by Ray Gorham
“Mr. Tait,” he began. “You’re here today to answer a charge of murder. Would you relate to the court and the jury what your criminal history looks like.”
Kyle smiled and looked the jurors in the eye. His hair was combed, his beard neatly trimmed, and he wore his newest jeans and the one dress shirt and tie that he owned, delivered to him at the militia house by Jennifer. The storm and the accompanying ruckus let up just as he began his testimony. “Yes, Mr. Kelly. I don’t have much of a criminal record. I’ve had a couple of speeding ticket and one for a late registration, but that’s it.”
“Anything from your childhood?”
Kyle blushed a little. “Ah… my friends and I…”
Boyd looked slightly panicked.
Kyle continued. “We got caught stealing a case of beer from the grocery store. I was a senior in high school, so seventeen years old. My mom told the police to teach me a lesson, so I spent a night in jail and was sentenced to fifty hours of community service. That’s the only blemish from my high school days.”
His attorney let out a relieved breath. “Anything more serious than that?”
Kyle shook his head. “Nothing.”
“What about the event that was alluded to yesterday, where it was alleged that you confessed to killing someone?”
“That was a terrible thing.” Kyle looked right at the jurors, like Boyd had instructed him. “Yes, I killed a man. I still have nightmares about it. I was in a situation where it was kill or be killed, and I didn’t want to die out on the road, away from my family.” He stood up and removed his shirt and tie and held up his arm where the scar from the bullet wound was still clearly visible. “I tried to do everything possible to avoid it. This is where I got shot before I killed the guy. I was forced to take his life, or else I wouldn’t be here today.” He put his shirt back on before sharing, in detail, what had happened on the road in Colorado.
Boyd paused when Kyle finished, giving the jurors a chance to think about what they might have done in the same situation, then cleared his throat before asking the next question. “The young girl who was killed, Leah, had you ever seen her before?”
“Not on the night in question.”
Boyd looked surprised. “Had you seen her before that?”
“Yes,” Kyle confirmed. “About a week before she died. I was on patrol and saw someone on horseback coming towards me. I waited behind a tree until she was almost to me, then I confronted her.”
“Anything unusual happen.”
“No. I surprised her a bit, but she told me where she was going. I just told her to be careful and not be out so late. It wasn’t a big deal, just unusual because people aren’t out at night much.”
“Did you attack her?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Did you hurt her?”
Kyle shook his head. “Not in any way. If I had done anything to her, I’m sure she would have told someone, but nothing happened.”
“Why do you think she was found in your house?”
“I don’t know why she was left there, other than the fact that it’s empty. Maybe with the house’s history whoever killed her might have thought people would avoid it. I just don’t know.”
“Did you put the body down there?”
“No. I didn’t kill her, and no, I didn’t put the body down there. I had nothing to do with it. Besides, why hide the body in a room with a window. Someone who knew the house would have concealed her better.”
“The night Leah went missing, did you see or hear anything?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, there are always a few noises—you’ll hear dogs, and owls, the river, stuff like that, but screams, or fights, or something to indicate a problem? Nothing like that.”
“Did you fall asleep during your shift?”
“No. After the gunfight that happened a couple of weeks ago, I don’t think anyone could sleep on duty. I went back to the militia house to warm up a couple of times, for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, but other than that I was out there the whole night.”
“Why did Mr. Lee testify that he saw you by your house on the night of the murder?”
“It was about halfway through my shift when I noticed the front door of my house was open, so I closed it. I had gathered some stuff from there the day before, so when I saw the door open I just figured I hadn’t closed it tight. I closed and locked the door, then stopped to relieve myself by a bush. I was coming from the front of the house when Steven saw me. That’s it.”
“Do you notice many doors open at night?”
“Not really. It’s pretty dark out there at night, but I’m familiar with my own house and noticed the door cracked open.”
“Why didn’t you tell Sean about it when he talked to you the next day?”
“Because I didn’t think we were looking for a body. I was sure she was lost, and I didn’t think she’d be lost in my basement.”
Boyd asked a few more basic questions, then it was Helen’s turn for questioning. She stood, a smile on her face, and turned to Kyle. “Kyle, how hard is it to kill a person?”
Kyle swallowed hard before looking at the jury. “It is the hardest thing you can imagine doing, but when your life is threatened, like mine was, you do what you have to do. You never forget about it though.”
“So, say someone was going to report to your wife, or Mr. Reider, that you raped them or coerced them into having sex. That would threaten your life, or at least threaten your life the way you know it, right?”
“I’m not answering that. I know what you’re trying to do. That didn’t happen.”
“Okay, fine. I understand. Let me rephrase it for you. You took off your shirt and dramatically told the jury how you killed a man because he was going to keep you from getting back to your family. What would have happened to your family if your wife found out you made it with some twenty-year-old, let alone that you forced her to have sex with you? Would that have threatened your family’s happily-ever-after?”
Kyle stared ahead, refusing to answer. Helen waited, putting on a show for the jury with her patience, but Kyle stayed silent. “Fine, Mr. Tait. I understand you don’t want to address that question. Let me move one. You said you met the victim about a week prior to her death, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Nothing happened at that time, right?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Was she cute?”
“Pardon me?”
“Was Leah cute? You’ve got a twenty-year-old girl walking around by herself late at night. Did you think she was cute?”
“I wasn’t thinking about that. I just wanted to know what she was doing. Besides, everyone is all bundled up at night. You can hardly even see what people look like.”
“So you’d just met this woman, 5’3”, about a hundred pounds, cute face, sneaking home late at night from her boyfriend’s house. What did you think about the rest of the evening?”
“Just work stuff—glad that I hadn’t shot her as an intruder, hoping that someone wasn’t going to jump out of the shadows and kill me, or someone else I work with, or do something to my family. That’s what I think about. What do you think about late at night when you’re on patrol, protecting your town?”
“My,” Helen said, a smirk on her face, ignoring Kyle’s query. “You are quite the man. You must have amazing control to spend hours alone every night with no one to talk to except an occasional wandering twenty-year-old woman, and think of nothing but work. No conjecturing what she had just been doing, or what she looked like with her bulky clothing off. No hoping you might run into her again some night. No thoughts at all about her. Simply amazing. Wish my ex-husband was that disciplined.”
Helen strode over to her table and sat on the edge of it. She lowered her voice from mildly shouting over the weakening storm outside to a more conversational tone. “You think about hiding bodies often?”
“No.”
“I was just curious, because in
your earlier testimony you said that there were better places to conceal a body. I’d like to know how often you actually think about concealing dead people.”
“That’s not something I normally think about. It wasn’t until after all this that a thought like that even crossed my mind.”
“So it’s safe to say that prior to the morning of January 19th you hadn’t thought about the best place to hide a dead person in your basement. Is that correct?”
Kyle paused, not sure how to respond, knowing how she was turning his answers against him. The jury shifted in their seats, watching and waiting intently for his answer.
“I never planned out where to hide a body. That’s not something I’ve ever needed to do.”
“Why?” Helen responded, almost at the top of her lungs. “Because the people you kill, you just leave them to rot in the middle of the road? Is that it?”
Kyle didn’t respond.
Helen continued after an extended pause. “So, we can take it from your testimony that before the night of January 18th you had never given thought to where to put a dead body. The fact that Leah is found in a less than ideal location in your basement,” she said, putting heavy emphasis on the word ‘your,’ “shouldn’t surprise us at all. Should it?”
Kyle rubbed his face. He was finding it hard to breath. “I didn’t do it. I know this all looks bad, but it wasn’t me.”
“Yes, I’ve heard you say that numerous times, Kyle, just like all the defendants I’ve put in jail in the past. They deny it all, too. If we only locked up the ones who admitted guilt, we wouldn’t have a need for very many jails. It’s my job to help the jury see past your denial. Leah died the night you were on shift, her body is found in the basement of your house, and the searchers had to break in your door to get to her, even though there was no sign of forced entry prior to that. Do you just leave your home unlocked all the time? So people can help themselves to whatever?”
Kyle looked at the jury and then at his interrogator, his voice shaking as he answered. “Listen, I’ve been moving stuff from our old house to where we’re living now. My wife said we weren’t going back, so I had collected everything that was useful. I don’t usually lock the doors, because there’s not much there anymore.”
Helen rose from the table and took a couple of steps towards Kyle. She shook her head slowly from side to side. “I have no further questions.”
CHAPTER 19
Wednesday, January 25th
Deer Creek, MT
At the end of the sixty-minute lunch break, Kyle huddled with his attorney as the crowd filed back into court. Because the jurors were unable to leave, other than to go to the bathroom, lunch had been brought to them and they had eaten in the courtroom. They looked nervous and uncomfortable and avoided eye contact with Kyle while chatting amongst themselves. The weather outside had turned sunny, but there was still a steady drone inside as the spectators discussed the case.
Boyd had initially planned to call Dale Briggs’ mother as a witness, but had found her to be depressed and uncooperative in an earlier visit, and then she hadn’t shown up for the trial at all. That left Sean Reider, who had testified previously, and Jennifer as his only remaining witnesses.
What had started out as a bad dream for Kyle had quickly devolved into a terrifying nightmare that he was anxious to awake from. The prosecutor was doing her job too well, catching every little word and twisting it to her advantage. Kyle understood that that was her objective, but being in her gun-sights terrified him. The night before, one of the guards had reminded him that execution was the punishment if he was found guilty. At first, knowing he was innocent, the thought had only mildly worried him, but with the direction the trial was going, and the possibility of a guilty verdict growing, that same thought made him absolutely sick to his stomach.
Kyle saw Gabe and Don coming down the center aisle, and the buzz in the room quieted. There was no formality of a government court, but the people in attendance were just naturally respectful, and grateful that they hadn’t been needed to fill any of the difficult roles in this drama.
Don resumed the session, and Sean Reider was put back on the stand. Boyd asked Sean questions about procedures and militia responsibility, which he answered effectively. Then Helen countered, forcing Sean to admit that there was next to no record keeping, that the militia’s efforts were focused on defense, not policing, and that the majority of what any individual militia member did was based on their own discretion and not on formal protocol.
Next, Jennifer was called to the stand, and Kyle was so nervous he couldn’t look her in the eye. He knew what she was going through and he had to fight to control his emotions. He watched as his wife raised her shaking right hand and was sworn in, her voice sounding stronger than he expected. He forced himself to make eye contact, and she smiled.
Boyd walked towards Jennifer, stopping halfway between the defense table and the witness. “Mrs. Tait. Thank you for being here today.”
Jennifer nodded and smiled. Kyle could see her legs bouncing nervously.
Boyd continued. “I know this must be difficult for you, but you know Kyle better than anyone, and you saw him in the hours before and after his shift on the day this terrible tragedy occurred.”
Jennifer’s back was straight, and she watched Boyd with a warm confidence. “I think it’s important for me to be here today. I want justice to be served.”
“How long have you known Kyle?”
She beamed at the crowd. “It’s been eighteen wonderful years.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Sixteen years, five months.”
Boyd laughed a little, then continued. “In all the time you’ve know Kyle, has he ever hit you?”
She shook her head vigorously. “Never. We’ve had our disagreements, and he’s gotten mad at me before, but he’s never even threatened to strike me.”
“Has he ever hit your children?”
“They’ve had a few spankings, but that’s it. Just a couple of swats on their backsides, to get their attention.”
“Any legal issues he’s had to deal with?”
“None that I knew of. The situation with the beer in high school was news to me. I’m going to remember that one for a while and use it to my advantage.” A couple of the jurors laughed along with Jennifer.
“Has Kyle ever done anything that would make you think he had the capacity to commit the crime he’s accused of?”
“Nothing at all. I’m 100% sure he would never do anything like that.”
“When he came home last Thursday morning was there anything out of the ordinary about his behavior? Was he acting strangely?”
She thought a second, then shook her head. “It was a normal morning. He was tired, he had a little something to eat, then he went to bed. It was just like most mornings.”
“Did he act nervous? Frightened?”
“No.”
“Did he ask to get up early, so he could go hide evidence?”
“No.”
“Any injuries?”
“No.”
“Did he act sore or uncomfortable?”
“He said his toes were cold because the temperatures were pretty low that night, but that’s it.”
“How did he act when he found out Leah’s body had been found?”
“He was completely shocked, especially when we were told the body was found in our home. I could tell it caught him completely off guard.”
Boyd continued questioning Jennifer for twenty more minutes before concluding and turning her over to Helen. Jennifer smiled confidently. Her testimony appeared to resonate with the jurors. Kyle felt a huge weight lifting from his shoulders.
Helen clasped her hands in front of her and smiled at Jennifer. “I can tell you really love your husband.”
“I do, very much.”
“Couples so much in love are a dying breed. Anything you wouldn’t do for your husband?”
“No. I’d do…” Jennifer paus
ed. “I love him very much. Everything I’ve said has been the truth. I wouldn’t sell my soul for him, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
Helen stepped casually towards the jurors. “I understand you’ve suffered some pretty traumatic things over the past few months.”
Jennifer studied Helen closely and thought about her response. “Yes. I think we all have. I don’t know that I’m that different from anyone else.”
“Oh, come now, Jennifer. I think it’s been pretty rough for you, even by current standards. Your husband gone, your attempted rape, and that unfortunate situation where you had to kill a man. Now Kyle accused of this terrible crime. I don’t know anyone who comes close to your struggles.”
Jennifer nodded. She looked at Helen intently but remained silent.
“Rape is a pretty intense experience. I’ve worked with a number of assault victims and know that it can take a long time to recover from the trauma.”
“It does. It’s been more difficult than I would have hoped, but having Kyle home has helped tremendously.” Jennifer glanced at Kyle, whose eyes were locked on her, and she smiled at him just a little. It spoke volumes to him.
Kyle mouthed, “I love you,” to his wife, and she turned away, feeling the tears building in her eyes.
Helen paused for a second, then pressed on. “This is a personal question, and I’m sorry I have to ask it, but when was the last time you had sex with your husband?”
Jennifer paused. “I beg your pardon?”
The prosecutor cleared her throat. Every person in the courtroom got quiet, the room so silent that you could have heard a snow flake land on the roof. “I asked when you last had sex with your husband. Sometimes it can take months, or even years, for rape victims to be comfortable with intimacy again. It’s a terrible crime. Much more than physical scarring takes place, as you no doubt know. In your case, it would be even worse, with your daughter there and your son nearly being killed.”
Jennifer’s mind spun; she looked at Kyle, panicked.