"A couple of detectives snooping around is hardly calming to a weapons program already reeling from espionage allegations plus an investigation into concealment of cost overruns ... "The General Accounting Office has been investigating the mis-administration of the billion-dollar project's funds. "Then a lab designer who pointed out flaws --correcting which would cost millions of dollars-- turns up dead ..." LIVERMORE ENGINEER'S MYSTERIOUS DEATH Investigators in the brutal slaying of Lee Scott Hall --who found a flaw in a billion-dollar project-- are exasperated by the lab's lack of cooperation by Mike Weiss San Francisco Chronicle, February 15, 2000 Frustrated Livermore police detectives are accusing Lawrence Livermore Laboratory of stonewalling an investigation into the slaying of a reclusive designer who uncovered a serious flaw in the lab's troubled $1 billion weapons testing program. Lee Scott Hall, 54, was discovered beaten and repeatedly stabbed in the bedroom of his Livermore home October 20 by two co-workers. Hall was a lead designer on the $1.2 billion National Ignition Facility, which when completed will monitor the nation's nuclear stockpile without the need for underground testing. For a year, Hall had been trying to bring attention to a miscalculation in a multimillion-dollar installation of super laser beams that is part of the ignition facility. But only in the weeks leading up to his death had the laboratory acknowledged his findings and begun to deal with them. Officials are searching for a motive in the crime. "Is it personally related?" asks Livermore Det. Sgt. Scott Robertson. "Family related? Job related? Or just some criminal? That's what we haven't been able to determine. But if you live by yourself, and you really have no family, and you don't associate with your neighbors, and the only associations you have are at work -- well, it's a real whodunit." Robertson and his partner, Det. Charlie Garrison, have eliminated some possibilities yet run into many dead ends in the life of the design engineer, who made no toll calls in all of 1999 and sent no personal e-mails, officials say. They have recently focused on his work but are frustrated at what they say is a lack of cooperation by the lab. "We are not getting the whole picture from the lab," said Garrison. Lab and Department of Energy officials deny that they are stonewalling the investigation. "The Livermore police have given us no formal connection between Mr. Hall's death and the lab -- they just haven't done that," said lab spokeswoman Susan Houghton. "We have cooperated with them at every level, and we will continue to cooperate. "Mr. Hall was very well-liked, and his death was a terrible loss to the project. We want to see it resolved. But a direct connection to his work at NIF? The connection is just not there." Some parts of the ignition facility are, of course, top secret, and a couple of detectives snooping around the lab taking fingerprints and administering FBI lie detector tests is hardly calming to a nuclear weapons program already reeling from espionage allegations at Los Alamos and an investigation into concealment of cost overruns and delays at Livermore. Vern Davis, a friend and colleague who found Hall's body, says the reluctance of the lab to fully cooperate is right in character. "That's typical because the lab is a very quiet, secretive place," says Davis, who works in procurement at the lab. "Most of the folks who work in Lee's area are introverted because of the nature of the work they do. They're immersed in their design activities. These engineers and scientists are dedicated -- that's why they work seven days a week." If the lab is not cooperating, Davis said, "it's because they don't have to. What's happening is the (police) investigation is trying to get into the problems that NIF may have had. That's the thing the lab doesn't want misconstrued. Like saying that Lee found the problem." The error was first discovered in the fall of 1998. "We're building the (laser) beam paths that go into the target chambers," said Richard Foley, the project engineer and Hall's boss. Hall found a 5-degree error in the rotation of one of the 192 beams in the enormously complex research and development project. "The optics people said it wouldn't have any effect," said Foley. "They sort of ignored Hall," said Det. Garrison. Others familiar with the investigation go even further -- they say Hall was actually being blamed for the error he was instrumental in uncovering, putting him under enormous stress. "They said, 'We've got a handle on it,'" Garrison said. "And then they realized they didn't. They finally came to realize it weeks before he was killed. "But we didn't learn that," the frustrated investigator said, "until real recently," about four months after the slaying. Foley said: "In mid-September the optics people found that the problem was a little more severe than they thought. They said, 'We've got to fix it.' Lee worked with a team of us to answer what we had to do. "It was Friday afternoon," October 15, "right after our very last (team) meeting when Lee was alive," said Foley. "He said, 'See you Monday morning.' And that was the very last time I saw him alive." Added Garrison: "He said, 'See you Monday' ... And then he was killed. And there's more to it, too, and I just can't comment on it." Because Hall failed to show up for work, Foley and Davis decided to check up on him. When they reached Hall's brown stucco three-bedroom home on Iris Way on the morning of October 20, they found the door unlocked. There were things amiss that they did not notice but that would soon become clues. The side gate, for instance, was ajar. Hall was a fastidious bachelor who had lived alone for years and always did things the same way: He kept the gate closed. Days later, a neighbor told police he had heard the gravel at the side of the house crunching at 1 a.m. on October 18 -- close to the time when the Alameda County coroner's office would say Hall was killed. More mysterious was the location of Hall's car, a 1992 Acura Vigor that, according to neighbors, he unfailingly parked in his garage. It was found a block away on Lilac Way. In it were his wallet, from which nothing apparently had been removed, and his lab security ID -- but no keys. The keys have never been found. Why and how the car got there has baffled the detectives, although they say it is not unusual for lab employees to leave their badges and wallets in their cars at work or in their garages. Foley and Davis went into the house calling their friend's name. Neither noticed Hall's glasses, without which he had trouble seeing, in the kitchen. They passed through the living room, where the television was on, and into the master bedroom. Hall's body was sprawled on the floor, almost face-down. He wore shorts, a T-shirt and one slipper -- the other lay nearby. There was some blood, but the bedroom was not in great disarray. Both men thought at first that he might have fallen and struck his head on a bedside table. They called 911. Strangest of all was how the bedroom gave no signs of a great struggle, considering what the coroner would determine had befallen Hall. He had been viciously and repeatedly beaten. Bruises and scrapes covered his body. His face was mysteriously scratched, as if whoever had beaten him had worn a ring or perhaps an abrasive glove. A contusion on his right temple may have come from a blow that knocked him unconscious. Another blow broke his Adam's apple. But the assailant did not stop after the beating. Using a knife, or some other implement with a long blade -- the weapon has not been found -- the assailant stabbed Hall again and again -- 10 times. One of Hall's kidneys and his liver were perforated, his heart nearly severed. One thrust ran all the way through his body. "The guy had an enemy," said one investigator. The unlocked doors, the presence of a small amount of alcohol in Hall's bloodstream and other factors seemed to indicate that Hall had been at ease with whoever murdered him. "He probably knew his killer," says Robertson. Robertson and Garrison carted away a great deal of physical evidence that they thought might yield fingerprints or DNA material, and they set to work to find a motive for who might have killed him They discovered that he had been an introvert who had had two short-lived marriages, who did not even return calls from his grown son, Michael Stouder, who rang his dad from time to time from his home in Portland, Ore., where he is a real estate appraiser. "We were fairly distant, to tell you the truth," says Stouder. "Not because of anything. But my parents divorced when I was pretty young. It was a long time since I saw him, one time in high school. I'm 29." In talking to his father's co-workers, golf and bowling buddies, Stouder found a compartmentalized life. The bulky design engineer had a 10-handicap on the Springtown golf course behind his house. "The people at work didn't know the golf people ... People worked with him and did not even know that other people they worked with knew him, too." Stouder had only recently begun reaching out to his father, sending him photos of his two small children. "I guess we thought we had the rest of our lives to get to know each other." The detectives interviewed Stouder, and he voluntarily submitted to a polygraph test. Hall had left no will, but a six-figure estate is in probate and will be coming to his son, who has sold his dad's house. He is not a suspect, say the police. The police did not find anything of value missing from Hall's home, so there is no reason to think he was the victim of a robbery gone amok. Although he enjoyed gambling in card rooms and sometimes stayed in Reno, Hall was not in debt and his bank accounts were intact, so there is no reason to believe that his gambling had put him in a precarious situation. He did not subscribe to a pornography channel, nor did he have anything in his home that indicated his sexual preferences or practices. The police thoroughly examined that aspect of his life without turning up a lead or clue. There was an unopened package of condoms in the headboard of his bed. Yet the nature of the attack on him, and its duration -- it takes a long time to hit and stab someone that many times -- suggest to the investigators a highly emotional killer or killers. The FBI is preparing a profile of the killer. Yesterday, Livermore police got back the result of DNA testing on substances other than Hall's found at the scene. "We now have DNA results and have identified gender," Garrison said. He would not divulge whether a man or woman killed Hall, however. "What if there's more than one killer?" he said. Earlier, Garrison had said the crime was "consistent with a crime of passion. It could have been personally related, a relationship." But Hall, as far as they know, was not in a relationship. "And it could have been work-related." Livermore scientists were aware as early as January 1998 that technical snags might delay completion of the National Ignition Facility and inflate its $1.2 billion price tag. But when Energy Secretary Bill Richardson came to Livermore last June for a gala celebration of the superlaser's progress, he was told the project was within budget and on time. It was not until September that the lab revealed substantial delays and extra costs that could reach $350 million. An enraged Richardson ordered an Energy Department investigation to find out who had withheld the bad news. He assigned his advisory board to study how to bring the project back on track. The General Accounting Office is also investigating the administration of the project's funds. Then a lab designer who had unearthed flaws that would result in delays and millions of dollars of additional costs turned up slain. "There are folks out there who are affected by what Lee did -- Lee discovered a problem," said Garrison. "And as a result, a co-worker could have suffered." The laboratory, he said, is not giving investigators the cooperation they need to see whether they can find a co-worker with a motivation to kill Hall. "There are co-workers who refused to submit to a polygraph," Garrison said. Among them is Hall's boss, Foley. Has Garrison ruled out Foley as a suspect? "I haven't ruled anybody out. Except for some." Foley acknowledges that he refused to take the polygraph because "it's highly subjective." "I've answered all the questions Garrison asked me," he said. "Several people have subjected themselves (to the polygraphs) and have said it was a grueling several hours of questioning." The police also lifted palm prints and fingertip prints from Hall's house that did not belong to him, and have administered what they call "elimination fingerprinting" to those co-workers who voluntarily cooperate. They would be pleased if the laboratory turned over the prints of every employee who came into contact with Hall. But since the Wen Ho Lee espionage scandal at the Los Alamos laboratory and the uproar at Livermore when scientists were asked to take national security polygraphs, the police have met with resistance from some employees. "Some co-workers," said Garrison, "only answer the questions we ask, they won't elaborate." One lab source said the police are misconstruing the reluctance: "The Department of Energy has told the lab to shut up about NIF. It's very reasonable if the management of the program is being very cautious, having nothing to do with the murder." The detectives say they are seeking more information on Hall's role in uncovering the rotation error, the setback it caused the already troubled project, and who if anybody suffered. But Foley said the police have never "asked me what was the management structure of the project." Foley and others say that in a research and development environment such as that surrounding the ignition facility, uncovering problems is routine, and rewarded as good science. "That's how science thrives," says spokeswoman Susan Houghton. In fact, Hall received a substantial raise weeks before his death. In November, the group with which Hall had been working concluded "how to fix the problem," says Foley. "We expect to go out and buy the (new) parts in the next four or five months." The police, however, don't buy it. "We think Lee Hall is the only one who knew to this day exactly what the problem is and its fix," says Garrison. So frustrated have the police become that in December they tried to reach out to Energy Secretary Richardson himself. "We wanted assistance," says Garrison. "We're not skeptical, but on the other hand we're told that he discovers a major problem that he had tried to bring forth for a year ... and it wasn't until a month before his death they said, 'Hey, we do have a problem.' " Robertson did get to talk with Jim Turner, manager of the Oakland Operations Office of the Energy Department, who provided him with some names and numbers. "I can state unequivocally that we will cooperate fully with the Police Department -- a murder investigation is extremely serious," says Turner's spokesman, John Belluardo. "And if they need to speak to Secretary Richardson, he will make himself available." Of course, secrecy is not the only impediment to the investigation. Hall's obsessively private, compartmentalized life is also a barrier. "I did not know until after Lee's death that he had a son," said his boss, Foley. "I never knew he had been married, let alone twice. I learned more about Lee after his death than I ever knew working with him for four years." Detectives also examined the hard drives in Hall's home and work computers but nothing significant to the investigation. Foley also said: "I didn't know anybody who disliked the guy." But somebody did -- passionately. Garrison and Robertson say they are asking for no more than full cooperation by the lab and the Energy Department in determining whether someone, or more than one person, who worked with Hall was negatively affected by his unearthing of a design flaw in a billion-dollar project. "Is it connected to his death?" Garrison asks. "I can't tell you for sure ... Maybe there are some things others above his co-workers don't want to be made public."
