High Crimes

“No, I don’t believe it,” she said. “The way it was introduced is totally suspicious. I don’t believe he’s suddenly an honest man.”

“That isn’t what I’m asking,” Tom said. “I’m talking about me. Forget about the legal junk. You can’t possibly believe that about me.”

She felt her stomach tighten. “No, Tom,” she said. “Of course I don’t. Terry, do you think you can try to turn up Hernandez’s medical records?”

“Sure,” Embry said. “I mean, I think so.”

“But quietly, okay? I don’t want Waldron to know — he’ll make us show relevance.”

“No problem. But what are you looking for?”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it true that psychiatric records aren’t privileged in the military?”

“Man, nothing’s privileged in the military,” Grimes put in. “You don’t think this creep ever saw a shrink, do you?”

“Not voluntarily, I’ll bet. But maybe he was compelled to. I don’t know. It’s worth checking. See if we can find any interesting information about the guy.”

“What are you thinking?” Tom asked.

“Something about him I don’t get.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Just — is he covering for his boss, or is there something more going on?”

Tom shook his head. “He’s just covering Marks’s ass.”

“Well, I hope you’re right. I hope there’s nothing we’re missing.”

When court resumed after lunch, the members were brought back in and Hernandez was back on the stand for the cross-examination. Claire paced in front of him for a few seconds before she began, trying to strike the right note.

“Mr. Hernandez, when you were interviewed by the Army Criminal Investigation Division in 1985—”

“Objection,” Waldron called out. “The witness is a colonel and is fully entitled to all the respect that rank deserves. Ask that defense counsel refer to him as ‘Colonel Hernandez.’”

“Fine, Your Honor,” Claire said. “Colonel Hernandez, when you were interviewed by the CID in 1985, were you asked to give a complete version of the events at La Colina?”

“Yes—”

“Thank you. Did you do so?”

“No.”

“I see,” she said, moving hastily along. “Were you aware that when you gave that statement you were under oath to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Yes,” he conceded.

“When you testified at the Article 32 hearing, were you also aware that you were under oath to tell the whole truth, so help you God?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, I have to admit I’m puzzled, Colonel. Did you consciously think about these details, and then willfully and intentionally not give testimony about these alleged events at the Article 32 hearing?”

The question confused him. He had to think a moment. “Um, yes, but as I explained to you—”

“Just answer the question, please. Colonel, if you didn’t tell the whole truth under oath to the CID investigators, and you didn’t tell the whole truth at the 32 hearing, when you were also under oath — how can we believe what you’re saying now?”

“I’m telling the truth!”

“The whole truth?”

“Right!”

“Because you’re under oath?”

He hesitated. “Because I’m telling the truth.”

“I see. Thank you for clearing that up for the members. You’re telling the whole truth now because you are. Thank you.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Waldron shouted. “Badgering the witness.”

“Move on, Ms. Chapman,” Farrell admonished.

“Colonel Hernandez, did you tell the prosecutor about this before the trial began?”

Hernandez looked uncomfortable again. Claire was learning to read him. “No,” he said at last.

“May I remind you you’re under oath?”

“Your Honor!” Waldron exclaimed.

“I said no,” Hernandez said.

“Colonel Hernandez, did anyone else see the events you describe — the disemboweling of the young boy and so on?”

“Just me and Kubik.”

“Nobody else can corroborate your testimony?”

“I guess not. But I saw it.”

“So we have to rely on your memory from thirteen years ago — which we’ve just seen is seriously unreliable?”

“My memory is not unreliable!” Hernandez exploded. “I told you before, I—”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Claire interrupted.

Hernandez looked plaintively at Waldron. “Can’t I answer the question?” he asked.

“That’s enough,” Farrell boomed.

“Colonel,” Claire said, “I have another question for you. What were you doing, exactly, when you say Sergeant Kubik was doing all these terrible things?”

“I was rousting people from their huts.”

“That must have taken all of your concentration, right? After all, you never knew if the guerrillas might be hiding in one of the huts you were emptying out. Am I right?”

Hernandez looked suspicious. His eyes narrowed. “I could see what Kubik was doing.”

“Really? Let me get this straight. You saw him giving orders to an old man and his family, you saw him going after the old man climbing out the window. You saw him slash the old man’s Achilles tendon. You saw — and heard — him taunt the old man. Then you saw a young boy throw rocks at Kubik. You saw Kubik force the young boy to the ground and cut his stomach. You saw a great deal, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t help but look. The people were screaming.”

“After he hurt them?”