And Never See Her Again (22 page)

Haley had no more questions for Danny McCormick. As Haley walked back to sit beside his client, Robert Foran rose to ask additional questions in an effort to clear up what could be some misunderstandings in the minds of jurors.

Foran reiterated that Franks had given a consent to search his vehicle, that the tests they had discussed with the defendant had been presumptive tests, not confirming tests, and that those tests had indeed indicated the possible presence of blood-that was exactly the information they had given Franks on the night of his arrest.

"So there wasn't a lie. That's the information you had as a result of the tests that Max Courtney provided to you," Foran declared, referring to the owner of a Dallas forensic laboratory.

Turning his attention to the interview room Haley had characterized as small and daunting, Foran used his own gift of cynicism to make his point.

"Are there bars on the windows?" Foran asked.

"No, sir," McCormick replied.

"We don't have a rack in there to put them on, do we?"

"No, sir."

"We're not torturing him in there?"

"No, sir."

"We didn't deprive him of basic necessities, did we?"

"No, sir."

"And you gave him Dr Pepper. Is that some sort of truth serum?" Foran asked amid the muffled snickers of several in the court's gallery.

"Not that I know of," McCormick stated, maintaining the stoic expression he had throughout the battery of questions fired at him by the prosecutor.

In response to Foran's questions, McCormick described Franks as being indecisive, saying that he had taken Opal, then recanting more than once during the time he was being taken to and from the magistrate. The defendant had also given a number of explanations why blood would be in his car. He said Opal fell and scratched her leg, then said that she ran and fell, hitting her head on a rock, bleeding in the car when she got back in.

Foran lastly questioned McCormick about a fictitious scenario told to Franks by Special Agent Lori Keefer. She had told Franks about another abduction in Keller, Texas. The ploy had been used as a "checks and balances" because of Franks's recantations. The fake story would have given Franks an opportunity to admit to something that was absolutely untrue, an indication that he was of the mind to confess to any crime just to please the investigators.

"How did he respond to the false scenario?" Foran asked.

"He got angry about it," McCormick replied. "He said no way he did that. He said, `I knew if I told you about Opal, I would get blamed for everything else.' He never admitted to the false scenario."

Franks never so much as flinched as McCormick explained the anger he had displayed during their discussions while driving around Fort Worth in search of the body of Opal Jennings. He remained silent, staring blankly as McCormick talked about him as though he weren't in the courtroom.

His testimony complete, Danny McCormick stiffly rose from the witness chair and walked back to his seat in the courtroom gallery. It had been a long, sometimes grueling session. He had told the truth and hoped the members of the jury understood the Special Crimes Unit's investigative procedures, as well as their respect for Ricky Franks's rights.

As McCormick pushed open the wooden gate dividing the gallery from the court, Ricky Franks's half brothers stared at him with obvious despisement, their eyes following him from the witness chair to his seat beside Kathy Manning. They didn't believe the declarations of the lawman. They agreed with Leon Haley, their brother had been manipulated into making statements the investigators wanted. Their resentment grew.

The state's next witness was as sharp a contrast to the career lawman as the dark of night is to the light of day. Andrew Bouyer was a three-time convicted felon: burglary of a vehicle, burglary of a habitation, and theft from a person were among his multiple arrests, along with at least one term in the Texas Department of Corrections Institutional Division. At the time of Franks's trial, Bouyer was on probation for assault causing bodily injury.

Bouyer wasn't exactly the type of witness prosecutors relished using. His criminal record could be exploited to discredit his testimony, but Greg Miller had decided to take the chance, betting that what Bouyer had to tell the jury would far override the negative impact of his own deviant behavior.

"Let me just get this out," Miller began with a shrug, "because I don't know if it's going to be a big deal or not. You were up here yesterday, right?"

"Yes, sir."

Bouyer had been ready to testify, but the length of the prior testimonies had put his appearance off for a day.

"Did you have any lunch money (yesterday)?" Miller asked.

"Yes, sir."

Miller's head snapped toward Bouyer, surprise shone on his face. "You did?" Miller asked, his voice rising. "Who gave you the money?" Miller questioned.

"You," Bouyer replied honestly.

"Okay, all right. I was going to ask for my money back," Miller said, to chuckles from the audience. Miller had lightheartedly defused any questions that may have come during cross-examination as to whether Bouyer had been paid for his testimony.

Settled down in the witness chair, Bouyer told the jury that he first had met Ricky Franks when they were both put in the small cells on the fifth floor of the Tarrant County Jail. According to Bouyer, there were few prisoners being held in that section. He and Ricky Franks had become friends, more as a matter of convenience than common interests.

"When I first went over there to his room, I asked him for a cigarette, because I didn't have none at the time. He gave me one and I went and talked to one of the other guys who I knew in the pool. They told me, `That's Ricky Franks over there. That's the guy on the Opal thing,"' Bouyer informed the court.

"Did Ricky Franks tell you anything about Opal Jennings?" Miller asked.

'When I first knowed him," Bouyer began in broken English, "he told me that he picked her up, took her out to eat. She offered to have sex with him and he dropped her off somewhere. He said he dropped her off back at her home."

Members of the Franks family shook their heads in obvious disagreement, while Ricky Franks sat expressionless.

"Did he tell you anything else about Opal Jennings?" Miller nudged.

"No, sir. But, later on, he tried saying that they forced him to say that. But they didn't force him to say it to me whenever I first heard it, so that's why it was confusing to me," Bouyer rambled on.

The response obviously angered Rodney Franks, whose jaw tightened as the veins in his neck expanded, reflecting the disdain he felt for the state's witness.

Miller asked Bouyer if he had been trying to interrogate Franks, play some kind of psychological games with him, or trick Franks into telling him something. Bowyer emphatically denied the allegation.

"Later on, did Ricky ever express some concerns to you about the authorities finding Opal's body?" Miller continued.

"He told me if they find a body, then they're liable to link something to him," Bouyer stated.

Whispers buzzed around the courtroom. Franks was on trial for kidnapping, not murder, and although Opal had not been seen in more than a year, this was the first time during the trial that speculation of her death seemed to be confirmed.

"Did he tell you anything about the car he was in when he picked up Opal?" Miller inquired.

"Not really. He just said it was his car and told me it was black," Bouyer stated.

In only a few short minutes, Miller had made the points he had planned and was ready to pass the witness to the defense. The assistant district attorney could only hope the jury gave at least some credence to the former convict's testimony.

Edward Jones walked toward the witness, determined to discredit the former con. Jones induced Bouyer to admit he had gone by the alias "Chris Freeman" and that his term in the Texas penitentiary had been for four years. Concentrating on Bouyer's criminal record, Jones hoped the jury would see the convicted felon as an unreliable witness, not to be believed. Then, as Miller had predicted, Jones attacked Bouyer's motivation for agreeing to testify in court against his client.

Citing two pending counts of aggravated assault of a public servant against the state's witness, Jones asked, "Now for your testimony here today in front of this jury you received a deal, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," Bouyer admitted.

"They thought your testimony was so important here today that they offered you something when you were looking at four to forty years in prison; is that right?"Jones asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And, stop me if I'm wrong, your testimony was so important that they offered to reduce your cases. You could have gotten four to forty years, but they're reduced to one-year misdemeanor probation; is that right?"Jones questioned.

"I'm going two years' probation, yes," Bouyer responded truthfully.

Murmurs spread across the courtroom. Most in the audience were unaware that such agreements were regularly entered into in order to obtain needed testimony. Only time would tell if the jury would believe Bouyer.

As Jones continued his cross-examination, Bouyer admitted that while in county jail he had occasionally read the newspaper to Ricky Franks, not because Franks couldn't read, but because he often didn't understand what was written. Through Bouyer, Franks had kept up with his case. Many of the things written about Franks in the paper had upset him and, according to Bouyer, Franks was a nervous wreck at times.

Through the defense's questioning, Bouyer restated his prior testimony that in talking with Franks he appeared worried that if a body was found, he would then be charged with a more serious offense. Then, in order to counter the accusations made by Bouyer, Jones returned to the witness's criminal record and the deal he had made with prosecutors.

Miller had expected Jones to attack his witness, but he had to do something to try to redeem him. Miller asked Bouyer to explain that the two counts of aggravated assault occurred in the Tarrant County Jail. Bouyer had been extremely upset when taken to jail, venting his frustrations on the two deputies. He had bitten both, but neither had required medical attention.

Then Miller addressed an issue he thought obvious: jail inmates seldom confide in jailers or deputies; it's to other inmates they turn for conversation, for purging their souls.

As Bouyer was excused, Assistant DA Miller believed the prosecution wouldn't have the same challenges to their next witness. James Blackburn, although a former jail inmate, was not facing new charges and wouldn't benefit in any way from testifying. In fact, it had been Blackburn who had contacted them from his home in Grapevine, Texas, after seeing a news report on Channel 4 Fox News.

Blackburn had violated his misdemeanor probation and was serving a six-month county jail sentence when he met Ricky Franks. As a jail trustee (inmates who work for the sheriff's department cleaning cells, serving meals, and delivering commissary), Blackburn was forbidden to speak to other inmates. It had been Ricky Franks who chose to speak to him.

"At first he told me that him and his wife just drove past Opal Jennings's house to see how close it was to their house," Blackburn told Lisa Callahan, who had been chosen to question Blackburn. "Then later, he said that he did pick her up, but after fifteen or twenty minutes, she was gone."

"Did he say anything about seeing her before that date?" Callahan asked, backtracking a bit.

"Yes. He said he'd seen her in her neighborhood for about a year. Out in the front yard, playing in the front of the house," Blackburn explained.

Two spectators quickly glanced at one another, Blackburn's words ringing in their ears. "He'd seen her in her neighborhood for about a year." Had Franks been stalking Opal, waiting for an opportune moment in which to grab her?

"Did he say why he had gone there to begin with?" Callahan asked.

"He said to get satisfaction," Blackburn stated.

Although faces of the jurors remained expressionless, a few of them widened their eyes at the witness's statement. Members of the audience could only imagine how the convicted child sex offender planned to gain the pleasure he claimed he desired. The Franks family, continuing to believe in Ricky's innocence, could be seen shaking their heads. They didn't believe Ricky had made such a statement to the man on the stand, a man they believed was obviously lying.

Leon Haley was also unhappy with Blackburn's statements. On cross-examination he questioned Blackburn's motives for coming forward.

"You say you were sitting at home and you saw the news and you decided you would just come on down here," Haley said smartly.

"Yes, sir," Blackburn responded.

"All right, are you happy?" Haley quipped.

"I suppose, sir," Blackburn replied, unaffected. He was excused.

Audrey Sanderford watched as Blackburn walked from the courtroom. She wasn't pleased with the way the trial was going. She and Greg Miller had disagreed on a number of issues before the start of the trial, and as it proceeded, she had more questions than answers. Audrey wanted a definitive conviction, one in which there was no doubt left as to who took Opal. She feared the circumstantial evidence being presented against Ricky Franks would not be enough to convince her, or the jury, of his guilt. And Audrey wanted more-more than a conviction, Audrey wanted Opal to come home. Her attention returned to the courtroom as another state's witness was called to the stand.

Greg Miller and Andrew (Andy) Farrell had been friends for several years. The chief deputy prosecutor and the fifteen year veteran of the FBI had worked many cases together. Each respected the other. Farrell, a member of the FBI's Special Crimes Unit based in Fort Worth, had been assigned to head up the Opal Jennings investigation from the onset. Miller felt confident Farrell's testimony would help him persuade the jury of Ricky Franks's guilt.

After the noon break, Andy Farrell, an attractive middle-aged man of medium build and dark hair, took the stand. Explaining the multijurisdictional task force that had joined in an effort to find OpalJennings, Farrell told jurors that within the command post there were different tasks.