Wildfire (18 page)

"Yes, I did."

"May I approach the witness, your honor?"

"Go ahead."

"Special Agent Lightstone, do you recognize this document I have in my hand as being a true and representative copy of that investigative report?" The prosecuting attorney handed Lightstone a ribbon-and-grommet-sealed report that appeared to consist of about fifty typewritten pages. Lightstone examined the report briefly, verified his signature on the header page, and then nodded.

"Yes, I do."

"Your honor, prosecution would move to place Special Agent Lightstone's investigative report into evidence as people's next in order."

"No objections, your honor," defense attorney Jason Bascomb III added with only a mild theatrical sigh.

"So ordered."

"Thank you, your honor. No further questions of this witness at this time."

"Counsel?"

"Thank you, your honor," Jason Bascomb III said as he stood up and walked over to a midpoint between the defense table and the witness box.

"Special Agent Lightstone, my client, Roy Parker, whom you may recognize as being the gentleman with the crutches sitting on what would be your right side of the defense table, is recovering from a number of bullet wounds. Do you know how he acquired those wounds?"

"No, sir, I do not."

"Oh really? He seems to believe that you were the one who shot him."

"Objection, argumentative," Theresa Fletcher spoke up.

"Sustained."

"Special Agent Lightstone, is it possible that you did, in fact, fire one or more shots at Mr. Parker up near Skilak Lake, on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska, during a time when he and his companions were legally hunting ?

"Sir, I don't know for a fact if I ever have fired a shot at Mr. Parker, and I don't know if he has ever been hunting, legal or otherwise, at Skilak Lake in Alaska," Lightstone replied evenly.

"But you shot at
someone
up at Skilak Lake during the dates and times in question, did you not?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"In fact, according to your report, you fired quite a number of shots at two or more individuals, one of whom might very well have been my client, isn't that true?"

"That's possible, yes."

"Are you telling the court that you don't
know
whether or not you shot at two people?"

"Refuge Officer Sam Johnson and I became involved in a gun battle with at least two individuals while we were in the process of conducting a law enforcement investigation at Skilak Lake in Alaska," Lightstone responded. "I didn't—"

"You mean fishing, don't you?" the defense attorney interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said you were fishing, not conducting an investigation. Isn't that correct?"

"Refuge Officer Johnson, Special Agent Thomas Woeshack, a civilian named Marie Pascalaura, and I were fishing on Skilak lake just prior to our conducting the investigation. Yes, that's correct."

"I see." Jason Bascomb III nodded dubiously. "And then, according to your report, you heard gunshots and decided to abandon your fishing trip and conduct a law enforcement investigation. Presumably to see if people were hunting illegally in the area. Correct?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Well, were they?"

"What?"

"Were they hunting illegally?"

"I . . . don't know."

"Actually, Special Agent Lightstone, in point of fact, you really can't prove that
anyone you ended up shooting at during this incident
was, in fact, hunting illegally in the area of Skilak Lake, isn't that true?"

Henry Lightstone started to answer and then hesitated.

"And I would ask the court to remind the witness that he is required to answer only the question being asked," Jason Bascomb III added.

"I think the witness is aware of his responsibilities in that regard," the judge responded dryly. "Agent Lightstone, do you understand the question that defense counsel has asked?"

"Yes, I believe I do, your honor." Lightstone nodded, and then turned to Bascomb. "No, sir, I can't prove that any of the individuals involved in the gun battle with Refuge Officer Johnson and myself were illegally hunting at the time."

"And, in fact, you don't even know who any of those individuals are, do you?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"Oh, and getting back to Refuge Officer Johnson for a moment. You described him as taking part in this gun battle, but in fact, he never did fire his weapon at anyone, did he?"

"No, sir, he was hit almost immediately . . ."

"By a rifle bullet that might have been inadvertently fired in his direction by my client while in the process of hunting?"

"By a large-caliber bullet that went completely through his shoulder and was never recovered," Lightstone corrected. "I don't have any reason to believe—"

"That my client was engaged in legal hunting activities and accidentally mistook you and your associate for a bear when he fired a shot in your direction, unfortunately striking Refuge Officer Johnson in the upper-chest area?"

"That's correct."

"In your report, Agent Lightstone, you claimed that you were assaulted by two individuals dressed in military camouflage clothing and carrying military assault rifles, and—oh, yes—that in the course of the events that followed, you actually shot and killed one of those individuals at close range with ... I believe it was Refuge Officer Johnson's pistol. Is that an accurate version of what happened?"

"It's a summarized version of what happened, yes, sir."

"Tell me, Agent Lightstone, the FBI investigated that—uh—crime scene, did they not?"

"Yes, they did."

"And did they find any evidence of this shooting you described?"

"One of their divers found a military sniper rifle and expended brass casings in the water nearby."

"And as I understand it, that diver also found your issued duty weapon, a stainless steel Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum in the same location. The weapon, I believe, that you claimed to have discarded because it was empty?"

"That I dropped on the ground because it was empty, and I had no more ammunition for it, yes."

"I see." Jason Bascomb III nodded skeptically as he began to walk slowly back and forth across the courtroom.

"And wasn't there some mention of an assault rifle that you supposedly acquired from the individual you claimed to have killed?"

"Yes, sir, a .223 Colt Commando rifle."

"Which, as you indicated in your report, was destroyed in the fire that resulted from the crash of the airplane that you and Special Agent Woeshack were flying in, is that correct?"

"Yes. The weapon was recovered from the wreckage by the FBI," Lightstone said.

"But so badly burned that the serial number could not be restored, so we have no way of knowing whether or not this weapon might have come from a Fish and Wildlife Service armory, do we?"

"Objection, argumentative," Deputy U.S. Attorney Theresa Fletcher responded.

"Sustained."

"But getting back to this individual you claim to have killed," Jason Bascomb III went on smoothly. "To your knowledge, did the FBI ever find this man's body, or for that matter, any evidence whatever to indicate that such a man might have been killed in the manner and location you described in your report?"

As Henry Lightstone's eyes followed the back-and-forth movements of the defense attorney, he noticed that the hatred in Alex Chareaux's eyes had been replaced by a look of confusion, and that Gerd Maas was openly smiling now.

"Agent Lightstone?"

Lightstone blinked, then recovered his concentration. "No, sir, as far as I am aware, no evidence of the shooting I described in my report was ever located by the FBI crime scene team, nor was the subject's body ever recovered."

"Yet isn't it also true, Agent Lightstone, during some considerable portion of the FBI investigation that followed, the supervisor of this same team of FBI Agents considered you to be a primary suspect in the killing of Special Agent in Charge Paul McNulty, your own supervisor? An event that occurred at approximately the same time and location as your self-described gun battle?"

Henry Lightstone nodded silently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear your answer?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Absolutely amazing," Jason Bascomb III said, shaking his head for a moment.

"Your honor—" the prosecuting attorney started to protest, but the judge waved her off.

"Stick with your line of questioning, counsel," the judge growled impatiently.

"Yes, your honor. Uh, now then, Agent Lightstone, getting back to that shooting incident at Skilak Lake, I believe you indicated you couldn't prove that any of the individuals involved in this gun battle with Refuge Officer Johnson and yourself were illegally hunting at the time the shooting started, isn't that correct?"

"Yes, it is," Lightstone nodded.

"But that didn't stop you from firing, what, sixty or seventy rounds at these same individuals, many of those from the vantage point of a circling airplane, did it?"

"I was defending—"

"Please just answer the question as asked, Agent Lightstone. Isn't it true, according to the information in your own investigative report, that you fired approximately sixty or seventy pistol and rifle bullets, from the air and on the ground, at these unknown individuals near Skilak Lake?"

"Approximately that, yes."

"All right. Fifty or sixty." Jason Bascomb III nodded as he stopped at the defense table to make a note on a legal pad. "Now then, do you know approximately how many shots you yourself fired during the raid at Whitehorse Cabin?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"Well, considering that you were armed at that time with an M-16 automatic assault rifle and a substantial number of thirty-round magazines, in addition to a Smith & Wesson 10mm semiautomatic pistol, with what, three nine-round magazines, shall we say approximately another hundred or so rifle and pistol shots, just to be on the conservative side?"

"That's certainly possible, yes. I wasn't counting—"

"Making a total of, what, a hundred and sixty to a hundred and seventy shots fired during this one investigation? At a minimum," the lead defense attorney added, looking up from his legal pad.

"That's possible, yes." Lightstone nodded.

"Special Agent Lightstone, do you have any idea how many times the average police officer in this country fires his duty weapon in the course of his entire law enforcement career, not counting practice at the firing range?"

"Objection, irrelevant!" Theresa Fletcher called out, standing up from her chair and glaring over at the defense attorney.

"Sustained."

"By comparison, Agent Lightstone, were you aware that the total number of shots fired by Clint Eastwood in all his
Dirty Harry
movies was only—"

"Objection!"

"Sustained." The judge sighed heavily. "Counsel is admonished to keep in mind that there is no jury in this courtroom and that the court has very little patience with this line of questioning."

"I'm truly sorry, you honor." Jason Bascomb III nodded apologetically. "I will stick to specifics from now on."

"Thank you," the judge growled.

"Special Agent Lightstone," the defense attorney went on, "did you engage in any kind of altercation with my client, Mr. Alex Chareaux, during this—uh—raid you conducted?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"Did you shoot at Mr. Chareaux?"

Lightstone had to stop and think for a minute. "No, sir, I did not."

"Oh, really." The defense attorney smiled. "And pray tell, why not?"

"I . . . my pistol was empty at the time."

"Yes, I suppose all things considered, that's really not too surprising." Jason Bascomb III nodded.

"Your honor!" Theresa Fletcher leaped to her feet again.

"I'm sorry, you honor. My apologies. Uh, so, Agent Lightstone, I assume by your answer that you engaged my client, Mr. Chareaux, with what, your bare hands?"

"That's right."

"And in the process, successfully rendered him unconscious?"

"Yes."

"With a—what do you call it?—carotid choke hold?"

"That's correct."

"Tell me, Agent Lightstone, were you aware, at the time you were applying a choke hold to the throat of my client, that Mr. Chareaux was himself a prisoner of Miss Lisa Abercombie and Dr. Morito Asai?"

"No, I have no knowledge of anything like that," Lightstone responded. "When I first observed Mr. Chareaux, he was running directly toward me with a knife in his hand. He didn't appear to be a prisoner."

"Did it occur to you that Mr. Chareaux might, in fact, have been running from his captors, rather than running toward you?"

"No, it didn't."

"No, I suppose not." Jason Bascomb III nodded. "I take it that in addition to your considerable—uh—experience with firearms, Agent Lightstone, you have also had some martial arts training?"

"Yes, I have."

"In fact, you've had quite a bit of training, haven't you? I understand you hold a third-degree black belt in a discipline of karate?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you acquire that training with the San Diego Police Department?"

"No, sir, it was on my own. Mostly in high school and college."

"Amazing." The defense attorney shook his head.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh—uh—that's all right, never mind." Jason Bascomb III held up his hand in apology, and then hesitated for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts.

"Now then, Special Agent Lightstone," the defense attorney went on, "I think it is apparent to everyone in this courtroom that my client, Mr. Gerd Maas, is still in the process of recovering from severe injuries. Do you happen to have any personal knowledge as to how he acquired those injuries?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Would you please explain."

"During the raid I fired four rounds from a .223 Colt Commando rifle at Mr. Maas, striking him in both shoulders and both knees."

"I see. Would that be the same model of rifle that you used at Skilak Lake?"

"Uh, yes, sir, that's correct."

"And didn't the shooting of Mr. Maas occur almost immediately after you fought with Mr. Chareaux and rendered him unconscious?"