Chapter 20
McCoy took the steps leading up to the front
doors of the court building two at a time. When he reached the top, he glanced
at his watch. Not quite
Once inside the building, he took the
elevator up and headed for the courtroom marked “Part 36”. After checking
inside to make sure it was empty, he found a bench across the hallway and sat
down to wait.
He had been there for no more than ten
minutes when he caught sight of Morgan coming toward him down the long hallway.
He stood up as she approached and smiled.
“Good morning. How are you this morning?”
Morgan returned the smile. “I’m fine. And
you?”
“Good,” he answered enthusiastically.
With a questioning look, she asked, “What are
you doing here?”
“Waiting for you. I’ve been trying to catch
up with you all week but I always seem to be two minutes too late. Want to go
with me to get a cup of coffee?”
“Sure,” she agreed, still seeming puzzled.
As they walked down the hallway, McCoy said,
“I hear you’re putting your client on this morning. And summations are
tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’ll be glad when it’s over. How about
you? How are things going in Part forty-four?”
“Pretty good. We should finish up in another
week or so.” He stopped at a machine beside the elevator and fished some change
from his pocket.
“You’re going to drink this stuff?” she
asked, wrinkling her nose. “It doesn’t even smell like coffee. I saw a vendor
out front as I came in. I’m sure his is fresher.”
“This is fine. I had a cup on the way here,
so I don’t need more than a few sips.” After he had taken the styrofoam cup
from the slot, he turned back the way they had come. “Abbie’s been keeping me
posted on the trial. Sounds like you’ve been giving her a run for her money.”
“Oh,” Morgan nodded knowingly, “now I
understand why you’re here. She told you what happened yesterday afternoon, and
I’m due a lecture on courtroom decorum.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to lecture
you. But I do think it’s a little ironic that you were so upset when you
thought Abbie was using personal knowledge of you to her advantage, and then
you turned around and did the same.”
“What I did is totally different. I used
knowledge that I gathered from observing Abbie in the courtroom. I didn’t use
something she confided in me over pizza at her place. I needed to show the jury
the kind of mentality my client was faced with every day, and I couldn’t very
well attack my own witness to get him to show his true colors. I had to use
Abbie to get what I wanted.”
“Kind of underhanded, don’t you think?”
“You can’t tell me you’ve never manipulated
the opposition into doing something that helped your side, Jack. In an
affirmative defense like this, sometimes it’s necessary to use someone else to
make your point for you.” Glancing up at him she added, “But I guess that isn’t
something you would understand, being as you’ve always sat at the other table.”
Motioning for her to sit down with him on the
bench he had previously occupied, he assured her, “Not only can I understand, I
can also sympathize. I just don’t want to see this thing with you and Abbie get
out of hand.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re even,” Morgan
said with a slight smile. “Anyway, the trial will be over tomorrow and we can
put all of this behind us.”
“That’s assuming the jury renders its verdict
by tomorrow,” he reminded her.
“They will. My guess is, they’ll acquit and
be out of here and home in time for dinner.”
“You sound pretty sure. Abbie seems to think
that it’s a draw at best, with a slight edge going to the People.”
“Abbie hasn’t heard what my client is going
to say; I have. Trust me, they’re going to acquit.”
McCoy shook his head and grinned. “If you say
so.” He took a sip of coffee then asked casually, “Since you’re so sure of
winning, why don’t you let me buy you dinner tomorrow night to celebrate?
There’s a new seafood restaurant I’d like to try. You could meet me at my
office after court.”
Morgan studied him thoughtfully for a moment
before saying, “I could probably do that. Assuming I’m right about the jury, of
course.”
He smiled brightly. “Of course.”
She looked at her watch and then at McCoy.
“The bus from Riker’s should be arriving about now. I need to meet with my
client and make sure she’s prepared to testify. If I don’t see you between now
and then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
He stood up with her and said, “If something
comes up, leave a message at my office.”
Morgan nodded. “Have a good day, Jack.”
***Sara
Grayson hooked her hair behind one ear with a trembling hand. The pale pink
suit she was wearing made her look deceptively young, but the fine lines around
her eyes betrayed the sleepless nights she had spent at Riker’s Island. She
clasped her hands together in her lap as Morgan came toward her.
Taking a position beside the witness stand,
Morgan’s voice was full of sympathy. “Sara, I know this is difficult for you,
so feel free to take your time.” She touched her client’s shoulder reassuringly
and added, “No one is going to rush you. And if you need a break, let us know.”
Grayson nodded jerkily.
“Why don’t you start by telling us how long
you were with your husband and what your life was like when you first got
married?”
Looking down at her hands, Grayson answered
softly, “We were married for almost twenty-one years and it was wonderful the
first few months. Mitchell was everything I had dreamed of. He was sweet and
thoughtful. We were very happy. But then things changed.”
“How did they change?”
“Not quite a year after we were married, he
was laid off and had trouble finding work. I offered to help, to find a job of
my own, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said it was his responsibility to
provide for me. Mitchell had a lot of pride. But money was short and he became
more and more frustrated. One day when I again suggested that I should find a
job, he turned around and slapped me. I was shocked. But afterwards, he was so
sorry, I told myself that it was only because of our financial situation and
everything would be all right once he was working again.”
“And was it?”
“When he first found another job, things were
calm again. But every once in a while, he would hit me or push me when we had
an argument. He also started putting me down when we were around other people.
I never seemed to be able to make him happy.”
“Did you ever consider leaving him?”
She nodded. “I thought about it, but I really
loved Mitchell, and I knew deep down he loved me. I didn’t want to give up. I
wanted to make our marriage work. And I knew some things about his childhood,
how he had grown up in an abusive household, so I told myself I needed to be
more understanding. Then I became pregnant, and for a while he was like the
person I had married. He was very kind and took care of me when I didn’t feel
well. I thought things had changed, that maybe a child was what we had needed
all along to bring us closer together.”
“Did it last?”
“No,” she answered sadly. “Not long after
Alissa was born, he began hitting me again. Whenever he got angry about
anything, he would find a way to blame me or start a fight. His temper got
worse and worse and so did the beatings. But when I became pregnant a second
time, he stopped hitting me again. After Alex was born Mitchell was so happy to
have a son, I was sure he had changed for good. But he soon fell back into his
old habits. I thought more and more about leaving him, but by then, I didn’t
think I could take care of two children on my own, so I just tried to stick it
out and not make him angry. Then one day he came home very excited. A man had
been telling him about the church he was attending, and Mitchell wanted to
start going. We had never been church-goers, but I was willing to try anything
that might help our situation.”
“Is that when you began attending the
Fellowship of the Harvest services?”
“Yes, and I started to see a change in
Mitchell. He would try to hold onto his temper instead of lashing out, and he
took more of an interest in the children. I thought we had finally found the
answer to our problems. But then he started going to the private meetings the
Fellowship held for the male members who had been associated with them for a
while. After he attended them for a few weeks, I began to see another change.
He became more controlling, like a dictator, telling us what to do and when to
do it. He also started punishing us when we didn’t do as he said. He took it
pretty easy on the children at first because they were fairly young, but he didn’t
take it easy on me. Whenever I did something he didn’t like, he would hit me,
but not in the angry way that he had before. He was very calm and controlled
about the way he punished me and no longer apologized afterwards for what he
had done. Instead, he’d explain that it was for my own good, and that he did it
because he loved me. It was frightening, because he really seemed to believe
what he was saying.”
“Did you ever tell anyone what Mitchell was
doing to you?”
“Not for a long time. I was embarrassed but I
didn’t want to do anything to embarrass him.” She shrugged, almost
apologetically. “I loved him, and I needed him. Sometime after we joined the
Fellowship though, when I saw that he no longer felt what he was doing was
wrong, I finally spoke to Reverend Fillmore about it.”
“What was his reaction?”
“He suggested that I should try harder not to
displease my husband. He also pointed out that as my head, Mitchell had the
final say in anything that concerned me. I quietly began asking around and
almost all of the other wives within the group were going through the same
thing. Some of them resented it, but were too afraid to say anything. Others
accepted it and seemed to think there was nothing wrong with what their
husbands were doing. I knew then that I was in trouble. Mitchell had finally
found others who saw nothing wrong with abusing their wives. They actually
condoned his behavior, giving it a legitimate purpose by saying it was for the
wife’s own good. I talked with Mitchell about not attending the Fellowship
services anymore, but that only got me another beating. He told me it was where
we belonged and he would never stop going. A few days later, I decided to leave
him. I came home for lunch, packed a few things, and planned to pick the children
up from school and go to my brother’s in Vermont. Somehow, Mitchell figured it
out and came for me at work. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I got into the
car with him. When we got home he broke my arm and said that if I tried to
leave again, he and others from the Fellowship would track me down. He also
said that if anything ever happened to him, he had signed papers giving custody
of our children to one of the other members of the Fellowship.” Grayson paused,
her eyes pleading. “Nothing in my life is more important to me than my
children. I felt like I was trapped.”
Morgan nodded. “That’s understandable. But
couldn’t you have told someone else about your problems? Why didn’t you try to
get help?”
“I didn’t think anyone would believe me,”
Grayson responded quietly, focusing on her hands once more. “To everyone else,
Mitchell seemed like such a nice person. And I had waited so long, I didn’t
know what people would say. I was sure anyone I told would think I was making
it up. I also didn’t want to risk losing my children. I knew Mitchell meant
what he said.”
“What about Sandy Hamilton’s testimony? How
did she know you were being abused?”
Grayson shook her head. “She came to her own
conclusions from what she saw. I never told Sandy anything.”
“Sara, on the average, how many times a week
did Mitchell physically punish you?”
Looking down again, she answered, “Two or
three times, usually. More if we had a really bad week.”
“And what did the punishment consist of?”
She kept her eyes averted. “He would slap me
mostly. Sometimes he would hit me in the stomach or on my back with his fists
or his belt. If I did something really wrong, he would hit me more times and
harder.”
Morgan paused for a moment, then said quietly,
“After putting up with him for so long, please explain to us the circumstances
that led up to the point where you finally took action against your husband.”
Closing her eyes briefly, Grayson took
several quick, deep breaths before answering shakily, “It all started after
services one Sunday. There is a man who spoke with my husband about our
daughter, Alissa. He said he was interested in marrying her as soon as she
finishes high school. He asked if Mitchell would arrange the marriage and
Mitchell agreed to do so.”
“Was this a common practice with the
Fellowship?”
“Yes, it was. Rather than seek a career,
women were encouraged to marry within the group and many of them were spoken
for when they were only teenagers. I felt a woman should choose her own life,
and getting married so young took away a lot of options. I was also afraid that
Alissa would end up being married to someone who would treat her as my husband
and most other members of the Fellowship treated their wives. I told Mitchell
how I felt. I knew he would punish me for questioning him but I had to do
something to protect my daughter.”
“What happened?”
“He became very angry. He said it wasn’t my
place to question his decisions and that he alone knew what was best for his
child. Then he beat me so badly I missed two days of work recovering. On one of
those days, after my children came home from school, my son told me he wanted
to kill his father to keep him from hurting me anymore.” Grayson stopped,
struggling unsuccessfully to keep from crying.
“It’s all right, Sara,” Morgan assured her.
“Take your time.”
“I was so afraid for my children,” Grayson
finally responded, wiping her eyes with a tissue she had pulled from her
pocket. “I knew if Alex stood up to his father, Mitchell would be furious. I
didn’t know what would happen to my son. I couldn’t stand by and watch him
destroy our children. I had to take action. But we couldn’t just leave him. He
would have found us wherever we went and I was afraid he would kill me when he
did. I had to do something to make sure my children would be safe for good. I
wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I knew I had to confront him and find a
way to keep him from hurting us any more.”
“What did you do?”
“First I saw to it that my children would be
cared for if something were to happen to me. I didn’t know if the arrangements
Mitchell had made about the custody of our children were legally binding or
not, and I couldn’t ask anyone because I was afraid of my husband finding out.
So I spoke with an attorney, Mr. Holt, and asked him to draw up a guardianship
agreement giving temporary custody to Sandy Hamilton in the event of Mitchell’s
or my death. Then I waited for an opportunity. Mitchell was strong, so I knew
if it came to a physical confrontation, I wouldn’t be able to overpower him.
When he said he was going to take a sleeping pill that Sunday night, I decided
that would be my one and only chance. I got the children out of the house and
safely to Sandy’s, then I borrowed her husband’s truck and went back to the
house we were renting to load the rest of our belongings. Mitchell was still
asleep when I finished.”
As Grayson again fought for control of her
emotions, Morgan moved closer to rest her hand on the other woman’s shoulder.
“Tell us what happened, Sara.”
Through her tears, Grayson answered, “I
watched him sleep for a while, trying to figure out what I should do. I could
have lived with the way he treated me, but I couldn’t live with what was
happening to my children. I could only think of one thing to do.” She paused to
wipe her eyes again. The courtroom was completely silent when she continued. “I
got a knife from the kitchen drawer. Mitchell was sleeping on his stomach, so I
stood beside the bed, raised the knife over my head, and brought it down with
as much force as I could. Then I ran out of the house, got into the truck, and
drove away. I didn’t even know if I had killed him or not until a few days
later when he hadn’t come after me.”
Morgan patted her shoulder consolingly as
Grayson cried. “It’s all right, Sara. I only want to ask you about one more
thing.”
Grayson nodded and did her best to stop
crying.
“If what you did was in defense of yourself
and your children, why didn’t you go to the police afterwards?”
“I didn’t try to run away or hide. There was
no point. I knew that if Mitchell was alive, he would find me. But I thought
that if I had only hurt him, it would at least make him understand that I
couldn’t take what he was doing anymore, and he might agree to leave us alone.
When he didn’t come for me during the next couple of days, I was pretty sure he
was dead. Then I knew the police would eventually find me and that once they
did, I would go to prison for what I had done and wouldn’t be with my children
for a long time. I just wanted to be with them for as long as possible before
that happened.”
As Grayson dissolved into tears, Morgan said,
“Thank you, Sara. We all understand how difficult this was for you to talk
about.” Moving to stand in front of the bench, she added, “Your Honor, I
respectfully request a brief recess so that my client may regain her composer
before the prosecution begins their questioning.”
Yee nodded. “We will take a short recess.
Court will reconvene in thirty minutes.”
***Although
Grayson appeared calmer than when she had left the stand, she was clearly
apprehensive as Carmichael approached her.
“Mrs. Grayson, would you please tell us again
how long you were married to Mitchell?”
“Almost twenty-one years.”
“And you said he began hitting you less than
a year into the marriage. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Carmichael shook her head in disbelief. “He
abused you for nearly twenty years, and in all that time, you only told one
person about it?”
With a quick nod, Grayson said, “Yes.”
“You didn’t tell a friend or a family
member?”
“No,” Grayson answered shakily.
“What about the police? Did you ever call
them or file a complaint against your husband with them?”
“No.”
“Did you ever take your children and go to
one of the shelters for battered women to seek help from someone there?”
Grayson’s voice became shakier as she
answered simply, “No.”
“You spoke with an attorney to have a
guardianship agreement drawn up. Did you enlist his help in obtaining a
restraining order against your husband?”
“No.”
“In other words, you didn’t exhaust every
recourse before taking matters into your own hands. In fact, you didn’t take
any other action than up and stabbing your husband to death one night while he
slept, totally defenseless and unaware, right?”
“Objection,” Morgan’s annoyed voice said from
behind her as Grayson fought back tears once again. “Prosecution is badgering
the witness.”
“Overruled,” Yee stated.
Not waiting for Grayson to give an answer to
her previous question, Carmichael continued, “When you were first arrested and
interrogated, why didn’t you tell the police about the abuse?”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. I thought
if I just admitted what I did and took my punishment that would be enough. I
didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why not? If what you said was true and you
were trying to protect your children, why wouldn’t you want anyone to know?
Didn’t you feel your actions were justified?”
Drying her eyes and gathering a bit of
resolve, she answered more strongly, “Yes, I thought what I did was justified,
but I didn’t think there was any chance of anyone else seeing it that way. And
for the sake of my children, I didn’t want to drag their father’s name through
the mud. They’ve been through enough. I didn’t want them to have to face people
asking them questions and making unkind remarks. Despite what he did, Mitchell
was their father.”
“Then why did you change your mind later? Why
did you change your story as to your reason for killing your husband?”
Grayson glanced at her attorney. “Ms. Morgan
came to talk with me. She said she understood my actions and that other people
would too. She told me I might not have to go to prison, that I might be able
to stay with my children. For the first time since this had all started, I felt
a little hope. She convinced me to speak up about what had really happened.”
Carmichael moved to stand directly in front
of Grayson, her intense eyes fixed on the other woman. In a calm, low voice she
asked, “How do you feel about what you did to your husband? Do you think it was
right?”
Looking down at her hands, Grayson again
tried unsuccessfully not to cry. In an unsteady voice she answered, “I don’t
know. I didn’t feel I had any other choice at the time.”
“And now?” Carmichael pressed, taking a step
closer. “Do you still feel you had no other choice?”
Without looking up at her, Grayson nodded.
“Yes.”
“Do you feel any remorse?” she asked,
allowing her irritation to be heard in her voice.
Covering her mouth with her hand, Grayson
sobbed quietly. After a moment, she looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Yes.”
“Then don’t you think you deserve to be
punished?” she asked pointedly. Before Morgan had a chance to object,
Carmichael turned away and said, “Withdrawn. I have nothing further for this
witness, Your Honor.”
***Carmichael
tore a sheet from her legal pad, wadded it up, and tossed it into the trash can
several feet away.
“Nice shot,” McCoy commented from the
doorway. He walked to the chair across from her and slumped down. Noting the
frustrated look on her face, he asked, “Something wrong?”
“Just rewriting my closing for the third time
this afternoon.” She leaned her head against the back of her chair. “I knew
what I was going to say before Sara Grayson took the stand. I was going to
point out how she didn’t admit to anyone that she was abused until she was
facing a prison sentence, and how she carefully planned everything before she
acted, then tried to hide what she had done. Now if I say anything even hinting
that I don’t believe the abuse occurred, I’m going to sound like an idiot. I
don’t have a clue what I’m going to say.”
“Sounds like after hearing her testimony, you
believe her story.”
“My vote doesn’t count. What matters is what
the jury believes.”
“And what does the jury believe?” he asked.
She sighed tiredly. “They believe Sara put up
with her husband about nineteen years and eleven months longer than she should
have. They’re wondering why she didn’t do him in sooner.” With a slight shrug,
she added, “I could use some pointers.”
McCoy grew thoughtful, knowing how seldom she
asked for help and taking the request seriously. “Don’t undermine what the jury
feels. Let them know that they can be sympathetic for what this woman
experienced and still think what she ultimately did was wrong. Taking the law
into one’s own hands is never the answer.”
She nodded. “I don’t know why I couldn’t
think of that. I feel like my brain is full of cobwebs this afternoon.”
He smiled. “Maybe you need a change of
scenery again. Want to go get a drink after you’re finished?”
Shaking her head, she replied, “The last
thing I need is a drink. What I really need is about an hour’s worth of running
to clear my head.”
“Why don’t you go? If you don’t want to run
alone, I’m sure Todd would be happy to go with you. How did that work out the
other evening, anyway?”
Carmichael sat forward and picked up her
pencil. “He was definitely reading more into the invitation than I intended, so
I had to set him straight. I don’t think it would be a good idea to ask him to
go with me again. And running alone doesn’t sound very appealing right now.”
Noting that she was not in the mood for
teasing, he let the subject of her assistant drop, and said kindly, “It’s
almost over, Abbie. As soon as the trial is finished, I’m sure you and Calea
will patch things up. I spoke with her this morning and she seemed to be fairly
amicable when she mentioned you. Maybe you can talk with her after the verdict
comes in.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. As he got up and started
for the door she said, “Thanks for helping, Jack. I’ll let you know how it
goes.”
“Break a leg, tomorrow,” he called over his
shoulder.