- November 26,
Police Chemist's Missteps Cause Okla. Scandal
By
Lois Romano
OKLAHOMA
CITY -- On a dreary, freezing January day here nearly 18 years ago, a
20-year-old woman opened her door to a man who inexplicably and violently
stabbed her more than 30 times. Within a couple of weeks, the police
charged an unemployed construction worker with attempted murder.
Harold
"Gene" Weatherly, then 25, maintained his innocence through
numerous voluntary interrogations, a trial in which forensic evidence
nailed him, and two parole hearings in which his refusal to admit guilt
cost him early release. He served 15 years in prison.
He
was sure, he says now, that one day the truth would rescue him, the truth
that -- contrary to the damning testimony of now disgraced police chemist
Joyce Gilchrist -- he was never in the victim's home. The truth, the FBI
declared this year, was that the fibers on his tennis shoes did not match
those from the crime scene, as she had testified.
Weatherly
is just one of hundreds of inmates -- former and current -- caught up in
arguably the biggest law enforcement scandal in Oklahoma history.
Gilchrist, who was fired in September, has been accused of egregious
misrepresentations of forensic evidence over two decades. Already, a
reexamination of her work has freed a convicted rapist and a death row
inmate, overturned a death sentence, and called into question the evidence
used to execute a man last year.
Gilchrist,
through her lawyer, declined a request for an interview. She has said she
has done no wrong.
Separate
state and federal investigations have spent months scrutinizing Gilchrist's
work in more than 1,200 felony cases, and $650,000 has been appropriated
to perform DNA analysis, which was unavailable in the 1980s, on many of
her cases.
And
she is not alone. As DNA analysis has freed dozens of convicts, with
hundreds more cases pending, it has also raised questions about the
scientists who helped convict them. In May, the National Association of
Criminal Defense Lawyers appointed a forensic task force to study the
issue.
In
the most high-profile incidents nationally, at least 10 convictions have
been overturned in Illinois, West Virginia and Texas because of the work
of two criminal scientists. The 1987 testimony of Illinois forensic
scientist Pamela Fish in a rape and murder case is under review now
because recent DNA testing showed semen recovered from the victim did not
match any of the four men convicted of the crime. And in West Virginia, a
jury deadlocked in September when the state tried Fred Zain for
fabricating blood-test findings after convictions that relied on his
testimony were overturned.
Oklahoma
investigators are almost done with a preliminary review of the Gilchrist
cases and have flagged about 165 that merit further review. Still, state
officials say it will take at least a year to untangle a mess that has
eroded confidence in the legal process and stretched the nerves and
resources of law enforcement officials. Critical evidence is missing or
lost in some of the 20-year-old cases, trial transcripts are floating
somewhere around the court system, and witnesses have moved or died.
But
the most sensitive aspect of the investigation is whether the state of
Oklahoma, relying on Gilchrist, may have executed an innocent man -- or
someone who would have been sentenced to life without her critical
testimony.
Twenty-three
capital cases have been identified in which Gilchrist provided testimony.
Of those, 11 convicted murderers have already been put to death, and 12
sit on death row. State officials insist no one has been wrongly executed.
Last
month, a federal grand jury subpoenaed all evidence from 10 murder cases
in which Gilchrist testified to determine whether the defendants' civil
rights were violated. Nine of the cases have already resulted in
executions; the 10th is serving life without parole.
"Whether
it was intentional or just negligence, the fact is that her testimony was
used to secure death sentences in cases where these people might have been
sentenced to life," said James Bednar, executive director of the
Oklahoma Indigent Defense System (OIDS), a state agency spearheading the
DNA testing. "If just one of these people would have been sentenced
to life without her testimony, the entire criminal justice system has been
undermined."
Gilchrist's
Rise and Fall
What
seems baffling in hindsight is how Joyce Gilchrist survived for so long.
Questions had been raised about her work for over a decade -- by judges,
by defense attorneys and by her own peers.
Oklahoma
County's new District Attorney C. Wesley Lane II, who took over in July,
struggled to explain why she remained in her position. True, he said,
defense lawyers were always criticizing her, "but they take shots at
everybody." In any event, he said he is committed to making things
right.
The
daughter of a butcher and a factory worker, Gilchrist obtained a degree in
forensic science from the University of Central Oklahoma in 1980. By then
she was already working in the Oklahoma City police crime lab, attracted
by the mysteries of crime work. "It's up to you to recognize, to
listen to what the crime scene is trying to tell you, put it all back
together and make a picture," she once said in an interview.
From
the beginning, she seemed to get the results the prosecution wanted. She
was an articulate and forceful witness, and prosecutors -- particularly
the legendary Oklahoma County District Attorney Bob Macy -- came to rely
heavily on her. (Macy, 70, resigned unexpectedly in June, as the Gilchrist
scandal escalated, saying he wanted to spend more time with his family.)
But
in 1987, a Kansas City, Mo., police chemist wrote a scathing letter to the
Southwestern Association of Forensic Scientists at the behest of Oklahoma
defense lawyers, complaining that Gilchrist rendered "scientific
opinions from the witness stand which in effect positively identify the
defendant based on the slightest bit of circumstantial evidence."
In
a recent interview, John T. Wilson said he took the unusual step of
publicly criticizing a colleague after several Oklahoma defense attorneys
asked him to review her testimony in preliminary hearings. He ultimately
testified against her for the defense in three murder cases.
"I
got major heat" for testifying, said Wilson, the chief criminologist
for the Kansas City police crime laboratory. "But I felt I had an
ethical obligation. When I read the transcripts and saw what she was
saying, I was really shocked. She was positively identifying hair and
there's no way in the world you can do that without DNA."
The
regional group concluded after an investigation that Gilchrist violated
the organization's code of ethics, and formally censured her.
Yet
back in Oklahoma she continued to receive glowing performance evaluations
and to testify, acquiring the nickname "Black Magic" from the
police because of her success. "It was in reference to a homicide
case where the defense attorney referred to me in his closing argument as
a sorcerer . . . and stated that I seemed to be able to do things with
evidence that nobody else was able to do," she told CBS's "60
Minutes II" in May.
A
year after Wilson wrote his letter, the Oklahoma Criminal Court of Appeals
overturned the murder conviction of Curtis Edward McCarty because
Gilchrist gave "personal opinions beyond the scope of scientific
capabilities." McCarty was reconvicted and sentenced to death; his
case is now one of three death row cases identified by the state for
further testing.
The
next year, 1989, the same court overturned another murder conviction and
ordered a new trial for James Lucas Abels, saying that Gilchrist had
improperly testified, based on hair analysis, that Abels had been "in
very close and possibly even violent contact" with the victim.
A
year after that, Gilchrist was promoted to supervisor.
It
was not until August 1999, when a respected federal judge in Oklahoma City
harshly rebuked Gilchrist, that things began to unravel for her. U.S.
District Judge Ralph Thompson bluntly labeled as "untrue" her
testimony that semen samples in a rape and murder case were
"inconclusive" -- when, he said, Gilchristknew for a fact that
the sperm could not be from the defendant. Thompson overturned the rape
conviction of Alfred Brian Mitchell. (He left the murder conviction
intact, but the death sentence was recently overturned by the 10th Circuit
Court of Appeals.)
Stung
by Thompson's remarks and mounting criticism, police removed Gilchrist
from the lab the following March, and assigned her to an administrative
position. Seven months later, in October 2000, she was expelled from the
Association of Crime Scene Reconstruction for giving testimony that
misrepresented the evidence.
"She
was a hack for the prosecution," said Jamie Pybas, who supervises the
DNA forensic testing for OIDS.
"It
was common knowledge within the defense bar and should have been to the
DA's office that she was incompetent and malicious," said attorney
David Autry, who has represented a number of people he says were
railroaded by Gilchrist. "She survived because she made close cases
for the prosecutors and secured convictions in particularly heinous
crimes."
Autry
and other lawyers charge that Gilchrist went way beyond the accepted
scientific practices of her time. "She would come up with hair
analysis that few could refute because the technology was not
available," said Autry. Oklahoma City public defender Robert Ravitz
said Gilchrist's analysis often went unchallenged at trial because
defendants did not have the funds to conduct independent examinations.
Scathing
Police Report
Gilchrist's
free fall started in January with a scathing internal police report, which
was clearly in the works for months. It criticized her for everything from
sloppy handling of evidence to incompetent management of the laboratory.
About the same time, serious questions began to emerge about Gilchrist's
role in the 1986 rape conviction of Jeffrey Todd Pierce. The police
department asked the FBI to examine eight of her more controversial cases.
A
month later, she was placed on administrative leave. Today, she could face
a myriad of state and federal charges, the gravity of which will depend on
whether she is found to have lied intentionally or was simply incompetent.
The
FBI found that in five of the eight cases she had either erred in her
analysis or overstated her conclusions. Gilchrist gave testimony, the FBI
said, that "went beyond the acceptable limits of forensic
science." Her laboratory notes "were often incomplete or
inadequate to support the conclusions reached."
With
specific reference to Pierce, the FBI stated that Gilchrist's own analysis
did not support her primary conclusions that 28 scalp hairs and three
pubic hairs were "microscopically consistent" with Pierce's
hair. A month later, when DNA testing of semen exonerated him, Pierce was
released from prison after having served 15 years of a 65-year term.
A
24-year-old father of young twin boys at the time of his conviction,
Pierce always maintained his innocence. After his conviction, he divorced
his wife and cut off contact with the boys because he did not want them
growing up knowing their father was in jail. By the time he was released,
he had lost all his jail privileges because he refused to enter a
sex-offender treatment program.
He
is now reunited with his sons and ex-wife in Michigan -- although they
haven't remarried yet. "I blame most of what happened to Jeff on
Gilchrist," said his brother, Gary. "I don't know how she lives
with herself."
Legally
speaking, Pierce is considered one of the lucky ones because his name was
cleared before he completed his sentence and his basic freedoms -- like
the right to vote -- have been restored. He also can make a stronger case
that his rights were violated should he decide to sue the state, which he
will likely do, Gary Pierce said.
Many
of the others against whom Gilchrist testified, like Gene Weatherly, have
already done their time and have little recourse. Only a gubernatorial
pardon can clear their names.
The
Death Row Cases
As
the Gilchrist investigation lumbers past its seventh month, the state
multi-agency task force has agreed to test only three of the 12 current
death row cases connected to Gilchrist -- and none of the 11 in which the
perpetrators have already been executed. (A few additional death row cases
that were handled by another chemist who worked for Gilchrist are also
being reviewed.)
The
Oklahoma Indigent Defense System, though, wants to conduct forensic
testing on several additional Gilchrist death row cases, and seven of the
11 individuals already executed -- but has met resistance from state
Attorney General Drew Edmondson.
Edmondson
said in an interview that he does not want to test every capital case,
maintaining that Gilchrist's testimony was not a definitive factor in most
of them. "We looked at each case critically and assumed that no
forensic evidence was involved, and asked, 'Is there still sufficient
evidence to convict?' " Edmondson said. "Based on that, I am
personally satisfied that no innocent person was executed, and that we are
examining the appropriate death row cases."
Everyone
seems to agree that in most of the 23 capital cases involving Gilchrist,
the defendants have demonstrable culpability. But that is not the point,
say defense lawyers, if the conviction and sentences were obtained
fraudulently.
"It's
very simple," said Jack Dempsey Pointer, president of the Oklahoma
Criminal Defense Lawyers Association. "If we're going to invoke the
highest penalty that society can impose, we better get it right."
So
argues the family of Mark Fowler, executed in January for the 1985 murder
of three grocery store clerks in a back room during a robbery. Fowler
admitted being part of the robbery, but denied playing a role in the
murders. He said he was outside in the getaway car when his accomplice
shot and stabbed the victims.
But
Gilchrist asserted that hairs found on a victim and on a murder weapon
were consistent with Fowler's. The state has refused to conduct a DNA test
on the hairs.
The
defense bar -- and even some state attorneys involved in the investigation
-- believe Edmondson has a conflict of interest.
"The
attorney general has for years defended against these appeals, arguing
that there is nothing wrong with the testing, while he may have known it
was shaky," said Steve Presson, who heads the Oklahoma Coalition to
Abolish the Death Penalty. "He has an interest in preserving these
convictions and sentences and therefore should not be involved in deciding
which cases are tested."
Edmondson
says he does not believe he has a conflict during this stage of the
investigation, but vowed to appoint a special prosecutor if investigators
determine a crime has been committed by law enforcement officials such as
Gilchrist.
Edmondson
did concede, however, that one additional case may merit more testing:
that of a man executed last year.
Malcolm
Rent Johnson was put to death in January 2000 for the 1981 rape and murder
of 76-year-old Ura Alma Thompson in Oklahoma City. He maintained his
innocence until the end. Gilchrist testified on hair, fiber and semen
stains. Most significantly, she said that semen found on a bedspread and a
pillow case in the victim's bedroom was consistent with Johnson's blood
type.
But
a private attorney, Doug Parr, who took up Johnson's cause after the
Gilchrist scandal broke, has been challenging the state and the police to
reexamine the forensic evidence.
Over
the summer, he sued the police department for the records to no avail. But
last July, in a startling development, the police lab stated in a memo
obtained by media that it had recently reexamined the original slides
purportedly containing the sperm and found no sperm there -- contrary to
Gilchrist's claims 19 years ago.
While
the findings do not exonerate Johnson, says Parr, "it indicates that
she gave false testimony at the trial."
During
Johnson's trial, then-District Attorney Bob Macy argued that Gilchrist's
forensic testimony was "damning, it's condemning, it's
conclusive." But today the state is arguing just the opposite.
Edmondson insists that Johnson -- who had pleaded guilty to rape a few
years earlier -- would have been convicted anyway because the victim's
apartment key, watch and other items were found at his apartment. Johnson,
who was considered borderline retarded, had stated that someone else gave
him the property.
"I
just can't believe in my wildest dreams that a jury, even back then, would
give someone the death penalty based on that kind of flimsy evidence"
without Gilchrist's forensic testimony, said Ravitz, the public defender
who represented Johnson at trial. It was Gilchrist, Ravitz contended, who
placed Johnson in the victim's apartment.
The
next step would be to test the sperm on the bedspread and pillow case for
DNA, which Edmondson said he would agree to. But that has been put on hold
because federal investigators have confiscated all the evidence as part of
the grand jury investigation.
Weatherly's
Ordeal
Gene
Weatherly, 43, knows now that he was a sitting duck for the police in
1984. At 25, he was already an unemployed, divorced father of two who had
had at least two brushes with the law as a juvenile.
Without
a lawyer, Weatherly cooperated with police, giving photographs, hair
samples and interviews. He produced three alibi witnesses who said he was
cleaning out a shed at the time of the attack. But the police rapidly
built a circumstantial case. He agreed to a polygraph, which, according to
news reports, showed indications that he was being deceptive.
In
addition, said a prosecutor recently, "the composite sketch looked
like Gene sat for it."
And
then there was Gilchrist's testimony. "My opinion is that the person
wearing that tennis shoe had to have been associated or had to have been
in the home of [the victim] either during the crime or after the
crime," Gilchrist stated at Weatherly's May 1984 trial. He was
convicted of attempted murder.
Years
later, Weatherly gained access to a police report that referred to
identifiable bloody fingerprints at the scene -- potentially exculpatory
evidence -- that were never given to his lawyers. Today, they are nowhere
to be found. And earlier this year, the FBI retested the fibers in his
case as part of the Gilchrist investigation. "None of the synthetic
fibers" on his shoes was a match, the report stated.
"The
report essentially exonerated him and there was not a thing he could do
about it," Autry said. Unless the government acknowledges that it
made an error, as it did in the Pierce case, it would be virtually
impossible for him to successfully sue, legal experts say.
Today
family photographs dominate the stark walls and shelves of Weatherly's
small house in Hobart in western Oklahoma. But his pictorial family
history seems to begin just a few years ago, at age 40. The other years
are hidden between the pages of a brown photo album that documents his 15
years in jail through awkward family visits a few times a year.
He
met a woman toward the end of his sentence, and they married a few months
after his release in 1998. She just gave birth to their second child. He
landed a decent job at a factory making about $25,000 a year.
But
inside the little yellow A-frame with peeling paint, Weatherly is not at
peace. Piles of papers and files cover the dining table, as he obsessively
explains his case to lawyers and reporters and investigators.
After
years of fighting Weatherly's appeals and claims of innocence, the state
has taken a more open-minded public posture. New District Attorney Wes
Lane said in an interview that he would support a pardon if Weatherly can
present a convincing and comprehensive argument that he is innocent.
Weatherly is slightly buoyed by this development -- but
he won't yet allow himself to relax. "Somehow," he said, "I
feel like I'll be dealing with this for the rest of my life.
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