Chapter Forty-Seven

The Trial

Bill

This trial meant more to me than anyone. Maybe not quite anyone. Clay Jackson. He had a bigger stake in it than even I. Then, if it hadn’t been for him, we wouldn’t be in this ghastly situation.

Before Baldwin came forward to question me, I scanned the room and came to stare at Clay Jackson. As soon as he saw me focus on him, he quickly looked down at his folded hands.

Baldwin began, “Are you the William Cunningham, former owner of Gunderson Groves Limited and the husband of Mary Cunningham, the son of Ida Mae Cunningham who were murdered on October 31, 1971 and the father of Mary Cunningham’s children who were also murdered on that date?”

I focused my gaze on Clay Jackson, for I knew he’d eventually look at me. “Yes, I am.”

“Can you describe to the court the events of the night of October 31, 1971?”

“It was a Sunday evening…”

I continued telling the court about that fateful night—the noise I heard, being knocked unconscious, beaten, and awakening in the crawlspace of my own home, and then struggling to get into my locked house. I reiterated my arduous task entering the house through the crawlspace. I described the horrific scenes in the kitchen and my mother’s bedroom. At that point I had to stop my testimony. As I was narrating, against my will, I was revisiting those horrid scenes, and I found myself struggling to speak. Baldwin realized my predicament and requested a short recess. Instead, the judge ordered a lunch break.

Our group gathered outside in the courtyard. Danielle remarked about my emotional state. “Will you be able to finish your testimony?”

“This is more difficult than I thought. I’ve tried to block out the memories for so long, and now I have to remember every detail.”

Danielle put her arm tightly around me and laid her head on my shoulder. Andrew, seated on the other side of me, grabbed my arm and clasped my hand in his. I took deep breaths to help relax.

Andrew suggested, “Maybe we can get Baldwin to postpone the rest of your testimony until tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t want to wait another day. The dread and anticipation would only make it worse.”

Frankie was quietly observing this emotional difficulty. “Grandpa, if every time you feel you’re having a hard time talking, how about if you look at me? I can make a funny face so you won’t feel so bad. Do you think that’ll work?”

I smiled at this precious lad. “Son, your idea might work. I’m just not sure how the judge will react to it.”

“If I get in trouble, I’ll just stop. What do you think, Dad?”

“It’s worth a try. If the judge reprimands you, stop immediately. Otherwise, he’ll send you out of the courtroom.”

Upon reentering the courtroom, I was called back to the witness stand. “Mr. Cunningham, can you continue your testimony?”

I looked at Frankie. He puckered up his lips and opened his eyes wide, giving me an example of what was to come. “Yes, I’m ready.”

I described the scene in the living room. As I told in detail what I saw, I began to tremble. I looked at Frankie. He was sticking his tongue out and raising his eyebrows up and down. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.

I next recounted the condition of each of my children’s bedrooms. With each description, Frankie gave me a different comical face. Just as I was about to describe Travis’ bedroom, the judge stopped me. I saw him look at me, then at Frankie.

“Mr. Cunningham, what is that young man in the front row doing?”

I cleared my throat. “Your Honor, Frank Reynolds is helping me get through this testimony. This is very difficult for me. Frankie suggested a way to get me through it. Neither he nor I mean any disrespect to you or anyone. It’s just our way to cope with this challenging task.”

“Mr. Baldwin, did you know about this arrangement?”

I answered for Baldwin before he had a chance. “If I may, Your Honor, he didn’t know. We decided this on the lunch break. Please let us continue. With his help, I know I can finish my testimony.”

At first the judge didn’t respond. Then he affirmed, “It’s unconventional, but I suppose there’s no harm. Mr. Cunningham, you may continue.”

I told the courtroom about the murder scenes of the rest of my children, getting through my testimony with Frankie’s unique assistance.

Next, I told how I finally realized I was assumed killed in that massacre and my best friend was a suspect in the murders. For the rest of the testimony I described how I had lived for the last forty plus years.

When I completed my testimony, Baldwin asked, “How did you find out you had a half-brother?”

I took a deep breath, envisioning when Frankie and I had found the letter Clay Jackson had sent my mother. I told of Frankie’s unique discovery. Then I told of finding Clay Jackson’s birth certificate.

Baldwin interrupted me to enter into evidence Jackson’s letter. Then he asked, “Are you telling this court Claude Jordan is your half-brother?”

“Yes.”

After Baldwin was seated, Gary Palmer sauntered over toward me. His mannerism showed he planned to do his best to discredit everything I said.

“Mr. Cunningham. I understand you’re on some pretty heavy medication. Am I correct?”

“I’m on medication for my heart.”

“Do you take any type of prescriptions for memory loss or any other mental disorder?”

“Objection! The witness has already stated he only takes medication for a heart condition, not a mental disorder.”

The judge agreed. “Mr. Palmer, you seem to be fixated on mental diseases. The witness does not need to answer that question. Move on.”

Palmer paced around the gallery for a few seconds before questioning me again. Then he asked, “I understand your wife was pregnant at the time of her death. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” I answered with my eyes cast downward.

“Were you aware of the rumor the baby may not have been your child?”

This man was getting on my nerves. “No. I was not aware of such rumors.”

“The rumor was your wife was having an affair with your best friend, Daniel Reynolds.”

“Objection!” Baldwin proclaimed. “Can Mr. Palmer substantiate these so-called rumors?”

“Your Honor, I intend to present witnesses to that effect.”

“I will allow the line of questioning for now, but Mr. Palmer, you’d better be sure you can provide those witnesses.”

Palmer continued in his irritating manner. “Mr. Cunningham, were you aware of these rumors?”

I was seething. Not only was my wife and best friend murdered, but this man was trying to tarnish my memory of them. It wouldn’t work. I held my temper as best I could. “No. I was not aware of any such rumors. Even if I were, I would know they were false. Just because in this world there are monsters like the man who murdered my family does not mean my wife or my best friend were capable of such a despicable act. You are reaching for straws, Mr. Palmer.”

The judge reminded me, “Mr. Cunningham, please just answer the question.”

Heatedly, I repeated, “No, Mr. Palmer. I was not aware of any such rumors.”

Palmer then really hit a nerve. “Do you think that being unfaithful to one’s spouse could be a reason for killing him or her?”

“Objection! Objection. That question is absurd.”

“Mr. Palmer, that’s enough.” reprimanded the judge.

I felt my face turning red and my body starting to sweat. Luckily, as I looked into the audience, Frankie was putting his thumbs in his ears, wiggling his hands, and sticking his tongue in and out as fast as he could. I kept staring at that funny face until I was able to control my emotions.

Then the judge said, “This witness is excused.”