“Did you come to search the glove compartment?”
“I did.”
“And what did you find there?”
“A small pistol.”
“Could you describe the pistol?”
“It was a thirty-two-caliber Smith and Wesson revolver with a four-inch barrel.”
“Did you conduct ballistics tests on this pistol for the purpose of comparing a bullet from this gun to the bullet removed from Chief Marley’s head?”
“The pistol was sent to the state crime lab for that purpose.”
“And did the lab issue a report?”
Wallace produced a sheet of paper. “Yes. The lab found that the bullet removed from Chief Marley’s head was fired from the revolver found in Sweeney’s van.”
Skene handed the ballistics report to the clerk. “Entered as evidence. No further questions.”
“No questions, Your Honor,” Oxenhandler said.
“Recall Detective Robert Hurst,” Skene said, and Hurst took the stand again and was reminded that he was still under oath. “Detective Hurst, in your investigations, did you learn that Sweeney’s van had a connection with the crime scene, and if so, how?”
“Yes, I learned that the tread on the right rear tire of the van matched the plaster impression I had taken at the crime scene.”
“Did you interrogate Sweeney and Cooper subsequent to that time?”
“Yes.”
“Did Sweeney admit ownership of a gun, and if so, what kind?”
“Yes, he admitted ownership of a thirty-two-caliber revolver.”
“No further questions.”
Oxenhandler stood. “Detective, during your questioning of Mr. Sweeney and Ms. Cooper, did you mention to them the make of pistol found in their van?”
“I’m not sure whether I did,” Hurst replied. “I told them that we had found a thirty-two revolver in the van, and Sweeney admitted to owning a pistol of the same description.”
“But the description did not include the name of the maker?”
“I’m not sure that it did.”
“Thank you, no further questions.”
Skene stood. “Your Honor, I have no further witnesses.”
“Mr. Oxenhandler, do you wish to call any witnesses?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I wish to call Samuel Sweeney.”
Sweeney was sworn. He was now clean-shaven and barbered, and his clothes looked new.
“Mr. Sweeney, how long have you resided at the campsite off highway A1A?”
“A little over two weeks.”
Oxenhandler took Sweeney through his account of his activities on the evening of the chief’s shooting. “So you were not at your camp between the hours of eleven and eleven-thirty P.M.?”
“No, I was not.”
“Mr. Sweeney, do you own a pistol?”
“Yes, I own a Colt thirty-two-caliber pistol with a two-inch barrel.”
“When Detective Hurst asked you if you owned a pistol, and you affirmed that you did, was the Colt pistol the one to which you were referring?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Do you own a thirty-two Smith and Wesson pistol?”
“No, I do not.”
“I have no further questions of Mr. Sweeney, Your Honor, but in trial I can produce witnesses confirming his presence on that evening at both the movie theater and the gas station where he left his tire to be repaired. I can also produce a witness who can testify that he changed a tire on or near the spot where Chief Marley was shot, only a few minutes before that event occurred.”
“Any questions for Mr. Sweeney, Mr. Skene?” the judge asked.
“Not at this time, Your Honor.”
“Any other witnesses, Mr. Oxenhandler?”
“One, Your Honor. Call Mr. Everett Schwartz.”
A man sitting near Holly in the front row of the courtroom got up, took the stand and was sworn.
“Mr. Schwartz, how do you earn your living?”
“I’m a gun dealer. I have a shop in Jacksonville, and on weekends I often attend gun shows, where I buy and sell weapons.”
“Do you recognize the gentleman sitting at the defense table?”
“I do.”
“Have you ever sold him a gun?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of gun?”
“A thirty-two-caliber Colt revolver with a two-inch barrel, nickel plated.”
“When and where did you make this sale?”
“Four weeks ago, at a gun sale in Jacksonville.”
“Can you substantiate this sale?”
Schwartz produced two sheets of paper. “Here are a copy of the bill of sale and a copy of the federal form that Mr. Sweeney filled out and signed.”
Oxenhandler handed the papers to the clerk. “Entered in evidence. I have no further questions.” He returned to his seat.
The judge turned to Skene. “Any questions, Mr. Skene?”
“No, Your Honor,” Skene replied.
“Any further witnesses, Mr. Oxenhandler?”
“Your Honor, may counsel approach the bench?”
She nodded.
Holly watched as the two lawyers went to the bench and had a spirited conversation that went on for perhaps three minutes. Oxenhandler was calm and insistent, while Skene seemed outraged.
“Step back,” the judge said finally, and the two attorneys stood near their respective tables.
“Do you have a motion, Mr. Oxenhandler?” the judge asked.
“Move for dismissal of all charges,” the lawyer replied.
“Mr. Skene?” the judge said.
“The state does not oppose the motion, Your Honor, but reserves the right to bring these charges again at a later date.”
The judge said, “Motion granted, charges are dismissed. Mr. Sweeney, Ms. Cooper, you are free to go.”
“Your Honor,” Oxenhandler said, “will you restore Mr. Sweeney’s van and possessions?”
“So ordered,” the judge said. “Court is adjourned.”
Holly sat on the bench, unmoving, astounded. So what, if Sweeney owned a different gun? That didn’t mean he didn’t own more than one. She stood up and intercepted Skene as he walked down the aisle. “Marty, what happened?”
“I’ll call you later,” he said, looking furious. “We’ll need to talk.”
Holly moved down the aisle and left the courtroom. Hurd Wallace and Bob Hurst were standing in the hallway outside, talking animatedly. They attempted to question Skene, but he brushed them off and stalked from the building. She started toward Wallace and Hurst, but stopped when someone took her arm from behind. She turned to find Jackson Oxenhandler towering over her.
“May I speak to you for a moment in private?” he asked.
She followed him to an unpopulated corner of the hallway. “What happened in there?”
“I explained to the judge that a search of records showed that the thirty-two Smith and Wesson revolver is registered to Amanda Smith Wallace, who is the ex-wife of Hurd Wallace.”
Holly’s mouth dropped open.
“Your mouth is open,” Oxenhandler said.
Holly closed it, but she was unable to say anything.
“I disclosed this at the bench, rather than in open court, to avoid publicly embarrassing the department. I trust you’ll take the appropriate steps.”
Holly nodded.
Oxenhandler smiled a little. “I’ll call you for dinner,” he said, then walked away.
Holly walked to where Wallace and Hurst were standing. “Back at the station, in my office, now,” she said.
CHAPTER
15
Holly followed the two officers into her office and closed the door, trying her best not to slam it. She sat down at her desk. “Does either of you know what happened in the courtroom?”
“No,” they said simultaneously.