A Lone Star Christmas

Then Tom Whitman was called to testify. His testimony mirrored that of everyone else, but before he was excused, he asked the judge for permission to make an observation for publici juris.

Judge Blanton and the prosecutor both, blinked in surprise at Tom’s use of the Latin term.

“Are you a lawyer, Mr. Whitman?” the judge asked.

“No, Your Honor.”

“But you wish to make a comment for the public right?”

“For the public’s right to know, yes, Your Honor.”

“Very well, what comment would you make?”

“Your Honor, with regard to Mr. Lovejoy shooting the two men who were already holding their weapons in their hands, I submit to the court, that rather than being fair with them, Lovejoy, in effect, murdered them.”

There were immediate shouts and cries from the court.

“He done it! I seen it myself!” one man yelled. “Them two fellas already had their guns in their hands!”

“Were you a witness to that shooting, Mr. Whitman?” the prosecutor asked.

“No, Your Honor, I was not.”

“Then how can you testify publici juris on something you know nothing about?”

“I said I did not witness the shooting. I didn’t say I didn’t know anything about it. But if what everyone who did see it says is true, if Lovejoy told those men not to draw until they saw him start his draw, then I know that it was nothing short of murder.”

Again there was a loud outbreak of protests and shouts of surprise from the gallery, and Judge Blanton had to still them with his gavel.

“May I explain?” Tom asked.

“Please do.”

“In 1863, a man named Sigmund Exner began a series of experiments with something he calls ‘reaction time.’ Simply put, reaction time is how long it takes a person from the time their brain tells their muscles to do something, until they actually do it. And in something like drawing your pistol upon response to stimuli, that reaction time constitutes the longest period of time of the maneuver. He told the two men to draw when they saw him start his draw.” Tom emphasized that point.

“When Lovejoy started his draw, the longest part of the action, telling his hand to start the draw, had already been accomplished.”

“That’s preposterous,” the prosecutor said.

“Your Honor, if I could have two pistols, and a holster, I could prove this,” Tom said. “Empty pistols,” he added quickly.

The gallery laughed, nervously.

“All right,” the judge agreed. “And I’m doing this more as a matter of curiosity than a matter of law.”

Tom strapped a holster on, then, after both pistols were certified as being empty, he put one in his holster, and handed the other one to the prosecutor.

“The witnesses said that the two men were holding their pistols down by their sides, right?”

“That is correct,” the prosecutor said.

“Judge, Mr. Prosecutor, I am not a skilled gunman. In fact, I wouldn’t even be willing to say that my skills are above average. So I’m going to give this demonstration, then allow the prosecutor to choose anyone from the gallery that he would like to do it a second time to validate this.”

“All right, what exactly are you going to do?” Judge Blanton asked.

“The same thing Lovejoy did,” Tom said. “I want the prosecutor to hold the pistol down by his side. When he sees me start my draw, I want him to raise his pistol up and pull the trigger.”

“Ha!” the prosecutor said. “All right, Mr. Whitman, make a fool out of yourself.”

Tom let his hand hover over the pistol, then quickly he drew it and pulled the trigger. He was able to do so before the prosecutor was able to raise his own gun and pull the trigger. The separation of the two snapping triggers was clearly obvious, and the gallery reacted in disbelief.

“Wait, I wasn’t ready,” the prosecutor protested.

“Shall we do it again?” Tom asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Again Tom drew the pistol, and again he clearly beat the reaction time of the prosecutor.

“All right, all right, I want to see someone else do that,” the prosecutor said, and he chose two men at random from the gallery. Once the experiment was set up, the man drawing from the holster won every time.

“Thank you, Mr. Whitman, for this—most interesting experiment,” Judge Blanton said. “Now, may I ask how this contributes to the publici juris?”

“Because, Your Honor, the public has the right to know that Frank Lovejoy’s quickness as a pistoleer cannot be validated by the example of his killing the two soldiers in the earlier incident.”

“All right, Mr. Whitman, as I decide this, I will take the information you have so pointedly demonstrated into consideration,” Judge Blanton said.

“Your Honor, may we get on with the trial?” the prosecutor asked.

“Please do, Counselor,” Judge Blanton said.

Marcus Doyle was the next witness. “I don’t care what tricks this Whitman fella showed everyone,” Doyle said with a sneer. “’Cause it don’t have nothin’ to do with the fact that this man,” he pointed toward Matt Jensen, “kilt Frank Lovejoy. The way this whore,” he pointed to Rebecca, “and the other people been tellin’ what happened, ain’t what happened at all,” Doyle said.

There was a gasp of reproach from most of the gallery, and Judge Blanton banged his gavel.

“Would the court reporter please strike the word whore?” Judge Blanton said. He pointed at Doyle. “Any further comments like that, Mr. Doyle, and I will find you in contempt of court. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“You may continue with your testimony.”

“Well, sir, Frank was sittin’ at the table with some of us riders from the Back Trail Ranch, when we seen what we thought was a fight between the boy there,” he pointed to Dalton, “and the—uh—woman named Becca. And Frank, thinkin’ the woman might be in danger, went over to help her. I mean that’s all it was. Frank was just lookin’ out for the girl. Next thing you know, why they was two men a’drawin’ on him. Frank managed to kill one of them, but the other one, that one,” he pointed to Matt, “kilt Frank.”

“Let the record show that the witness pointed to Matt Jensen,” the prosecutor said. “Please continue.”

“Yes, sir, well, I ain’t really got nothin’ more to say,” Doyle said. “Like I said, both of ’em drawed on Frank, but he was able to fight off only one of ’em.”

The next two testimonies were so close, not only to Doyle’s but to each other, that it was quickly obvious they had been rehearsed. In addition, they were all employees of Seth Lovejoy.

The last witness for the prosecution was a man named Emerson Morrell. “I don’t care what kind of tricks this fella showed you, there wasn’t nobody faster than Frank Lovejoy, and ever’ one knew that. When this here Matt Jensen fella come up on Frank, he already had his gun in his hand. And there wasn’t no waitin’ for Frank to draw, like he was showin’ us while ago. What he done was just commence shooting without so much as a fare-thee- well.”

“Your Honor,” Tom called out after the witness named Morrell had been excused. “May I speak?”

“You have already testified, Mr. Whitman,” Judge Blanton said. “Cadit Quaestio.”

“May I take extraordinary exception to the ruling of no further argument, Your Honor?” Tom said. “This man has just perjured himself.”

“The fact that his testimony is in direct opposition to the testimony of others is a part of this trial,” Judge Blanton said. “It may well be that Mr. Morrell saw things differently. That does not necessarily constitute perjury.”

“Emerson Morrell has just testified that the gun was already in Mr. Jensen’s hand when he approached Frank Lovejoy, and that Mr. Jensen opened fire without any warning. Mr. Morrell cannot testify to that fact, Your Honor,