“Just tell the court what happened, please,” broke in Gifford.
“Okay. I walked up to Arthur and I says to him, ‘Arthur, you bastard, (this time the judge ignored the remark), your time is up. I been thinkin’ about payin’ you back for all those years I spent with Mary Ann and now it’s gonna happen.’
“And I shot him in the chest with my 30-30. He tried to shoot me back, and he even pulled the trigger, but he was too weak to aim, ’n he died. He fell on top a his rifle. He couldn’t even open the breach to eject the shell before he kicked off.”
Every member of the jury was sitting forward, listening to every word. Indeed, so were the judge and everyone else in the courtroom except for Gerald Copeland and Sheriff Turner. They were leaning back in their chairs whispering.
“Then what happened?” continued Gifford.
“I threw down my rifle and knelt down beside Arthur, and JP came running over the hill, just like I ’spected he would. I made out I was trying to help Arthur and when JP asked what happened, I tol’ him that I fired at a deer, but Arthur, he moved in front of me just as I pulled the trigger and he fired back at me. He was too weak to aim and he missed me. Then he died. First thing somebody else come along and said he would go get the sheriff and we waited. That was basically the truth except it was Arthur I fired at, not a deer.
“I picked up the two rifles, JP’s and mine, and took them up to JP’s truck and mine. I got them mixed up and put my rifle in JP’s truck and his rifle in mine. When the sheriff got there, ’bout three-quarters of an hour later, he found the rifle beside Arthur, broke it open and found that it had a shell but no bullet. Then he wanted to know where the other guns were, ’n I tol’ him where I had put them. I tol’ him about the accident, as I called it, and he went and fetched the guns. When he broke open the one in JP’s truck, he found mine and it had been fired, but he didn’t know it was mine. He didn’t break open the one in my truck, just put it back in the gun rack. I was really sweatin’ that he was gonna rack it open and see that it hadn’t been fired and then he’d know my story was a lie, but he didn’t.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nelson.” Gifford turned to Judge Holman. “That was the whole point of my experiment with the 30-30 rifles this morning, Your Honour. You can see how easy it is to get those rifles mixed up. Now I see that the bailiff has returned with what I believe are the finger prints of Arthur Nelson.” He turned to his desk and picked up a parcel that had been sitting there. He quickly unwrapped the parcel from the towel that surrounded it. “This is a standard fingerprint kit, Your Honour, and I would ask you to have Sheriff Turner take the prints of the witness and compare them with the sheet that the bailiff just handed you.”
“Your Honour, I must protest. This is highly irregular.” Gerald Copeland was red-faced and obviously very annoyed.
“You are correct there, Mr. Copeland, replied Judge Holman, but we have begun this process and we are going to continue it to the end. If you wish to lodge an appeal in good time, that is your right as State Attorney. Sheriff Turner, please take the fingerprints, as many as you need, and show me the result.”
The courtroom was not exactly silent, but there was only a slight buzz of conversation as the spectators were too involved in watching the fingerprinting take place. The procedure did not take long, and the sheriff silently passed the sheet of white paper with the witness’s prints on it to the Judge. Judge Holman studied the two sheets carefully, then called the two lawyers to the bench where he showed them the sheets. He didn’t say a word, just showed them where he had marked the witness’s prints as Hansford Nelson, and set them beside the official page marked Arthur Nelson.
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it,” Judge Holman said in a low voice, “that the witness is Hansford Nelson?”
Gifford said, “When JP said ‘My uncle’ he meant Hansford. He knew because he had been told that Arthur was his real father so Hansford was his uncle. When the sheriff said, ‘You’re under arrest for killing your father, JP thought he meant Arthur and he denied it, but the sheriff was referring to Hansford.
Copeland, sighed and said, “I’ll make the required motion.” Both men returned to their tables. Copeland remained standing. Gifford sat down and patted his client on the back. JP smiled for the first time that day.
“Your Honour,” said Gerald Copeland, the State moves that all charges against Jacky Paul Nelson be withdrawn. The State also moves that Hansford Nelson be charged with the murder of his brother Arthur.”
The court accepts your first motion, Mr. Copeland. The charges are officially dropped. Mr. Nelson,” he turned to JP, “you are free to go.”
Then he turned to the jury. “Members of the jury, I thank you for the time you have committed to this trial. You are also free to go.” None of the members of the jury, sensing that there was more to come moved. “As to the second motion, the court rejects it.” He turned to the man still sitting quietly in the witness chair. “Hansford, I will not order that you be charged with murder. You have been punished enough, I think, by having lived twenty years with Mary Ann Coulter Nelson. As you know, she was my sister-in-law, and I am aware that everything you said about her was true. I also believe that if Dr. Henderson told you that your cancer will take your life in six months or less, that will be an extra punishment as you wait out the time. You also are free to go.”
Judge Holman rapped his gavel once more. “Court is dismissed,” he proclaimed, and left the courtroom.