Tribal Court (20 page)

Chapter 43

There was no good way to cross examine the mother of a child molestation victim.

Brunelle knew Talon called her first because her whole case was built on painting him and O'Brien and Chen and Kat and everyone else as outsiders. As people who just didn't understand. Or, more importantly, didn't care.

So, while there was a definite value to the defense in the information Talon would elicit during her direct examination, the real prize for Talon would lay in Brunelle's vigorous and heartless cross examination of the broken-hearted mother of the real victim in the case.

"Please remind the jury," Talon started as Stacy sat in the witness chair, "who you are and how you're related to the case."

"Stacy Quilcene," she answered, her demeanor at once more relaxed and more sympathetic than when Brunelle had called her. "My brother is the defendant. My daughter was molested by George Traver."

"I'm sorry for that," Talon said.

Stacy looked down. "Thank you."

Brunelle managed not to roll his eyes. It was a nice touch—likely rehearsed. He thought it was maybe a bit too much. But he would have done the same thing.

"When did you tell your brother," Talon moved on, "about what happened to Caitlyn?"

"Right after she told me," Stacy answered, starting to tear up already. "I— I was just so shocked. I had to tell someone, so I called Johnny. He's the one we all call if we need something. He takes care of us."

With money his gang makes selling drugs and chopping cars
, Brunelle thought. He jotted a note about that. Just because he wasn't going to defend Traver's character didn't mean he couldn't attack Quilcene's.

"How did Johnny react when you told him?"

Stacy shook her head. "He was great. He reacted just right, you know? The first thing he did was check on Caitlyn. He told her he loved her and it wasn't her fault."

"Good for him," Talon said.

Wow
. Brunelle decided not to object to Talon's commentary. He wanted to, but he knew the jury would think he was being mean.

"Did Johnny mention anything about confronting Traver, or settling the score, or anything like that?"

"Not at first, no. His first concern was Caitlyn. Then me. I was a wreck. I couldn't stop crying. I'd failed my baby. I let this happen. I was supposed to protect her and I didn't."

Then she totally lost it. Deep, loud sobs filled the courtroom as Stacy's pain and guilt spilled out for all to see.

"Do you need a moment?" Talon asked.

But Stacy couldn't even respond. Brunelle expected the judge to call a recess for her to compose herself, but he didn't. They just sat there, listening to the wails of a broken mother until she could calm down enough to speak again.

Talon handed her some tissue and waited patiently until Stacy finally stopped crying—audibly, at least—and wiped her nose, and squeaked, "I'm sorry, I think I can go on."

"Don't be sorry," Talon replied. "Don't ever be sorry. It wasn't your fault. It  was Traver's fault."

"Objection, Your Honor," Brunelle finally felt compelled to say. "Counsel keeps commenting on the testimony, rather than asking questions."

LeClair frowned. "I'm going to allow some leeway, given the nature of the testimony. But do try to limit your comments, Ms. Winter."

"Yes, Your Honor," Talon replied. "I am trying."

Brunelle sat down again, not sure whether that exchange had helped or hurt him.
Poor Talon. She just can't help but care. Puke
.

"So Johnny took care of Caitlyn and he took care of you," Talon reminded the jury. "Did he call anyone?"

"Y-yes," Stacy sniffled. "He called the cops."

"Did they come out and take a report?"

"Yeah, like two days later," Stacy practically spat. "Some detective who told us that they'd never be able to prove it because Caitlyn was too young to testify. He was real jerk. Some old guy with a mustache a bunch of stripes down his sleeve. He said we should have taken her to the hospital right away for a rape exam, but it was too late now. But if they'd told us that when Johnny called, instead of waiting two days, we would have done that."

"So the police weren't very helpful then?"

"Hell no."

"Was it the tribal police?"

"Yeah," Stacy answered. "'Cause it happened on the reservation."

"Did they refer it to the Tacoma Police or the Pierce County Sheriff's Department?"

"They didn't refer it to anyone." Stacy shook her head, her teeth clenched. "Johnny had to call again a week later. They told him Traver had stopped registering, they didn't know where he was, and there was nothing more they could do."

"And is that when Johnny decided to go find Traver?"

"I guess so." Stacy nodded. "He told me he was going to find the man who did that to Caitlyn and make things right."

"Did he explain what he meant by 'make things right'?"

"Nope," Stacy said. "And I didn't ask."

Talon nodded, as if she hadn't already heard this story a half-dozen times. "Did he show you anything before he left?"

Stacy sniffled again and offered a quiet, "Yes." She knew what the next question was going to be.

Talon nodded to the bailiff and he extracted the cardboard box from its secure location under his desk. Talon took it and opened it for Stacy to see inside. It was the knife, already admitted into evidence during Brunelle's case-in-chief.

"Is this what he showed you?"

"Yes," Stacy answered. "That's my grandpa's knife.
Our
grandpa's knife. He carved the handle himself."

"So it holds special significance for your family?"

"Oh yes." Stacy turned to the jury to explain. "When grandpa died, we kept it in a special box. Our family doesn't have much, but that knife was special."

Talon nodded. She shifted gears, ever so slightly. "Do you know whether Johnny usually carried a weapon?"

"Oh no," Stacy was quick to reply.

Of course not
, Brunelle thought sarcastically.
What self-respecting gang member would ever carry a weapon?

"I mean," Stacy continued, "he knows some people who do carry—"

Fellow NGBs.

"—but not Johnny."

"Okay," Talon summarized. "So after you told him what Traver did to Caitlyn, and after the police said they weren't going to do anything, that's when Johnny—who doesn't normally carry a weapon—took your grandfather's ceremonial knife and said he was going to confront Traver and make things right?"

"Yes."

"No further questions."

Talon sat down and Judge LeClair glared down at Brunelle. "Any cross examination?" he practically challenged.

Brunelle stood up.

Your brother is a member of the Native Gangster Bloods street gang, isn't that correct?

He is more than accustomed to violence, right?

He didn't know anything about some ancient rite of blood revenge, did he?

He was just angry and wanted to hurt the man who'd hurt his niece, right?

"No questions, Your Honor. Thank you."

He sat down again.

There was no good way to cross examine the mother of a child molestation victim.

Chapter 44

"Joseph Red Deer," Talon's expert smiled to the jury. He was central casting for Native American academic. Tall, not skinny but not fat, deep skin tone, and black hair pulled back into a pony tail and just beginning to gray at the temples.

"Where do you work, Mr. Red Deer?" Talon asked from her spot in the attorney well.

"I am the assistant director of the Northwest Native American Museum in Kelso, Washington."

"And in that capacity, are you familiar with the customs and traditions of the Northwest coastal tribes?"

"In that capacity and also personally," he nodded. "I am a member of the Quinault Nation."

"Are you familiar with a specific tradition known as blood revenge?"

"Yes," Red Deer told the jury with a subdued smile. "I am."

"Please tell us about it."

And so he did. It wasn't materially different from anything O'Brien had said. That was important. If it had been, then Brunelle would have needed to cross examine him hard on the differences. But it was basically the same. And really, it should have been. O'Brien wasn't lying. He was just white. And more importantly, he was called by the prosecution, so the defense felt the need to call a competing expert. Except that when the defense expert agreed with the prosecution expert, there wasn't much competition. Still, Brunelle listened patiently. He knew exactly where their opinions would diverge. Everyone agreed blood revenge existed. They just disagreed about whether it still applied. Or should.

"So let me ask you this," Talon sharpened her focus as she neared the end of her examination. "I'd like you to assume that the jurisdiction for this prosecution is based on the 1854 Treaty of Medicine Creek between the Duwallup Nation and the United States government. I'd like you to further assume that because of that, we are applying Duwallup tribal law at the time of the adoption of the treaty."

"All right," Red Deer answered slowly, as if Talon hadn't completely scripted this and likely even rehearsed it with him a few times.

"Was blood revenge the law at the time the treaty was adopted in 1854?"

Red Deer
nodded thoughtfully. "Now, you see. Even that question fails to properly understand Native tradition."

A smile curled in the corner of Talon's mouth. "Please explain."

"Well, you asked me if that was the law, but the question assumes that Native cultures passed and adopted laws like contemporaneous European cultures. In fact, tradition and custom played a far greater role in Native cultures than they did in European-based societies. European elites have a long tradition of passing laws in order to break traditions—to overpower cultural norms through legislative fiat and punishment. Indeed, Native cultures across the world have been the subject of such efforts by European colonists who outlaw Native cultures and languages in an effort to, in their words, civilize the Natives. You can see this from English efforts to eradicate Scottish and Irish culture to American atrocities like the Indian Schools and the Trail of Tears.

"But in Native societies, traditions weren't just important, they were sacred. To say something was tradition was tantamount to saying it was the law. And blood revenge was absolutely an accepted Native tradition."

Talon's nodded. "Thank you, sir. No further questions."

LeClair looked down. "Any cross examination, Mr. Brunelle?"

"Yes, Your Honor," he answered as he stood up. "Briefly."

One thing Brunelle knew was to never argue with an expert while he was still on the stand. Argue with him in closing argument when he can't respond.

O'Brien had said the offending tribe understood that blood revenge would be coming and they were supposed to accept it. Red Deer just said blood revenge was an accepted tradition. So Brunelle could tell the jury, in closing, that Red Deer had agreed with O'Brien that blood revenge was only allowed if the offending tribe,—or in this case George Traver—knew blood revenge would be coming and he was supposed to accept it. There was no way Talon could credibly argue that Traver knew he would be killed for molesting Caitlyn, let alone that he would accept it, so therefore Red Deer supported the prosecution's theory and the defendant is guilty.

Great closing. Terrible cross. Ask Red Deer to agree with that and he'd turn to the jury and explain exactly why Brunelle was a full of shit.

So instead, Brunelle asked him, "Blood revenge wasn't limited to Native American tribes, was it?"

Red Deer
frowned. "Well, my expertise is mainly with Native cultures."

"Okay." Brunelle could see he'd need to guide him a little bit. Maybe just as well. Show the jury he'd thought about the idea himself. "You've heard of 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,' right?"

Red Deer
grinned. "Of course."

"And that was similar to blood revenge, correct?"

"I suppose," Red Deer agreed after a moment. "Although it seems to address transgressions short of killing."

My point exactly
, Brunelle thought. Although he wondered how he could argue that the proper revenge against Traver would have been to sexually assault him, rather than kill him.

"And are you familiar with the Latin phrase 'lex talionis'?" Brunelle asked, then translated, "The law of the talion."

"I believe," Red Deer replied, "it was a similar concept."

"Right," Brunelle said. "If you damage someone, you will be damaged in the same way."

"Okay," Red Deer replied.

"And are you familiar with Professor Miller's work on Icelandic sagas and blood feuds?"

Red Deer
offered a half smirk. "Uh, no. I'm afraid I'm not."

Well, good. Neither am I.

Brunelle took a few steps away from the witness stand then turned around again. The purpose was to get everyone to look at him, not Red Deer. "But will you agree with me that many European-based societies practiced some sort of retributive justice similar to the concepts underpinning blood revenge?"

Red Deer
thought for a moment, then nodded. "I think that's a true statement."

"But 'lex talionis' isn't the law in Italy any more, is it?"

Red Deer
smiled. He got it. "No, I don't believe so."

"And they aren't stabbing people's eyes out in courts in Israel, are they?"

"No." The smile tightened a bit. "I don't believe they are."

"And last time I checked, there are no Viking blood feuds raging in Iceland, right?"

"Last I checked," Red Deer agreed.

"Even the Hatfields and the McCoys have stopped fighting, isn't that right?"

"I haven't heard much about that feud recently," Red Deer replied.

"So…" Brunelle stepped back to the witness stand. "Are you telling me that the Duwallup Nation is alone among civilized people in still condoning vigilante revenge killings?"

The smiled melted away, but Red Deer didn't say anything.

Brunelle waited for the reply. He didn't mind. What really mattered was his question. And every second Red Deer delayed just showed how much he didn't want to admit the answer.

"I'm saying blood revenge was an important tradition for many Native people, including the Duwallup."

"So, the Duwallup Indian Reservation is the one place in the civilized world where it's acceptable—required even—for neighbor to murder neighbor?"

"Of course not," Red Deer started. "That's not—"

Brunelle interrupted. "Of course not, you said?"

"Yes. Of course not."

Brunelle smiled. "I think you're absolutely right. Thank you. No further questions."

Talon popped up before Brunelle  even sat down. She didn't wait for the judge to inquire if she had more questions.

"But the difference is," she half-asked, half-stated, "that these other cultures decided to abandon that practice, whereas our laws and traditions were forcibly supplanted by so-called treaties that were rarely if ever honored, isn't that correct?"

It was a good question—despite being ridiculously objectionable as leading—but it didn't matter. Brunelle had made his point.

"Er, yes," Red Deer decided to agree with the lawyer who had called him. "I think there's a great deal of truth in what you just said."

"Thank you," Talon huffed. "No further questions."

"Any re-cross?" LeClair asked Brunelle.

"No, Your Honor," Brunelle stood to answer.

The judge turned to Red Deer. "You are excused. Then he turned to Talon. "Next witness, counsel."

Talon looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 2:40. There was plenty of time to call another witness. Hell, there was time for a few witnesses.

"May we excuse the jury for a moment?" she asked. "To discuss scheduling?"

The judge made that perturbed face judges make when they have to go to the trouble of sending the jury out just to have a two-minute conversation with the lawyers. Then he made than resigned face judges make when they know they have to do it anyway.

He turned to the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to excuse you to the jury room for a few minutes while the lawyers and I discuss scheduling. Thank you."

The bailiff escorted them out and once the door to the jury room closed, Judge LeClair looked down at Talon. "What do we need to discuss?"

"Your Honor, I apologize," Talon began. "But the next witness we intend to call is the defendant himself."

Brunelle nodded. He'd expected as much based on the logical order of likely defense witnesses. He'd brought his materials for crossing Quilcene in case they got that far. Another reason to keep his earlier cross exams short.

"However," Talon went on. "As the court may have heard, a dear friend of my client was shot the other night and is in I.C.U. at Tacoma General. We got word over the lunch hour that he might not survive the day and my client would very much like a chance to say goodbye before it's too late."

Judge LeClair frowned at Talon, but didn't say anything.

"My client is in no condition to testify right now, Your Honor," Talon claimed. Then, obviously to remind the judge of how much he respected her professionalism, she added, "I thought I should mention this outside the presence of the jury as it might unfairly invoke sympathy for my client."

And give me the chance to mention their shared gang ties
, Brunelle thought.

"I'm certain," Talon concluded, "that Mr. Brunelle wouldn't mind the extra time to prepare his cross examination of my client."

The judge looked at Brunelle.

"I don't need extra time to prepare," he said. He looked at Talon, who offered the slightest eyebrow raise.
Damn that pretty face
. "But I won't object to adjourning early today. I can sincerely say that I hope Mr. Quilcene's friend pulls through."

I just won't say why.

LeClair frowned, but he said, "All right then. We'll adjourn for the day. Bailiff, inform the jury they are excused for the day, but instruct them to be here at eight-forty-five tomorrow morning. We will start promptly at nine o'clock with the direct examination of the defendant by Ms. Winter. Court is adjourned."