Erma frowned at Rufina. “We all thought she'd have more time.”
“If they’re fourteen hours away in San Miguel, they could make it to the border in one day,” Rufina said.
“They probably would spend the night somewhere,” Sandra said. “She didn't know—we didn't know—we'd need him so soon. Figuring one day to the border and across it, and a second day to drive up to Fredericksburg...we can't count on them making it.”
“So what alternatives are there?” Erma had been picking at her cuticles, a bad habit Sandra hadn't seen her engage in for a long time.
“If Rex doesn't show in the next few minutes and Holt comes in and rests the State's case, we'll have to call a witness or rest our case.” Sandra waited for a reaction from Rufina.
“I know how it works, Sandra.” Rufina's voice was barely audible. Her hands went to her mouth.
“I know you do. I'm thinking out loud, that's all.” She patted Rufina's arm.
Rufina's lips were pressed together so tightly they turned pale pink.
“There's still Kathy Lynn,” Erma said.
“The mysterious Kathy Lynn who has acted like she's afraid of us,” Sandra said.
“I could testify,” Rufina said. “I want to.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“If we put you on and your testimony doesn't last long enough for BJ and Efrain to arrive, we'll have to rest—unless Kathy Lynn makes a surprise appearance.”
Erma said, “But if we call Rufina to the stand, we'll open the door to Holt putting on rebuttal witnesses. Rex might show up by that time. God only knows what that little bastard would say.”
“Of course the judge is supposed to restrict rebuttal to evidence that rebuts our case,” Sandra said.
“Like that would happen.” Erma began pacing, too. “I don't think the judge thinks the rules apply to him—or Samuel Holt. He might let Holt ask Rex anything he wants.”
Sandra's esophagus burned with a repeat of breakfast. She had hardly tasted the food the first time and didn't want to taste it a second.
“But,” Sandra said, “if Rex's testimony takes long enough, BJ and Efrain might show up by the time we reach re-rebuttal. And Kathy Lynn could still come. Speaking of which, Mel, I'll give you her cell number, and you can call her. She won't recognize it. Maybe she'll pick up.”
“Yeah, okay.” Mel grinned like she was happy to have a role to play.
Erma stopped in front of Sandra. “One, would BJ and Efrain's testimony be enough to overcome whatever damage Rex's testimony does? Two, what do we do if the judge restricts our re-rebuttal even if he doesn't restrict Holt's rebuttal?”
“Appeal.”
“Appeal?” The pitch of Rufina's voice was as high as the ceiling.
Sandra clasped Rufina's arm again. “I hope it won't come to that. Anyway, this is only one scenario. We have to weigh all the possibilities. If you testify, Rufina, and the jury doesn't like you for some reason, we'll have a real problem.”
Mel put her arm around Rufina. “Why wouldn't they like her? She's so nice.”
Rufina smiled up at her. “You're so sweet, mi amiguita.”
Sandra stood at the window, the scene outside benign. A small town with blooming trees and flowers. Fluffy clouds overhead turned voluminous and dark in the distance. Inside, a hostile environment. An impatient judge. A testy prosecutor. A jury with who-knows-what on their minds. The question for her, the defense attorney, boiled down to whether or not she should put Rufina on the witness stand, something she'd been debating almost from the time she took the case. Although it was true all she needed was one juror to hang up the jury, could she risk all twelve of them not liking Rufina or not believing her testimony?
Holt was itching to cross-examine Rufina. Sandra had been a prosecutor long enough to know what was going through his mind. If she were him, she'd be dying for Rufina to take the stand, too. In spite of Rufina's years of working in the District Clerk's Office, being around trials and seeing what attorneys did to witnesses, Rufina would never hold up. She was too sweet, too passive. Holt would make mincemeat out of her. Could they risk his twisting her words around until she was so confused she'd be tricked into agreeing with some premise Holt put out there and realize too late what she'd said?
“So it comes down to: do we think Holt has put on enough evidence to convict Rufina?” Sandra folded her hands like she was going to pray and held them in front of her mouth.
“No,” Rufina said. “It's whether the jury thinks there's enough evidence to convict me.”
Back in their chairs, except for Mel who had gone to call Kathy Lynn, again, they all stood when the judge entered. The jurors filed in, as quiet as actors in a slow-motion silent film. Thunder from the north grew louder, nearer. Once the jurors were seated, the judge said, “Mr. Holt, call your next witness.”
All eyes turned to the door to the courtroom. Holt shook his head and said, “State rests, Your Honor.”
Sandra's stomach turned over. “Judge, defense has a motion to file with the court.” Sandra pulled a prepared motion from the stack of papers on the defense table.
The judge held out his hand. Sandra gave the judge the original and a copy to Holt, before picking up a copy for herself.
“Bailiff, escort the jurors from the courtroom.” The judge wore a deadpan face.
The jurors rose, some of them muttering. They filed out. The deputy closed the door, standing in front of it with his arms crossed.
“Motion for Directed Verdict of Acquittal,” the judge read. “You may proceed, Miss Salinsky.”
Sandra noticed the Miss before her name. She launched into her argument that the judge must grant her motion since no reasonable jury could reach a verdict of guilty. All nervousness had left her for the moment. Rarely did a judge grant such a motion, but every defense attorney had to file and argue one.
When she was through, Holt stood. “May I, Your Honor?”
“There's no need, Mr. Holt. The motion’s overruled.” He inclined his head at the bailiff and started to speak.
“Your Honor, the defense has another motion.” Sandra felt a little weak-kneed as she picked up the next motion.
“What is it now?” Annoyance was written across his face.
“Motion for Continuance.” Sandra handed the papers to the judge.
Holt stood so fast the wheels in his chair spun. “I object.”
On her way back to the defense table, Sandra handed a copy to Holt. “Judge Danforth, if Mr. Holt's presentation of his case had been better organized, this wouldn't be necessary.”
“I really object to that,” Holt said.
The judge glanced at the motion. “What are your grounds for a continuance, counsel?”
“Judge, we were expecting the prosecutor to call more witnesses from his witness list. We thought his case would last at least another day.”
“Your Honor,” Holt said, “this is ridiculous. She must not have prepared very well if she has to use that tired old excuse. She should have been ready to proceed whenever the State finished its case.”
The judge's eyes could have cut Holt to ribbons. “Once again, Mr. Holt, you're trying to usurp my role in this courtroom. I will do the lecturing and the chastising around here, not you.”
Holt clenched his teeth and didn't say anything.
“Now, Miss Salinsky, how long are you asking for? I'm assigned for this week, and the week is coming to an end. Can you give me any good reason why I should grant your continuance?”
Was he really considering granting her motion? Sandra held out some hope. “Judge, we only need about a day and a half.” That would take them through the rest of that day and one more day and give BJ and Efrain enough time to arrive by the following morning. Sandra held up her hand toward the judge as if to say, hear-me-out. “I know what you're going to say. That puts us into the weekend, but Your Honor, couldn't you call and ask the Administrative Judge to extend your assignment for another week? At least a pa
rt of next week?”
“I doubt he'd be inclined to grant that, Miss Salinsky.” The judge hovered over the bench, over her motion, like a bird of prey.
“This is a murder case, Your Honor. I would think the Administrative Judge would allow more time for a case of this severity.”
“Even if I was of a mind to make such a request, madam, what possible reason could you have to persuade me?”
“Unavailability of a witness.” Sandra fisted her hands behind her back.
“You used that one already,” the judge said, like she'd said the dog ate her homework.
“Two witnesses, actually. Mrs. Schindler isn't available.” Sandra drew the deepest breath possible and dove right in. “She's gone to find our alibi witness.”
Holt jumped up again. “That's b—” He stopped when the judge glared at him.
“They're two days away,” the judge stated with flat affect.
“Yes, sir.”
Thunder boomed so loudly Sandra flinched. Lightning flashed outside the windows, illuminating the courtroom.
The judge arched back in his chair. He tented his fingers. His eyes traveled to Holt and back to Erma, who sat near Rufina at the end of the table. After a moment, his eyes fixed on Sandra's. He pulled himself up to the bench again, sitting very stiff and straight. “Motion denied. Call your first witness.”
Rain splashed against the windows. Sandra's heart constricted, and her head dropped to her chest. She had only seconds to make her decision. After a moment, she glanced to her right at Rufina and Erma. The door opened at the back of the courtroom. Mel entered. She shook her head. Sandra closed her eyes for a moment and turned back to the judge. “Defense rests.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“May it please the Court.” Holt nodded to the judge as he approached the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we've now come to the most important part of our case.”
Erma whispered to Sandra, “I wonder how much of his time Holt'll stand on his soapbox.”
“He'll probably split it twenty-forty.” Sandra held her pen ready to make notes. “I would.”
Holt gripped a copy of the charge. “This charge and all the physical evidence will be sent to the jury room with you, with the exception of the murder weapon. I know you will follow the judge's instructions and read the whole charge aloud, before your deliberations begin.”
Jittery, Sandra doodled on her legal pad, trying to remain still.
“I want to talk about burden of proof for a moment.” Holt launched into the language contained in the charge. “As I'm sure you know, the State of Texas, represented here today by me, your duly elected District Attorney of Gillespie County, always has the burden of proof in a criminal case. In criminal law, the burden of proof is always beyond a reasonable doubt. Because the burden of proof is so onerous—”
“Objection!” Sandra said at the same instant she jumped to her feet. “He's not allowed to characterize—”
“You'll have your turn, Mrs. Salinsky.” The judge gave her a simpering smile. “Overruled.”
Heat rushed to her face. So this was how it would be? Holt's argument would be out of bounds, and the judge would allow it, the final act in a trial where the judge clearly favored the State, where Rufina didn't stand a chance. Fists clenched at her sides, Sandra sat down, but stayed on the edge of her chair. The judge might favor the prosecution, but Sandra would object for the record and for the benefit of the jury every step of the way. She hoped the jurors would notice the way the judge was treating the defense.
Holt's monotone continued. Sandra knew her focus was wandering, but she couldn't help but think about the fact this could have been her last trial, ever. She'd made up her mind to continue to practice law with Erma but as yet hadn't told Erma or Mel. There would be time for that later. Holt's toneless voice was like a bee buzzing outside the window. Erma nudged Sandra. Sandra refocused her eyes on his back.
“So, what any good police officer, investigator, or prosecutor does, when evaluating whether a suspect is likely the perpetrator in a case, is look at means, motive, and opportunity. That's what my staff and I did in this defendant's case.” Holt turned to the defense side of the room and pointed at Rufina. “This defendant had all those.”
The side door to the courtroom squeaked open. A young woman Sandra recognized from pretrial as being an employee of the prosecutor's office entered and sat on the first bench, right behind the counsel table. Holt shot her a look, his brow furled. She made the ASL sign for talk.
Sandra leaned over to Erma. “Did you see that?”
Erma said, “Something's going on, important enough for her to risk his wrath by distracting him during closing.”
Holt continued, not missing a beat. “One, the defendant had the means. She had access to the gun cabinet keys. Two, motive. The rancher's daughter burned down the defendant's house, causing the defendant's husband to die, and scarring the defendant for life. Third and last, opportunity. Who had more free access to the house, to movement about the house without raising suspicion, than the defendant, Rufina Barboza, the alleged best friend of—”
Sandra leaped up, intending to assert her objection as fast as she could. “Objection, Your Honor. Mischaracterization of the evidence by use of the word alleged. There's no question but that Rufina and BJ Schindler have been best friends since high school.”
As soon as Sandra stood, the judge scrambled to an upright position. He'd been leaning so far back in his chair, his head almost touched the wall. He didn't have time to cut her off, to rule in the middle of her objection. “Sustained.”
“Okay, then. Best friend of the rancher.” Holt peered over his shoulder at Sandra as if to say, satisfied?
Sandra sat down and muttered to Erma, “At least that woke me and the judge up.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, since the State has the burden of proof, we have the choice of presenting our argument all at one time or dividing our time to do our closing in two parts, before and after the defense. I have chosen the latter. This concludes my remarks for now. I'll speak to you in a few minutes.” Holt picked up the paper he'd carried to the podium and returned to the State's table.
Sandra approached the podium and drew a breath to steady herself. “May it please the Court.” As she was about to begin, Holt interrupted.
“Your Honor, may we approach the bench?”
“What the—” Sandra spun toward the judge. Holt had loped to the bench. Erma followed Holt. Holt's associate brought up the rear.
“What is it?” The judge turned off his microphone.
Erma, being a head shorter than the others, strained to hear the conversation.
Holt said, “Rex Schindler's upended truck was found this morning on the shoulder of Highway 16, on the road to Kerrville.”
“Whoa.” Erma stepped back.
Sandra didn't know if that was in response to Holt's statement or his strong aftershave, which threatened to throw her to the ground.
“A woman spotted the truck and called the sheriff. She found Rex in the tall grass alongside the overgrown ditch.”
“He's dead?” Sandra exchanged glances with the judge, who seemed more interested in the turn of events than he had in Holt's argument. His face livened up, eyes sparkling. His cheeks bloomed. He most likely wondered the same thing she did. What, if anything, did Rex's accident mean?
“I need an immediate recess,” Holt said. “He's not dead, not yet. I need to go to the hospital and talk to him.”
“I'd like to go, too, and hear his deathbed confession,” Erma said.
Sandra stepped back on Erma's toes. Erma jerked her foot out from under Sandra's.
Neither of the men responded to Erma's statement, didn't even look her way.
“So you're asking for what, a continuance?” Sandra couldn't help sneering. The judge might give Holt a continuance even though he'd denied hers.
Holt shot her an if-looks-could-kill glance. “Judge, I don't know what to make of this
, but I don't see how we can continue until Rex Schindler's condition is ascertained. If you would be so kind as to now call the Administrative Judge for a twenty-four-hour continuance, at least to start, that would give me time to find out if he's going to live and whether his truck flipping over had anything to do with this case.”
“Well, we know Rufina Barboza had nothing to do with it anyway.” Sandra crossed her arms. She sure as hell wasn't going to let him try to implicate Rufina.
“I don't know anything at this point,” Holt said. “If his condition is not too bad, I'll file a motion to reopen, Judge, and put him on the stand.”
Over her dead body, Sandra thought. But, on the other hand, BJ might show up by then with Efrain. What was good for the goose...
“Are you going to oppose such a motion?” The judge's eyes flickered from Sandra to Erma.
Sandra licked her lips, wishing she had more than a moment to think it over. “I don't want to have to try this case twice. I suppose I wouldn't object if he's not in real bad shape and can testify soon, but if this thing is going to drag out a couple of weeks, I think you'd have to declare a mistrial.”
“Umph.” The judge gritted his teeth, his jaw muscles flexing. He rolled back his chair. “Jurors, this is highly unusual, but we'll be in recess until tomorrow morning at nine. Do not discuss anything you've heard or seen today with anyone or each other. Please be prompt when you return.”
Erma headed to the ladies' room, saying she'd meet them at the car. The others walked downstairs. At the door to the courthouse, Mel said, “Rufina and I don't want to go to the hospital. The rain's stopped, so we're going to Main Street to the shops and for something to eat.”
“Rufina, is that what you want to do? You don't want to go to the hospital?”
“I don't think it would look right.” She held her purse in front of her, over her stomach, like a package she was taking to mail. “Do you?”
“If you wouldn't mind going with Mel, I'd appreciate it. Spring break is almost over, and she's going to return to Galveston even if we have to remain here through part of next week. Don't know when she'll ever get back up this way.”
Death of a Rancher's Daughter Page 33