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  “Accessory before?”

  “More than that. Art was directly responsible for the murder. I think.”

  Brent sighed and rolled his eyes, finally allowed that behavior after a day of watching himself on orders of The Duchess. “C’mon, Liv. Even if we find this Art, how can we prove anything? A bunch of drunks and whores in a bar? And they never heard any conversations anyway, according to what you’ve told me.”

  Liv felt herself becoming annoyed. She almost said “Those drunks and whores are my friends,” but thought better of it.

  Brent paused, then said “Look; sure I’d like to prosecute ‘Art’, if he exists, but that would be later, if at all. It’s not going to slow me down in the Dukes trial. If the jury imposes the death penalty, then you’ll just have to get more out of Charley before he gets the needle. Execution could take years, you know, and I don’t care if it does; I’ll have my conviction.”

  “Could be just months,” Liv rejoined, “with so little precedent, who knows what could happen?”

  A few minutes of silence ensued.

  Brent’s phone rang and he had a whispered conversation. He looked up. “A reporter,” he said. “I need to leave.”

  Liv said goodbye and went home, couldn’t sleep.

  Brent left for his interview. He smiled at the thought of JTJ; by reputation she was just as ambitious as he was. Maybe more so. They should get on well.

  Immediately after the first day of the trial was adjourned, JTJ and her crew had found an unoccupied room in the courthouse and viewed the day’s camera “tapes.”

  Per the judge’s rules, nothing could be broadcast until the entire trial was over, but she could comment on the air. What was there to say? Mostly background, set the stage for anyone who hadn’t been following the preparations for the trial in the news. But that was approximately nobody in this town where there hadn’t been a murder in sixteen years, and the first murder here, ever, where the victim hadn’t deserved his fate.

  It was seven o’clock by this time. JTJ pulled her phone out of her purse and called Brent, hoping he would be available to talk that evening. He agreed to be available before she had a chance to ask him. When? How about now?

  The interview produced nothing she could call breaking news, just a reiteration of what Brent had said in his opening statement. But the interview was broadcast nonetheless, with JTJ’s astute and incisive commentary. At least the webV station would bill it as astute and incisive, without much consideration of what those two words could possibly mean.

  As Brent left the meeting he realized he had found JTJ attractive. Was it mutual? Certainly, Brent felt. Who could resist?

  Day Two of the trial began with a request to the judge, since the camera crew was having technical problems, could the day’s session be postponed until these problems could be solved, or as the lead cameraman put it, “rectified”?

  DuCasse immediately said “no,” and asked if all three cameras were inoperable. The lead cameraman said no, only one, but it was important to have three cameras on, to ensure the entire blah blah, angles blah blah and so on, these are students you know and need the experience, until DuCasse cut him off, not an inappropriate metaphor in the circumstances.

  “No,” she said again, and “One more complaint about an equipment problem and there will be no more cameras in the courtroom. Fix it if you can, or go on with whatever you have that works, but don’t tell me about it and don’t make any noise or raise one more irrelevant issue or out you go!”

  JTJ, who was seated near the cameras, was delighted. She now had her lead for the evening news report: JUDGE CLAMPS DOWN, another nice physical metaphor.

  The courtroom was called to order and the prosecution presented its case, taking all of the court’s day. Brent trooped seven eye-witnesses to the stand, one after another, and asked them in excruciating detail, second by second, what they saw and heard.

  First, Barnes’ staff who had been on the platform with him testified and then, one by one, those who’d come to hear him and were close enough to see Dukes fire a weapon. Carefully, he drew out witnesses’ observations. It was simple: Charley Wayne Dukes had shot, with apparent premeditation and without any hint of a reason anyone could discern, their very own Congressman, a man who had a brilliant future ahead of him. Senator, very likely, and then who knows? Perhaps President! One of Pennsylvania’s own, a local boy universally beloved, quarterbacked his junior high football team. And there was more, piled higher and deeper. The jury seemed to take it all in and nod at the most heart-wrenching parts.

  Liv’s crosses established that, although Dukes had drawn and pointed his gun, and there were gunshots, these witnesses couldn’t testify it was Charley whose shot had actually hit the Congressman a fatal blow. Most of these witnesses, in fact, hadn’t been looking at Charley until after at least the first two shots had been fired.

  Liv saw the witnesses had obviously been prepped, leaving little wiggle room for the defense, and no inconsistent testimony to exploit. She did make the point with each witness, the entire shooting, from Barnes extending his hand to Charley turning away, could not have taken more than about four seconds, perhaps six at most. Are you sure your memory of the event could possibly be as precise as your testimony indicates? Most of the witnesses said yes, it could. She was able to throw doubt on the reliability of some of them, especially because a few seemed confused by the number of shots: two, three, or four, maybe more. But Liv couldn’t get any of them to suggest what might have happened, if not the events the prosecution was alleging.

  She forced each witness to admit they weren’t actually an eye-witness to the shooting. “And even if you saw Dukes fire, you don’t know for a fact that his shots struck Congressman Barnes, much less killed him. Do you?”

  But since Liv had no credible theory of how Barnes could have been shot by anyone other than Charley, she didn’t feel she’d made much headway.

  Brent was calling his eighth witness when Judge DuCasse interrupted him. Enough, she said, was enough. And it’s getting late in the day. All the court was hearing was the same account of events over and over, and the same cross over and over.

  Brent didn’t contest the judge especially forcefully, and he struck from the witness list all those who’d had been in the crowd that day, but hadn’t yet testified. Liv did not object.

  But he did make the point that it was important to hear from several other witnesses, especially including Jerry Sullivan, Barnes’ security man; Scott Gardner, the Grantwood chief of police; and a psychiatrist. The judge agreed they could be heard, without any special process since they were already on the witness list. Again, Liv did not object.

  First, Nielsen called Dr. Jeremy Lloyd, a Ph.D. + M.D. psychiatrist (see what a big trial budget can get you, Liv observed). The psychiatrist testified he had observed the defendant in the course of one day of normal activities at the jail, e.g., eating, sitting around during recreation hour, falling into line when ordered to do so, being locked up, etc.

  “And did you observe any behavior, that in your professional opinion, would indicate the defendant was mentally handicapped, as the defense has averred in their opening statement?”

  “No,” the doctor said.

  “Or otherwise abnormal?”

  “No.”

  There were several more questions, circling around the question of Charley’s ability or inability to think clearly about the crime he allegedly committed. Then Brent hit the proverbial home run with his final question: “So are you testifying, Dr. Lloyd, that Charley Dukes had enough intelligence to understand he shouldn’t kill people?”

  Liv’s objection went unheard in the courtroom’s hubbub.

  Liv’s cross consisted of establishing that observing a day in jail, where nothing abnormal is found is no proof of normality, since being in jail was itself abnormal. Liv got Dr. Lloyd to say behavior in jail is not necessarily an indicator of behavior in any other environment. The witness smilingly agreed with Liv on all her
points, to the accompaniment of Brent’s scowling face.

  Liv had won that battle, but she wasn’t winning the war.

  Jerry Sullivan then took the stand, seating himself firmly in the chair with an attitude of calm unconcern. He was sworn in.

  “Now, Mr. Sullivan,” Brent began, you were part of Congressman Barnes’ security staff?

  “That’s right,” said Sullivan, looking imperturbable. “I was in charge of his security.”

  “And how many other officers are there in your security team?”

  “Depends on when and where. I’m the only full-time security. It’s my job, when I’m hired, to bring in extra help as needed. Mostly off-duty police, no trouble finding guys who’d like to earn a few extra bucks.”

  “And, are you a sworn officer?

  “Was,” said Sullivan, preening slightly. “In Scranton. I’ve been retired three years now. Three and a half.”

  Brent asked Sullivan to describe where he was and what he saw.

  “And then,” Brent concluded a few minutes later, “where were you just prior to and at the time the shots were fired?”

  “The Congressman had just descended those rickety steps down from the platform, Chief Gardner behind him, and then me.”

  “Was that the normal process?”

  “Well, it really should have been the Chief in front of the Congressman and me behind, but I guess we didn’t know of any threat, this isn’t the Secret Service and lots of things get done any way they can, and anyway, I don’t think that would have made any difference to the outcome in this case anyway.”

  “And you heard the shots?”

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  “And,” Brent continued, “you saw the defendant holding a gun.”

  “Yes sir, I did.”

  “And then what did you do?”

  “I drew my weapon.”

  “With the intention of…”

  “Firing at the suspect.”

  “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Fire at the suspect.”

  “I was about to take a shot, but the Chief waved me not to.”

  “How?”

  “With his hand. Downwards. Two-three times.” He demonstrated.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning don’t shoot. That was about the time he caught a bullet himself, in the same hand.”

  “And why do you suppose the Chief made those motions to you?”

  “Objection!” said Liv, half-rising.

  “Sustained.”

  “One last question, then. Could you have fired at the accused without risking innocent lives?”

  “I believed I could, sir. I could have done that. I’m a pretty good marksman. But thinking about it later, I guess there would have been a risk to civilians, and to Chief Gardner too, since he was right in front of me. So that’s why he motioned me to stop.”

  “So you didn’t fire at all.”

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  Liv made a perfunctory cross that broke no new ground.

  As the prosecution’s last witness, Scott Gardner, Chief of Police of Grantwood, Pennsylvania, was sworn in. He didn’t look well, and as the minutes dragged on he looked even worse. Seeing his distress, and the lateness of the hour, Brent asked the judge if Gardner could be excused for the day and recalled the next. This time, Liv objected, because the third day of the trial was the defense’s day, and she didn’t want the jury confused if a prosecution witness were also called on that same day.

  The Duchess overruled Liv’s objection as a matter of law, but said Gardner was excused and could testify on the fourth day of the trial instead of now, the second day. The Chief thanked the judge and left, looking greener by the minute.

  The remainder of the second day was devoted to two prosecution witnesses who had observed Charley Dukes after he had left the rally area.

  First, Natalie Jameson testified she’d been knocked down by a man who’d then taken her Chevy Nova and mercilessly ground the gears and unrubbered some tire, which hurt her more than having been knocked down. Is the man who assaulted you here in this courtroom, ma’am? Natalie Jameson stood up abruptly and pointed a shaking finger at Charley Dukes. “He did it!” she yelled dramatically.

  Liv’s cross, which took little time, established Jameson had no personal knowledge Dukes had done anything to Ezra Barnes, nor had she been at the Congressman’s rally.

  Jameson was thereupon excused and left the courthouse, she said to reporters, to buy a birthday present for her son.

  Next, a highway patrolman testified he’d heard a BOLO for the Jameson car, and he and five other officers had set up a three-car roadblock and had spotted a suspicious car and stopped it, because of the make and model, and because the front plate was the same number as one reported stolen some forty minutes earlier.

  He’d waved the car to stop, which the car did since there was no way around the roadblock. Then he apprehended the defendant. Did he try to escape? Yes he did. Another officer, Private Sowton, shot him in the leg, and he collapsed. Did the driver of the car you stopped say anything? Yes, sir, he confessed. Before he was read his rights? Yes, sir, unfortunately, as soon as we laid hands on him he yelled “I shot him! I shot the politician!” in a loud voice. We all heard it. And then we Miranda’d him and he confessed again.”

  “And was there any coercion of any kind, in the defendant’s confession?”

  “No, sir, none at all.”

  Brent continued. “Please tell the court what you found on the defendant or in the car.”

  “Yes, sir, a car key in his pocket that didn’t fit the car he was driving, and a license plate in front that didn’t match the one in back.”

  “Did you find a weapon?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you give the defendant a powder test when you arrived at the station?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “That he’d recently fired a weapon, sir.”

  The prosecution rested, and Liv declined to cross-examine.

  With a few concluding remarks to the jury, DuCasse adjourned the court until nine a.m. the next day, the third day of the trial.

  Chapter 16: Four Months After the Assassination

  During a recess that day, Liv had finally received call-backs from a clinical psychologist and a MSW in psychology willing to visit with Charley for an hour that evening, and verify, if they could, Charley was handicapped by a lack of normal intelligence, had an IQ of perhaps eighty-five, and his judgment was therefore diminished with respect to planning and executing a crime (shaky logic, actually) and was therefore not totally, but partially responsible for his acts. One hour wasn’t long, but then they weren’t being paid.

  She expected that cross-examination would establish having an eighty-five IQ was fully compatible with responsible decision-making, at least in ordinary situations of normal life; but these two experts were all she had that didn’t sound crazy and conspiratorial.

  So what was left for the defense? The crazy and the conspiratorial. But she had no witnesses for that, and no reason to claim Charley Dukes was mentally capable of joining a conspiracy and executing their orders.

  So she had the thin reed of mental deficiency; it was that or “defense rests” without having done anything worthy of resting from.

  The next morning, the third day of the trial, Liv put on her show.

  She called the two expert witnesses she had cajoled into serving for no fee – pro bono, just as she was. But some publicity for sure, she’d told them the night before. Yes, newspapers and webV nationwide will show you, speak of you in the hushed terms appropriate to the Expert. And they had agreed to testify.

  Yes, they had separately interviewed Charley Dukes, had spoken with him at some length, had even given him a simple IQ test. Each testified Charley might have difficulty making the most thoughtful of decisions.

  Brent cross-examined them and quickly shredded thei
r testimony. And how long did you spend with the defendant? And did you consider that amount of time sufficient for you to come to an expert diagnosis and testify to it for the defense? And by the way, let’s talk about those credentials you claimed when Ms. Saunders was questioning you. University of what? Degree in education? Ah, “psychology of education.” Can you tell the jury just what that means? Oh, I see. Now does that have anything to do with criminal behavior? Only in high school students. OK, I see.

  Brent asked each witness if Dukes could have been faking his IQ test, and Brent’s day was made when the MSW, in all seriousness, responded Charley didn’t have the mental capacity to fake diminished mental capacity, a catch-22 that brought audible laughter from a few of the jurors.

  No further questions.

  Brent was good, she had to give him that. He even got her “experts” to agree a low IQ was no barrier to “knowing right from wrong,” that hoary old excuse for a thousand executions.

  Liv rested for the defense, subject to cross-examination of Chief Gardner, whose deferred testimony would be taken the next day.

  At the end of the third day of the trial, JTJ’s excited commentary over the local radio station occupied six minutes between two top-forty songs. In that brief time she was able to express many ideas, including:

  .. Brent Nielsen was both cute and clever. And exciting.

  .. Olivia Saunders didn’t seem to have any support from anywhere, but she was brave.

  .. Charley Dukes had been spoken of in terms that, outside a courtroom, might be grounds for a libel suit.

  .. The only tension was not guilt or innocence, but what kind of sentence the jury would hand out. And,

  .. JTJ was on top of the story and understood everything, and was dedicated to bringing you, her radio and webV audience, the latest news and commentary from this Central-Pennsylvania-shaking trial.

  She also reviewed the days’ filming and congratulated the student-crews. Yes, she thought, there might be some use for this footage beyond its stated purpose of educating the Hollywood camera crews of the future.