May 24, 2001
When
The Evidence Lies
BY
BELINDA LUSCOMBE
Jim
Fowler has been struck twice by lightning. A retired house painter
in Oklahoma City, Okla., Fowler lived through his 19-year-old son
Mark's arrest in 1985 for murdering three people in a
grocery-store holdup. Mark was sentenced to death. A year later
Fowler's mother Anne Laura was raped and murdered, and a man named
Robert Lee Miller Jr. was sentenced to die for the crime. The same
Oklahoma City police department forensic scientist, Joyce
Gilchrist, testified at both trials. But DNA evidence later proved
she was wrong about Miller. He was released after 10 years on
death row, and a man previously cleared by Gilchrist was charged
with the crime. Fowler can't help wondering if Gilchrist's
testimony was equally inept at the trial of his son Mark, who was
executed in January.Last week gave Fowler even more reason to
wonder. A state judge ordered a man named Jeffrey Pierce released
after serving 15 years of a 65-year sentence for rape. Gilchrist
placed him at the scene of the crime, but DNA evidence proved he
was not the rapist. In response, Oklahoma Governor Frank Keating
launched a review of every one of the thousands of cases Gilchrist
touched between 1980 and 1993, starting with 12 in which death
sentences were handed down. But in another 11 of her cases, the
defendants have already been put to death. The state is giving the
Oklahoma Indigent Defense System $725,000 to hire two attorneys
and conduct DNA testing of any evidence analyzed by Gilchrist that
led to a conviction. A preliminary FBI study of eight cases found
that in at least five, she had made outright errors or overstepped
"the acceptable limits of forensic science." Gilchrist
got convictions by matching hair samples with a certainty other
forensic scientists found impossible to achieve. She also appears
to have withheld evidence from the defense and failed to perform
tests that could have cleared defendants.It's a bitter convolution
of fate that Gilchrist should be based in Oklahoma City, the last
place one would expect to find compelling arguments against the
death penalty. Her story can't help but give Oklahomans pause
about the quality of justice meted out by their courts. Says
Gilchrist's lawyer, Melvin Hall: "The criticism of her around
here is second only to that of Timothy McVeigh." But the
allegations also underscore a national problem: the sometimes
dangerously persuasive power of courtroom science. Juries tend to
regard forensic evidence more highly than they regard witnesses
because it is purportedly more objective. But forensic scientists
work so closely with the police and district attorneys that their
objectivity cannot be taken for granted. Gilchrist told TIME in an
interview last week that she's bewildered by her predicament.
"I'm just one entity within a number of people who testify,"
she says. "They're keying on the negative and not looking at
the good work I did." In her 21-year career with the Oklahoma
City police, she had an unbroken string of positive job
evaluations and was Civilian Police Employee of the Year in 1985.
Her ability to sway juries and win convictions earned her the
nickname "Black Magic." In 1994 she was promoted from
forensic chemist to supervisor. Until recently, Hall says, she did
not have "a bad piece of paper in her file." Now
Gilchrist is on paid leave; in June she will face a two-day
hearing to decide whether the police department should fire her.
Meanwhile, her reputation has been shattered. The hammer blow came
when Pierce, a landscaper who was convicted of rape in 1986, was
released last week after DNA testing exonerated him. He had been
found guilty despite a clean record and plausible alibi largely
because of Gilchrist's analysis of hair at the crime scene. "I'm
just the one who opened the door," said Pierce. "There
will be a lot more coming out behind me."Pierce lost 15 years,
his marriage and the chance to see his twin boys grow up. But some
fear there were others who paid even more dearly: the 11 executed
defendants. The Oklahoma attorney general has temporarily shut the
gate on execution of the 12 still on death row in whose trials
Gilchrist was involved. While the D.A.'s office believes that the
convictions will stand, these cases will be the first to be
reconsidered. Defense lawyers fear that the innocent who took plea
bargains in the face of her expertise will never come to
light.Gilchrist told TIME, "There may be a few differences
because of DNA analysis," but she is confident most of her
findings will be confirmed. "I worked hard, long and
consistently on every case," she says. "I always based
my opinion on scientific findings." She insists she didn't
overstate those findings to please the D.A.'s office or secure
convictions. "I feel comfortable with the conclusions I drew."But
defense lawyers say the Gilchrist investigation is long overdue.
Her work has been making colleagues queasy for years. In January
1987, John Wilson, a forensic scientist with the Kansas City
police crime lab, filed a complaint about her with the
Southwestern Association of Forensic Scientists. (The association
declined to take action.) Jack Dempsey Pointer, president of the
Oklahoma Criminal Defense Lawyers Association, says his group has
been fighting for an investigation "almost since the time she
went to work" at the lab. "We have been screaming in the
wind, and nobody has been listening." Police Chief M.T. Berry
says it wasn't until 1999 that the department had any reason to be
suspicious about her work. That's when federal Judge Ralph
Thompson lit into her for "untrue" testimony and the
"blatant withholding of unquestionably exculpatory evidence"
in the rape and murder trial of Alfred Brian Mitchell. (Thompson
overturned the rape conviction but let the murder stand.) In March
2000 Gilchrist was put out to pasture at a police equine lab,
where she says she had to do "demeaning tasks" like
count test tubes.Then this January, a devastating memo from Byron
Boshell, captain of the police department's laboratory-services
division, thudded onto Berry's desk. It filled four three-ring
binders and noted reversals and reprimands the courts had handed
Gilchrist, as well as the issues the professional journals had
taken with her work. Under her supervision, it said, evidence was
missing in cases in which new trials had been granted or were
under review; and rape evidence had been destroyed after two years,
long before the statute of limitations had expired. Gilchrist
explained last week that she always followed established
procedures with evidence and that the memo was simply the
department's way of getting rid of her after she reported the
sexual harassment of a colleague. "There is no doubt this [memo]
is retaliation," says Gilchrist.How did her career last this
long? "She couldn't have got away with this if she weren't
supported by prosecutors, ignored by judges and police who did
nothing," says Wilson, who filed the original complaint
against her 14 years ago. "The police department was asleep
at the switch." The D.A.'s office simply says Gilchrist
should not be tried in the media. But one prosecutor, who declined
to be named, lays blame on the aggressive tactics of D.A. Bob Macy,
who's proud to have sent more people to death row than any other
active D.A. in the country.Which raises a more troubling question.
How many other Gilchrists are there? In Oklahoma City, Chief Berry
has ordered a wholesale review of the serology/DNA lab. And while
Governor Keating insists that no one has been executed who
shouldn't have been, Pointer and the local defense-lawyers
association plan to re-examine the cases of the 11 executed
inmates. "Nobody cares about the dead," he says.
"The state is not going to spend money to find out that they
executed someone who might have been innocent."
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