Grad student was DNA expert at lab used in Simpson trial

By STEVE COX

Reporter Staff

Although Marcia Clark may not be the only person disappointed with the verdict acquitting O.J. Simpson, UB Ph.D. candidate Amy Corey says that DNA scientists from Cellmark Laboratories, her former colleagues, who testified for the prosecution in that case probably aren't among the distraught.

Cellmark became a household word earlier this year when it backed up the Los Angeles Police Department Crime Lab, performing additional DNA testing on blood stain evidence in the murders of Nicole Simpson and Ronald Goldman. Located in the Washington, D.C. suburb of Germantown, Md., Cellmark is one of the largest private forensic laboratories in the country. The lab was one of the first private DNA facilities in the country when it opened. No states, not even the FBI Criminalistics Laboratory in Washington, had yet invested in DNA research as a forensic tool.

Corey, herself a forensic DNA expert at Cellmark from the time that firm opened in 1987 until starting her doctoral work in molecular biology here in the fall of 1992, says that the primary concern of a Cellmark scientist is the accurate presentation of their findings. "Most scientists would say they find reporting their findings (court testimony) to be a real pain," she confided, "because their focus is on their research, not on how it impacts the whole case."

"When you start at Cellmark, the lab director tells you there is one overriding rule: always tell the truth," she explained. The "truth" means the honest presentation of what was discovered, regardless of whether that helps or hurts the party that employed your services, she explained.

Cellmark Supervisor Robin Cotton, a friend of Corey's who has visited her in Buffalo, spent many days on national television last spring testifying to DNA pattern matches and misses on the many pieces of evidence collected at the crime scene, O.J. Simpson's estate and in his infamous Bronco. Cotton, however, was a supervisor at Cellmark and did not actually conduct the research in the Simpson case herself.

Her experience, says Corey, was an exception. Most DNA researchers follow their cases right through from receipt of evidence samples to testimony at trial. And, few anticipate the kind of attention that the Simpson "Trial of the Century" created. Most cases Corey encountered at Cellmark are "horrible crimes from small towns all over the country that are rarely read about in the national press."

Everyone has a unique DNA signature, obtaining one-half from each of their biological parents. Most human DNA is virtually identical, explained Corey. DNA scientists toil to identify those few strands, out of dozens in a DNA molecule, that are unique from person to person. Chemically extracting the DNA from evidence, as well as from a blood sample of a suspect and/or a victim for comparison, along with the requisite paperwork to preserve the legal integrity of the evidence, is time-consuming and expensive, says Corey. When she left Cellmark three years ago, each sample cost nearly $600. And, there were literally hundreds of samples in the Simpson case, although he was the only suspect.

Corey recalls working on many cases without that luxury. One particular Florida case occupied her for more than a year. The case involved the sexual assault and murder of a 14-year-old girl. "Over six months, we were sent samples from all sorts of suspects-family members, friends, acquaintances-but couldn't find a match," recalls Corey. More than six months passed when a diligent detective on the case heard of an arrest in Texas of a murder suspect driving a car that resembled one seen in the Florida incident. A "perfect match" from that suspect's blood ultimately led to death sentences for him in three states.

Still, Corey explains, the DNA scientist maintains a professional detachment from the outcome of legal cases. "Even the most interested scientist there doesn't really get that interested in the outcome of any particular case," explained Corey from her molecular biology lab in Cooke Hall.

Corey's doctoral research centers on photosynthetic plant DNA rather than human. However, she says, the process is much the same. Restrictive Fragment Length Polymorphism (RFLP), one of the two principal means of extracting DNA pattern information, is a method Corey used at Cellmark and still uses in her doctoral research. CNN addicts may also remember RFLP as being the DNA process Simpson attorney Barry Scheck spent so much time trying to discredit on cross-examination.

Today, Cellmark remains a complement rather than a competitor to the FBI and various state laboratories. "It is not their goal to replace crime labs, but to provide services that the state lab can't," explained Corey. For instance, state labs will not do research for defendants and sometimes lack the ability to perform vital tests fast enough to meet deadlines imposed in many states that expedite criminal trials under laws known as "speedy trial" statutes.

Although the legal profession is developing in its use of DNA evidence, Corey says the Simpson verdict points out one of its greatest shortcomings: its complexity. "One problem with jurors, we know this from interviews with them after trials, is that they feel overwhelmed by this stuff," explains Corey. "Sometimes it seems they just block the technical stuff right out and lean more on who they like better or believe more."

Jurors aren't the only ones who have trouble understanding the meaning of DNA pattern matches. Corey has encountered lawyers who "sometimes just don't get it. I had a case once when the defense attorney who had retained Cellmark, said to me during pretrial preparations, 'Okay, I will ask you this and you say that.'

"When I tried to explain to him that I couldn't say 'that' because it wasn't what the tests results actually showed, he would ignore me," recalled Corey. "Then, at trial, when my responses didn't match what he was looking for, he even went so far as to say, 'Hey, that is not the way we discussed this at pretrial."

Although UB's was the only doctoral program Corey even applied to, the decision to return to school was not an easy one for her. "My husband, who is in biomedical sales, had gotten a great offer in New York," she recalled, "so he said 'Hey, you always said you wanted to get your doctorate,' and I was like 'Yes, but I love my job.'"

Having passed her qualifying exams, following a brief delay last year when she and her husband had their first child, Corey expects to wrap up her doctorate in about 1-1/2 to 2 years. After that, she predicts, "maybe teaching, maybe forensic work again, maybe a different sort of research."


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