High Crimes

Colonel James Hernandez, the general’s aide de camp, was short but powerfully built, with short curly black hair, a thin mustache, and swarthy skin. Under his right eye was a scar. He had the slightest trace of a Cuban accent. As he spoke, he gripped the railing in front of the witness stand.

“They begged for mercy,” he said. “They said they weren’t rebels.”

“And what did Sergeant Kubik do while he was machine-gunning them down?” Waldron asked.

“What did he do?”

“Did he react in any way?”

“Well, he smiled, sort of.”

“Smiled? As if he were enjoying himself?”

“Objection!” Claire called out. She felt Grimes’s restraining hand on her arm. “This witness can’t possibly testify as to whether Sergeant Kubik was enjoying himself—”

“Uh, Ms. Chapman,” Colonel Holt said, “this isn’t a regular court-martial. This is an Article 32 hearing. That means that none of the rules of evidence apply here. The only thing we go by are the military rules of procedure for Article 32 pretrial investigations.”

“Your Honor—”

“And I’m not Your Honor, much as I’d like to be. You can call me ‘Sir,’ or ‘Mr. Investigating Officer,’ but I’m not Your Honor. Now, are you going to be cross-examining this witness, when the time comes?”

“I am, sir,” said Grimes.

“Well, then, counsel, I don’t see why you’re objecting anyway. Mr. Grimes here should be the one objecting. We have a rule here — one counsel, one witness. No tag teams. Understood?”

“Understood,” said Claire with a half-smile. She whispered to Grimes, “Sorry.”

“I have nothing further,” Waldron said.

Grimes got to his feet. Standing just in front of the defense table, he said: “Colonel Hernandez, when you were contacted in regard to this 32 hearing, were you threatened with charges if you didn’t cooperate?”

“No,” Hernandez said.

“You weren’t coerced in any way?”

“No, I was not.” He gave Grimes a direct, confrontational stare.

“I see,” Grimes said, as if he clearly didn’t believe him. “And when you were interviewed by the CID in 1985, in regard to this incident at La Colina, were you pressured in any way by CID?”

“Back in 1985?”

“Right.”

“No, I was not.”

“No one threatened you with charges if you didn’t cooperate — complicity, involvement in the alleged crimes, conspiracy to commit murder, even murder?”

“No one.”

“No threats whatsoever?”

“None.” He jutted his chin as if to say, So there.

“So this was a completely voluntary statement?”

“Correct.”

“Now, you work for General William Marks, the chief of staff of the army, is that right?”

“Yes. I’m his executive officer.”

“Did he ask you to give a statement?”

“No. I did it on my own.”

“He didn’t coerce you in any way?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re not afraid of harming your career if you say anything critical of the general?”

Hernandez hesitated. “If I had anything critical to say, I’m required to say it. I’m under oath. But he did nothing wrong.”

“Aha. Now, tell me something, Colonel. When you saw Sergeant Kubik discharge his weapon at the civilians, did you personally try to stop him?”

Now Hernandez eyed him suspiciously. Was this a lawyer trick? “No,” he finally said.

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Who did try to stop him?”

Hernandez hesitated again. He sat forward in his seat. He looked over at Waldron and company. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone try to stop him.”

“Hmm,” Grimes said. He took a few steps closer. He shrugged and said conversationally, “So you didn’t actually see anyone try to stop him?”

“No, I did not.”

“And, Colonel, since General Marks — then Colonel Marks — was back at headquarters at this time, you were in charge, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Colonel Hernandez, how long have you worked for General Marks?”

“Since 1985.”

“That’s quite some time. He must trust you enormously.”

“I hope so, sir.”

“You’d take a bullet for the general.”

“If given the chance, yes, sir, I would.”

“You’d lie for him, too, wouldn’t you?”

“Objection!” Waldron shouted.

“Withdrawn,” Grimes said. “Okay, now, Colonel Hernandez, I’m going to take you step by step through this incident. We’re going to very slowly explore every single detail, just so’s I don’t miss anything, okay?”

Hernandez shrugged.

In mind-numbing detail, for two hundred questions or more, Grimes took the witness through every point he could think of. It was like watching a movie frame by frame. Where was he standing? What did Sergeant Major so-and-so say?

Then, suddenly, Grimes seemed to veer off course. “Colonel Hernandez, did you consider yourself a friend of Ronald Kubik’s?”

Hernandez’s eyes snaked over to Waldron for a moment. He looked sullen. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“You can tell us the truth,” Grimes prompted, walking away from the witness stand, back toward the defense table.

“No, I did not.”

“You didn’t much like him, did you?”

“I thought he was twisted.”

Grimes stopped and whirled around. “Twisted?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Twisted like sick-twisted?”

“Yeah. Sick.”

“Oh?” Grimes looked curious. “And how was he sick?”

“He was a sadist. He loved to kill.”

“In combat, you mean.”

Hernandez looked confused. “Yeah, when else?”