“The same objection,” Hamilton Burger hastily interposed. “This is getting at the same matter in a slightly different form of questioning. The Court has already ruled on it.”
“Well, the Court is going to reverse its ruling,” Judge Kent said. “The question as it is now framed by counsel certainly indicates a situation which should be inquired into and which may well be pertinent to the issues in this case. The witness will answer the question.”
Jennings gave every evidence of uneasiness. “I found my dog had been hurt,” he said. “I took him to a veterinarian.”
“What veterinarian?”
“I don’t think I have to tell that.”
“What veterinarian?” Mason asked.
“Dr. Canfield,” Jennings said sullenly.
“At what time did you take him there?”
“About one o’clock in the morning, I guess.”
“Now,” Mason said, “let us assume for the sake of this question that young Robert woke up from a sound sleep, that he was startled, that he thought someone was about to attack him, that he had this weapon under his pillow and that the weapon, in some manner, had become loaded. He raised the weapon and pulled the trigger. He could very well have shot this dog, Rover, couldn’t he?”
“I suppose he could have. I don’t know. I found Rover bleeding. He evidently had been injured. I didn’t know whether he’d been struck by an automobile or what had happened, so I took him to a veterinarian.”
“And did the veterinarian work on the dog?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did the veterinarian tell you what was wrong with the dog?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t wait to find out. I left the dog, told the veterinarian to do whatever was required and then returned home.”
“Have you seen the dog since?”
Again Jennings hesitated, then said, “Yes, the dog is recovering.”
“From a bullet wound?”
“I have not asked.”
“Have you been informed?”
“I told the veterinarian I didn’t care about the details, all I wanted was for the dog to get well.”
“If the Court please,” Mason said, “an X ray can determine if a bullet is somewhere in the dog’s body. If the bullet was fired from the same gun which killed Mervin Selkirk, the bullets will have the same characteristics. It can, therefore, be determined that the bullet which killed Mervin Selkirk was fired from the Jennings gun, despite the fact that the barrel has been mutilated so that it is impossible to get the characteristics of that barrel with a test bullet.”
Jennings moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. Hamilton Burger started to say something, then changed his mind.
“Now then,” Mason went on, “Robert subsequently told you that a man had been entering the tent where he was sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“That was supposed to have happened before you had taken the dog to the veterinarian?”
“Yes.”
“And that dog was a trained watchdog?”
“Yes.”
“He would have guarded Robert with his life?”
“Yes.”
“But the dog made no noise?”
“No. That’s how I knew it was just a dream that Robert had,” Barton Jennings said triumphantly.
“Yes,” Mason said, “it could have been a dream, or it could have been that the man who was entering the tent was one that the dog trusted. Suppose Mervin Selkirk had gone to the tent to kidnap Robert, or suppose you yourself had decided you wanted that gun, Mr. Jennings. Suppose you went to the tent and listened. You heard Robert apparently sleeping peacefully so you tiptoed your way into the tent without speaking, hoping to reach under his pillow and get the gun, and then suddenly there was the roar of an explosion. You heard the bullet hit the body of the dog, the dog ran from the tent and you ran after him. You saw that the dog was bleeding quite badly. You had left your car with the license number JYJ 113 parked at the curb. You hurriedly wrapped a blanket around the dog and rushed him to the veterinarian. Then you returned to the house, parked your car in front of the house and entered to have your wife tell you about the story Robert had told of firing the gun.”
“It didn’t happen that way. I was asleep. I didn’t hear about Robert’s dream until much later.”
“Tut-tut,” Mason said. “A neighbor remembers hearing the sound of a shot. You admit that you took the dog to Dr. Canfield, the veterinarian. We will check Dr. Canfield’s records and I think we will find that those records show you arrived at his place with the wounded dog prior to one o’clock in the morning.”
“Well, what if I did?”
“Then you couldn’t have been asleep while Robert was relating his dream,” Mason said.
“All right,” Barton Jennings said, “I wasn’t asleep. I had taken the dog to the veterinarian just as you suggest.”
“You were wakened by the shot?”
Jennings hesitated, then said, “Yes, I was wakened by the shot.”
“And dressed?”
“Yes.”
“And then went out to the tent to see what had caused the shot?”
“No, I went to the wounded dog.”
“And where was the wounded dog?”
“Lying by the car.”
Mason smiled and shook his head. “You’re wrong, Jennings. The wounded dog wouldn’t have gone to the car unless you had taken him to the car. The wounded dog would have gone to the house, looking for help. The fact that the dog went directly to the car and that there was a trail of blood on the lawn leading to the car indicates that you were with the dog at the time he was shot.”
“That question is argumentative, if the Court please,” Hamilton Burger said.
“It may be argumentative, but its logic is so forceful that the Court will take judicial cognizance of it,” Judge Kent said.
He leaned forward. “Mr. Jennings.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Look at me.”
The witness turned to look at the Court.
“You have already contradicted yourself upon two or three vital points. Those contradictions when a person is under oath constitute perjury, and perjury is punishable by imprisonment. Now I want to know what happened. Did you take the dog to the car after the dog was shot?”
Jennings hesitated, looked down at his feet, looked at Hamilton Burger, then hastily avoided his eyes, turned to Perry Mason, found no comfort there, and remained silent with his eyes downcast.
“Did you?” Judge Kent asked.
“Yes,” Barton Jennings said after a moment.
“In other words,” Mason said, “you went out to the tent to get that gun from under Robert’s pillow, didn’t you?”
“Well... all right, I did.”
“You listened at the tent and heard Robert breathing regularly and thought he was sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t realize until afterward that Robert, not recognizing you and utterly terrified, was feigning sleep, but had the gun in his hand.”
“I guess so, yes.”
“So you entered the tent with the dog either at your heels or just in front of you. You reached out toward the pillow and it was then that Robert shot.”
“All right.”
“As you heard the bullet hit the dog, you turned and raced out of the tent and saw that the dog was injured. You remembered that your automobile was parked there at the curb and you raced toward the automobile with the dog following you.
“While you were getting the door of the automobile open, the dog stood there, and there was a pool of blood at the curb where he stood. Then you wrapped the dog in a blanket, got him in the automobile and hurried to the veterinarian. You left the dog and then returned as fast as you could to your home. You found your wife had comforted Robert and had put him back to bed. Your wife had told Robert that you were sleeping in the bedroom, but actually she knew better.”