Tribal Court (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 2)

by Stephen Penner

  "Did they refer it to the Tacoma Police or the Pierce County Sheriff's Department?"

  "They didn't refer it to anyone." Stacy shook her head, her teeth clenched. "Johnny had to call again a week later. They told him Traver had stopped registering, they didn't know where he was, and there was nothing more they could do."

  "And is that when Johnny decided to go find Traver?"

  "I guess so." Stacy nodded. "He told me he was going to find the man who did that to Caitlyn and make things right."

  "Did he explain what he meant by 'make things right'?"

  "Nope," Stacy said. "And I didn't ask."

  Talon nodded, as if she hadn't already heard this story a half-dozen times. "Did he show you anything before he left?"

  Stacy sniffled again and offered a quiet, "Yes." She knew what the next question was going to be.

  Talon nodded to the bailiff and he extracted the cardboard box from its secure location under his desk. Talon took it and opened it for Stacy to see inside. It was the knife, already admitted into evidence during Brunelle's case-in-chief.

  "Is this what he showed you?"

  "Yes," Stacy answered. "That's my grandpa's knife. Our grandpa's knife. He carved the handle himself."

  "So it holds special significance for your family?"

  "Oh yes." Stacy turned to the jury to explain. "When grandpa died, we kept it in a special box. Our family doesn't have much, but that knife was special."

  Talon nodded. She shifted gears, ever so slightly. "Do you know whether Johnny usually carried a weapon?"

  "Oh no," Stacy was quick to reply.

  Of course not, Brunelle thought sarcastically. What self-respecting gang member would ever carry a weapon?

  "I mean," Stacy continued, "he knows some people who do carry—"

  Fellow NGBs.

  "—but not Johnny."

  "Okay," Talon summarized. "So after you told him what Traver did to Caitlyn, and after the police said they weren't going to do anything, that's when Johnny—who doesn't normally carry a weapon—took your grandfather's ceremonial knife and said he was going to confront Traver and make things right?"

  "Yes."

  "No further questions."

  Talon sat down and Judge LeClair glared down at Brunelle. "Any cross examination?" he practically challenged.

  Brunelle stood up.

  Your brother is a member of the Native Gangster Bloods street gang, isn't that correct?

  He is more than accustomed to violence, right?

  He didn't know anything about some ancient rite of blood revenge, did he?

  He was just angry and wanted to hurt the man who'd hurt his niece, right?

  "No questions, Your Honor. Thank you."

  He sat down again.

  There was no good way to cross examine the mother of a child molestation victim.

  Chapter 44

  "Joseph Red Deer," Talon's expert smiled to the jury. He was central casting for Native American academic. Tall, not skinny but not fat, deep skin tone, and black hair pulled back into a pony tail and just beginning to gray at the temples.

  "Where do you work, Mr. Red Deer?" Talon asked from her spot in the attorney well.

  "I am the assistant director of the Northwest Native American Museum in Kelso, Washington."

  "And in that capacity, are you familiar with the customs and traditions of the Northwest coastal tribes?"

  "In that capacity and also personally," he nodded. "I am a member of the Quinault Nation."

  "Are you familiar with a specific tradition known as blood revenge?"

  "Yes," Red Deer told the jury with a subdued smile. "I am."

  "Please tell us about it."

  And so he did. It wasn't materially different from anything O'Brien had said. That was important. If it had been, then Brunelle would have needed to cross examine him hard on the differences. But it was basically the same. And really, it should have been. O'Brien wasn't lying. He was just white. And more importantly, he was called by the prosecution, so the defense felt the need to call a competing expert. Except that when the defense expert agreed with the prosecution expert, there wasn't much competition. Still, Brunelle listened patiently. He knew exactly where their opinions would diverge. Everyone agreed blood revenge existed. They just disagreed about whether it still applied. Or should.

  "So let me ask you this," Talon sharpened her focus as she neared the end of her examination. "I'd like you to assume that the jurisdiction for this prosecution is based on the 1854 Treaty of Medicine Creek between the Duwallup Nation and the United States government. I'd like you to further assume that because of that, we are applying Duwallup tribal law at the time of the adoption of the treaty."

  "All right," Red Deer answered slowly, as if Talon hadn't completely scripted this and likely even rehearsed it with him a few times.

  "Was blood revenge the law at the time the treaty was adopted in 1854?"

  Red Deer nodded thoughtfully. "Now, you see. Even that question fails to properly understand Native tradition."

  A smile curled in the corner of Talon's mouth. "Please explain."

  "Well, you asked me if that was the law, but the question assumes that Native cultures passed and adopted laws like contemporaneous European cultures. In fact, tradition and custom played a far greater role in Native cultures than they did in European-based societies. European elites have a long tradition of passing laws in order to break traditions—to overpower cultural norms through legislative fiat and punishment. Indeed, Native cultures across the world have been the subject of such efforts by European colonists who outlaw Native cultures and languages in an effort to, in their words, civilize the Natives. You can see this from English efforts to eradicate Scottish and Irish culture to American atrocities like the Indian Schools and the Trail of Tears.

  "But in Native societies, traditions weren't just important, they were sacred. To say something was tradition was tantamount to saying it was the law. And blood revenge was absolutely an accepted Native tradition."

  Talon's nodded. "Thank you, sir. No further questions."

  LeClair looked down. "Any cross examination, Mr. Brunelle?"

  "Yes, Your Honor," he answered as he stood up. "Briefly."

  One thing Brunelle knew was to never argue with an expert while he was still on the stand. Argue with him in closing argument when he can't respond.

  O'Brien had said the offending tribe understood that blood revenge would be coming and they were supposed to accept it. Red Deer just said blood revenge was an accepted tradition. So Brunelle could tell the jury, in closing, that Red Deer had agreed with O'Brien that blood revenge was only allowed if the offending tribe,—or in this case George Traver—knew blood revenge would be coming and he was supposed to accept it. There was no way Talon could credibly argue that Traver knew he would be killed for molesting Caitlyn, let alone that he would accept it, so therefore Red Deer supported the prosecution's theory and the defendant is guilty.

  Great closing. Terrible cross. Ask Red Deer to agree with that and he'd turn to the jury and explain exactly why Brunelle was a full of shit.

  So instead, Brunelle asked him, "Blood revenge wasn't limited to Native American tribes, was it?"

  Red Deer frowned. "Well, my expertise is mainly with Native cultures."

  "Okay." Brunelle could see he'd need to guide him a little bit. Maybe just as well. Show the jury he'd thought about the idea himself. "You've heard of 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,' right?"

  Red Deer grinned. "Of course."

  "And that was similar to blood revenge, correct?"

  "I suppose," Red Deer agreed after a moment. "Although it seems to address transgressions short of killing."

  My point exactly, Brunelle thought. Although he wondered how he could argue that the proper revenge against Traver would have been to sexually assault him, rather than kill him.

  "And are you familiar with the Latin phrase 'lex talionis'?" Brunelle asked, then translated, "The law
of the talion."

  "I believe," Red Deer replied, "it was a similar concept."

  "Right," Brunelle said. "If you damage someone, you will be damaged in the same way."

  "Okay," Red Deer replied.

  "And are you familiar with Professor Miller's work on Icelandic sagas and blood feuds?"

  Red Deer offered a half smirk. "Uh, no. I'm afraid I'm not."

  Well, good. Neither am I.

  Brunelle took a few steps away from the witness stand then turned around again. The purpose was to get everyone to look at him, not Red Deer. "But will you agree with me that many European-based societies practiced some sort of retributive justice similar to the concepts underpinning blood revenge?"

  Red Deer thought for a moment, then nodded. "I think that's a true statement."

  "But 'lex talionis' isn't the law in Italy any more, is it?"

  Red Deer smiled. He got it. "No, I don't believe so."

  "And they aren't stabbing people's eyes out in courts in Israel, are they?"

  "No." The smile tightened a bit. "I don't believe they are."

  "And last time I checked, there are no Viking blood feuds raging in Iceland, right?"

  "Last I checked," Red Deer agreed.

  "Even the Hatfields and the McCoys have stopped fighting, isn't that right?"

  "I haven't heard much about that feud recently," Red Deer replied.

  "So…" Brunelle stepped back to the witness stand. "Are you telling me that the Duwallup Nation is alone among civilized people in still condoning vigilante revenge killings?"

  The smiled melted away, but Red Deer didn't say anything.

  Brunelle waited for the reply. He didn't mind. What really mattered was his question. And every second Red Deer delayed just showed how much he didn't want to admit the answer.

  "I'm saying blood revenge was an important tradition for many Native people, including the Duwallup."

  "So, the Duwallup Indian Reservation is the one place in the civilized world where it's acceptable—required even—for neighbor to murder neighbor?"

  "Of course not," Red Deer started. "That's not—"

  Brunelle interrupted. "Of course not, you said?"

  "Yes. Of course not."

  Brunelle smiled. "I think you're absolutely right. Thank you. No further questions."

  Talon popped up before Brunelle even sat down. She didn't wait for the judge to inquire if she had more questions.

  "But the difference is," she half-asked, half-stated, "that these other cultures decided to abandon that practice, whereas our laws and traditions were forcibly supplanted by so-called treaties that were rarely if ever honored, isn't that correct?"

  It was a good question—despite being ridiculously objectionable as leading—but it didn't matter. Brunelle had made his point.

  "Er, yes," Red Deer decided to agree with the lawyer who had called him. "I think there's a great deal of truth in what you just said."

  "Thank you," Talon huffed. "No further questions."

  "Any re-cross?" LeClair asked Brunelle.

  "No, Your Honor," Brunelle stood to answer.

  The judge turned to Red Deer. "You are excused. Then he turned to Talon. "Next witness, counsel."

  Talon looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 2:40. There was plenty of time to call another witness. Hell, there was time for a few witnesses.

  "May we excuse the jury for a moment?" she asked. "To discuss scheduling?"

  The judge made that perturbed face judges make when they have to go to the trouble of sending the jury out just to have a two-minute conversation with the lawyers. Then he made than resigned face judges make when they know they have to do it anyway.

  He turned to the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to excuse you to the jury room for a few minutes while the lawyers and I discuss scheduling. Thank you."

  The bailiff escorted them out and once the door to the jury room closed, Judge LeClair looked down at Talon. "What do we need to discuss?"

  "Your Honor, I apologize," Talon began. "But the next witness we intend to call is the defendant himself."

  Brunelle nodded. He'd expected as much based on the logical order of likely defense witnesses. He'd brought his materials for crossing Quilcene in case they got that far. Another reason to keep his earlier cross exams short.

  "However," Talon went on. "As the court may have heard, a dear friend of my client was shot the other night and is in I.C.U. at Tacoma General. We got word over the lunch hour that he might not survive the day and my client would very much like a chance to say goodbye before it's too late."

  Judge LeClair frowned at Talon, but didn't say anything.

  "My client is in no condition to testify right now, Your Honor," Talon claimed. Then, obviously to remind the judge of how much he respected her professionalism, she added, "I thought I should mention this outside the presence of the jury as it might unfairly invoke sympathy for my client."

  And give me the chance to mention their shared gang ties, Brunelle thought.

  "I'm certain," Talon concluded, "that Mr. Brunelle wouldn't mind the extra time to prepare his cross examination of my client."

  The judge looked at Brunelle.

  "I don't need extra time to prepare," he said. He looked at Talon, who offered the slightest eyebrow raise. Damn that pretty face. "But I won't object to adjourning early today. I can sincerely say that I hope Mr. Quilcene's friend pulls through."

  I just won't say why.

  LeClair frowned, but he said, "All right then. We'll adjourn for the day. Bailiff, inform the jury they are excused for the day, but instruct them to be here at eight-forty-five tomorrow morning. We will start promptly at nine o'clock with the direct examination of the defendant by Ms. Winter. Court is adjourned."

  The judge rose to leave and everyone in court honored the bailiff's call to "All rise!"

  After he'd left, Talon stepped over to Brunelle. "Thank you."

  Brunelle shrugged. "No problem. Like you said, more time to prepare. I'm going to kill him on the stand tomorrow."

  Talon winked. "Not if he kills you first."

  She laughed, but he didn't.

  "It was a joke," she assured.

  Brunelle looked at Quilcene, who could hear their every word.

  He wasn't laughing either.

  Chapter 45

  Brunelle walked out to the parking lot. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, the autumn sky was gray and dark, threatening one of those three-day Northwest rains that are never hard, but never let up.

  He took his phone out and checked for messages. He had four new texts.

  From Chen: knife theft WAS inside job. sort of. call me.

  Chen again: hernandez took turn for worse. still alive. barely. call me.

  And Chen again: youre welcome. call her.

  Then Kat: Larry said to call you. I said no. But I'll answer if you call me.

  Two clicks later and his phone was dialing Kat's number.

  "Hello?" she answered.

  God, he loved her voice.

  "Hey," he said. "It's me."

  "Yeah." A pause. "I can see that."

  Brunelle paused too. "Uh, thanks for answering."

  "Thank Larry," Kat replied. "He said you're not as big of a jerk as you seem sometimes."

  "Uh, thanks," Brunelle said, "I think."

  "So, I didn't expect you to call so early. You on a break or something?"

  "We adjourned early for the day," Brunelle explained. "Gang-banger defendant wanted to go see his gang-banger best friend in the hospital before he dies from being shot because he's a gang-banger."

  "Wow. Nice description. Very sensitive."

  "Yeah, well, I hear I'm not as big of a jerk as I seem sometimes."

  Kat laughed.

  God, he loved her laugh.

  "So," she asked, "you staying down there again tonight?"

  "Yeah, might as well. The defendant takes the stand first thing tomorrow morning." He paused. "What are
you doing tonight?"

  "Well, I was thinking," she said. He thought he heard that purr she had sometimes, hiding just beneath the surface of her words. "I might take Lizzy's to her grandma's in Auburn to spend the night. There's no school tomorrow. It's a teacher planning day. And she hasn't seen my mom for a while."

  "Hm. Good idea," Brunelle replied. "You know, Auburn's pretty close to Tacoma."

  "Mm-hmm," she said. The purr was there, no doubt.

  "And I found this great restaurant down here," Brunelle went on.

  Kat laughed. "You liar. I know better. You've been eating take-out pizza from the casino."

  Brunelle had to laugh too. "How do you know me so well already?"

  "I'll pick you up at six," she said. "I actually do know some great restaurants down there."

  Brunelle smiled. His biggest smile since he saw her at Donatello's. "Sounds great. I'll wait in front of the hotel. With bells on."

  "Ooh," she purred again. "I would like to see that."

  "And nothing else," he joked.

  "Slow down, David. You don't want to get yourself arrested. Again."

  "Ouch," he said. "See you at six, Kat."

  "See you then, David."

  ~*~

  Dinner was pleasant. Just plain nice. No arguing. No suspicions. Just small talk and some of the best Vietnamese food Brunelle had ever eaten. By the time they got back to his hotel room, it was after nine o'clock.

  Brunelle pushed the door open for Kat to walk in first. She did and nodded approvingly as she made her way toward the balcony in the back.

  "Nice digs, David. I'd compliment you on how tidy everything is, but I know that's the maid."

  "Yeah, it's pretty nice," he said as he slipped the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door handle and closed the door. "And I'll have you know, I am quite tidy. The maid helps, but my place up in Seattle is just as clean and orderly."

  Kat was admiring the view through the gauzy curtain. "I'll have to take your word for it. I've never been to your place."

  Brunelle stepped in behind her. Too close. Just right. "We'll have to do something about that."

  Kat turned around, right into Brunelle's arms. She raised her face, closed her eyes, and they kissed.