When Men Betray

by Webb Hubbell

  “We might ask ourselves, Did the senator know that his friends were violating the law by colluding on oil prices? Did he realize they’d been laundering stolen art through his beloved Arts Center? Why in the world would he write all this down if he thought they were criminals? I’m not sure. I’ve met all of these men myself. They’re good old boys, very wealthy good old boys. Russell would feel right at home with them. Their first visits were probably social, a politician hosting wealthy contributors to a weekend at his club. Then, as they became friends, they helped him build his Arts Center and make it a showcase. If they needed a ‘little ol’ bill’ to help with the provenance, it was no skin off his back. Certainly no one in the legislature or the media saw a problem at the time.

  “Doing small favors would have been a small price to pay to people who were going to launch a Super PAC to support his future plans. Isn’t that what Washington is all about these days? But his knowledge is not the point. The senator isn’t here to defend himself, and we will never know what he knew.

  “The points for us to consider are, what did Woody discover and what did that knowledge lead him to do? I think Woody discovered the same thing I’ve been able to piece together, plus a whole lot more. Whatever Woody turned up after he read the register, I bet it was more than what I’ve been able to discover in just a few days. He knew all the governor’s issues and knew many of the other visitors to the duck club. If the oilmen got what they wanted, who else benefited from their visits to this special club? Sure, Woody left me clues, but if I could discover the oil and art connection in a single day, what could Woody have found in three weeks?

  “Personally, I tend to think that Woody still had faith in Russell. Remember, he didn’t have Russell’s private journal. He probably held Russell largely innocent and believed that the senator could and would fix whatever had gone wrong. That’s why he spent night after night going over the register, filling a file cabinet full of documents—not to crush the senator, but to help him.

  “If he was angry at Russell after reading the register, why go to Russell except to get him to change course? He could have leaked it all to Bob Woodward, Ron Fournier, or any other reputable journalist, which for Russell would mean a political fate worse than death. And if he did plan to kill Russell, then why bury the book in the opposition research? Why hide the document that would destroy Russell’s reputation? Doesn’t make sense, does it?”

  I watched them both, but still couldn’t get a read on what Sam or Marshall were thinking.

  “Russell sent him to retrieve the register, probably because of the women’s names that appear. Once he saw the register, I think Woody was more concerned by the actual guests. The names of the oilmen were familiar to me, quite by coincidence, but we don’t know what the other names meant to Woody. Regardless, Woody decided to store the register with the opposition research where neither Lucy nor some curious journalist could get to it. Why didn’t Russell ask Woody to get both books? Maybe he planned to burn his journal, or maybe he planned to keep it as insurance. We’ll never know.

  “What we do know is that Woody met with Russell on Tuesday. They argued, and then Woody left the office in a huff and bought the gun. The prosecution presents the theory that they argued over Woody’s being fired. I believe that such a theory is totally inconsistent with the facts.

  “What’s more likely, is that Woody confronted Russell with what he had discovered about the oilmen—price-fixing and trafficking in stolen art. Russell must have been shocked. I hope he was. Maybe Woody found evidence of a link between the illicit art sales and terrorists. Maybe he found something even worse. Regardless, he presented his suspicions to Russell, but to no avail—Russell’s loyalty to McAlvin was unshakable. The effect on Woody was profound. He went first to Janis Harold and then to Mr. Massie’s to purchase a gun. The prosecution argues that Woody was so furious at the senator that he decided to kill him. But Woody had been angry with Russell before. They’d argued hundreds of times and never came to blows once. There could be another explanation, but let’s consider this one.

  “Woody is devastated. He knows he betrayed me long ago. More recently, he betrayed you, Sam. Now, he’s betrayed himself and his principles by letting Russell get into this situation and by being unable to convince Russell to take action. Woody can’t believe how naïve he and Russell have been—how they’d been used. Now their dream is over. So he decides to end his own life.”

  I looked at Woody. We were all looking at him. His head was in his hands, and he was shaking. Micki reached over and put her arm around his shoulder.

  I said, “You were wrong, my friend. You didn’t betray anyone.”

  Woody didn’t look up, so I continued.

  “So Woody buys a gun. What didn’t come out yesterday is what the store owner says in the affidavit Maggie is about to give you. Woody had no idea how to handle a gun. Mr. Massie had Woody pull the trigger several times to see if it was too tight. It was. He didn’t have a very strong grip, and he had never handled a gun before, so Woody had a hard time and his hand jerked. It was easy for Mr. Massie to adjust the trigger to make it easier to squeeze. I believe that’s called giving the gun a ‘hair trigger.’ Second, he says he showed Woody how to operate the safety several times, but he didn’t think Woody understood, even when he left the store.

  “What did Woody do after he bought the gun? He went to a bar and got drunk. I say got drunk because, as you can see on the copy of the bar bill Maggie is giving you, he had quite a few drinks and left the waitress a hundred dollar tip. The next day he apologized to his mother, wrote a ten thousand dollar check to his ex-wife, signed a will and a trust that gave away all his assets to the trust, wrote a note to me, and brought home two unbelievably expensive bottles of wine. He drank wine and reminisced with his mother about the past until he went to bed.

  “Now back to the argument between Russell and Woody—what Russell did or who he might have called after the argument no one knows. Until someone subpoenas the phone records from his Little Rock office, I can only speculate that Russell told someone about the argument. The staffers who overheard the argument on Tuesday say that Russell was on the phone almost immediately after Woody left. We won’t know whether he called Lucy, McAlvin, or my former law firm unless the phone records tell us.

  “Someone knew about Woody’s suspicions. They didn’t question Mr. Massie by accident. Whoever they were, they knew the make and model of the gun that allegedly killed the senator before it was even fired.

  “Within an hour of the shooting, these same unidentified men showed up at Helen Cole’s home in a van and carted away Woody’s computer and file cabinet. His car was cleaned out and wiped clean of prints.”

  I had reached the homestretch. Feeling sick to my stomach at what would come next, I took a drink of water. I asked the judge if I could set up the video equipment.

  Almost knocking over his chair, Marshall rose suddenly and called for a break. This time he was even firmer in his admonition. “No one is to talk about what they’ve heard until today’s hearing is concluded. If anyone does, you will not pass go, you will not collect $200, and you will go directly to jail, and not for just one night.” He looked pointedly at the bailiff and then left the room.

  Woody, who seemed lost in thought, was allowed to remain in his chair.

  While Maggie set up the video equipment, I whispered to Micki. “Is this right? Should I show the video?”

  She looked at me and smiled. “You’ve laid it out, but you’ve still got to make them believe. Besides, you haven’t shown them your curve ball.”

  48

  SAM HUDDLED WITH his deputies during the break, while Peggy and Rodney fell into a deep discussion. I reminded Woody that he had to remain silent throughout the next part. He nodded, looking down at his hands. Micki and I helped Maggie with the video as best we could. It didn’t take long. Marshall soon returned and said we could continue.

  “Your Honor, I wish I didn’t have to do this, bu
t before I conclude, I need to replay the video of the shooting. I know we have stipulated that the bullet from Woody’s gun caused Russell’s death. None of us wants to have to go through an exhumation. This is the same video that was shown yesterday, but we are playing it on a special device that allows us to see the images in super-slow motion. I can have an expert witness explain the process if need be.”

  Marshall motioned for me to proceed. Woody seemed to shrink. I hated doing this to him, but it was necessary.

  First Maggie ran the video at normal speed; then I had her slow it down and asked everyone to focus on Russell’s head after he fell to the floor. “As you can see, the side of his head that was shot is facing up, and the blood is oozing out from the other side which is against the floor. I’m not an expert in forensics, but it seems to me that the bullet blew a hole out on the other side, likely exiting the skull. I’m confident that, at trial, an expert would agree with me, at least generally. I know law enforcement is still trying to determine the trajectory of the bullet after it left the skull, but so far, the bullet has not been found.”

  I asked Maggie to run the video again as slowly as possible and asked everyone to concentrate on the very tip of the gun right before and during the explosion.

  “Unfortunately, the trooper blocks the camera, so we can’t see where the tip of the gun is at the time of impact.”

  Marshall asked, “What are you getting at? Woody didn’t miss. The senator’s dead.”

  “That’s certainly logical, but perhaps at the last minute Woody lost his nerve. Or maybe when he pulled the trigger the gun jerked, since he’d never shot a gun before.”

  “But that would assume someone else shot the senator.”

  Marshall was leading me exactly where I wanted to go.

  “It would, Your Honor. So I’m going to ask Maggie to run the video again, and this time, I’m going to ask you to watch what happens right as the gun goes off, at this point on the screen.”

  I used a laser pointer to spotlight the crowd on the side of the rotunda closest to where Woody stood and on the side where he had placed the gun to the senator’s head. Maggie ran the video. At the moment Woody’s gun fired, at least five people jerked their heads up and around, over their shoulders. They didn’t look at Woody. Instead, they looked behind and up, toward the balcony. I asked Maggie to run the video again.

  Sam said in disbelief, “Are you contending that at exactly the same moment Woody shot his gun, someone else fired a different gun and that it was that bullet that killed Russell?”

  “Or got there simultaneously? No. Nor can I say beyond a reasonable doubt that it didn’t happen. I can’t explain why those people looked up rather than at Woody. Maybe somebody on the balcony dropped a briefcase. Maybe a door slammed. I don’t know, but at trial, that video is going to be played again and again before a jury. That balcony will become Little Rock’s version of the grassy knoll.”

  Before Sam or Marshall could argue, I went on. “Let me suggest a different scenario. Russell scorns Woody’s suspicions, tells Woody he’s crazy. Overwhelmed by the entire situation, Woody thinks he can scare Russell into doing the right thing. He buys the gun. He’s obviously not thinking wisely, because he brings a loaded gun into the capitol rotunda. He thinks the safety’s on, but it’s not. He goes up to Russell, and they start to argue about whatever it is they’ve been arguing about. He thinks if he makes a big enough scene, Russell will come to his senses. But he has already decided to commit suicide, no matter what Russell does. He believes he’s betrayed me, himself, and almost everyone else. He thinks that only an act this desperate and self-sacrificial can make Russell face what he’s unwittingly been a part of. And if Russell doesn’t come around, Woody’s left clues that he knows I’ll figure out—he knows I won’t let it go and believes the truth will come out. He hopes that, in the end, I’ll make it right.” So far, no reaction from Woody whatsoever.

  “Anyway, they continue to argue—the gun is now at Russell’s head, but Woody accidentally touches the hair trigger. Russell is dead. Woody is horrified. In shock, he tries to turn the gun on himself, but a trooper is on top of him and wrestles the gun away.

  “Maybe the man on the balcony has fired as well, but misses because Russell jerks backward immediately after Woody’s gun has fired. Maybe he was aiming at Woody instead of Russell. That’s a strong possibility. Unless they knew Russell was about to expose them, why kill the golden goose? Maybe, because of Woody, the shooter realizes he doesn’t have to shoot at all and simply flees the building during the chaos. There’s no way to know.

  “Sorry, Sam, it wasn’t your responsibility, but it’s now been a week, and I bet nobody has searched the balcony. Either theory would explain those turned heads. I’m sure that at trial, Micki will ask whoever examined the crime scene, ‘Did you search for another bullet? Did you search the balcony? Did you interview the people who turned their heads to ask them what they heard? Did you interview people who were holding cameras to see if they could provide a different view of what occurred?’ Currently, I presume the answer to all those questions is no.

  “If you do exhume Russell’s body, it’s unlikely to tell us much. Based on the video, it’s unlikely the bullet is still in Russell’s head, and by now, time and the undertakers have destroyed whatever a medical examiner could normally discover.

  “I believe all the evidence points to an accidental shooting; certainly not murder. A good lawyer like Micki might convince a jury there’s a reasonable doubt that Woody even killed the senator … that the bullet may have come from our grassy knoll.

  “Furthermore, every bit of what I’ve said in chambers today will have to come out. Our oilmen will have time to cover their tracks, continue to control the price of oil, provide cash to terrorists, and perhaps be successful the next time they try to kill me—or you, since you now know what I know. So I have a proposal if you’re willing to listen.”

  Marshall wondered aloud, “Should I be a part of this?”

  “Please. It involves a plea, which you’ll have to approve and supervise. I don’t need you to rule on it today, but if you absolutely cannot go along, I’d like to know.”

  Marshall looked tense but mumbled, “Continue.”

  Sam was next. “I can’t imagine what you have in mind, but I’ll hear what you have to offer.”

  I looked at Peggy. “What does the US government say?”

  She looked surprised, which surprised me. “We’re not a party to the proceeding in this matter.”

  “Well, murdering a US senator is certainly a federal crime. So are conspiring to fix oil prices, trafficking in stolen art, and conspiring with terrorists. I can’t make a deal with Sam and worry that Dub is going to turn around and indict Woody for murder. We’re wasting our time if you’re not willing to listen and consider what I propose. I know you don’t have the authority to agree, but if you’ll hear me out, and if you’re willing to recommend my proposal to the attorney general, that’ll be good enough. If not, I’ll tell the judge I’m ready to present this information in open court, and tomorrow we’ll put on our first witness—Bea Taylor.”

  Peggy gave me a half-hearted smile. I knew I had her over a barrel.

  “I can’t let you do that, Jack.”

  “I don’t know that you have much choice.”

  “I could get a restraining order.”

  “And stop the trial of the accused murderer of a US senator? Even if you got an order under seal, how long would it take it to be leaked? Look, you don’t have to agree; just hear me out for ten more minutes.”

  She couldn’t argue. Giving me a tense smile she said, “I’m listening.” So now I had three reluctant participants.

  Marshall rose again. “Counsel, you may only need ten minutes, but I need at least ten minutes to think about what you’ve just said. Let’s take a break.”

  This time I didn’t mind the interruption at all—I welcomed the opportunity to gather my thoughts and plan how best to proceed.


  It was twenty minutes before Marshall returned. I was prepared for his questions, but he sat down and quietly asked me to continue.

  “Senator Robinson is dead. Nothing can change that. He died a beloved senator and martyr, but if we have to put on evidence tomorrow, that’s likely to change. No matter what spin I put on it today, there will be those who interpret the same facts very differently. They will say he took bribes, attack his environmental record as a sham, say he was a facilitator for an oil-pricing scheme, and maybe even claim he was in bed with terrorists. Reporters will scour everything he’s ever done to find a scandal, and they’ll drag every woman he even smiled at through the mud. When the media turns on someone, it gets ugly fast. The journals will be their road map, and who knows what they’ll turn up and what crimes will be revealed. Russell doesn’t deserve that. As I said before, he’s not here to defend himself.

  “What we can do is what I think Woody hoped Russell would do. Let’s stop the betrayals. Let’s stop these oilmen from meeting in secret rooms and duck clubs to decide what we pay for gas while they rake in obscene profits. More importantly, let’s stop them from funding terrorists and ripping off other countries’ historical treasures. How in the world can an American company or individual justify giving terrorists money to buy arms to kill Americans—or anyone else for that matter? These aren’t just backroom deals; these are serious crimes affecting our nation’s security and economy. I think what I’ve discovered is just the tip of the iceberg. Let’s put a stop to every potential crime and dirty trick we can find in those duck club journals!”

  Marshall’s eyebrows went up and the corners of his mouth went down. Time to step down from my soapbox.