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First, Houston's DNA lab became a laughingstock. Then its controversial director was murdered.
Dutko says he realized then that he had a solid instance of reasonable doubt on his hands, maybe even enough to clear his client.
"They forgot to tell anybody about it for two years afterward," Lentini says. "You always wonder when you learn that kind of stuff [just] before a trial, did they screw up or were they hiding the ball?"
The expert hired by the prosecution, forensics expert John DeHaan, dismisses the PPV theory: "You can't have gasoline vapors from a fan penetrating waterlogged debris," he says. "And the roommates' description of the rapidity and size all fit with an accelerated fire."
DeHaan says he's no stranger to the rampant bad science that leads to innocent people accused of setting fires. He's written books decrying it, he says. But he still believes Pourghafari probably got away with murder.
"The prosecution was focused on the right guy," he contends. "I thought the case was sound." All the facts, he says, "fit with a fire deliberately set on the bed."
In his official report, DeHaan noted that gasoline had been detected in the carpet and the underlying pad of the bedroom, as well as on the shorts Alley was wearing.
What about the possibility of an accident? Could Alley have died because of some weird electrical mishap?
Cavanagh shrugs dismissively. "It certainly would have had to have been a strange accident," he says. "And it's particularly coincidental that he [Pourghafari] just happened to be right there within seconds after it happened."
Dutko formulated a persuasive alternate theory, bolstered by an unexplained laceration on Alley's head and a charred piece of wood lying across what was left of her bed. The large headboard above the old waterbed and its set of halogen lights could have ignited the blaze, possible accelerated by the gasoline traces investigators had found, he argued. The bed set was even reconstructed for the jury's convenience. Improperly attached to the wall, the halogen light fixture could have fallen, landed atop the bed, and sparked the blaze, explaining the wood found on the bed as well as Alley's head injury.
Ultimately, it came down to the kinds of narratives presented by the prosecution and defense.
The prosecution's sweeping murder scenario, Dutko says, "required huge leaps of logic: 'He loves her, so therefore he doused her with gasoline and killed her. '"
Juror Mary Barnes notes that the night before, Amanda and Kaz went to a movie (Saving Private Ryan) and out to dinner (Longhorn Steakhouse) before he took her home.
"And then he'd go back the next morning and kill her? It's outrageous. I know in my heart that he didn't do that."
Although the jurors were forced to grope to understand the prosecution's explanation of Pourghafari's motives, the defense scenario seemed to make sense: Kaz was a man in love, and he appeared to behave accordingly.
Lentini agrees: "What's wrong with this case is that nobody did a reality check, just stood back and say, 'Does this make sense?'"
Still, as the trial began after six years of delays, acquittal appeared to be a long shot.
"Oftentimes, people who may have the best intentions and may be operating under what they think are noble, moral motives form an opinion and refuse to consider the rest of the information," Dutko says. "A lot of times, injustices occur, and that's exactly where this was headed, I'm convinced."
Ready for the worst, Dutko made plans for a penalty phase of the trial. "We had to be prepared for the jury to convict him," he says. But Dutko felt an inexplicable confidence.
After closing arguments, Pourghafari was told that it could take another two to three weeks for the jury to sift through the evidence and reach a decision.
Three hours, 15 minutes later, Dutko got a call on his cell phone: Get back to court. Pourghafari was frantic. In fact, he was trembling when the jury assembled in Judge Alfred Horowitz's courtroom on April 22, 2004, to read the verdict.
The jury left the deliberation room and filed into their seats. His head back, Pourghafari prayed out loud. Barnes remembers, "He was saying, 'Oh please, dear God.' The whole courtroom could hear him."
The bailiff read the verdict: Pourghafari was found not guilty on both counts. He put his head in his hands and cried. His wife came over and hugged him. Elated, Pourghafari hugged Cavanagh. "He was misled," Pourghafari says.
Prosecution witnesses were stunned. "I found it really hard to believe," DeHaan says. "During the trial, I thought, 'It looks pretty bad for him. '"
Juror Robert Bowers, a 38-year Publix employee retired since 2000, says he'll never forget it. "Extraordinary. It's an awesome responsibility to know your vote could affect a man's life."
"It was like we were just one big brain," Barnes marvels. "All of us thought the same way. It was just amazing. Truly amazing."
To keep her job at Jerry's Diner, she didn't take a day off for two months afterward. "I was worn out, but at least I was able to go home and sleep at night. I felt really good when I walked out of that courtroom. We all found him innocent because we all thought he was innocent."