Death of a Rancher's Daughter

by Susan P. Baker

  “You go on back into the courtroom and sit near Rufina.” Erma prodded Mel and straightened the peplum on her jacket. When Mel had gone inside, Erma said, “What are you talking about?” She attempted to walk around him and into the courtroom. She didn't want a verbal scuffle with the district attorney.

  “Her histrionics aren't going to get you that continuance.” He had one hand in his pants pocket, jingling his change. The other gripped his hip.

  Erma pivoted and walked up to Holt, jabbing her forefinger at his chest. He might be a head taller, but she wasn't going to let him bully her. “I don't know what you may have heard about us, if anything, but understand this, mister. My daughter would never engage in histrionics for a continuance.” Her face and hands had grown warm.

  “Not going to work.” He smirked. “Not going to work.”

  He sounded like a little boy in a schoolyard. She glared up at him. “This is no trick. It's real. I have a history of heart problems. I only hope she didn't inherit heart trouble from me.”

  A tall, muscular, fair-haired man, with a sheaf of papers in one hand, charged up the staircase. Dressed in a dark brown suit with a bolo tie at the neck and shiny black leather boots, he sprinted around them to the courtroom door and flung it open. Sticking his head in, he called out, “Ricardo, where's Ms. Salinsky?”

  Erma couldn't hear the bailiff's reply. Who was that man, and what did he want? He let the door fall shut and started for the clerk's office. “I'm her mother. You're looking for Sandra? I'm her mother.”

  The man stopped. He towered over her as much as Holt did, not an unusual occurrence. “You're Mrs. Townley?” He shook her hand. “I'm Jared Longley. Did something happen to Sandra? They said downstairs in the tax office that a woman lawyer collapsed in the courtroom.”

  “She didn't exactly collapse,” Erma said. So he was the man whose law office Sandra had been using as a home base? Not bad.

  Holt snorted. Erma shot him a look that, had it been a bullet, would have killed him.

  “Well, where is she?” Jared shifted from foot-to-foot like he was about to start a race.

  “The EMTs took her to the hospital to have her checked out. At least that's what I understood.”

  “EMTs?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then it must be serious.”

  Erma rested her hand on his forearm. “I only hope it wasn't a heart attack. I had one about a year or so ago. I'm hoping whatever ails her will go away.”

  Holt snickered and took a step back.

  “Shut the fuck up, Mr. Holt.” Erma's face radiated heat. “I don't appreciate your insinuation.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Holt said. “You're an officer of the court. You can't—”

  Erma ignored him, giving her full attention to Mr. Longley, who, though his eyebrows were raised, didn't get involved in the exchange.

  Jared said, “Mrs. Townley, I'm going to the hospital. You want to ride along?” He held his hand out like he'd take her arm and escort an old woman down the stairs.

  She shook her head. “Can't. My granddaughter is still in the courtroom. And Rufina, our client.”

  “Of course. I know about Rufina,” he said. “I guess you can't leave if the trial's started.”

  Erma expected Holt to make some smart-ass remark, but he kept quiet. She turned her attention back to Jared Longley. “Yes, well, I have business to take up with the judge. Would you do me the kindness of calling me if you can find out how she is? As soon as I get free, I'll drive over there with my granddaughter.” She handed him a card out of her pocket.

  “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Townley. Nice meeting you.” He nodded and took the stairs down two at a time.

  “Mrs. Townley?” Holt held his chin high. There was a tightness around his eyes. “Are you ready to go see the judge?”

  Erma had a bad feeling about his desire to get right back in front of the judge, but it couldn't be helped. She had no prepared motions—no written motions—but she'd been practicing law over thirty years. If she couldn't wing an argument for a mistrial at this stage of the game, she had no business practicing law.

  Holt held the courtroom door open and waved his hand. Erma walked inside and found Mel, leaning against the wall, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. The girl had probably heard everything that'd been said. Erma slipped her arm around Mel's waist and walked with her toward the benches. Rufina stared from where she sat at the end of the counsel table. “It'll be fine,” Erma mouthed. Rufina's ruddy complexion was several shades lighter. She clasped her hands in front of her.

  “Ricardo, would you tell the judge we're ready?” Holt asked.

  They took their places, Erma standing at the chair Sandra had occupied. As she thought about what she would argue to the judge, her mouth dried up like an old peach pit. The cup of water the court reporter had brought for Sandra sat on the wooden parapet that surrounded the jury box.

  “Matthew, would you mind?” Erma asked, indicating the cup.

  The court reporter brought it to her, and Erma slurped it down, setting the cup on the counsel table. The judge returned before the bailiff had a chance to ask everyone to rise. The few people who were there were already standing, including BJ, who had just come in.

  Judge Danforth, a red file under one arm, entered, his black robe billowing. As soon as he seated himself, his eyes went to Erma. “Mrs. Townley, how is Mrs. Salinsky?” His eyes darted to Mr. Holt's face and back to Erma's.

  “Ahem. We'll find out in a little while, Judge. They took her to the hospital. And I want to talk to you about that—what I wish to make a motion about. I'm sure Mr. Holt would agree that being as how my daughter—Sandra—Ms. Salinsky had some kind of attack right here in the courtroom in front of you, the jury, and God, and everybody, I'm sure he wouldn't want this jury to be biased in favor of the defense on account of the physical ailment of the defense attorney. So I want to say, the facts being what they are and all, I'll be glad to join in a Motion for a Mistrial.”

  Holt's mouth gaped open.

  The judge practically threw himself backward in his chair and made every attempt to hide a grin. “What do you have to say, Mr. Holt? Are you ready to move for a mistrial?”

  Holt shut his mouth, swallowed, and opened it again. “Your Honor, not only is the State not moving for a mistrial, the State is ready to proceed.”

  Erma feigned the most surprise she could muster. The son of a bitch wasn't going to give their side an inch, not a centimeter. She rested her hand on her chest. “Why, Your Honor, it's gratifying to see Mr. Holt has so much faith in the citizens of Gillespie County. In that case, may I ask Your Honor whether if I move for a mistrial without his joinder, whether Your Honor would entertain such a motion?”

  The judge, still looking amused, cocked his head. “You may certainly move for a mistrial, Mrs. Townley, but I can tell you the court is not inclined to grant it.”

  “Uh huh. I understand, but I must move for a mistrial to protect my client's rights.”

  “Denied.”

  “Judge, technically I haven't made the motion you just denied.” Erma had been in enough courtrooms to know the judge's look said make it and move on. She cleared her throat. “Your Honor, in light of the first chair in this jury trial coming down with some kind of ailment that appeared to be a heart attack in front of the jury, the defense hereby moves for a mistrial.”

  “Denied. If you want to file something handwritten for the record, I'll sign it later.”

  “Yes, Judge. Now, here's the thing. I would like to go to the hospital to see what's going on with my daughter.”

  “I can understand that.” The judge nodded.

  “If in fact she's had some kind of serious attack, I would like to be by her side. As would her daughter, who is sitting behind me.”

  “I can understand that, as well.” Judge Danforth wrote something.

  “Judge,” Mr. Holt said, “we're in some kind of dilemma here. While I'm not willing to move for a mistrial, I was looking for
ward to trying this case against Mrs. Salinsky, not Mrs. Townley.”

  Erma rested her knuckles on the table in front of her. If Sandra could hear the two men tossing around Mrs. when they referenced her, she'd have a cow. Now, what was Holt up to?

  “Are you saying you're in agreement with the earlier Motion for Continuance?” the judge asked.

  “No. I'm not saying that at all, Judge. I want to go forward with this case. The defendant needs to be locked up before she has a chance to harm someone else.”

  “What?” Erma cried. “Are you seriously asking that my client's bail be revoked because the first chair defense lawyer was taken to the hospital?”

  Judge Danforth appeared as confused as Erma felt. “Here's the deal, Judge.” She glanced at Rufina. Rufina was all crossed arms and legs, wrapped up in herself. “If you can give us the afternoon, a continuance for the afternoon, so we can do a couple of things, we can be ready to go forward with this trial in the morning.”

  “Who is we, Judge?” Holt asked, his hands in his pockets, his legs spread.

  Erma pointed back at Mel. “This young lady is our part-time legal assistant, Your Honor. While she can't second-chair this case—she doesn't have a law license—”

  “Law license?” Holt stamped his foot. “That little girl doesn't have a high school diploma. What does Mrs. Townley mean she's a legal assistant?”

  “I only mean I want her to sit up here at counsel table with me, Judge. I need someone to help me, and Mel has been around for the whole of this case and works half a day in our office and knows a little about organization.”

  “I don't know what she's up to, Judge, but what I was trying to say is I don't want to try this case against Mrs. Townley. I'm ready to make another offer to Mrs. Barboza and if she'll accept it, we can all go home. Otherwise, I'm not sure how to proceed.”

  Erma felt like she had her head in a cloud—a dark, stormy cloud, swirling around with strong winds. Another offer? Yeah, right.

  Judge Danforth said, “Step over to defense table and make your offer, Mr. Holt. And Mrs. Townley I strongly advise you to urge your client to take it.”

  Holt glanced twice at the judge in quick succession. The muscles in his jaws flexed as he stood for a moment studying the floor.

  Rufina was still wrapped up in a ball and wouldn't meet her eyes. Holt stepped across the aisle and tugged on Erma's arm. He pulled her away from the counsel table to the bar on his side of the courtroom where Mel and BJ couldn't hear what was being said. “Here's the deal, take your choice,” he said. There was no evidence of a smile, no glint in his eye. He was as somber as a corpse. “Number one, she pleads guilty to murder and goes to the jury for punishment. Number two, she pleads guilty and takes fifty years.”

  Erma's stomach lurched. He had to be kidding. What kind of offers were those? He was out of his fucking mind, and if they hadn't been inside the courtroom, she would have told him so. She straightened up and asked the judge, “May I have a short recess, so I can discuss these offers with my client?”

  Judge Danforth's mouth was fixed in a grim line. “The jury is going to be tired of waiting. Five minutes.” The judge stepped off the bench.

  Erma refrained from making a sarcastic comment even under her breath where Holt could hear her. Holt exited the courtroom, leaving her with Rufina. “I don't know about you, Rufina, but I have to pee.”

  Rufina unwrapped herself. “What did he say?”

  “Two ridiculous offers.”

  “What were they?” BJ asked, causing Erma to flinch. She'd forgotten BJ was in the courtroom.

  “Do you mind if BJ hears this, Rufina?”

  Rufina walked to where BJ was behind the bar. The four women let out a collective sigh. “No, I don't mind. I don't understand what Mr. Holt's problem is, but I don't mind talking about it with BJ here.”

  Mel stepped closer to the other women. The bailiff had left the courtroom, so they were alone. Erma pulled them even closer. “Fifty years or go to the jury on punishment.”

  Rufina shook her head. “Que demonios?”

  “Crazy, right? I wouldn't even let you take a better offer,” Erma said. “Not when there's still hope. We haven't seen their case yet.”

  “Well let's hurry down to the bathroom,” BJ said.

  “I'm going to press for at least this afternoon off even if he won't give us several days.” Erma touched Bj's arm. “BJ, you originally called for me to represent Rufina. I guess you're going to get your wish.”

  Rufina said, “That's okay with me. I only hope my case is not what caused Sandra to have a heart attack.”

  “Don't start feeling guilty over it. We don't even know it was a heart attack. Come on. We'd better hurry.” They walked out of the courtroom together. BJ had her arm around Rufina. Mel held her cell phone in her hand and tapped something into it.

  When they returned, the players were all in position. The judge was on the bench, and Holt stood at his table. The bailiff stood in front of the door leading to the jury room, and the court reporter sat behind his stenotype machine as though ready to take down Rufina's plea. At least that's what it looked like to Erma.

  “You're late,” the judge said, as the women walked up the aisle.

  Erma said, “Sorry, Your Honor, we needed to use the necessary room. Since we didn't know if the jury was milling about, we had to go downstairs.”

  “What—ever,” the judge said. “What did you decide?”

  The four women took their places, BJ sitting next to Mel.

  Rufina sat up at the table with a confident demeanor instead of all wrapped up like she was a babe in swaddling clothes. She nodded at Erma.

  “Your Honor, for the record, Mr. Holt offered a plea of guilty and fifty years or a plea of guilty and my client would go to the jury on punishment. Mrs. Rufina Barboza rejects both of the offers of the District Attorney.”

  The judge let out a huff of air. “Is that correct, Mrs. Barboza?”

  Rufina stood. “Yes, that is correct, Judge.” Her eyes were on the court reporter as she said it. The court reporter was writing. Rufina sat back down.

  “I'm only assigned to this court for two weeks, and we're in the second week. Enough of this nonsense. Bring the jury in, Deputy Cortez.” The judge addressed Mr. Holt. “Call your first witness.”

  “But Judge,” Erma said, her heart thumping. She didn't know how to express her surprise and disgust at the way they were being treated. The bailiff stopped in the doorway. Holt stood still. Erma flexed her fingers as she stood there, not wanting to be seen with clenched fists. “We'd like a continuance until tomorrow, so we can go to the hospital, and, also, you haven't said if Mel can assist me.”

  “Motion for Continuance denied. She can assist you. Bailiff, bring the jury in. And Mr. Holt, I hope you have a witness in the hall. We need to put some testimony on the record today.” The judge pushed off from the bench, his chair bumping the wall behind him, and crossed his arms, daring either attorney to make one more argument.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “The state calls Deputy Oskar Bumgarner.” Holt sat down and picked up his pen. He murmured something to the young assistant next to him.

  The bailiff opened the side door and called, “Oskar Bumgarner.” Erma peered over her shoulder as a bulky, middle-aged, white man in a tan regulation sheriff's uniform entered the courtroom behind the bailiff. He approached the witness stand and raised his right hand. The judge swore him in, and the man took a seat. Rufina was grim-faced. Mel wrote something on a yellow legal pad. BJ had left the courtroom as soon as the judge denied the motion.

  “State your name for the record.” Holt proceeded to establish Bumgarner as an employee of the Gillespie County Sheriff's Department. He'd worked as a deputy for nine years. Lived in the county. First on the scene at BJ's house on the night of the shooting. “Now, Deputy Bumgarner, approximately what time did you arrive at the premises of Mrs. Schindler?”

  “Approximately 12:30 a.m., sir.” The de
puty rested his arms on the counter, his mouth too close to the microphone, his voice reverberating.

  “What did you observe when you arrived?”

  “Well, sir, several cars and trucks were parked out front.” He peeked at the jury. “One man stood outside the front door. It was cold, being December and all. The rest of the people was inside the house.”

  “The rest of the people being who?”

  “Mrs. Billie Jo Schindler and her daughter. Kathy Lynn is her name. I'd met Mrs. Schindler before but not her daughters.”

  “Where was her son, Rex?”

  “Yeah, well, Rex was the man standing outside waiting for me to arrive.”

  “Who else was present at that time?”

  “A Douglas Christian.” Bumgarner rocked back and forth in the witness chair. “He was the boyfriend of one of the twins. I recognized him right away from when he used to play football.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Yes, the defendant.”

  “By defendant, are you referring to Rufina Barboza?”

  “Yes, sir.” He pointed at Rufina. “She's sitting at the end of the table.”

  Holt looked where the deputy pointed, like he didn't realize Rufina sat there. “For the record, would you describe an item of clothing she's wearing?”

  “Sure. Long brown skirt and matching jacket.”

  “Did you know Mrs. Barboza at the time of the event in question?”

  “No, sir. Never had met her before, though I'd heard of her.”

  Erma didn't know what he'd allegedly heard, and she wasn't going to ask. She'd let the testimony develop, wait for the moment when Holt tried to pull something. He probably wanted her to ask the deputy what he'd heard, but Holt would have to ask that question because no way Erma would fall into that trap.

  “So what happened when you arrived, Deputy?” Oozing confidence, Holt sat back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him.

  “Rex, he came up to the car as soon as I got out and said someone had killed his sister.”