Dr. Sargent estimated that there were probably about two hundred graves in the one site they found. According to Lovely’s history, there were other burial sites scattered around the island.
After two hours on the stand, Dr. Sargent had said enough. Judge Burch needed some coffee.
Diane had chatted several times by phone with Loyd Landry, Herschel’s son. She had visited them months earlier in New Bern, North Carolina. She had left the visit certain that Herschel, at ninety-three, had lost too much of his memory to be involved in litigation. She had also emailed Loyd a number of times, just to keep him apprised of the case. He knew the trial date, and the previous Sunday he had called with the startling news that his father wanted to return to Camino Island.
According to Loyd, after meeting Diane at his nursing home, Herschel began quizzing his son about her and her visit. He remembered Lovely and Dark Isle, and the more they talked the more he recalled. On the good days. On the bad days, he didn’t know where he was.
On Monday morning, an hour before the trial started, Loyd texted Diane that they were in the car, their road trip had begun, the old guy was thrilled to be out of the nursing home, and they would get there as soon as they could. They were about ten hours away but several pit stops were likely.
And pray for a good day.
At three-thirty Tuesday afternoon, Judge Burch tapped his gavel and said court was in session. Mr. Mahon, please call your next witness. The main door opened, and Herschel came rolling down the aisle with Loyd pushing his wheelchair. For some reason he held a cane across his lap. When they approached the witness stand, Steven explained to the court that Mr. Landry could not sit anywhere but in his wheelchair and that he would need a portable mike. Loyd would be allowed to hold it and sit next to him. Without much of a struggle, the court reporter administered the oath and the direct examination began.
Herschel looked around the courtroom and couldn’t see much. However, when his eyes met Lovely’s, he smiled and nodded and mumbled something. Steven asked him his name, age, address, and a few other basics, and he gave the right answers in a slow, soft, hoarse voice, but with the mike at his lips every word was clear enough.
“Many years ago, did you know Lovely Jackson, the lady sitting over there?”
Another smile. “Yes I did. I liked her. She liked me.”
Lovely kept smiling at him. She didn’t care what he said about their relationship sixty years ago. All she wanted was the truth.
“And you were a fisherman on Camino Island and had a boat?”
Monty Martin stood and said, “Your Honor, I realize these are unusual circumstances, but how much can Mr. Mahon be allowed to lead the witness?”
“I understand, Mr. Martin. You have a valid objection, but I’m going to allow this gentleman to tell his story. Please.”
“You owned a boat near the canneries in Santa Rosa, right?”
“That’s right. I was a fisherman.”
“Did you ever take Lovely Jackson over to Dark Isle to visit the cemetery?”
It took a while for the question to register, but then he began nodding. “Yes, that’s right. We went over there all the time.”
“And what did you do over there?”
“Cut the grass, pulled weeds around the graves. Her people.”
“Did you go alone?”
The question vexed him and he didn’t answer.
“Did a boy named Carp go with you?”
“Oh yes, Carp. Good boy.”
“Where is Carp now?”
“Don’t know.”
“Do you remember his last name?”
“No,” he mumbled.
“How old were you when you took Lovely to her island?”
“Thirty, I guess.”
“And how long did this go on?”
“Oh, a long time. Many years. I liked her. She liked me. We liked to go over there together, alone.”
The rebuttal began Wednesday morning when the Attorney General himself was sworn in as a witness. His presence was certainly not necessary but spoke volumes to the influence Tidal Breeze had in the state, or at least over the AG. The company, the Larney family, and its many employees, investors, and affiliated businesses were heavy contributors to his campaigns.
The gist of his brief testimony was that in Florida the law was clear, and had been on the books for over sixty years now. Because of nature and occasionally because of man-made projects, shorelines, reefs, even streams and tributaries change with time. Small islands disappear. Others are created. Still others merge and split. There were currently about eight hundred deserted islands in the waters off the coasts of Florida, and all of them were deemed, by law, to be property of the state.
In his learned opinion, Dark Isle belonged to the state of Florida.
When offered the chance to cross-examine such an important person, Steven toyed with the idea of exploring his closeness to Tidal Breeze. They could discuss the company’s behind-the-scenes efforts to secure the island before the Court ruled. While such questioning would be a lot of fun, it would be a sideshow, not productive, so Steven waved off the opportunity as if the AG didn’t matter at all.
