William Bernhardt - Perfect Justice

Ben had been trying to catch Belinda’s eye since she came into the courtroom. She wouldn’t even look at him.

The hearing began much like the trial Ben remembered so well. The coroner was called to establish that a death had occurred and that the death was caused by two crossbow bolts. After that, however, the shape of the trial began to change.

“The State calls John Pfeiffer to the stand.”

John walked hesitantly to the witness box. It was clear he didn’t want to testify.

After the preliminaries were completed and the foundations were laid, District Attorney Swain asked, “You and the defendant were at the Bluebell Bar when the fight between Donald Vick and Tommy Vuong occurred, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you tell the court what you were discussing?”

John regretfully answered the question. “When Vuong came into the bar, she became enraged. She told me how upset she was about what Vuong had done to her sister. How he shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

“And later, during the fight, Vick’s head smashed down on your table.”

“That’s correct.”

“Were any traces of blood, or perhaps, hair, left behind?”

“I’m not sure. I think so.”

Swain held a Ziploc bag in the air. “Have you ever seen a bag like this in the defendant’s possession?”

“Yes. She carries them all the time.”

“Did you ever leave her alone in the bar?”

“Yes, I believe I excused myself and went to the men’s room at one point.”

Swain smiled. “Thank you. No more questions.”

Frank Carroll wanted to testify even less than Pfeiffer. Ben was afraid Frank might lose his temper and give Swain a sharp poke in the eye.

“Have you ever seen documents such as the ones marked State’s Exhibit Six, which I just handed to you?”

“Sure. All the time.”

“And what are they?”

“Hate propaganda. ASP prints this junk. They hand it out on street corners, post it on bulletin boards, stick it under people’s windshield wipers.”

“And where were these particular documents printed?”

Carroll checked the small print. “Birmingham.”

“That’s interesting. Who at Hatewatch was involved in activities against ASP in Birmingham?”

“Many people.”

“Anyone who later came to Silver Springs?”

“Only myself. And Belinda.”

“Mr. Carroll, we had our dust man go over each and every one of these documents very carefully. I think whoever left these documents at the crime scene was very careful. But not careful enough. Would you be surprised to learn that we found the defendant’s thumbprint on one of the documents?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“We’ll bring that out later. Do you think the defendant might have had access to such documents?”

“I’m sure she did. We save it to use as evidence at future trials.”

“Thank you. No more questions.”

Slowly but surely Swain laid all the bricks into place. The case he made against Belinda was strong and certain. Unquestionably she would be bound over for trial.

And then came the moment Ben had been dreading.

“The State calls Ben Kincaid.”

Swain probably took Ben through all the proper preliminaries. He really didn’t recall. His brain was working too fast; it was too far ahead of the present.

“Would you say the defendant volunteered her confession to you?”

“Well, no,” Ben said. “I couldn’t actually say she volunteered.”

“When she finally told you what she had done, would you say she was filled with remorse? Regretted what she had done?”

“No,” Ben said sadly. “I couldn’t agree with that either.”

“She admitted that she planned to kill Tommy Vuong?”

“Yes, she did.” Again he tried to make eye contact with Belinda, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her head was buried inside her arms.

“She stole the crossbow to implicate ASP, the organization that formerly had a camp just outside of town.”

“True.”

“And she smeared Donald Vick’s blood and hair on the bow to incriminate him.”

“So she said.”

“Then she hid in the trees outside Coi Than Tien and waited for Tommy Vuong to come home.”

“Yes.”

“And when she saw Vuong approach, she killed him.”

“Not exactly,” Ben said.

“What?”

Ben saw Belinda’s head rise. “That’s incorrect.”

Swain was obviously surprised. “Why is that incorrect?”

“It’s true Belinda was planning to kill Vuong, but when the time came and he was standing right in front of her, she found she couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t fire the bow.”

Belinda lifted her head and peered across at the witness stand.

“You’re saying she changed her mind?”

“Yes. Unfortunately Vuong saw her and decided to take advantage of the situation. He was a nasty brutal person, as I guess you know. He began shouting threats, saying that he was going to do worse to her than he had done to her sister. He started toward her.” Ben turned to face Judge Tyler. “She panicked. And that’s when she fired the bow.”

Swain stared at his witness. “What are you saying—that she killed him accidentally? That she acted in self-defense?” Swain appeared incredulous. “She’d planned his murder in detail! Surely you’re not suggesting she could fire that bow twice by accident! Or that two shots from a crossbow was a reasonable defensive use of force!”

“No,” Ben said.

“Are you saying she went crazy? Trying to get her off on an insanity plea?”

“No. She’s definitely not insane.”

“Then I don’t understand what you’re—”

“She didn’t have premeditated intent,” Ben said firmly. “Not at the time she fired. She had recanted her previous plan. When she fired the crossbow, it was on impulse. In the heat of the moment.”

Judge Tyler peered down at Swain. “You’ve charged the defendant with first-degree murder, Mister Prosecutor.”

“That’s true,” Swain said.

“That’s an intent crime. Maybe you should try for manslaughter.”

“Your honor, this is just the opinion of one witness—”

“He’s your witness, Mr. Swain.”

“He’s obviously biased—”

“You took that risk when you subpoenaed him.”

“Yes, but—”

“If you expect me to bind the defendant over for trial, you’d better have her charged with the right crime.”

“Your honor, I—”

“I want all counsel in my chambers,” Judge Tyler pronounced. “Now. Mr. Kincaid, you’re excused.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

As Ben left the witness stand, for the first time, Belinda looked directly at him. Their eyes met.

And her expression changed—for the most fleeting of instants—to something that resembled a smile.

70.

BEN SAT BY HIMSELF on the bank of the lake near his former campsite. The morning was still gray; the first rays of the sun were just beginning to peek out over the mountaintops.

He stared into the water and tried to clear his head of all the noise, all the confusion, all the regret.

All the sadness.

He heard a car chugging up the dirt road just outside the campground. A few minutes later Christina strolled up and sat beside him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Thought you might like some company.”

“You were wrong.” He turned away and stared across the lake. “But since you’re here, how are you feeling?”

“Fine. Fit as a fiddle. Totally recovered.” She cocked her head to one side. “How are you?”

He considered the possible answers. Fine? Fit as a fiddle? Somehow they didn’t ring true. And he wondered if he would ever be totally recovered.