“So you believe he’s telling the truth?”
“I believe he experienced a deep and personal trauma. Whether it was because of Sergeant Orgwell or someone else, I can’t be sure.”
“You could’ve called me. Left a message with Miss Kim.”
“She seems like a nice woman.”
“She is.”
“But I wanted to tell you myself.”
“I’m glad you did. I want to see you again.”
She rose from the bed and stepped toward me. “Name the time and place,” she said.
After the recess, Second Lieutenant Conroy walked forward like a kid about to deliver an oral report in front of the class. He swallowed hard and then started to talk.
“Let the record show,” he said, “that we will offer testimony that the defendant Private First Class Clinton Threets of Charley Battery of the Second of the Seventeenth Field Artillery Battalion was subject to harassment and homosexual assault that resulted in severe mental stress and . . .”
The presiding officer banged his gavel.
“Lieutenant Conroy, you were informed during the pre-trial proceedings that these unfounded allegations were not going to be allowed into my courtroom.”
“Yes, sir, but . . .”
“Not buts about it. I’m not going to allow this trial to be used to smear the reputation of an outstanding senior NCO with a long-standing record of excellent job performance. Now, if you plan to get into training or discipline issues, then that could be considered.” In the stands, the Gunslinger squirmed. “But only if you’re planning on presenting the court with concrete evidence.”
“Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Conroy’s head drooped and he walked back to the defense table. He glanced at Ernie and me desperately, knowing that he couldn’t call us to the stand to testify about Threets’s allegations of assault or Sergeant Orgwell’s violent reaction to those allegations. There was no doubt that Threets had shot Orgwell; Lieutenant Mendelson’s prosecution case had established that beyond a reasonable doubt, so without mitigating circumstances, the defense case was pretty much blown to smithereens. There was only one thing left for Conroy to do.
“If it please the court,” he said, “I call the accused, Private First Class Clifton Threets, to the stand.”
“So ordered,” the presiding judge said.
Threets rose from his chair and, still in shackles, shuffled forward. Quickly, he was read the oath by the clerk of court, said “I do,” and took his seat on the witness stand.
The whole questioning process was painful. Conroy was nervous and Threets’s voice was hollow and barely audible. One kept longing for a grown-up to take over. Still, the two young men did manage to present the pertinent testimony. Threets had just started to tell of how he was called into the day room by SFC Orgwell when Lieutenant Mendelson sprang to her feet to object.
“Your Honor,” she said, “this is the very hearsay evidence that you said you would not allow into your courtroom.”
The judge thought about it. “I won’t allow it as hearsay evidence. But as direct testimony from the accused, I will allow it. He has a right to testify in his own defense. However, the court will consider the self-serving nature of such testimony.”
Which was sort of like saying to Threets, you can tell us your side of the story, but don’t expect us to believe you.
Ernie sneered. “The judge is just afraid of getting overturned on appeal.”
Threets continued his testimony.
In the day room, Threets was being given solo counseling and had been told what an outstanding soldier he was when SFC Orgwell started to touch him.
The crowd murmured in indignation. Threets lowered his head. When the murmuring subsided, Lieutenant Conroy prodded him to continue.
When Threets objected to Sergeant Orgwell’s advances, there was a brief shouting match. They wrestled for a while, but eventually Threets shoved Orgwell away and escaped from the room. Later, it played on his mind. Who was this senior NCO to try to take advantage of him like that? What if Orgwell told Threets’s buddies? What if he tried it again? What if word got out and people thought Threets had gone along with it?
“Would you say,” Lieutenant Conroy asked, “that you held a grudge against Sergeant Orgwell?”
“Yes,” Threets replied. “It plays on my mind, all day, all night. Pretty soon, that’s all I can think about.”
“And then you went to the range?”
“He was there.” Involuntarily, Threets glanced at the wounded SFC Orgwell seated in the stands. “And he smiled at me.”
“What did you think when he smiled at you?”
“I couldn’t take it. He act like him and me, we got a secret. We don’t. I couldn’t take it.”
“What did you do?”
“I shot him.” Threets shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done it, but I did.” Threets sat up straighter and stared right at Orgwell. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but you shoulda left me alone.”
Using an aluminum crutch, Orgwell stood up. “He’s lying!” he yelled. “I never touched him! I never invited him into the day room! He shot me because I’m white and he’s black!”
The presiding officer pounded his gavel and shouted, “Order!”
Someone next to Orgwell stood and grabbed his shoulders and tried to calm him down. When Orgwell sat back down, the presiding officer asked Lieutenant Conroy if he had any further questions of the witness. When he said he didn’t, Conroy took his seat and the prosecutor, Lieutenant Peggy Mendelson, approached Threets.
“Private Threets,” she asked, “how long have you been in the army?”
Hanging his head, Threets mumbled something.
“What? Speak up for the court, please.”
Threets sat up straighter and said. “Two years, almost.”
“And during that two years, did your training include any information about the chain of command?”
Threets nodded.
Peggy Mendelson sighed and addressed the court. “Sir, would you please instruct the accused that he needs to answer the questions verbally, not with head nodding.”
The presiding officer did. Lieutenant Mendelson asked the question again, and Threets acknowledged that he had received training concerning the chain of command.
“And Private Threets, who is your immediate supervisor?”
“Sergeant Rohmer.”
“And who’s he?”
“My gun crew chief.”
“Did you inform Sergeant Rohmer about the incident with Sergeant Orgwell?”
Threets shook his head negatively.
“Out loud, please,” Lieutenant Mendelson said.
“No,” Threets responded.
“And in your chain of command, who is above Sergeant Rohmer?”
“First Sergeant Bolton.”
“And did you inform First Sergeant Bolton about your disagreement with Sergeant Orgwell?”
Again Threets said he hadn’t.
Lieutenant Mendelson continued on like this, asking Threets about his battery commanding officer and the battalion CO and so on, until finally she said, “So you never attempted to resolve your problem by using the chain of command, did you, Private Threets?”
“No,” he replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t listen to us.”
“They don’t listen to you, meaning lower-ranking soldiers?”
“No. I mean they don’t listen to us black soldiers. They don’t give a damn about us.”
“Objection!”
Everyone in the court started at the strong command voice, and all heads swiveled. General Kokol, the Gunslinger, was red faced and on his feet. “That’s not true! The chain of command works. I see to it personally that it works and I make damn sure that our black soldiers are treated fairly.”
The presiding officer banged his gavel, then pointed it like a weapon at the Gunslinger. “General Kokol, with all due respect to your rank, you are to please refrain from interrupting these proceedings.”