by Ace Collins
Undaunted, Tidwell played his next card by trotting up a host of witnesses, who testified to the nature and character of James Thomas. These talking heads ranged from fellow students, to coaches, neighbors, scoutmasters, teachers, and businessmen. Each of them painted a picture of Thomas as a perfect model for American youth. The testimony made it sound as if the boy was up for sainthood. Still, Cheryl was able to knock holes in these stories, too.
Upon cross-examination, a number of the students admitted that the underage Thomas had been known to drink, even occasionally get drunk. The linchpin moment came when Cheryl cross-examined Matt Craig.
“Mr. Craig, you claim to be James Thomas’s best friend, is that correct?”
“Yes,” the six-foot, solidly built young man answered. As he waited for the next question, his dark brown eyes sought out Tidwell. The attorney smiled.
“Mr. Craig,” Cheryl continued, “you were not with Mr. Thomas on the night of the accident. Is that correct?”
“No, I was home that night.”
“I believe you were grounded. Is that correct?”
All the color abruptly drained from Craig’s face, his confused expression clearly spelling out his shock. As he struggled to find words, Cheryl continued.
“I can bring witnesses, including your mother and girlfriend, who will not only confirm that you were grounded but will give the reason as to why.”
“Your Honor,” Tidwell barked from his table, “the fact that he was grounded that night has no bearing on this case.”
Truett looked down at the assistant district attorney, “Can you justify this line of questioning?”
“Yes sir, and as this is Mr. Tidwell’s witness and he opened up the door, I plan on walking through it and revealing the skeletons in the closet.”
“Then go ahead,” Truett suggested.
“Mr. Craig, why were you grounded by your parents?”
The boy sheepishly answered, “I got caught drinking.”
“Was it at a party?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“At whose house?”
Craig took a deep breath. “Jim Thomas.”
“And did Jim Thomas supply the alcohol that night?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The kid scratched he head before adding, “well, actually his father did. The judge always got the booze for us. He didn’t want his son getting picked up buying with a fake ID.”
Cheryl smiled as she glanced back to Tidwell and then deeper into the courtroom to Judge Thomas. “I think that is all I need from this witness.”
Truett dismissed Craig. When the teen had exited the courtroom, he glanced over to the prosecution’s table.
“Miss Bednarz, if an investigation has not yet begun, I suggest your office get with the police chief and validate Mr. Craig’s testimony. If he has lied about who supplied the alcohol for these parties, then I will charge him with perjury. If what he says is true, then the adult who supplied that alcohol needs to be charged and dealt with.” Glancing at his watch, the judge looked up and said, “This is the end of the morning session. We will begin again at 1:30.”
As Meg got up, she felt a lot better than she had when she’d walked into the courtroom. Cheryl had anticipated every move Tidwell was going to make and was ready to counter. Her preparation had likely come as a shock to the defense, but what would the crafty old attorney do next?
43
OVER LUNCH AT A NEARBY SUBWAY, MEG ASKED CHERYL THE QUESTION that was likely on the minds of everyone who witnessed the morning’s proceedings. “How did you know what Tidwell was going to do? Every time he made some kind of move, you pulled out a trump card?”
“It was nothing really,” she modestly explained. “Everyone knew he’d trot out folks who’d attempt to make Thomas look like the all-American, innocent kid. So I spent the last month looking at every possible person that Tidwell would likely use and did research on them. The Craig kid likely hadn’t told Tidwell about his checkered past. So I went to his girlfriend and mother to discover why the guy who was usually Thomas’s shadow was not there that night. The mother slipped up and said she was so glad she grounded him. The rest of the information came easily after that.”
“But the consumer affairs guy,” Meg noted. “How did you have the information you needed at your fingertips?”
“Oldest trick in the book,” Cheryl explained. “When you can’t blame the man, blame the vehicle. I did full research on the make and model to see what Tidwell would find. The car was simply well-made and had few problems. But I’m sure Tidwell thought I was too green to already have those facts in hand. He was expecting me to be surprised by that move. I loved watching him wilt when I had more facts on the matter than he probably did.”
Meg nibbled on her sandwich before posing the question that she really was afraid to ask. “Are we winning?”
Cheryl shrugged. “I can’t read Judge Truett and I doubt if anyone can. I do know he is a pretty good friend of the Thomas family. But he also has the reputation of not letting anything stand in the way of the truth.”
“So you think he’ll make a judgment just on the evidence?” Meg asked.
“Yeah. Let’s review what has happened in the first day and a half. Tidwell has attempted to cast doubt upon Steve’s character and I just don’t think he’s done it. He also attempted to paint Thomas as an angel and I think we beat that one, too. Then, in a move I had expected, Craig volunteered that it was Judge Thomas who supplied the booze for the kid’s parties. So I think Jasper has to be worried, and if I am right, the only thing he can do to shore up his case is to call Thomas to the stand. I sure hope that’s what he does.”
“So you want to take on Thomas?” Meg asked.
“If I were Tidwell,” Cheryl shot back, “I’d be scared of having me go after him. He has seen how well I’ve been prepared. But Tidwell is in a hole and he really has no choice because the blood evidence doesn’t lie. His client was drunk. So he has to put him there and let the chips fall where they may. That may shore up his guilt, but not putting Thomas up there will certainly seal his doom.”
Meg nodded, a rush of warmth filling her heart. Maybe they could beat the Thomas money after all.
Cheryl’s eyes drifted to a far window. As the light caught in those baby blues, she smiled grimly. “Meg, I want him to feel my wrath. I want to treat him like I wish I could have treated my father’s killer. I want the chance to deliver the final blow for the prosecution by personally knocking the cover off the man who was responsible for killing your husband. I want Jim Thomas to pay the price for every person who has ever used a car and a bottle as a weapon. I can’t begin to explain how badly I want that!”
Cheryl turned her attention back to the woman across the table. “How did you sleep last night?”
Shaking her head, Meg answered, “Not well. I was so mad I just tossed and turned.”
“Well,” Cheryl smiled, “tonight you’ll sleep, and if I’m right, sleep very well. I think we’ll have a verdict by the end of the afternoon.” Looking at her watch, she continued, “Okay, time to get back.”
Meg took a last sip of her Coke. Would this be the day when she could put this huge weight of retribution off her shoulders and onto the person who should be carrying the load? Would she be able to visit Steve’s grave tonight and tell him that she had won?
44
ONCE THE AFTERNOON SESSION OPENED UP, JASPER TIDWELL DID JUST what Cheryl had predicted. Still, it was easy for anyone to see the defense attorney didn’t look very pleased when he called Jim Thomas to the stand. Maybe sensing the verdict was no sure thing, the young man looked nervous and afraid as the questioning began.
“Mr. Thomas,” Tidwell’s voice was kind and gentle, almost grandfatherly as he began, “on the night in question, in your own words, tell me, and this court, exactly what happened?”
“Well, sir,” the boy began, “a few of my friends and I had been out having a little party. Nothing big, just laughing and stuff around a bon fire
out at the lake. The fire was dying down and it was getting cold so we decided to go to Susie’s, excuse me, Miss Milam’s house. On the way, I looked up and saw this car barreling around a curve, his lights on bright, in my lane.
“I guess I just reacted, I don’t know, but I swerved into the other lane and he followed me, probably trying to avoid me and correct his own mistake. I put on my brakes, but I couldn’t miss him.”
“I see,” Tidwell stated, nodding his head as if in approval of the story. “Now this is very important. Think carefully before you answer my next question. Had you been drinking that night?”
“No, sir,” the boy quickly replied. “The others had, but I didn’t because I was driving. I didn’t feel that would be responsible, sir.”
Meg could hardly believe the piety the boy was attempting to show. She looked around and noted that very few other folks seemed to be buying it either. But what about Judge Truett? She couldn’t read his face. He remained as stoic as he had been throughout the entire trial.
“But, James,” the attorney said, “at the hospital the blood test indicated that you had some alcohol, an amount over the state’s legal limit, in your blood. If you didn’t drink, how can you explain that?” Tidwell turned after asking the question, strolled over to an area just in front of the prosecution’s table, faced the audience, and waited for a response.
Clearing his throat, Thomas began his explanation. “Well, when the wreck happened, I hit my head. As a matter of fact, you can see the scar,” he pointed to a long mark on his forehead. “Anyway, I was knocked out cold and in an attempt to bring me around, one of the kids poured some scotch down my throat. When I came to, my girlfriend poured some more in my wound to help stop any chance of infection.”
“So,” Tidwell, now turning back toward his witness, concluded, “you actually had nothing to drink before the accident. And the car driven by Steven Richards, the one that the prosecution claims you struck, blinded you with its bright lights and actually hit you. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
During the entire line of questioning, Thomas delivered his answers like a pro. Not once did he ever sound or appear anything but completely sincere.
“Ms. Bednarz,” Judge Truett asked, “do you have any questions?”
“I believe I have some pretty good ones,” she replied from her seat.
A few seconds later, Cheryl got up from her chair and moved like a cat toward the witness. She glared at him for about thirty seconds and then in a low, steady voice inquired, “Mr. Thomas, do you actually expect us to believe that your blood count went to 1.4 because of one shot of whiskey administered to bring you around after you hit your head?”
“That’s the way it happened,” the boy resolutely answered. He then continued, “Of course, I’m no chemist, so I couldn’t tell you the levels or anything.”
“No,” Cheryl smiled, “you’re not a chemist, and you are not a very good liar either.”
“Your Honor!” Jasper Tidwell’s voice roared throughout the courtroom.
The assistant district attorney was ready. With no hesitation she marched to her table and picked up two stacks of paper. She dropped one stack on the defense table and handed the other to the judge. As the two men looked through the documents, she explained what they would find.
“In each of these reports you will find sworn testimony from every teenager who was at the bon fire the night of the accident. They were deposed in front of a court reporter and witnesses. Each one stated very clearly that James Thomas, the defendant, was drinking both beer and scotch that night. In fact, he actually taught them a drinking game.”
Cheryl glanced back toward Tidwell. He’d pushed both his hands into his hair. She studied the old man for a moment before turning back to the judge. “We can produce these eleven high school students and put them on the stand if you and Mr. Tidwell would like.”
“It’s your call, Jasper,” Truett announced.
“Your Honor,” the defense attorney stammered, “I had no idea. I’m just as surprised as you are in this matter.” He glanced back to the depositions and shrugged. “I see no reason why we would need anyone to verify what they have already sworn to.”
Cheryl smiled. “May I continue my questioning of Mr. Thomas?”
“You may,” Truett assured her.
“I believe you told us that Steven Richards’s car lights were on high beam and thus blinded you as you rounded the curve. Is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Cheryl walked quickly back to the prosecution’s table and picked up a piece of paper. She studied it for a moment before moving back to the bench and handing the document to the judge.
“Your Honor and Mr. Tidwell, Mr. Richards had an appointment with Gene’s Auto Service, located on Abbott Road in Springfield for the Monday after the tragic wreck that claimed his life. You will note this on the service agreement I have presented to the court.” She paused a moment, looked back at Tidwell and smiled. “The week before he was killed, Mr. Richards had received a warning ticket because one of his bright lights was not working. He informed the head mechanic at Gene’s of this and that was the reason for the service appointment. Thus, he was not driving with high beams that night and the low beams would not have caused any distractions for other drivers including Mr. Thomas.”
Tidwell flew toward the bench where Truett handed him the document. The lawyer studied it for just a moment before moving slowly back to his seat.
“No more questions, Your Honor,” Cheryl snapped as soon as her adversary sat down.
“Any follow-up questions, Jasper?” the judge asked.
Tidwell shook his head.
“Mr. Thomas,” Judge Truett flatly stated, “the court is finished with you. You may step down.” Turning toward the defense table, the judge asked, “Mr. Tidwell, do you have more witnesses?”
“No, the defense is finished.”
“Ms. Bednarz, is the prosecution completed?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Okay,” Judge Truett said, “if there are no objections, I will initiate a fifteen-minute recess then I will come back and hear closing arguments. Court will reconvene at 2:20 p.m.”
Meg couldn’t believe Cheryl hadn’t drilled Thomas more. He had lied! Why hadn’t she gone for the throat? Why hadn’t she really lit a fire under him? She had him in her sights. Hadn’t she thrown in the towel too soon? Even with all the testimony working in their favor, maybe this wasn’t a sure thing after all.
45
USING THE RECESS TO GET A DRINK OF WATER, MEG WAS SHOCKED TO RUN into her mother walking down the hallway. Why was she here? After all, Meg had asked her to stay home.
“Mom, I thought we agreed you weren’t coming?”
“I know,” Barbara answered, “but I couldn’t stay away either. Will you please let me sit with you? Please let me be your mother again?”
In truth, that wasn’t too much to ask. Meg hadn’t anticipated that being alone was going to be this disquieting. Meg needed someone there—especially if things didn’t work out.
After Meg nodded in approval, Barbara asked, “What’s going on?”
As they walked side by side down the hall, Meg caught her mother up on the events of today. The session was just beginning when the two of them reentered the courtroom and seated themselves behind Cheryl.
Judge Truett looked out at the scene before him, adjusted his robe and glanced over to the prosecutor. After catching the assistant district attorney’s eye, he asked, “Are you ready Ms. Bednarz?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Cheryl stood at the table and, after taking two steps toward the bench, began, “I don’t think there is any doubt that we have proven, despite all of the smoke screens that Mr. Tidwell has thrown up, that James Thomas is guilty on all charges. If the court does not rule so, not only will we in the county be guilty of freeing a man who took another man’s life but we will be making a larger statement to any man or woma
n in this county, this state, and even this country who drinks and drives in the future. That message is ‘go ahead, you can get away with it.’ ” She paused, took a deep breath and added, “Even if you kill someone.
“At some point the American system has to protect us against those who maim and murder through the use of alcohol. If James Thomas,” Cheryl pointed toward the youth with both her hand and eyes, “is cleared, then how many more of our youth, and even the adults in this community, will think nothing of drinking and then driving?”
As she allowed the words to soak in she moved toward the center of the room. She stood there a moment before picking up her arguments. “It is time, no, it is way past time for us to get this kind of abuse off the streets and away from those who can be hurt. The actions of James Thomas have left a pregnant woman alone and will leave a child to wonder what his or her father was like. While the defendant lives, the innocent party, as well as those who needed and depended on him, must pay a huge price. Meg Richards and her unborn child have already been sentenced to a life without a husband and a father. This happens over 12,000 times a year in this country. In these cases, no court decides who dies, but rather that decision is in the hands of an alcohol-fueled executioner. Now the time has come to find one of those executioners guilty.”
The assistant district attorney turned toward the Thomas family and continued, “In this case, as in almost every other case involving underage drinking, it was an adult who supplied the alcohol. The fact that the adult in this matter might have been a member of the bench shows how little regard most in America view the problem of underage drinking.
“In conclusion,” she said, once more facing the judge, “Your Honor, we have proven our case. There can be no doubt. Now is the time and the only verdict that the evidence can possibly call for is guilty. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bednarz,” the judge said from his bench. After she had taken her seat, he turned to the defense. “Are you ready, Mr. Tidwell?”