McClure called an investigator from the state police. His job was to show the jury the crime scene and describe what happened. Using a series of enlarged photos, he walked the jury through the blast and the resulting damage. When it was time to show photos of the victim, Keith nodded to a bailiff who walked to the front row and escorted Agnes, Tim, Laura, and Beverly out of the courtroom. It was a dramatic exit, one that Keith and McClure had carefully planned, and it irritated Joshua Burch, who stood to object but decided not to. Calling attention to Jesse’s family would only make bad matters worse.
Keith stared at the floor as the jurors cringed at four photos of Jesse’s badly mangled and dismembered body stuck to the wall.
A pathologist testified as to the cause of death, though his testimony wasn’t needed.
An expert from the FBI lab spent half an hour explaining the impact of detonating five pounds of Semtex in a small room the size of an office. It was far more than necessary to kill a man.
After the first three witnesses, Joshua Burch had not asked a single question on cross-examination.
So far the proof had been delivered in straightforward, matter-of-fact testimonies. McClure kept it short and to the point. The photos spoke for themselves.
During the afternoon recess, Agnes and her family returned to the front row. They would never see the horrible photos of Jesse. Keith had seen them months earlier and would be haunted forever.
Drama arrived with the fourth witness, former air force sergeant Eddie Morton. McClure cleared the air immediately and established that Morton had been court-martialed and was serving time in a federal prison. Morton described his side business peddling military explosives to various buyers over a five-year period. He admitted gambling problems and a fondness for hanging around the strip clubs in Biloxi, and about three years earlier had made the acquaintance of one Nevin Noll. On July 6, 1976, he left Keesler with five pounds of Semtex, drove to a club called Foxy’s on the Strip, had a drink with Noll, and collected $5,000 in cash. The two went outside to the parking lot where Morton opened his trunk and handed Noll a wooden box containing the explosives. In February of 1977, he was contacted again by Noll who wanted more of the explosives.
Morton’s testimony was mesmerizing and the entire courtroom was captivated.
On cross, Joshua Burch made it clear that the witness was a convicted felon, a thief, a traitor, and a disgrace to his uniform and country. He attacked Morton’s credibility and asked him repeatedly if he was promised leniency in return for testifying. Morton steadfastly denied this, but Burch hammered away.
Like all great trial lawyers, Burch maintained his composure and never seemed to lose confidence in his case. But Keith had seen him in action before and knew that some of the cockiness was gone. His client was a dead man and he knew it.
Hugh managed to keep scribbling and never looked up, never acknowledged the presence of anyone else in the courtroom. He never whispered to his lawyers, never reacted to a word from the witness stand. Keith glanced at him occasionally and wondered what the hell he was writing. His mother, Carmen, was not in the courtroom and neither were his siblings. His father was surviving another day in prison, no doubt eager to get the daily newspapers.
Keith and Chuck McClure had strategized for hours about which witnesses to use. One idea was to subpoena some of the other criminals from the Strip and have a field day with them on the witness stand. The goal would be to prove motive. They hated Jesse Rudy and there had been plenty of bad blood. Their greatest idea was to haul in Sheriff Albert “Fats” Bowman and rip him to shreds in front of the jury. In the end, though, they agreed that the facts were squarely in the favor of the prosecution. They had the evidence and the witnesses. No sense in muddying the water. Play it straight, hit hard and fast, and get the conviction.
* * *
Wednesday started with a bang when McClure announced the State’s next witness, Mr. Henry Taylor. For the occasion, he had been allowed to shed his orange jailhouse jumpsuit and took the stand in a starched white shirt and pressed khaki pants. McClure had spent two hours with him the night before and their back-and-forth was well rehearsed.