Witness to a Trial Read Online Free Page B

Mr. McGuire’s around 3:00 p.m. Afterward, he stopped at two more stores before punching the clock at 4:41. On the drive home, he stopped at one of his favorite bars, said hello to Spike, had a couple of beers, and all was well. After that, he remembered little. He passed out, not from two beers, but from something else, and remembered nothing until he awoke in the hospital.
    His voice cracked slightly when he tried to explain what it was like hearing that his wife had been murdered and being told, about an hour later, that he was charged with the murder. Handcuffed, dragged away, driven to jail, thrown in a cell, denied the dignity of attending his wife’s funeral and burial, denied the opportunity to grieve with his children. He had been so traumatized he had trouble talking, eating, and sleeping.
    It was a nightmare that would never end.
    —
    The Son.
Patrick Mace, age fourteen, the oldest of Junior’s three children. Because of the gruesomeness of much of the testimony, young Patrick had been kept out of the courtroom until today. His younger siblings would see none of the trial.
    Patrick had been the first one home from school, the first one in the house, the unlucky soul who stumbled upon the bodies and the unspeakable crime scene. He did not remember making the 911 call; he remembered nothing. The first deputy found him lying on the front porch, curled in the fetal position, shaking and unable to speak or walk. Patrick had spent two nights in a hospital and was still seeing a counselor.
    Not surprisingly, Wag Dunlap wanted to call the kid as one of the State’s opening witnesses. Slay the jury right off the bat with the kid weeping and bawling and unable to continue. Swoboda objected but McDover said yes. Fortunately, the Mace family resisted so fiercely that Wag backed off.
    As Patrick watched his father fight for his life, he battled his own emotions. Tears flooded his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He wiped them with his sleeves and tried not to look at Uncle Wilton seated next to him. Losing his mother was incomprehensible. Losing his father would be the end of the world.
    Wilton had explained the truth. He knew his father was innocent.

11
    In his closing argument Wag Dunlap decided to trash the victims. If Son and Eileen were not having a fling, then what the hell
were
they doing? Can you think of another good reason why Son, who knew Eileen very well, would drop by her house around 2:00 p.m. on a Tuesday, with Junior at work and the kids at school? There was no other reason, and the defendant, who has proven to have a rather vivid imagination, has been unable to pull one out of the air.
    What should be obvious, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is actually quite obvious. They were having a fling, and Junior either knew about it or was highly suspicious. He timed his movements almost to perfection, giving himself a brief but plausible window to zip by his house and see if Son’s pickup was in the driveway.
    And it was! His worst suspicions were true.
    He caught them, killed them, did what he had to do, and got on with his propane deliveries. Later, when reality set in, he got drunk, got caught, and showed no remorse for the killings, at least not in jail.
    —
    The Chief.
From the front row in the small balcony, the Chief looked down on the courtroom with sadness. His people were so divided. To his left and behind the defendant were members of the Mace family and a few friends. To his right and behind the prosecution were members of the Razko family and a few friends. Two deputies guarded the aisle, ready to make sure the factions caused no trouble. Scattered around the courtroom were other Tappacola, all more curious than concerned. They favored the casino, could almost see and feel its riches. For or Against. No gray areas, no indecision. Every Tappacola stood firmly in one camp or the other.
    His tribe had voted no almost three years earlier, back when Son Razko and Junior Mace had been agitating against