Read The Executioner's Song Online
Authors: Norman Mailer
NIELSEN You know that story doesn't convince me, okay? I can't understand why those people got shot. Why did you shoot them, Gary? That's what I'm wondering.
GILMORE I didn't shoot anybody.
NIELSEN I think you did, Gary. That's the only thing I can't understand.
GILMORE Listen, last night I was with that girl all night.
NIELSEN What girl?
GILMORE April Baker.
NIELSEN April Baker? Where's she from, how can I get in touch with her?
GILMORE She lives in Pleasant Grove. She was with me every minute. Her mother will tell you that I went over there and picked her up pretty early in my truck. See, I was going with her big sister, you know, who used to live out in Spanish Fork and we busted up, I went over to show them my truck and April said, "Take me down here to get something for my brother," and I said, "Do you want to drive around and drink some beer?" and she said, "Yeah." She don't get along with her mother. She said, "Okay," so we drove around and drank some beer, smoked some weed, and I said, "Let's get a motel. I have to work in the morning." She said, "Go out here to American Fork." Well, I couldn't find one, so I ended up coming back to . . .
NIELSEN Which place?
GILMORE Holiday.
NIELSEN At the Holiday? Did you sign in on your own name?
GILMORE Yeah, we stayed there until about seven. I took her home.
NIELSEN Seven this morning?
GILMORE Yeah, then I went to work.
NIELSEN What time did you pick her up?
GILMORE Seven. Five. Seven, I don't know. I don't have a watch. I don't like to wear watches.
NIELSEN Was she with you when you stopped at the service station out there?
GILMORE I didn't stop at any service station.
NIELSEN Gary, I really think you did.
GILMORE I didn't.
NIELSEN You saw that .22 Automatic out there on the way in?
GILMORE I seen a gun laying out there.
NIELSEN Have you ever seen it before?
GILMORE No.
NIELSEN Well, if it's registered to you, you're sunk.
GILMORE It ain't.
NIELSEN Okay. I don't know, Gary. I can't . . .
GILMORE Hey, that's what happened. I know you don't believe it.
NIELSEN I really don't, Gary. I really don't, I really don't. I think you did 'er, and I can't understand why you ended up shooting the people. That's what I can't understand.
GILMORE Listen . . .
NIELSEN Gary, that's really the way I feel.
GILMORE Do you think I'd shoot a person with that girl?
NIELSEN I don't know. If you left her in the car down at the corner or she didn't know, that's another matter.
GILMORE You can talk to her . . .
NIELSEN How do we get ahold of her? . . .
GILMORE She lives with her mother . . .
NIELSEN Can you tell me how to get there? . . .
GILMORE I can give you a phone number. She might be kind of hot that I had her daughter out all night . . .
NIELSON April Baker
GILMORE She was with me all the time.
NIELSEN How old is she?
GILMORE Eighteen.
NIELSON She's of age then. I don't know, it just looks bad, Gary. Can you describe the robber?
GILMORE He had long hair, dressed, you know, in Levi's, a brighter jacket, you know, a Levi's jacket.
NIELSEN I'll check that, I'll check it, but I don't believe that. I think as it stands, especially with your past record, I think they have a good case of robbery against you. I still can't understand why they were killed, I can't understand that.
GILMORE Can't understand what?
NIELSEN Why they were killed. I can't understand that. Gary, why were they killed?
GILMORE Who?
NIELSEN The guy in the motel and the guy out there . . .
GILMORE I didn't kill anybody.
NIELSEN I don't know, I think so.
GILMORE Like I told you, I knew just where I was at every minute.
NIELSEN What if I go check with these people and they say, "He's feeding you B.S."?
GILMORE They won't.
NIELSEN You sure? Everybody will say that?
GILMORE They might tell you a little different times or whatever.
NIELSEN What will April say if I ask her about 10:30 last night . . .
GILMORE I don't know, she's a little spacey. When she was young some guys took her out and gave her some acid without her knowing it and raped her. I don't know what she'll tell you. April was with me every minute last night . . . I got lonely for Nicole, so I just went by and got her little sister. April wanted a ride. We got to necking and laughing and giggling, and I kept her all night. Well, look, that's it.
NIELSEN I'll check it, I'll check her.
GILMORE I ain't going to tell you nothing else without a lawyer. That's all, can I eat?
NIELSEN It's getting close to breakfast time, you hungry? I'll tell them.
GILMORE My hand still hurts too . . .
NIELSEN Without an attorney and off the record, you wouldn't answer what I asked you a while ago?
GILMORE What was that?
NIELSEN About why they were killed when you left.
GILMORE I don't know why they were killed. I didn't kill them.
NIELSEN I hope that's true because that just worries me, that part. I can't understand it. I can understand the other. I can understand the stick-up thing.
GILMORE I didn't stick nobody up, and I didn't kill nobody.
NIELSEN Is it all right if I come back this afternoon to talk to you after I check on some of this?
GILMORE I ain't killed nobody, and I ain't robbed anybody.
NIELSEN Gary, I hope not but I have a hard time believing otherwise. At this point I have a hard time believing otherwise . . .
GILMORE I'm hungry, and I'm in pain.
By the time Wootton got home on Wednesday morning, he had about decided to charge Gilmore with First-Degree Murder on the motel case. While the only print on the gun was too smudged to check out, they had the paraffin test and a witness, Peter Arroyo. He had seen Gilmore in the motel with the gun and the cash box. It looked promising to Wootton.
Around three-thirty that morning, Val Conlin received a phone call. A voice said, "This is the police. We have impounded a car of yours."
Val was so drowsy, he said, "Well, okay, fine."
"We want to let you know we have the car. There's been a homicide." "That's fine," said Val and hung up and his wife said, "What was that all about?" He said, "They've impounded a car. There's been a homicide. I don't know why, I don't know why, gee, you know." He went back to sleep. In the morning he'd forgotten about it.
When he came into the office next morning, Marie McGrath was there waiting to tell him.
"You got to be kidding," said Val "Did he kill that guy the other night?"
Marie said, "What do you mean, the other night? Last night."
"Last night?" said Val. He was bringing up the rear in every heat.
"Yes," said Marie, "they caught him on the one he killed last night." That was when Val heard about the motel murder. The call at 3:30 A.M. came back to him.
A little later, the police were out examining the Mustang. Started taking out clothing and looking for blood. Val was asked, "Did he ever trade any guns with you?"
"Not to me," said Val, "I don't like guns. I don't like guns." "Well," said the cop, "he stole a bunch of guns. We're looking for them." "Hey," said Val, "not me."
The police were there an hour. After they left, Rusty took some trash out to the back. She came in saying, "Look what I got."
The wind had been blowing everything around. She had discovered a sack stuffed under an old soft-drink chest. Opening it, she found several pistols wrapped in newspaper.
When Val saw them, he shouted, "Hold it, wait a minute. DON'T TOUCH THAT STUFF! Get on the phone. Call a detective!"
When the police came out, they again asked whether Gilmore offered any guns. Val said, "No. If he had, I would have shit. I don't like guns."
At 9 A.M., Gary was on the phone. "Where are you?" Brenda asked. He kind of snickered. "It's all right," he said, "I'm in custody. I can't get to you."
She said, "Oooh, God, thank goodness." Her voice sounded awful in her ear. She was as strung out from lack of sleep as she'd ever been. "Hey, really," Brenda said, "you okay?"
"Why," asked Gary, "didn't you come?"
"I was scared," said Brenda.
"What about John?" Gary asked.
"They wouldn't let him come, Gary."
"You betrayed me," he said.
"I didn't want to see you smeared all over Highway 89. I didn't want to see policemen I knew getting sent out and their wives left as widows. They're my neighbors." She added, "You're alive, aren't you?"
"It would have been a lot simpler if they'd wasted me out there."
"I really didn't want you to get blown away like some common criminal," she said. "To me, you're very uncommon. You're crooked, but you're not common."
"You could have taken me," he said, "to the state line."
"Gary, that's good dreaming, but it isn't real."
"I'd have done it for you," he said.
"I believe that," she said, and added, "Gary, I love you very much, but I couldn't've done that for you."
"You betrayed me."
"I didn't know any other way to round you up," Brenda said. "I love you."
There was a long pause, and then he said, "Well, I need some clothes."
"Why did they take yours?" she asked.
"Evidence."
"I'll bring some."
"I gotta have them by ten o'clock."
"I'll be there," she said.
"Okay, coz," he said, and hung up.
She went down to the Provo City Center where they had the new modern jail with the dark brown stone. It looked a lot like the modern Orem City Center with the dark brown stone that also had a jail. She took some of John's old work clothes. Since she couldn't get them back, no reason to give away his best things.
When she arrived, they had him in some cell downstairs. Told her he hadn't been arraigned yet, so she couldn't see him.
"Goddamn," said Brenda, "the man can't go into court naked." "We'll take it to him," they said.
Now, while Brenda was still in the lobby, a TV crew arrived, and the hall became jammed with cables and mini-cameras, and people she'd never seen before in her life. She didn't have any makeup on, her hair was in a dumb ponytail, she had a pair of shorts on, and must have looked as overweight as she felt. She just wasn't about to get on camera.
Gary was being brought up the stairs, however, so she stepped behind a TV rig and a big cameraman, and watched as he went down the hall. She could see he was looking for her. To herself, she said, "I guess I really hate facing him." She thought she probably shouldn't feel ashamed, but she did.
Mike Esplin, the court-appointed defense attorney, looked a little bit like a rancher. In fact, he came from a ranching family. He was of reasonable height, pleasantly built, and wore a small brush mustache. His eyes were a watery blue-gray as if he had been staring into harsh sunlight for too long. He was, however, dapper in his dress, real dapper: a gray shirt, red tie, a gray plaid suit with a red stripe.
The first he heard of Gary Gilmore was when the Clerk in the City Court of Provo called that morning to say the Judge had asked Esplin to come over, if he could, for the arraignment.
It was no problem. There was hardly a lawyer in Provo who didn't have offices within a block or two of the Court. But things were moving so quickly, Mike Esplin didn't have an opportunity to discuss anything with his new client. In fact, he only met him in the courtroom.
Of course, there was nothing unusual about that. A Court-appointed lawyer didn't even have to be there for the arraignment. They had called him in this early only because it was a First-Degree Murder case. Esplin found himself standing with Gilmore in front of the Court one minute after he had introduced himself.