Thirty nonillion. That is a three followed by thirty-one zeros. It is a number so large that it ceases to have meaning in any practical human context. You cannot visualize thirty nonillion of anything. You cannot hold it in your mind. It exists only as an abstraction, a mathematical expression of certainty that transcends ordinary comprehension.
On Day 7 of Brian Walshe's murder trial, the jury heard that number over and over again. Thirty nonillion times more likely that the DNA on the hacksaw blade belonged to Ana Walshe than to some unknown person. Thirty nonillion times more likely that the DNA on the hatchet head was hers. Thirty nonillion times more likely on the towels, on the rug fragments, on the hair samples. The DNA analyst, Salmon Salem, delivered these statistics in the same measured professional tone she had used for a decade of testimony. For her, these were just numbers. For the jury, they were the scientific confirmation of what everyone suspected but no one wanted to believe: Ana Walshe's biological material ended up on tools of dismemberment, inside trash bags, scattered across dumpsters from Peabody to Swampscott.
Ana was 39 years old. She had three sons, the oldest not yet ten. She was a Serbian immigrant who came to America seeking opportunity and found it through relentless work in hospitality and real estate. She commuted weekly between her family in Cohasset and her job in Washington, D.C., structuring her entire professional life around maximizing time with her boys. On New Year's Eve 2022, she called her friend Abdulla just before midnight to ring in the new year together. Nothing seemed wrong. She was warm, engaged, present. Within hours, prosecutors allege, she would be dead at her husband's hands.
Brian Walshe, 48, sits at the defense table in a suit and tie, watching the parade of DNA analysts explain the science that places his wife's genetic material on implements of violence. He has pleaded guilty to improper disposal of human remains, admitting he put Ana's body in trash bags and scattered them across the North Shore. But he maintains he did not kill her. His defense argues Ana died suddenly, unexpectedly, from natural causes, and Brian panicked. He made terrible choices. He committed crimes. But murder was not among them.
Day 7 was supposed to be the prosecution's triumph, the day when cold science would nail shut the coffin they have been building for seven days. And in many ways, it was exactly that. Salmon Salem testified that the unknown tissue recovered from the Swampscott dumpster, the tissue found outside Brian's mother's apartment, produced a single-source female DNA profile. Ana Walshe's profile. Thirty nonillion times more likely to be her than anyone else. Brian was excluded entirely. This is not trace evidence. This is not transfer from handling household items. This is human tissue, recovered from trash, confirmed to be Ana.
The hacksaw blade told the same story. Single-source female DNA. Ana Walshe included, thirty nonillion times more likely. Brian excluded. The hacksaw handle, same result. The white towel with red-brown stains, same result. The apparent hairs found in bag number four, same result. Item after item, sample after sample, the DNA evidence pointed to one conclusion: Ana Walshe's biological material was present on the tools and textiles that Brian admits he threw away.
But before the DNA parade began, the morning belonged to the defense. Christopher Sheen, the forensic scientist who had testified the day before about blood evidence collection, returned to the stand for cross-examination. Defense attorney Larry Tipton spent an hour methodically dismantling the impression the prosecution had built. And what he extracted from Sheen may prove just as important as any DNA statistic.
Tipton began with the white powder residue found on rug fragments. On direct examination, this had been presented without explanation, leaving the jury to wonder if it might be something sinister. Under cross, Sheen revealed the arson unit had tested it. The result? Baking powder. Ordinary, household baking powder. The mysterious white substance was nothing more than what you might find in any kitchen cabinet.
Tipton then established that numerous items found in the Cohasset home appeared brand new and unused. Cleaning supplies still in packaging. Mops and brooms with tags attached. Bottles of hydrogen peroxide that had never been opened. The implication was clear: if Brian had been cleaning up a murder scene, why were so many cleaning supplies still sealed? The prosecution's theory suggested a frantic cleanup effort. The physical evidence suggested many supplies were never used at all.
Tipton forced Sheen to admit that investigators found no blood spatter evidence anywhere in the Cohasset home. Not in the bedroom. Not in the bathrooms. Not on the stairs. Not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. Blood spatter, Sheen explained, is blood in flight, the kind that results from a violent attack, from a knife being swung or a blunt object striking flesh. If Ana was beaten to death in her home, there should be spatter. There was none.
Then Tipton turned to the sensitivity of the testing equipment. The Seratec instrument used by the crime lab can detect hemoglobin at concentrations of twenty nanograms per milliliter. A nanogram is one billionth of a gram. Twenty billionths of a gram. An amount invisible to the naked eye, an amount you could not find without sophisticated laboratory equipment. With technology that sensitive, investigators tested the bedroom where the prosecution alleges Ana was killed. They tested the stairs Brian would have used to move her body. They tested the living room, the kitchen, every path between the alleged murder scene and the basement where blood was eventually found.
They found nothing.
The only blood evidence of any significance in the entire house was in the basement. The floor near the washer and dryer. The broken step at the bottom of the stairs. A few spots that tested positive for hemoglobin. But from the bedroom down through two floors of living space? Nothing. Not even twenty billionths of a gram.
This is the gap the defense will drive their case through. The prosecution's theory requires Ana to have been beaten violently enough that dismemberment followed. That kind of violence leaves evidence. Blood spray on walls. Transfer stains on doorframes. Droplets on carpet fibers. The body does not just decide to bleed in the basement but nowhere else. Yet the crime lab, with equipment sensitive enough to find microscopic traces, came up empty everywhere except the basement.
Tipton scored again on the kitchen knife. During direct examination, the prosecution had presented a knife found above the refrigerator as potentially significant evidence. Under cross, Sheen admitted there were no visible stains on the blade. The screening test was positive, but no confirmatory test was ever performed. As Sheen conceded, the screening test alone does not tell you whether something is blood. There is no evidence that the knife had any biological substance on it at all. What had seemed ominous on direct examination dissolved into nothing under cross.
The compactor question landed hard too. Items recovered from the Peabody dumpster had been through a trash compactor, pressed and squeezed together to reduce volume. Tipton walked Sheen through what that means for forensic evidence. A hair found on the slippers might have been there when Brian deposited the bag. Or it might have transferred from another item when everything got crushed together. Biological material on one tool could have come from contact with another tool inside the same compressed bag. Cross-contamination is not just possible; it is likely when items are pressed together by mechanical force.
Sheen could not tell the jury how any particular piece of evidence came to be on any particular item. He could only say evidence was present. The how and when remained unanswerable.
Tipton also addressed the hair evidence. Two hairs had been examined from the trash site materials. One was consistent with human hair, the other with animal hair. The Walshes had a pet, so animal hair in their trash was unremarkable. The human hair contained a root, which Sheen acknowledged means it fell out naturally rather than being pulled or cut. A hair falling out is not evidence of violence. It is evidence of biology.
The slippers received detailed attention. Sheen had described taking samples from the interior specifically to collect skin cells for identification. He deliberately avoided areas with visible red-brown staining to prevent "cross-contamination" between potential blood evidence and skin cell evidence. This careful sampling would later be relevant when the DNA results showed both Ana and Brian's genetic material inside the slippers.
But Tipton made the point that Sheen had no idea what bag the slippers were found in, what other items were in the same bag, or what condition the slippers were in before being placed in that bag. The compactor had compressed everything together. The photographs showing the slippers represented their condition after recovery, not their condition when originally disposed of.
On redirect, prosecutor Rina Lydon tried to rehabilitate the testimony. She got Sheen to explain that cleaning can destroy blood evidence, that hydrogen peroxide is particularly effective at eliminating traces, and that a thorough cleaning would produce negative test results. She showed a photograph of the living room with a carpet that was different from the carpet fragments tested at the lab, suggesting Brian might have replaced rugs to hide evidence.
On re-cross, Tipton landed one final punch. The fireplace in the living room photograph appeared to have foam padding around its edges. Sheen admitted he had never examined it. Tipton suggested it was simply childproofing, foam taped around brick corners to protect small children from bumping their heads. Three young boys lived in that house. Childproofing is normal. But the prosecution had presented it without context, letting the jury wonder if it might be something more.
The day's final witness seemed almost anticlimactic after the DNA testimony. Michael Rody, a loss prevention manager for HomeGoods, testified about surveillance footage and receipts from stores in Norwell, Massachusetts. On January 2nd, 2023, someone used store value cards to purchase $245.35 worth of candles and rolled rugs. On January 4th, another purchase of towels and bath mats. The store value cards were traced back to transactions in Baltimore and Washington, D.C., in late December 2022. One receipt bore a customer name: Anna Walsh.
The prosecution is connecting dots. Store value cards linked to Ana. Used in Massachusetts after her disappearance. To buy items consistent with cleaning or replacing household goods. But under cross, defense attorney Tipton established that there was nothing unusual about family members sharing store credit cards. A transaction in Baltimore, a card used in Massachusetts, proves nothing sinister by itself. Families trade cards all the time.
As the jury filed out at the end of Day 7, they carried with them numbers they cannot possibly comprehend and gaps they cannot ignore. Thirty nonillion times more likely that Ana's DNA was on the hacksaw. Zero blood evidence in the bedroom. Twelve quintillion times more likely that Brian's DNA was inside the slippers. Nothing on the stairs, nothing in the living room, nothing in the kitchen.
The prosecution has scientific certainty that Ana Walshe's biological material ended up on tools of dismemberment. The defense has scientific certainty that the alleged murder scene shows no evidence of violence. Both things are true. Both things are documented by forensic experts. The jury must somehow reconcile them.
Consider what it must be like to be one of those twelve jurors. You came into this courtroom knowing nothing about DNA analysis. You had never heard words like "nonillion" or "quintillion." You probably thought a nanogram was something from a science fiction movie. Now you are being asked to weigh statistical certainty against forensic absence, to determine whether the presence of biological material proves murder or merely proves what the defendant has already admitted: that he disposed of his wife's remains in the most horrifying way imaginable.
The nine DNA analysts who testified spent hours establishing the reliability of their process. They described batch testing and proficiency examinations. They explained contamination protocols and chain of custody. They walked through extraction, quantification, amplification, and detection. Each step designed to eliminate error. Each procedure validated by accrediting bodies. Each result reviewed by multiple analysts before being reported.
This is science operating at its most rigorous. The Massachusetts State Police Crime Lab is nationally accredited. The analysts have passed every proficiency test. The equipment is calibrated, the procedures standardized, the results reproducible. When Salmon Salem says the DNA profile is thirty nonillion times more likely to have come from Ana Walshe than from a random stranger, she is stating a mathematical fact derived from validated methodology.
But science can only tell you what is. It cannot tell you how it came to be. The DNA on the hacksaw blade is Ana's. Science proves that. The DNA got there through some process. Science cannot prove what that process was. Did the hacksaw cut through Ana's flesh while she was alive and Brian killed her? Did the hacksaw cut through Ana's remains after she was already dead from other causes? Did the hacksaw merely come into contact with biological material through compression in a trash bag? The DNA is the same regardless of how it got there.
This is the fundamental limitation that the defense will exploit. All those impressive statistics, all those astronomical numbers, all that scientific precision proves only that DNA is present. The prosecution must prove the rest through inference, through circumstantial reasoning, through the accumulation of evidence that points in one direction. The defense must only show that the evidence is consistent with another explanation.
Three boys are growing up without their mother. They may grow up without their father too, depending on what twelve strangers conclude about numbers too large to visualize and absences too significant to ignore. Ana Walshe was a real person who loved her children, built a career, called her friend at midnight to ring in the new year. Whatever happened to her in the hours that followed, whatever choices Brian made in the days after, she deserves truth. Her sons deserve truth. The system promises to deliver it through due process and burden of proof, through cross-examination and reasonable doubt. Day 7 showed both the power and the limits of that promise.
In a different world, those three boys might have woken up on New Year's Day to find their mother making breakfast, their father sleeping in after the party. They might have spent the day playing with Christmas toys while their parents recovered from staying up past midnight. They might have gone back to school after the holiday break with stories about what Santa brought. Instead, their mother vanished. Their father was arrested. Their lives were shattered before any of them were old enough to understand why.
The courtroom cannot give them their mother back. No verdict will undo what has been done. But the courtroom can determine what happened and hold accountable whoever is responsible. That is its purpose. That is its promise. Whether it keeps that promise depends on whether twelve citizens can make sense of thirty nonillion and twenty nanograms and all the numbers in between.
The prosecution structured Day 7 to deliver a scientific knockout punch. Nine DNA analysts testified in sequence, each one a link in the chain of custody, each one explaining their role in the four-step process that transforms biological samples into courtroom evidence. Extraction, quantification, amplification, detection. The jury heard these words over and over, a liturgy of laboratory precision.
Bryce Raymond, forensic scientist with a master's degree from Tufts, explained how he prepared samples for testing. He described the protocols: bleach-cleaning work surfaces, wearing protective equipment, following procedures designed to prevent contamination. He has analyzed approximately 2,000 samples. He has passed every proficiency test. The lab is nationally accredited. The process is standardized. The results are reliable.
Brianna Kiesel did sample preparation on the slippers and Tyvek suit. Madison Frank handled extraction. Troy Adams performed quantification and detection. Emily Oliver worked on the hatchet samples. Mary Nagel did amplification. Joli Bregu ran detection. Karin Jacobsen and Katarina Stashyn processed the known reference samples, the DNA standards from Ana and Brian that would be used for comparison.
The parade of analysts served a purpose beyond establishing chain of custody. It showed the jury that forensic DNA analysis is not the work of a single scientist in a lab coat. It is a collaborative process involving multiple trained professionals, each contributing their expertise to a shared goal. The prosecution wanted the jury to understand that the results they would hear were not the product of one person's judgment but the output of a system designed to eliminate human error.
Katarina Stashyn's testimony was notable because she no longer works for the Massachusetts State Police. She has moved to Nevada, to the Washoe County Sheriff's Office crime lab. She flew back to testify about her work on the known reference samples, the DNA swabs taken directly from Ana and Brian that established their genetic profiles for comparison. Her testimony showed that the lab maintains records and can reconstruct the chain of custody even when analysts leave.
Karin Jacobsen explained the process of developing a known standard into a comparison profile. The saliva swabs from Ana and Brian went through the same four-step process as the evidence samples. The resulting profiles were single-source, meaning each came from one person only, and were suitable for comparison. These profiles became the benchmarks against which all the evidence samples would be measured.
The stipulation read by the judge added another layer of foundation. The parties agreed that FBI special agents had collected DNA samples from both Ana and Brian on May 9, 2018, in connection with the federal art fraud case. Those samples were stored at FBI headquarters in Boston until January 10, 2023, when they were transferred to the Massachusetts State Police Crime Lab for testing. The stipulation eliminated any question about the authenticity of the reference samples.
Each witness was brief, focused, professional. Under cross-examination, defense attorney Tipton extracted the same admission from each: they had no idea where the samples came from, how they were collected, or what happened at any alleged crime scene. They received tubes. They processed tubes. They generated data. That was their job.
Then came Salmon Salem. Ten years with the Massachusetts State Police Crime Lab. Forensic Scientist 3, a supervisory position. She manages six analysts. She interprets DNA profiles. She makes the comparisons and calculates the statistics. She is the person who looks at the data generated by all those other witnesses and tells the jury what it means.
Salem explained the science with the patience of someone who has done this many times before. DNA is the genetic blueprint that makes you who you are. You inherit half from your mother, half from your father. No two people have the same profile except identical twins. The lab tests 26 locations on the DNA molecule, plus a sex-determining location. At each location, you might have one characteristic or two. The combination across all 26 locations creates your unique profile.
When multiple people's DNA is mixed together on a single item, the profile becomes more complex. Instead of seeing one or two peaks at each location, you might see three, four, five, or six. The analyst must determine how many contributors are present and then compare each contributor's profile to known reference samples. The comparison produces a likelihood ratio: how much more likely is it that this profile came from this person versus some random stranger?
The numbers Salem reported were astronomical. The slippers from bag four at 300 Forest Street showed a mixture of three contributors including male DNA. Ana Walshe was included with a likelihood ratio of at least 270 million. Brian Walshe was included with a likelihood ratio of at least 12 quintillion. That is a twelve followed by eighteen zeros. For the exterior stain on the same slippers, Ana was included at 16 nonillion times more likely. Brian showed limited support for inclusion at only 77 times more likely.
To understand what these numbers mean, consider that there are approximately 8 billion people on Earth. A likelihood ratio of 12 quintillion means the DNA profile is that many times more likely to have come from Brian than from a random person. You would need to test every person who has ever lived, everyone alive today, and everyone who will ever be born for countless generations before you would expect to find another person whose DNA would fit as well. These are not probabilities of guilt. They are statements about the rarity of the observed genetic profile.
But even numbers this large have limitations. They tell you that the DNA almost certainly came from a particular person. They do not tell you how the DNA got there, when it was deposited, or what activity caused it to be left behind. The prosecution's interpretation is that Brian's DNA inside the slippers proves he wore them. The defense's interpretation is identical, but they add: he wore them during disposal, not during murder.
The Tyvek suit told a similar story. The interior sleeve cuff showed three contributors. Ana included at 4.8 nonillion times more likely. Brian included at 100 trillion times more likely. This is significant: both Ana and Brian's DNA was found on the inside of the Tyvek suit, the protective coverall recovered from the trash bags. Someone wore that suit while doing something that got blood on the outside. The DNA inside suggests who that someone was.
The exterior left pant leg of the Tyvek suit showed a single-source female DNA profile. Ana included at 30 nonillion times more likely. Brian excluded entirely. This is pure Ana, no mixture, no other contributor. Her biological material soaked through to the outside of the suit while someone was wearing it. Combined with Brian's DNA on the inside, the prosecution argues this proves Brian wore the suit while handling Ana's remains.
But other results were more complicated. On the interior right sleeve of the same Tyvek suit, Brian showed "limited support for exclusion," meaning the data weakly suggested he was not a contributor. Salem explained that when there is limited data available for comparison, the statistics can produce results that seem contradictory. A true contributor might be weakly excluded if their DNA contribution was too small to generate reliable comparison data.
The hatchet results were damning for the prosecution's theory but also created a puzzle. The head of the hatchet showed single-source female DNA. Ana included at 33 nonillion times more likely. Brian excluded. The handle showed a mixture of two contributors. Ana was the major contributor at 2.6 octillion times more likely. The second contributor was not suitable for comparison due to limited data. Brian was excluded from the first contributor.
If Brian used the hatchet to dismember Ana, why is his DNA not on it? The prosecution might argue he wore gloves. The defense will argue the absence of his DNA is consistent with their theory that Brian never used these tools violently, that he only handled them during disposal after finding Ana already dead.
The hacksaw told the same story as the hatchet. The blade showed single-source female DNA. Ana included at 30 nonillion times more likely. Brian excluded. The handle showed single-source female DNA as well. Ana included at 30 nonillion times more likely. Brian excluded. If Brian held this tool and used it, his DNA should be present somewhere. The handles of tools collect skin cells from hands. But Brian's profile was not found.
The white towel with red-brown stains, found in bag number two at 300 Forest Street, showed single-source female DNA. Ana included at 30 nonillion times more likely. Brian excluded. The hair sample from bag four showed the same: single-source female, Ana included at 30 nonillion, Brian excluded. The rug fragment with red-brown stain, bag five, showed single-source female, Ana included at 30 nonillion, Brian excluded.
The basement blood sample from 516 Chief Justice Cushing Highway, the Walshe home, showed a mixture of two contributors including male DNA. Ana was included at 15 nonillion times more likely. Brian was excluded. This is curious. The prosecution's theory places Brian in the basement, either killing Ana or processing her remains. Yet his DNA was not found in the basement blood.
The prosecution might argue that Brian was careful not to contaminate the scene with his own blood. But skin cells transfer through contact. If he was present when blood was deposited, some of his epithelial cells should have mixed with the blood. Their absence is another unexplained gap in the forensic evidence.
Under cross-examination, Tipton established the critical limitation of DNA evidence. Salem admitted that DNA testing cannot determine how or when biological material was deposited on an item. It cannot tell you whether the hacksaw was used against a person or merely came into contact with biological material through transfer. It cannot distinguish between blood deposited during violence and blood deposited during cleanup. The presence of DNA proves only that DNA is present. Everything else is inference.
Tipton pressed on the compactor issue. If items were pressed together in a bag, then that bag was compressed by mechanical force, biological material could transfer from one item to another. Salem agreed. The DNA on the hacksaw might have been deposited when it cut through flesh, or it might have transferred from a bloody towel that was pressed against it inside the compactor. The testing cannot tell the difference.
The prosecution will argue that the pattern of evidence makes innocent explanations implausible. Ana's DNA on the hacksaw blade and handle. Ana's DNA on the hatchet head. Ana's DNA on multiple towels, rug fragments, hair samples. Ana's DNA on tissue recovered from a dumpster. Brian's DNA inside the Tyvek suit and inside the slippers. The totality suggests dismemberment, not accidental transfer.
The defense will argue that the DNA evidence proves only what Brian has already admitted: he disposed of Ana's remains. His DNA is inside items because he wore them during disposal. Her DNA is on tools and textiles because her body was in contact with them. None of this proves he killed her. None of this explains the missing blood evidence in the bedroom. None of this eliminates the possibility that Ana died of natural causes and Brian's crimes began only after she was already dead.
The collision between DNA certainty and forensic gaps goes to the heart of what reasonable doubt means in a circumstantial evidence case.
Massachusetts law allows conviction for murder based entirely on circumstantial evidence. There is no requirement for an eyewitness, a confession, or even a body. If the circumstantial evidence is strong enough to eliminate reasonable doubt, a jury can convict. But the burden never shifts. The prosecution must prove every element beyond reasonable doubt. The defense does not have to prove anything.
The prosecution's circumstantial case is formidable. Brian Walshe's Google searches starting at 4:55 a.m. on January 1st show someone researching body decomposition, disposal methods, and cleanup techniques. His trips to Home Depot, Lowe's, and other stores show someone purchasing supplies consistent with cleanup and disposal. His lies to police about Ana's whereabouts show consciousness of guilt. The blood in the basement shows a crime scene. The DNA on tools shows implements of dismemberment. The tissue in dumpsters shows human remains.
Taken together, the prosecution argues, the evidence points to one conclusion: Brian killed Ana, dismembered her body, and scattered the pieces across multiple trash facilities. The Google searches prove premeditation. The purchases prove preparation. The lies prove cover-up. The forensic evidence proves the crime.
But circumstantial evidence cuts both ways. The same facts that support the prosecution's theory can support the defense's alternative explanation.
Brian has admitted to improper disposal of remains. He has pleaded guilty to that charge. He does not deny putting Ana's body in bags and throwing those bags in dumpsters. He does not deny the Google searches, the store purchases, the lies to police. He only denies that he killed her.
The defense theory is that Ana died suddenly and unexpectedly from natural causes. Brian found her dead. He panicked. Rather than call 911 and face an investigation that might reveal problems in their marriage, rather than risk losing custody of his children, rather than explain to police why his wife was dead under circumstances that might make him a suspect, he made a series of catastrophically bad decisions. He researched how to dispose of a body. He bought supplies. He dismembered her remains. He threw them away. He lied to everyone.
These are crimes. Serious crimes. But they are not murder.
The missing blood evidence supports this theory. If Ana was beaten to death in the bedroom, there should be blood evidence in the bedroom. Blood spatter from impact. Transfer stains on furniture. Droplets tracked through the house as the body was moved. The crime lab found none of this. Their equipment can detect twenty billionths of a gram. They found nothing.
The prosecution will argue that Brian cleaned up thoroughly. Hydrogen peroxide destroys blood evidence. The white discoloration noted in the upstairs bedroom might be evidence of cleaning. But the defense will counter: if Brian could clean the bedroom so thoroughly that no trace remained, why did he leave blood in the basement? Why did he leave DNA on the tools? If he was capable of perfect cleanup in one area, why was he so sloppy in others?
The answer might be that the bedroom was never a murder scene. Perhaps Ana died elsewhere in the house, or died in a way that did not involve blood spray. Perhaps she collapsed suddenly, unexpectedly, from a medical condition no one knew she had. Brian found her. He could not explain it. He could not face the consequences. So he made her disappear.
This alternative explanation does not require the jury to believe Brian is innocent. It requires them only to have reasonable doubt about whether he committed murder specifically. He could be guilty of everything else, all the disposal crimes, all the lies, all the obstruction, and still be not guilty of murder if Ana died before his crimes began.
The prosecution must prove murder beyond reasonable doubt. They must prove that Brian caused Ana's death, not just that he disposed of her remains. The DNA evidence proves disposal. The forensic gaps create doubt about murder. The jury must decide which evidence speaks louder.
Consider what the prosecution has proven and what they have not. They have proven that Ana Walshe is dead. The DNA evidence on the tissue recovered from the Swampscott dumpster confirms human remains matching Ana's genetic profile. They have proven that her body was dismembered. The DNA on the hacksaw and hatchet, tools consistent with dismemberment, matches Ana. They have proven that Brian participated in the disposal. His DNA inside the Tyvek suit and slippers places him wearing those items during contact with her biological material.
They have proven that Brian lied repeatedly to police. He claimed Ana left for the airport when she never did. He claimed he went to CVS and Whole Foods when investigators could not verify those trips. He told story after story, each contradicted by evidence. They have proven that someone, using devices in the Walshe home, conducted Google searches about body disposal starting at 4:55 a.m. on January 1st. They have proven that Brian purchased supplies consistent with cleanup and disposal at multiple stores in the days after Ana's disappearance.
What they have not proven is where Ana died, how Ana died, or when exactly she died. They have not proven that the Google searches occurred before Ana was dead rather than after. They have not proven that Brian struck the blows that killed her rather than finding her already deceased. They have not explained why the bedroom shows no blood evidence if that is where the murder occurred.
These are the gaps the defense will exploit. These are the spaces where reasonable doubt can live.
This is where my father's legacy becomes relevant. Steven M. Askin spent his career defending people the system had already convicted in the court of public opinion. He understood that the gap between what seems obvious and what can be proven beyond reasonable doubt is where justice lives or dies. The prosecution's theory seems obvious: Brian killed Ana. The Google searches, the purchases, the lies, the DNA, the dismemberment. Who else could it be?
But "who else could it be" is not the standard. The standard is whether the prosecution has proven, beyond reasonable doubt, that Brian committed murder. The defense does not have to prove Ana died of natural causes. They only have to create reasonable doubt about whether she was murdered.
My father was twice prosecuted by a system that believed questioning authority was itself a crime. The first time, in 1994, he refused to testify against his own clients after federal investigators had, in his view, violated the Fourth Amendment to obtain information. He stood on principle. He went to prison for contempt. The second time, in 2009, he was criminally convicted for teaching people their constitutional rights from a coffee shop. For helping Pro Se defendants understand how to stand up against a machine designed to crush them.
He taught me that the burden of proof is not a technicality. It is not a loophole for the guilty to escape through. It is the mechanism that protects the innocent from conviction based on assumptions, suspicions, and public outrage. Every defendant, no matter how unsympathetic, deserves to have the state prove its case. Every jury must be willing to acquit if the proof falls short, no matter how much they may believe the defendant probably did it.
Brian Walshe is deeply unsympathetic. He admits to dismembering his wife's body. He admits to scattering her remains across multiple trash facilities. He admits to lying to everyone, including police, about what happened. These are acts that revolt the conscience. But being revolting is not the same as being guilty of murder.
The missing blood evidence creates that doubt. The bedroom, the stairs, the living room, the kitchen, all negative despite equipment sensitive enough to find invisible traces. If the prosecution cannot explain where the alleged murder occurred, they cannot prove murder occurred.
The DNA evidence, for all its astronomical statistics, does not resolve this gap. DNA proves biological material was present. It does not prove how that material got there or when. It does not distinguish between a hacksaw used in murder and a hacksaw that contacted biological material during post-mortem disposal. The prosecution must connect the dots through inference. The defense must show the dots can be connected differently.
Consider the hatchet and hacksaw results more carefully. Both tools showed Ana's DNA on both the blade and handle. Both tools showed Brian excluded. If Brian used these tools to dismember Ana, his DNA should be present. The prosecution will say he wore gloves. Perhaps he did. But the absence is notable nonetheless.
Now consider the Tyvek suit and slippers. Both showed Brian's DNA on the interior, consistent with wearing them. Both showed Ana's DNA, consistent with contact with her remains. This evidence places Brian inside the protective gear during the disposal process. But it does not prove he was wearing them during any violence. He could have donned the suit after Ana was already dead, to protect himself during the grim work of dismemberment.
The distinction matters legally. Dismemberment after death is improper conveyance of remains, a crime Brian has pleaded guilty to. Dismemberment during or as part of the killing process is murder or mutilation of a corpse, different charges with different elements and different sentences.
This is the burden of proof in action. Not a formality. Not a technicality. The actual, functional requirement that the state prove its case rather than require the defendant to prove his innocence. Brian Walshe does not have to prove Ana died of natural causes. He does not have to explain the Google searches or justify the disposal. He only has to sit there, presumed innocent, while the prosecution attempts to eliminate every reasonable doubt.
After Day 7, reasonable doubts remain.
Seven days of testimony have established the shape of this case. The prosecution is building methodically, witness by witness, exhibit by exhibit. They have shown the timeline, from New Year's Eve dinner through the early morning Google searches through days of store visits and disposal trips. They have shown Brian's interviews with police, the lies that accumulated and contradicted each other. They have shown the forensic evidence, the blood in the basement, the DNA on the tools, the tissue in the dumpsters.
The wall of evidence is substantial. But the defense has found holes.
Day 6 saw forensic scientist Matthew Sheehan admit that investigators found no blood evidence in the upstairs bedroom despite ripping up the flooring. Day 7 saw Christopher Sheen confirm that no blood spatter was found anywhere in the home and that the testing equipment sensitive enough to find twenty billionths of a gram detected nothing outside the basement. The prosecution's theory requires a violent murder in the home. The forensic evidence does not support a murder scene anywhere except possibly the basement.
The DNA evidence confirms what Brian has already admitted. He disposed of Ana's remains. His DNA is inside the slippers and Tyvek suit because he wore them. Her DNA is on the tools and textiles because her body was in contact with them. The prosecution argues this proves dismemberment. The defense argues it proves disposal. Both are consistent with the DNA evidence. Only the murder charge distinguishes them.
Consider the full pattern of DNA results. Ana's DNA was found on the hacksaw blade, hacksaw handle, hatchet head, towels, rug fragments, and hair samples. In each of these cases, the profile was single-source female, meaning Ana and only Ana contributed to those samples. Brian was excluded from all of them.
Brian's DNA was found inside the slippers and inside the Tyvek suit, mixed with Ana's DNA. This places him wearing those items during contact with her biological material. But his DNA was not found on the tools. If he wielded the hacksaw and hatchet, his skin cells should have been present. They were not.
The prosecution might explain this by arguing Brian wore gloves throughout the dismemberment process. Gloves would prevent his DNA from being deposited on tool handles. But the slippers showed his DNA on the interior, consistent with wearing them without protection. If he was careful enough to wear gloves to protect against DNA on tools, why was he not careful enough to wear socks to protect against DNA in slippers?
These inconsistencies are not proof of innocence. But they are exactly the kind of details defense attorneys exploit to create reasonable doubt. The prosecution's theory requires jurors to believe Brian was sophisticated enough to wear gloves during dismemberment but unsophisticated enough to leave DNA inside his footwear. It requires them to believe he cleaned the bedroom so thoroughly that no trace remained but left blood visible in the basement. It requires them to accept selective competence in covering his tracks.
The pattern emerging is one of certainty about what happened after Ana died and doubt about how she died. The prosecution has proven, beyond any serious question, that Ana's body was dismembered. The DNA evidence places her biological material on tools consistent with that process. They have proven that Brian disposed of her remains in trash bags scattered across multiple facilities. The tissue recovered from the Swampscott dumpster confirms human remains were present. They have proven that Brian lied to police repeatedly about Ana's whereabouts and his own activities.
What they have not proven, at least not yet, is where in the Cohasset home Ana allegedly died, or that she died from violence rather than some other cause. The forensic gaps are not minor omissions. They are the absence of expected evidence from the prosecution's own theory. If Ana was beaten to death, there should be blood at the scene of the beating. There is not.
For the victim's family, sitting in that courtroom day after day, the scientific precision must feel like cruelty. Ana was a person, not a DNA profile. She was a mother who structured her entire life around her children. She was a daughter whose mother wrote a letter praising Brian for saving her life just eighteen months before he allegedly took Ana's. She was a friend who called at midnight to ring in the new year. Reducing her to likelihood ratios and nanogram measurements does not honor who she was.
But the courtroom is not a memorial service. It is a mechanism for determining legal guilt. The question is not whether Ana deserves justice, she does, or whether her death was tragic, it was. The question is whether the prosecution can prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that Brian Walshe committed murder. The DNA evidence and the forensic gaps will both factor into that determination.
Ana Walshe deserved better than to end up in trash bags. She deserved better than to have her remains scattered across dumpsters like garbage. She deserved better than a husband who, at minimum, disposed of her body in the most degrading way imaginable. Whatever else is true about this case, that truth is undeniable. Ana deserved better.
But the question before the jury is not whether Brian treated Ana with dignity in death. He did not. The question is whether he caused her death in the first place. The disposal crimes are proven. The murder charge remains contested.
For Brian, sitting at the defense table, the stakes are life and death in their own way. First-degree murder in Massachusetts carries a mandatory life sentence without parole. He has three sons who have already lost their mother. A conviction means they lose their father too, forever. Whatever Brian did in the days after January 1st, whatever terrible choices he made, his children's future hangs on whether the jury believes he also committed the original sin that set everything in motion.
The prosecution has not yet rested. More witnesses will come. More evidence will be presented. The state will likely address the forensic gaps through expert testimony about cleaning and evidence destruction. They will argue the totality of circumstances proves murder even if no single piece of evidence is conclusive. They will ask the jury to use common sense: who researches body disposal before anyone is dead? Who buys cleaning supplies and tarps and hatchets? Who lies to police about a wife who simply disappeared?
The defense will present their case when the prosecution rests. They have promised testimony about sudden unexplained death. They may call medical experts to explain how healthy adults can die without warning, without violence, without leaving any evidence of what killed them. They will argue that Brian's terrible choices after Ana's death do not prove he caused that death. Panic, poor judgment, and criminal disposal are not the same as murder.
The HomeGoods testimony at the end of Day 7 added another thread to the prosecution's tapestry. Store value cards linked to Ana Walshe were used in Massachusetts on January 2nd and 4th to purchase candles, rugs, towels, and bath mats. The cards originated from returns made in Baltimore and Washington, D.C. in late December. The prosecution is suggesting Brian used his wife's store credits to buy replacement items for things he had disposed of or bloodied.
The defense notes that families routinely share store credit cards. There is nothing inherently suspicious about a wife's store credit being used by a husband. The purchases themselves, candles and rugs and towels, are ordinary household items that any family might buy after the holidays. Without more context, the HomeGoods evidence proves only that purchases were made, not that they were made to cover up a crime.
The jury will eventually retire to deliberate. Twelve citizens who knew nothing about this case before they were summoned will decide what happened in the early hours of January 1st, 2023. They will weigh the DNA statistics against the missing blood evidence. They will consider the Google searches and the forensic gaps. They will try to understand numbers like thirty nonillion and absences like the clean bedroom floor.
Whatever they decide, three boys are growing up without their mother. That tragedy is complete regardless of verdict. The only question is whether they grow up without their father too.
The prosecution will need to address the forensic gaps before they rest. The missing blood evidence in the bedroom is a significant problem for their theory. Expect testimony about how cleaning affects evidence, how hydrogen peroxide destroys blood, how a determined killer could eliminate traces. But the defense will counter: why was the basement not cleaned as thoroughly? Why were the tools not cleaned? The selective cleaning argument cuts both ways.
The prosecution may bring in experts on crime scene cleanup. They may argue that the pattern of evidence actually makes sense: the murder occurred quickly, possibly with minimal blood, and Brian focused his cleaning efforts on the immediate scene. The basement was a processing location rather than a murder scene, which is why evidence remained there. The tools were discarded rather than cleaned because Brian believed they would never be found in the trash system.
This theory has logic to it. If you believe your victim will never be found, you might not bother to clean tools you plan to throw away. You might focus your cleaning efforts on the areas of your home that will be seen rather than the tools you are depositing in dumpsters. The prosecution will argue that Brian's disposal scheme assumed the trash would be compacted and incinerated, destroying all evidence. He did not anticipate investigators tracing his movements and recovering bags before they were destroyed.
Watch for how the prosecution explains the DNA pattern on the tools. Brian's DNA was excluded from the hacksaw and hatchet. If he used those tools to dismember Ana, his biological material should be present. The prosecution might argue gloves, but the absence is notable. The defense will emphasize it.
The basement blood sample is another point of focus. It showed a mixture of two contributors including male DNA. Ana was included. Brian was excluded. If Brian was present during whatever deposited that blood, his DNA should arguably be there. Its absence might suggest the blood was deposited when Brian was not present, or that he was extremely careful about contamination in that specific location while being careless elsewhere.
The Tyvek suit results deserve attention. Brian's DNA was found on the interior sleeve cuff at 100 trillion times more likely. Ana's DNA was also present. This suggests Brian wore the suit while in contact with Ana's biological material. But one sample from the interior right sleeve showed limited support for Brian's exclusion. The defense may argue inconsistency in the results creates doubt about interpretation.
Salem explained that when there is limited data available, results can seem contradictory. A true contributor might show weak exclusion if their DNA contribution was too small to generate reliable data. But the defense can spin this as uncertainty in the science. If one sample weakly excludes Brian while another strongly includes him, how reliable are the conclusions? This is the kind of nuance that can confuse juries and create doubt.
When the defense presents their case, watch for their sudden death expert. They have promised testimony that healthy adults can die suddenly without warning. This is medically accurate but statistically rare. The defense needs an expert who will say it is not just possible but plausible in Ana's case. They need to give the jury a medical framework for believing their theory, not just a legal argument that the prosecution has not eliminated the possibility.
Sudden unexplained death in adults is a real phenomenon. Cardiac arrhythmias, pulmonary embolisms, aneurysms, and other conditions can kill without warning. Autopsies sometimes fail to identify a cause of death even when one existed. The defense will need to establish that Ana could have died this way, that it is a realistic alternative to the prosecution's theory of murder.
But the prosecution will push back hard. They will point to the Google searches. If Ana died of natural causes, why was Brian researching body disposal before anyone knew she was dead? Why was he searching for "how long before a body starts to smell" at 4:55 a.m. on New Year's Day? Why was he researching "how to dispose of a 115 pound woman's body" if he was dealing with an unexpected natural death?
The defense will argue that the searches came after Ana died, not before. Brian found her dead and panicked. He did not know what to do. He searched for information because he was trying to figure out how to make the problem disappear. The searches prove panic and bad judgment, not premeditation.
This timeline argument is critical. The prosecution says the searches prove premeditation because they occurred so early in the morning, before Ana could plausibly have been found dead of natural causes. The defense says the searches prove panic because Brian was desperately trying to figure out what to do after finding his wife dead.
The question of whether Brian testifies looms over everything. He has the absolute right to remain silent. The prosecution cannot comment on his silence, and the jury cannot draw inference of guilt from it. But if Brian does not testify, the jury never hears his explanation. They never hear him describe finding Ana dead. They never hear him explain why he made the choices he made. The defense is betting that the presumption of innocence and burden of proof are enough without his testimony. That is a significant gamble.
If Brian testifies, he opens himself to cross-examination. The prosecution would challenge every detail of his story. They would confront him with the Google searches, the store purchases, the lies to police. They would ask him to explain how Ana died, when she died, why he did not call 911, why he dismembered her body, why he threw her in dumpsters. Every answer would be scrutinized for inconsistency. Every hesitation would be noted. The risk of testifying may outweigh the benefit of telling his story.
Pay attention to the jury during closing arguments. After days of scientific testimony, they will need the lawyers to help them synthesize what they have heard. The prosecution will paint a picture of premeditated murder followed by calculated disposal. The defense will paint a picture of sudden tragedy followed by panicked bad decisions. Both pictures fit the evidence. The jury must decide which one they believe beyond reasonable doubt.
The standard jury instruction on reasonable doubt will be crucial. The judge will tell them that proof beyond reasonable doubt does not mean proof beyond all possible doubt. It means proof that leaves them firmly convinced of guilt. It means proof that they would be willing to rely on in the most important affairs of their own lives. If they have a reasonable doubt based on the evidence or lack of evidence, they must acquit.
The forensic gaps are reasonable doubts. The missing blood evidence in the bedroom is a reasonable doubt. The absence of Brian's DNA on the murder weapons is a reasonable doubt. The question is whether the jury will consider these doubts or whether the weight of circumstantial evidence will overwhelm them.
Watch for how each side frames the DNA statistics. The prosecution will emphasize the astronomical numbers: thirty nonillion, twelve quintillion, numbers too large to comprehend. They will argue these statistics prove identity beyond any reasonable question. The defense will emphasize what the statistics cannot tell you: how the DNA got there, when it was deposited, whether the tools were used in violence or merely came into contact with biological material during disposal.
The jury instructions on circumstantial evidence will also be important. The judge will explain that circumstantial evidence can be just as powerful as direct evidence, but that if the circumstantial evidence is consistent with innocence, the jury must accept the innocent interpretation. The defense will argue the forensic pattern is consistent with post-mortem disposal rather than murder. The prosecution will argue the totality of evidence eliminates that interpretation.
You have seen what the jury saw. DNA statistics so large they require words most people have never used. Forensic gaps so significant they undermine the prosecution's crime scene theory. Tools covered in Ana's DNA with Brian excluded. A Tyvek suit with both their DNA on the inside.
Now I ask you what the jury will eventually ask themselves:
Do the astronomical DNA statistics prove murder, or do they only prove disposal, something Brian has already admitted?
Does the absence of blood evidence in the bedroom create reasonable doubt about whether Ana was killed there, or is it explained by thorough cleaning?
If Brian used the hacksaw and hatchet to dismember his wife, why is his DNA not on them?
Why would someone research body disposal at 4:55 a.m. if their spouse had just died of natural causes? Or does panic explain the searches as well as premeditation does?
Can you convict someone of murder based on what happened after the death, or must the prosecution prove what happened at the moment of death?
Rewatch the key moments. Watch the defense establish no blood spatter anywhere in the home. Watch the forensic scientist admit his equipment can detect twenty billionths of a gram yet found nothing upstairs. Watch the DNA analyst deliver the hacksaw blade results: Ana included, Brian excluded. Watch her admit DNA cannot tell you how or when material was deposited.
Listen to how the lawyers frame the evidence. The prosecution will tell you the pattern proves murder. The defense will tell you the pattern proves only disposal. Both are using the same evidence. Both are making reasonable arguments. The difference is burden of proof.
The prosecution has scientific certainty about whose DNA was found. The defense has scientific certainty about what was not found. Both are true. Both are documented. The jury must reconcile them.
Think about what reasonable doubt means to you. It does not mean any possible doubt. It does not mean doubt based on speculation or sympathy. It means doubt based on reason, doubt that would make you hesitate before acting on an important decision in your own life. Do you have that kind of doubt after Day 7?
Consider the three boys who lost their mother. They are the silent victims in this courtroom. Whatever happened between their parents in the early hours of January 1st, those children did nothing wrong. They deserve to know the truth. But they also deserve a justice system that operates fairly, that does not convict their father unless the evidence proves guilt beyond reasonable doubt. The outcome that serves those children best is the outcome that is actually true.
What would you do with numbers too large to comprehend and absences too significant to ignore?
This is the justice system operating as designed. Burden of proof. Presumption of innocence. The right to confront witnesses. The requirement that the state prove its case rather than the defendant prove his innocence. These are not technicalities. They are the mechanisms that separate justice from vengeance, that protect the innocent at the cost of sometimes failing to convict the guilty.
Ana Walshe deserves truth. Her sons deserve truth. The system promises to deliver it through this process, imperfect as it is. Watch with me. Ask the hard questions. Demand that the system operate fairly, for everyone, even when the evidence seems overwhelming, even when the defendant is unsympathetic, even when our hearts break for a mother who will never come home.
That is what justice requires. That is what my father taught. That is what we watch for, together.
The trial continues. More witnesses will come. More evidence will be examined. The prosecution will try to close the forensic gaps. The defense will try to widen them. Eventually, the jury will deliberate. Eventually, a verdict will come. Until then, we watch. We question. We demand that the system operate as it should.
The question that haunts this case is one that may never be fully answered: What happened in the early hours of January 1st, 2023? Ana Walshe was alive at 1:30 a.m. when the dinner party ended. By 4:55 a.m., someone was searching for information about body disposal. Somewhere in those three and a half hours, Ana went from a living, breathing mother of three to a problem that needed to be solved.
The prosecution says Brian killed her during that window. They say the Google searches prove he was already thinking about disposal, which means he knew she was dead, which means he caused her death. The defense says Ana died during that window, but not by Brian's hand. They say she collapsed suddenly, unexpectedly, from causes that may never be known because her remains were too degraded for autopsy by the time they were recovered.
Both theories fit the evidence. Both explain the timeline. Both account for the disposal. The difference is in what Brian did during those three and a half hours. Did he kill his wife and then research how to get away with it? Or did he find his wife dead and then research how to make the problem disappear?
The jury will have to decide. They will have to look at the DNA statistics and the forensic gaps. They will have to consider the Google searches and the missing blood evidence. They will have to weigh the astronomical certainty of whose biological material was found against the unexplained absence of evidence where the prosecution says a murder occurred.
And whatever they decide, three boys will live with the consequences. Three boys who have already lost their mother. Three boys who may lose their father too. Three boys whose lives were shattered before they were old enough to understand why. Whatever the jury concludes about DNA statistics and forensic gaps, about burden of proof and reasonable doubt, about astronomical numbers and unexplained absences, those three boys deserve the truth. They deserve a system that operates fairly, that follows its own rules, that protects the innocent even when public opinion demands conviction. They deserve justice, real justice, not vengeance dressed in legal robes.
Justice is a process. We are in the middle of it now. And we will watch every step.