Tribal Court (7 page)

Chapter 13

The only saving grace to the crash-and-burn that was dinner with Kat was the fact that it pissed Brunelle off to be called out like that. And since there was no chance he'd be distracted with further dates in the foreseeable future, he was able to channel his anger into the work of preparing for the motions hearing in front of Judge LeClair.

Moreover, since one of the two motions was to disqualify him from the case and he was getting pretty tired of being the paleface, outsider, punching bag, he didn't spend too much time on that one. In fact, he may have spent more time trying to convince Duncan to let him concede the motion than actually writing the response, which consisted of little more than pointing out that his presence on the case had been a carefully negotiated agreement between two sovereigns in the exercise of a tenuous and politically charged treaty.

That left Brunelle plenty of time to prepare for his argument regarding Talon's bullshit 'blood revenge' defense. His initial motion to suppress was a simple two page document, but it was followed by a twenty-plus page, heavily footnoted brief explaining why the defense was, historically and legally speaking, a load of crap. It was little more than a thinly veiled attempt at jury nullification—an effort to wink at the jury, tell them the victim basically deserved it, and hope they let the murderer walk despite the law.

Brunelle was a trial lawyer. His skills lay in the courtroom, not the law library. Giving opening statements, cross examining witnesses, bringing the house down with monumental closing arguments. Writing briefs was not his strong suit. He'd hated his stint in the drug unit, responding to all those motions to suppress for allegedly illegal searches, and he'd managed to avoid the appellate unit altogether. He'd have been happy never to write another brief in his life. But this brief—'Prosecutor's Memorandum of Law in Support of Motion to Exclude Proffered Defense'—was pretty damn good, if he did say so himself.

It hit just the right balance between respect for tribal tradition and due deference to insistence on justice. He delved into their own history to show why—even within their own culture—that defense shouldn't be available to Quilcene. It was one thing for Brunelle to say, 'Our law doesn't allow this.' But it was quite another to be able to say, 'And neither does
yours
.'

He was proud to have written it.

He just wished he hadn't let Freddy argue it. "Great brief," Freddy had said the week before when they met to prepare for the hearing. This time, Freddy had driven up to Seattle—he'd insisted on it. 'Always looking for an excuse to come up to the big city,' he'd said, followed quickly by, 'Oh, and can you get me free parking? It was murder last time I went up there.'

"But," Freddy had flashed that grin of his, "you should let me argue it."

"Why?" Brunelle had felt a bit possessive of his hard work.

"Well, to be honest," Freddy shrugged, "because you're white and I'm Native. Your whole point is that our tribal law wouldn't support the defense. Judge LeClair isn't going to like an outsider telling him what his law is. He's likely to rule against you just to prove a point. But let me argue it and that aspect goes away. Just three tribal members discussing the application of tribal law. And no bossy White Man trying to tell us what to do."

It had made sense, so Brunelle had agreed. And it might have worked too, if Freddy had actually argued Brunelle's brief. But he didn't. Brunelle could only sit at counsel table and cringe as Freddy veered quickly from reasoned analysis to emotional diatribe.

"May it please the court," Freddy started innocuously enough. "I have the honor of arguing the prosecution's motion to exclude Ms. Winter's proffered defense of blood revenge. Has the court had an opportunity to read our brief?"

Everyone seemed surprised that Freddy was going to argue the motion. Brunelle had authored the written memorandum, so it would have been usual for him to present the oral argument as well. Not to mention the fact that Brunelle was the seasoned prosecutor and Freddy was… well, Brunelle hadn't quite figured that out yet, but Freddy was definitely not seasoned. And he was about to prove it.

Talon seemed especially irritated. She had been clear that she wanted to kick Brunelle's ass, not Freddy's.

Judge LeClair seemed intrigued. "Yes, I've read Mr., Brunelle's brief."

"Good," Freddy replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Then I won't waste any time repeating his arguments."

Brunelle slowly raised his gaze from his notepad to his co-counsel.
Uh oh
.

"Instead," Freddy almost yelled, "I want this court to consider allowing Ms. Winter's defense. And then some!"

Brunelle's eyes widened. "What are you doing?" he whispered brusquely, but Freddy ignored him.

"Yes!" Freddy threw up his arms. "By all means, let's embrace our noble and savage past, and declare open season on all who prey on the innocent. Child molesters and elder abusers beware: your lives are worthless in the eyes of the Great Spirit."

Oh, fuck
. Brunelle lowered his head into his hands. He hoped the judge might stop Freddy, but no such luck.

Freddy extended calming hands to everyone in the courtroom. "I know, I know. I'm exaggerating. For effect. But this is a serious issue—one that deserves serious consideration. What the defense is arguing is that, because the tribal jurisdiction for this trial rests in an ancient treaty, then we should apply ancient tribal law. That is, the law and custom of our tribe at the time of the ratification of the treaty. Well, fine, then. Let's do that."

Brunelle looked up again. He had to admit, he was curious where Freddy was headed with it all. A glance around the courtroom confirmed that the judge and gallery were engaged. Even Talon had set down her pen and was watching Freddy intently, her pretty face resting on her manicured fist.

"Let's ignore," Freddy continued, "some of those ancient Native traditions revolving around things like slavery and women's rights. Let's ignore the fact that every culture matures and progresses and abandons practices it later comes to find outdated or even abhorrent. Let's assume nothing ever changes and what was once a crime or defense is always a crime or defense.

"Ms. Winter wants the court to instruct the jury that they should acquit the defendant if they find that he killed the victim in retaliation for the molestations of his niece by that same victim. Fine, let's do it."

"Freddy…" Brunelle whispered, but to no avail.

"But let's also instruct them," Freddy proposed, "that someone from Mr. Quilcene's family must be killed to settle the debt created by the murder of George Traver."

Gasps thrilled through the gallery. Talon just stared at him over her blood-red fingernails. Brunelle rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered just how far Freddy would go with it.

"Let's get photographs of every member of Quilcene's family," Freddy suggested. "Grandmas and babies and fourth cousins thrice removed. Let's write some bios for the jury. Let's really let them know who's who in the defendant's family. Maybe even a PowerPoint presentation, complete with soundtrack and the sounds of children playing and laughing."

He paused.

"And then we make the jury pick which one of them dies. Which one dies to settle the score with the defendant? He upped the ante when he killed George Traver. Traver is dead, Now, someone in Quilcene's family must die."

Talon finally reacted. "Objection, Your Honor. Counsel is completely mischaracterizing my argument."

"Objection overruled," Judge LeClair said without even looking at her. "Continue, Mr. McCloud."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Freddy nodded to the judge. "Yes, by all means. Let's get more blood. This is blood revenge after all, correct? Blood revenge leads to blood feuds, and we all know feuds never really end. They're feuds. That's the whole point. They never stop. Hell, this one has just started. One death isn't a blood feud. It's murder. But two deaths? Three? More? Now we're talking."

Brunelle found himself staring at Freddy, transfixed by the audacity of his argument.

"So, the only question is: who is worth the life of George Traver, the child molester? There probably aren't that many people that low. Our next victim would need to be a criminal himself. Someone immersed in the criminal lifestyle. Someone who holds himself out as a thug. Someone who, if he ended up with the same damn knife in his own chest, no one would miss any more than George Traver."

Brunelle's eyes widened. 'The same knife.'
Oh my God
.

"But will that end it?" Freddy asked rhetorically. "Not likely. It's a feud, remember? A blood feud. Our glorious tradition of blood revenge often led to another one of our glorious traditions: the Mourning War, where the revenge never stopped and families and tribes were trapped in a never-ending cycle of revenge and murder. So I say, if we're going to let the jury have this question—if they're going to be asked to apply ancient tribal custom as modern day law—then let's really make them do it. If they say 'not guilty' by reason of blood revenge, then they have to fill out a blood feud schedule. Five or six members of each family and the order in which they should be killed."

Brunelle looked over at the defense table. Talon was just shaking her head, waiting her turn. Quilcene was staring daggers at Freddy.

Fitting
, Brunelle thought.

"That leaves one question to resolve," Freddy declared. "Who will carry out the killings? The jury? the judge? Maybe our tribal police? Or best yet, just leave it to the members of our community to kill each other, according to our custom. As long as they stick to the schedule, they won't be held any more accountable for their murderous acts than Johnny Quilcene was for the premeditated intentional murder of George Traver."

The courtroom reverberated in stunned silence for several seconds.

Finally, Judge LeClair asked, "Are you done?"

Freddy, who was practically panting after his impassioned monologue, took a couple more deep breaths and nodded. "yes, Your Honor. Thank you."

LeClair nodded back, his expression inscrutable. He turned to Talon. "Response?"

Talon stood up and threw her silky hair over her shoulder. "Thank you, Your Honor. To begin with, I'm not even sure which argument to respond to: Mr. Brunelle's specious treatise on our legal traditions, or Mr. McCloud's ridiculous melodrama." She smoothed out her suit. "I suppose I'll start with Mr. Brunelle's written brief…"

Freddy sat down next to Brunelle, still breathing heavily, and stared straight ahead. Talon was launching into her attack on Brunelle's perfectly crafted brief, but he didn't bother listening. He'd been around long enough to know that LeClair was going to rule however he was going to rule. One of the biggest delusions trial attorneys nursed was the belief that they ever really influenced the judge. LeClair had probably made up his mind about Talon's defense the same morning she first proposed it at the status conference, anticipating and weighing every argument in advance.

Well, almost every argument.

"Impressive," Brunelle whispered to Freddy as Talon droned on. "Did you rehearse that or was it all impromptu?"

Freddy looked down and shook his head. His grin peeked out of the corner of his mouth. "A little of both, actually."

Brunelle nodded. "You were smart not to tell me what you were going to say. There's no way I would have let you argue that if I'd known."

The grin widened. "Yeah, I kind of figured that."

"But actually," Brunelle went on. "That's not what I found really impressive."

Freddy turned and looked askance.

"What's really impressive," Brunelle observed with his own subdued grin, "is that hidden in that overly dramatic, hyperbolic, even buffoonish diatribe, was the fact that you actually believe it."

Freddy affected a laugh. "Naw. I was just exaggerating. Trying to make a point."