CHAPTER 51
ILLUMINATION
The next morning, we were in a much better mood and were joking and laughing like we were at a church picnic. It was amazing that we could even stay awake since we hadn't got more than a couple hours sleep. Trenton Lee looked at us curiously. I'm sure he was wondering why we were so jovial when our defense had just gone down the toilet. I looked in the gallery and was glad to see Raymond Farr and his CDA contingent had made it. They were going to particularly enjoy today's session, I just knew it.
The bailiff ordered the court in session and Judge Justice took the bench. After he had straightened up his desk and conferred briefly with the court reporter he asked the bailiff to bring in the jury and the witness from the previous day. When the jury was seated, the judge looked at me and nodded.
"You may proceed with your cross-examination of the witness, Mr. Turner."
"Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Harris, what kind of business are you in?"
"I'm a graphic artist," he replied.
"Do you have any interest in a business called S & T Packing, Inc.?"
"Yes, I'm the majority stockholder."
"What kind of business is that?"
"A commodities export business."
"You mean like fruit and nuts?"
"Well, pretty much. All kinds of vegetables too."
"Has S & T ever engaged in the illegal export of arms?"
The smile on Harris' face faded. "No. Of course not."
"You know you are under oath, right? If you lie to this court you could be punished for perjury. You may want to take the fifth."
"Objection! Your Honor, Mr. Turner is badgering the witness and this whole line of testimony is irrelevant," Trenton said.
"Sustained."
"I apologize. I'm not trying to badger you, Mr. Harris, but I have a witness outside who is prepared to testify that you do export illegal arms from S & T Packing. I think you'll remember your ex-partner, Ronald Green."
Harris took a deep breath, looked at Trenton Lee, and then back at me. "I think maybe I would like to confer with my attorney before I answer any more questions."
"Is your attorney present, Mr. Harris?" the judge asked.
"No, Your Honor."
"Well, you're not on trial here. We don't have time to let you go obtain counsel. You have a choice—invoke the Fifth Amendment if you think your testimony might tend to incriminate you or answer the question."
Harris licked his lips nervously then took a deep breath. I looked over a Raymond Farr and he looked distressed. He got up and started to leave the courtroom. The bailiff stopped him and escorted him to the jury room to wait. I had alerted the bailiff that I wanted to call Raymond Farr as a rebuttal witness and didn't want him leaving.
"I'll invoke the Fifth Amendment then," Harris said.
"All right. Since you don't want to talk about your illegal arms trade, let's change the subject."
"What's your relationship to the CDA?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Well, are you a member?"
"No."
"Do you or S & T Packing sell them arms?"
"I'll invoke the fifth amendment again."
"Do you know Raymond Farr?"
"Yes."
"How long have you known him?"
"A long time. We were roommates in college."
"Where did you go to college?"
"The University of Texas."
"So whose idea was it to kill Bobby Tuttle? Yours or Raymond Farr's?"
"Objection!" Trenton screamed. "Assumes facts not in evidence—move the jury be instructed to disregard."
"Sustained," the judge ruled. "The jury will disregard the question."
"Since we know now that you didn't kill Bobby Tuttle let me ask you this: did you know he was going to be killed?"
"No."
"Didn't Raymond Farr order his death?"
"No. Absolutely not."
"Do you know who killed Bobby Tuttle?"
Harris hesitated one instant too long and then replied, "Dusty Thomas."
"Did you see Dusty Thomas kill Agent Tuttle?"
"No."
"So, do you know who killed Agent Tuttle?"
"No."
"Do you know Ernesto Garcia?"
"Yes."
"Does he work at S & T Packing?"
"Yes, he's a foreman there."
"Is this the same Ernesto Garcia who was a witness against my law partner, Paula Waters, when she was recently on trial for failure to stop and render aid."
"I . . . I think so."
"Was setting up Paula Waters your idea or Raymond Farr's?"
"Objection!" Trenton Lee exclaimed. "Assumes facts not in evidence."
"Sustained," the judge said.
"Did you conspire with Ernesto Garcia, Brian Armstrong, or Maria Cabrillo to falsely accuse Paula Waters of leaving the scene of an accident. . . . Feel free to take the fifth."
"Objection!" Trenton yelled.
"Withdrawn. Pass the witness," I replied.
"Any rebuttal, Mr. Lee? The judge asked.
"No, Your Honor."
"Then call your next witness."
"That was our last witness," Trenton said. "The state rests."
"Very well. Mr. Turner, you may call your first witness."
"Yes, Your Honor. We call Raymond Farr."
The judge looked at the bailiff and said, "Bring in Mr. Farr please."
The bailiff nodded and went into the jury room. A moment later he emerged without the witness and went up to the bench. Trenton and I joined him at the bench.
"Your Honor," the bailiff said. "I've been informed by Mr. Farr that he will not testify and will invoke the fifth amendment on any question that might be asked him."
The judge nodded. "All right. Step back, please."
Trenton and I returned to our seats and all eyes were on the judge. He said, "I've been advised that the witness Mr. Turner wanted to call, Mr. Raymond Farr, has invoked his right under the Constitution of the United States not to testify on grounds that it might tend to incriminate him. Therefore, he will not be testifying."
The gallery exploded in conversation and the judge banged his gavel to restore order. When it had quieted down, he continued, "Mr. Turner, do you have any other witnesses?"
"Yes, Your Honor. We call Mr. Lewis Lance."
Another buzz went up in the courtroom and the bailiff stood up and glared at the spectators. Finally the bailiff went and got Mr. Lance and escorted him to the witness stand. He looked scared. After he took his seat, I got on my feet and approached the witness.
"Mr. Lance, I guess you realize you're still under oath?"
He nodded and replied, "Right."
"Do you know Raymond Farr?"
He squinted like it was a very difficult question and then replied, "I know who he is. I've never met him."
"Are you a member of the CDA?"
"No."
"How about the Texas Militia?"
"The Texas Militia? Yes."
"Tell us about the Texas Militia."
He frowned. "What does the Texas Militia have to do with—"
"Objection, Your Honor. "Non-responsive," I said.
The judge replied, "Just answer the question, Mr. Lance."
Lance looked at the judge then shook his head. "Well. For one thing, they don't believe the State of Texas was properly brought into the Union. Therefore, the citizens of Texas don't have to obey federal laws."
"Is that what you believe, Mr. Lance, that you don't have to obey federal laws?"
Lance shifted nervously in his seat. "Well, theoretically."
"The Texas Militia is a military organization, right?"
"I suppose. You get military training if you join."
"Does S & T Packing supply arms to the Texas Militia?"
"I wouldn't know. I just pack 'em up."
"You're not involved in where the arms go?"
"No."
"Do you own a shotgun?"
"A shotgun?"
"Right. A Remington shotgun to be exact."
"Ah. Well. Probably. I've got several."
"Do you carry this shotgun with you when you go out on jobs in your wrecker?"
"Sure. You never know what kind of situation you might run up against."
"So, on July 11, 1986 when you drove your wrecker up to the Double T Ranch to assist Bobby Tuttle, you had your shotgun?"
Lance squirmed in his chair and avoided eye contact. "I suppose but I'm not sure it was the Remington."
"Sure it was. You knew Dusty Thomas had a Remington, right?"
"Huh. How would I know that?"
"I'm sure Bobby Tuttle told you. You two were good friends, weren't you?"
"Yeah, we got a long but I don't remember talking about Dusty Thomas."
"Oh, come on, Mr. Lance. Dusty Thomas was on Bobby Tuttle's hit list. He must of talked about him a lot, right?"
"Maybe he mentioned him a time or two."
"So, you knew to bring the Remington so that after you shot Bobby Tuttle you could pin the murder on Dusty Thomas. Isn't that right?"
"No!"
The gallery exploded in excited conversation. The judge banged his gavel and glared at the crowd.
"You killed Bobby Tuttle, didn't you?"
Lance nearly leaped out of his chair. "No! He was dead when I got there."
"I don't think so," I said sternly. "You didn't need a second job at A-Plus Wrecker Service, did you?"
"Yes, I did. I was behind on my bills."
"Didn't Don Harris suggest you hire on with them because he knew there was a strong likelihood you'd get an opportunity to kill Bobby Tuttle and make it look Dusty Thomas had done it?"
"No, that's crazy. You're hallucinating."
"How much did they pay you for the hit?"
"Objection!" Trenton exclaimed. "Assumes facts not in evidence. Request an instruction to disregard."
"Sustained. The jury will disregard the question."
"Why don't you just tell the truth? Harris and Farr have already taken the fifth. Do you want to take the fall alone for this?"
"Objection—" Trenton screamed.
"You killed Bobby Tuttle, didn't you?" I pressed.
Lance closed his eyes. His hands were shaking and he was breathing heavily. "No. Dusty Thomas did it. It happened just like I said."
"And Bobby Tuttle wasn't your first victim, was he?"
Lance turned pale. "Huh?"
"You ran Carl Johanson off the road so you could get a job at A-Plus Wrecker Service, didn't you?"
"What?"
"Did you plan on killing him, or were you just trying to knock him out of commission for awhile?"
"Objection," Trenton said. "Assumes facts not in evidence. Counsel is badgering the witness."
"Withdrawn," I said. "You're a fine actor, Mr. Lance, but I've got the accident investigator outside who worked the Carl Johanson case. Did you know they took a lot of photographs at the accident scene? There are some particularly good shots of tire tracks and skid marks. Last night he compared the tires on your pickup to tire tracks in the photographs. I guess you know what he discovered."
Lance swallowed hard.
"Do I need to call him in here to tell us the results of the comparison?"
Lance inhaled and then exhaled slowly. He appeared to be on the verge of tears. Finally, he shook his head and mumbled, "No."
Stan nodded, "Good. It's time we learned the truth. Now, obviously it wasn't your idea to kill Bobby Tuttle. So, who put you up to it?"
"It was Ray's idea. . . . He said the plan was foolproof—nobody would ever figure it out."
The courtroom erupted in conversation. The judge banged the gavel and demanded order. Dusty Thomas was jubilant. He turned around and smiled at his wife who was in tears.
"How much were you paid?" Stan asked.
"$50,000 and they said I'd get another $50,000 after Dusty Thomas was convicted."
The courtroom was deadly quiet. Trenton Lee sat down in disgust. All eyes were on Lewis Lance.
"Who paid you the $50,000?" Stan asked.
"Ray. He gave it to me in a plastic bag—small bills."
"So, I'm curious. How exactly did the hit take place?"
Lewis wiped away tears that had welled in his eyes. He took a deep breath and replied, "Bobby called me and said to meet him at the Double T Ranch at noon. When I got there, I parked in front of the shack near the front gate so he wouldn't see the wrecker. Then I walked along the fence so he wouldn't see me approaching. When I got really close, I crossed over to the driveway and walked straight toward him. He did a double take when he saw me coming, but I didn't stop to do any explaining. I just shot him—twice—both barrels. Then I hightailed it back to my wrecker before Dusty Thomas saw me. After that I just drove the wrecker up to the house and pretended I had just got there. Seemed like a foolproof plan to me."
"It was very ingenious. I'll give you that. No further questions, Your Honor. I move that all charges against Dusty Thomas be dismissed."
The judge took my motion under advisement and recessed the case so all the parties could evaluate what had happened that day. Paula rushed up to me and gave me a big hug and Dusty and Martha couldn't thank us enough. The press mobbed us as we left, and since we were all in a good mood, we took a little time to answer their questions. Paula wanted me to go out with her and Bart to celebrate, but I declined. I couldn't wait to get home and tell Rebekah the good news.
Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6 Page 52
