Nix told of his conversation with Hop, who identified the murderer. He, Roy Lester, and Red Arnett drove out to arrest Pete Banning, who was waiting on the porch. He told them the gun was in his truck and they took it. He said nothing as they drove to the jail, where John Wilbanks was waiting. Mr. Wilbanks insisted that there was to be no interrogation without him present, so Nix never got the chance to talk to the defendant, who, to this day, has never said a word as to why he killed the preacher.
“So you have no idea as to motive?” Truitt asked.
John Wilbanks was itching to do something lawyerly. He jumped to his feet and said, “Objection. Calls for speculation. This witness is in no position to give his ‘idea’ or opinion as to motive.”
“Sustained.”
Unfazed, Truitt walked to a small table in front of the bench, reached into a cardboard box, removed a pistol, and handed it to Nix. “Is this the gun you removed from Pete Banning’s pickup truck?”
Nix held it with both hands and nodded. Yes.
“Would you describe it for the jury?”
“Sure. It’s made by Colt for the army, a .45 caliber, a single-action revolver, with six rounds in the cylinder. Five-and-a-half-inch barrel. A very nice gun. I’d say a legend in the business.”
“Do you know where the defendant purchased this gun?”
“I do not. Again, I’ve never talked to the defendant about the shooting.”
“Do you know how many rounds were fired by the defendant at the deceased?”
“There were three. Hop said he heard three rounds, and, as you’ve heard, Mrs. Bell testified that she heard three sounds. According to the autopsy, the deceased was hit twice in the chest and once in the face.”
“Were you able to recover any of the slugs?”
“Yes, two of them. One passed through the head and lodged in the foam padding of the chair in which the deceased was sitting. Another passed through the torso and lodged lower in the chair. The third was removed by the pathologist during the autopsy.”
Jackie Bell burst into tears and began sobbing. Errol McLeish stood and helped her to her feet. She left the courtroom with her hands over her face as everyone watched and waited. When the door closed behind her, Miles Truitt looked at Judge Oswalt, who nodded as if to say, “Get on with it.”
Truitt walked to the table, took a small package from the box, and handed it to the witness. “Can you describe these?”
“Sure. These are the three slugs that killed the preacher.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Well, I sent the gun and the slugs to the crime lab. They ran the ballistics tests and sent me a report.” Truitt stepped to his table, picked up some papers, and sort of waved them at Judge Oswalt. “Your Honor, I have their two reports. The first is from the ballistics expert; the second is from the doctor who performed the autopsy. I move that these be admitted into evidence.”
“Any objections, Mr. Wilbanks?”
“Yes, Your Honor, the same objections I raised last week. I prefer to have these two experts here in the courtroom so I can cross-examine them. I cannot cross-examine written reports. There is no good reason why these two men were not subpoenaed here to testify. This is unfair to the defense.”
“Overruled. The reports are admitted into evidence. Proceed, Mr. Truitt.”
“Now, Sheriff Gridley, the jury will be able to review both reports, but can you summarize what the ballistics expert said?”
“Sure. The three spent cartridges were still in the chamber, so the analysis was easy. The expert examined them, along with the three slugs, and he test fired the weapon. In his opinion, there is no doubt that the Colt revolver we took from the defendant’s truck fired the three fatal shots. No doubt.”
“And can you summarize the findings of the doctor who performed the autopsy?”
“No surprise there. The three bullets fired from Pete Banning’s revolver entered the body of the deceased and caused his death. It’s all right here in the report.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. I tender the witness.”
John Wilbanks stood and glared at Gridley as if he might throw a rock at him. He stepped to the podium and pondered his first question. For weeks now, every living soul in Ford County had known that Pete Banning shot and killed Dexter Bell. If Wilbanks dared to suggest otherwise, he risked losing whatever credibility he had. He also risked outright ridicule, something his pride couldn’t tolerate. He decided to poke and prod a bit, perhaps raise a little suspicion, but above all maintain his elevated status.
“Sheriff, who is your ballistics expert?”
“A man named Doug Cranwell, works down in Jackson.”
“And you think he’s a qualified expert in his field?”
“Seems to be. He’s used by a lot of folks in law enforcement.”
“Well, forgive me for asking, but I can’t quiz him on his qualifications, because he’s not here. Why is he not here to testify live before this jury?”
“I guess you’ll have to ask Mr. Truitt. I’m not in charge of trials.” Nix smiled at the jurors and enjoyed his moment of levity.
“I see. And which doctor did you use for the autopsy?”
“Dr. Fred Briley, also down in Jackson. He’s used by a lot of sheriffs.”
“And why is he not here to testify before this jury?”
“I think he charges too much money.”
“I see. Is this a low-budget investigation? A crime that’s not too important?”
“It comes out of Mr. Truitt’s budget, not mine. So you’ll have to ask him.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd, Sheriff, that neither of these experts would show up here and subject himself to a rigorous cross-examination by the defense?”
Truitt stood and said, “Objection, Your Honor. This witness does not control the prosecution of this case.”
“Sustained.”
Nix, who was enjoying his brief visit to the witness stand, kept talking. “It’s really an open-and-shut case and I guess Mr. Truitt didn’t see the need for a lot of experts.”
“That’s enough, Sheriff,” Oswalt growled.
Wilbanks bristled and asked, “So, how many murders have you investigated, Sheriff?”
“Not many. I run a tight ship around here. We don’t see a lot of crime.”
“How many murders?”
When it became apparent an answer was required, Gridley shifted weight, thought for a second, and asked, “Black or white?”