Murder One

"Sergeant Callery, would you please describe the condition of the body when you found it?" Callery swallowed hard before answering. "Are you sure you want me to?" This would be the focal point, Ben Kincaid realized, for the entire trial- all that came before and all that followed. Every murder trial had one-an indelible moment in which sympathies were polarized and the full gravity of the crime struck the jury like a ball peen hammer to the head. Even though he knew there was not a soul in the courtroom who did not already know the answer to this question in gruesome and graphic detail, this would be the moment when everything changed, and not for the better. "I'm sure," Assistant District Attorney Nick Dexter said. He obviously didn't mind the delay. A little suspense preceding the big moment could only increase the jury's attention level. "Please tell us what you saw." Sergeant Callery licked his lips. His eyes drifted toward the floor. His hesitation was not just for dramatic effect. He was not anxious to proceed. And Ben didn't blame him. Describing a crime scene was always difficult. But when it was a cop talking about the murder of another cop-one he knew per-sonally and had worked with on many occasions-it bordered on the unbearable. "When I arrived, I discovered that Sergeant McNaughton's body had been stripped of clothing. He was chained naked to the base of the main fountain in Bartlett Square-right in the center of the downtown plaza. He'd been hog-tied; his arms and legs were pulled back to such an extent that some of his bones were actually broken. He'd been stabbed repeatedly, twenty or thirty times. A word had been smeared across his chest-written in his own blood." "And what was the word?" "It was hard to tell at first, given the condition of the body. But when we finally got him down and put him on a stretcher, it looked to me like it said 'faithless.'" "Was there anything else . . . noteworthy about the body?" The witness nodded. The spectators in the courtroom gallery collectively held their breath. They knew what was coming. "His penis had been severed. Cut off-and stuck in his mouth." To Ben, it was an almost surreal moment, as if they were all actors in a play. After all, everyone knew what questions would be asked, as well as what answers would be given. There were no surprises; they were just going through their prescribed motions. And yet, the singular horror of the crime had an impact that left no one in the courtroom unmoved. This case had been high drama from the outset. Everyone knew about this ghastly crime. How could they not? The body had been on display for almost an hour before the police managed to get it down. Workers going downtown that cold Thursday morning couldn't help but see the macabre, almost sacrificial tableau. The location had been well chosen. Downtown Tulsa was a place where people worked, but almost no one went there for any other reason. From the time the workday ended until sunup, it was virtually deserted. Even the police rarely patrolled; the inner downtown streets were inaccessible by car and there was simply no justification for mounted patrols at that time of night, when no one was present. And so the killer was able to create a grisly spectacle that had been etched into the city's collective consciousness during the seven months since the crime occurred. "Why are they spending so much time describing the body?" a voice beside Ben whispered. "How is that relevant to who committed the crime?" The question came from the defendant-Ben's client, Keri Dalcanton. She was a petite woman, barely five foot two. She had rich platinum blond hair and skinBernhardt, William is the author of 'Murder One' with ISBN 9780345428141 and ISBN 0345428145.