Page 76 of Resurrection Walk

“Thank you, Judge. Cindi, would you show us what you were taught by your husband?”

Lucinda stepped down into the well, the open space in front of the judge’s bench. She spread her feet at least two feet apart for stability and brought her arms up straight and extended at shoulder height. She used her left hand to steady her right, the index finger pointing like the barrel of a gun.

“Like this,” she said.

“Okay, thank you,” I said. “You can return to the witness stand.”

As Lucinda returned, I went to the plaintiff’s table to get a file. I opened it and asked permission to show two photographs to the witness. I gave copies to Morris, even though he had already received these in discovery and they had been part of the so-called evidence against Lucinda five years before. I also gave copies to the judge. They showed Lucinda at the range, holding a gun in the same stance she had just demonstrated in the courtroom.

“Mr. Haller, I’m concerned,” the judge said after reviewing the photos. “You are asking to place into exhibit two photos that would tend to show that your client had access to a firearm and knew how to use it. Are you sure this is wise?”

“It’s one of the dots, Your Honor,” I said. “And the court will soon understand that the photos are exculpatory, not damning to my client’s cause.”

“Very well,” Coelho said. “It’s your show.”

I walked a third set of photos to the witness stand and put them down in front of Lucinda.

“Lucinda, can you identify when and where those two photos were taken?” I asked.

“I don’t know the exact date,” Lucinda said. “But it was when Robbie taught me how to shoot. This was the range we would go to in Sand Canyon.”

“Sand Canyon — is that in the Antelope Valley?”

“I think it’s Santa Clarita Valley.”

“But nearby?”

“Yes, not too far.”

“Okay, in that second photo, who is that man next to you?”

“That’s Robbie.”

“Your husband at the time.”

“Yes.”

“Who took that photo?”

“It was one of his friends from the unit. He was teaching his wife how to shoot there too.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Keith Mitchell.”

“Okay, and in the pictures, the gun you are holding, where is that now?”

“I don’t know.”

“When you and your husband divorced, did he leave you any of the guns he possessed?”

“No, none. I didn’t want them in my house. Not with my son there.”

I nodded as if her answer were important and looked at my legal pad, where I had outlined my examination. I used a pen to check off the different avenues of questioning I had covered.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go back to the night of your ex-husband’s death. What happened after you opened the door for the deputy and saw Roberto’s body on the lawn? Was he facedown or face up?”

“Facedown,” Lucinda replied.

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