I barely heard her testimony as she described being fourteen years old when Tucker and Keith grabbed her. "They pulled me under the bleachers and that guy over there," she pointed at Thevenot, "He pulled my shorts off and stuck his gun between my legs and threatened to blow up my private parts if I ever so much as spoke to a black guy." She spat the words out quickly, like tearing a Band-Aid off with one swift pull—acute but short-lived pain. She must have held her breath because her face was red, and her lips were pursed together. I held mine too, and after she said, "gun between my legs," I shut down and barely heard the rest until Luke asked her whether she was married now and she said she was divorced and had three children.
"I'm a nurse at the Baptist Hospital in Alexandria," she said, and I thought that, if she could survive what she'd been through, maybe I could, too. But would I survive being a witness to something so cruel without trying to help her when she needed it?
"What he did, well it changed me. It has haunted me all these years, and I've been to counseling and tried to move on, but the trauma, the way he did it and left me there under the bleachers, half-naked, bleeding, humiliated. There was a crowd that had gathered to watch. They saw it all." She looked up and I felt as though she stared at me, accusing me of being in that crowd and not helping her. She had every reason to hate me. I hated myself for what I'd done, or hadn't done.
She started to cry, and the judge made a sign to his clerk, who left the bench and took a box of Kleenex to the witness. Callie pulled three tissues out of the box, blew her nose, and dabbed at her eyes.
"Ms. Saucier, you said something that I'd like to follow up on." Luke resumed his professional tone. "You said you were bleeding. Can you tell me why?"
She took a deep breath and, once again, spoke as though ripping off a Band-Aid. "He hit me in the eye with his gun. It split my cheek open."
*
"Does the defense have any questions for Ms. Saucier?" Judge DeYoung made a note on a pad then lifted his chin and looked at John Perkins.
"Yes, Your Honor." Perkins got up and went to the podium. "Good morning Ms. Saucier. I'm John Perkins, and I represent Mr. Tucker Thevenot. You said that your encounter with Mr. Thevenot took place ten years ago. Is that right?"
"Yes, sir." Callie looked confused.
"Are you the same person you were ten years ago, Ms. Saucier?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"Well, have you changed over the past ten years? Matured? Grown wiser? Become more empathetic, less self-centered, since you had children. Stuff like that?" Perkins had his hands in the pockets of his slacks, his suit coat pushed back behind his arms.
"Yes. Of course." Her look of confusion was replaced with a defiant expression.
"Do you think that happens to most people? That they grow up and mature after they are out of high school?" Perkins had a lilt in his voice as though he'd won a prize.
"I suppose so." Her forehead wrinkled, and her eyes squinted as though she were trying to bring Perkins into focus.
"No more questions, Your Honor." Perkins walked back to his table.
"Any redirect, Mr. McMath?" Judge DeYoung asked.
"No, Your Honor." Luke seemed satisfied with whatever had just happened. He returned to his table, sat down, and leaned back in his chair, the back of it extended like a recliner.
"Ms. Saucier, you are free to go, but make sure somebody has your number in case you're called back." Judge DeYoung smiled at the witness.
*
Luke and his team stood and stretched. Detective Sherman left the room, and Luke and Peter Swan talked to each other. I hoped he would look my way so I could wink at him, but he never did. I reminded myself that this was the biggest case he'd ever been assigned as lead attorney and he needed to stay focused.
"The State calls Rella Moran." Luke stood behind the prosecution's table and spoke loudly. A young black girl, probably eighteen or ninteteen years old, entered the courtroom and stood next to the witness box. The bailiff swore her in.
"Do you know the defendant, Mr. Thevenot?" Luke asked Miss Moran.
"I don't know him, but I've seen him before." She looked afraid and glanced into the gallery as though looking for someone. I followed her eyes and saw a woman about thirty-five or forty years old, who was probably the witness's mother. The older woman nodded and smiled at the witness.
"Can you tell me where you saw him and what happened?" Luke stood on the side of the podium with one arm resting on the surface, the other hand in his pocket, looking casual and non-threatening.
"Well, it was at a football game five years ago. I was thirteen, in the eighth grade. I was walking to the concession stand during half-time, and that man right there," Rella Moran pointed at Tucker Thevenot, "He grabbed me and pulled me way up under the bleachers and pulled a pistol out of his pocket. There was another guy who held me down while that man started yelling at me to stay away from the white guys on the football team. He called me a nigga and said girls like me ended up dead. He hit me with his fist and beat my head with his gun. I guess I was knocked out, because when I came to, my mama was bending over me, pouring water over my face. The game was over, and everybody was gone."
"Did you report this crime to the police?"
"No, sir. My mama took me to the hospital, and they examined me." She looked down at her hands that were folded in her lap. She spoke so softly, I could barely hear her, and twice the judge asked her to speak up. "Then the doctor called the police, and they came to interview me. My mama went to meet with the district attorney. He recommended we drop it."
"Was there another reason you didn't file charges?" Luke asked.
"Yes, sir. I was scared of what Tucker Thevenot would do to me. He threatened to shoot me if I went to the police."
"Did you believe him?" Luke took one step back towards the podium and looked at the judge, who grinned. "Did you believe that he would shoot you?"
"Oh yes." She looked up at Luke with a furrowed brow. "He held a gun to the side of my head and clicked back the trigger. It scared me to death."
"Do you know what kind of gun it was?"
"Yes, sir." She nodded her head as if to emphasize that she, indeed, knew about guns. "My dad has one. It was exactly like my dad's. A 45-caliber Smith and Wesson."
Luke said he had no more questions, and the judge asked Perkins whether he had questions for this witness.
*
Perkins strolled to the podium and introduced himself.
"You said that your encounter with Mr. Thevenot took place five years ago. Is that right?"
"Yes, sir." Rella inhaled. "I was thirteen."
"Do you remember if Mr. Thevenot said anything to you?" Perkins put his hands behind his back and cupped them together.
"Yes, sir. He told me he would shoot me."
"Anything else?" He stood with his legs apart, cocky.
"Let me think." Her nose lifted, and her brow wrinkled. "He told me I was pretty."
"Do you remember what you were wearing that night? At the football game?" Perkins was going somewhere with his line of questioning, and I was interested in how he would make it look like beating and tormenting a thirteen-year-old child with a gun was okay.
"It was hot. I think I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt." She kept glancing into the gallery at her parents.
"Would they have been very short shorts and a cropped T-shirt?"
"I don't think so, no." She talked slower, as though she had to think about what she said before she said it.
"Are you known to dress indecently?" Perkins said it quickly because he knew there would be an objection. Luke was on his feet before Perkins completed his question, then said he was done with the witness.
"Any redirect?" The judge looked at Luke.
*
"Briefly." Luke stood up behind the table, didn't go to the podium. "Just for the record. Do you remember what you were wearing that night, Miss Moran?"
&n
bsp; "I don't remember exactly, but I think it was shorts and a T-shirt." She was much more relaxed with Luke's questions than with Perkins's.
"Were you at the game alone or with friends, and what were they wearing?"
"I went with my parents and little brother. Some of my friends were there, and two of them went with me to the concession stand. We were all dressed the same. I remember we called each other before the game to talk about what we would wear, so we all dressed alike, uh, not the same colors, but we were all in shorts and T-shirts."
"Would your parents have taken you to a public place if you were dressed indecently?" Luke was still standing behind the table. He had a pen in one hand that he was tapping on the palm of his other hand.
"Oh, no, sir. My daddy is very strict about that stuff." She shook her head side to side and looked into the gallery and smiled. "He makes sure I dress like a lady."
"So you don't remember how you were dressed, but you are sure your dad wouldn't have taken you to the ball game in short shorts and a cropped shirt, right?"
"That's right, yes."
"No more questions, Your Honor."
The judge told Rella Moran she could leave, but to make sure the court knew how to contact her if they needed for her to return.
"Next witness." He looked at Luke and nodded.
*
"The State calls Billy Buras."
Billy Buras was a big, burly man with a potbelly and a full beard. I wouldn't have wanted to be caught in a dark alley with a wooly-booger like him; he gave me the spooks. He stated his full name as Billy Bob Buras. Who'd name a kid that? I mean, at one time he was a kid, right?
He said he was thirty-five, divorced, and had four children, "That I know of." He laughed at his own joke as though everyone caught it. He said he knew Thevenot—that they used to go in the woods hunting together.
"There would be a crew, like maybe six or seven fellows." He put his hand in the air, palms towards Luke, and raised six fingers, then seven. "Sometimes a couple off them would go off with Tucker and Keith. They said they were going to chase women, but I didn't go with them, except one time."
"Can you tell me about that one time?"
"Me and Tucker went to this nigger joint in the Quarters near the Indian Park." He scratched his beard and pulled on it, like a caveman. "We waited until a couple of those jiggaboos came out of the bar and got in their car and we followed them. Tucker was driving Keith's old truck, and when we got down that dark road, he got close up behind the niggas and started hitting the back of their car with his front bumper. At first, it was kind of fun, but then he took out his pistol and started shooting at the car. He shot out a tire and their car peeled off to the side and went in the ditch. Tucker put the truck in park and jumped out. I watched because it was like a movie, and I was like the audience."
"What did you see?" Luke stepped to the side of the podium as though he was very interested in the story Buras told.
"Well the niggas got out of their car and said, 'What the hell,' and Tucker, well, he started shooting at their feet and yelling at them to dance." Buras took a deep breath and stared at Luke. "And they did. Man, I couldn't believe he could shoot that many bullets at their feet and not hit one of them."
"Did he?"
"Well, at first he didn't, but after a while, one of them fell down screaming and holding his leg." Buras scrunched his mouth as though he remembered something distasteful. "I saw blood, but Tucker, well he jumped in the truck and peeled out. I didn't get to see how bad they was injured."
"Did Mr. Thevenot say anything to you after that incident?" Luke took a step backwards, towards the podium. The judge smiled.
"He said, 'That was fun.'" Buras took a breath. "I asked him if he'd ever done that kind of thing before and he said, 'All the time. Where you been?'"
"Do you know what he meant by that?"
"The next day I asked a couple of my friends who went with Tucker on chases, and they said where did I get the idea they was chasing girls when they was chasing darkies."
Perkins said he had no questions for Billy Bob Buras and the judge excused the witness, then called for a recess. The clock on the back wall said twelve thirty. I wondered whether I would be able to convince Luke to have lunch with me. I walked into the hall and followed Lilly into a private conference room where Detective Sherman and Lt. Schiller were talking to Susie and Rodney. He looked tired, and they were trying to decide whether they could let him go home for the afternoon. Luke walked in with his team, and they sat around the conference table. He ignored me, as though I were invisible standing next to Susie.
Luke told Susie that she and Rodney could go home, that he wouldn't call them until later in the week, and he would give them advance notice so they would be ready. Luke sat in a chair he'd pulled in front of Rodney's wheelchair and leaned forward. Susie sat next to her husband with her hand on his knee. "I want to call you closer to the end when you'll have the most impact, Rodney."
"Thanks, Luke." Susie patted Rodney's knee. "He's very tired. He hasn't been up this long."
"I understand." Luke shook Rodney's hand, then held the door open while Susie pushed Rodney through it. Lilly followed them out, and I followed Lilly.
*
After lunch, a black man named Wade Dolan took the stand. He said he was twenty-one years old, and testified that just last year Tucker Thevenot and Keith Rousseau chased him through the outskirts of town in an old blue truck. He said Keith drove and Tucker hung out the window and swung a rope, like a lasso.
"He throwed the rope over me, and they sped up, and the rope was tied around my waist, and I couldn't keep up with the speed of the truck. I fell, and they dragged me a ways. I was all scratched up, and the seat of my blue jeans was worn through." Wade Dolan had a high forehead and wide-set eyes. He had large lips, and a wide nose with big nostrils that flared when he talked. His hair was cropped short, almost in a crew cut, and his ears stuck out like Dumbo. He was tall and skinny and didn't look like he was strong enough to fight a two-year-old, much less two strong Cajun boys.
"What happened next?" Luke stood behind the podium and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"They stopped the truck and that guy over there," Dolan pointed to Thevenot. "He got out and had a board in his two hands, like a piece of lumber you use to build a barn. And he come after me with it, but as soon as that truck had stopped, I wiggled out of the rope and took off running. That guy there started to run after me, then he stopped, and when I turned around I didn't see him or the blue truck no more. So I slowed down and walked through the alley between Mr. Joe Coulon's store and the Feed and Seed. When I come out on Chenevert Street, soon as I walked out of the alley, I felt something hit me across the face, and I seed stars. I fell flat on my back, and when I squinted my eyes open, I saw that man over there holding that board and laughing. He threw the board in the bed of that old blue pickup, and they sped off, tires squealing on the blacktop road."
I marveled that these kinds of things could still happen in 1984, and there were no repercussions. It was a small wonder that bigots like Thevenot and Rousseau went on the rampage. They could get away with anything they did to black people. I was disgusted as I sat there and listened to the brutal things white people did to African Americans, and recalled witnessing similar events and thinking nothing of them. I hated myself, and I hated the town I grew up in.
*
Another black man, named Ron Bevy, said that the same two guys ran him down only a few weeks ago. The judge asked Mr. Bevy if he remembered the date.
"Yes, sir. I sure do because it was my little girl's birthday." He smiled and had large white teeth that seemed to catch the light and shimmer like snow in sunshine. "She turned four, and I'd gone to town to buy her a doll for her birthday present."
"What was that date, Mr. Bevy?" Judge DeYoung wrote something down and motioned for one of the deputies to come to the bench.
"It was May 15,
sir." Mr. Bevy had light skin, with big freckles on his nose and cheeks. His eyes were small, and he had thick eyebrows. His nose wasn't overly large, nor were his eyes, but they were wide-set, and he had frizzy hair and a large forehead.
Judge DeYoung looked from the defense table to the prosecution, and I could tell that something was amiss. All four lawyers went to the tall desk in the front corner of the room. They bent their heads together for about five minutes. Perkins banged his fist on the Judge's desk once, and the Judge pointed a finger at him. My lip reading wasn't very good, but I could swear the Judge told Perkins he would hold him in contempt if he pulled another stunt like that. Perkins backed away from the bench a few steps. A few minutes later, the lawyers returned to their places.
"Proceed, Mr. McMath." The judge bent to the side and said something to his clerk, who nodded and wrote on the legal pad in front of her.
"Tell the jury what happened."
"Well, sir. That man over there," Bevy pointed to Thevenot. I wished I could have seen the defendant's expression because Bevy didn't seem the least bit afraid of Thevenot. "He come after me that day when I was walking home from town. I had my little girl's present with me. I'd even paid the lady at the Five and Dime to gift wrap it."
"You say he went after you." Luke looked up from the podium at Mr. Bevy. "Was he on foot, on a bicycle, in a car? And where exactly were you?"
"I was on Roy Street headed to my house near the Indian Park when I heard a motor come up behind me and I could hear it idle like it was going real slow, following me. I moved into the ditch so they wouldn't run over me, but I didn't look back. Before I know it, there's a rope around my waist and the vehicle, now I know it was an old blue truck, it takes off in front of me and starts to pull me along. That man over there, he was holding the end of the rope out the window on the passenger side and was laughing so hard I couldn't see his eyes." Bevy took a breath and said something to the judge. The judge said something to the clerk, and she left the room.
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