“I didn’t think anything.”
“Oh, now that you’ve heard the good Dr. Joel testify that you might have been in a ‘fugue state,’ you decided to go with that, huh?”
“I don’t even know what that is. I said I didn’t think anything because that’s the truth. I knew something was going to happen. And I knew I couldn’t let it.”
“Well, you made sure of that, didn’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“Is that going to be your answer to anything I ask you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s see, then. Why didn’t you reload your weapon after it was empty?”
“I didn’t have any more bullets.”
“So, if you’d had more bullets, you would have shot even more innocent teenagers?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. By the time the thing kept clicking, there was nobody around, anyway. Nobody but me.”
“You and the dead body of Cameron Taft.”
“I guess so. I didn’t look at anyone. I just pulled the trigger over and over again. Then I threw the gun away. And I sat down.”
“Why didn’t you bring more bullets with you?”
“I didn’t know where any more bullets were. I just grabbed the gun from where my father always kept it—under the cushion of his big chair.”
“Why didn’t you wait?”
“I was already late for school. And I knew Friday was my last chance.”
“Your last chance to kill Cameron Taft?”
“My last chance to …” The tears came again, but MaryLou ignored them. “My last chance to save my little sister from … them.”
“But now you know—”
“Objection!” Swift cut him off. “What the defendant now knows is more than merely irrelevant; it is a blatant attempt to torment her. This is nothing but another attempt by the prosecution to poison the jury!”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “I will not tell you again, counsel.”
“Then I have no more questions of this witness,” the Fat Face substitute said, and sashayed over to his table like he’d just won the case. But before he sat down, he whirled dramatically, said, “With the court’s permission?”
The judge made his waving motion again. The deputy took that as encouragement. MaryLou hadn’t moved.
“You said before that you couldn’t go to your mother or your father?”
MaryLou just stared straight ahead. Not looking at him; not looking away, either. And not going to answer a question that hadn’t been asked. I wondered if the jury understood that the question itself was the obvious answer.
“MaryLou, now that you know the truth, do you even care that you killed a man?”
“I … I don’t think so.”
“Caring isn’t something you think; it’s something you feel. Don’t you feel anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think, if the court gave you sufficient time, you might come up with an answer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there anything you do care about?”
“Now?”
“Yes,” the deputy said, making his own disbelief clear. “That’s what I’m asking you: what do you care about now?”
“Now? Now, I guess I don’t care about anything.”
“Not even the innocent man you—”
“Judge, can we please see some offer of proof from the prosecution? A declaration of ‘innocence’ on behalf of the dead rapist coming out of the mouth of the prosecution’s office is not only objectionable as a matter of law, it is objectionable as not being a question for the witness at all. It is an utterly self-serving excuse for the failure of their office to prosecute one single perpetrator of the numerous gang rapes Detective Lancer has already testified to.
“It is the heart of our defense that MaryLou McCoy had no idea, no hint, no concept of the so-called innocence of the man she shot. All she knew was that he was the leader of a gang who specialized in the rape of young girls. The prosecution is welcome to disprove that, if they can. But they cannot be allowed to foul the record with their weak attempt to defend themselves.”
“Your Honor …” The deputy stepped in, more to stop the damning accusations coming from Swift than anything else. He wasn’t prepared for the dead silence that followed.
Swift stood waiting, his whole stance suggesting he was just waiting to hit back. MaryLou went back into her thousand-yard stare. The judge’s stare was a lot shorter, but his was loaded for bear.
The deputy sat down.
“Summations are a little different here,” Swift explained again. “The prosecution goes first, then it’s our turn, and then they get another shot.”
“You knew the job was bad when you took it, hoss,” was all T.D. said.
“I knew the rules, sure. But I’ll be right up front with you—I’ve never tried a case like this in my life.”
That was too much for Dolly. “I’m sure everyone on this planet who ever accomplished something for the first time would say the same thing before they actually went out and did it.”
“The only ones who can’t are the ones that never got it done,” Debbie backed up her girlfriend.
“I’m not looking for sympathy here,” Swift said, nice and calm. “I’m trying to explain criminal-trial procedure, so when you see them getting two bites at the apple you won’t think this is something special the judge gave them.”
“Oh, I don’t think the judge is on their side at all,” Debbie said.
“That’s the truth,” T.D. said. “One look at you, and that old bird was ready to tear up the scarecrow to get at the cornfield.”
I was used to Debbie’s blushing by now, but this was a beaut.
If there was any argument about who was going to deliver the prosecution’s closing, it must have been behind closed doors. The woman whose name I didn’t know stood up and addressed the jury in a stiff, formal manner, ticking off the various crimes MaryLou had committed.
In a way, she reminded me of MaryLou herself. She was tall and lean, not a girl who ever got by on her looks. She was absolutely methodical. And she might as well have been talking to a wall. All the jurors had a “tell us something we don’t know” expression on their faces.
And that was something she couldn’t do.
Swift went right for the carotid. He stood up, looked around the packed courtroom, then walked slowly over to the jury box as if the audience was following right behind him. He began speaking as he closed in. “When this trial began, you heard a lot of promises from the defense. We have kept every single one of those promises. The judge will instruct you on the law of ‘Justification.’ And you will see that every single element of that defense was in play during the commission of every single act the prosecution has endlessly repeated.
“We do not deny the truth. We have never denied it. MaryLou McCoy did discharge a firearm in school on Friday, the thirty-first of May, 2013. As a result of that act, one individual died, and two others were wounded. Was this conduct wrong? Of course it was. But was this conduct criminal? That, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is not the same question.”
Swift closed in on the jury box, as if what he had to say next was just for their ears: a shared confidence.
“Let’s say a day-care center is on fire. And when a woman tries to get inside to save her baby, a man bars her way. If the mother shoots him, would that be justified? Sure, it would, and I doubt there’s a decent person in America who would deny it.
“Now let’s change the scenario a bit. That day-care center is still on fire, but it has already been completely evacuated. And the person barring the mother’s way is a fireman, acting in the lawful discharge of his duty. If the mother didn’t know any of that, then would that same shooting have been justified?
“The judge is going to explain that the answer lies not in objective fact, but in the mind of the mother. If she thought, if she believed, that her baby was still upstairs, the
fact that her baby was actually safe wouldn’t change things. Not one bit.
“Why? Because, even though it was later proven wrong, the mother’s belief was reasonable, based on her own knowledge of the operation of the day-care center, and not contradicted by any fact actually communicated to her.
“Was that mother ‘insane’? Of course not! She might have perished in that same fire, but she was a mother protecting her child. She didn’t stop to ‘analyze,’ she didn’t do ‘research,’ she acted. And she acted because she believed that if she didn’t a horrible thing was going to happen to someone she was morally bound to protect … no matter what it might cost her.
“So—how does this apply to MaryLou McCoy? In every way possible! She knew, for a fact, that the gang known as Tiger Ko Khai specialized in gang rapes of underage girls. She also knew, for a fact, that not a single one of them had ever been brought into a courtroom just like this and put on trial.
“How could she be so sure? You heard Detective Lancer. You heard the testimony of all those other girls. You heard them tell you virtually the same set of facts: They were lured to a certain place occupied and controlled by Tiger Ko Khai. And every one of them was gang-raped.
“You saw the hospital records. You know all those girls were raped. And you know that nothing was ever done about it! You’ve heard MaryLou state that she herself believed that going to the authorities would be a waste of time. In her position, wouldn’t you have believed the same thing?
“MaryLou didn’t hide behind some ‘insanity’ defense. She got up there and told you exactly what was in her mind at the time this all happened.
“Why else would MaryLou have done what she did? She didn’t know any of the Tiger Ko Khai gang. Not personally, I mean—she most certainly did know their reputation. A reputation they earned.
“Are we looking at a girl who planned what happened? I don’t think it’s necessary for the defense to put on an ‘expert’ to tell you that a .22 revolver is hardly guaranteed to kill anything, not even a squirrel. So why did MaryLou use such a weapon? Because it was there, that’s all. If MaryLou’s father hadn’t let everyone in the house know where he kept his pistol, what would she have done on that fateful morning at school? The truth is that we don’t know. And we never will.”
Swift spun on his heel, as if allowing the audience to get in on the action.
“I never thought we would have to parade a whole list of school shootings before you to prove that what MaryLou did—and why she did it—had nothing whatsoever in common with Columbine. But, even so, we did put on an expert, an expert who had been retained for the specific purpose of evaluating and analyzing the events at Columbine. And he told us what we already knew. Comparing our town to Columbine is not merely a dirty trick—it slanders every one of us who lives here.”
That brought Fat Face to his feet. “Judge, I have to object. We never made any such comparison.”
“The jury heard whatever it heard, counsel,” the judge said, making it clear what he heard. “And it may draw any inference from what it heard that it chooses. Summations are not evidence. The defense did not interrupt the prosecution’s closing; please provide them with the same courtesy … especially as you still have a final opportunity to rebut anything you believe was wrongly stated.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Swift said, as if the judge had already personally acquitted MaryLou. “Ladies and gentlemen, the case for the defense is no more complicated than this: MaryLou’s belief that her baby sister was in imminent danger of gang rape at the hands of Tiger Ko Khai in general and Cameron Taft in particular was a realistic belief. It was based on what MaryLou knew. On what everybody at her school seemed to know. All that adds up to just one thing: what MaryLou did was justified.
“I said that MaryLou’s belief that only the most drastic action could save her baby sister was also a realistic belief, but the word I should have used is ‘real.’ That is, her beliefs were utterly rational, completely supported by everything she knew from all sources of information available to her.
“That information included the collaboration of this very DA’s Office in the ongoing acts of vile criminality by Tiger Ko Khai. Am I saying the DA’s Office actually participated? Of course not. But I am saying, and I am saying the evidence proves, that the failure of the DA’s Office to ever prosecute one single case of that gang’s practice of gang-raping minors makes their office responsible. And, yes, I am holding the DA’s Office responsible for the reasonableness of MaryLou’s belief that the rape of her little sister would be treated no differently. That is, ignored!
“And if you believe that MaryLou’s act was an attempt to save her little sister from what she reasonably believed was going to happen, happen imminently, perhaps no later than that very night, then you must find that her conduct was justified. Indeed, it was compelled.”
Swift’s voice was louder, more theatrical, but still well under control.
“This is America. We don’t have dictators. We don’t have rulers telling us what to do. This is a democracy. And that makes each of us responsible for our own acts. MaryLou has taken responsibility for what she did.
“But MaryLou also had an absolute right to look you in the eye and explain what she did. And you have an absolute right to do what Americans have fought and died for since this country was founded—the right to vote, the right to cast a ballot, the right to make your voice be heard. But you don’t just have those rights, you have those responsibilities, too, don’t you? Don’t you all?”
Swift swept his left hand in a wide arc, sending the message—whatever that jury decided, their verdict was going to be a judgment of the whole town.
“It comes down to this: You can vote that MaryLou McCoy was a cold-blooded killer, like the prosecution claims … even though they can’t give you one single reason for that claim. Or you can cast a vote for the truth.
“Now you know about something very dark and very dangerous lurking in our town. If you had known about this gang, and its special immunity, would you have tolerated it? You know you wouldn’t. You know none of you would!
“There’s one way to tell the whole world what this town really stands for, and now you know what that is. Vote for MaryLou, ladies and gentleman. Vote for a young woman you have always been proud of. For a young woman who has brought nothing but honor to her hometown. Vote for a young woman whose only crime was trying to protect her baby sister.
“MaryLou McCoy sacrificed everything to do that, and now all the prosecution can do is taunt her with the fact that her sacrifice was in vain.
“You know how towns get a reputation? By word of mouth. By what people say about them. So we know that some towns are notorious for their speed traps, others are known to be places that look the other way when certain kinds of illegal activity take place … and other towns are known to be just the opposite: Places where decent, law-abiding citizens can live decent, law-abiding lives—clean, friendly, beautiful places. Places people want to visit. That’s always been our reputation, hasn’t it? Don’t we depend on the tourist trade for much of the business here? We have a clean town, and I’m not just talking about the environment when I say that.”
Swift’s voice dropped, and his tone darkened, covering the whole courtroom with the same blanket.
“But there’s been a foul, evil underbelly to this town. One that, before this all happened, none of us even knew about. But our children did! And that’s wrong. All wrong. Because children always believe that adults know what’s going on. Oh, they may not know where kids might go to smoke pot, but they know that kids are smoking pot. So, from this moment forward, the ‘we had no idea’ excuse isn’t going to fly. The curtain has been pulled back, and we have all seen the depravity behind it. The monsters can’t hide from us anymore. They can stay among us only if we let them stay.
“MaryLou had every reason in the world to believe she was saving her baby sister from a gang of rapists. She did what any of you would do in the same situa
tion. Am I saying MaryLou was a hero? No. No, I’m not. But I am saying she did what she believed was the right thing to do, even at such great cost to herself.
“Remember that mother charging into a burning building? Risking everything? If it turned out that her baby was actually in no danger despite what she believed, are you going to call her a ‘criminal’?
“So—what do you want others to say about our town? That’s up to you, right now. It’s time to tell the world who we are. What we stand for. And we can’t do that unless we stand up.
“What more could MaryLou ask of you?” Swift wrapped it up. “Just do what you know is right. MaryLou can ask for no more than that. And she should expect no less. Not from our town.”
Fat Face must have been consulting a manual on how to be stupid. His entire closing was devoted to pointing out that MaryLou’s beliefs were all wrong. She wasn’t saving her baby sister from anything. In fact, her baby sister was a psychopathic little monster—“And that’s from the mouth of the defense’s own witness!”—who wasn’t even worth saving. If MaryLou had a brain in her head, she would have known all this, he snidely repeated. Again and again.
Unlike Swift, who kept himself in motion, drawing the jury and the courtroom audience together, making himself one of them, Fat Face was as rooted to a single spot as he was to that single line—MaryLou was a killer.
One of the games the enemy liked to play with captives in the jungle was to make them dig their own graves before they were put in them. If a captive did a very good job, they promised to kill him quickly. Men who’d lived through that were never the same afterward.
Fat Face couldn’t have known any of that. But if digging your own grave was a job, he would have been highly qualified for it.
The jurors were sent out right at the lunch break. Apparently, they were all slow eaters—it was almost three hours before they came back in.
And pronounced MaryLou McCoy “not guilty” on all counts.
Aftershock Page 33
