate. Kei leaned forward to see Tosha better past Jeff. “So, how are you enjoying your date while digging ditches?” With a suppressed giggle, Tosha answered, “I know that you’re teasing, but the truth is I’m enjoying it immensely. I have never helped install wiring, let alone in a cave, and certainly never while on a date, not to mention that the cave we are installing it in is on another planet. But... I find...

In confessional

This is a story heard while waiting for someone to come on the other side of the confessional, and I had asked to speak.He told of how, temporarily emigrated, he had been working for several months away from home, in a foreign country, not knowing anyone, where language, religion and customs are the completely unknown.This told the other side of the confessional:"Fortunately, the work assigned by the multinational was easy, and well-paid, with long hours that led to completely tired, but...

Date Yourself

Every story needs a protagonist. Someone to undergo the Hero's Journey. Someone who, through trials and tribulations, learns to come to terms with who they are—learns to love themselves.

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A Casket Built for Two

I received the letter in the morning post and didn't even open it up until I had returned from the market later that morning. It didn't seem to have any information on the envelope and was not even post-marked like so many letters seemed to be these days. It least it had a full first-class postage on it so I decided to chance reading it since the bulk of the unsolicited mail was sent under reduced terms. It was immediately obvious that it was, as I suspected, an advertisement. With an...

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