Judge McCabe stroked his chin for a moment as he studied the document before him. Clearing his throat, he looked up at Pearlie.
“Do you hereby state before this court that you are the person identified in this indictment as Pearlie?”
“I do, Your Honor,” Pearlie replied.
“Then Pearlie it shall be,” McCabe said. He turned back to the document and continued to read. “In the case of The People verses Pearlie, the charge is murder, and murder in the first degree.”
This time, McCabe looked over at the prosecutor’s table. “Murder in the first degree? Are you sure you wouldn’t like to amend this charge? I was under the impression that it was a spur-of-the-moment killing. Murder in the first degree requires premeditation. That’s going to be a hard case to make, don’t you think?”
“First degree, Judge,” Quentin called out. “I want this son of a bitch to hang.”
Angrily, McCabe picked up his gavel and brought it down sharply on the table. “Order in the court!” he said. “Any more outbursts like that, Mr. Quentin, and I will have you escorted from this court. Do you understand?”
Quentin glared at the judge, but said nothing.
“Do you understand, sir?” McCabe asked, the tone of his voice even sharper than before.
“Yeah, I understand,” Quentin replied.
Gilmore turned toward Quentin. “This is going to be hard enough as it is,” he said quietly. “Please don’t make it any harder.”
“Mr. Prosecutor, do you wish to amend the charge?” McCabe asked again.
“No, Your Honor. There is no set time limit for pre-medication. It can be as little as a second.”
“Very well, the charge shall be prosecuted as entered. With lawyer for the defense present, and with the prosecutor present, we shall now proceed with voir dire of the impaneled jury.”
The first juror questioned by Murchison was James Colby. “Mr. Colby, what is your occupation?”
“I’m a rancher—sort of,” Colby replied.
“Sort of?”
“I’m still running longhorns when everyone else is switching to Herefords. It’s getting harder to hang on.”
“Did you know Billy Ray Quentin?”
“Yeah, I knew him,” Colby replied.
“How well did you know him?”
“In a town this size, and with someone like Billy Ray, almost every one knew him.”
“What do you mean, someone like Billy Ray?”
“He was the son of the wealthiest man in the county. And he could be quite unpleasant. Like I said, everyone knew him.”
“Do you have any financial obligation or business relationship with Pogue Quentin?”
“No,” Colby answered resolutely.
“Do you think you could render an honest verdict, based entirely upon the evidence presented in this case?”
“I do.”
“The defense accepts the juror, Your Honor,” Murchison said, returning to his seat.
“Voir dire, Mr. Prosecutor?” McCabe said.
Gilmore stood up, but did not walk away from the prosecutor’s table. “Mr. Colby, you said that Billy Ray could be unpleasant. What did you mean by that?”
“You knew him as well as I did, Percy,” Colby answered. “Why would you even have to ask such a thing?”
“Did you like Billy Ray?”
“I don’t know if anyone liked him,” Colby replied. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be fair.”
“I see. Let’s change directions, Mr. Colby. Were you present at a meeting in Pogue Quentin’s home several months ago, when several ranchers from the area made the decision to pool their livestock and property into one larger cooperative ranch?”
“You know I was. You were there, too.”
“Yes, I was. And I know the answer to this question as well, but I want you to answer it for sake of the court. Did you join with the others?”
“No. I did not.”
“Why didn’t you join, Mr. Colby?”
Colby looked over toward Quentin with a disapproving expression on his face.
“Because I thought he was just settin’ everything up so as to cheat us out of our land,” Colby said. “And it turns out that I was right. Gillespie, Peters, Baker, and the others—they are all gone now. Gone without so much as one cow or one acre to their name. Quentin owns it all.”
“Do you find fault with Mr. Quentin for that?”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Do you blame Mr. Quentin for the fact that these other gentlemen you mentioned lost their property?”
“You damn right I do,” Colby said resolutely. “He stole that land from them as sure as if he had done it with a gun.”
Gilmore turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, dismiss for cause. It is clear that there is some animosity between this juror and the father of the victim.”
“You may step down, Mr. Colby,” McCabe said. “You are dismissed from this jury.”
Gilmore dismissed two more of the potential jurors, both of whom had had run-ins with Billy Ray, and Murchison dismissed two of the jurors who were currently cowboys working for the Tumbling Q. They finally ended up with a panel of twelve.
“Those jurors who have been dismissed may stay as spectators, but you are to have no contact with the remaining jurors,” McCabe said. He looked over toward Gilmore. “Mr. Prosecutor, you may give your opening statement now. Make your case.”
Gilmore walked over to the jury. “Hello, Greg,” he said to the first juror. “Is your wife going to enter her plum jam in the county fair this year?”
The juror smiled. “Yes, sir, she sure is. You know Alice. Her plum jam has won a blue ribbon for the last three years running.”
“As it should have. I know it’s certainly the best I’ve ever eaten.” Gilmore smiled. “In fact, I had it on a biscuit for breakfast this morning. I’m sure she’ll do well again this year.”
Gilmore turned to the next man. “Good afternoon, Adam, how is little Sterling doing? I know he broke his arm. Is it healing up all right?”
“His arm is coming along just fine,” Adam replied. “He complains that the cast makes it itch all the time.”
Gilmore chuckled. “Oh, indeed, it will certainly do that. I remember that I broke my arm when I was about the same age as young Sterling is now. I fell off the roof of the barn. But you just remind him how good it will feel when he can finally get the cast off and scratch.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do that,” Adam said.
Gilmore went on down the line, speaking to every other member of the jury in the same way, calling each of them by name and making some personal comment, either about them, or about someone in their family.
“Now, fellas,” he said, after he had spoken to each one of them individually, “in a few minutes, that man sitting behind the table over there”—Gilmore pointed to Murchison—“the counsel for the defense, is going to give you his opening statement. No doubt, he is going to begin by addressing you as ‘gentlemen of the jury.’
“He has to do that, you understand, because he doesn’t know you. He is a stranger to our town, and it will be a stranger who addresses you.”
Gilmore pointed to Pearlie.
“A few days ago, the defendant was also a stranger to our town. None of us had ever heard of him. But he is certainly not a stranger any more. By now, everyone in town knows him, and knows the evil deed he did. You see, nine days ago the defendant, this—spawn of Cain—came into town, had a few drinks, got into a card game, and became so enraged over what was happening in that game that he killed—no—he murdered Billy Ray Quentin.
“I knew Billy Ray. All of you knew Billy Ray. In fact, I would go so far as to say that everyone in town either knew him or knew of him. We knew him because he was the son of Mr. Pogue Quentin, who is, arguably, the wealthiest man and the leading citizen of our fair city.”
Gilmore paused in his presentation and looked pointedly toward Quentin, inviting everyone else to look as well.