"The [protective-order violation] statute was put in place to protect battered women," defense attorney Wynne says, "not to go after someone already acquitted of capital murder." At no time did Hicks' ex-wife ever make any complaint about him violating the order.
Still, a guilty verdict on the federal charges came quickly, helped by the testimony of Hicks' son, who said his father carried a gun on the hunting trips during the time the order was in effect. "It was a hard thing for Casey to do," George Varner says, "but he said his daddy had insisted that he tell the truth when he took the stand. That tells me all I need to know about the character and honesty of Richard Hicks."
Mark Graham
Glenn Hicks, father of Richard Hicks, stands in the field where police say his son shot and killed a cop.
Mark Graham
Lea Head, a regular at the Whitewright club where Richard Hicks hung out, says Hicks is "one of the most honest people you'll ever meet."
The two-day sentencing hearing that followed, however, had nothing to do with protective-order matters. Instead, U.S. Attorneys Arnold Spencer and Jaime Pena did exactly what Hicks' lawyers had anticipated. Many of the same faces that had appeared on the witness stand during the state trial were back. Kevin Lamance retold his version of the tragic event. And Dr. Norton again argued that Jim Lamance's death had resulted from a shot fired by his brother. Meanwhile, Dr. Lynn Salzberger, who had conducted the criticized autopsy at the Institute of Forensic Sciences in Dallas, testified that she had seen no gunpowder residue on the victim and remained firmly convinced he had been shot with a high-powered rifle from long range.
The defense's attempt to have the victim's body exhumed to settle the issue had earlier been denied.
Judge Paul Brown ruled that the evidence presented was compelling enough for him to cross-reference his sentence. Unlike the state trial jury, he had been convinced that it was Hicks who killed the Whitewright officer.
"This," U.S. Attorney Pena says, "was a righteous prosecution, and in the end justice was served." He points out that there was no double jeopardy involved since the earlier Hicks trial had not involved the protective-order violation.
Allowed to make a statement before being sentenced, Hicks stood before the judge and said, "If I had killed Mr. Lamance, I would have pled guilty to it. I would not have put my family or his through this." With that, his voice broke and he began to sob.
Outside, dozens of Hicks' supporters milled about, many of them in tears. Nearby, attorney Mike Wynne talked to a media gathering. He'd been in practice for 20 years, he said, and had never before represented a client who had such unwavering support from friends and family. He talked of those who had taken off work to be in the courtroom day after day through the two trials, of the letters they had written the judge and state politicians on behalf of Hicks, of the support they'd provided his family during his incarceration.
"We should all have friends like that," Wynne said.
While Richard Hicks sat in the Seagoville federal prison, awaiting assignment to whatever facility he will soon call home and the appeal his lawyers are preparing, he was far from forgotten at the Dusty Saddle, where his fate is still part of the nightly conversation. Since he is in transition, authorities would not permit him a visit or phone conversation with the
Dallas Observer.
Meanwhile, the lives of others who were involved in the case have taken strange twists.
Kevin Lamance, hired to fill his deceased brother's position at the Whitewright Police Department, stayed only a year before taking a better-paying position on the force in nearby Bells. He left there to join the Tom Bean Police Department. He now works for a private security firm. (The Observer's attempts to contact Lamance were unsuccessful.)
Mike McClellan, who found the incriminating 30-30 shells nearly three years ago, resigned from the Fannin County Sheriff's Department in March and is now living in Oregon with Lynn Lamance, the slain officer's widow.
Letters to the editor of local papers mirror the division that remains in the community. Some say justice was finally accomplished for Jim Lamance; others decry Hicks' imprisonment as "stinking to high heaven" and reminiscent of law enforcement black eyes "like Ruby Ridge and Waco."
Rampant rumors continue. On Mother's Day, May 12, 2002, a young Bonham woman named Jennifer Harris disappeared, her body found a week later floating in the Red River. Recently, word that Fannin County Attorney Myles Porter was soon to be arrested and charged with her murder became so widespread that he was forced to publicly discount them. "It's shocking...ridiculous...malicious gossip," he told the Sherman Democrat.
The story, he suggested, had been started and spread by people still upset over his prosecution of Richard Hicks.