Broken (31 page)

Raif whispered back, "She's not the only person who could have had some satanic involvement. I get really bad vibes from Lloyd's lawyer."

The next day began with the testimony of Detective Parker Reynolds. Parker's description of Lawrence Dantzler's death was a duplicate of the other three deaths. He then testified as to the results of the tests performed on the bullet and the expelled cartridge recovered from the roof of the Eau Boueuse Public Library. The slug and the cartridge proved to have been fired from the same gun as the others.

Parker continued testimony regarding the explosion of Detective Brian Baker's car. The forensic report showed that only an explosives expert could have rigged the trigger to the windshield wiper.

"Did you conduct inquiry into Officer Palermo's service record?" asked the prosecutor.

"Yes," Parker testified. "Investigation showed that Lloyd Palermo spent time with the state bomb disposal unit."

"Thank you, Detective Reynolds."

The defense rose and approached Parker. "Was there any evidence that Lloyd Palermo handled the expended cartridge or was in the vicinity of the
bar
, that three of Eau Boueuse's finest were exiting?"

Parker admitted, "No, there was no direct evidence."

"Detective Reynolds, how many beers had you consumed before investigating the crime scene?"

"Two. It was happy hour."

"So, you investigated a crime scene under the influence?"

"Objection!" roared the prosecutor.

The judge knitted his eyebrows. "Have to allow it. Overruled. Please, answer, Detective Reynolds."

"I was off duty when the crime occurred, and two beers would hardly be enough to impair my judgment. Besides, much of the investigation took place the next day by experts in the crime lab."

"No more questions at this time. Reserve the right to recall."

The prosecution called their next witness, retired Police Chief Raiford Reynolds. Ray affirmed the description of Dantzler's assassination and the explosion of Brian Baker's car. Then, he testified that Lloyd Palermo had been at the scene of Agent Dantzler's death and had offered his assistance.

The defense went for Ray's jugular. "Mr. Reynolds, you are retired now?"

"Yes."

"First, for the record, how many beers had you had at the bar when Detective Baker's car exploded?"

"Objection!" hollered Prosecutor Desmond. "Has no bearing on the case. Mr. Reynolds did not actually investigate anything at the scene."

"Sustained," agreed the judge.

"Mr. Reynolds, what official action at the scene did you perform?" asked Mr. Chambliss, the lead defense attorney.

"I had Detective Baker pronounced dead at the scene and put him under heavy guard at the hospital just in case the perpetrator went after him again because he failed the first time. Then, I had his family taken into protective custody."

"Did you drive yourself to the hospital?"

"Yes."

"After drinking?"

"Objection!" snarled Desmond. "Mr. Reynolds has not been charged with a DUI or any other crime."

"Withdrawn." Chambliss smirked.

Chambliss changed direction. "Mr. Reynolds, were you injured in the explosion?"

"Yes, mildly."

"It was a head injury, correct?"

"Yes."

"Concussion?"

"Mild."

"Yet, you were able to drive?"

"Yes."

Chambliss thumbed through the documents on his table. "After the explosion, did you do something a bit underhanded to the public?"

"If you're referring to hiding Brian's actual condition, yes."

"No, I'm asking about false reporting. Did you leak false information to the press?"

"Incomplete and with the full knowledge and cooperation of the press, yes."

"So, you lied to the public?"

"If you say so." Ray laced his fingers together on top of the rail in front of the witness chair.

"Which members of the press cooperated?"

"I refuse to answer that question."

"Your Honor," Chambliss addressed the judge.

"Why, Mr. Reynolds?" asked the judge.

"The members of the media who cooperated in order to help catch a killer should not be disparaged as reporters. They acted in good conscience and with every intention of complete disclosure when the case is closed."

The judge thought and nodded. "I will not trample on First Amendment rights. Move on, Mr. Chambliss."

"Very well. Mr. Reynolds, on the day that Agent Dantzler was killed, you testified that Officer Palermo was at the library and offered his assistance."

"Yes."

"Was he in uniform?"

"Yes."

"Did you know who he was?"

"No." Ray sat back, a bit more rigid in the witness seat and shivered at the cold, though he had dressed expecting the temperature to be frigid. "I thought he was a fellow law enforcement officer willing to help catch a killer."

"Did you give him orders or instructions?"

"Yes. I told him to help detain any and all patrons on the premises."

"So, Officer Palermo did
not
look suspicious to you?"

"Not at the time."

"Does Officer Palermo have a library card for the Eau Boueuse Library?"

"I have no idea. You'll have to ask the librarian," Ray replied.

"I can do better." Mr. Chambliss retrieved Lloyd Palermo's library card that had been obtained two years earlier. "Defense exhibit one—Officer Palermo's library card with an address in an apartment complex six blocks away where he has lived for over two years." He turned back to Ray. "So, Mr. Reynolds, do you see any reason why a state trooper who just finished a shift should not go to the library to check out a book?"

"No."

"If he stopped by on his way home, is it
feasible
he would be in uniform?"

"Of course."

"So, is it possible he just happened to be there?"

"Objection!" Desmond stood. "Calls for speculation on the part of the witness."

"I'll withdraw the question." Chambliss looked over his shoulder at the prosecutor then back to Ray. "Was he wearing his sidearm?"

Ray rubbed his head as a migraine began to creep up. "I don't recall seeing it."

"Thank you. No more questions."

The prosecution's next witness was Police Chief Brian Baker. Baker offered testimony regarding his own attempted murder. The only new information he could offer was the parking ticket, which had been destroyed in the explosion.

The defense approached Chief Baker with a copy of the ticket. "Chief Baker, do you realize you have an outstanding parking ticket?"

"What?"

"Yes," Chambliss said. "Defense exhibit two. A copy of the citation legitimately issued that night because you were parked in a loading zone. Please note the signature."

He handed the ticket to Baker. "Did Lloyd Palermo issue the ticket?"

"No."

"Who did?"

"Officer Perini, one of my patrolmen."

"No more questions."

The prosecution called Raiford Gautier. Raif told the same story about Lawrence Dantzler. Then, he testified about his visit with Edyta Descartes.

The defense objected, "Hearsay!" The judge sustained.

Prosecutor Desmond rolled his eyes.

Three days of testimony regarding multiple homicides was exhausting. At the end of the third day, the prosecution was ready to move to the other charges on the next Tuesday, since the following Monday would be a holiday. The families went home for a long weekend.

The first witness on the fourth day of testimony was Neely Rivers Gautier. Neely bravely testified about the assault and then the visit in Hawaii to deliver a message from Lloyd. The judge had to give Neely several breaks. It was understandable the event had been devastating to her. Desmond asked, "Mrs. Gautier, can you identify your attackers?"

"Not with any certainty." She narrowed her eyes to slits, afraid he was about to ask specifically about Kyle LaFontaine; thus, breaking her agreement. "I mainly remember part of a tattoo."

Rather, Desmond gave her a gentle smile, and said, "No more questions."

The defense was not so kind. Mr. Chambliss, the expensive attorney Lloyd Palermo had, began, "Mrs. Gautier? Is that correct?"

"Yes," replied Neely.

"Let's see. You're the wife of the first murder victim's widowed husband. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Ring around the rosy!"

"Objection!" shouted Prosecutor Desmond. "The unusual fact that Miss Rivers met Mr. Gautier sometime after his wife's death and fell in love is irrelevant to the case."

"Sustained," said the judge. "Stick to the case, Mr. Chambliss."

Chambliss continued. "Mrs. Gautier, what happened to you was a travesty. Nobody should have to endure something like that. However, at any time during your attack did you see Officer Palermo?"

Neely looked Lloyd Palermo in the eye as she responded. "No. He was too much of a coward to be there himself. He had to use children to do his dirty work."

"Your Honor," whined Mr. Chambliss.

The judge nodded. "Mrs. Gautier's statements passed, 'No,' will be stricken from the record."

Mr. Chambliss asked, "Mrs. Gautier, did your assailant in Hawaii give you a last name of Lloyd?"

"No."

"Where is that alleged assailant now?"

"I have no idea."

"Would it interest you to discover that Honolulu police can find no record of such an incident?"

"That's not possible."

Chambliss gave a sarcastic shrug and Neely's mouth dropped open.

"So, have you ever met Mr. Palermo?" Chambliss went on.

"No."

"By the way, for the record, when did you first meet Mr. Gautier?"

"Several years ago when he got a tattoo."

"What was that tattoo, dear?"

"He and his twin brother got the Chinese symbols for older brother and younger brother and they both got tattoos with their wives' names. Ray's is an angel and Raif's is a unicorn."

Mr. Chambliss chuckled. "So, you're married to a man who has his dead wife's name tattooed on him, which
you
actually tattooed on him. Like I said, 'Ring around the rosy.'"

"Objection!" shouted Desmond.

"Sustained!" bellowed the judge. "Mr. Chambliss, you will not mention the fact that Mrs. Gautier is now married to the widower of one of the victims again, or I will hold you in contempt."

"No more questions," said Chambliss.

Neely stared hostilely at Lloyd Palermo before a slight smile flickered across her face. As she stepped from the witness chair, she removed the jacket she wore to reveal her rose tattoo. She wanted to make sure Lloyd recalled his grandmother's warning.

As Neely passed before him, she heard him gasp. Just the reaction made her feel good.

The judge called court recessed for the day. "It's my understanding the prosecution's next witness is a minor. I won't have this child subjected to what in my opinion is tantamount to torture on different days. Court reconvenes at nine A.M. tomorrow. Tomorrow there will be no cameras or sketch artists in my courtroom. The minor witness will be protected as much as possible."

"What kid is testifying?" whispered Lloyd to Chambliss.

"The LaFontaine kid. Don't worry about the little hoodlum."

"Is he the one who brought that last charge?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. It's your word against his."

"Have you seen that kid?"

"No, and neither have you. Shut up."

35

Witness

T
h
e
next day Prosecutor Desmond called Kyle LaFontaine to the stand. He was dressed very simply in a light-blue button-down oxford shirt and khaki slacks. With his platinum blond curly hair and big pale-blue eyes, he looked angelic.

Lloyd whispered, "He looks just like his father." Chambliss shot his client a look. Lloyd shrugged. "I actually miss Robert. We understood each other."

Desmond approached Kyle even more gently than he had Neely. "Please, state your full name for the record."

"Raiford Kyle LaFontaine."

"Who is your father?"

"The late Senator Robert LaFontaine."

"What name do you use?"

"Kyle." The boy shuddered and looked at his fingernails as they began to turn purple in the chilled room.

"Kyle, how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"For the record, are you testifying today in exchange for immunity?"

"Yes and no."

"Explain."

"I'm testifying today because it's the right thing to do. Yes, you offered me immunity, but I had already made up my mind to do the right thing. Immunity is icing on the cake for me. I should go to prison, but I'm exceedingly grateful for another chance to prove I'm not a vile person."

"All right. You're here to give testimony regarding three counts against a decorated Louisiana state trooper. How do you feel about that?"

"I'm scared."

"Why?"

"I don't want people to know what's happened to me or what I've done, and I'm afraid of Officer Palermo."

"Objection!" snapped Chambliss.

"You can't object to the witness's state of mind, Mr. Chambliss," responded the judge.

Mr. Desmond continued, "But you're testifying anyway."

"Yes. Mr. Desmond, courage is not the absence of fear, but acting appropriately in spite of fear."

"I find that admirable, Kyle, but have you always felt like that?"

"No, but in the past year, I've grown up a lot, and I've learned that real love is unconditional." Kyle glanced at his mother and Courtney. He needed the assurance he saw in their faces.

"Very well, Kyle. I want to work backward in your testimony. First, have you ever been associated with Lloyd Palermo?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Working backward?"

"Either way."

"Last year, he paid me and some of my buddies to find Christopher Reynolds in Biloxi and to beat him up. Two and a half years ago, he paid me and four other fellows to attack, beat, rape, and kill the owner of Timeless Tattoos in New Orleans. When I was ten"—Kyle looked Lloyd Palermo in the eye—"he raped me."

The courtroom buzzed with comments. "Order!" shouted the judge as he banged his gavel. "Quiet or I will clear this courtroom!"

Testimony finished, previous witnesses were allowed in the courtroom. Raiford Gautier rubbed his head for the sound was so similar to the effect the aneurysm he had endured years before caused when he had thought he was schizophrenic and hearing voices. Then, he shivered and noticed others wrapping garments more tightly to keep warm as the temperature seemed to plummet.

The buzzing drone of multiple conversations stopped, and the judge instructed, "Mr. Desmond, proceed."

His breath frosting the air, Desmond asked, "Kyle, when was the last time you interacted with Officer Palermo?"

"Last March."

"Tell us about it in your own words." Desmond stepped slightly to Kyle's right so he could block direct eye contact with Palermo.

Kyle turned his gaze toward the jury. "My family has a beach house in Gulfport. We often go there weekends, beginning usually in February, spring break, and most of the summer. Last year, Police Chief Raiford Reynolds sent his family to Biloxi because he was concerned for their safety. He had concluded that the assassinations taking place around Louisiana were connected to a case a long time ago when a woman named Latrice Descartes killed a lot of people. Dr. Reynolds, the chief's wife, was an intended victim. Chief Reynolds thought all the people involved in the woman's arrest were potential targets, and since his wife had been very instrumental and actually killed the woman, he was afraid
she
would be a target. Our families have known one another for a long time."

Kyle looked back at Mr. Desmond and received a nod of encouragement.

"Well, I had become involved in a group of, I guess, neo-Nazis. I really don't know what they were or are. I just wanted to be accepted—to feel like somebody cared about me. We all shaved our heads and got hideous tattoos. Officer Palermo was one adult involved. He came to the Gulf Coast and talked to some of the other guys and me. He paid us to find Christopher Reynolds, Chief Reynolds's son, and beat him up. He said he didn't want the boy killed, just hurt."

"What did you do to Christopher?" asked Desmond.

"Nothing."

"Why? Please, explain."

"When we found Christopher, he was making out with my sister. I guess I wasn't a total slug. I mean, how do you beat up the guy your sister's kissing? Then, Christopher recognized my tattoo as the one Miss Rivers, Mrs. Gautier, had identified on one of the guys who attacked her. He started explaining to me what I was really mixed up in and convinced me to talk to his dad."

"Where are those other boys?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen any of them since that day."

"Kyle, would it interest you to know that we can't find any of the other boys whose names you gave us?"

"I'm not surprised. I'm not sure I knew their real names. Maybe I was just too naïve and gullible to not use my real name."

"I see. Now, I want to take you back to two and a half years ago. Tell us about that experience."

Kyle shivered.

"Are you all right?" asked Desmond. "Do you need a break?"

"It's really cold in here, but I'm all right. I can do this." Once again, Kyle found his mother and Courtney. Both nodded encouragement. Kyle breathed deeply and continued.

"That's when I first became involved in the skin-head gang. They called themselves 'The Bald Eagles.' Most of them had a grotesque bald eagle that looked as if an amateur had tattooed it over their hearts. A few had other things. Once again, it was Officer Palermo who talked to me. There were four other guys. I guess this was some of our initiation, but at least one of them had previously been involved in something. Palermo told us to get in we had to beat and rape the owner of Timeless Tattoos. He took me to the side and told me if I wanted in deep, I had to kill her."

Kyle began to sweat in spite of the temperature in the room being uncomfortably cool. He felt lightheaded. Mr. Desmond prompted, "Go on."

Kyle breathed deeply again. "He gave us money and told us to pretend to want 'MOM' tattoos. We went in and told her that. She was skeptical because she asked to see cash up front and I.D. because she said the law forced her to be sure we weren't too young to get tattoos." Kyle gripped the rail in front of the witness chair.

Mr. Desmond asked gently, "Kyle, did you do anything to Miss Rivers?"

Before he could say anything else, Kyle leaned to the side and vomited. The judge ordered a fifteen minute recess.

During the short break, the witness area was cleaned and Deanna and Courtney met with Kyle in a witness holding room. Courtney handed Kyle a ginger ale. "Here. This will settle your stomach."

"I'd rather have a hug."

"Drink," commanded Courtney as she put her arms around Kyle. "You can have both. Relax. You're doing great."

Deanna stroked Kyle's hair. "I'm proud of you, honey," she said softly. "You can do this. Kyle, just tell the truth. I've been in court every day. You witnesses have been isolated so you can't hear what anybody else says. Honestly, Chambliss is good enough to get Lloyd off. There's no definitive evidence except a gun he
might
have used. So far, your testimony is all that points a real finger at him. Hang in there, baby. The case Desmond is mounting isn't strong. Robert might have been a horse's ass, but he was an excellent prosecutor. He would never have gone to trial with such unsubstantiated evidence even if it took two years to mount the case." She handed Kyle a suede jacket he had worn and left in the car. "It's like an iceberg in there. Wear this."

Desmond stepped into the holding room. "Kyle, about the other fellows not being found…"

"Let me guess"—Kyle closed his eyes—"You're taking back my immunity. You think I lied."

"No. I wanted to reassure you that I believe every word you told me. Relax. We need to get back in there now." He knitted his brow. "Oh, and don't let the judge intimidate you. He kind of does things his own way, but so far, he's been fair, if not a little bent to our side."

With the slight change of clothes, Kyle retook the stand. The judge asked, "Do I need to provide you with a barf bucket, young man?"

Kyle blushed, but replied, "No, sir. I think I'll be all right. My girlfriend gave me some ginger ale."

"Are you cold, son?" the judge asked, noting the jacket.

"I was, but I'm okay now."

"Then, let's continue." The judge ordered the stenographer to read Mr. Desmond's last question.

The woman read, "'Kyle, did you do anything to Miss Rivers?'"

Kyle nodded. "Yes."

"Please, tell us what you did," prompted Desmond who had also put on his suit coat during the recess.

"We locked her door and turned off her lights to make it look like she was closed. I grabbed her and punched her in the face. Then, one of the other guys helped me drag her behind the counter. Then, we all took turns."

"What do you mean?"

Kyle closed his eyes. His long lashes barely had a tint of brown, but it was enough contrast with his complexion to see the tears escape.

"Kyle?" prompted Mr. Desmond.

Kyle swallowed hard to control his voice. "We took turns raping her. I was first. We all wore condoms so there would be no DNA. We'd shaved our entire bodies. Lloyd told us to. Then, we hit and kicked her. I straddled her and put my hands around her throat. I was supposed to kill her, but she was
so
beautiful. I couldn't kill her."

Desmond cleared his throat and gave Kyle a stern look. He'd warned the boy not to talk about the fact that he thought Neely was beautiful.

Kyle gasped, catching his blunder too late. Desmond's caution that the defense would rip him to shreds over that tidbit made him nervous.

Desmond prompted, "Continue."

"We ransacked the place. One of the guys, I don't know which one, but the one I think had been involved in stuff before, grabbed a long shard of glass from the broken cases and rammed it into her over and over while a couple of guys held her legs apart." He shivered. "They laughed, and it was as cold in there as it is in here. She passed out." He shook his head.
Even with the blood and bruises, she was so beautiful. She looked like a Barbie doll with a perfectly bloomed rose on her arm. How could anybody kill something so lovely? I couldn't do it.
Does that mean I am evil? Could I have killed her if she'd been fat and ugly?
"I told that guy she was already dead, but I knew better. We left. I didn't know her name until last year."

"Kyle, Mrs. Gautier has said under oath that she can't with certainty identify any of her attackers. Why didn't she testify against you?"

"When I finally met her, she really only remembered my tattoo. I confessed to her. She said she wouldn't testify if I gave up the others, especially Lloyd, and if I got counseling. I did what she asked. I've been seeing a counselor once a week. I gave the New Orleans police and the FBI everything I had. Those names were probably fake, too."

"Probably since we haven't found any of them either. Kyle, are you lying to keep yourself out of jail?"

"No." Kyle looked Desmond in the eye.

"Did your group have anything to do with the other twelve women who were raped and beaten to death in New Orleans?"

"I don't know about the other guys"—He turned again toward the jury—"but
I
did not."