Mystery Writers of America Presents the Prosecution Rests (16 page)

The judge a white guy, no chin and no hair, tell the jury what the lawyers say ain’t evidence. Then why he let them tell the
jury anythin’? Don’t make no sense.

The courtroom’s cold. I rub my hands, keep’em warm. Elisabeth whisper at me to stop, say it make me look nervous. The judge
say he keep it cold so nobody fall asleep. The jury laughs like it’d be funny they fall asleep tryin’ to decide if I get the
needle. He tells them bring a sweater. I’m shiverin’ in my suit. I look at the jury. They see me shake. Elisabeth puts her
hand on my arm. I’m still cold, but I quit shiverin’. That’s all that happens the first day. I go back to my cell, but I don’t
sleep.

____

N
EXT DAY
, E
LISABETH
make me stand when the jury and the judge come in the courtroom. Them jurors tuggin’ on their sweaters makin’ sure the judge
notice, all of them smilin’ and laughin’ like they havin’ a party.

Elisabeth say we stand out of respect whenever the judge and the jury come or go. I ain’t got no fuckin’ respect for people
what gonna decide if I live or die and all they care about is what they wearin’. Ain’t none of them fuckin’ know who I am
or what I’m about. They got the power and Elisabeth she got to play their game, but that don’t mean I got to respect they
shit.

Fred Barton be the detective on the case. He a fat fuck, his collar squeezin’ his head till it swole up like a thumb somebody
done hit wit a hammer. Him and the DA got they shit together playin’ patty cake wit the questions. Barton he all about how
Diego all cut up, the DA showin’ the jury pictures of the holes in Diego’s head where his eyes used to be and another close-up
of the man’s dick lyin’ on the floor all bloody. Elisabeth she object like it her dick the jury lookin’ at, but the judge
tell her overruled and take a seat.

I watch the jury. Couple them white guys gettin’ red, the women swallowin’ hard like they gonna puke. I already seen the pictures.
They bad, but I seen worse.

Barton go on sayin’ how Diego was under investigation for sellin’ drugs, mostly crack, and that I was the one what was sellin’
the shit to Diego. Elisabeth, she take a piece out of Barton, walkin’ around the courtroom like she own it, askin’ him questions.

“Detective Barton, did you find any drugs on Mr. Hernández’s body?”

“Yes, ma’am, we did. Several rocks of crack cocaine.”

“Whose label was on them?”

Barton, he look at her like she crazy. “Street drugs don’t have labels on them,” he say.

“Well then,” Elisabeth say, “was anybody’s name on those drugs?”

“No.”

“How about a receipt? Did you find a receipt or a canceled check or a credit card record showing who paid for those drugs?”

“No. That’s not the way these things work.”

“Of course they don’t, Detective. Drug dealers don’t operate like Wal-Mart. Everyone knows that. So you must have found some
other physical evidence that proved my client sold those drugs or any drugs to Mr. Hernández.”

Barton took a deep breath, looked over at the DA. “No, ma’am. We didn’t.”

“What? No photographs? No wiretaps? No fingerprints?”

“No.”

“But you testified that the defendant sold drugs to Mr. Hernández and that my client murdered him when Mr. Hernández didn’t
pay for the drugs, isn’t that right?”

“That was my testimony.”

“And you told the jury that you relied on a paid informant who was part of Mr. Hernández’s drug ring who told you that story
about my client?”

Another deep breath. Motherfucker keep suckin’ air he gonna blow up like a goddamn birthday balloon. “That’s correct.”

“And that paid informant, who previously did time in prison for assault with a deadly weapon and who the district attorney
gave a get-out-of-jail-free card in return for his testimony, is the only source of evidence you have that Travis Runnels
sold drugs to Mr. Hernández. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And that paid informant is also the only witness who told you that my client threatened to kill Mr. Hernández. True?”

“True,” Barton say, lettin’ the air out like he an old grandpa can’t breathe.

“And if that paid informant hadn’t made such a sweet deal with the district attorney, he’d be on trial for selling drugs.
True?”

“I don’t know. I don’t make those decisions.”

“No, you don’t, Detective. You just ignored his crimes and arrested my client instead. Nothing further.”

Elisabeth sit back down. “How’d you like that knife fight?” she say out of the corner of her mouth.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” I say, sittin’ high and feelin’ fine. My girl kills.

Luis Pillco testify next. Pillco be the rat, a skinny dude got greased-back hair, no meat on him, jumpy like he lookin’ to
get fixed up. The DA take him through his paces. I don’t look at him. Elisabeth, she eye Luis like he her next meal, squirmin’
around in her chair, ready to jump his ass soon as Watts let go.

“Mr. Pillco, can you identify the man you heard threaten to kill Diego Hernández?” Watts ask Luis.

“That’s him.”

“Let the record show that the witness is pointing at the defendant, Travis Runnels,” Watts say. “Had you met the defendant
at some point prior to when he made that threat?”

“Yeah. Him and Diego and me, we was all in prison together. He was dealin’ back then too, inside the joint.”

Elisabeth shoot out of her chair so fast I thought she gonna land in the judge’s lap. She come down in front of the bench,
the judge coverin’ his microphone wit his hand while the lawyers whispered, veins in Elisabeth’s neck poppin’ out her skin,
Watts all silky. Elisabeth walk back to our table, her chin up, her hard eyes givin’ me a beat-down.

“Objection overruled,” the judge say.

“What do you mean, Mr. Pillco,” Watts say to the rat, “that the defendant was dealing?”

“He was the man to see you needed to get fixed up. Pills mostly.”

“Did the defendant tell you why he was in prison?”

“Yeah. Some dude stiffed him, so Travis say he cut him. Dude died. Travis made a real point of tellin’ that story. Said man
don’t pay, man get cut. Way it is.”

I feel the jurors’ eyes on me, drillin’ holes in my back. Elisabeth, she go stiff, makin’ notes on her legal pad, keep from
lookin’ at me. There’s a seal on the wall behind the judge’s chair, a picture of an eagle, wings spread and arrows in its
claws. I jus stare at that big bird, wonder what it be like to swoop down from the sky and rip a rat to shreds.

“That’s it for today,” the judge say. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning at nine.”

____

E
LISABETH COME SEE
me before court start. We in a witness room. A couple of chairs. No windows. Smell like old flop. She don’t sit, so I don’t
sit.

“Travis,” she say, “have you seen anyone in the courtroom you recognize, not counting your old prison buddy Luis Pillco?”

“I ain’t seen nobody.”

“What about your father?”

“Shit, I never met him. Wouldn’t know if he was there or not.”

“Sisters or brothers?”

“Sister live in St. Louis. My brother got hisself killed ten years ago.”

“Friends?”

I shake my head. Don’t have to tell her I ain’t got any, none what would stand by me unless they was gettin’ well doin’ it.

“Your mother is a witness, so the judge won’t let her in the courtroom until she testifies. Which means that I’m the only
one in there who gives a rat’s ass what happens to you. Luis Pillco kicked us in the nuts yesterday, and there wasn’t a damn
thing I could do about it because you didn’t tell me that you’d been in prison with him. Now the jury knows you were connected
to Diego Hernández, that you are a drug dealer and you cut people who don’t pay you. If you want this to be a knife fight,
you can’t take the knife out of my hand and let the DA stick one in your back at the same time. If there’s anything else I
need to know, this would be the time to tell me.”

“What Luis say in court stay between me and Luis. We work it out another time.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Then it hit me. “How come you didn’t know what Luis gonna say? You tole me the DA has to give you a list of witnesses
and that you gonna talk to all of’em.”

Girl goes all red on me. “I’ve got a lot of cases. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The judge was going to let him testify.”

She leave me there waitin’ for the sheriff’s deputy to take me into the courtroom, wonderin’ how close to jus good enough
she gonna be.

____

B
RENDA
R
UDNER IN
charge of the police crime lab. She say the cops found a knife hidden under the seat in my car. Say it had the kind of blade
used to cut Diego. Say she trace the knife to the manufacturer, who tell her they sold it to a sporting-goods store in my
neighborhood but the store got no record who they sold it to. Then she show pictures of bloodstains they found in my car and
hold up charts showing the blood come from Diego.

Elisabeth take her time gettin’ out of her chair, shufflin’ her papers like she lookin’ for somethin’’cept I can tell it all
for show,’cause her eyes on me and not them papers.

“Ms. Rudner,” she say, “whose fingerprints did you find on the knife that was recovered from my client’s car?”

“We were unable to identify any prints.”

“Are you telling the jury you found fingerprints on the knife but you couldn’t tell whose they were?”

Rudner clear her throat like she know her foot in it. “Not exactly.”

“Unfortunately, we need exactly. You see, the State wants to kill my client. So exactly would be very helpful. Did you exactly
find any fingerprints on the knife?”

“No, we didn’t.”

“No smudges, swirls, partials, or latents?”

“No. Nothing.”

“How do you explain that?”

“Someone wiped off any fingerprints that were there.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you find any blood, tissue, or DNA material on that knife?”

“No.”

“Do you have any proof that my client ever touched that knife?”

“No.”

“Did you examine the clothing my client was wearing when he was arrested?”

“Yes.”

“Did you find any blood, tissue, or DNA belonging to the decedent?”

“No.”

“What about the rest of his clothes. Did you examine them?”

“Yes. We didn’t find anything that linked his clothing to this crime.”

“Did you find any blood, tissue, or DNA belonging to my client on the decedent?”

“No.”

“Given the bloody nature of this crime, do you find that unusual?”

“Not if the decedent didn’t struggle.”

“Are you telling the jury that the decedent did not struggle? That he offered no resistance while someone was stabbing and
mutilating him?”

She crossed her arms, puttin’ up her own fight. “It’s reasonable to assume he struggled, at least at first.”

“And even if the decedent didn’t struggle, the killer had to have made contact with the decedent’s skin when he gouged out
the decedent’s eyes and amputated the decedent’s penis. True?”

“That’s likely.”

“And yet you found no physical evidence that Travis Runnels had any contact with the decedent’s body. Isn’t that also true?”

“It is.”

“You inspected my client’s car?”

Rudner lean back in the witness stand, glad to be talkin’ about somethin’ else. “I did.”

“Inside and out?”

“Well, I didn’t take it for a drive, if that’s what you mean, Counselor.”

“How about the door locks? Did you try them?”

Rudner squinted her eyes. She thumbed through her file. “No, I didn’t. There was no need. The car was unlocked.”

“Precisely. When the police found the car it was unlocked.” Elisabeth give her a paper. “I’m handing you what has been admitted
into evidence as People’s Exhibit Six. This is a copy of Detective Barton’s report. I direct your attention to the third page
of the report. Please read the portion I have highlighted.”

“Okay.
Investigating officer asked Mr. Runnels for permission to search his car. Mr. Runnels consented to the search. Investigating
officer asked Mr. Runnels for the keys. Mr. Runnels advised that the car was unlocked because the locks were broken. Investigating
officer proceeded with search and confirmed that locks did not work.
What’s your point, Counselor?”

“Well, for starters, my client cooperated fully with the investigation, which seems a bit unusual if he knew that the murder
weapon and the decedent’s blood were in his car. But the real point is, the killer could have planted the knife and the decedent’s
bloodstains in the car because it was always unlocked. Isn’t that true?”

“I don’t know.”

“But that scenario is entirely consistent with the physical evidence, true?”

“Yes, but—”

“Thank you. You answered my question. And it’s also correct that there is nothing in the physical evidence that makes your
scenario more likely than my scenario. True?”

“You’re asking me to speculate. I won’t do that.”

“I agree. You shouldn’t do that when a man’s life is at stake.”

The coroner, Dr. Kirk Semple, testify next. He tell the jury how he figured out whoever cut Diego was right-handed, how Diego
standin’ up when he got cut the first time and how the one what did it was taller than Diego. I’m right-handed, taller than
Diego, and I ain’t stupid. Dude hurtin’ me.

Elisabeth don’t get out of her chair. “How tall is Luis Pillco?” she ask Dr. Semple.

The doctor’s chin dropped. “I have no idea,” he say.

“Fair enough. Is Luis Pillco right-handed or left-handed?”

“No one provided me with that information. I couldn’t tell you.”

“So neither the police nor the district attorney provided you with the information you would need to rule out Mr. Pillco as
a suspect, even though he was a known criminal associate of the decedent and had served time in prison for assault with a
deadly weapon. True?”

“True,” he say.

I look at the jury. They lookin’ at Dr. Semple, shakin’ they heads. Makes me hard.