Perfect Justice (36 page)

“I think I do,” Ben said. “She had been with the Coi Than Tien people for some time, so she must’ve known a good deal about them. Including the fact that Maria Truong desperately wanted a baby.”

“I guess that’s it.” Ben could see tears once more beginning to form. “Cindy Jo had no idea the Truongs’ home would be torched before anyone woke up and found the child. But when she learned what happened—when she learned what happened to her little baby—” Her voice was cut off in a choke.

“She did her best to save her,” Ben said. “She was desperate to get inside that burning house.”

Belinda held her face in her hands. “The trauma of losing her baby in that hideous way must’ve been more than enough to push her over the edge.”

“So she killed herself.”

Belinda nodded bitterly. “Mike told me. My poor poor Cindy Jo. She asked me to help. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t help her at all.”

Ben put his arm around her.

“I don’t know what happened to me,” Belinda said, sobbing in great heaving bursts. “I’ve never done anything so … violent in my entire life. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what that monster did to Cindy Jo.”

Ben hugged her tighter. Sheriff Gustafson’s words echoed in his memory.
When something horrible like that happens to your own sister, it just does something to you. Tears you apart. Makes you go a little crazy. Makes you want to kill the man responsible.

Ben held her in silence for a long time. Finally she brushed the streaks of tears from her face.

“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked, her eyes wide and pleading.

“I can forgive a woman who made a mistake because she loved her sister.” He looked down at the ground. “What I have a hard time forgiving is a woman who was willing to let another man die for her crime.”

“You mean Donald Vick? Ben—he’s ASP. He’s scum.”

“You’re wrong. He’s not a bad kid at all—just one who made some stupid mistakes when he was young. Like everyone does. His family pressured him into ASP. He never liked it. He never participated in any of their destructive activities.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. He didn’t agree with the terrorist tactics ASP was using against Coi Than Tien—in fact, he tried to stop them. Remember Mary Sue mentioning that Vick had a Vietnamese visitor two days before the murder?”

Belinda nodded.

“That was Dan Pham. See, Vick was feeding Pham inside information about ASP’s plans. That’s how Pham stayed so well informed. Dunagan knew there was a leak, but he didn’t know who it was. After he heard Mary Sue’s testimony at trial, he realized it was Vick. That’s why he decided to throw Vick to the wolves when he testified, and that’s why ASP later branded him a traitor.”

“But, Ben, that man came into the bar and started beating Vuong for no reason at all. I saw it!”

“You’re wrong. I had a little heart-to-heart with my client. Now that the trial is over and the woman he was trying to protect is dead, he was willing to talk. You remember the testimony about a woman who came to visit Vick the night before the murder? That was your sister.”

“Cindy Jo?”

“Yes. Apparently she and Vick had met in town a few days before and he offered to help her. Turns out Vick is basically a softhearted guy, even if he is an ASP member. She came to his boardinghouse and told him about Vuong, what he had done, how she was about to have this baby and didn’t know what to do.”

Belinda’s eyes seemed to turn inside her. “That’s why he sought out Vuong at the Bluebell.”

“Right. She made him promise not to tell anyone, but he didn’t promise not to do anything about it. In his naivete, Vick tried to get Vuong to marry her, just so the baby wouldn’t be illegitimate. When he refused, Vick told Vuong he should at least give her some money. When Vuong refused that suggestion and laughed in his face, Vick blew up. That’s why he lashed into Vuong. That’s why he called Vuong
perverted.
He was referring to the beating and rape. And that’s why he got thrown out on his butt. He was looking after your sister.” Ben paused. “Just like you.”

The full horror of what he had said stabbed Belinda like a knife. She seemed frozen, transfixed.

“Even when he was on trial, Vick wouldn’t tell Cindy Jo’s secret, because he had promised not to, and because in his simple Southern way he thought an illegitimate pregnancy would ruin her reputation, if people found out. The fact is, the man you framed was the only man in this town who tried to help your sister.”

“Oh, my God,” Belinda said softly, over and over again. “I hated that man. I
hated
him.”

Ben clenched his eyelids shut. “More hate. And with the same result.”

Belinda looked up at him. “What are you going to do?”

Ben felt a clutching inside his chest. “You mean—about what I know? Belinda, I don’t think I have any choice.”

She took both of his hands and pressed her head against his chest. “Ben—if you talk, they’ll try me for murder!”

“And if I don’t, the jury that’s deliberating will probably sentence Vick to death. For a crime you committed.”

“Ben—” She threw her arms around him. “Please don’t do this to me!”

Ben felt a hollow aching in his heart more painful than any of the physical beatings he had endured. He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t.

A rapid, chopping noise slowly filtered into the barn.

“That’s Mike, isn’t it?” Belinda asked. She looked at him accusingly. “You’ve been waiting for him to return. That’s why you kept me here all this time. You’ve been waiting for him!”

“Belinda, I—”

She pushed herself away from him. “I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

“Belinda—”

“Is he going to arrest me? Is that it?”

“I was hoping you would turn yourself in. It’ll look better at trial.”

Her astonished expression slowly became one of horror and loathing. “After what we’ve shared. After all we’ve—You’re turning me in.” She whirled away from him.

Ben reached out and grabbed her hand.

She slapped him away “What do you want?” she said bitterly. “Did you think I was going to kiss you goodbye?” She glared at him, her eyes filled with contempt. “I thought you loved me.” She turned suddenly and raced out of the barn.

Ben heard the helicopter land, and then, a few moments later, he heard Mike emerge and talk briefly with Belinda. Then they both climbed into the copter.

Ben remained in the barn, standing motionless in the dark, as the helicopter bearing the two of them disappeared into the night.

“I do,” he whispered.

S
WAIN WAS NOT HAPPY
about trying a second defendant for the same murder. It proved he had made a mistake the first time; he had tried to execute an innocent man. Rather than making him more forgiving, however, this knowledge made him defensive, inflexible, and dogmatic. He insisted that this time around there would be no mistakes, and that he would seek nothing less than the maximum sentence.

He would seek the death penalty. For Belinda Hamilton.

Ben had refused to cooperate, had refused even to talk to the prosecution. So Swain subpoenaed him. He was going to be compelled to testify, whether he liked it or not.

After Ben returned to Silver Springs, he tried repeatedly to visit Belinda, who was out on bail and staying at Mary Sue’s under supervision.

She refused to see him.

Although the preliminary hearing went on for hours, Ben could only remember scattered incidents, fleeting images. A few high points. Far more low points.

He didn’t want to be here. No one did. Even Judge Tyler looked uncomfortable. He had tried to convince Swain to reduce the charge from first-degree murder to a lesser offense. Swain wasn’t listening. I’m the DA, he insisted, and the DA sets the charge. And so it went.

Ben had been trying to catch Belinda’s eye since she came into the courtroom. She wouldn’t even look at him.

The hearing began much like the trial Ben remembered so well. The coroner was called to establish that a death had occurred and that the death was caused by two crossbow bolts. After that, however, the shape of the trial began to change.

“The State calls John Pfeiffer to the stand.”

John walked hesitantly to the witness box. It was clear he didn’t want to testify.

After the preliminaries were completed and the foundations were laid, District Attorney Swain asked, “You and the defendant were at the Bluebell Bar when the fight between Donald Vick and Tommy Vuong occurred, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you tell the court what you were discussing?”

John regretfully answered the question. “When Vuong came into the bar, she became enraged. She told me how upset she was about what Vuong had done to her sister. How he shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

“And later, during the fight, Vick’s head smashed down on your table.”

“That’s correct.”

“Were any traces of blood, or perhaps, hair, left behind?”

“I’m not sure. I think so.”

Swain held a Ziploc bag in the air. “Have you ever seen a bag like this in the defendant’s possession?”

“Yes. She carries them all the time.”

“Did you ever leave her alone in the bar?”

“Yes, I believe I excused myself and went to the men’s room at one point.”

Swain smiled. “Thank you. No more questions.”

Frank Carroll wanted to testify even less than Pfeiffer. Ben was afraid Frank might lose his temper and give Swain a sharp poke in the eye.

“Have you ever seen documents such as the ones marked State’s Exhibit Six, which I just handed to you?”

“Sure. All the time.”

“And what are they?”

“Hate propaganda. ASP prints this junk. They hand it out on street corners, post it on bulletin boards, stick it under people’s windshield wipers.”

“And where were these particular documents printed?”

Carroll checked the small print. “Birmingham.”

“That’s interesting. Who at Hatewatch was involved in activities against ASP in Birmingham?”

“Many people.”

“Anyone who later came to Silver Springs?”

“Only myself. And Belinda.”

“Mr. Carroll, we had our dust man go over each and every one of these documents very carefully. I think whoever left these documents at the crime scene was very careful. But not careful enough. Would you be surprised to learn that we found the defendant’s thumbprint on one of the documents?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“We’ll bring that out later. Do you think the defendant might have had access to such documents?”

“I’m sure she did. We save it to use as evidence at future trials.”

“Thank you. No more questions.”

Slowly but surely Swain laid all the bricks into place. The case he made against Belinda was strong and certain. Unquestionably she would be bound over for trial.

And then came the moment Ben had been dreading.

“The State calls Ben Kincaid.”

Swain probably took Ben through all the proper preliminaries. He really didn’t recall. His brain was working too fast; it was too far ahead of the present.

“Would you say the defendant volunteered her confession to you?”

“Well, no,” Ben said. “I couldn’t actually say she volunteered.”

“When she finally told you what she had done, would you say she was filled with remorse? Regretted what she had done?”

“No,” Ben said sadly. “I couldn’t agree with that either.”

“She admitted that she planned to kill Tommy Vuong?”

“Yes, she did.” Again he tried to make eye contact with Belinda, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her head was buried inside her arms.

“She stole the crossbow to implicate ASP, the organization that formerly had a camp just outside of town.”

“True.”

“And she smeared Donald Vick’s blood and hair on the bow to incriminate him.”

“So she said.”

“Then she hid in the trees outside Coi Than Tien and waited for Tommy Vuong to come home.”

“Yes.”

“And when she saw Vuong approach, she killed him.”

“Not exactly,” Ben said.

“What?”

Ben saw Belinda’s head rise. “That’s incorrect.”

Swain was obviously surprised. “Why is that incorrect?”

“It’s true Belinda was planning to kill Vuong, but when the time came and he was standing right in front of her, she found she couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t fire the bow.”

Belinda lifted her head and peered across at the witness stand.

“You’re saying she changed her mind?”

“Yes. Unfortunately Vuong saw her and decided to take advantage of the situation. He was a nasty brutal person, as I guess you know. He began shouting threats, saying that he was going to do worse to her than he had done to her sister. He started toward her.” Ben turned to face Judge Tyler. “She panicked. And that’s when she fired the bow.”

Swain stared at his witness. “What are you saying—that she killed him accidentally? That she acted in self-defense?” Swain appeared incredulous. “She’d planned his murder in detail! Surely you’re not suggesting she could fire that bow
twice
by accident! Or that two shots from a crossbow was a reasonable defensive use of force!”

“No,” Ben said.

“Are you saying she went crazy? Trying to get her off on an insanity plea?”

“No. She’s definitely not insane.”

“Then I don’t understand what you’re—”

“She didn’t have premeditated intent,” Ben said firmly. “Not at the time she fired. She had recanted her previous plan. When she fired the crossbow, it was on impulse. In the heat of the moment.”

Judge Tyler peered down at Swain. “You’ve charged the defendant with first-degree murder, Mister Prosecutor.”

“That’s true,” Swain said.

“That’s an intent crime. Maybe you should try for manslaughter.”

“Your honor, this is just the opinion of one witness—”

“He’s
your
witness, Mr. Swain.”

“He’s obviously biased—”

“You took that risk when you subpoenaed him.”

“Yes, but—”

“If you expect me to bind the defendant over for trial, you’d better have her charged with the right crime.”

“Your honor, I—”