Witness in a Murder Trial

Back in "my day" it was called P.L.D.C. - Primary Leadership Development Course.  Now they call the training "Basic Leader Course".

The six-week long school is meant to take the lowest level army Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) like a corporal or buck sergeant and instruct them on the skills of leading a team or squad in battle.

If you see a soldier with this ribbon on his or her chest they have been through the school.

 

If it comes with a number then they have also been to the higher levels of leadership training reflective of the number.

I attended in a very unique place, a converted WWII prisoner of war camp in the desert outside of El Paso, Texas. A part of Fort Bliss it is also the home of the army's Sergeant Major Academy.

You have to pass the PLDC course if you want your career to continue past the lowest level of NCO; so you keep your head down, pay attention, study, do what your told, and apply yourself.

I was about two-thirds of the way through this course when in an after lunch formation the head instructor called my name out and instructed me to stay behind for a meeting after the rest of the students went onto their afternoon activities.

I had no idea what was going on and if you are thinking that I was expected to be informed of a death in the family or other such notice your right; I mean this is the way these notices are generally given.

The head instructor, a sergeant major in his own right, approached me, gave me the once over as I stood at attention and with a puzzled look on his face instructed me that I was wanted in the Academy Sergeant Major's office right away.

From the way he looked me over I thought maybe I was in trouble.

I arrived at the Sergeant Major's office and knocked on the door jam as the office door was already open. I'm sure my twenty-year-old face looked somewhat like a lost puppy because not only was the Sergeant Major there, but the full-bird colonel who was the commandant of the PLDC and Sergeant Major's academy along with two civilians in suites.

I was standing at attention on the outside but on the inside my mind was running at a hundred miles an hour.

"Sergeant Harris", began the Sergeant Major, "these two men are from the Texas Rangers".

Now this was late 1983, Chuck Norris' show wouldn't be on TV for another ten years so all I knew about Texas Rangers was from stories and of course the masked-man on horseback from radio and TV shows.

"Stand at-ease", the Sergeant Major allowed.

I relaxed a bit; the thought then went through my brain that this is a leadership school, can't let my military superiors know I'm a bit rattled… time for a bit of a 'take charge' attitude.

"Mr. Harris?", asked one of the suited men as he pulled back his jacket enough to show the silver-dollar sized badge pinned to his shirt.

"I am Sergeant Harris", was my retort.

"Sergeant, I'm told you are roommates with Staff Sergeant Lucas Garrett," the Ranger stated.

"It is a temporary arrangement, sir, he is restricted to base as he and his family work some things out," I said.  Garrett was a loud-mouth, quick tempered red head which, because of his course personality, had no real friends. He worked a solitary job in the crypto vault which was manned by a single individual. The vault is typically a job for a lower ranked person, but it was the only place the First Sergeant could put him and keep his personality in check.

"Are you or are you not roommates with Sergeant Garrett?", the Sergeant Major questioned with his command voice.

"Yes Sergeant Major", was my retort.  I faced the senior sergeant and it dawned on me he wanted me to provide simple answers and not volunteer any additional information.

My attention then returned to the Ranger.

"Sergeant this is a summons to appear in Supreme Court for the State of Texas in the case of Texas vs. Lucas Garrett for the crime of murder, attempted murder and a number of other charges."

He started to hand the paperwork to the Colonel, but the Sergeant Major cut him off and took the blue-covered folded packet.

At the time I was assigned to the Headquarters Battery of the 2nd Battalion, 43rd ADA (Air Defense Artillery), a Patriot Missile unit forming-up in Fort Bliss and preparing to deploy to Germany. It was one of the very first Patriot Missile Battalions and I was one of the three allotted communications NCOs.

This blue packet might as well have been a baseball bat upside the head. For all the Sergeant Major and Colonel knew I was involved somehow with a suspected murderer and knowing how slow civilian courts move my unit would have to replace me so they could deploy on time.

After the Sergeant Major gave the paperwork the once over he handed the small stack to me. My initial glance took my eyes from my name, to Garrett's name and then the dates I was to report not to the court but to the District Attorney's office in El Paso. The date was two months away.

The Colonel finally spoke-up, "Can we help you with anything else gentlemen?"

"Nope," said the Ranger who passed the papers. He didn't say 'no sir', I think it was his way of reinforcing the separation between civilian and military authority.

They put on their hats and walked out.

"Dismissed Sergeant," said the Sergeant Major.

I snapped to attention, rendered the Colonel a salute which he returned, executed an about-face and as smartly as I could left the office without it looking I was running.

Walking up the hall I unfolded the papers again. The date was after graduation so I could decided to focus on finishing the course and worry about everything else when the time came.

The rest of the leadership course went without incident. In fact, I graduated in the top ten which helped set me apart from my peers and served me well in the years to come.

After graduation I returned to my unit to find my orders to deploy with my unit were frozen. Instead of getting my soldiers and equipment ready to deploy I was instead working with a new sergeant handing over my responsibilities to him.

I was the odd-man out. The only people who weren’t going to deploy was the women who were pregnant and me, regardless of the reason it was truly a riff between myself and everyone else in the battalion.

Staff Sergeant Garrett wasn't in my room, but his messy stuff was still there. I had been instructed not to move any of his items even though I knew the police and MPs had already gone through everything in the room (including my stuff).

As the date of my mandatory appointment arrived my First Sergeant sent me to the JAG office to look over the paperwork and make sure everything was on the up-and-up. That same day my unit started loading everything on trains and trucks for shipping over the Atlantic. My fellow soldiers started to sign-out on leave so they could spend time with their families before their flights to Germany.

I put on a "Class B" uniform for my appointment with the District Attorney. Back in those days you couldn't go off post in the green work uniform unless you were in route to or from your home.

Aside from the barrack rumors I still didn't know exactly what Staff Sergeant Garrett had done. So with shinny shoes and flashy brass I headed to the city. I took a taxi from the post because I didn't know the streets of El Paso proper and didn't want to be late.

I didn't have to wait once I arrived. I was ushered into a conference room where I was quickly joined by six or seven guys wearing ties and all carrying a legal sized yellow note pad along with various papers in folders. One of them had a copy of my official military record, called a two-oh-one file (201) which surprised me a little and immediately put me into a defensive mode.

As the meeting progressed I found out why they were so happy I showed-up, I was being called as a witness for the defense, not the prosecution; and now, here I was in a room with the prosecutors.

Because my unit was deploying and because I was his barracks roommate it was I who was chosen to be a part of the defense dog-n-pony show. I was going to be expected to tell the people in the jury and the judge how stressful it was to be the guy responsible for all the top-secret crypto keys the Signal Corps used.

The group of lawyers also brought me up to speed on exactly what Staff Sergeant Garrett had done.

One night in a drunken state at home he had used a shotgun to kill his wife, then tried to use a three-wheeled ATV to make his get way only to crash and start shooting it out with the cops.

I knew he was a mean drunk. The reason he was confined to the barracks was he had gotten drunk and broke not one, but both of his wife's arms. I then understood why a Staff Sergeant would be assigned to the crypto room; he was awaiting trial for assaulting his wife and the army was waiting that out as they processed his 'other than honorable' discharge.

Now I was being drug into the fray.  I had been embarrassed in front of a Sergeant Major and Colonel, had to relinquish my squad and equipment, and wasn't going to Germany so I could help a less-than-honorable son-of-a-bitch.

The man was guilty, I was there to help the defense mitigate the punishment, to help mitigate a death penalty.

Before the court date arrived I had to move from my room in my unit's barracks to a temporary housing building. My deployment orders had moved from frozen to canceled and was bored out of my head.

I arrived at the court house in my full "Class A" uniform. The few ribbons I had back then, my expert marksmanship medal, brass and shoes shined. I was ushered to a long hallway and asked to have a seat and not to talk to anyone else. This experience isn't what it is like on TV; if you are a witness you can't be in the courtroom so you can hear what others are saying, and there was an officer in the hallway to make sure you didn't talk about the case with any other witnesses.

After an hour of so I was called in and walked to the witness stand.

I stood at attention while swearing to tell the truth. I sat at attention (yes, that's a thing) as the questions started.

I answered the questions the defense attorney asked about Staff Sergeant Garrett's job in the crypto locker. The answers lead to other questions about the meaning of "Confidential", "Secret" and "Top Secret".

When it was the prosecutor's turn his questions turned to what it was to be a sergeant in the army as opposed to being an officer.

Bear in mind I had just graduated from the Primary Leadership Development Course where the role of officers and non-commissioned officers (sergeants) was very much a part of the circular. Not only was this information still fresh in my head I was an expert.

My whole purpose of being there suddenly changed.

The judge had one of those large pads brought to the front, today I guess they would use a whiteboard. The court officer who brought it up handed me one black and one red marker and I was instructed by the judge to explain to the jury the roles of officers and sergeants and what was expected of them.

For the next thirty minutes or so I held class, schooling the members of the jury about military chain of command, what officers did and how sergeants executed their orders while taking care of the troops, making sure they are informed and properly trained, to function as a team and keep their motivation up so they can accomplish the goals set by the officers.

The judge didn't allow for any follow-up questions by either the prosecutor or defense. I have no doubt the people who made up the jury along with anyone else in the court room had a better understanding on how the military chain of command works.

When the trial was over and "Mr. Garrett" had been sentenced to life in prison I received my orders to Germany. Not to join my previous unit but to the 97th Signal Battalion. I was being assigned to the group who put in the communications for NATO Headquarters, a very prestigious assignment.

To this day I'm proud that I was able to walk a group of civilians through how the military chain-of-command works. It would be cool if this is was the only time it had happened in a court of law. I search the Internet every once in a while for any mention of the Garrett case, but I've yet to find out what happened to him or transcripts of the trial itself.