CHAPTER 40
DOWN, BUT NOT OUT
By morning I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd be convicted. Bart had spent the night with me and tried hard to keep my spirits up. But I had spent enough time in the courtroom to recognize imminent defeat. Whoever had set me up had done a splendid job and I was sure they were enjoying every minute of the trial. Bart was sure that, even if they convicted me, I wouldn't get jail time. He had talked to Silvey and got the impression that the DA wasn't after blood. He just wanted to put me on the sidelines in the Dusty Thomas case. That got me to thinking that maybe the FBI had something to do with the setup.
Although we tried to avoid the crowd of reporters who had assembled in front of the Dallas County courthouse, several of them managed to spot us heading toward a private entrance on the north side of the building. They blocked the door and struck microphones in our faces.
"What do you think the jury will do, Miss Waters?" A reporter shouted.
"I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see," I replied.
"If you're convicted, will you still be able to assist Stan Turner in the Dusty Thomas case?" Another reporter asked.
I shrugged and slipped inside the building through a door Bart had managed to open. He closed the door behind us. We took the stairs to the second floor and then walked to the elevators to go to the sixth floor, where the trial was being conducted. When the elevator door opened, cameras flashed and we were again barraged by reporters. Two bailiffs helped Bart clear a path, and we proceeded to the courtroom. The courtroom was locked to spectators, so we were escorted through the back hallway and allowed to enter from the judge’s chambers. Stan was already there waiting for us.
"Good morning," Stan said.
Bart nodded and helped me off with my coat.
"Well, I wonder how long the jury will be out?" Stan asked.
"Probably not long," I said. "We didn't give them much to work with."
Stan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Paula. I really didn't expect our case to fall apart the way it did. I still haven't given up. I've got a friend at the CIA checking out Don Harris and S & T Packing. He may turn up something to connect Garcia to Don Harris. You never know. We might still pull this out."
"It's okay, Stan. You did the best you could. Like you said, we dealing with some very powerful people. We were outgunned from day one."
"We may be outgunned but we haven't lost the war yet," Stan said. "I won't sit still until I've cleared your name and nailed Don Harris. That son of a bitch isn't going to get away with this."
Stan was a fighter and I believed what he was saying. He wouldn't give up, but I was afraid he had met his match. Whether it was Don Harris or the federal government who had decided to attack me personally, it didn't matter. They had one distinct advantage—we were playing by the rules, but they were not. They would do whatever it took to win. They cared nothing about justice or the legal system. This was a matter of winning—of survival at all costs.
At about ten o'clock, the bailiff came in and advised us the jury had reached a verdict. My heart skipped a beat as the moment of truth was at hand. The bailiff opened the courtroom doors and excited reporters and spectators filed in like they were going to a hockey game. Stan put his arms around me and gave me a hug. I smiled and wondered if I'd made a mistake letting him defend me. He had suggested it might be better for me to have separate representation but I wouldn't hear of it. I thought back and tried to think what we could have done differently to prepare for trial. Nothing concrete jumped out at me.
The bailiff announced the judge was entering the courtroom. Everyone got to their feet and watched the judge take the bench. The jury was brought in, and the judge asked the jury foreman if they had reached a verdict. The foreman said they had and the bailiff took a small piece of paper up to the judge. He looked at it without emotion and then folded it back up and gave it to the bailiff. The bailiff returned it to the foreman.
"How do you find?" the judge asked.
The foreman opened the paper and said, "We the jury find the defendant, Paula Waters, guilty on the charge of failing to stop and render reasonable assistance."
The crowd broke out in excited chatter. The judge banged his gavel and demanded order. The crowd quieted down and the judge thanked the jury and dismissed them. After the judge had left Stan turned and looked at me.
"I'm sorry, Paula. This was all my fault. If I—"
I put a finger on Stan's lips. "Shhh. It was nobody's fault. Just forget about me and concentrate on nailing Don Harris. If you do that then I'll be vindicated."
"Right. I just wish you could still work on the case. You were doing such a great job. I don't know what I'm going to do without you."
"You'll find someone to replace me. Don't worry. Jodie can help you out in the meantime."
Stan and I embraced and then Bart took me home. The judge and the DA had agreed I could stay out on bond pending my sentencing hearing. It was a tearful night. One of the worst I've ever been through. I was just glad Bart was there to comfort me.
The following week at my sentencing hearing Judge Justice gave me the maximum penalty the law provided. He scolded and berated me for my conduct and for trying to blame the whole affair on others. I was never so humiliated in my life and just wanted to die.
Somehow Stan got the DA and the judge to allow me to stay out of jail pending my appeal. As a condition of the deal, I had to agree to surrender my law license pending a resolution of my criminal conviction. This was particularly painful since it meant I couldn't help Stan nail Don Harris and prove Dusty Thomas innocent—at least officially. There was no way I was going to sit around my condo all day when there was so much work to be done. I'd just have to be discreet.