But Nina needed Wish to tell the judge about himself, based on a gut-level judgment: that Salas would find points of commonality with Wish that might develop into sympathy and understanding. Salas didn’t like her much, but for all his possible bias she felt that his intentions with regard to his responsibility were serious.
The judge paid attention and took notes. She had surprised him by making the hearing real, not just a pro forma exercise. Part of her calculation had involved the fact that he was new on the bench and still capable of being surprised. He also was not as detached as he would become; he still took some things personally, she had noticed. If she could involve him in Wish’s story, show him someone telling the truth-
And now he was involved, listening intently. Wish was explaining why he had driven all the way to San Juan Bautista for medical treatment.
“All I could think about was getting away. I decided not to go home because he might follow me there, so I headed the other way, toward Salinas. Then I thought he was behind me and I got on 101 and kept driving, but I think I was getting faint or delirious or something. I had been feeling very blurry, but now I started feeling a lot of pain all over. I realized I had to go to a hospital. I was at the turnoff for San Juan Bautista so I went there and stopped at the gas station to ask where the hospital was.”
“And you subsequently checked in at the Las Flores Clinic?”
“They admitted me overnight and kept me there the next day. They were worried about infection on my leg and thought I had a concussion. Turned out I did have a concussion.”
Nina showed him photos marked in evidence showing Wish’s injuries, which Paul had taken just before his shower on the night of his arrest, and he authenticated these. Now Salas had in-your-face evidence that Wish also had an impact injury.
It’s coming together, she thought with gathering excitement, and she brought out the photographs taken by Wish’s Canon. She passed a set out to Jaime, then handed a marked set to the clerk. Up they went to the judge.
“Now, Mr. Whitefeather. You testified that in the course of the fire you took photographs at the moment you believed you saw the arsonist running down the trail?”
“Yes.” Wish sat forward in the witness stand, fanning out the photos. “Then I popped out the memory card and stuck it in my pocket, and then I popped in another memory card before I started running and dropped the camera.”
“Are these the twelve photos you took numbered in the sequence in which you took them?” Don’t dither, she prayed, don’t say I think so or that’s what Paul said. She had given Wish the set as soon as she had prints and Wish had told her he could identify the shots.
She needn’t have worried. “Yes,” Wish said positively.
“Nine of these have no people in them?”
“Correct.” Nina paused to let the judge and prosecutor confirm this for themselves, and to see the flames, the forest, the night.
“I direct your attention to Photographs Number One, Three, and Four. Would you pull those out, please.”
“Okay.”
“Are all three of these photographs of the same person?”
“No. There are two people here. One person in Number One, and then two shots of another person in Numbers Three and Four.”
She had done it, provided hard evidence that someone else was on the mountain. Jaime was still looking from one photograph to the other. Salas was nodding. A lot of hard work was paying off.
“May I approach the witness?” Nina asked Salas. He nodded, and she went up to Wish at the witness stand and took the first photo, Number One, Danny holding his hand up to shield his face, saying something.
“This first photo? Do you recognize the man?”
“Yes.”
“Who is it?”
“A man named Robert Johnson,” Wish said. Nina shook her head and tried again.
“Look again, please. Tell us who this man is.”
“It’s Coyote. Robert Johnson.”
“B-but that’s Danny Cervantes, isn’t it?”
Wish looked hard at the photo.
“No, that’s Coyote.”
“Well, let’s take a look at Numbers Three and Four,” Nina said, to give Wish a chance to get his head straight. He had been doing so well! “Those are photos of the same person, you said. Do you recognize that person?”
“Yes. It’s Danny Cervantes.”
“Don’t you have it backward?”
Jaime was up. “I must object. She’s cross-examining her own witness at this point. He’s made the identifications.” Nina rolled her eyes at Wish, trying to get him to wake up from whatever dream he was in. But Wish just looked back at her, wide-eyed.
“What’s the problem?” Salas asked her.
“Well, it was my understanding-it’s clear that-let me just confirm this identification, Your Honor.”
“Go ahead. It’s important. Objection overruled.”
“Let’s go back to Photo Number One. What is that person wearing?”
“Dark shirt and pants. Doc Martens.”
“And who is that person? Look carefully, Wish.”
“That’s Robert Johnson.”
“But-look at Numbers Three and Four. Please notice what that man is wearing on his feet.”
“Jeans and a white T-shirt. He must have taken off the jacket, it was so hot. And black Nikes. Nikes! That’s Danny. That’s it! I knew something was wrong about the shoes the doctor was talking about! Remember yesterday, Nina? She said Danny had Doc Martens on his feet! Now, how could that be! How? How?”
“Take it easy, sir,” Salas told Wish, who had half gotten up.
“One moment, please,” Nina said, and walked back to the counsel table where Paul was waiting. “Help!” she whispered.
“You got me,” Paul said. “Maybe Wish is all mixed up. Go back and try again.”
She stood up straight again and said, “Mr. Whitefeather, did you specifically notice the shoes Mr. Cervantes was wearing when he came to your home to ask you to go to the ridge that night?”
“I sure did,” Wish said. “He wore black Nikes. I remember up on the ridge he got mad at me because his shoes were so much quieter than my boots.”
“But you’ve heard the testimony that Mr. Cervantes was wearing Doc Martens when he was found?”
“Yeah. And I think I know where they came from. That’s what Coyote was wearing. You can see, here, in Number One. Black Doc Martens.”
“But that can’t be,” Nina said.
“But it is!”
“I’m not following, Counsel,” Judge Salas said. Jaime was shaking his head, baffled. Nina was not following either.
Coyote wore Doc Martens. Therefore the body was Coyote. But the body wore a white T-shirt, jeans, Danny’s concho belt… therefore the body was Danny…
Wish said, “Can I say something?”
Salas spread his hands. “Can you shed some light on this?”
“Those boots take a long time to unlace.”
“So?”
“So the feet in the boots were Coyote’s feet. That’s for sure.”
“Ah-ha,” Salas said, tapping his pencil on his dais. “So-”
Wish was pounding his fist into the palm of his other hand, blinking as he tried to figure it out. Jaime’s eyes were shut as if in prayer. Paul was staring fixedly at his shoes.
But it was Nina who got it clearly into her noggin first. “So the feet in the Nikes are still running around somewhere, Your Honor,” Nina said. “Which would mean that Danny Cervantes is alive.”
“Wow,” Wish said. “I can’t believe it. That is so-that is so-maybe it isn’t.”
“Wish,” Nina said, “is it your testimony that the man in Photos Number Three and Four, who is wearing shoes that are obviously not Doc Martens boots, is Danny Cervantes?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you. I have nothing further. Your Honor, I move for a dismissal of all murder and manslaughter charges in the complaint, on grounds that there is no probable cause to believe that the defendant committed any crime against Daniel Cervantes.”
“We’re all pretty excited,” Salas said. “But I’m not so excited that I won’t let Mr. Sandoval cross-examine. It is now the lunch hour. We will resume at one-thirty. Jaime, why don’t you and this lady talk to each other.”