McClure turned, pointed an angry finger at Hugh, and said, “This man is a cold-blooded killer who deserves the death penalty.”
All twelve glared at the defendant. The courtroom was still, silent. Though the first witness had yet to be called, the trial was over.
Hugh absorbed the words without flinching. He was determined to look at no one, to react to nothing, to do little else but doodle and scratch on a legal pad and pretend to be hard at work taking notes. He appeared to be in another world, but his thoughts were very much in the courtroom. They were a scrambled mess of questions like: Where did the plot go wrong? Why did we trust an idiot like Henry Taylor? How could Nevin rat me out? How can I find him and talk to him? How long will I stay on death row before I make my escape? He harbored not a single thought of being innocent.
McClure allowed his words to echo around the courtroom, then launched into a windy narrative on the history of organized crime on the Coast, with a heavy emphasis on the Malco family’s central role in it. Gambling, prostitution, drugs, illegal liquor, corruption, all promoted by men like Lance Malco, now sitting in prison for his sins, and then by his son—his successor, his heir, the defendant. After decades of entrenched criminal activity, the first public official with the guts to go after the crime bosses was Jesse Rudy.
McClure spoke without notes but with a full command of his material. He had rehearsed his opening several times with his team and each version only got better. He moved around the courtroom as if he owned it. The jurors watched every move, absorbed every word.
He dwelt on Jesse and his frustrations in his early days as a prosecutor when he was a lonely warrior fighting crime with no help from law enforcement; his futile efforts to shut down the nightclubs; and his worries about the safety of his family. But he was fearless and never gave up. The people noticed, the voters cared, and in 1975 he was reelected without opposition. He fought on, trying one legal maneuver after another until he began to win. He became more than a thorn in the side of the crime bosses; he became a legitimate threat to their empires. When he put away Lance Malco, father of the defendant, it was time for revenge. Jesse Rudy paid the ultimate price for fighting the Dixie Mafia.
Keith had watched his father become a master in the courtroom, but he had to admit at that moment that Chuck McClure was just as brilliant. And he reminded himself of his own wise decision to sit on the sideline. He would not be able to be as effective as McClure, whose words evoked too many emotions.
McClure finished in forty-five minutes and everyone took a deep breath. He had brilliantly won the opening battle without mentioning the names of Henry Taylor and Nevin Noll. The dramatic testimonies of his star witnesses would seal the fate of Hugh Malco.
Joshua Burch quickly revealed his strategy, though it was no surprise. He had so little to work with. He said his client was an innocent man who was being framed by the real killers, lowlifes from the underworld who had cut deals with the State to save themselves. He warned the jurors not to believe the lies they were about to hear from the men who murdered Jesse Rudy. Hugh Malco was no gangster! He was an entrepreneur who ran several businesses: a chain of convenience stores, a liquor store with a legitimate permit, two restaurants. He built and managed apartment buildings and a shopping center. He had been working since the age of fifteen and would have gone to college but his father needed him as the family enterprises grew.
The murder of Jesse Rudy was the most sensational in the history of the Gulf Coast, and the State was desperate to solve it and punish someone. In its eagerness, though, it had sacrificed the search for the truth by pinning its case on the testimony of men who could not be trusted. There was no other direct link to Hugh Malco, a fine young man who had always respected Jesse Rudy. Indeed, he admired the Rudy family.
Keith watched the faces of the jurors and saw no sympathy, nothing but suspicions.
After Burch sat down, Judge Roach recessed for a long lunch.
* * *
In a murder trial, most prosecutors called as their first witness a member of the victim’s family. Though rarely probative, it set the tone and aroused sympathy from the jury. Agnes wanted no part of it and Keith thought it unnecessary.