by Ron Gannon
Chapter 10. The Trial
The evidence against Tom Paine wasn’t overwhelming but enough to get him arrested.
“If you’re convicted, you cannot profit from the crime. Hence, you can not receive any property, whether by intestacy, will, or nonprobate instruments, such as life insurance,” explained Attorney Wool. “However, the killing must be willful and felonious. If you plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter, you will inherit her money and property. I speculate a ten years in prison and out in eight deal can be reached.”
“No, absoulutely not. They’re lying. Prove it.”
“Frankly, I can’t. Sure, I can shed reasonable doubt. In the real court of law that’s not enough. My advice is take a deal.”
“No way! Get me a trial, fast.”
“Possibly April. Maybe a little sooner.”
“Six months?”
“Trust me, that’s fast for this state. One other thing. Rhode Island bars even the killer’s issue to inherit. Issue means a person's children or other lineal descendants such as grandchildren – direct bloodline. Something to think about. Florence left your daughter a lot of money. If you’re convicted, Cookie can’t acquire any of it.”
“I have faith in the judicial process. A jury will never convict me because I had an affair."
The jury consisted of nine women and three men with two male alternates. They all dressed casual except for Juror 9, a forty-year-old man who wore a tie and a blue camel hair blazer. He took notes as Gene testified.
“Yes, I heard them arguing, again, about eleven PM.”
“Mr. Evans, how is that possible when she was murdered hours before?” asked Attorney Wool.
“Objection,” the Prosecutor shouted, standing.
“Sustained,” said the Judge. “I admonished you several times, wise up.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” said Wool. “Mr. Evans, on two separate occasions you made statements to the police that you saw three boys run out of the victim’s house, correct?”
“Maybe they misunderstood me. Anyway, I saw them running on the beach in front of the house. That’s my testimony.”
“Misunderstood you? Twice?” Wool raised his voice, almost yelling. “You’re telling this jury,” he waved his hand slowly in the direction of each juror, “You saw three boys run out of Mrs. Paine’s house, your first statement to Officer Butterworth, was a misquote?”
“Yes, he must have misunderstood me.”
Wool glanced at the jurors to see their reaction. He didn’t like the feedback. Only a few looked as if they didn’t believe him. The majority just seemed bored. He went on to get Gene to concede that the police didn’t deliberately falsify the reports but he couldn’t get him to admit to ever saying he saw the boys run out of the house.
Winnie’s testimony was notably devastating. “Tom confided to me it was an accident. Her nagging and shouting about our affair got to him. He went insane and wasn’t thinking when he held a pillow over her mouth. Then he stabbed her to make it look like that unsolved murder a mile down the road.” She turned to Tom, exasperated. “I’m sorry, Tom. You must be aware of why I...”
Juror 9 was elected foreman and determined to get a conviction. He sat at the head of the table and looked up after counting the ballots. “Okay, people. We have to convince three there’s no reasonable doubt here. This is child’s play. He did it.”
Juror 6, a woman in her fifties, raised her hand. “Getting in bed nude with a cheating husband doesn’t make any sense. The defense theory that she was raped does. Maybe the boys or that postman did it. I don’t trust that guy or that adulteress.”
“There was no testimony that she was raped. We can’t consider that,” Juror 9 concluded.
Juror 11, a large elderly black man, rubbed his temple. “What about that kid’s fingerprint on that jewelry box?”
“It was a partial print. That box was covered with prints. Defense witnesses are paid to get scumbag murderers off,” Juror 9 said, raising his voice.
Juror 3, a young woman, raised a finger. “I have a problem with Paine not testifying.”
“He didn’t have to. We can’t hold that against him.” Juror 11 crossed his arms.”
Juror 9 shook his head, irritated. “Guilty people don’t testify. Lawyers won’t let them lie to a jury because they always screw up. It's like an act from God. The cheating bastard killed his wife for her fortune. Well over a million bucks. We have motive, his confession to his lover and an eye witness to their last argument. What more do we need? Come on people. Help me convince the stubborn three.”
Tom Paine stood next to Wool. The judge peered over his glasses. “The Court clearly feels that the Jury rendered the correct verdict. Therefore, the Court sentences you, Thomas Paine, to serve twenty-five years in the state penitentiary.”
Juror 9 sat in a booth in the far corner of Coffee Shop.
Mario Mazella puffed on a Pall Mall as he strutted over to the booth. He sat down across from Juror 9. “Good job.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t easy.”
Mario slid an envelope across the table. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
Juror 9 placed the envelope inside his jacket and smiled at Mario. “Oh yeah, a couple of those fools thought the postman did it.”
“You think I did it, don’t you?” Mario asked, narrowing his eyes.
“You know me, old buddy, I’m not paid to think or care.”
“That’s refreshing. I want the names of those inmates by the end of the week.”
“What’s the rush? He’s not going anywhere.”
“Payback executed pronto is a message heard the loudest. That notice is for rascals like you. You’d think twice before ratting to save yourself. Unless you’re curious what your eyes and balls taste like. Those are just the appetizers."
