Buried Memories (28 page)

Faye went on to testify that she’d only been around Jimmy Don five or six times, but that she liked him. She said he and her mother got along well, and she’d never heard them quarrel or saw them fight.

“Have you ever talked to Mr. Bandy before?” E. Ray asked.

“No. I only talked with Rick Rose and Mike O’Brien.”

“Did you tell them the same thing you’re telling me?”

“Yes.”

“They subpoenaed you here today and you know nothing whatsoever?”

“That’s right.”

After ascertaining Fay knew Ray Bone, E. Ray walked closer to the witness, and asked in a confidential manner, “Did he ever tell you that he made a deal with Rick Rose?”

“No,” Faye said.

E. Ray looked disappointed, for he probably hoped Faye would substantiate that a deal had been made by the prosecution.

“Is your brother, Robby Branson, capable of murder?”

Bandy, on his feet with both open palms extended toward the judge, said, “Your Honor, he’s usurping the province of the jury.”

When the judge overruled his complaint, the DA looked stunned that Holland would allow E. Ray that much range.

“Now listen carefully,” E. Ray cautioned Faye as if she were a small child, “in your opinion, Robby Branson, who’s testified here, is he capable of belief—”

“I’ve always believed in my family,” Faye said.

E. Ray’s faced reddened with annoyance. “No, ma’am, I’m not talking about have you always believed him, but in your opinion is he capable of belief?”

“I’ve always believed him, but he’s never told me about any of this.”

Tired of trying to get Faye to admit that Robby was capable of murder, E. Ray ventured onto another subject. “Your sister Shirley, have you known her to have blackouts?”

“When she gets drunk.”

“Oh, she drinks!” said the known alcoholic, with a condescending frown. “Does she take dope?”

“Not anymore. She used to.”

“You’ve visited your mother twice a week at the jail,” Andrews said, establishing Faye’s loyalty.

“Yes,” she replied.

Knowing that Faye Lane would only say what supported her mother, Bandy passed on questioning her.

E. Ray Andrews had made a contractual agreement with Betty Beets for her media rights, since she couldn’t pay for her defense. Then he promptly signed the rights over to his son, affording E. Ray clean hands if anyone questioned his ethics, for he knew Betty’s book rights would be more valuable if she were found guilty. Her other attorney, Gil Hargrave, was promised twenty percent of the royalties.

The only witnesses E. Ray allowed Hargrave to question were Betty’s mother and brother. The two drove twenty-four hours from Virginia to attend the trial. They told the jury how loving Betty was, and how she never exhibited any childhood outbursts or violent tendencies.

When Bandy questioned Betty’s relatives, he concentrated on Betty’s behavior at her brother’s funeral two years prior. Her mother remembered Betty openly crying at the funeral home when she first saw her brother in his casket and also the next day at his funeral.

After Mrs. Dunevant told how much she liked Jimmy Don, Bandy asked, “Did you know any of her other husbands?”

“None other than Branson. I’m sorry, I did know Bill Lane.” Under further questioning she revealed never hearing the names Ronnie Threlkeld or Wayne Barker.

Hargrave wasn’t going to let the listing of Betty’s husbands go unchallenged. He fired back, “Did you know that Jimmy Don Beets had four wives?”

A commotion in the foyer outside the courtroom caught a deputy constable’s attention as he mingled with the hallway crowd. He had a shiny fake-gold badge pinned to his shirt, and a pink bald head narrowly fringed with hair. He considered himself a ladies’ man, but no one understood why. Now he busily eyed Shirley Stegner, the only person he recognized in a group that stood illegally discussing the trial. He stared at a short, stocky young man in a leisure suit, knowing he’d seen his face before.

The constable leaned in to catch their conversation, but he only heard the young man say, “While I was on the stand, I was asked . . .”

Although he had wanted to hear more, he felt he had heard enough. At the next trial break, he rushed to E. Ray’s office and told him what had happened. Andrews had hoped for something like this. The constable’s information could lead to a mistrial, since discussing testimony with other witnesses had been expressly forbidden by the judge.

The next morning, E. Ray eagerly recalled Robby Branson to the stand. The young man plodded into the courtroom, looking perplexed at having to testify again.

E. Ray pulled answers from Robby, getting him to admit to speaking with his sisters about the trial, and perhaps, Robby hedged, he might have mentioned his testimony and the questions he was asked.

When Shirley Stegner had her turn, she appeared more savvy and street smart than her younger brother. Andrews zeroed in on what she knew about the possibility of Robby being the murderer.

“I heard something about you accusing him of killing Jimmy Don, but Robby didn’t tell me directly. I knew we weren’t to discuss the case, but I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to discuss the newspaper.”

“What was in the newspaper?” Andrews asked.

“Quite a bit. Some of my testimony was wrong and so was other people’s.”

“How’d you know about other people’s testimony? That’s just hearsay,” Andrews told her.

“Everyone talks about hearsay,” Shirley replied.

Now the constable would have his turn. He padded into the courtroom and swore to tell the truth.

Bill Bandy asked him, “What do you make a year?”

“A dollar fifty-eight a year,” the man said without apology.

“A dollar-a-year man,” Bandy said, in a tone that indicated the man’s cheap badge had cost more than that. “What do you
really
do for a living?”

“I work for Ronald Waldie.”

“Is that the same lawyer who represents E. Ray Andrews in his disbarment action?” Bandy fought the smile forming on his lips.

E. Ray quickly objected, but Bandy had turned to go back to his chair and left the constable with Andrews.

Andrews took the constable through everything he’d heard and seen in the hall and how his civic duty as a concerned citizen required his bringing it to the court’s attention. Then he asked what else had happened yesterday.

“Mr. Bandy called me up to his office. He wanted to know if my loyalty was to Mr. Waldie. He tried to humiliate me. He also called me to the sheriff’s office and I went there and talked with Mr. Bandy, Michael O’Brien, and Rick Rose. Rick accused me of using my constable position to help my investigations for Mr. Waldie.”

On redirect, Bandy forced the constable to admit he’d seen the composite drawing of Robby Branson at Mr. Waldie’s house and not on television as he earlier testified.

Andrews brought back Rick Rose.

“Did you have an occasion to talk with the constable yesterday?” E. Ray asked.

“I did.”

“How did you know what the constable reported?”

“He told me what he reported.”

“How did you know he’d be called into Mr. Bandy’s office?”

Rose managed a straight face and said, “It was a good guess.”

Bandy cross-examined Rose and asked, “Did you see the constable hanging out in the hallway yesterday?”

“I certainly did.”

“What was he doing?”

“Creeping.”

Bandy sat down and E. Ray redirected, “What’s creeping?”

“Lurking.”

“What’s lurking?”

“Snooping.”

Andrews had enough and decided to act quickly. He turned to the judge. “Based upon the testimony heard here today and yesterday, I ask the court to declare a mistrial. We ask that Robby Branson be held in contempt of court, as well as Billy Bandy and Allen Boswell.”

Judge Holland apparently considered the testimony had been clouded with ulterior purposes and wasted no time in overruling Andrews’s motion.

Many contrasts in appearance and personality existed among the Branson children. One of the most notable was slim, sensitive Bobby, when compared to his older brother Robby who outweighed him by seventy-five pounds. Bobby’s lighter coloring resembled his mother’s, and except for the shoot-out, he rarely showed any of Robby’s bravado.

Because of Bobby’s age, only seventeen, no one had been allowed to quiz him without his father’s being present. Andrews began by asking Bobby about the family trip to Virginia, where he had accompanied his parents. He asked if Bobby had an occasion to hear Jimmy Don and Robby having a discussion.

“When we got back,” Bobby said, “they argued because Robby wrecked my motorcycle and did a whole bunch of other stuff. He took out the boat and messed it up and messed with my mom’s truck.”

“Mr. Beets was pretty upset about it?”

“Yes.”

“Did your brother get upset about it?”

“A little bit. Not much.”

Andrews had Bobby agree that Robby had argued with Jimmy Don, who was also upset over Robby quitting his job. Then, without pressing him further, E. Ray passed his witness to the DA.

Bandy asked, “Bobby, you said that Robert and Mr. Beets had a heated discussion about the motorcycle being wrecked and the other things that were done. How did Robert and Jimmy Don get along?”

“Fair. They did argue some.”

“Well, did you argue with Jimmy Don?”

“No.”

But Bobby said that he too had argued with Robby, and that Robby was strong and could get violent at times.

Bandy asked, “Did Robby and Jimmy Don have any vicious arguments?”

“Not that I know of.”

“You never saw the two men fight?”

“No,” Bobby answered.

“Who told you about Barker’s disappearance?” Bandy asked.

“I asked Mom about it a few days later. She really wouldn’t tell me. Just said he was gone.”

TWENTY-SIX

The next morning started off with something unique. Up to now, the witnesses had been either technically proficient experts or family members with important insider information. Now E. Ray Andrews announced a witness who appeared not to give a damn.

Ray Bone strutted in looking as though he had just slid off a horse. His jeans were tight, his shirt wrinkled, and his cowboy boots had never seen saddle wax or shoe polish.

Andrews asked, “You know Mrs. Beets?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you lived with her?”

“For a year.”

“What are you on parole for?”

“Manslaughter.”

“You remember coming to my office?”

“I’ve been to your office several times,” Bone said, in a tone that indicated E. Ray should have known.

“We talked about the Beets’ case, remember?”

“I told you what her kids told me, and I said I didn’t think the woman was guilty.”

“What did you base your opinion on?” E. Ray asked, then rested his foot on his chair, getting comfortable for an extensive tribute to Betty’s innocence.

“Well, the only basis I have is that I lived with her for over a year and the way she treated me. I don’t know nothing about the rest of it, but the only thing I can tell you is that the woman always treated me decent.”

“You had a run-in with one of her sons. What started the argument?”

“He and a friend were riding their motorcycles in the backyard, and I told them to get their motorcycles out of there. I said if his mama came home, she was gonna be hot.”

“Did they listen to you?”

“Paid me no attention. When I told them the next time they saw my truck parked there, they better keep on going, ’cause that meant I was there. Guess his friend didn’t like that. He pulled out a gun and started shooting. Next thing I knew Bobby come runnin’ out of the house with a pistol in each hand.”

“So that’s when you ran into the woods?”

“I mean, it’d take a
fool
to stand there with him havin’ two guns.”

“How many times did he shoot at you?”

“I don’t have no idea,” Bone said, shaking his head. “He shot out three tires. There were seven or eight bullet holes in the truck. I don’t know how many times altogether.”

“Then what happened?”

“A security guard came and took me to a friend’s house over in Arlington.”

“You were arrested for having a gun in your truck. Tell us what happened.”

“I was arrested in Arlington. Mr. Rose came and brought me back here.”

“You aware Robby Branson talked to the DA’s office?” E. Ray asked, appearing paranoid of witnesses getting a word to his competition.

“No.”

“Did you talk to anybody when the grand jury was in session?”

“Talked to Robby.”

“Did you know about him getting into any trouble?”

“I heard of some trouble, but I don’t know what it was.”

“Assault to murder?” E. Ray asked, and was probably surprised that Bandy didn’t object to his putting such inflammatory words in front of the jury.

“No, I never heard that, but I heard him say he was on probation.”

“Okay, you spent two days in jail because of a gun in your truck. How’d you get out on bail?”

“Gerald Albright got the bond for me.”

“After that, did you have a conversation with Rick Rose?”

“Yeah. I called him. I was over in Mansfield and I called him from a little grocery store.”

“Was Mrs. Beets with you at the time?”

“She was in the truck with me.”

“What did Rose want?”

“He wanted to know when we were coming back down here, and I told him we were on our way. Taking 287.”

“Did you tell him what you were driving?”

“No, I didn’t have to, he already knew.”

“How many times have you talked with Rick Rose?”

“Not since Betty was arrested.”

“I didn’t
ask
you since Betty got arrested,” E. Ray said sarcastically.

“Then make yourself plain, fella.”

A few jurors smiled in disbelief at Ray Bone.

E. Ray frowned. “I’ll make myself plain. How many times did you talk with Rose?”

“I didn’t write it down in my book,” Bone snapped.

“Three or four times?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea. Your office called Gerald Albright’s house and left the phone number for me to call the jail.”