“Well, first of all, I told them to put out the damn fire, which they did. Then they determined that the victim was dead. By the time I arrived, they had pried the man’s wallet out of his pocket. Luckily the boy had a tough cowhide wallet and his driver’s license wasn’t entirely incinerated. The writing was all melted, but I could still make out the picture. I recognized Vuong, of course, from that trouble he was in last year.”
“Yes, well, tell us how your investigation proceeded,” Swain said hastily. Naturally he didn’t want anyone suggesting that the victim was anything less than saintly.
“Since I knew Vuong lived out at Coi Than Tien, we banged on some doors and talked to some of them folks. None of them seemed to have much to tell us, though.”
“What led you to the defendant?”
The corners of the sheriff’s lips turned upward slightly. “In a sense, he led himself to us. We were driving back to town and I saw him wandering around on the side of the road. I asked him what he was doing out at that time of night.”
“And what was Mr. Vick’s alibi?”
“Objection.” Ben jumped to his feet. “The use of the word alibi suggests that the statement was false and that—”
“Oh, fine,” Swain said testily. He rolled his eyes so the jury could see. He was working double time to portray himself as the seeker of truth and Ben as the man hiding it. “I’ll rephrase. What was Mr. Vick’s explanation for his presence not far from the murder scene shortly after it occurred?”
Thanks, Ben thought. Much better.
Collier faced the jury. “He said he was out getting some mountain air.” Several jurors smiled. One flat out chuckled. Their thinking was obvious: only a liar would have such a lame alibi. Ben was apparently the only one in the courtroom who thought its very lameness probably proved it hadn’t been invented.
“Why are they laughing?” Vick asked. Ben was startled; it was the first time Vick had spoken to him since the trial began. “I was just out walking. I did that every night.”
“We’ll bring that out later,” Ben assured him. Not that anyone was likely to believe it.
“Was there anything unusual about the defendant’s appearance?” Swain asked.
“You better believe it. While we were talking I noticed a big splattering of blood on his shirt.”
The crowd stirred. Another previously unrevealed piece of incriminating evidence.
“What did you do then?”
“Well, I figured I needed to ask the boy a few questions. I said, ‘Vick, I just found out Tommy Vuong is dead.’ That seemed to take him by surprise; I expect he didn’t think we’d find the body so fast. Then I said, ‘Vuong is dead, and here I find you wandering around in the middle of the night with blood on your shirt. Did you kill him?’ ”
Swain took his time with the next question. “And what was Vick’s response?”
“Well, there was this long silence. I didn’t think he was going to answer at all. And then, out of the blue, real sudden like, he up and says, ‘Vuong deserved to die.’ ”
The jurors’ heads turned, checking one another’s expression. Swain paused, protracting the silence as long as possible.
“That’s all I have,” Swain said. “Pass the witness.”
Ben took his time approaching the witness stand. It seemed like a good strategy—build up some anticipation, make him seem confident and unconcerned. Also, it would give him a chance to figure out what the hell he was going to ask the man.
“Did you read my client his rights before you initiated the interrogation?” Ben asked.
“Hell, no,” Collier said. “I was just shooting the breeze with him. I had no idea he was going to up and confess.”
“Well, now wait a minute,” Ben said. “He didn’t actually confess, did he?”
“Sure as shootin’ sounded like it to me.”
“Did he say, ‘I killed Vuong’?”
“Not in as many words.”
“Not in any words, right?”
“Not as such, no. But why else would he say that Vuong deserved to die?”
“Many people probably deserve to die, but that doesn’t mean Donald Vick killed them, does it?”
“Depends on whether I find their blood on his shirt,” Collier said defiantly.
“Well, let’s talk about that now. Did you run any tests on the bloodstain?”
“No. Why bother?”
“So you don’t actually know whose blood was on his shirt, right?”
“Who the hell else’s could it be? Unless your boy killed two people that night!”
“Move to strike,” Ben said. “Request that the jury be instructed to disregard.”
Judge Tyler promptly did so.
“Did Donald Vick say anything else to you that night?”
“Not a word. Totally clammed up.”
“So you’ve been claiming for weeks that Donald confessed, when in fact all he did was say that he didn’t like Vuong very much.”
“That’s not how I—”
“Thank you,” Ben said. “I have no more questions.” Ben suspected he had done all he could do with this witness who obviously sympathized with the prosecution. It was best to get him off the stand before he caused any more damage.
There was no redirect. For some reason, Swain was procrastinating about calling his next witness.
“Have you any other witnesses?” Judge Tyler finally asked.
“Yes,” Swain said. He rose, then turned to face the gallery. “The prosecution calls Daniel Dunagan to the stand.”
51.
THERE HAD BEEN A few gasps and twitters from the gallery before, but nothing compared to the stunned reaction that occurred now. Grand Dragon Dunagan was going to testify—against one of his own?
Ben had to amend his initial observation. Everyone in the gallery seemed surprised—except Grand Dragon Dunagan. He walked calmly to the front of the courtroom and took his seat in the witness stand. He closed his eyes as the bailiff read the oath, then answered in a booming voice, “So help me God.”
Swain made his way quickly through the preliminaries and established that Dunagan was the Grand Dragon of ASP.
“Now that’s kind of a funny title,” Swain said. “Why do they call you that?”
“It’s a million years old,” Swain said. He seemed embarrassed. “In the early days, all the Anglo-Saxon organizations used titles like that. Frankly I’ve been trying to get them to call me President Dunagan for years. But old habits die hard.”
Swain was nodding, as if he really bought into this. “You know, I think there may be some misunderstandings about what ASP is. Can you give the jury some background?”
“ASP is a legitimate, fully registered, lobbying organization designed to promote political change.”
“What changes do you advocate?”
“First let me tell you what we don’t advocate. We don’t advocate any laws that would hurt the non-Anglo-Saxon races. My motto is ‘live and let live.’ All we favor is separation, letting people work and play among their own. I know that may not be politically correct, but it’s the way this country worked for a good long time, and frankly most people think the world was better then than it is today.”
“How do you pursue your political goals?”
“By lobbying the government. And by establishing camps where people can get away and live among their own kind.”
“Do these camps stockpile weapons?”
“Yes. And we train our people how to use them, too. But only for defensive purposes. When you live out in the wild like that, with no easy access to law enforcement, you have to learn how to take care of yourself. But we absolutely do not engage in aggressive, violent, or terroristic acts!”
“Then ASP wouldn’t, for instance, firebomb a car?”