“They saw the villagers, who had no weapons, beg for mercy. They saw them scream.
“And they saw Sergeant First Class Kubik, while machine-gunning these eighty-seven civilians, smile.”
Waldron turned back to the jury, a puzzled expression on his face. “He smiled.”
Tom shook his head. He was still weeping silently. He whispered to Claire: “How can he lie like that?”
“The commanding officer, General William Marks, was unable, despite his best efforts, to stop this atrocity.”
The panel members did not move. They watched in fascination. One of them had placed her index finger on her lips. The court reporter, a weary-looking middle-aged black woman with a floral shawl over her shoulders, softly ticked away at her machine.
“Two members of that unit will tell us about this horrible night. So will the commanding officer.
“But we will not stop with eyewitness testimony. We have hard evidence as well. We will present ballistic evidence: some of the bullets used to kill these civilians, and some of the shell casings ejected during this rampage. And we will demonstrate beyond any doubt that these bullets came from Sergeant First Class Kubik’s own gun. There will be no doubt, no ambiguity, not a shred of uncertainty. We have eyewitnesses, and we have forensic evidence.
“Yet there’s still more.
“After this nightmarish incident, members of Detachment 27 were recalled to Special Forces headquarters at Fort Bragg to be debriefed about what happened. Seven soldiers offered sworn statements. But what did Sergeant Kubik do? Sergeant Kubik was questioned at length but refused to give a sworn statement.
“And then he engineered an escape from custody.
“He escaped. He deserted the army.
“He fled across the country. He created a false identity using cleverly forged documents. He assumed a false name, even a false biography. And then he underwent extensive plastic surgery to drastically alter his appearance.
“Eventually Sergeant First Class Kubik, having assumed the name Thomas Chapman, moved to Boston, where he lived as a fugitive under a false name, with a new face. For thirteen years he escaped his crime.
“Until a few weeks ago, when a lucky tip led us to him, and he was apprehended by federal marshals.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is not the behavior of an innocent man. This is the behavior of a very clever, very calculating man who knew he was liable to be prosecuted for committing cold-blooded murder.
“We have rules, ladies and gentlemen. We have laws. Even in wartime-especially in wartime, some would argue-our conduct is governed by strict, honorable laws. And we do not slaughter innocent civilians for the demented pleasure of it. That way madness lies.
“The evidence you will hear in this trial will shock you and horrify you. All I ask is that it move you-to demonstrate that we Americans must never do such horrific things. And that you find Sergeant First Class Ronald Kubik guilty of murder in the first degree.
“Justice demands it.”
Quietly, he returned to his table.
There was a long, shocked silence.
Judge Farrell cleared his throat. “Defense counsel, do you have an opening statement, or do you wish to reserve?”
“I’m going to reserve, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Then we will recess for the weekend. On Monday at oh-nine-thirty we will resume with the prosecution’s case in chief.”
Claire sank into her chair, drained.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Two grease-spattered cardboard pizza boxes sat on the library desk, empty Coke cans resting on top of them. It was late Friday night. Between Waldron’s opening statement that morning, and the meeting with General Marks in the afternoon after court, it had been a long day. It had been barely a week since the Article 32 hearing, yet it felt like months.
Grimes and Embry sprawled in their usual chairs. Ray Devereaux was sweeping the room for bugs, going through the frequencies of an RF frequency-finder, which looked like a radio with a long antenna. Claire paced.
“What if we’d never brought it up with the general?” she said. “What if he’d never boasted he had immunity? When was the prosecution planning on telling us?”
Grimes and Embry said nothing.
“Aren’t they required to notify the defense of any grant of immunity,” she went on, “and serve us a copy of it before the arraignment?”
“Actually,” Grimes said wearily, “it says ‘or within a reasonable time before the witness testifies,’ something like that.”
“Which means whenever the fuck they feel like it.”
“Basically.”
“It’s clean,” Devereaux announced. “You can talk freely.”
“Bugs never stopped her before,” Grimes said.
“I wonder if we should raise this issue with the judge,” Claire said.
Embry shook his head slowly but said nothing.
“Claire,” Grimes said, “let me tell you something. When you decided to voir dire the judge, when you went after him, you pissed him off royally. You questioned his integrity. Now I think it’s time for you to cool it, lay off the guy. Stop pissing him off.”
“I don’t intend to stop pissing him off,” she replied. “Here we are, we have no witnesses to corroborate Tom’s account, and if we ask for a continuance, Farrell will laugh. The sworn statements from the other members of his unit are suspiciously identical-”
“You think they were coached?” Embry asked.
“They have to be.”
“How can we ferret that out?”
“The only way,” she said, “is from the witnesses. To try to get the unit members still living to repudiate the statements they made to CID thirteen years ago. So who do we have?”
Ray Devereaux spoke up. “The two Waldron mentioned as being the ones who saw Tom fire his machine gun are Hernandez and a guy named Henry Abbott. Hernandez you’ve already talked to.”
“He’s the general’s boy,” Grimes said. “He’ll never back down. Though I may be able to trap him, corner him, if I’m lucky. Who’s Abbott?”
“Staff Sergeant Henry Abbott left the army in 1985. Went into the private sector. Defense-contractor work, specifically.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Grimes said.
“He’s in ‘government liaison’ at one of those big scary defense corporations. That means he sells to the Pentagon. So somehow I don’t think he’s going to turn state’s evidence for you. The Pentagon’s got him by the proverbial short hairs.”
“He’s on the prosecution’s witness list,” Embry said. “But we don’t know when he’s being called.”
“He’s in Washington,” Devereaux said, always the master of timing. “At the Madison Hotel.”
“Let’s see him,” Claire said.
“I’ve set up a breakfast for you guys,” Devereaux said. “Tomorrow morning at seven.”
“What?” Claire said. “Thanks for telling us-”
“Seven?” Grimes moaned.
“I just set it up,” Devereaux said. He turned to Grimes. “He’s an early riser.”
“Or he’s just busting our balls,” Grimes said. “Who does that leave us?”
“Two others,” Devereaux said. “Robert Lentini and Mark Fahey. Fahey I finally located. He’s in real estate in Pepper Pike, Ohio. Wherever the hell that is. I talked to him. He might be worth talking to-it’s hard to say. He seems sort of embittered about his army experience. Not exactly gung-ho.”
“Our kind of guy,” Claire said.
“Then there’s Lentini,” Devereaux went on. “The mystery man. All I can turn up is his enlistment photo, which I put in a request for; they ought to dig it up in a few days, but it’s not going to do us any good. After that, nothing. No files on him. No record of where he ended up. I checked the U.S. Army Reserve Personnel Center in St. Louis, which keeps the records of all personnel who’ve left the army. And the U.S. Total Army Command, in Virginia, where they keep the active army files. Zippo. And there’s no record of his death anywhere.”