Read Anatomy of a Murder Online
Authors: Robert Traver
Anatomy of a Murder (54 page)
“My time is practically up,” I went on. Most jurors expect and thirst for a final flight of purple prose in a closing argument and I paused and reflected a moment and then soared into the wild blue yonder. “Can you possibly find it in your hearts to add to the woes of these sorely tried people, of this tormented man? To subject him to the sentence of this court, ruin his military career, shut off his sole means of income? To send Laura Manion back to peddling beauty lotions or to her âimmoral' switchboard?” I paused. “How much ruin are you going to permit this Barney Quill to leave in his wake? Hasn't he wrought enough havoc for one man during one lifetime? Whatever happens here has brought lasting degradation and shame on himself and his family. He has beat up and raped and nearly killed another man's wife. He has set in motion the Lieutenant's arrest and this harrowing and expensive trial.” I paused. “Can
you possibly want by your verdict to let the great Barney work one final bit of mischief from the grave?”
you possibly want by your verdict to let the great Barney work one final bit of mischief from the grave?”
I lowered my voice and held up my cupped hand. “People, you are not dealing with a hypothetical lieutenant now but a living, pulsing, suffering human being, a man whose destiny you hold in the palm of your hand.” I turned and looked at the Lieutenant who sat white-faced, staring at the opposite wall. “Look at this harried, lonely man, up here on trial for his freedom among strangersâfriendless, broke, foully betrayed by one of the first civilians he encountered. Look at him well. Surely it would be an act of Christian charity, as well as your legal duty, to show by your verdict that up in our neck of the woods all decency is not dead, that justice is not a mere lawyer's game played by a big voice from Lansing, that all our traditional friendliness is not a false prelude to betrayal.”
I shook my head and lowered my voice almost to a whisper. “Can you possibly find it in your hearts not to send this tormented and tortured man back to the Army that needs himâyes, and back to the woman he loves?” I bowed gravely and returned to my table. The Lieutenant still sat staring straight ahead. I heard the dry click of the electric clock behind me. My work was done and I was weary, weary ⦠.
There was a prolonged whistling expiring sigh from the courtroom behind me, like the sound of a truck tire going flat, and I looked around and saw that one of our more faithful lady students of homicide had swooned dead away. Her arms were held rigid at her sides and her legs pointed stiffly out straight before her as though she were ready for crating and shipment. Her mouth sagged comically open on one side like that of a carnival barker making his pitch. Her neighbors were busily fanning her while the Sheriff rushed her the remains of my old water. I speculated wryly whether she was overcome by Biegler's eloquence or rather by boredom. She hiccupped with fervor and then her eyes rolled open, heavy and slow like a doll's eyes, and suddenly she clamped her bosom and glared glassily at a red-faced Max, who had, it appeared, inadvertently spilt some water down her neck.
The Judge cleared his throat. “Perhaps we'd better take five minutes,” he said. “Perhaps, too, Mr. Sheriff, you can open more windows.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Max said, abruptly abandoning his ungrateful charge and scrambling back to his gavel.
After the court had recessed Laura Manion came forward and
pressed my hand. “You were wonderful. Thank you, Paul,” she said, and there were tears in her green eyes.
pressed my hand. “You were wonderful. Thank you, Paul,” she said, and there were tears in her green eyes.
The Lieutenant gruffly cleared his throat. “You did good,” he said, nervously sipping his mustache.
“Thank you,” I said, rising and making my way out of the courtroom. As I groped my way out to the conference room Parnell fell in by my side and grasped my hand in both of his. “Good boy,” he whispered huskily, and then turned away, thoughtfully leaving me to sit alone in a chair by the window looking out over the lake, meditatively puffing my pipe, until Max Battisfore reminded me it was time.
“You sure gave the little bastard hell, Polly,” Max said. “Good boy.”
“Yes, Max,” I said, knocking out my pipe and grabbing my brief case. “But don't forget, Dancer has the last word.”
The Judge nodded at the People's table and Claude Dancer arose and walked slowly before the jury. During Mitch's argument and the earlier phases of mine I had observed him busily taking notes, but now he carried nothing and stood thoughtful and empty-handed before the jury, speaking in a low, almost conversational tone of voice. “First of all, ladies and gentlemen, I want to compliment my young associate on the way he has conducted his case. It was a pleasure to assist such a sterling young man.” Having gracefully tried to give the case back to Mitch he paused and turned, looking at me. “I also want to compliment Mr. Biegler on his spirited and thorough defense of this case. If he thinks I am tough, then it has indeed been a good match. In any case, whatever happens, whatever you may decide, Lieutenant Manion should never have any regrets over his choice of a lawyer or over the capable and astute way that lawyer has fought for him.”
I nodded gravely as Claude Dancer turned back to the jury. “But I must remind you, ladies and gentlemen,” he went on, “that it is not I who am on trial here; nor is the dead man, Barney Quill, on trial here; nor is the People's psychiatrist, Dr. Gregory, on trial here âhowever adroitly defense counsel would lead you to believe that we are. It is Lieutenant Manion who is on trial, and if you will bear with me I shall briefly review the elements and proofs in this case that in our view tend to show his guilt of murder beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Claude Dancer then defined murder as the deliberate, malicious and premeditated killing of a person without legal justification or excuse. He then proceeded to make a masterfully concise presentation of the detailed testimony tending to show that the shooting was just that: the elapsed time between Laura's return to the trailer and the Lieutenant's trip to the bar; the fact that he himself admitted he left the trailer almost immediately after discovering the alleged telltale fluid on Laura's personâ“Was not this the action of a man gripped by a cold and implacable fury?” he askedâ; the fact that the woman herself had correctly predicted that her husband would kill Barney; the quick temper and jealous nature of the defendant as shown by the time he had struck a young fellow Army officer for kissing his wife's hand; the “Buster” testimony of the bartender when the Lieutenant had asked him if he wanted some too ⦠.
“As though all this alone were not enough,” Claude Dancer went
on quietly, “we have in addition the revealing remarks he made to Detective Sergeant Durgo shortly after the shooting,” and he went on in one, two, three order and brought all that out, quietly, forcefully, inexorably. “Are these,” he demanded, “are these the actions and statements of an insane man or rather are they those of a man âpenitent, remorseful, resignedâafter a homicidal outburst of anger over the behavior of his wife with a strange man?” (For a moment I had thought Claude Dancer was tacitly admitting the rape, but no, he was back in the realm of fantasy once again.)
on quietly, “we have in addition the revealing remarks he made to Detective Sergeant Durgo shortly after the shooting,” and he went on in one, two, three order and brought all that out, quietly, forcefully, inexorably. “Are these,” he demanded, “are these the actions and statements of an insane man or rather are they those of a man âpenitent, remorseful, resignedâafter a homicidal outburst of anger over the behavior of his wife with a strange man?” (For a moment I had thought Claude Dancer was tacitly admitting the rape, but no, he was back in the realm of fantasy once again.)
“Here is a man who deliberately and knowingly took a loaded gun âthere is no question but he remembered doing thatâand drove swiftly over to the hotel bar and, looking neither left nor rightâand surely if he
intended
to kill this man, as we claim, he would keep his eye on him and not be greeting those who spoke to himâand shot the man down like a dog and then returned to his trailer and told his wife what he had done and then gave himself up unerringly to the only deputy sheriff in Thunder Bay, telling him that he had shot Barney.” He paused. “Now if he was insane how could he have known he shot Barney? And if he remembered shooting Barney then he wasn't insane.”
intended
to kill this man, as we claim, he would keep his eye on him and not be greeting those who spoke to himâand shot the man down like a dog and then returned to his trailer and told his wife what he had done and then gave himself up unerringly to the only deputy sheriff in Thunder Bay, telling him that he had shot Barney.” He paused. “Now if he was insane how could he have known he shot Barney? And if he remembered shooting Barney then he wasn't insane.”
The jury listened intently as Claude Dancer quietly poured it on. “And if he was able to recount and remember what happened right before and again right after the shooting, why should he later and now conveniently forget the damaging and significant things he told Sergeant Durgo upwards of an hour later?” he demanded. “Isn't this rather the picture of a calculating man who conveniently forgot whatever might be harmful to him?” Several of the jurors involuntarily nodded and I rolled my eyes over at Parnell and lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “And remember, this, good people, this man took the law into his own hands. If the deceased had even done the things the defense claims, which we do not admit, there were legal ways to deal with Mr. Quill rather than shooting him. In any case it is no legal defense to this case, as I am sure the Judge will instruct you. And in taking the law into his own hands the Lieutenant broke the law in another particular by secreting and carrying a concealed weapon on his person; his actions began in wrongdoing.”
On this last again the little man was due for disenchantment, as we hoped some of our requested instructions would showâprovided only that the Judge gave them, and provided further that the jurors listened to and understood and heeded them. Claude Dancer then moved on to the insanity issue and, in his adroit and plausible way,
did a rather remarkable job of rehabilitating the People's mauled and tarnished psychiatrist. “Even the defense's own doctor found no psychosis, no neurosis, no delusions, no hallucinations, and no history of insanity or dissociative reaction.” He pointed out that Dr. Gregory was an old experienced hand while our man, however sincere and dedicated, was still learning his trade. “The Army should not have sent a boy to do a man's job,” he rolled on in his melodious voice.
did a rather remarkable job of rehabilitating the People's mauled and tarnished psychiatrist. “Even the defense's own doctor found no psychosis, no neurosis, no delusions, no hallucinations, and no history of insanity or dissociative reaction.” He pointed out that Dr. Gregory was an old experienced hand while our man, however sincere and dedicated, was still learning his trade. “The Army should not have sent a boy to do a man's job,” he rolled on in his melodious voice.
“As for counsel's comment that we did not request a personal examination of the Lieutenant, I may add that no chance or opportunity to do so was offered.” He paused and glanced back at me. “I have a grave premonition, a dark suspicion, that had we tried to examine this man Mr. Biegler would have used everything but his client's lüger to have prevented it.” I glanced wryly over at Parnell as Claude Dancer continued soberly: “In fact the sorry predicament of the People when they are met with a defense of this kind has been so forcibly borne upon me during this trial that I expect to speak to my superior about it upon my return to Lansing. I believe new legislation should be recommended to plug this breach. Under our present procedures there is grave doubt in my mind that, however timely or hard we had tried to examine this man, we could legally have compelled him to submit to one. That is a serious situation, both in this case and for the future.”
I sat shading my eyes with my hand, musing, listening to the dedicated little man with half my mind, drifting into a sort of waking reverie as he chanted on and on with that persuasive voice, skillfully drawing the noose of argument ever more tightly about the neck of Lieutenant Manion. There was something at once admirable and frightening in his naked singleness of purpose. Here was a relentless prosecutor in the classic tradition: he sought only to convict. And, I had to admit, he was doing no more than I myself had done so many times for so many years. Who was I to cast the first stone? Weren't all of us prosecutors and ex-D.A.'s adrift in the same boat? And hadn't it finally taken the detachment of an eloquent and outraged non-lawyer, John Mason Brown, to utter the last devastating word on the subject?
“The prosecutor's by obligation is a special mind,” he had written, “mongoose quick, bullying, devious, unrelenting, forever baited to ensnare. It is almost duty bound to mislead, and by instinct dotes on confusing and flourishes on weakness. Its search is for blemishes it can present as scars, its obligation to raise doubts or sour with
suspicion. It asks questions not to learn but to convict, and can read guilt into the most innocent of answers. Its hope, its aim, its triumph is to addle a witness into confession by tricking, exhausting, or irritating him into a verbal indiscretion which sounds like a damaging admission. To natural lapses of memory it gives the appearance either of stratagems for hiding misdeeds or, worse still, of lies, dark and deliberate. Feigned and wheedling politeness, sarcasm that scalds, intimidation, surprise, and besmirchment by innuendo, association, or suggestion, at the same time that any intention to besmirch is deniedâall these as methods and devices are such staples in the prosecutor's repertory that his mind turns to them by rote.”
suspicion. It asks questions not to learn but to convict, and can read guilt into the most innocent of answers. Its hope, its aim, its triumph is to addle a witness into confession by tricking, exhausting, or irritating him into a verbal indiscretion which sounds like a damaging admission. To natural lapses of memory it gives the appearance either of stratagems for hiding misdeeds or, worse still, of lies, dark and deliberate. Feigned and wheedling politeness, sarcasm that scalds, intimidation, surprise, and besmirchment by innuendo, association, or suggestion, at the same time that any intention to besmirch is deniedâall these as methods and devices are such staples in the prosecutor's repertory that his mind turns to them by rote.”
Claude Dancer pressed relentlessly on, abruptly rousing me from my reverie. “Defense counsel and the Army psychiatrist make light of the fact of whether the defendant knew what he was doing and whether it was wrong. They tell you blandly that it makes no difference. Perhaps as an abstract legal and medical proposition that may at least be arguable. But what do we have in this case? We have a defendant here charged with murdering a man who has testified on his solemn oath that he
didn't
remember doing it.” Claude Dancer pointed up at the skylight. “I say to you that if in fact he did know and remember what he was doing and lied to you about it, then he has not only lied to his lawyer and doctor but deliberately perjured himself on a material issue in this case. If so, as I believe the court will instruct you, you are entitled to disregard all of his testimony, including his defense of insanity, unless it is corroborated by other and credible witnesses whose testimony you do believe. So it makes a whale of a big difference whether this man lied.”
didn't
remember doing it.” Claude Dancer pointed up at the skylight. “I say to you that if in fact he did know and remember what he was doing and lied to you about it, then he has not only lied to his lawyer and doctor but deliberately perjured himself on a material issue in this case. If so, as I believe the court will instruct you, you are entitled to disregard all of his testimony, including his defense of insanity, unless it is corroborated by other and credible witnesses whose testimony you do believe. So it makes a whale of a big difference whether this man lied.”
I found myself nodding involuntarily at the brilliant cogency of this argument as the little man continued to bore in. “Remember, none of us can peer into the mind of this cool stranger we find among us. The fact is that we know little or nothing about the man. Now it is quite possible that he
has
fooled his able lawyer, that he
has
fooled his youthful psychiatrist. As Mr. Biegler has so well pointed out, none of us is infallible. This brings me to the testimony of Duane Miller, the defendant's cell neighbor. Like Mr. Biegler I am quite content to let you grapple alone with that one. To use one of his more elegant expressions, it's your baby. I'll say only this: in this grim business of crime and punishment it sometimes takes a thief to catch a thief, as the old saying goes. Sometimes, indeed, it is the only way.”
has
fooled his able lawyer, that he
has
fooled his youthful psychiatrist. As Mr. Biegler has so well pointed out, none of us is infallible. This brings me to the testimony of Duane Miller, the defendant's cell neighbor. Like Mr. Biegler I am quite content to let you grapple alone with that one. To use one of his more elegant expressions, it's your baby. I'll say only this: in this grim business of crime and punishment it sometimes takes a thief to catch a thief, as the old saying goes. Sometimes, indeed, it is the only way.”
Claude Dancer paused and glanced at the clock. “Yes, Duane
Miller is a confessed arsonist awaiting sentence, a man with a criminal record as long as my arm.” He smiled grimly. “Believe me, I would much prefer to have had him the head of a theological seminary. But may I remind you, as Mr. Biegler's Kipling also said about fun, that the People must take their witnesses where they find them; they cannot pick and choose them as the defense can. Surely neither Mr. Biegler nor you intelligent jurors expected us to produce a live bishop who might have heard this revealing boast from a cell neighbor. And just as surely he and all of us here know that our just and good Judge will not in his sentence for an instant spare this witness because of his testimony here or because of any alleged promise I may have made himâof which, please remember, there is not a shred of proof.”
Miller is a confessed arsonist awaiting sentence, a man with a criminal record as long as my arm.” He smiled grimly. “Believe me, I would much prefer to have had him the head of a theological seminary. But may I remind you, as Mr. Biegler's Kipling also said about fun, that the People must take their witnesses where they find them; they cannot pick and choose them as the defense can. Surely neither Mr. Biegler nor you intelligent jurors expected us to produce a live bishop who might have heard this revealing boast from a cell neighbor. And just as surely he and all of us here know that our just and good Judge will not in his sentence for an instant spare this witness because of his testimony here or because of any alleged promise I may have made himâof which, please remember, there is not a shred of proof.”
I glanced ruefully at a white-faced Parnell and then looked up at the Judge, who smiled faintly. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am nearly done,” Claude Dancer went on. “Please keep in mind the difference between insanity and passion. Consider if you will how easy it is to simulate the one and twist the other into a symptom of mental aberration. Indeed homicidal passion and murderous anger is in itself a form of mental lapse but, fortunately for the peace and welfare of society, one that the law does not recognize as a defense to cold and brutal murder.”
The little man had not yet raised his voice, not once had the thunder rolled, and yet his argument was logical, pointed, and, I was growing afraid, rather devastating in its persuasiveness. He now put out his hands and modulated his voice even lower. “This is a serious case. Certainly it is serious to the defendant. It is equally serious to the Peopleâone of our number has been shot down in cold blood. Ours is not the law of the jungle and it illy behooves you to lightly get abroad by your verdict the impression that it is.” He held out his hands. “Listen well to the Judge's instructions. Then bring in a verdict that accords with your hearts and your minds. That is all we ask. I thank you.” Claude Dancer bowed gravely and returned to his seat.
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