Tribal Court (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 2) Page 15

  "Who does?"

  Another smile at the jurors. "The jury."

  "And so," Talon confirmed, "it's possible to have a homicide which is not a murder."

  One more smile. "Absolutely."

  Wow, Brunelle thought as he pretended to be taking notes. She really does hate me.

  Talon paused, allowing the response to linger in the air.

  "Okay, second thing," she said. "You deal with physical injuries, and in particular, physical injuries that cause death, correct?"

  Kat frowned in consideration. "Yes, that's correct."

  "And physical injuries that cause death, those never heal, do they?"

  Kat thought for a moment. "I suppose that's true, with the possible exception of a serious, but initially survivable injury that begins to heal before the person eventually succumbs to it. But yes, generally speaking, a fatal wound, by definition, ceases all of the body's functions, including healing."

  Talon nodded. "There are emotional wounds that never heal either, aren't there, doctor?"

  "Objection." Brunelle said before he could stop himself. He rarely objected because objecting was like turning to the jury and screaming, 'Ouch! This really hurts my case.' But the question was so outrageous—and unexpected—he just reacted.

  "Objection overruled," Judge LeClair without even asking for a response from Talon. "You may answer," he told Kat.

  Kat turned and stared right into Brunelle's eyes. "Yes. Yes, there are."

  Talon pushed her hair over her shoulder and moved in for the kill. Brunelle could see it in her eyes. And they both knew he wasn't going to object again.

  "And finally, Dr. Anderson, you know what George Traver did to my client's niece, don't you?"

  Kat nodded. "Yes, I know."

  "You have a daughter, don't you, doctor?"

  Fuck. How does she know that?...Three steps ahead.

  "Yes," Kat took a moment to reply. "Yes, I do."

  "Can you blame Johnny for what he did?"

  Kat sat silently for a several seconds. She looked down and her mouth screwed into a knot. Without looking up, she answered. "No. No, I can't."

  Talon waited for a moment, nodding at the response she'd elicited. "Thank you for your candor, doctor. No further questions."

  The judge waited a few more seconds before asking, "Any re-direct, Mr. Brunelle?"

  No fucking way. "No, Your Honor."

  "You are excused," Judge LeClair told Kat. Then he addressed the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will take a fifteen minute recess before the next witness."

  Brunelle was glad for the break, but he knew it wasn't going to get any better. After Kat stormed out without a word to him and the jury closed the jury room door behind them, Talon stepped over.

  "Who's next?" she asked.

  Brunelle grimaced. "Caitlyn's mom."

  Chapter 38

  "The prosecution calls Stacy Quilcene."

  All eyes turned to the doorway. Brunelle pushed it open to gesture for the mother of Traver's victim to enter the courtroom. She had dressed up in a blouse and skirt—the kind of thing someone might wear to church or a job interview. But there was no mistaking it, she was a mother. The only reason she hadn't killed Traver is that her brother did it first.

  Unfortunately, Brunelle needed to call her in his case, but it was a calculated risk. She would prove the motive. But, his opening statement notwithstanding, the last thing he wanted was for her to connect with the jury. They were already going to feel inclined to walk Quilcene based on what he had done. He didn't need them to feel like they owed an acquittal to Stacy—or Caitlyn.

  So it would be fast.

  "Please state your name for the record."

  "Stacy Quilcene."

  "How are you related to the defendant?"

  "He's my brother."

  "Do you have a daughter named Caitlyn?"

  "Yes. I have three kids. Caitlyn's my baby."

  Great. The baby. If he hadn't been sure of his course of action before, he was then.

  "Caitlyn was molested, right?"

  The question was so brash, so matter-of-fact, it stunned Stacy for a moment. "Er, yes. That's correct."

  "And the man who molested her, that was George Traver?"

  Stacy narrowed her momma-bear eyes and replied through gritted teeth. "Yes. George Traver molested my little baby girl."

  Technically, Stacy's knowledge of what happened to her daughter was hearsay. She wasn't present for it; she couldn't have been—she never would have allowed it. So whatever she knew about it, she learned from other people, like Caitlyn. Hearsay was usually inadmissible, but there were too many exceptions to count, including a very specific statute on statements made by child victims of sexual assault. One way or another, the story was coming in. But he didn't want details. He wanted motive.

  "Did you tell your brother what Traver did to Caitlyn?"

  "Damn right I did."

  "And what did he do?"

  "He killed that mother fucker."

  Brunelle nodded. "Thank you. Ms. Quilcene. No further questions."

  Talon stood up. This was the dangerous part. Brunelle had avoided details, but he knew Talon wanted them out and to the jury. He'd kept his direct short enough that he might be able to object to details as 'beyond the scope' of his questions. But Judge LeClair hadn't helped him on any of his objections so far, and anyway, what few questions he did ask—specifically the fact that Caitlyn had in fact been molested—probably opened the door to Talon going into the heart-wrenching details.

  So Brunelle was stunned, and delighted, when Talon announced, "No questions, Your Honor."

  But his delight evaporated when she went on to explain, "We'll be calling Ms. Quilcene in our case-in-chief."

  Damn.

  Brunelle hated it when defendant's actually put on a case. More often than not, they just sat there, hiding behind the burden of proof. But he should have known Talon would do the best thing possible: tell her story, through her own witnesses, when it was her turn. Not piecemeal on cross-examination in the middle of his case.

  The only good news was that it let Brunelle present his case interrupted. He just had to hope that by the time Talon got around to putting on her evidence, the jury would already be leaning his way.

  Which made O'Brien's testimony critical.

  Chapter 39

  O'Brien went full professor for his testimony. Brunelle wished he hadn't. Khakis, cream turtleneck, and tweed jacket. With patches on the elbows, of course. And the glasses. Add in the swept back curls and he was ready to give a lecture to a hundred college kids.

  Brunelle knew the jury hated him already.

  "William O'Brien," he replied to the standard first question of identifying himself. "Ph.D."

  Adding his degree wasn't going to help.

  "How are you employed, sir?" Brunelle asked next. He decided not to call him 'doctor.'

  "I am a professor of Native American studies at the University of Washington."

  That sentence, in that tone, in that court, with those jurors and that gallery, made O'Brien look even whiter than Brunelle.

  Brunelle pressed on, drawing out O'Brien's credentials: his years of teaching experience, his awards and published articles, and his general expertise on things Native American. Then he got to the meat of the matter.

  "Are you familiar with a cultural phenomenon known as 'blood revenge'?"

  The question seemed to wake the jury up again after the nap-inducing recitation of degrees and recognitions.

  "Yes," O'Brien answered. "I am very familiar with the tradition of blood revenge."

  And here we go.

  "Could you please tell the jury what blood revenge is?"

  "Well," O'Brien turned slightly toward the jury but also tried to look at Brunelle. He obviously hadn't testified much. "The first thing to understand is that the notion of blood revenge is not unique to Native American culture. Indeed, there is no such thing as a single Native American culture. Th
ere are hundreds of nations and tribes all over North and South America, each with their own—"

  "Professor?" Brunelle interrupted.

  "Yes?" O'Brien was a bit taken aback by the interruption. Brunelle guessed his lectures seldom included question and answer sessions.

  "We'll get to all that," Brunelle said. "But first, can you please just tell the jury what blood revenge is? Then we can discuss its significance and prevalence."

  "Ah, yes." O'Brien nodded. "Right. Sorry."

  He turned fully to the jury this time. "Blood revenge is the killing of one tribe or family member in retaliation for the death of someone in one's own tribe at the hands of a member of the offending tribe."

  "Is this sort of killing supposed to settle the score then?" Brunelle explained for the jurors.

  "If accepted by both tribes, then yes, the blood revenge killing will balance the scales and life as normal may proceed."

  Brunelle nodded. Stage one complete. On to stage two.

  "So what is a blood feud?" he asked.

  O'Brien thought for a moment. "A blood feud is what happens when the blood revenge killing is not accepted by the tribe against whom the revenge is targeted. They do not accept it as a settling of the score and follow up with a blood revenge killing of their own. This can lead to a potentially endless cycle of retaliation and killing. In fact," he took off his glasses, "it was exactly this sort of out of control blood feuding which likely led to the Iroquois Confederacy in the Northeast—"

  "Okay, thank you, professor," Brunelle interrupted again. "Let's try to keep things local."

  O'Brien forced a smile. He was obviously used to getting to speak uninterrupted. "All right then."

  "Are you familiar with the custom of Northwest tribes regarding blood revenge?"

  "Yes," O'Brien replied. "I received my doctorate from the University of Iowa, and so my dissertation was on marriage customs in agrarian Plains tribes, but I am familiar with most cultural aspects of most Native tribes."

  Great.

  "Okay," Brunelle pressed on quickly. He checked Talon out of the corner of his eye, in case she might try to challenge O'Brien's qualifications. But she was just listening and taking notes. When she noticed Brunelle glancing at her, she smiled and gestured for him to continue.

  That meant she had a use for O'Brien on cross exam.

  Double great.

  "So, was blood revenge practiced by Northwest coastal tribes?" Brunelle asked.

  "Yes." O'Brien turned to the jury. He was learning. "Yes, it was."

  "And was it the same practice you described earlier?" Brunelle confirmed. "One member of a tribe is killed, so that tribe is allowed to kill a member of the other clan to settle the score?"

  "Well, you see," O'Brien took off the glasses again, "it's not just that the offended tribe was allowed to commit the blood revenge killing. They were expected to do it. In fact, in a way, they had a duty to do it."

  O'Brien stopped, perhaps getting used to being cut off by Brunelle. But this was where Brunelle wanted O'Brien to show off his knowledge, so he just nodded and said, "Go on."

  "Yes, well, as I was saying." He turned again to the jury. Brunelle could see the academic was enjoying his captive audience. "The offended tribe—the one whose member was killed in the first place—had an obligation to carry out the blood revenge killing, even if perhaps they were reluctant to do so. You see, the practice was not terribly unlike our modern criminal justice system. The justifications usually put forward for criminalization and incarceration are deterrence and retaliation. It was no different with blood revenge. Knowing that one of your own will be killed if you kill one of theirs serves to keep you from killing one of theirs in the first place. It helps discourage both intentional killings and recklessness that might lead to a death. But that deterrence breaks down if there is doubt as to whether the blood revenge killing will actually be carried out."

  Brunelle nodded along. Stage two complete. Time for stage three.

  "Were there ever instances when something less than a killing could be accepted as payment for the first killing?"

  O'Brien rubbed his hands together. "Oh, yes. As you can imagine, the death of anyone is tragic, but practically speaking, it can also be quite disruptive to the economic wellbeing of a tribe that needed every member to help it make it through another hunting season or harvest. That was part of the reason for the deterrence. Few tribes could afford to lose very many members that way. So sometimes the offended clan would accept a monetary payment rather than blood revenge: foodstuffs, skins, et cetera. This paid—at least in part—for the economic impact of the loss of the tribal member, and the other clan was still deterred by the payment. They were willing to pay it because it might pale in comparison to the impact of losing a member of their own tribe."

  Final stage.

  "So, to summarize," Brunelle said, "if a member of one tribe was killed, then and only then was it okay to kill a member of the killer's tribe?"

  "Er, yes." O'Brien frowned. "That's a bit simplistic, but basically it."

  Brunelle managed a smile at the response.

  "And the the blood revenge killing was both expected and accepted by both tribes?"

  "More or less," O'Brien answered. "There was an expectation that it would be carried out."

  "But sometimes, the offended tribe could allow the offending clan to pay the debt with something other than another killing."

  "Correct." O'Brien nodded. "If the offended tribe so chose."

  One last point, then sit down without ever suggesting that child molestation couldn't justify a murder. That was the obvious argument. But he'd save that for closing, lest O'Brien soft sell it like he did at the café.

  "Professor, I believe you were about to say that this practice of blood revenge and blood feuds became such a problem that some tribes actually confederated together in order to eliminate the us versus them upon which the practice was based."

  "Yes, that's true."

  "So it sounds like, if some tribes would rather have received payment than revenge, and other tribes abandoned the practice altogether, maybe it wasn't such a great thing after all?"

  O'Brien shook his head. "I wouldn't say that. It served a purpose."

  "But that purpose has passed, hasn't it, professor?"

  O'Brien considered for a moment. "Yes, I would say that it has."

  "Thank you." Brunelle stepped toward his counsel table. "No further questions."

  He sat down, happy with how his direct had gone. He knew Talon would score points on cross, but he'd scored what points he needed. O'Brien's words were like weapons thrown onto the coliseum sand for the gladiators to pick up and use in closing argument. He didn't need O'Brien to say specifically that Traver needed to consent to the blood revenge, he'd just argue that in closing based on what O'Brien did say.

  "Cross examination, Ms. Winter?" the judge asked.

  Talon stood up and flashed her predatory smile. "Absolutely, Your Honor. But I'll be brief."

  Brunelle suppressed a wince. 'Brief' meant 'focused.' And focused cross was always the most effective.

  "Hello, Professor O'Brien," Talon sidled up to the witness stand. All smiles. Like a big cat, warm and fuzzy—claws hidden from her prey. "You seem to be quite the expert on these matters."

  O'Brien smiled too. "Well, I do have a doctorate."

  Just in case the jury had forgotten to hate him. Brunelle sighed to himself.

  "Yes," Talon agreed. "I was going to ask you about that. This is all an academic exercise for you, isn't it?"

  Oh, fuck. O'Brien didn't know what was about to hit him, but Brunelle did.

  "I'm not quite sure I follow you," O'Brien replied.

  "Well, let's approach it a different way," Talon said. "Based on your research, do you feel comfortable saying that blood revenge was limited to a killing in retaliation for a killing, not something less?"

  O'Brien removed his glasses again and pointed them at Talon. "You know, Mr. Brunelle
and I discussed that very matter the first time we met."

  "Oh, did you now?" Talon turned and smiled at Brunelle. He nodded in return but otherwise maintained his poker face. "And tell me, what did the two of you discuss?"

  "Well, it was very interesting." Again the hand-rubbing. "We discussed whether something like what happened here—the sexual assault of a child—could rise to the level of authorizing a blood revenge killing."

  "How interesting," Talon said. "What did you decide?"

  O'Brien frowned and turned back to the jury. "It's actually a very complicated question," he said. "You see, sexual mores and the roles of women and children were quite different from what we might expect today—"

  "Excuse me, professor." Talon's voice cut through the room. "Are you saying my ancestor's condoned the molestation and rape of children?"

  Brunelle was impressed. Obviously a well-rehearsed trap. And O'Brien walked right into it.

  The professor's face flushed. "Uh, well… I don't mean that exactly. It's just that… Um… Things were different."

  "And you know that from reading books?"

  "Well, yes. That and—"

  "And what, professor?" Talon cut in. "No, wait. Let me ask you a different question."

  "Uh, okay," O'Brien said meekly. The blood was draining from his face, leaving blotches at his ears and neck.

  "You're here to tell this jury what their culture is, correct?"

  O'Brien's eyebrows knitted together. "I don't think that's a fair characterization of—"

  "You don't have a drop of Indian blood, do you, Professor O'Brien?"

  He grimaced. "Er, no. As you said, my last name is O'Brien. I'm mostly Irish and German, with some other stuff thrown in."

  "Other stuff, but no Native American, right?" Talon confirmed.

  "Well," O'Brien started.

  Don't, thought Brunelle. Just don't. But it was too late.

  "There's a family legend," O'Brien offered, "that we've got Blackfoot somewhere back on my mom's side, but nothing I can prove."

  "I see." Talon nodded. "Just the White Man wishing he had a bit of the exotic and noble savage coursing through his veins, huh?"