Three Sides of the Tracks (28 page)

49

Whoosh

Jessie parked on the side of the courthouse and went inside to meet his
lawyer, Charles Morrison.

Morrison was dapper as usual, wearing a striped charcoal-grey suit and a
yellow bowtie. He stood from the defendant’s desk as soon as Jessie walked into
the courtroom.

“How long you s’pect this’ll take?” Jessie said.

“No telling. Depends on what kind and how much evidence the DA presents.
You understand this is just a preliminary hearing for the DA to show there’s
enough evidence for a trial?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know all that. You don’t know what he has? I thought he
had to give us that.”

“Later, he does. Let’s see what he has first. There’s a slim chance we
won’t have to go to trial.”

“How many times you seen that happen?”

“Twice. Jessie, how much influence do you have with this judge? Judge
Gilbert.”

“Plenty. I’ve put a good chunk of change in his election fund. But you
know as well as I do counselor the only thing that trumps money is publicity,
and there’s plenty of that going around, so I don’t expect Gilbert to stray too
far from the law.”

The back doors swung open and Bart Phillips and his associate walked down
the aisle to their desk on the other side of the courtroom. The two lawyers
nodded to one another.

Jessie and Morrison sat quietly as the court recorder and bailiff came in
and took their respective positions.

Newspaper reporters arrived—even one from Atlanta—and took seats in the
relatively small courtroom. Then the back doors banged open, accompanied by a
scratchy voice cursing about the lack of easy access for his wheelchair.

“That little hair-lipped SOB,” Jessie muttered when he saw Danny pushing
Bernard’s wheelchair through the doors. “He’s got nine lives.”

“Shssss. Don’t forget what I said about letting me do all the talking,”
Morrison said. “If you want to get out of this, be silent.”

Jessie’s clenched jaws gritted his teeth as he glared at Danny then at
Morrison, but, finally, he turned forward in the chair. He was so furious he
missed Sam Hardy’s arrival.

A few minutes later, Judge Gilbert entered through a door behind the
raised podium and sat at his desk.

“All quiet. Come to order. Judge Andrew Gilbert presiding,” the bailiff
said.

A clerk approached the judge and handed him a sheaf of paperwork. The
clerk pointed to several items as she and the judge discussed them in lowered
voices.

Judge Gilbert said, “Are the parties ready in the case of The State
versus Jessie Whitaker?”

Bart Phillips and Charles Morrison stood, and both answered
affirmatively.

Seeing Jessie at the defendant’s table and a number of new faces in the
audience, Judge Gilbert felt obligated to explain the nature of the
proceedings. “Today, we are holding what’s known as a preliminary hearing, only
for the purpose of establishing whether there is sufficient evidence for the
state to go forward with a trial. The state’s attorney, Mr. Phillips, will
present said evidence, and the defense may challenge that evidence if so
desired. The decision to not challenge the evidence today does not preclude the
defense from doing so at a later date.

“Is the state ready, Mr. Phillips?”

“We are, Your Honor.”

“Then proceed.”   

“Judge, on the count of conspiracy to commit murder, the evidence trail
involves both Georgia and Florida, but we have primary jurisdiction. To that
end, the evidence will not be presented in chronological order, so I ask the
court’s indulgence in the order in which I present the evidence.”

Judge Gilbert nodded.

“I’d like to call Danny Taylor to the stand.”

Danny walked through the truncated gate onto the courtroom floor and
walked to the witness chair Bart Phillips pointed to, where he was then sworn
in.

Phillips showed him a hand-written note encased in protective plastic.
“Is this your handwriting, Danny?”

Danny nodded.

“You’ll have to answer verbally, Danny, so the court recorder can make a
record.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Phillips. That’s my handwriting.”

“Read what it says, so it can be entered in the record.”

“
Mom, I have to go after Caroline. I’m sorry to worry you. I promise
to be careful. I love you. Danny
.”

“You wrote this note on the evening of August fourth as you left your
house to go searching for your friend Caroline Whitaker, who had been abducted
during a robbery at a local church, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What gave you the idea you would have more success than law enforcement
in finding the young lady or ladies as the case may be?”

“My friend, Bernard, owns a beach house in Florida, and he suspected one
of the kidnappers, who is his nephew, might choose the house to hide in.”

“Do you know why your friend didn’t simply tell the police of his
suspicion?”

“He hates them. They’ve beat him up several times for no good reason.
Same as me.”

A few snickers came from the gallery.

Phillips plowed through the extraneous comment. “When was the last time you
saw this note?”

“On my pillow the night I left.”

“That’s all for this witness for the moment, your honor, but I may recall
him later.”

“You’re excused, young man,” Judge Gilbert said, and Danny stepped from
the witness box.

 “Your honor, this note was found in the pocket of a man who first shot
the previous witness’ next door neighbor, both residing here in Benton, then
followed Mr. Taylor to Florida where he killed two men associated with the
aforementioned kidnapping and attempted to shoot the previous witness, Mr.
Taylor. Before the assailant could fire his pistol again, he was shot and
killed by Mr. Taylor, who was deemed to be acting in his own self-defense as
well as that of the defendant’s daughter, Miss Caroline Whitaker.

“I want to enter this note as exhibit A.”

Charles Morrison stood. “Your Honor, we object. This so-called evidence
has no link whatsoever to my client, Mr. Whitaker, but only to the deceased on
whom it was found.”

Judge Gilbert didn’t take long to consider the objection. “I agree, but I
assume you intend to make that argument, Mr. Phillips?”

“I do, Your Honor.”

“Then we’ll wait until you do before we enter it into evidence.”

Bart Phillips nodded and said, “I call Mr. Sam Hardy to the witness
stand.”

Jessie’s head snapped around. “Oh, shit.”

Morrison leaned closer. “Who is he? What haven’t you told me?”

“I forgot about him. I tore into his store one night when I was drunk,
and, to be honest, I don’t know what all I might’ve said.”

Morrison sighed. “Let’s see what he says. It may be nothing.”

“Late on the evening of August second, Mr. Martin Townsend and Danny
Taylor were eating in your restaurant, The Bluebird Café, when a car driven by
the accused, Jessie Whitaker, broke through the front of the building and the
accused vacated the car with a weapon in his hand threatening to kill Mr.
Taylor. Is that correct?”

Morrison stood. “Object, Your Honor. He’s leading the witness.”

“Sustained. You know better than that, Mr. Phillips.”

“My apologies. I’ll rephrase. Phillips turned to Sam Hardy. “Mr. Hardy,
unless there has been more than one occasion of a car bursting through the
front wall of your business, what happened on the night someone drove their car
through the front of your restaurant?”

Sam Hardy’s face showed his anger as did his tone. He pointed at Jessie.
“That man tore up my place with his car then jumped out all crazy waving a
pistol around, yelling all kinds of threats at that young fella there. I
remember him saying ‘he’s a dead man.’ ”

 Morrison leaped to his feet again. “Your Honor, there’s a big difference
in ‘waving a pistol around’ and pointing or firing a pistol in the specific direction
of someone. The former is too general and requires an assumption that my client
intended to use the weapon on Mr. Taylor, which does not meet the state of mind
or intention requirement to be used as evidence, and neither does the term ‘a
dead man.’ Neither offer evidence that Mr. Whitaker intended to kill anyone
himself or be a party to their death. Only that he was angry.”

Jessie tugged on Morrison’s coat.

“One moment, please, Your Honor.”

Jessie whispered that the police had told him Danny was involved with
Caroline’s kidnappers.

“Your Honor, prior to the time this event took place, Mr. Whitaker was
told by detectives that Mr. Taylor had been identified as an accomplice to the
kidnapping of Caroline Whitaker; therefore, any statement to the effect of Mr.
Taylor’s death could just have easily referred, if indeed that was the case, to
his death by the judicial system or by law enforcement. Admitting this witness’
statement as evidence of my client threatening to personally kill Mr. Taylor
would require an interpretation, which is, as you are well aware I’m sure, not
admissible. Mr. Whitaker did not say ‘I’m going to kill you’ or anything of a specific
nature. Not according to this witness. Unless the witness has evidence that Mr.
Whitaker specifically said he himself would be party to Mr. Taylor’s death, I
ask that he and any testimony other than that be excluded and the witness be
excused forthwith.”

“Do you have any such evidence, Mr. Phillips?” Judge Gilbert asked.

Phillips looked at Sam Hardy. “Mr. Hardy, did the accused use any
language that specifically stated he would be the instrument or cause of Mr.
Taylor’s death?”

Sam Hardy’s lips moved in his angry face as if he were trying to decide
what to say. Finally, he shook his head and said, “Everyone in the place knew
what he meant but—”

Morrison was on his feet again. “Your Honor—”

Judge Gilbert waved him down. “Your client can’t know the state of anyone
else’s mind, so, yes or no, did the defendant say he would be the agent of Mr.
Taylor’s death?”  

Phillips looked at Sam Hardy, who shook his head.

“No, Your Honor.”

The judge looked at the court recorder. “Strike all of this witness’
testimony. You’re excused, Mr. Hardy.”

 Bart Phillips’ entire strategy was to build a reverse timeline from the
time Lenny shot at Danny through all the incidents of Jessie threatening Danny,
showing through eyewitnesses that Jessie had threatened Danny’s life and was
the only person who had motive. Bernard and Danny were his only remaining
witnesses pertaining to the capital crimes, and Danny’s testimony might not be
allowed if it couldn’t be substantiated; Caroline was the only person who could
do that. Realizing that he’d let what he knew to be true take precedence over
what he could prove to be true, Phillips called his last hope, Bernard, to the
stand.

“No, no. I can do it myself,” Bernard grumbled as Danny tried to help him
to the stand.

“I ain’t climbing up there,” he said to Phillips in passing, referring to
the witness box.

Bernard hadn’t shaved or changed clothes in days, judging by the look and
smell of his faded blue jeans and T-shirt. Straggly shoulder-length hair might
have seen a comb yesterday but not today.

As the bailiff held the Bible to swear him in, Bernard’s head snapped
toward the judge. “Are you watching me?”

Judge Gilbert frowned. “It is my duty to watch people in my court, Mr.
Davis. And you don’t ask questions in here. I do. Myself and the two attorneys.
Is that clear?”

“Clear? Is what clear?” Bernard responded.

“Is what I told you clear? Do you understand it?”

“Course I do. I ain’t stupid.”

“Go ahead with your examination, Mr. Phillips,” the judge said, the
expression on his face matching the irritation in his voice.

“Mr. Davis, do you remember being shot on August fourth?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t you?”

“Did the man who shot you say anything prior to shooting you?”

“Asked about a boy and said I wouldn’t be the first. He was right scary
waving that pistola in my face. But I tricked him.”

“How was that, Mr. Davis?”
“Not telling you. Not with him watchin’,” he said pointing at Morrison. “See
that slicked down hair? Just like them Gooks use to look ‘cept shorter. Same
round glasses too. What y’all let him in here for anyways? He’s liable to have
a satchel charge and blow all our asses up.”

Phillips looked at Judge Gilbert and held up a finger, silently asking
the judge to give him a moment to explain Bernard’s condition.

“The Veterans Administration has you on medication. Is that right, Mr.
Davis?”

“You been snoopin’ round my medicine cabinet? How’d you know that?”

Morrison stood up but, before he could object, Phillips turned to the
judge. “May I approach the bench, Your Honor?”

“I’d say you’d better approach it very quickly,” Judge Gilbert said and
waved for Morrison to join them.

The three huddled on the opposite side of the judge’s seat from where
Bernard sat. “Judge, Mr. Davis was much more coherent when I last interviewed
him, and even though he is unorthodox in his statements, I can assure you his
testimony—”

Judge Gilbert leaned forward and pointed his finger at Phillips. “I can’t
believe you wasted the court’s time with this lack of hard evidence or more
reliable witnesses. Do you appreciate the attorney fees this man has to pay for
the serious allegations you brought against him?”

“I do, Your Honor, and I wouldn’t have called Mr. Davis if I’d been aware
of how severe his medical condition is. I’ve seen him on several occasions, and
he never gave any indication—”

Judge Gilbert held up his hand. “I’ve heard enough. Dismiss your
witness.”

Phillips walked around to Bernard. “Mr. Davis, thank you, sir. That will
be all for today.”

“Shore will, and you’d better be careful and watch that one,” Bernard said,
pointing at Morrison.