My Dark Places - James Ellroy [149]
Robbie finished his testimony. The judge called a recess. I almost applauded.
Daddy’s first ex-wife testified. She said Daddy was an awful daddy. He was brutal with Robbie, David and Debbie. David Beckett testified. He pointed to Daddy in open court and called him a “piece of shit.” Dale Rubin cross-examined David. He said, Aren’t you a convicted child molester? David said he was. He pointed to Daddy and said he learned it from him. He didn’t elaborate. Debbie Beckett could not testify. She was dead of AIDS attributed to intravenous drug use.
Paul Serio testified. He described his part in the Susan Hamway murder. He laid all the blame on Daddy. He didn’t know it was a hit. He thought it was a debt shakedown. Daddy iced Sue Hamway solo. Daddy whipped out a dildo and said, Let’s make it look like a sex snuff.
Serio pitched some regret for Sue Hamway’s baby. The baby starved to death while Sue Hamway decomposed.
Bill Stoner testified. He described the Beckett investigation from day one on. He was calm and authoritative. He counterbalanced Robbie’s histrionics. He was an independent auditor called in to itemize and total up the cost. Dale Rubin tried to ruffle him. Dale Rubin failed.
The defense called three witnesses. Two of Robbie’s old pals testified. They said Robbie used to pound on total strangers for no reason. Rubin controlled his witnesses. They sketched a nice picture. The pre-Tracy Robbie was impetuous and unpredictably violent. The revelation lacked punch. Robbie’s preemptive strike nullified it. Robbie drew the same picture. He drew it more dramatically and in the first person.
Rubin called his last witness. Another old pal testified. He said Robbie said he raped Tracy Stewart. I believed him. I couldn’t read the jury. I figured their response was, So what? Robbie’s in prison already. You can’t discredit Robbie. He upstaged you with his self-immolation. We’re tired. We want to go home. Thanks for the ride. We’ve got jury box whiplash. It was fun. It was groovier and less protracted than the Simpson mess. We got sex and family discord. We bypassed the scientific shit and the specious rants on race. The lounge act blitzed the Main Room show.
The trial was almost over. Bill predicted a fast guilty verdict. Gloria Stewart could stand up in court and confront Daddy Beckett. She could abuse him. She could beg for Tracy’s body. The Victim Confrontation was new legal stuff. It promoted victim’s rights and psychological cleansing. I told Bill I didn’t want to see the closing arguments and the Stewart confrontation. Daddy would yawn. Gloria would say her piece and go on grieving. The confrontation law was passed by morons hooked on daytime TV I didn’t want to see Gloria’s audition. I didn’t want to see her as a professional victim. Bill never introduced us. He never told her who I was or who I lost in June ’58. He knew we’d have nothing to say to each other. He knew I never hurt like she did.
The Beckett trial lasted two weeks. Bill and I drove up in separate cars every day. Bill went out with Dale Davidson and Charlie Guenther most nights. They’d hook up with Phil Vanatter sometimes. Vanatter was famous now. He worked the murder case of the century. The Beckett crew went out to celebrate the end of the trial. Vanatter went with them. Bill invited me. I took a pass. I wasn’t a cop or a deputy district attorney. I didn’t want to talk shop with pros. I didn’t want to commiserate or discuss the farcical aspects of the Simpson case. I was running low on white man’s outrage. The LAPD kicked indiscriminate black ass for 50-plus years. Mark Fuhrman was Jack Webb with fangs. DNA was unassailably precise and confusing. Racist conspiracies carried more dramatic weight. Bill knew it. He was too gracious to rub it in Phil Vanatter’s face. Marcia Clark needed a black Robbie Beckett. A black Robbie could indict OJ. with home-grown soul. Justice was politics and theater. O. J. Simpson wasn’t Emmett Till or the Scottsboro Boys. Victimhood was