Court of Lies

by Gerry Spence

  “Of course,” Abberly said.

  “Deputy Huffsmith, show these good gentlemen out of my courtroom. I’ll be out of here tomorrow,” the judge said. “I’m going to testify.”

  CHAPTER 40

  THE LILLIAN ADAMS murder trial continued to attract the national media. The Associated Press sent a reporter, as did Wyoming’s one statewide newspaper, the Star Tribune. The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal hired local stringers. Newsweek and Time did the same.

  After Judge Little’s second day in the trial, and possibly aware of the media’s cameras, he began to slick down his hair. He also donned a new pair of rimless spectacles, and a bow tie.

  Judge Little ruled that Sewell was required to give the defense at least twenty-four hours’ notice of every witness that the prosecution would be calling. The media’s excited “breaking news” of the day was that Sewell revealed he’d be calling Tina Ford, the teenage daughter of Lillian Adams, immediately following the testimony of Judge John Murray.

  During the second day of the trial, Sewell had directed the county’s Child Services Office to take Tina into custody, since Lillian, her sole guardian, had been charged with murder. Sewell claimed that the girl’s welfare was at stake. When Lillian got home from court, she found that Tina, Mrs. Houseman, and the psychiatric nurse were all gone. In panic, she called Timothy Coker, who called the sheriff’s office.

  “You have to get her back,” Lillian pleaded to Coker. “She’ll decompensate under the stress of this. She could have a psychotic break. It’s life and death for that child. She’s seriously suicidal.”

  Coker obtained a copy of Undersheriff Hannery’s report, and that evening he’d gone to Lillian’s home and read the report aloud to her:

  When I tried to take the subject, Tina Marie Ford, into custody, she physically fought me and nearly overpowered me. She is very strong. I had to cuff and shackle the girl.

  On my way to the county jail she cursed me with every word she could come up with. Later, after she calmed down some, she claimed her stepfather, Mr. Adams, had the evil power of a witch.

  I asked her what she meant by that and she said he mumbled strange words, and that his eyes got wild and he would look at her in a way that she knew he was trying to put a spell on her. She said he put a spell on her mother. She told me that she killed her stepfather in order to save both herself and her mother from his evil.

  She insisted she shot Horace Adams III in the head with his pistol, which was lying on his desk when she came in the room looking for her mother. She said when she saw the gun, she grabbed it, stuck it to his head, and pulled the trigger.

  I secured the girl in our temporary holding cell, reported the foregoing confession to Mr. Haskins Sewell, the prosecutor, who thereafter arranged for the girl to be delivered into the care of Henrietta Houseman at the Houseman residence. Mrs. Houseman and a psychiatric nurse had been caring for the girl at the Adams residence during the trial. Mrs. Houseman was instructed to remove the girl from the Adams household and to keep her safely at the Houseman residence under the direction of Child Services. Mrs. Houseman was also instructed not to permit Lillian Adams to visit her daughter without the permission of Mr. Sewell.

  “Sewell is holding my daughter hostage,” Lillian cried.

  “You’re right, Lillian,” Coker said. “It would weaken Sewell’s case if he returned a daughter to ‘her murdering mother.’”

  “I promise you,” she said under her breath, “I will kill him. My father gave me his old thirty-eight Smith & Wesson. I bought fresh shells for it at the store yesterday.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of that, Lillian,” Coker warned. “You want to add that threat to an already long list of violence in your history? You’d better settle down. Tina can be seen as violent and cause the jurors to conclude that violence runs in your bloodline.”

  “How can you just calmly sit there while they kidnap my child?”

  In a quiet voice, Coker replied, “I’ve wanted to hurt Sewell more than once, but if you go crazy, we’ll lose for sure. Now sit down. We have to work our way through this together.”

  “I am capable of killing,” she said. “And you would be, too, if they kidnapped your child.”

  “Mrs. Houseman and the nurse will take good care of Tina,” Coker said. “You’re reacting like any good mother would. But if the jury convicts you, it will be all over for you, and Tina will be confined to some public institution for the rest of her life.”

  Coker waited for Lillian to finally calm down. Then he asked, “Why did Tina tell the undersheriff that she killed your husband?”

  Lillian explained slowly. “She came on to that terrible scene. She’d threatened to kill Horace. Dr. Brady thinks she saw him lying there in all that blood. She believed she’d done it. Dr. Brady calls it ‘transference.’ In her hysteria, she picked up the gun. She was screaming when I came in.”

  “How do you know she didn’t kill your husband?” Coker asked. Then before Lillian could answer him, he said, “I withdraw the question, Lillian. I don’t want you to answer that question, now or ever.”

  * * *

  When Lillian called Mrs. Houseman the next morning, she told Lillian that Tina had been a perfect lady. “I had to remind Tina how Deputy Huffsmith told her that by being in control of herself, she would be in control of everyone else,” Mrs. Houseman said. “And when Mr. Sewell came by to see Tina, she was also a perfect lady.”

  “You let that animal, Sewell, talk to her?”

  “I have to,” Mrs. Houseman said. “Mr. Sewell says he has the legal right over her, and he visits Tina every evening.”

  “Are you present when he visits?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Houseman said. “But Tina still insists to Mr. Sewell that she killed her stepfather. Mr. Sewell seems kind enough to Tina and even lets her hold his little dog. He told Tina that she is the only person besides himself whom the dog trusts. He claims his dog has an unfailing sense about people, and that spoke very well for Tina.”

  When Lillian told Coker how Sewell’s dog passed judgment on Tina, Coker started to erupt: “Why, that silly son of a bitch…” He caught himself before he said more. Then he said in a more subdued voice, “Maybe, Lillian, we should have Sewell bring his dog to court for you to hold. If you pass his dog’s test, surely he’ll dismiss the charges against you.”

  CHAPTER 41

  IN THAT CONCRETE hole of perpetual day, the judge’s eyes were once again locked on the jail’s ceiling. The fluorescent lights and the jail’s camera watched him. When Sewell asked him what Lillian Adams said to him in his pickup that night, how would he answer? They had that little microphone hidden there behind the rearview mirror.

  What if he said he didn’t remember?

  They knew he remembered.

  He’d probably be hauled up before the Judicial Fitness Committee, and they’d recommend his impeachment.

  He heard himself answering the committee: “I refuse to dignify the charges of that rotten bastard, Haskins Sewell, by responding with the first word in my defense.”

  “What’s that, Judge?” Whitey hollered in.

  “He’s talking to himself again,” Jake said. “Better get him out of there before his brains turn to rat turds.”

  * * *

  Deputy Huffsmith visited the judge that afternoon and told him that the big boys had instructed him to get the judge ready to testify. He’d be called as the state’s witness first thing in the morning. So Sewell had decided to take a chance on what he’d say—not much of a risk considering they’d recorded his conversation, and the recording could be used to impeach his testimony if he didn’t tell it straight. He could hear Sewell’s stinging, high-pitched question: “Didn’t Lillian Adams admit to you that night in your truck that she’d killed her husband, Horace Adams the Third?”

  The judge had trouble making room for the likelihood that Lillian had killed her husband. Why would she kill him? For money? If money were the motive, would
n’t she, as his sole heir, inherit his fortune anyway? Besides, she never seemed to care much about money. More likely she was taking the blame for Tina.

  If he testified truthfully, Lillian Adams would likely face the death penalty. If he lied, Sewell had it all on tape from that hidden mike in his truck, and Sewell would have an open-and-shut perjury case against him, and Lillian would still be convicted.

  If he said he couldn’t remember, Sewell couldn’t disprove his memory loss, but Sewell had that damnable recording, and Judge Little would let Sewell play the recording in front of the jury to “refresh his memory.” Sewell had checkmated him.

  * * *

  In the afternoon, Deputy Huffsmith met the judge again in the interrogation room. “Sewell wants me to talk to you one last time about your testimony.” As Huffsmith spoke to the judge, he’d returned to his ritual of removing his hat and holding it reverently on his lap.

  “And what does Sewell want?” the judge asked.

  “He wants you to tell the jury that the lady confessed to you.”

  “Well, of course,” the judge said. “I understand.”

  “And then they said that they would be willing to talk to you about dropping all charges and you can get out of here.”

  “I see,” the judge said. “You tell Sewell that I’ll be ready to testify.” He offered a reassuring smile to Huffsmith.

  CHAPTER 42

  PROMPTLY AT 9:00 A.M., Judge Homer Little called his court to order. Haskins Sewell announced his first witness of the day—Judge John Murray.

  Deputy Huffsmith escorted the judge to the witness stand. Still in his blue jail outfit, he held his head up and looked neither right nor left as he moved down the aisle through the gawking crowd to the witness chair.

  He seated himself with care. He glanced over the crowd, which was fixed on him. He saw Betsy sitting in the row behind the press. Her face was pallid, her eyes wide.

  “How’s my darling today?” he asked from the witness chair, as if he were talking to her from across the kitchen table.

  She looked ripped and ragged and made no response.

  “You’re not all right,” he said. “I’ll be out of here today. Don’t worry.”

  He looked up at Judge Little. His bow tie was tilted to the right. Judge Little stared at Judge Murray, his eyes expressionless, empty of emotion.

  “Good morning, Judge Murray,” Sewell began with a painfully imposed half smile. “I notice you are in Teton County jail clothing. I asked the deputy to fetch a suit for your appearance here this morning.”

  “You want me to be seen by my friends and fellow citizens of Teton County as a disreputable old crock charged with various vicious-sounding crimes,” the judge replied. “So I thought I’d remain dressed for the occasion.” Somebody laughed. It sounded like Hardy Tillman.

  “Well, let’s get down to business, then, Judge Murray. Do you admit that you’ve had conversations with Lillian Adams?”

  “Yes. Many.”

  “When was the first?”

  “Years ago, when she was a child.”

  “I see. Have you had conversations with her since the death of her husband?”

  Judge Murray made no attempt to answer.

  “Judge?” Sewell said in his painfully piercing voice. “Please answer my question.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Sewell, I have to adjust my hearing aid.” He reached up to his right ear, fiddled with the device that was hidden by his long hair, and then nodded to the prosecutor. “Would you please repeat the question?”

  “Have you had conversations with the defendant since the death of her husband?”

  “I have asked the jail personnel to provide me with a fresh hearing aid battery. These batteries are like me, old, and they’ve about had it.”

  “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, if you don’t shout. Shouting causes ringing in my ears.”

  “Can you hear me now?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Did you have any conversations with—”

  “Yes. Do you want a history of them?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Judge. Just tell us if you had a conversation with her on this February seventh in your pickup truck in the courthouse parking lot after court was adjourned on that day.”

  “I don’t know what day it was. I don’t keep a calendar of my conversations with people in my pickup truck.”

  “Did you have a conversation with her in your pickup after the death of her husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did she say to you on that occasion?”

  “Well, I was previously the judge in this very case, as the jury knows. She was sitting in my pickup when I got out of court. I never lock my pickup. And when I got into the pickup, she threw her arms around me and kissed me—on the cheek. Her sudden expression of affection surprised me. She was saying something about how sorry she was for all the trouble she was causing me in court and all the rest.”

  “And all the rest?”

  “She was saying other things, but she was up close to me, and it’s sometimes impossible for me to hear when people are so close to me. I didn’t hear what she said after that. I put my hand in front of her face and said, ‘Don’t say anything more and get out of my truck immediately!’ Which she did.”

  “Didn’t she say—”

  “Objection!” Coker cried, interrupting. “We’re about to be treated with another of Mr. Sewell’s poisoned questions.”

  Judge Little knew Lillian’s alleged confession was at issue—about how Lillian had said she was sorry for all the trouble she’d caused Judge Murray, ending with “I killed Horace because—”

  The judge called the lawyers to the bench, out of the jurors’ hearing.

  “I’m merely attempting to refresh the judge’s memory,” Sewell said. “I offer into evidence State’s Exhibit twenty-seven, which is a recording made of the conversation. It is self-authenticating. I offer it for the purpose of refreshing the witness’s memory.”

  “He has no loss of memory,” Coker said. “He had a loss of hearing. He didn’t hear what she said, if anything. He told you he couldn’t hear her because of the malfunction of his hearing aid.”

  “I sustain your objection, Mr. Coker,” Judge Little ruled.

  “But, Your Honor, I can prove what Mrs. Adams said to the judge.”

  “You can’t prove it through Judge Murray if he didn’t hear it in the first place.”

  “But, Your Honor…” Sewell’s protestations were edged with mounting anger.

  “This is too fundamental for further discussion,” Judge Little ruled. “This witness either heard or he didn’t hear. He says he didn’t hear. You can’t impeach the witness because he didn’t hear. You can impeach him only if you can prove he heard and refuses to admit what he heard.”

  “I will lay a foundation with Officer Bromley, who affixed the instrument to Judge Murray’s truck,” Sewell offered.

  “How short our memories!” Coker said. “Justice Beasley of our very own supreme court did not authorize a bug to be installed in Judge Murray’s pickup. He only authorized bugs in the judge’s house and office.”

  “That is my understanding, counsel,” Judge Little said.

  Sewell paused, as if in search of further arguments. Then he walked in hard steps back to his chair at the counsel table. “The court has precluded my good-faith inquiry into this matter, so therefore I withdraw this exhibit. I have no further questions of this witness,” Sewell said.

  “Neither do I,” Coker said. “May Judge Murray be released?”

  “The witness is released,” Judge Little said. “Thank you for your testimony, Judge Murray. I hope the next time we see you, you’ll be on this bench in your customary black robe. You need a new chair,” Judge Little said with a small smirk. “And by the way, I know a good audiologist up in my neck of the woods. If you like, I can give you his name.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t until the next afternoon that
Judge Murray felt he could face Jenny Winkley and the files that had piled up on his desk. On his way to court, he stopped to see Hardy Tillman.

  “How’s the jailbird?” Hardy asked. “You’re looking okay. They must have fed you pretty good up there.”

  The judge emptied a case of Horace Adams beer into Hardy’s old refrigerator, which sat groaning against the wall.

  “You done good as a witness. Never said shit. Now that’s the test of a good witness, ain’t it?” Hardy said.

  “Come on, Hardy,” the judge protested. “I answered the questions, didn’t I?”

  “Well, I got you into this jam. Never meant to. I was just looking for a chance to kick Sewell’s ass—in self-defense, a course.” Hardy took after his beer.

  “Be careful what you say. If I take the stand in Sewell’s ass-kicking case, they can ask me what we talked about.”

  “No problem,” Hardy said. “Your memory ain’t worth a shit or your hearing aid don’t work.” He laughed and took another draw from his beer. “I got this all figgered out. I’m going to get this over with. Like my daddy used to say, ‘The easiest way to eat crow is while it’s still warm. The colder it gets, the harder it is to swallow.’”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m going to plead guilty to assault, if that sumbitch will agree to leave you alone for once.”

  “That’s one crow you aren’t going to eat,” Judge Murray said.

  CHAPTER 43

  WHEN HASKINS SEWELL announced that his next witness would be Tina Ford, Timothy Coker flew to the bench. “Your Honor, is there no decency left in this world, in the law, in this courtroom? I cannot imagine even the most pernicious of judicial systems permitting a prosecutor to force a loving daughter to testify against her mother. If I have no legal ground to object, I wish the record, the jury, and this court to know that we consider this tactic despicably immoral.”