My Dark Places - James Ellroy [146]
The Beckett trial was a box-office dud. Fuck Daddy Beckett. Daddy was low-rent. He was a schmuck with an accordion and a bad rug. The Main Room was four doors down. O. J. Simpson was the whole Rat Pack in their prime. Fuck Tracy Stewart. Nicole Simpson had bigger tits.
Daddy Beckett sat with Dale Rubin. Bill Stoner sat with Dale Davidson. The jury sat along the right-hand wall and viewed the action sideways. The judge sat on a high perch and viewed the action directly. I sat up against the back wall.
I sat there every day. Tracy Stewart’s parents sat in front of me. We never spoke.
Charlie Guenther flew down for the trial. Gary White flew in from Aspen. Bill stuck close to the Stewarts. He wanted to walk them through the trial and help them retrieve their daughter’s remains. Daddy Beckett said he remembered the dump site. He told the Fort Lauderdale cops that he’d send the Stewarts an anonymous note and reveal the location. He hadn’t done it yet. There was no percentage in it. The act could legally backfire. The Stewarts wanted to bury their daughter. They probably knew the whole concept of “closure” was bullshit. Their daughter vanished one day. They probably wanted to stage a reunion and mark her life with a piece of dirt and a stone.
Bill thought they’d never find the body. His ray of hope was a sham. Robbie Beckett said they drove Tracy south and dumped her near a fence. Nobody found her body. The body should have been found. The body might have been found and misidentified. The body might be buried under some other name. Daddy told Robbie to gut the inside of his van a few days after the murder. The act was irrational. The act implicitly contradicted Robbie’s account of the murder. They hit Tracy with a sap. Daddy strangled her. They made a minimal mess.
The body should have been found.
They might have cut Tracy up in the van. They might have dumped her body parts in different locations.
Bill thought they’d never know. Robbie would stick to his story. Daddy would not send that note. Closure was bullshit. They’d convict Daddy. The judge would not impose the death penalty. They needed a body. They needed to prove that Daddy raped Tracy. Robbie said Daddy raped Tracy. It wasn’t sufficient proof. Robbie said that he did not rape Tracy. Bill did not believe him.
Charlie Guenther testified. He described the Tracy Stewart missing-persons case. He described Gary White’s work for the Aspen PD. He consulted a pocket notebook and listed his dates and locations precisely. Daddy Beckett watched him. Dale Rubin challenged a few dates and locations. Guenther checked his notes and corroborated them. Daddy watched. Daddy wore a long-sleeved sport shirt and slacks. His threads complemented his white hair and glasses. His cellmates probably called him “Pops.”
Gloria Stewart testified. She described Tracy’s life and the events preceding her disappearance. Tracy was a shy and fearful girl. Tracy had trouble in high school and dropped out prematurely. Tracy rarely had dates. Tracy ran errands and answered the phone for her parents. Tracy stayed home a lot.
Dale Davidson was gentle. He phrased his questions deferentially. Dale Rubin questioned the witness. He implied that Tracy’s home life was cloistered and extremely neurotic. He came off skittish and unconvinced of his own argument. I watched the jury. I burrowed into their heads. I knew they found the implications unconscionable. Tracy was murdered. Her home life was irrelevant.
Davidson was gentle. Rubin was almost polite. Gloria Stewart was fierce.
She trembled. She cried. She looked at Daddy Beckett. She sobbed and coughed and stumbled over her words. Her testimony said, There is no closure. Her hatred filled the room. She saw Robbie’s trial. She saw him convicted. It was just a passing moment in her hatred. This was one more moment. It was nothing compared to the aggregate force of the hate she sustained every day. She left the witness