High Crimes

Waldron stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Mr. La Pierre, is it correct that you are a special agent for the CID?”

“That is correct,” La Pierre boomed in a sonorous, assured baritone.

“You are in fact the CID agent in charge of this investigation, is that correct?” As if there might be another reason he was here.

“That is correct.”

“Now, Mr. La Pierre, how long have you been a CID agent?”

“Eight years.”

“And what office are you attached to?”

“CID headquarters at Fort Belvoir.”

“Do you have a specialty as a CID agent?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And what is that specialty?”

“Personal crimes, particularly homicide.”

“I see. Mr. La Pierre, how many murder cases would you say you’ve worked in your career?”

“I don’t know, maybe forty.”

“Forty? Well, that’s quite a few.” He took La Pierre through his credentials and his involvement in the Kubik case. It was all matter-of-fact, often quite dry, but thorough.

After lunch, Claire stood to cross-examine the witness. She looked momentarily lost. “Mr. La Pierre, you say eighty-seven civilians were killed at La Colina, El Salvador, on 22 June 1985, is that right?”

“That’s correct.” La Pierre’s certitude was almost defiant.

“Well, can you identify, please, for the investigating officer, the individuals who are dead?”

La Pierre hesitated. “Identify how?”

“Well, how many, say, were male?” Claire gave a sudden little open-palmed shrug, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

He paused again, furtively glanced at Waldron, then looked down. “I don’t know that.”

“How many were female?”

With annoyance: “There’s no way of knowing—”

“Well, what were the ages of the eighty-seven victims?”

“Look, this was thirteen years—”

“Answer the question, please. What were the ages of the victims?”

Firmly: “I don’t know.”

“Well, where are they buried?”

“I’m sure I can get that for you—”

“Who buried them?”

“Your Honor,” Waldron burst in angrily, “counsel is engaging in a completely specious line of questioning, completely improper, inadmissible—”

“Sustained,” Judge Farrell replied blandly. “Let’s move this along, counsel.”

“Thank you. Mr. La Pierre, do you have any photographs of the dead bodies?”

“No,” he said testily.

“No? What about death certificates? Surely you have those?”

“No.”

“No? Autopsy reports, no doubt. You must have those.”

“No, but—”

“Mr. La Pierre, can you tell me the name of one individual that my client is accused of killing?”

La Pierre stared at her venomously. “No, I cannot.”

“Not even one?”

“No.”

“If you can’t tell me one, I know you can’t tell me two. Let alone twenty-two. Yet you’re accusing Sergeant Kubik of murdering eighty-seven people, is that your testimony here today, sir?”

But Frank La Pierre had had his fill of badgering. He came back at her with high moral indignation: “Ronald Kubik murdered eighty-seven innocent people in—”

“Yet you can’t testify that you’ve seen even a single one of the bodies of the eighty-seven people that my client is alleged to have killed. You can’t, can you?”

“But—”

“And you haven’t seen an autopsy report for a single person that my client is alleged to have killed?”

“No, I have not,” he said, this time almost proudly.

“And you haven’t seen a death certificate for a single person that my client is alleged to have killed?”

“No, I have not.”

“In point of fact, sir, you don’t have a single document, except for the” — she paused for emphasis, lifted her eyebrows — “‘sworn’ statements that the government has introduced, to prove that eighty-seven people were killed at La Colina on 22 June 1985. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Or who these eighty-seven people were.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re to take this on your word?”

“Based on seven identical sworn statements,” La Pierre managed to get in.

“Oh, I see. The seven” — she held up two fingers on each hand and flicked them in the universal quotation-mark sign — “‘sworn’ statements. Which are, as you correctly point out, identical. Yet you have no autopsy reports. You have no death certificates. In fact, you have no hard evidence whatsoever, do you?”

A long pause. “Besides the statements, no.”

“Now, Mr. La Pierre, we’ve had an opportunity to examine the service records of each of the members of Detachment 27 who made a statement to you. And, you know, it’s funny, but we didn’t discover any entry in those service records that would indicate temporary duty in El Salvador. Did we miss something?”

Now they were back on his turf. “No. Often top-secret missions aren’t recorded in service records.”

“So we didn’t miss anything.”

“I believe not.”

“Good. There was no mention in any of those service records of the incursion into El Salvador in June 1985, right?”

“I believe that’s correct.”

“Mr. La Pierre, did you see my discovery request?”

“No, trial counsel didn’t show it to me.”