"I heard it, but they was old people who can't see good, nohow." Thevenot grinned at Luke.
"Mr. Thevenot, under oath, I want to ask you whether someone paid you to shoot Rodney Thibault?"
Thevenot looked at the judge, at Perkins, at Luke, and shifted his eyes all over the courtroom. "I don't gotta say nothin’."
"Your Honor, would you remind the witness that he's under oath and explain what that means. I have a couple of questions that I'd like to solicit truthful answers." Luke looked at DeYoung, who was looking at something on his desk.
"Mr. Thevenot." Judge DeYoung's clerk handed him a piece of paper, and he read it to Tucker. "You are under oath, which means that if you don't tell the truth while you are on the witness stand, you commit perjury. Perjury is a felony which carries a prison sentence of up to five years, plus fines and probation, after which you would be classified as a convicted felon for the rest of your life."
"Judge, if I'm convicted of shooting that man, I'll go down for longer than that."
"The jury might find you innocent, but you could still go to prison for five years if you lie." DeYoung's face got red, and he bent forward as though trying to get closer to Thevenot—in his face, so to speak. "I'm warning you, tell the truth, or I'll make sure you spend a lot of years in jail."
"Thank you, Your Honor." Luke wrote something on his pad and walked around the podium. "Mr. Thevenot, under oath, I want to ask you again: did anyone hire you to shoot Rodney and Susie Thibault?"
"I object, Your Honor." Perkins was on his feet. "There has been no testimony to open the door to that line of questioning."
"It goes to motive, Your Honor." Luke's voice was louder.
"I'll allow it." DeYoung nodded at Luke as though he wanted to hear the answer to that question himself.
"Mr. Thevenot, did someone hire you to shoot Rodney Thibault?"
"Where would you get that?" He squirmed in his seat.
"Answer the question." DeYoung glared at Thevenot.
"Do I have to?" Thevenot looked at his lawyer.
"May we approach the bench, Your Honor?" Perkins walked around his table, followed by his partner, whose name was Joseph Barton. All four lawyers leaned on DeYoung's bench and conferred for about five minutes. The lawyers returned to their tables, and the judge called for a ten-minute recess.
Perkins waited until the jury had filed out of the courtroom, and went to talk to his client who was still on the witness stand. We couldn't hear their conversation, but every now and then Thevenot nodded like he understood what Perkins said.
Perkins went to Luke's table. They bent their heads together and talked for a minute or two. The jury filed back in, the judge entered through the back door, and Luke returned to the podium.
"Mr. Thevenot, did you shoot Major Rodney Thibault?" Luke spoke in a deliberate and even voice.
"No." Thevenot crossed his arms over his chest and sat straight up with his legs spread and looked past Luke with a blank stare.
"Were you paid to shoot Mr. and/or Mrs. Thibault?"
"I plead the fifth."
"You can't plead the fifth, because you agreed to testify." Luke looked at Judge DeYoung, who told Thevenot he had to answer the question.
"What was the question?" Thevenot stared at Luke.
"I asked whether you were hired to shoot Mr. and/or Mrs. Thibault." Luke took a step towards the witness stand.
After a long pause, Thevenot said, "No." He seemed more agitated than ever, and I couldn't tell whether he was mad at Luke or contemplating what to say. After a delay that seemed pregnantly long, Thevenot lowered his head and almost in a whisper said, "I didn't shoot nobody, and that means no one hired me to shoot nobody."
The courtroom was deathly quiet. Luke didn't move, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was staring at Thevenot as though challenging him to change his last statement. I wondered what Luke meant when he asked Thevenot whether he was hired to shoot Susie and Rodney, but I tossed it up to legalese, and Luke's way of trying to trap Thevenot into admitting guilt.
"No more questions, Your Honor." Luke addressed DeYoung as though they were the only two people in the room.
"Do you have any redirect, Mr. Perkins?"
"No, Your Honor." Perkins looked confused.
"Does The State have any rebuttal evidence, Mr. McMath?" Judge DeYoung looked at Luke with a questioning expression.
"No, Your Honor, not at this time. No more questions." Luke remained standing.
"Mr. Perkins?" DeYoung almost looked sympathetic as he gazed at John Perkins.
"No, Your Honor. Not at this time." Perkins stood with his hands on the table, leaning forward as though the only thing keeping him from falling down was that table.
"Let's see. It's five thirty." The judge looked at his watch, then at the jurors. "All evidence has been presented, so the only things left are closing arguments and instructions tomorrow. Then you will begin deliberations. We'll adjourn until tomorrow morning at eight o'clock to begin those processes. Have a good evening, and remember not to discuss the case. You are not to repeat any of the testimony you heard."
The jury filed out, followed by the crowd of at least one hundred people who were packed into the small area of church pews behind the spindled partition.
Later, Luke told me that once the courtroom was cleared, Judge DeYoung looked directly at Thevenot and said, "Mr. Thevenot, you will be taken into custody, pending the outcome of this trial."
Two sheriff deputies walked toward the witness stand. One of them pulled Thevenot out of his seat, and the other handcuffed his hands behind his back. Thevenot hollered, "What the hell?" but the deputies ignored him.
"We've obtained the police report on the assault of Mr. Ron Bevy," the judge told Thevenot. "You violated the rules of your bond and will be placed in the parish jail, pending the outcome of this trial. I have taken great pain to have this arrest done away from the public, because I would not want to influence the jury as to your presumption of innocence. Your transportation to and from the jail for this trial will be done away from the public, and you will be allowed to wear street clothes in the courtroom."
DeYoung banged his gavel and motioned for the lawyers to follow him out of the Courtroom through his private door, while the deputies hauled Thevenot to the parish jail, kicking and screaming.
Chapter Seventeen
***
The Verdict
LUKE SLEPT IN the study at my garage apartment Monday night and was gone when I woke up the next morning. I arrived at the courthouse at seven thirty, worried I wouldn't get my regular seat, but the female deputy whom I'd befriended had saved the entire first pew for our family. I hugged and thanked her, and told her I wasn't sure if anyone else would be there. Just before eight o'clock, Tootsie walked in, followed by Tom and Sam's wives, Gloria and Josie. Tootsie sat right next to me and held my hand. I'd never been so happy to see a familiar face in my life. I felt frightened and alone, and I had an overwhelming sense that my life was about to change forever.
The judge entered, the jury filed in, and the lawyers took their places. Luke glanced at me and winked, which made me smile.
The judge and bailiff went through all the regular routines, which had become as familiar as brushing my teeth. The State and defense both waved polling, which meant the bailiff did not have to do roll call to make sure every juror was present and in their correct seat. Tucker sat in the witness chair.
"The court records say that when we adjourned yesterday you were questioning the defendant." The judge looked at John Perkins, who stood behind his table.
"Thank you, Your Honor." Perkins did not approach the podium. "The defense rests."
"Does the prosecution wish to cross?"
"No, Your Honor." Luke half-stood behind his table. "The prosecution rests."
"Mr. Thevenot, you may step down and return to the table with your lawyers." DeYoung's chest rose as though he'd inhaled a t
on of air. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the case is concluded for taking evidence. Now the state will present closing arguments. Mr. McMath?"
*
Luke stood behind his table, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and multi-colored Tabasco tie. He looked gorgeous.
"Thank you, Your Honor, and thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your patience in listening so attentively." Luke walked back and forth in front of the jury box and looked each juror in the eye as he talked. Every now and then, he'd return to the podium to look at his notes, then he'd go back to face the jury.
"This will be a summation, a reminder of the evidence we presented all last week. I'll try to make it short, but I'm going to cover everything so we can all be reminded about what we heard." Luke went through Thevenot's character flaws by reminding the jury about the women who said he held them at gunpoint when they were only thirteen and fourteen years old. "He beat them and threatened to kill them if they so much as spoke to a boy of the opposite race."
Luke also explained that several witnesses made it clear that Thevenot was prejudiced against black folks and spearheaded regular outings he called "the chase" where innocent young black men were lassoed with a rope, and pulled behind a truck until they were bleeding and half dead, and that some were beaten with a two-by-four.
"One witness described how he was hit across the face with a board, and another how he lost his daughter's birthday gift in the ditch he was dragged through—a doll, who lost an arm in the process." Luke looked at each juror and dropped his voice almost to a whisper. "I wonder how you would feel if someone of any race did those things to you." He paused for a long time.
"And no one ever charged Mr. Thevenot with a crime, not for assault or attempted murder. They didn't charge him because they didn't think it was worth the trouble. Think about that a minute…" Luke paused and looked at each juror, then continued.
"We also heard from eyewitnesses—people who saw Mr. Thevenot parked in front of the church in the famous blue truck from before one o'clock in the afternoon until after the shooting, when the blue truck sped away from the crime scene." Luke walked back to the jury box from the podium. "Remember Daniel Tyler, the bartender, who stopped to speak to Mr. Thevenot and the driver of the truck, Keith Rousseau, in front of the church just before one o'clock. Then, fifteen minutes later the two showed up in his bar and asked him if he'd ever killed a black man, although he used a term I won’t repeat. Did that leave you with any doubt?"
"What about the neighbor, Mrs. Lee, who lives across the street from the church and actually saw the shooting? Or Mr. Tim Laborde who lives next door to the rectory who positively identified Thevenot? Do you remember when Mr. Laborde pointed at Mr. Thevenot and said, "That man right there, he points something out the window, two shots are fired, and the truck peels out?"
Luke reminded them about Mr. Everett McCann, the church's caretaker who had the best view of the crime, and watched the blue truck, identified both men, saw the truck pull up in front of the church, saw Thevenot aim something out of the window, heard two shots, then turned to see the two victims on the ground, bleeding.
"Mr. Perkins might say you should have reasonable doubt, but do you?" Luke walked slowly back and forth in front of the jury box. "Can you, in your conscience, say there is any doubt whatsoever that Tucker Thevenot shot Rodney Thibault and intended not only to kill the major, but to also kill his wife?"
Luke went back to the podium and flipped through a couple of pages of his legal pad. He reminded the jury about the testimony of the police officers and firemen and said he presented that testimony so that the jury would be outraged that so many law enforcement officers were at the scene, but there was no police report, no investigation, no charges.
"It was like all the other crimes Mr. Thevenot and others have committed against African Americans in this parish." Luke took a deep breath. "Swept under the rug. How would you like it if your daughter was beaten and threatened with a gun, your father dragged through a ditch behind a truck, your brother made to dance in the street under the firing of bullets? Do you think because you're white it can't happen to you?
"And, what if those things happened to you or someone you loved and nothing… I mean nothing… was done about it? How would you feel?" Luke took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Every juror watched him and listened intently. Two of the women had tears running down their faces. The bailiff took a box of tissues and placed it on the ledge that ran across the front of the jury box.
Luke reminded the jury of the testimony of the doctors, all of whom said that Rodney should have died and Susie should be an invalid. Luke talked about Marianne, Lilly, Susie, and Rodney. He spoke about their character and the way they carried themselves. He said that they had class, they were educated, that they contributed to society.
"Listening to Major Thibault's testimony, did you think of him as a black man? Or did you think of him as a good man?" Luke looked at each juror in the face as though he could read their minds and figure out how to reach them. "If you cannot see Major Thibault as an example of the man you'd like to be, or you'd like your son to be, then I ask you, 'Why or why not?' If it's because he is African American, then I ask you to search your soul and ask yourself whether you and Major Thibault have the same God. And if you do, why is it that you were not born with darker skin? How can you not put yourself in his shoes?"
Luke told the jury that the defense's only witness was the defendant himself, who was not convincing when he said he didn't shoot Major Thibault and would not answer when he was asked if he was hired to do the job. Luke said that if the jury could not listen to Mr. Thevenot and see a difference between him and Major Thibault, they were blind, or they were brainwashed, in which case they should not serve on a jury.
"If you've been brainwashed to believe that there are different rules for black folks than there are for white folks, then you should have told the judge that so he could have disqualified you from serving." Luke walked slowly from the podium to the jury box. "I believe in you, ladies and gentlemen. I believe that each of you is an honest person who is serving on this jury because you can be fair and just; because you do not see color when there is a crime as serious and heinous as this one.
"You have to find the defendant guilty on both counts of attempted first degree murder of a beautiful woman and her husband, who served your country with honor. There are two reasons they are alive. First, Major Thibault had been trained to use his reflexes against an enemy, and he knew immediately that Mr. Thevenot, who was sitting in that blue truck in front of the church, was the enemy.
"The second reason the major survived is what experts—physicians, surgeons, doctors called a miracle. These experts said that Major and Mrs. Thibault should both be dead and Mr. Thevenot should be facing the death penalty. But by the grace of God, they lived. Should Mr. Thevenot be let off the hook because of the major's reflexes and a miracle from heaven?
"No. You must search your conscience and find the defendant guilty… Thank you." Luke took a deep breath. There was the silence of death in the courtroom while he looked at each juror individually, smiled, turned to tell the judge thank you, and returned to his table.
Finally, the judge spoke. "All right." He cleared his throat, and sat up straight in his chair. "Mr. Perkins, does the defense wish to make a closing argument?"
*
"Yes, Your Honor." John Perkins gathered his tablets and almost stumbled to the podium. He shuffled his notes as though he didn't know where to begin. "I know you're tired. I'm tired, too. And I don't do lectures, so I asked myself what I'm doing up here because I don't like to lecture people, but there are some facts I'd like to talk about."
Perkins went through every witness the prosecution brought before the court and attempted to discredit each of them. He said the two girls who said they'd been brutalized were too young to distinguish between violence and a boy's affection for them. He said that the black men who said they'd been stalk
ed, lassoed, and terrorized by his client were disgruntled victims of a long line of people who thought every white man who joked with them and intimidated them were trying to hurt them. Perkins said that the cops didn't file a police report on the shooting at the church because there was nothing to report and that the firemen agreed, after speaking to lots of guests at the wedding—that no one saw anything.
"When it came to the doctors, I can't say for sure those doctors didn't get together and decide they would all say that Mr. Thibault should have died, and that a miracle saved him. When's the last time you heard a doctor deviate from scientific facts?" Perkins put the posters on the easel from the ballistics expert that showed the bullets were meant to hit Susie and Rodney between the eyes. He tried to make the jury believe that the lines from the truck to the images of the victims were incorrect.
"The prosecutor tried to wow you by parading the Thibaults and their daughter in here so you would feel sympathy for them." Perkins grinned at the jurors and paced in front of the jury box. "Don't let them pull that stunt on you. You're too smart to be swayed by some showboat stunt like that. Just because that white woman is pretty and her husband was in the army, should not make you see them as innocent victims who didn't deserve what happened to them. They had been warned for twenty years not to get married in Jean Ville. What did they expect? They are not innocent, nor are they victims."
I watched Luke scribble something on his legal pad and push his elbow into Peter's side. They nodded at each other, and Luke continued to write.
"But that is not the point. The point is there is no substantial evidence that proves my client shot Mr. Thibault, not enough evidence that showed he or anyone intended to shoot Mrs. Thibault." He walked back to the podium and flipped through several pages in his legal pad.
"I'm not going to take up any more of your time. Ladies and gentlemen, you must find my client not guilty on all charges. Thank you." Perkins picked up all his papers and walked towards his table. Several papers slipped from under his arm to the floor, and he bent to pick them up. His face was red, and he looked flustered.
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