Tippy had left the weekend copies of the Whitehorse Star in Beau’s room and he’d had a chance to go through them when he’d returned Sunday. He was not expecting much. The judge had given the publisher a public knuckle wrapping he wouldn’t soon forget and Beau assumed Peter Franklyn, the young reporter, had been put on a tight leash. 

He had made his decision though. He would call Joe Stokes in his own defence. These decisions are always imperfect thought Beau but on balance he decided he had to take the risk of Joe blowing up on the stand. He knew the jury would feel sorry for him, if he could survive Gallagher’s cross examination. That big ‘if’ would make or break the outcome.

Beau left his room earlier than usual and headed over to the Taku diner for breakfast. 

“Hi there Mr. Jackson, how are you doing today?” Ruby always made Beau feel better, one of those happy people who can lift your spirits at “Hi there.”

“Good morning Ruby. Actually I’m feeling great. I went out to Loon Lake with a friend and had an incredible time. Thanks for asking. I’ll have the breakfast special, thanks.”

“Coming right up, Mr. Jackson.” and she turned back to the kitchen. A few minutes later she was back.

“Here you go then and I know you like your Star in the mornings. I see the trial is coming to an end pretty soon. I gather you’ll be leaving us in a few days.” Ruby put the Whitehorse Star down in front of a slightly puzzled Beau.

“More coffee?”

“A motion for mistrial m’ Lord.” 

There are moments in every major criminal trial where everything stands in the balance and Beau knew, this was that moment. 

“Dismiss the jury.” the judge ordered, not taking his eyes off Beau.

“Mr. Jackson, let me ask you to take a moment to consider your position. I am certain my words last week were heard loud and clear. I cannot imagine the Whitehorse Star has given you more reason to move for mistrial. You have done a fine job defending Mr. Stokes in the face of a very difficult set of facts. You have this court’s respect. But let me now be clear with you.  If I find that this motion is specious and without merit I will hold you in contempt and have you reported to your Law Society for a conduct review.”

If there was any doubt before the judge spoke, there was none now. In tone and words the judge was intimidating. Beau was on very thin ice.

“M’ Lord, I don’t need time to reflect.”

Beau picked up the morning copy of the Star and held it up for the judge to see.

‘TRIAL ENDS SOON: STOKES PLANNED MURDER’

“I take no pleasure in standing for the third mistrial motion m’ Lord. And I know that I may face professional censure. But I must bring this to your attention. The confidential source they refer to in this Star article has not been a witness in this case. The reporter apparently met him in a bar during Break Out. He doesn’t even know Joe Stokes, he has never even met him. When you read the story you’ll see that this so called ‘confidential source’ was simply telling Mr. Franklyn, the Star’s young reporter, what he’d heard from his buddies. It doesn’t even qualify as hearsay, it is hearsay of hearsay and nothing could more obviously prejudice the outcome of this trial than this article!”

Beau caught a look at Gallagher out of the corner of his eyes. He knew that after last week’s explosion in court Gallagher had visited with the publisher and Franklyn personally, no doubt emphasizing in no uncertain terms that they could be screwing up his trial. Beau pressed his advantage. 

“I am without words m’ Lord. All I am left to say is that the Whitehorse Star appears to have waged a campaign to ensure Mr. Stokes is convicted of first degree murder. I have reviewed the press coverage all the way back to 1974, when Mr. Woods was shot and I can tell you that this has been the case from the beginning.”

Bear Jackson bent down and lifted two big stacks of newspapers, all of them the Whitehorse Star, placing them both on his desk.

“I used to think it was just inexperience, the inexperience of a young reporter but after your admonition last week to the publisher, with Mr. Franklyn in the gallery to hear your comments, I now think that it has been intentional from the very start. The Whitehorse Star has displayed an intentional bias throughout this trial with a goal of ensuring a second conviction for first degree murder. The Star has waged a media campaign to influence the jury and I cannot help but think they may have succeeded. In any event m’ Lord I believe it is no longer safe to leave this case with the jury.”

Beau wanted to continue. He had a full head of steam and was on a roll. He knew could suck the oxygen out of a room with the best of them. Earlier in his career he would have kept going but he had learned that it is sometimes best to let words breathe and for that they needed silence. Beau stopped talking. Nobody spoke.

Gallagher stood to reply.

“No need Mr. Gallagher.”

Beau’s head dropped. That was always a judge’s signal that there was no merit to the argument he had just heard, signalling there was no need to reply. He had been sure he had the judge’s attention but he was wrong. He steeled himself.

“Mr. Gallagher, go with Mr. Jackson and work this out! This Court will reconvene after lunch.”

Beau was stunned. And so apparently was Gallagher.

“M’ Lord, if I may?” Gallagher pleaded with the judge.

“No, Mr. Gallagher you may not! You have had every opportunity afforded you to prevent this from happening. Sort this out with Mr. Jackson. Be back in court after lunch.” 

The judge turned and left the courtroom, slamming the door behind him.

BACK TO THE BEGINNING

It took two minutes.

“Give me second degree and we’ll plead today.”

“That’s ridiculous.” came Gallagher’s sharp rebuke.

“No, what is ridiculous is your failure to get that reporter and his publisher under control. You overcharged Stokes from the beginning, this was never a first degree case and you knew it. But you also knew the emotions of this town would play into a conviction for first degree. And it worked the first time around. So you play by the sword, you die by the sword Mr. Gallagher and now it is my turn.” Beau finally had Gallagher pinned and he was not about to let him off the mat.

All the tensions of the trial were released. The lack of respect, the punitive arguments, the personal insults, Beau had taken note of it all.

“This jury is poisoned and you sat back and watched that happen, and you were all too pleased to see it happen again. You never took control of the publisher and you sure as hell never took control of his little Rottweiler, Peter Franklyn. You own this Gallagher.” 

Beau was on his feet, pointing at his adversary, all the coiled tension of the past few weeks exploding from him, “Now give me second or face another trial because that judge is about to order a mistrial. It’s second or nothing.”

The Bear had roared.

“My Lord, Mr. Stokes is prepared to enter a plea of guilty to second degree murder.” Beau was on his feet, his client standing by his side. 

“Is that correct Mr. Stokes.” the judge turned to Joe.

“Yes, your Honour. I did it. I know I’m guilty.”

“Is that acceptable to the Crown Mr. Gallagher? 

The judge was visibly angry that the case had come to this, essentially stripping the jury of its role in the process and he was not going to let Gallagher off without forcing him to go on the record. 

“Yes M’ Lord, a plea to second degree murder is acceptable.”

“Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury. You are dismissed. If it is any consolation for your service, Mr. Stokes is pleading guilty to second degree murder and will be punished accordingly. That is in this court’s opinion, the correct result. I hope you can take some satisfaction from that.”

And that thought Beau is that. Not only did he get the verdict he had been after from the beginning, the judge under the cover of thanking the jury had just expressed his own opinion. That was as close to being criticized for bad prosecutorial judgment as Gallagher had ever experienced. He was not happy.

So with that, the trial of Joe Stokes was over, convicted of second degree murder in the death of Hank Woods. It was the outcome Beau had wanted from the beginning. It was a fair outcome. It was justice done.

Joe was sentenced to ten years in jail and given credit for the five years already served. When Beau met with him in the cells after it was all over, Joe wept openly. 

“Thank you Mr. Jackson, I don’t know what to say. I can never forgive myself for killing Hank. I am guilty of that and I deserve to be punished but you fought for me when I wouldn’t. When we go to war, I want you on my side.”

Beau smiled, “We did go to war Joe and I was on your side.”

                                              POSTSCRIPT

Joe Stokes

Joe was released from the federal penitentiary in New Westminster BC in 1987. He had served ten years in total and was paroled to live with his family in Prince George. He died peacefully at his daughter’s home in 2008.

Dr. Jonathan Pringle

Dr. Pringle continued to testify in courts in North America and the UK for some years, regarded as one of the world’s leading authorities on automatism, the dissociative state and rage in human behaviour. In later years though, Dr. Pringle would find himself on the wrong side of the law charged with serious crimes related to personal conduct with female patients.  He became as ignominious as he had been famous, drummed out of psychiatry and left penniless after a number of civil suits cost him all he had.

Beau later reflected on how this man had crafted his career and image of brilliant decency and how the evil in this famous psychiatrist had been hiding in plain sight.

Penny

Beau never saw Penny again. He thought to track her down for years but knew in his heart of hearts that if Penny wanted to see him again, she would connect. She never did. When Beau returned home to Kelowna he bought a long play album of classical music for cello. He only ever played one piece though: Debussy’s Claire de Lune.

Beau ‘Bear’ Jackson

Beau left Whitehorse without fanfare knowing that the entire experience had changed him, in so many good ways. The battle itself had been epic and exhausting. As he reflected he realized that indeed he had been punching above his weight class but as a lawyer he was all the better for it. The trial had brought out his best but there were many battles to come so it wasn’t just that. 

Whitehorse, the Yukon, the people he’d met, the experiences he’d had, they all changed Beau. He’d been reminded that this life he had to live was best lived with intention, with conviction and passion. It was no place for half measures, not for someone like Beau. He was satisfied that when he was old and grey and just left with the memories of his life, he’d be okay with these ones.

Who gets to live these stories he thought; murder and mayhem, crazy people and all the north is, crossing paths with mercenaries and beautiful world class cellists. 

Beau smiled, “This is the sort of stuff people write books about.”