Dead mountain, p.31
Dead Mountain, page 31
Sharp said nothing for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it was slow and gravelly. “It’s not up to you.” His gaze swept Corrie and Nora in turn, and he lowered his voice. “Nor to me.”
59
ALL RISE.”
Once again, the judge entered the courtroom, more lugubrious than ever, hiked up his robes, sat down behind the bench, and called the courtroom to order. Skip sat once again in the dock, miserable and scared and worse than ever after four days of waiting, his suit more wrinkled, his hair sticking out. Nora was exhausted. She ached all over, and she felt like she’d slept no more than four hours in the last four days. But she couldn’t miss this last session of her brother’s trial—and her opportunity to testify.
The jury, on the other hand, was alert and refreshed from the weekend, and the spectator section was once again full.
Lightfeather had explained to Nora that unless something freakish happened, today—Monday—would be the last day of the trial, and Skip’s fate would be determined. The prosecution had decided not to call their surprise witness from the fight at Gallina’s Peek after all; Lightfeather told Nora he’d learned that the fight had broken out over an impolite nickname of Hawley’s, one that the sheriff decided he didn’t want to make public. Deputy Baca, Lightfeather went on, would be the last witness to testify for the prosecution, and then they’d have an opportunity to cross-examine. After that, Lightfeather would mount Skip’s defense. He was planning to call two witnesses, Nora and Tenorio. He was not going to call Skip, as he had concluded—rightly so in Nora’s opinion—that Skip would not testify well.
As the court settled in, the judge called on the DA to continue the prosecution’s presentation.
Scowsen stood up. “I would like to call as our final witness Deputy Sheriff Raymond Baca.”
Baca entered the courtroom in uniform, immaculate, badge gleaming with a fresh polish, black hair combed back. He took the witness stand and was sworn in. Nora glanced at Hawley, sitting at the DA’s table; he had a satisfied smile on his face.
Scowsen strolled over to the witness stand—he had an unhurried manner, studied or not—and greeted Baca. “Deputy Sheriff. How are you today?”
Baca nodded.
“Your answers,” said Scowsen, in an affable tone, “should always be spoken so our court reporter can be sure to get them down on paper.”
“I’m fine,” said Baca curtly.
“Excellent. This should not take long. Now, I’d like to direct your memory back to the events of the afternoon of November 5. I understand you were guarding the recently discovered cave site when some people arrived. Could you tell us about that?”
“Yes, sir. The defendant, there, Skip Kelly; his sister, Nora Kelly; and another fellow arrived around two PM. Mr. Tenorio arrived at the same time in another vehicle.”
“And you knew them from before?”
“I knew them, yes, from a previous visit to the cave.”
“And what happened next?”
“They told me they were going to remove the two Indian bodies. I said I’d better check with the sheriff first, but they ignored me and went ahead with the digging.”
“And you checked with the sheriff?”
“Yes. It took a while, because I had to get into my vehicle and drive partway down the mountain to get service. I called and the sheriff said he was coming right up.”
“And then what happened?”
“The sheriff arrived about an hour and a half later, just as they were taking out the first of the two in a body bag.”
“And who was ‘they’?”
“The defendant, Skip Kelly, and his sister, Nora. I was waiting for the sheriff in the parking area. When he arrived, we started down the trail to the cave. That’s when we encountered them coming up carrying the body.”
“And then?”
“Sheriff Hawley informed them that the bones were government property. When they ignored him, he tried to stop them from carrying the body bag to their van.”
“And then?”
It seemed to Nora that Baca’s face had darkened slightly. He hesitated.
“What happened then, Sheriff Baca?” the prosecutor urged.
“The sheriff blocked their path and told them to put down the bones.”
“Can you describe for us that exact scene? It will help the jury form an accurate picture in their minds. I assume someone was carrying the bag in front, and another from behind?”
“Yes. Um, Skip Kelly was in front and Nora Kelly was behind.”
Nora almost rose from her seat. She managed to stop herself, then turned to Lightfeather. “That’s a lie,” she whispered. “I was the one in front.”
Lightfeather laid a restraining finger on her forearm. “Just listen. Don’t react.”
“Please go on, Deputy Baca,” Scowsen said.
“So when the sheriff blocked the path, Skip said something like ‘Get out of our way.’”
“To whom?”
“Sheriff Hawley.”
Nora felt the blood flush to her face. The lying had started in earnest. She couldn’t believe how this man, a sworn officer of the law, could lie so brazenly—in front of a judge, a jury . . . not to mention those watching who knew the truth.
“And then?”
“The sheriff repeated the order to put down the body. He said it was federal property.” Baca took a deep breath, and the rest all came out in a rush. “Nora Kelly said something about NAGPRA law and how she was working for Isleta Pueblo. The sheriff repeated that the bones were federal property and she was engaged in theft. Then Skip Kelly started yelling about how this was a sacred Native American burial. He insulted the sheriff. He was, uh, angry and when the sheriff wouldn’t move out of his way, he dropped the handle of the body bag, seized the sheriff by the shoulders—catching him off guard—and violently threw him to the ground. Then he bolted. I ran after him, apprehended him. The defendant tried to hide his phone but I took it from him. I cuffed him and read him his rights.”
“And the sheriff?”
“He was on the ground. Stunned—the ground was covered with sharp rocks. Anyway, after Sheriff Hawley had recovered enough to function, we took the defendant in handcuffs to the police vehicle and drove off.”
“And the sister, Nora Kelly? What did she do?”
“She was hysterical. Screaming. Followed us to the parking area until we drove away.”
“At any time during this confrontation, did the sheriff touch or make any other contact with Nora Kelly?”
“Never.”
“Did Nora Kelly fall down?”
“Yes. She tripped as she was running up the path after us.”
“Did the defendant, Skip Kelly, take video or pictures at any time?”
“No.”
“Why did you confiscate the phone?”
“Because he was trying to hide it in what I deemed a suspicious manner.”
“Were the contents of the phone examined?”
“Yes. We got a warrant.”
“And what did you find?”
“Incriminating evidence.”
“What sort of evidence?”
“Pictures of the defendant, his sister, and the two others with them, engaged in illegally excavating the Indian burials.”
“So confiscation of the phone was justified from an evidentiary point of view, correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Nora—forbidden by Lightfeather from reacting—had kept her eyes riveted on Baca. Now that he’d unloaded all his lies, which she was certain he’d carefully rehearsed, the dark color of his face lightened somewhat and he exhaled, deflating like a balloon.
The DA took a folder from his table. “I’d like to enter these photographs taken from the defendant’s phone into evidence. Mr. Baca, I want to thank you for your testimony, and your service to this county and this country. I have no more questions.”
It was Lightfeather’s turn. He waited until Scowsen had seated himself. Then he rose to his feet, picking up a book from his table as he did so—a small book Nora hadn’t noticed before. “Permission to cross-examine the witness, Your Honor?”
“Please proceed.”
He strode up to the witness stand and stood directly in front of Baca. His movements had suddenly grown a shade more aggressive than before, and he leaned in toward the deputy closer than seemed appropriate. He stared wordlessly until Baca began to squirm, and then he spoke.
“Deputy Sheriff Baca, did you take an oath before God to tell the truth before you took the stand?”
Immediately, Scowsen was up. “Objection! We all saw him take the oath.”
“Sustained,” said the judge.
Lightfeather held up the little book, which Nora now saw was a Bible. “Do you recognize this book?”
“Objection!” cried Scowsen, on his feet again. “Irrelevant!”
“Sustained,” said the judge again.
Lightfeather plowed on. “Deputy, do you consider yourself a Christian? Are you familiar with the Ten Commandments? One in particular seems important, perhaps life-altering, at the present moment: Thou shalt not bear false—”
But Scowsen was back on his feet. “Objection! Mr. Lightfeather is badgering the witness! Your Honor, can you please instruct defense counsel to confine his questions to the facts at hand? The witness’s religious views have nothing to do with the matter!”
The judge turned a stern eye on Lightfeather. “Mr. Lightfeather, I’m sustaining the objection. I would note it is the third such objection in a row I have sustained. You, sir, are out of line. One more irrelevant question like that and I will hold you in contempt of court. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Proceed.”
Lightfeather, seemingly shaken up by this, tried to compose himself, smoothing down his suit, running a hand over his hair. He took an inordinately long time, while the agitated Baca clasped and unclasped his hands.
Nora glanced again at Hawley. The bastard was still sitting there, a smug smile of contentment creasing his meatball face.
Then Lightfeather’s head snapped up. “Mr. Baca, sir, I have only one more question. But it is an important one. Your truthful answer to this question will determine the fate of this young man, Elwyn Kelly. But I want you to realize something else: your answer, as recorded in the greatest court of all, will bear on the fate of another person’s immortal soul—”
Scowsen leapt up, furious. “Objection! Objection! Your Honor, this is harassment, pure and simple. The defense is using these insinuations to threaten the witness!”
The judge banged his gavel. “Sustained! Mr. Lightfeather, I’m now holding you in contempt of court and fining you one thousand dollars.” Bang went the gavel again. “Now ask your final question sir, with no more commentary, and be done with it.” He turned to the jury. “You will disregard the entire line of Mr. Lightfeather’s previous questioning.”
Lightfeather looked at Baca for a long time. “My question is direct, it’s simple—and it’s profound. Mr. Baca, have you told us the truth?”
There was a long silence. Baca was still wringing his hands and seemed unable to speak. The deputy’s obvious anguish and his apparent inability to answer the question transfixed the courtroom. The tension in the room swiftly increased as Baca’s silence went on. Skip had lost his hopeless, resigned expression and was staring at the deputy. Nora herself could hardly breathe. Hawley was no longer smiling.
“Mr. Baca,” the judge urged. “The court is awaiting your answer.”
“No,” said Baca at last.
“You mean ‘no’ in what way, exactly, Mr. Baca?” Lightfeather asked gently.
“I mean no. I haven’t told the truth.”
“Would you like to take this opportunity to clear your conscience, before God, and tell the truth—here and now, in this court of law?”
“Objection! Objection!” Scowsen rose in another fury. “More threats and harassment, Your Honor!”
“Objection overruled,” said the judge. “The witness appears to have something to say, and it is this court’s duty to hear it.”
Baca was breathing hard. He struggled to get himself under control.
“Nora Kelly was in front,” he began, in a low, monotonal voice. “She was carrying the body. The brother was behind. The sheriff blocked her way. The brother started videotaping with his phone and the sheriff lunged at him, knocking down the sister in the process—”
“What the hell?” Hawley erupted, springing to his feet. “Baca, what are you doing?”
“Mr. Hawley.” The judge banged his gavel. “Sit down, sir, and cease disrupting the proceedings.”
“Baca, you little prick—”
Bang, bang went the gavel. “Sit down this instant or I will have you removed from this court, sir!” the judge said.
The sheriff continued standing and staring at Baca, swaying slightly, while the deputy stared back, his face a mask of anguish, sweating profusely.
“Sit down, sir!” the judge thundered.
The sheriff sat down and then muttered, in a voice loud enough to be heard across the courtroom, “You’ll pay for this, Baca.”
“I will not tolerate further disruption from you in my court!” said the judge. “Bailiffs, remove Mr. Hawley from the courtroom.”
Two bailiffs rose and came over to Hawley, positioning themselves on either side. Hawley was trembling all over and his face was dark red. They tried to take his arms, but he shrugged them off with a curse. “I’ll walk on my own,” he said.
They escorted him from the room, the sheriff turning his head and glaring balefully at Baca on the witness stand up until the moment the courtroom’s doors closed behind him.
“Mr. Lightfeather,” said the judge. “You may continue questioning the witness.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” He turned to Baca. “Now, I believe you were telling us the sheriff knocked down Nora Kelly, the defendant’s sister, is that correct?”
“Objection!” cried Scowsen. “This witness is totally unreliable, he’s lying, he’s confusing the jury—I call for a mistrial!”
“Overruled. May I remind you, Mr. Scowsen, that you called this witness, not the defense. There are no grounds for a mistrial. Mr. Baca, please continue with your answer to the question.”
“Yes, sir,” said Baca, his voice quavering. “She hit the ground pretty hard. That’s when the defendant grabbed and pushed down the sheriff.” His voice began to grow louder, more certain. “Also, the defendant didn’t run off. The sheriff took his phone and we arrested him. When we got back to the car, we locked him in the back. Then the sheriff erased the video as we were driving out.”
“What about the testimony you gave earlier?” said Lightfeather. “Where did that come from?”
“The sheriff coached me on what to say, how the story should play out.”
An electric silence fell in the courtroom.
“Thank you, Deputy Baca,” said Lightfeather. “No further questions.”
Scowsen jumped up. “Permission to examine the witness again, Your Honor.”
“You may do so.”
Scowsen turned and approached Baca. “So, Mr. Baca, it seems the jury has heard two different stories from you today. Are you now telling us that the first story was a lie?”
“Yes.”
“In other words, you are a self-admitted liar.”
“I guess so.”
“If that is the case, as a confessed liar, how do you expect the jury to believe this second story? Why not tell them a third story? Or a fourth?”
“All I can say is, I’m sorry for having lied. But now I’ve told the truth.”
“I see! And having lied once, having confessed to doing so, you now expect us to believe you?”
“I hope so.”
“And, I assume, you also hope the jury should believe your word over that of Sheriff Hawley, the trusted, honored, and duly elected sheriff of this community these past twenty years, who is a hero to everyone in Torrance County?”
“He’s no hero to me.”
Scowsen’s voice dripped with mock incredulity. “So you dare claim that the sheriff, who took a bullet in the line of duty, is not a hero?”
Scowsen’s obvious contempt seemed to stiffen Baca’s spine. “I think he’s a bully.”
Infuriated, Scowsen swiveled to the bench. “Your Honor, I object to the slandering of Sheriff Hawley’s good name! I ask that you sanction the witness for making such a statement!”
The judge returned Scowsen’s furious look with a weary one of his own. “Your objection is overruled. The witness’s statement of bullying is explanatory to his motive for committing perjury before this court.” He paused. “Do you have further questions for the witness?”
This response seemed to render Scowsen almost speechless. “Uh, no. No, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Baca, you are excused from the witness stand.”
Baca climbed down and stiffly made his way out of the courtroom.
Scowsen, after a moment of pure paralysis, finally mumbled to no one in particular that he was resting the people’s case. The judge called on Lightfeather to present his defense.
Lightfeather stood up. “I call Nora Kelly as a witness.”
Nora went up to the stand. She sat down, took the oath, and stated her name.
“Dr. Kelly,” Lightfeather said, “you heard Deputy Baca’s testimony. Both the first testimony and the second, which contradicted the first. Which is true?”
“The first was a lie, the second is the truth.”
“You saw your brother making the video?”
“Yes.”
“The sheriff knocked you down trying to stop him?”
“Yes. He hit me like a linebacker.”
“The sheriff testified that the ground was dangerously hard and stony, correct? So you might have been seriously injured?”
“Yes.”
“Were you in fact injured?”
“No. Actually, yes, I was. I got a scratch and a bruise—very similar to the injuries that sent the sheriff rushing to the emergency room.”
