Mind of a Fanatic

Chapter 17

Natalia Boa Vista sat waiting patiently on the witness stand. She was determined to give the best testimony she could to put Dupree behind bars. An underlying philosophy in her life had always been that while one might mess with her, no on dared mess with someone she cared about. Calleigh was her co-worker and mentor, but, more than that, she was her friend; one that she never counted on having after it came out that she was the mole. After the furor died down and Horatio kept her on, Calleigh had deliberately sought her out and patiently listened to what she had to say. Calleigh had been angry and had felt betrayed, but, for some reason, was able to move beyond those feelings sooner than anyone else. Whatever the reason, Natalia had been grateful. Now she'd return that kindness with the most damning testimony she could give and put Dupree behind bars for the maximum time the State called for. It was the least she could do.

"Ms. Boa Vista, what were your findings when you processed the devices?" Bartlett asked.

"I swabbed each device for DNA evidence. I found two separate DNA samples on many of the items. There was always one set on the handle and on the ones that had two sets, the other set was always on the business end;, the part that struck or caused damage to the other person. The on the handles was male; a positive match to Father Dupree. The other set on the business end was female; a positive match to CSI Duquesne."

"In your expert opinion Ms. Boa Vista," Barlett paused briefly and glanced at the jury. Several of them were pale, others were wearing set expressions; he let the images that Natalia described take root in their minds. "Tell the court what your conclusion was."

Natalia took a deep breath and then looked directly into the jury box. Her voice held a hard edge to it, remembering processing everything, including Eric's blood stained clothing. "I concluded that Father Dupree held the handles and turned the cranks, thereby beating and torturing CSI Duquesne."

Bartlett nodded. "What exactly leads you to this conclusion, Ms. Boa Vista?"

"The DNA that came off the handles were from epithelials; skin cells that slough off naturally when you touch everyday objects. It's a natural bodily function," Natalia explained exactly as it had been rehearsed. "The DNA that I found on the bed, manacles tied end of the rope, tips of the whips and on the hair shirt were mostly blood and bits of flesh that had been forcibly removed from the victim, not a passive transfer as with the previously mentioned skin cells."

"You testified earlier that you also processed clothing other than the hair shirt. What did you process?" Bartlett asked, pleased with Natalia's testimony. She was effectively placing another nail in Dupree's coffin. "Please be specific."

Natalia tried to minimize her revulsion at the memory. Calleigh's blood all over Eric's clothing...and the flecks and spatter on Dupree's. It had made her sick to her stomach. "I processed CSI Delko's shirt and pants as well as all the clothing found belonging to Father Dupree, including the clothing he was wearing when arrested."

Bartlett nodded. "Please tell the court your findings, starting with the defendant's clothing."

Natalia opened her file folder, concentrating on getting every detail right. "I found on the defendant's clothing, blood spatter consistent with medium velocity patter and cast-off from the devices. Those are two very distinct patterns of spatter; the medium velocity spatter is consistent with close proximity to the victim as blood is being forced from them as consistent with a beating. Blood is produced and spatters back on the assailant." She turned to the jury. "I found this pattern on the defendant's clothing. Upon further examination I found a second set of spatter differing from the medium velocity spatter. It was consistent with a kind of spatter called cast-off – Cast-off is when blood that has been on an implement and that implement is swung, causing the blood to fly off in an arching pattern. I found that predictable arching pattern on the defendant's clothing. DNA analysis on both blood spatter patterns is a positive match to CSI Duquesne."

"Thank you Ms. Boa Vista," Bartlett said. "Please tell the court what you found on CSI Delko's clothing?"

"Upon examination of CSI Delko's clothing, I found passive blood transfer," Natalia took a deep breath and focused on her notes, fighting back the sudden unexpected tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. "The entire DNA matching that of CSI Duquesne."

"How did it get there?" Bartlett asked his eye on the jury. The fact that Boa Vista was becoming a little emotional was actually working in their favor; it showed the regard and concern that the team held for each other; that Calleigh hadn't been Dupree's only victim.

"I spoke with CSI Delko and he told me that after he processed CSI Duquesne and her immediate surroundings," She replied, wiping at a tear. "He released her from her bonds and the blood got on his clothing because he held her to try and comfort her because she was so badly beaten and appeared to be in abject agony."

"This has obviously upset you. You're a CSI and are used to all manner of grizzly and bloody crime scenes." Bartlett made certain that the jury could see Boa Vista clearly. "Why is this so particularly upsetting?"

"I apologize." Natalia took a deep breath and got hold of herself. She'd be damned if she would give that sonofabitch the satisfaction of seeing her break down. "CSI Duquesne is a colleague and mentor. My training as a CSI has been her sole responsibility over the last several months. In that time I have gained a deeper respect for her. She has also become a good and valued friend. That a colleague, mentor and friend had to endure what CSI Duquesne had is in fact, extremely upsetting."

"Are you certain that your regard for and friendship with CSI Duquesne is not coloring your testimony?" Bartlett asked, going in for the slam-dunk.

"No sir," Natalia looked over at the defense table, nailing Dupree with a cold stare. Her voice was hard as she replied. "Regardless of our friendship, evidence is evidence and at the end of the day, the science will tell the truth."

She refrained from adding 'rot-in-hell-you-twisted-bastard'.

"Good morning, Calleigh." Jodi Stourton entered Calleigh's room, wheelchair at the ready. The physical therapist had a round, pleasant face, freckled from the Miami sun. Her curly brunette hair was pulled back and up into a ponytail. "Ready for another round?"

"No, I'm not going." Calleigh said, turning her face away from the physical therapist. "What's the point? I'm utterly useless anyway."

Jodi took a good look around the room. Calleigh hadn't raised herself into a sitting position and her breakfast tray was entirely untouched. More to the point, her face had a listless look that Jodi was all too familiar with.

"Do you feel sick?" She crossed the room and felt Calleigh's forehead for fever. "Is the pain too much today?"

"I want to be left alone," Calleigh said flatly.

"Well if you're not sick and not in too much pain then you're going to P.T." Jodi pulled the covers back. "Get up."

"No." Can't this woman take a hint?

"We can do this one of two ways. Either you get up yourself and I'll help you into the wheelchair or I'll pick you up and put you in there." Jodi said firmly, but not unkindly, mildly confused with Calleigh's sudden complete unwillingness. "You're not going to get any better if you don't work at it."

"What's the use?" Calleigh murmured miserably.

"Excuse me?" Jodi leaned in, unsure of what she heard. "Come again?"

"I said; what's the use?" Calleigh turned her head to face Jodi. She bit out the last three words. The anger that had been building since her talk with Horatio suddenly exploded in a hot white flash. Who the hell did this woman think she was, The Miracle Worker? "I'm no better today than I was last week. It still hurts like hell, I'm weak as a kitten and I can't see any point of doing any of this to myself anymore. It's frustrating and demoralizing. I've been through enough torture already. Why should I willingly put myself through more? Leave me alone!"

"I'll tell you what the point is, Calleigh," Jodi said steadily, weathering the storm with a calm born of experience; this wasn't the first time a patient had gone off on her, and it wouldn't be the last. Anger was good; it could be focused and channelled towards recovery. She'd read Calleigh's file and spoken with the ER staff who'd attended her when she was brought in; most people would have curled up and died after the hell she'd been through. The fact that Calleigh was mad as hell was beyond good – it was fantastic. So long as that rage didn't turn inward. "There is nothing permanently wrong with your legs. They were almost completely dislocated and they are going to hurt for a while more. You WILL regain full use of them. Your left arm is already doing better and getting stronger. You just need to regain your strength and that's going to take time and patience. You have to be-"

"Do not tell me to be patient; I am sick to death of that word! Nothing is getting better at all!" Calleigh yelled beginning to feel light headed from the effects of adrenaline. "Why can't everyone just leave me alone? I can't do a damn thing and every time I try it just drives home the fact that I can't do it. Please just go away!"

"Then use that anger and get up out of that bed and work for it." Jodi replied reasonably.

"Apparently you haven't heard that I'm still too weak to do anything at all so just leave me alone!" Calleigh shouted her pain and anger so sharp it made the air around her nearly crackle.

Despite the outburst, Jodi picked her up. "Prove them wrong."

She lowered Calleigh into the wheelchair, unprepared for the physical fight that Calleigh put up. The chair tipped, dumping Calleigh on the floor. Jodi squat and reached out to help her up. Her hands were slapped away.

"Get out."

Jodi stood, took the call remote off the bed and laid it within Calleigh's reach. Experience had taught her that it was useless to argue in situations like this. "Call the nurses' station when you're ready to work."

She stood and walked away as Calleigh curled herself into a ball and began to keen.