Art wasn't happy. George seemed a bit relieved. Volont wasn't present, anyway, so it sure didn't bother him.
After a little flurry, we began again. I used the approach that had always worked best for me, especially with an opposing attorney present. I presented facts, and asked no questions. Kept either attorney from interrupting, and if Cletus wanted to say anything, the ball was in his court.
"Cletus," I said, "I'm just gonna tell you what I got. I'm not gonna ask any questions. I'd suggest you pipe down unless they" – and I nodded toward his defense team – "tell you to say something. That's what you pay them for."
I knew he'd never be able to do it, any more than I could have in his place. But, having said it, I was on pretty firm ground. I had also given my "sincere" shot to Gunston and Blitek, hopefully taking just a tiny bit of the edge off the adversary relationship.
"So, what happened was this…" And I started out with Fred dropping the cousins off. I went through every step, fairly quickly, but concisely and in a clipped near monotone. Well, I do have to admit getting a bit dramatic when I stood and showed how the two had been executed, with one pleading that they really weren't cops, in full view of his dead brother. But it did have the right effect.
"But the suspect shot 'em both, anyway," I said. "In your house. In your living room. Believing they were cops when he did it." I paused for effect. "In cold blood. With malice. First-degree murder."
I stopped. Silence. Cletus looked kind of sad, in fact. But not a word. Gunston was following very closely, but letting me run. He would. I represented great information, without his having to go through the discovery process. And I might make a mistake he could bring back to haunt me in court.
Blitek was another matter. "According to the common law, a free man is supreme in his castle. And any invited guest in his castle is the same person in right as the sovereign citizen."
Gibberish, but familiar gibberish. I now knew why Gunston hadn't been too happy with Blitek on the team.
"Yes?" I shouldn't have asked.
"Based upon that, the so-called 'warrant of arrest' which you presented to Mr. Cletus G. Borglan, freeman, is refused for cause without dishonor and without recourse to him, and need not be complied with because it is irregular, unauthorized, incomplete, and is a void process."
"We'll make a note," said Davies. "I'll file it under 'bullshit.' Now, let's get on with this."
"Under protest," said Blitek.
"Sure," said Davies, cheerfully.
I started up again. "Now, when you got to the farm, you remember what you did first? No, don't answer that. I'll tell you, because I was there. You announced in front of five cops and three agents that a couple of cops had been killed." He started to speak, but I held up my hand. "Just a minute. Wait. Don't say anything. It's gonna get a lot better."
I reached into the file. "I have a statement from a witness that says you got a phone call in Florida, about the time the two brothers got murdered. Says you were all concerned, and that you left the next morning for Iowa. Because of the call."
Cletus just was going to burst if he didn't say something. "Bullshit!"
Well, it wasn't much of a defense. But I think it made him feel a little better. Gunston put a hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, Cletus. He's going too far out on a limb now."
Blitek just looked startled. I assumed it was because he so seldom dealt with evidence.
"You know, that's just what I thought." I put on my reading glasses, and looked down at the paper I held in my hand. I looked at it for a second, and then looked at Cletus. I looked over the top of my glasses, without raising my head. "I thought, 'There ain't no way to prove that, that's just hearsay'" I stared over the top of those little glasses for all I was worth. Timing was everything.
"Until I got this," I said. "With this subpoena," I added. And I handed both documents to his real attorney, not to Cletus, not to Blitek. As Gunston looked at it, I said, "It's your phone bill, Cletus. A phone company record of the call being placed from your farm, to your place in Florida, just minutes after the Colson brothers were killed. In black and white."
Cletus was very pale. Gunston didn't look all that good, either. Silently, he passed the bill to his client. I thought Blitek was going to trip as he got up and stood behind Cletus, peering over his shoulder.
You could have heard a pin drop, as they say. I don't know how I ever did an interview before I got those glasses.
"You want to stop, or do you want me to give it all to you now?" I asked. Quietly. All for effect. They'd have gotten the phone bill on discovery, anyway.
Cletus looked up. "Go ahead," he said, in as close to a whisper as he could probably get. I looked at Gunston. He nodded. Nothing to lose, there. Besides, I think he was really curious. Blitek I ignored.
"We've been following Gabriel for years," I said. Call it a white lie. "We" as in "We the People…"
That was when Cletus surprised me. He turned to the side, and threw up on the floor.
17
Nothing like heaving on the floor to bring a party up short. We made Cletus clean up his own mess. Jail rules. Got him a damp cloth for his forehead. He was all quivery for a few minutes.
"Tell me the truth, now," said Davies to Gunston. "You trained him to do that, right?"
Gunston wasn't particularly amused, and told us that the interview was over. We'd abused his client for the last time. We were Nazis. Truth was, he was running up his tab.
Cletus had other ideas. "Just stay with me, here, will ya, Ray? I gotta explain here. I gotta."
"Be careful," said Blitek. "Think about what you say. I can't caution you strongly enough… be careful."
An attorney who got $25.00 an hour probably would have said it wasn't worth it. Ray Gunston, who was closer to $2,500.00 an hour, let the clock run.
Cletus did the only thing he could, as far as trying to exculpate himself. He told us that he'd been snookered in, was afraid of Gabriel, and didn't know how to get out of the matter. He also explained something that had been making me wonder ever since we did the crime scene.
"He wanted to use the computers in the house while we were gone," he said. "He calls it 'distributed computation,' or something."
"'Distributed computing,'" I said. "Sure. Put a bunch of little computers on big problem. Use their time, then put it together at the end."
"Yeah. Tied in with a bunch of other equipment. All over the country."
"For what?" I was curious.
"You'll see," he said. Right. I got the solid impression that he didn't know, either. I stopped with that line right there. Distributed computing was all we'd need to know to get some smarter cops on it. But I really wanted to get hold of those computers.
Cletus said that he just thought that Gabriel would use the house while they were gone. Then be out of there before they got back. No problems. No troubles. No complications except a bit of an electric bill.
Mostly true, I thought. Easy to make up, hard to disprove. He was only telling us what was supposedly in his own mind. No way to prove it either way. Then he interjected something into the rather standard tale of woe that led me to believe him.
"I thought they had to be cops, too. Feds. I thought he was right. I thought you were all lying to cover up the Feds."