1970
After lunch, Judge Sims asked the prosecutor, “Eric, are you ready to call your first witness?”
“We are, Your Honor.” In former murder cases, Eric usually called the coroner first because his testimony introduced material evidence such as the murder weapon, time and place of death, and crime scene photographs, all of which made sharp impressions on the jurors. But in this case, there was no murder weapon, no fingerprints or footprints, so Eric intended to begin with motive.
“Your Honor, the People call Mr. Rodney Horn.”
Everyone in court watched Rodney Horn step onto the witness stand and swear to tell the truth. Kya recognized his face even though she’d seen it for only a few seconds. She turned away. A retired mechanic, he was one of them, spending most of his days fishin’, huntin’, or playin’ poker at the Swamp Guinea. Could hold his likker like a rain barrel. Today, as ever, he wore his denim bib overalls with a clean plaid shirt, starched so stiff the collar stood at attention. He held his fishing cap in his left hand as he was sworn in with the right, then sat down in the witness box, hat on his knee.
Eric stepped casually to the witness stand. “Good morning, Rodney.”
“Mornin’, Eric.”
“Now, Rodney, I believe you were fishing with a friend near Cypress Cove on the morning of August 30, 1969? Is that correct?”
“That’s ’xactly right. Me and Denny were out there fishin’. Been there since dawn.”
“For the record, that would be Denny Smith?” “Yeah, me ’n’ Denny.”
“All right. I would like you to tell the court what you saw that morning.”
“Well, like I said, we been there since dawn, and it was near ’leven I reckon, and hadn’t had a nibble for some time, so we was ’bout to pull our lines and head out, when we heard a commotion in the trees over on the point. In the woods.”
“What kind of commotion?”
“Well, there was voices, kinda muffled at first, then louder. A man and a woman. But we couldn’t see ’em, just heard them like they was fussin’.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, the woman started hollerin’, so we motored over to get a better look. See if she was in trouble.”
“And what did you see?”
“Well, by the time we got closer, we seen the woman was standin’ next to the man and was kicking him right in the . . .” Rodney looked at the judge.
Judge Sims said, “Where did she kick him? You can say it.” “She kicked him right in the balls and he slumped over on his
side, moanin’ and groanin’. Then she kicked him again and again in his back. Mad as a mule chewin’ bumblebees.”
“Did you recognize the woman? Is she in the courtroom today?” “Yeah, we knew ’er all right. It’s that ’un there, the defendant.
The one folks call the Marsh Girl.”
Judge Sims leaned toward the witness. “Mr. Horn, the defendant’s name is Miss Clark. Do not refer to her by any other name.”
“A’right, then. It was Miss Clark we seen.”
Eric continued. “Did you recognize the man she was kicking?” “Well, we couldn’t see him then ’cause he was writhin’ and
wigglin’ around on the ground. But a few minutes later he stood up and it was Chase Andrews, the quarterback a few years back.”
“And then what happened?”
“She came stumblin’ out toward her boat, and well, she was partway undressed. Her shorts ’round her ankles and her knickers ’round her knees. She was tryin’ to pull up her shorts and run at
the same time. The whole time shoutin’ at him. She went to her boat, jumped in, and zoomed away, still pullin’ at her pants. When she passed us by, she looked at us right in the eyes. That’s how I know ’xactly who it was.”
“You said she was shouting at him the entire time she was running toward her boat. Did you hear exactly what she said?”
“Yeah, we could hear her plain as day by then ’cause we were pretty close.”
“Please tell the court what you heard her shout.”
“She was screamin’, ‘Leave me alone, you bastard! You bother me again, I’ll kill ya!’”
A loud murmur shot through the courtroom and didn’t stop.
Judge Sims banged his gavel. “That’s it. That’ll do it.”
Eric said to his witness, “That will be all, thank you, Rodney. No further questions. Your witness.”
Tom brushed past Eric and stepped to the witness stand. “Now, Rodney, you testified that at first, when you heard those
muffled but loud voices, you couldn’t see what was going on between Miss Clark and Mr. Andrews. Is that correct?”
“That’s right. We couldn’t see ’em till we moved up some.” “And you said the woman, who you later identified as Miss
Clark, was hollering as if she was in trouble. Correct?” “Yeah.”
“You didn’t see any kissing or any s*xual behavior between two consenting adults. You heard a woman shouting like she was being attacked, as if she was in trouble. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yeah.”
“So, isn’t it possible that when Miss Clark kicked Mr. Andrews she was defending herself—a woman alone in the woods—against a very strong, athletic man? A former quarterback, who had attacked her?”
“Yeah, I reckon that’s possible.” “No further questions.” “Redirect?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Eric said, standing at the prosecution table. “So, Rodney, no matter whether certain behavior was
consensual or not between the two of them, is it accurate to say
that the defendant, Miss Clark, was extremely mad at the deceased, Chase Andrews?”
“Yeah, plenty mad.”
“Mad enough to scream that if he bothered her again, she would kill him. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yeah, that’s how it was.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
