by Don Bullis
―Too thin, Parker.‖ The ADA stood up. ―I know Tackett appointed you and this isn't one of your pro bono deals for the poor oppressed criminals of our community, but you'd do well to just stand back and watch. You can make sure we cross all our T's and dot all our I's and that way you won't feel bad when we stick this guy's ass in the gas chamber. Be seeing you, Parker.‖
―You will indeed, Don. You will indeed.‖
Jim Mitchell‘s report to Don Wilcoxson said this: ―Nothing of evidentiary value was found in two residences on the Acoma Pueblo Reservation .…‖
Doc Spurlock spent the better part of Wednesday morning, the day before thanksgiving, interviewing just two witnesses.
Mrs. Pauline Perea lived across a vacant lot from Austin and Charlotte Concho. As neighborhood busy-body, Mrs. Perea was the kind of witness police officers like to locate and interview. Past middle age, plump, tidy, and clear-eyed, she knew the comings and goings of everyone who lived in her barrio. She also held strong opinions about all of her neighbor's activities. She well remembered the small blue car that came and went from the Concho house the week before.
―It had license plates from some other place and it parked on the wrong side of the street every time. My mister was going to call the cops on them but I said to never mind. Mrs. Concho hasn't been well lately and I didn't think they needed any more problems, especially since Mr. Concho seems to drink so much. A lot of drinking goes on over there, I can tell you, and the fights they get into in the front yard sometimes are a scandal, but then you know how the Indians are. I told my mister I didn't think the visitors would stay too long, and they didn't, either. The Conchos don't have a car, you know. Austin walks to the car wash every day.‖
―No, I didn't know,‖ Doc said, ―but when was this? I mean, when did the blue car get here, and how long did it stay?‖
―Let me see. It came early last week. Monday or Tuesday. Tuesday. Yes. Tuesday. Then I didn't see it for a day or two, but it was back on Friday. Always on the wrong side of the street. Like maybe he didn't know how to park the right way.‖
―You're sure it was here on Friday?‖
―And then it was back on Saturday, too. In the afternoon.‖
―You're sure of that?‖
―Oh yes.‖ She seemed almost indignant that Doc would question her accuracy. ―It was Saturday all right.‖
―When on Saturday?‖
―In the afternoon. It left for a little while and then came back. I don't think it moved from then until Sunday afternoon. Always parked on the wrong side. The cops don't patrol this street too often.‖
―Can you be a little more exact on the time?‖
―They came by in the middle of the afternoon and left again. My mister goes to work at five in the afternoon. It wasn't there when he left but I sat on the porch until it was dark and the car came back, brought Austin home from work. I know I went inside by six because that's when the Newlywed Game is on the television. I always watch it. Every week.‖
―So, you know the car was there at six, and you know it was there on Sunday, but you don't know about in between, do you?‖
―My mister gets off work at three in the morning. I usually get up for him so he can have something to eat. Terrible hours for him, but then work is when and where you can find it. The car was there when I opened the door for my mister.‖
―But you don't know about between six on Saturday afternoon 'til three Sunday morning?‖
―I don't think it left. I know about things like that. I just don't think so. It stayed parked in the same place.‖
―What can you tell me about the people in the car? What did they look like? How many were there?‖
―The man was a gringo. Kind of flaco. On Saturday when I saw him he had on black pants and a yellow sweater. The woman was an Indian. Pretty fat, like Mrs. Concho. She had on a red coat, you know, a car coat. When I saw the gringo on Sunday, he had on a blue sweater. Maybe the same black pants. She had on the same red coat. They have three children.‖
―Do you ever talk to Mrs. Concho, Mrs. Perea?‖
―Oh sí. She is a nice lady for an Indian.‖
―Since last weekend?‖
―Yesterday.‖
―She say anything about who those people were?‖
―Sure. The one in the red coat is Austin's sister. The gringo is her husband. Charlotte said he some kind of big shot in the navy but I don't think so. Big shots don't drive no little cars like that one.‖
―Thank you Mrs. Perea. We may want to talk to you again.‖
―Any time, young man.‖
The second witness Doc called on that morning was the manager of the Old Town Car Wash, Mick Blake. Blake well remembered the blue Mercury Comet and the Anglo guy who kept bothering Austin Concho at work on Saturday. Austin, he said, was a good worker four days out of five, and the last thing he needed was someone hanging around the car wash and distracting him, especially someone who wouldn't even get his car washed. He was sure the Comet was there at least once in the afternoon and then back around closing time at 5:30. Blake said he told Concho to tell the guy in the blue car not to be coming around during work hours no more.
By November 27, Larry Bunting had been in New Mexico for nearly two weeks, one of them spent in the Valencia County Jail. Parker Pratt talked to the sailor nearly every day by phone but on the Monday after Thanksgiving he drove from Albuquerque to the Valencia County jail in Los Lunas. The county provided no room for private lawyer/client meetings so Jack Elkins surrendered his office.
―It sure is better talking to you in this room, Mr. Pratt, than it was that other guy. That assistant attorney, or what ever he is.‖ ―Don Wilcoxson?‖
―Was that his name? I don't think he ever told me. He scared the hell out of me talkin' about the gas chamber and all.‖
―That's his style, Larry. Try not to let it bother you. Are they treating you all right?‖
―Yeah. I guess so. They got me separated from the rest. Some of these guys are real nasty types. Threatening to cut me, you know, beat me up and stuff like that, talkin‘ in Spanish that I can‘t understand. They bring in a lot of drunks all night long, and they yell and carry on a lot. When am I gettin' out of here?‖
―That's what I came down here to talk to you about. First, have you thought of anything else that might provide you with an alibi?‖
―I told you and the cops about all of it, I guess. Did they talk to Austin and Charlotte?‖
―They did, yes.‖
―And?‖
―Everyone you named supports your story. So do several people
you didn't name. Your story is solid.‖
―Then why can't I get out of here?‖
―Mrs. Rice is standing by her identification of you as the killer. As long as she does, the District Attorney will press the prosecution. He won't even talk about bond.‖
―So what happens? You mean I'm gonna have to stay in here and have a trial, and everything, like they do on TV?‖
―As it stands right now, yes. I hope to change that. First of all, they have no physical evidence that connects you to the scene of the crime. No fingerprints, no footprints, nothing. They also have not found a weapon.‖
―It sure don't seem fair to me. I didn't do nothing wrong, and I got to stay in this damn jail anyway. How long is all this gonna take?‖
―They couldn't find a fingerprint match here, so they sent the whole package off to the FBI in Washington. That will work to our advantage in the long run. The FBI will confirm that your prints were not present at the scene, or at least they'll say your prints were not lifted from the scene. Either way is fine. Problem is that it takes time; another week or so.‖
―You know, Mr. Pratt, this whole thing is screwing up my life real good. As of today, I been AWOL for a week. What am I supposed to do? Write to my C. O., the one I ain't met yet, and tell him I'm late reporting because I'm in jail for murder?‖
―That's the other thing I want to t
alk to you about. I called the Naval Staff Judge Advocate's office in Washington this morning and explained the whole situation. The navy has an interest in you and they'll assign someone from the Judge Advocate's staff at Sandia Base up in Albuquerque to keep tabs on the case. If you‘re guilty, you‘ll be summarily dismissed from the Navy. If, on the other hand, you‘re exonerated, your status with the navy will not change. Now, the navy would prefer, assuming you're innocent, that the charges be dropped and that you be returned to duty at the earliest possible time. Acquittal at trial is second best. In either case, though, they prefer that you stay in jail until the matter is concluded.‖
―So I just sit here and wait?‖
―That's pretty much it.‖
―What about my wife. My kids. They ok?‖
―Haven't they been to visit you?‖
―No. I got a note from Darlene and she said they told her she had
to stay on the reservation, that she can't go nowhere. She said her uncle‘s worried that the State Police will file on him for harboring a criminal. Me. For when we stayed there in McCarty's Village.‖
―Who told her that?‖
―I don't know. Them cops in Grants, I guess.‖
―I'll take care of it. No one has the authority to tell someone where they can and can't go. You assure her that no one will file on her uncle. I guarantee it.‖
―I appreciate it, Mr. Pratt. Am I gonna be able to sue anyone over this? I mean, I don't think it's right me being treated like this when I didn't do nothing.‖
―Usually it's necessary to show that you were harmed as a result of some one's carelessness or because someone set out to do you ill. Your arrest and incarceration, up to now, I would think, are within acceptable boundaries. The police are wrong, but it seems to be an honest mistake.‖
―What about the cop that smacked me around out there in Budville? Kicked me. Can he do that?‖
―No, but you'd be hard-pressed to find a witness to support the contention that you were mistreated, wouldn't you?‖
―Yeah. They was all cops.‖
―One other thing, Larry. How would you feel about taking a lie detector test?‖
―I'd have to ask your advice on it. Would it do me any good?‖
―Actually, the popular thing these days is what's called a narcosis test. I like it better than the polygraph, but neither of them is perfect. I'd like to avoid either one. I'm going to make one more effort to get the charges dropped, without prejudice. That means they could be refiled based on new evidence. If I can't get that done by the end of the week, I'll request the narcosis test at government expense.‖
―If you think so, then it's ok with me.‖
Don Wilcoxson called for a meeting on Tuesday afternoon, December 5th, in the chambers of the Grants City Council. In attendance were many of the enforcement officers who participated in the Rice/Brown murder investigation. A stenographer and a court reporter sat in. The idea was to consolidate into a single document, along with the official reports, all comments, all observations, all knowledge of the crime. Rookie officers Bobby Gutierrez and Juan Posey simply read aloud from reports they‘d previously written. Troy McGee commented on his impressions at the crime scene as well the facts he'd documented. Freddy Finch and Carlos Gallegos were brief and to the point. Carlos felt called upon to mention that the Washington Redskins upset the Dallas Cowboys by a score of 27 to 20 which made Sunday, November 19, 1967, a particularly bad day. Sgt. Al North said a short piece as did Sheriff Jack Elkins, Investigator Jim Mitchell, FBI Agent Dwayne Madison and Lt. Morris Candelaria. Coroner Basil Wang wasn‘t present and neither was pathologist Bill Howard, but both had submitted comprehensive reports. Also notably absent during the early hours of the meeting was Deputy Chief Charles Scarberry. Doc Spurlock and Virgil Vee were the last two officers to report. Captain Mat Torrez had nothing to add to the agents' reports. He thanked everyone for their hard work on the case.
Wilcoxson rested his butt on the edge of a table in front of the group and lit a cigarette.
―In Larry Bunting as a suspect,‖ he said, ―we have motive, opportunity, and ability. He was broke and couldn't get anymore military pay advances. He was in the area and knew about Rice and all his money. As a military man he knows how to use firearms and, we would all hope, use them well. Beyond that, we have two eyewitnesses and five other witnesses who can place him in the area where the crime was committed. And yet I understand there are those among you think he‘s innocent. Who thinks so?‖
No one moved for thirty seconds. Then, slowly, Mat Torrez raised his hand. Then Spurlock, Vee and Candelaria.
―Ok, Mat,‖ Wilcoxson said, ―you want to be the one to tell us just what the hell you think is wrong with the case?‖
―I'll take a turn in the barrel, Don,‖ Torrez said, and he stood up. ―The first thing is that Bunting has a pretty good alibi.‖
―Nope!‖ Wilcoxson said, sucking furiously on his cigarette. ―No creditable witness saw the car in Albuquerque between six p.m. on Saturday until three a.m. on Sunday. Be easy to leave at six and do the crime at seven thirty, eight o'clock and be back in Albuquerque an hour or so later.‖
―What about the people with him during the evening?‖
―A drunk and a woman who doesn't know Texas from Washington. What else?‖
―Bunting took a narcosis test last Saturday and passed it without any question," Mat said.
―Inconclusive is the way I'd put it, and it's probably inadmissible in court anyway. Besides, he lied to me about how he spent that Sunday. He said he watched San Diego and Dallas play football and yet he didn't know who won. Officer Gallegos there didn't even watch the game and he knows the score. If Bunting watched at all, he was pretty nervous. What else?‖
―I don't know how well the eye witnesses will stand up,‖ Torrez said. ―Mrs. Rice told me Bunting looked like the killer. Not that he was the killer. She told Troy she saw a tattoo on the killer's belly and she repeated it to Doc and me. Bunting has no tattoos at all. Anywhere. Mrs. Rice said the killer walked with a slight limp. Bunting wouldn't be in the navy if he walked with a limp. Mrs. Rice and Mrs. Buckley were both shown an array of a dozen photographs just last Friday. Neither could pick Bunting's picture as that of the killer. Besides, the original identification was not made under ideal conditions.‖
―Who the hell says so?!‖ No one noticed Scarberry entering the room. ―What the hell is goin‘ on here?‖ No one spoke as the deputy chief marched to the front of the room. ―You State Police people, who the hell authorized you to be here? I damn sure did not and you work for me! Not for Don Wilcoxson! Now get your lazy asses out o‘ here and get back to work.‖
All State Police personnel except Mat, Doc and Virgil Vee hurried out of the room. All officers from other departments stayed.
Wilcoxson, taller but not as bulky as Scarberry, stood and faced the senior officer. ―What's the matter with you, Charlie?‖
―Don't call me Charlie. It's Colonel to you. You been screwin' around with this goddamn investigation and draggin' your feet from the beginning and stickin' your nose into State Police operations. Now you got....‖
―Knock off the crap, Charlie. Who do you think you're talkin‘ to? I'm not one of your fuckin‘ flunkies. You sit down and shut up or you can get the hell out of here. This is part of the investigation.‖
―I don't have to do....‖
Wilcoxson leaned across the table. ―Charlie, I'm a little short on patience. Things are not going exactly like I wanted with this case. One more word and I'll have the sheriff arrest you for interference and you know goddamn well I can do it.‖
Scarberry, his face flushed and sweat dripping off his sideburns, sat down and folded his arms across his chest.
―Ok, Mat, go on with what you were saying,‖ Wilcoxson said.
Torrez pretended Scarberry wasn‘t there. ―Not too much else, Don, but all we have is circumstantial evidence. Some of it good. Some of it weak. No physical evidence at all.
I just don't think we can make a case against Bunting that‘ll stick.‖
―Who agrees with that, or disagrees?‖ Wilcoxson asked the officers still in the room.
―I don't know, Mat,‖ Mitchell said. ―He acted real suspicious, real edgy, out there at the roadblock. Seemed to me like he had something to hide.‖
―I'll tell you what,‖ Jack Elkins interjected, ―I noticed that about him, too, but after watchin' him in the jail, I think the guy‘s just a pantywaist. He whines and cries about everything. I don't think he'd have the güevosto do a robbery, let alone two murders. But there‘s somethin‘ else, too. When we booked him, he only had about nineteen dollars on ‗im. I wondered about where the money he stole was.‖ He turned to Mitchell. ―His wife have any cash on her that night?‖
―Couple dollars is all. The kid didn‘t have any either.‖ ―Then where‘s the money from the robbery?‖
―It wasn‘t in the car. I can tell you that for sure, Doc said. ―And there is one other just minor little glitch I might mention. Kind of an inconsistency. All the witnesses say our suspect would be travelin‘ from west to east. From the bar at Los Cerritos, or Dixie‘s Place, toward Albuquerque, but both Flossie and Nettie say the car at the pumps was headed west. The killer wouldn't have any reason to make the two U turns and Troy was west of Budville when he got the call. He didn't meet any such car westbound when he responded. The vehicle had to of gone east. Something screwy there.‖
Wilcoxson was quiet for a few seconds. He thought about and dreaded that he was going to have to admit to Parker Pratt that the defense lawyer had been right all along. Wilcoxson lit another cigarette.
―You tell me, Mat. Spell it out. Are you saying we should cut Bunting loose and start over, or what?‖
―I‘m definitely saying we should cut the guy loose. By my count, he‘s been in jail for sixteen days. If we keep him much longer he'll own the state of New Mexico in a civil suit. And yes, we should look elsewhere, but this does not leave us with a dead end.‖ Mat thought about the Indian cacique in the Dixie‘s Place, and what the old man said. All I have to do now, the captain thought, is find the right people, the ones who know who the killer is. Simple as that.
