Accused

FORTY-SIX

On the third day of trial, Scott Fenney stood and called Benito Estrada to the witness stand. Benito wore a white silk suit, crisp white shirt, and a white tie to court. He glowed under the fluorescent lights.

"Mr. Estrada, I understand that you are a distributor of pharmaceutical products, is that correct?"

"Pharmaceutical products?" A little smile. "Uh, yes, that is correct. I am a distributor of pharmaceutical products."

The jurors smiled, too. They might possess only high school educations, but they weren't stupid.

"And did you have occasion to sell pharmaceutical products to Trey Rawlins?"

"Yes, I did have that occasion."

"And did you allow Mr. Rawlins to purchase your products on credit?"

"Yes, I did."

"At the time of his death, how much did Mr. Rawlins owe you for products he had purchased from you?"

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

"And did he refuse to repay that sum?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He disputed delivery."

"He claimed he had not received the products?"

"That is correct."

"But you did make delivery, did you not?"

"I did make delivery. To his residence."

"And, subsequent to his death, did you learn that you were both correct?"

Benito sighed. "Yes."

"Why is that?"

"The products were stolen from his residence before he took possession."

"Mr. Estrada, what did you do about Mr. Rawlins' outstanding debt?"

"I referred him to our collections department."

"And where is your collections department located?"

"Nuevo Laredo."

"Mexico. So yours is an international operation?"

"Yes, very much so."

"And do you know if your collections department was able to secure payment of Mr. Rawlins' outstanding debt?"

"I do not know."

"Would you say that your collections department is aggressive in its collection efforts?"

"Aggressive? Yes. Very."

"Nonpayment is not an option?"

"No, it is not."

A common defense strategy is to preempt the prosecution. Rather than wait for the prosecution to present bad evidence about the defendant, a savvy defense lawyer will present it first, to lessen its impact on the jury. Of course, that strategy works only if the defendant has told the truth-at least to her lawyer.

"Mr. Estrada, have you ever met the defendant?"

Benito looked to Rebecca and smiled. "Yes, we have met."

"Did she recently come to your place of business?"

"Yes."

"And did she purchase pharmaceutical products from you?"

"Yes."

"And did she pay for those products by giving you her jewelry?"

Benito frowned, and Scott knew the strategy had backfired.

"Jewelry? What jewelry?"

"Thank you, Mr. Estrada. No further questions."

The D.A.'s head had been down during most of Benito's testimony. Scott now sat at the defense table, hoping the D.A. had missed the importance of Benito's last answer-but he knew Rex Truitt didn't miss anything.

The D.A. stood. "Mr. Estrada, do you know who killed Trey Rawlins?"

"No."

"No further questions."

The judge declared a short recess. After the courtroom had emptied, Scott turned to Rebecca. "You said you paid Benito with your jewelry. He doesn't know anything about any jewelry. Rebecca, if Rex had followed up on that, he could've shown the jury we lied to them. We said you had no money. But you paid Benito in cash. You have that mob money, don't you?"

"No!"

Scott needed to calm down, he needed to find Benito, and he needed to use the men's room. So he stood and went out into the corridor. Gabe and his goon were leaning against the windows. Renee sat in her booth; Scott walked over to her.

"Did you see Benito?"

She covered her microphone with her hand and whispered. "He left. Fast."

Scott continued down the hall to the men's room. He was standing at a urinal and thinking about Rebecca's latest lie when he zipped up and turned around and came face to face with Gabe's goon. And he realized that Louis hadn't followed him out of the courtroom.

"I guess I didn't make myself clear on the beach." The goon grabbed Scott by his shirt. "The Vegas boys don't want Gabe to testify."

A toilet flushed.

A stall door swung open, and Louis's massive body filled the opening. He stepped out and loomed large over Gabe's goon-and blocked his path to the door. The goon released Scott's shirt.

"Sorry, Mr. Fenney, nature called. Would you excuse us?"

Scott smiled at the goon and slipped past Louis and out the door. He walked back down the corridor to the courtroom. Gabe saw him and looked for his goon. But it was Louis walking down the corridor. Scott waited for him; they entered the courtroom together.

"Louis, I didn't see the goon leave."

"He left, Mr. Fenney. Through the window."

"But we're on the fourth floor."

"Yes, sir, we sure are."

"Mr. Petrocelli, what line of business are you in?"

Gabe wore a plaid sports coat over a knit shirt. "I own a bar on the Strand."

"Do you make book?"

"I make martinis."

"Did you know Trey Rawlins?"

"Yeah, I knew him."

"Were you aware of a debt Mr. Rawlins owed the Las Vegas casinos?"

"I heard of such a debt."

"And did you hear that that debt was fifteen million dollars?"

"I heard that number."

"And did you hear that Mr. Rawlins made an arrangement to repay that debt by intentionally losing several professional golf tournaments thereby allowing his creditors to win their bets on those tournaments?"

"I heard that."

"And did you hear-"

The D.A. stood. "Objection. Your Honor, I'm not a stickler on legal technicalities, but every time Mr. Fenney says 'hear' and the witness says 'heard' I think the witness' testimony might constitute hearsay, which would be inadmissible."

"Your Honor," Scott said, "asking if the witness 'heard' something is the same as asking if he 'knew' something. It's just a more agreeable way for me to phrase the question, isn't that right, Mr. Petrocelli?"

"Uh, yeah. That's right. It's more agreeable."

The judge turned to the witness. "Mr. Petrocelli, do you have personal knowledge of these matters?"

"Personal knowledge?"

"Did you personally see the instruments evidencing Mr. Rawlins' debt? Like a promissory note."

Gabe smiled. "Judge, there ain't no promissory notes."

"So how did you learn of these debts?"

"I was told about them."

"And now you're telling us what someone else told you?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm doing."

"Well, that's the very definition of hearsay."

Bobby's laptop pinged. He read: "And, Your Honor, it is an exception to the hearsay rule if the declarant is unavailable to testify. Rule eight-zero-four."

The Assistant D.A. jumped up and pointed at Bobby. "Objection! He's cheating!"

"Cheating, Mr. Newman?" The judge almost laughed. "Mr. Truitt already objected to the hearsay."

"Yeah, but I'm objecting to Mr. Herrin using messages from Ms. Douglas. That's not fair."

The judge turned to Bobby. "Is she messaging you, Mr. Herrin?"

"Uh, yes, Judge, she is."

The D.A. turned to Bobby. "Is it really an exception?"

Bobby shrugged. "How would I know? I got a D in evidence. But Karen said it's an exception if the declarant is unavailable to testify due to death."

"Who's dead?" the judge said.

"One of the Vegas boys testifies, he's dead," Gabe said.

The D.A. had heard enough. "Never mind, Your Honor. I withdraw the objection. If Professor Douglas says it's an exception to the hearsay rule, then I'm sure it is." He turned to his assistant. "Sit down, Ted."

"Very well. Continue, Mr. Fenney."

"Mr. Petrocelli, did you hear that Mr. Rawlins did in fact throw two golf tournaments earlier this year?"

"Yeah, I heard that."

"And did you hear that his creditors gave him a cut of the profits, three million dollars in cash?"

"Yeah, I heard that, too."

"And did you hear that Mr. Rawlins was supposed to throw a third tournament but inadvertently sank a long putt to win?"

"I heard that, too."

"And that that putt cost his creditors many millions of dollars, which did not make them happy?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Petrocelli, did you hear who killed Trey Rawlins?"

"Uh, no, I didn't hear that."

"Thank you."

The D.A. had no questions for Gabe.

"Defense calls Clyde Dalton."

The courtroom doors opened and Goose walked in. He was wearing slacks, a wrinkled shirt, and a clip-on tie. Scott had never before seen him without a golf cap on. His gray goatee needed trimming, and his gray hair was thin on top and pulled back in a ponytail. It wasn't a good look on a middle-aged man whose name wasn't Willie Nelson. Goose took the oath then sat.

"Mr. Dalton," Scott said, "what is your nickname on the pro golf tour?"

"Goose."

"Would it be more convenient for me to call you Goose?"

"Uh, yeah, that would be more convenient."

Scott first took Goose through the facts of his employment with Trey as a caddie and the events surrounding the termination of that employment on a Mexican golf course during a tournament that Trey eventually won.

"And did Mr. Rawlins owe you a caddie fee of one hundred thousand dollars?"

"Yeah, he did."

"And did he pay you that fee?"

"No, he didn't."

"Were you unhappy about that?"

"Uh, yeah, I was unhappy about that."

"What was your opinion of Trey Rawlins?"

"My opinion was that he was a prick." Goose caught himself and looked up at the judge. "Can I say that?"

"You just did."

"Maybe you should strike that remark from the record."

"You've been watching too much TV. The jurors are over twelve, they've heard it before."

"Goose, did you kill Trey?"

"No, I did not."

"Were you aware of his cocaine habit?"

"I suspected. He'd be jumpy sometimes."

"Were you aware of his gambling habit?"

"Yeah, I knew about that."

"What about his gambling debt?"

"Nope."

"Did you think he threw those two tournaments, when he missed the short putts?"

"Seemed a little strange 'cause he never missed short putts."

"Did you ask him why?"

"Why what?"

"Why he missed those short putts."

Goose chuckled. "Uh, no, I didn't do that. You ask a golf pro why he missed a short putt to win a million bucks and you're liable to get a putter rammed up your… he wouldn't appreciate that question."

"Do you now caddie for Pete Puckett?"

"Yep."

"Where do you live?"

"Austin."

"Where does Pete live?"

"On a ranch outside Austin."

"Have you ever been to his ranch?"

"Yeah. He asked me out to go deer hunting."

"So Pete knows how to use a gun?"

Goose nodded. "Oh, yeah. Real good."

"Did he shoot a deer the day you were out with him?"

"Yep. Big one."

"What'd he do after he killed it?"

"Cut it up. He carries this big ol' Bowie knife looks like a god-" He grimaced and glanced up at the judge. "Looks like a sword. He slit that deer from head to hoof, gutted it, hung it up-"

"He field-dressed the deer?"

"Uh, yeah. That's what he called it."

"Bloody, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's awful."

"So Pete's handy with a knife?"

"You could say that."

"Would you say that?"

"Uh… he's handy with a knife?"

"Does Pete have a daughter?"

Goose nodded. "Billie Jean."

"How old is she?"

"Seventeen."

"Did Pete know she was having a carnal relationship with Trey?"

"Nope. But he knew they were screwing."

"How'd he feel about that?"

"He didn't feel so good about that."

"Did he say anything to you about that?"

"Said Trey was a no-good mother-" Another sheepish glance at the judge. "Said he was a pervert."

"Pete wasn't happy about the affair?"

"Nope."

"Where were you on Thursday, June fourth?"

"Orlando. Caddying for Pete at the Atlantic Open."

"Did you and Pete travel together to the tournament?"

Goose nodded. "We flew from Austin that Monday."

"Did Billie Jean go with you?"

"No, she stayed back in Austin."

"Why?"

"Pete said she didn't feel so good."

"So you arrived in Orlando on Monday, then what?"

"Played a practice round on Tuesday, pro-am on Wednesday."

"And what was Pete's mood?"

"Foul. Something was bothering him, but he didn't want to talk about it."

"What time did you and Pete tee off on Thursday?"

"Eight A.M. "

"What time did you finish the round?"

"About noon."

"How'd Pete play?"

"Godawful. Shot an eighty-five. Couldn't focus."

"Was that unusual for Pete?"

"Oh, yeah. Now, he don't shoot sixty-five, but he don't shoot eighty-five. He's a one-under, one-over kind of player. But he could always focus. Not that day."

"Then what did you do?"

"Flew home to Austin."

"After the first round of the tournament? Why?"

"Pete wrote down the wrong scores on two holes, signed his card. Automatic DQ. Disqualification."

"Why'd he do that?"

"Like I said, he wasn't himself that day. He was real distracted."

"By what?"

"Didn't say. But I think it was 'cause Billie Jean wasn't there. He was worried about her."

"Did Pete fly with you back to Austin?"

"Nope. He took another flight."

"So the last time you saw Pete in Orlando was when you left the tournament site for the airport?"

"Yep."

"And when did you next see Pete?"

"Following Sunday. He picked me up at my house in his RV to drive down to Houston for the tournament there."

"Goose, is Pete known on tour for his temper?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Bad?"

"Terrible. If he could've controlled it, he could've won a dozen tournaments. But it'd get the best of him and he'd fling his club farther than most guys could hit an eight-iron. I'm telling you, you didn't want to be around Pete when he lost his…"

"What?"

"Uh, I think I said enough."

"Goose, did Pete kill Trey Rawlins?"

"He didn't say nothing about that to me."

"No further questions."

The D.A. stood. "Goose, in the two years you caddied for Trey Rawlins, did he ever tell you that he was going to marry Rebecca Fenney?"

"Nope."

Hank Kowalski came over to the defense table during a short recess.

"Scott, you know anything about a guy diving out of the men's restroom here in the courthouse?"

"Uh… no. Sure don't. Is he okay?"

"EMTs took him to UTMB. Palm tree broke his fall, but he's still busted up pretty good."

"Four-story fall, that'd do it."

Hank smiled. "I didn't say the restroom was on the fourth floor."