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“But she was found in the chair. Can you explain that?”
“No, I cannot,” replied Till.
“Could she have lifted herself from the floor into the chair afterward?”
“With the injuries she had sustained it would have been impossible.”
“Now, you heard Deputy LeRoy’s testimony that the defendant was found on his knees with his arms around Mrs. Randolph and her mostly in the chair. Would that explain it? That he was putting her there?”
Battle rose to his feet. “Objection. Defense counsel is not allowed to testify!”
She wheeled around. “I am in no way testifying, merely attempting to have Mr. Till explain a piece of previous testimony in conjunction with the forensic evidence, of which he is the expert of record for the commonwealth.”
Ambrose said, “Objection sustained.” He eyed DuBose severely. “Now, come on, Miss DuBose, an attorney of your experience surely knows better than that.”
Unruffled by this nonsensical ruling, DuBose pulled out some photos from a file that Jack handed her and showed them to Till.
“These have been previously entered into evidence by Mr. Battle, Commonwealth’s Exhibits Ten and Eleven. Can you describe them for the jury?”
“These are the pictures my people took of the clothes and shoes Mr. Washington was wearing when he was arrested.”
“All right. Is there blood on his clothes?”
“No.”
“Is there blood on the tops of the shoes?”
Till put his glasses on and looked at the pictures more closely. “Uh, no, none.”
“Is there blood on the soles of the shoes?”
He looked again at the photos. “Well, just a little on this one right there.”
“Just a little on that one right there,” repeated DuBose, looking at the jury. “Now, you testified that the attack on the Randolphs was furious and violent, and that they lost a lot of blood. How much blood?”
“Between them, nearly fourteen pints.”
“How many pints of blood does a human body have on average?”
“Ten.”
“So fourteen of their combined twenty pints of blood was on the carpet and on their clothes and the furniture? Everywhere literally?”
“Yes.”
“Is fresh blood sticky? I mean if you step in it, will it adhere to shoes and clothing?”
Ambrose interjected, “Mr. Till, does that not call for speculation on your part?”
A puzzled Till looked at the judge. “Not at all. I can say for a fact that fresh blood sticks to pretty much everything. When it gets on your clothes, it’s damn hard to get out, as my missus will tell you because she has to launder mine.”
The courtroom tittered at this.
DuBose waited for the noise to quiet down because she wanted to make absolute certain the jury heard every bit of what was to come next. “Mr. Till, you went to the crime scene, and walked where the blood was?”
“Yes, ma’am. No way around it. Had to get to the bodies.”
“And were your shoes covered in blood?”
