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He stepped back and said, “Now, imagine the burden of not being able to clear your name, of being found innocent in a criminal trial, only to be tried again in a civil court. Ladies and gentlemen, this is not O.J. Simpson’s trial. Agent Hunter Kincaid is not O. J. Simpson. The members of the criminal trial jury didn’t miss anything, and I am sure neither will you. We will show, by facts and evidence, not hysteria and emotion that a terrible thing happened that day, and a man lost his life…but it was not the fault of Agent Kincaid, who acted with professionalism and competence in upholding our nation’s laws. Thank you.”
Truman sat down beside Hunter and said under his breath, “I feel like Quasimodo following Prince Charming in a kissing contest.”
Ronald called the widow Garcia to the stand, bringing out the emotional big gun first, and with a court interpreter, elicited her story. It was all Hunter could do not to roll her eyes as the widow sprayed tears and shuddering words at every question, whether it had to do with her marriage, her life, or the shooting. According to the widow, Julian Garcia had been a charming rogue, a victim of circumstances, headed down the wrong road until they met and fell in love. She changed him into an honest, hard working man who got involved in crime one last time simply to make enough money to give them a fresh start. Ronald coaxed her with questions and she responded like a trained pet, saying her husband was never violent, had liked children and animals,… why, she had seen him try to nurse a sparrow with a broken wing back to health and cry like a baby when it died.
Hunter broke the pencil in her hand with that one.
The widow finished by saying she had never, ever, in all the ten years of their perfect, beautiful marriage, seen Julian Garcia with a gun. She was positive, may God strike her down if she was lying, that Julian did not have a pistol the day La Tejana shot him.
Ronald said, “By La Tejana, you mean the defendant, Hunter Kincaid?”
She pointed, “Yes, sitting right there. The woman of the song.”
Truman didn’t attack her. He carried a copy of an arrest report to the witness stand and asked, “Is this your husband?” She glared at him, then looked at the photo on the paper.
“Yes,” She said through the interpreter.
Truman walked to the jury and held up the paper, “This is the arrest report on Julian Garcia. Mr. Garcia was arrested, six months before his death, for murdering an eight year old boy.”
“Objection,” said Ronald, “Mr. Fortis is trying to prejudice the jury. Mr. Garcia was never brought to court on that charge.”
“Sustained,” said Judge Pelham, “Jury will disregard.”
Truman didn’t miss a beat. “Mrs. Garcia, during the year since the shooting, have you had many visitors?”
“Some, yes.”
“Male visitors?”
She looked at Ronald, who nodded to her, “Yes, a few.”
Truman said, “I will now show some slides on the large screen on the wall, and would you please tell me who the people are.” Truman gave the signal and the lights lowered. The projected images were large, clear and in color. Young men, wearing open shirts and gold chains, at the Garcia residence.
“They are my cousins,” she said, not using the interpreter.
Truman had a half-dozen more slides shown, each with a different man. “More cousins, I have many cousins.”
The next photo showed one of the young men and Mrs. Garcia in a passionate embrace, mouths together, bodies pressed to each other, and the young man’s hands grasping her buttocks. Someone in the jury box snickered. T
ruman asked, “You and your cousins are very close, aren’t you?”
Raymond said, “Objection, your Honor! Mrs. Garcia is not on trial here!”
Judge Pelham said, “Mr. Fortis, where are you going with this?”
“Your Honor, I’m not trying to disparage Mrs. Garcia. I simply wanted to show a somewhat different picture of the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Garcia. If you will allow me, I have only two more items to show with the projector and I will be finished with Mrs. Garcia.”
Judge Pelham thought a moment, “Proceed, Mr. Fortis, but I warn you, you are on thin ice.”
“Thank you, your Honor,” Truman motioned to the person on the projector and said, “Remove the tag, please.”
The dark stripe at the bottom left corner of the image was removed, revealing a date. Truman said, “The date you see is the date the photograph was taken by DEA. You will note that it is only two days after the shooting of Julian Garcia.” There were sounds of movement in the jury box. “Last slide, please,” said Truman. The final image was of the same young man standing close, facing Mrs. Garcia. It was a side shot and showed Mrs. Garcia handing him a package of what appeared to be white powder wrapped in clear plastic. The package was the size of a hardback book. The date in the corner of the image was two days before the shooting. A murmur passed through the jury as they looked at the rest of the large projection and noticed one of the young man’s hands was on Mrs. Garcia’s cheek. She was sucking his thumb.
“No further questions,” said Truman and he sat down as the lights came up.
“I bet they don’t consider her the Madonna after that,” Truman whispered to Hunter.
“What about her claiming the song was true, you didn’t ask her about that?”
