Murder on Pine Island Bayou

Chapter 1 

Batson, Texas

4 P.M. November 17,1989

The grim-faced hunter slowed down and came to a stop at the only red light. Through narrow eyelids he looked around menacingly. He turned right and pressed on the accelerator. The twin tail pipes roared in response as he drove through the old town. After two miles he again slowed as the concrete pavement ended at a cattle guard, which joined it to the ancient, part shell, part dirt road that snaked its way through deep ruts and holes in the old oil field. The road came to a fork, with one arm running northeast and the other arm to the southeast. Christmas trees, pumping wells, and tank batteries extended in three directions to a distant wood line, marking the separation of the old field from the new.

The hunter turned north and passed through the remainder of the old field until he came to the wood line. The road again forked, with a dirt road to the north and a much-traveled shell road to the east. He hesitated, then drove slowly north on the dirt road. He passed over an old wooden bridge and came to a stop at a gate in the five-strand barbed wire fence that blocked the road. A large sign was clearly visible:

NO TRESPASSING AMERICAN EASTEX OIL COMPANY

The hunter pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. He removed his automatic shotgun from its rack. He quietly closed the door of his pickup and walked over to the fence. He stepped through it and walked up the road to where it curved back to the west. Following the tree line, he slipped past a warehouse until he could see a white mobile home sitting on stationary blocks. The door was open and through the screen he could see a light and evidence of movement. There was music and laughter. A pickup was parked a few yards away, parallel to the road.

He quietly walked to the door unnoticed. He pointed the shotgun straight ahead from the hip. He bounded up the steps, burst through the unlocked screen door, and screamed with rage as he fired.

Taylor Boudreaux was seated at the table facing the door, and Terry Yberri was seated across the table from him and slightly to his left as the hunter came through the door. Taylor received the first shot in the center of his chest and died instantly. Terry Yberri screamed and, trying to rise, turned toward the gunman. The second blast severed her right hand and tore off the front of her head, killing her instantly.

The hunter carefully pressed the safety. He watched his victims until all movement ceased. He pulled the screen door open with the shotgun, and placing the gun on his shoulder, he calmly walked back to his pickup.

He drove slowly back through the oil field. As he turned on the main road heading toward Old Town, he saw an elderly man walking along the road. The man wore dark glasses and was using a cane to touch the ground in front of him. He was obviously blind. From the bag hanging from his shoulders, it appeared that he was out collecting discarded aluminum cans. The hunter slowed to a stop and watched the old man. After deciding the old man really was blind, the hunter drove off toward the traffic light from which he originally came. He drove straight through the green light and headed south to Raywood. He turned left on U.S. 90, and at Devers he stopped for gasoline.

After paying for his gasoline, he took his change and stepped outside the little convenience store. He located the public phone and looked up the sheriff s number inside the cover of the phone book. He placed coins in the slot and waited.

Liberty County Sheriff s Office, Dispatcher Grimes speaking, came a voice.

I have just shot my wife. She is on the old road north of Batson Oil Field, said the hunter, after which he hung up.

The hunter then got into his pickup and headed east on U.S. 90.

Chapter 2 

Houston, Texas

3 P.M., November 24,1989

I can’t take your cash as a retainer, Mr. Fuentes/’ said Sandra Lerner, considerably annoyed. You take that suitcase full of hundred dollar bills to a bank and deposit it. Then you write me a check, and if it doesn’t bounce, I might consider hearing your cousin’s case—maybe," said Sandra as she lit a little cigar and smoked defiantly.

Si, señora, I think that can be arranged, replied Mr. Fuentes, smiling. Where freedom at stake money is no objection. Mr. Fuentes was a handsome Latino, with his styled hair, closely trimmed mustache, $600 suit, gold cuff links, manicured nails, and highly polished shoes. My cousin will be very happy you take his case. He picked up his suitcase as he rose and started for the door.

Mr. Fuentes, your cousin is a rat! But in North America we believe that even human rats deserve a fair trial and a good defense—whether they can pay or not. If you can’t pass that money on to some unsuspecting bank teller, the state will pay to provide your cousin with a public defender.

I know. Miss Lerner, but my cousin, he wants you, answered Mr. Fuentes as he very graciously excused himself, suitcase in hand.

Miss Lerner, called a voice from the intercom.

Sandra pushed a button and answered, Yes, Betty.

"You have a long distance call. A Mr. Scott Mac-Wright, from the law firm of MacWright, MacWright, and

MacWright of Beaumont, Texas. Shall I put him through or take his number?"

Put Scotty through, Betty, and try not to interrupt us. He’s an old boyfriend of mine from decades past. Maybe he is free and wants a date.

Right, came a quick reply.

Sandra smoked her cigar and waited.

Sandra?

Yes, Scotty?

I need you to help me.

At last you’ve come to your senses, Scotty.

It’s business, Sandra. Murder.

Oh hell, Scott, you want me to kill somebody or get you out of jail?

Neither. I want you to help me defend a client who is in jail waiting to be tried for Murder One, replied Mr. MacWright slowly.

I can’t, Scotty. There’s no way I can get away from here until after Christmas, too many irons in the fire.

We start picking the jury December twenty-sixth, and the trial starts January second up in Woodville.

Woodville! Where’s Woodville? asked Sandra.

About fifty miles north of Beaumont. It’s in Tyler County. The Hardin County Jail was full, and the district courts in Jefferson County have a two-year backlog. Our client is in a private cell in the Tyler County Jail. The district attorney has jurisdiction over Hardin and Tyler counties, and the district judge has jurisdiction over Tyler and Jasper counties, so we all agreed to a change in venue from Hardin County to Tyler County. Woodville is the county seat.

Scotty, you’ve gotten me thoroughly confused. The murder occurred in Hardin County, I guess? Maybe you had better brief me on the details, so I can get it straight in my mind.

Murders, Sandra, plural, two murders. Our client—’Captain’ Gilbert Alfred Yberri, sixty-four years, white, millionaire landowner, oil man, Korean War hero, and eccentric—is accused of murdering his wife and her lover in her boyfriend’s mobile home out in the woods north of the old Batson oil field around four P.M. on November seventeenth. The motive was jealousy, the means was a twelve-gauge shotgun, and the opportunity existed in that Captain Yberri claims he was on a deer stand, about eight miles away, from two P.M. until six P.M., with no witness to verify his whereabouts.

My God, Scotty, you mean he has no alibi? replied Sandra.

That’s right. And furthermore, the spent shells found at the murder scene are the same brand as those in his hunting vest, his palm and fingerprints were on the gate leading to the mobile home, and the Liberty County sheriff received an anonymous phone call around four forty-five P.M. from Devers, Texas, from a man admitting to have shot his wife north of the old Batson oil field.

Liberty County! My God, Scotty, that’s the fifth county you’ve mentioned. I’m going to have to get out my map just to keep the counties straight. Up until ten minutes ago I thought that Harris County was the only place with big-time crime.

Batson is in west Hardin County, about ten miles from the Liberty County line. It’s easily confused, replied Scott.

Not if you’ve lived your entire life in Hardin County. What did the Hardin County sheriff say to that?

"He thinks Captain Yberri deliberately drove to

Devers to make the call to draw them off the track," replied Scott.

Oh, replied Sandra. Why do they call him captain, and what kind of war hero?

He got a battlefield commission in Korea and came home a captain. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for single-handedly holding a hill against a battalion of North Korean infantry with a Browning automatic rifle. They found thirty-five bodies he had killed stacked up in the mouth of a ravine. When he ran out of ammunition, he called friendly artillery fire in on his own position and then killed two more with a bayonet in hand-to-hand combat. When reinforcements arrived, he was the only survivor of his platoon. He probably would have been awarded the Medal of Honor, except he lived to tell the story and there were no eyewitnesses.

Well, he’s going to need an eyewitness to get out of these murders, and we can’t use his war record in our defense either. It’s too bloody. What did Captain Yberri say happened? asked Sandra.

When he came home from hunting, his wife was gone. He called over to his daughter’s and then went out and looked for her. He called the Hardin County sheriff and reported her missing. That’s when the sheriff and his deputies had the gate unlocked and found the bodies. The rest will be in the investigating officer’s and medical examiner’s reports, which have not been finalized. I’ll send you copies as soon as I get them, replied Scott.

Look, Scotty, I take it you’ve got a wife and a houseful of kids and possibly a grandchild or two? asked Sandra.

That’s right, and they are all going to be at my house for the holidays, replied Scott.

Look, you go ahead and sign me in as co-counsel of record, handle the jury selection yourself, and I’ll drive to Beaumont on Saturday, December thirtieth. I’ll check into the Holiday Inn on Walden Road and spend the night. I’ll call you at eight A.M. on Sunday morning, and we can spend the next two days interviewing witnesses and planning our defense.

That sounds good to me, Sandra. It’s a tremendous relief to have you, replied Scott.

Have you got any ideas on how to defend Captain Yberri? The circumstantial evidence is pretty strong, said Sandra, quietly.

"Whitlock versus the State of Texas, Beaumont, Texas, nineteen-forty-eight," replied Scott.

Obviously that was a local case in which the accused was acquitted of murder. Briefly tell me the details, please, replied Sandra.

"Whitlock shot his wife’s lover and accidentally shot his wife while they were embracing.