There are times when reading words in print appear harsher than the spoken word. This would be that time.“ Is this accurate? Did you say this,” I asked.
Tom started ducking and weaving a little bit and then he said,“ I don’ t know, but it sure sounds like me.”
“ Just so I understand, Ward County recused themselves because Schoppert is from there. The case is now in the attorney general’ s office for a criminal investigation of you for terrorizing, a class C felony.”
Tom Tuntland, always being the smartest one in the room, corrects me.“ No, technically, I think it’ s conspiracy to commit murder, a class A felony.”
“ Oh, Lord. Let me call Nick and see if I can see him.”
I got in to see Nick Spaeth later that afternoon. He had a copy of the transcript, and he read it out loud to me. Then he started laughing.“ All lawyers talk like that. Tell Tuntland to be more careful, and I’ ll see you at hockey on Thursday night.”
The investigation was officially closed. And so ended the criminal conspiracy to commit murder investigation against Tom Tuntland. I called Tom, and we met at Peacock Ally for beers. Tom called Ralph Vinje to join us. Ralph came down and drank beer with us. And, as it turned out, that was the first meeting of the Outlaw Bar. A renegade band of trial lawyers, mostly DUI lawyers, who tried hundreds and hundreds of cases across North Dakota. Tom Tuntland, Ralph Vinje, Tom Schoppert, Ron Reichert, Brian Nelson, Darold Asbridge, Mike Hoffman, and myself. Tom Tuntland tried so many cases, he couldn’ t keep track. comb. We would then meet on a Saturday afternoon in the Langer Room at the Peacock Alley. The Langer Room is the small dining room in the back of the restaurant. At that time, there was a blackboard on the back wall.
We would sit at the dining table and listen to Tom. He would be at the blackboard with a big piece of chalk in his hand, scribbling on the blackboard, and he would try to explain the science to a room full of dumbasses. That was not an easy task, but Tom was a good teacher and some of the science sank in. We were looking for two things: 1.) To find a flaw in the system to create a reasonable doubt; and 2.) To be able to communicate that reasonable doubt to the jury.
Surprisingly, or not surprisingly, we became quite successful at winning these jury trials. These DUI trials were tried in every county in North Dakota, and we were on the road a lot. To ease the burden of traveling from Wahpeton to Williston or from Bismarck to Bowbells, Tom would make us mixed tapes or, actually, mixed CDs. He loved music. I don’ t mean he liked music. He LOVED music.
He did not just listen to music; he absorbed it like he did the science at the state toxicology lab. And he wanted us to love his music. Tom graduated from Garrison High School in 1963. He must have been the choreographer, conductor, and director of all music programs at Garrison High School, because he recorded tapes for almost every song that was ever played in 1963.
These were all good lawyers, some of them great lawyers. Bold, bright, creative, and fearless. But Tom Tuntland was the smartest of them all.
Once a year, Tom and I would go to the state toxicology lab and take the deposition of the state toxicologist. First Dr. Rao, and then later, Aaron Rash. We went there to learn more about the scientific underpinnings of their alcohol testing equipment. The Intoxilyzer, which tested for breath-alcohol, and the Gas Chromograph Mass Spectrometer, which actually tested the blood for the presence of alcohol. My role was to ask the questions and generally suck up to the toxicologist. Tom’ s role was to analyze the science. Truthfully, he understood the science better than the toxicologist.
A couple of weeks later, we would get the deposition transcripts. Tom would go through them with a fine-toothed
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