Chapter 19

When Carmichael had collected her files and notes, she turned to find McCoy walking through the double doors of the courtroom.

“Can I bum a ride back to the office?” he asked as she met him. “Serena had to leave to do some work on another case and I rode with her this morning.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “I could use the company. Todd and I came in separate cars today.”

As they walked towards the elevators, McCoy asked, “Where have you been keeping yourself? I saw neither hide nor hair of you yesterday after court or this morning.”

“Before I got back to the office yesterday, I got a page from Green to meet him and Briscoe over at the 27^th to talk with a hit and run suspect they had picked up. I had to appear for the arraignment early this morning, so I didn’t make it to the office. I’ve had two very long days in a row and I’m beat.”

“How are things going with the case?”

“All right, I suppose,” Carmichael answered. “Calea brought in her expert on battered-woman syndrome, yesterday. I was able to get him to admit much the same thing my expert did, that a lot of what Sara did didn’t fit the profile, but Calea muddied the waters again on re-examination. This morning, Sandy Hamilton told everyone why she thought Sara had reason to kill Mitchell. She was sort of flaky though, so I don’t think she came across as being all that credible. This afternoon, Nick Russell from Green’s old precinct detailed his investigation of the religious group the Grayson’s belonged to, but on cross, he admitted he didn’t know anything about the Grayson’s situation specifically, so I don’t think his testimony did much for the defense either.”

As they stepped into the elevator, he asked, “Who’s up for tomorrow?”

“Briscoe, probably. I’m sure Calea is eager for the jury to hear how an experienced police detective changed his mind about her client’s motive.”

“Juries don’t take what cops say as gospel anymore. Be sure you point out how they’re sometimes wrong,” he advised.

She nodded. “I think Calea is also going to call some higher-up from the Grayson’s church, although I’m not really sure why. I doubt he’s going to admit that they all routinely beat their wives. It should be interesting, though.”

“I’m sure you can handle it,” he said as they left the elevator. “Any plans for this evening?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m going running.”

He turned in surprise to face her. “With Calea?”

Carmichael shook her head. “I’m going with Todd, which should give you some indication of how desperate I’ve become.”

“So what do you have against Todd?” he asked with a teasing look.

“I don’t have anything against him, I would just rather not spend my off time with him.”

“Well I get the feeling he’d like to spend his off time with you. He asked some very suspicious questions about you when he and I had lunch yesterday. I think he’s getting ready to make a move,” McCoy predicted.

Carmichael rolled her eyes and groaned. “Great. One more thing to worry about.”

“Be gentle with him,” he suggested with a smile.

Giving him an annoyed look she said, “You’re enjoying this way too much. And stop encouraging him. The next time the two of you have lunch, talk about the weather, for Pete’s sake.”

***“Detective Briscoe, the last time you testified before this court you explained to us that you initially felt Mrs. Grayson had no reason for killing her husband. You then said that upon further investigation, you changed your opinion. You stated, and I quote, ‘I don’t think she acted without cause’. What made you change your mind?”

“Several things,” he responded. “First, my partner and I were contacted by Sandy Hamilton, who had known the defendant for several years. She told us she suspected Mrs. Grayson had been abused by her husband. Some of her other comments led us to Detective Russell. He told us of the investigation he had conducted into the Fellowship of the Harvest, a group the Grayson’s were members of. After that we visited Alissa Grayson and our conversation with her, along with everything else, convinced us that her mother had been abused.”

“Alissa Grayson told you her father had abused her mother?”

“Not in so many words,” Briscoe noted. “It was more what she didn’t say that convinced us. She became very upset when we mentioned the abuse allegation, and even though she didn’t confirm it, she also didn’t deny it. She begged us not to ask her any questions about what went on in regards to their religious practices, and she tried to take the blame for what her mother had done by saying she was the cause of it.”

“How so?”

“She told us her father was thinking of arranging a marriage between her and one of the other members of the Fellowship of the Harvest, and that her mother was against it. She said her mother had stood up to her father on the matter, something she never did. That gave us a pretty good clue. She also stated that her mother had told them she wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her children. Then when I asked Alissa who it was her mother was trying to protect her from, the man who wanted to marry her or her father, she broke down. We stopped questioning her at that time.”

“Why didn’t you insist that she answer your question?”

“We didn’t pursue the issue because it didn’t seem appropriate to do so. If she had been a suspect, we would have pressed a little harder, but she was a fifteen year old girl who had just learned that her mother had killed her father. And it’s been my experience that when a child reveals something a parent has done, no matter what that parent may be guilty of, the child can’t help but feel as if he or she has betrayed the parent. Alissa seemed traumatized enough as it was. We didn’t want to add to her distress.”

Morgan nodded. “You came to the same conclusion I did, Detective, which is why I didn’t question her about her father when she appeared before this court.”

Carmichael rose from her chair. “Objection. Move to strike. I wasn’t aware that we were giving summations at this time or that defense council had been sworn in to offer opinion as testimony.”

“Withdrawn,” Morgan stated before Judge Yee could give a ruling. “Detective Briscoe, given your experience with other cases, did you think Mrs. Grayson’s actions after the fact were normal for someone who had finally struck out at an abusive spouse?”

“I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “She seemed rather nonchalant when we initially questioned her. Looking back, I would say she was more resigned than indifferent, and resignation can certainly be an indication of abuse.”

“Thank you, Detective. I have no further questions.”

Before Morgan had even resumed her seat, Carmichael addressed Briscoe. “So even though there is no hard evidence that Mrs. Grayson was abused, you came to the conclusion that she had been.”

“Yes,” Briscoe answered.

“Because of what Mrs. Hamilton, Detective Russell, and Alissa Grayson said to you?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it possible that Mrs. Hamilton’s statements were a result of a sense of loyalty to the defendant? That she convinced herself she saw something that wasn’t there in order to help her friend?”

“It’s possible, but there was other evidence to support her statements.”

“You mean the information Detective Russell supplied?”

“That was part of it.”

“But his investigation involved a different member of the Grayson’s religious group, and he wasn’t even able to uncover enough evidence to bring charges. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes, but what he told us confirmed what we had already heard about the Fellowship of the Harvest members’ treatment of their wives.”

“Did Detective Russell have any information on the Graysons specifically?”

“Not specifically, but what he did have showed a pattern of action for their members.”

“Even though none of the allegations were ever proven?”

“We read his report. He talked with enough people who made the same accusations to give them weight in our eyes. Where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire, Counselor.”

Carmichael chose to ignore the crack. “And Alissa Grayson’s non-admission is what sold you. Is that correct?”

“Her reactions to our questions, along with what we had already learned, did convince us.”

“You testified that Alissa was upset when you questioned her. Isn’t it possible you simply misread her reactions?”

“My job requires that I be a pretty good judge of human nature. Kids aren’t very adept at hiding what they feel under close scrutiny, especially not under those circumstances. So in my opinion, we read her correctly.”

“You seem very sure of your opinions, Detective. Would you please tell us what you said to your superior, Lieutenant Van Buren, when you and your partner returned from speaking with Mitchell Grayson’s coworkers on the day Mrs. Grayson was arrested?”

“I’ve had a lot of conversations with my Lieutenant. I don’t recall exactly what I said on that particular occasion,” Briscoe answered affably.

Carmichael gave him a disapproving look before saying, “Maybe I can refresh your memory. Didn’t you say that this case looked like one where the husband was an innocent victim and the wife fell off the deep end?”

“I may have said something to that effect, but that was when we first began the investigation.”

“So now you’re admitting that your opinions aren’t always right?”

“I made the statement I did before I had all the facts. The opinion I hold now is based on further, detailed investigation. And as the People have already stated, I’m an expert at investigating,” Briscoe pointed out with a hint of sarcasm.

Crossing her arms, Carmichael looked anything but amused. “Your Honor, please instruct the witness to limit his remarks to answers to questions that have been posed.”

“Consider yourself so instructed, Detective,” Judge Yee advised warningly.

Carmichael shook her head slowly, appearing to be puzzled. “So even though it took you four days to track Sara Grayson down after finding her husband’s body, even after learning about the plans she had made prior to murdering her husband, and even though you found no hard evidence to support her claims of abuse, you’re convinced that when Sara Grayson took Mitchell Grayson’s life, it was a matter of self-defense?”

“Yes,” he answered succinctly.

Carmichael moved to stand directly in front of him, her arms still crossed. “Tell me something, Detective: In all the cases you have investigated where a woman killed her abuser, how many of them did so while the abuser was asleep?”

***As Carmichael and Penland were walking toward the elevators, they heard a familiar voice behind them.

“Mind if I join you, or is this a private party?”

With a no-nonsense glare, Carmichael answered, “You can only join us if you promise to keep the wise-cracks to a minimum.”

McCoy looked at Penland. “Did I say something wrong?”

The other man shook his head. “She’s just a little testy.”

“Oh?”

“I just finished questioning Briscoe,” Carmichael explained. “He was in rare form today and I’ve had about all the lip I can take.”

Shaking his head, McCoy smiled. “You always take your chances where Briscoe is concerned.” As they reached the elevator, he asked, “Do you have any idea where Calea was going?”

“I saw her leave the courtroom with her client,” Penland answered. “I guess they were going to confer. There are only a couple of witnesses left on her list besides Grayson, so maybe she’s prepping her to testify today.”

“She won’t call Sara today,” Carmichael assured him. “She’ll stretch things out and call her in the morning. Calea wants the jury to digest what they hear today so they’ll be fresh for her client’s testimony tomorrow. It will stick in their minds better that way.” Addressing McCoy she added, “Looks like you’re stuck with us for lunch.”

He shrugged. “Looks like. Why don’t you page Serena and ask her to join us? She’s probably still in the building. We may as well make it an office party.”

***After he was sworn in, Isaac Fillmore sat down in the witness stand. He was a tall man of average build with coal black eyes and permanent frown lines etched into his brow. He watched Morgan approach with his head tilted back slightly, conveying an air of imagined superiority.

“Mr. Fillmore, what is your occupation?”

“I am the director and pastor of the Fellowship of the Harvest. And my title is ‘Reverend’ Fillmore.”

Morgan regarded him coolly for a moment before continuing, “Would you please briefly explain your organization’s beliefs concerning the roles of each family member, Mr. Fillmore?”

Glaring at Morgan’s slight, he answered, “It’s quite simple. As the Good Book says, the head of the husband is Christ, the head of the wife is the husband and the head of the children are the parents.”

“And what does being the ‘head’ encompass?”

“The responsibilities of the parents are to provide for and teach their children right from wrong. The husband has the primary role in this regard, and he is also responsible for taking the lead where his wife is concerned.”

“And is discipline a part of a husband and father’s responsibility?”

“Of course.”

“Does this include corporal punishment?”

Fillmore smiled patronizingly. “I know it’s an unpopular notion in this day and time, but the Bible indicates that corporal punishment is an accepted form of discipline. ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’ as it says.”

“And would disciplining one’s wife also include corporal punishment?” Morgan asked.

“It isn’t my place to make blanket policy for all members of our church. How a husband and wife work out their differences is a matter to be decided between the two of them.”

“But physically punishing one’s wife is not something discouraged by your organization, correct?”

Shaking his head, Fillmore said, “I have already explained to you that how a husband and wife choose to handle a matter is not for me to say.”

Morgan took a few steps closer to the stand. “All right. Then let me ask you this: If the wife of one of your members approached you, told you her husband was beating her and asked for help, in your capacity as pastor, what would you advise her?”

He shrugged. “I would remind her of her scriptural obligation to obey and submit to her husband and head.”

“And what of her husband’s obligation to love and cherish his wife? Can that be reconciled with his hitting her?”

“Parents are told in the Bible to love their children, too, but that doesn’t preclude them from using the rod to discipline them when it’s needed,” Fillmore answered, becoming more animated.

“Would it surprise you to know that in the original Hebrew language in which the verse you referred to was written, the word translated ‘rod’ simply meant a shepherd’s staff, Mr. Fillmore? A shepherd uses his staff to gently guide his sheep. He never strikes them with it.”

“I wouldn’t know about the Hebrew language, Ms. Morgan. I speak English and my Bible is written in the same language. And there are other instances in the Good Book where it speaks of physical punishment,” he said with some irritation. “Being a good leader, whether it be of a family or some other institution, requires control. And no where is control more needed than within the family environment.”

Morgan’s eyebrows arched. “Control? What happened to disciplining with, and because of, love?”

“Love requires that we discipline those we care about. ‘The Lord disciplines those he loves.’ Hebrews 12:6.”

Moving to stand even closer, Morgan asked, “Did Mitchell Grayson discipline his wife?”

Fillmore nodded slowly, closing his eyes briefly as if in reverence. “Mitchell Grayson loved his wife and children very much. He was a fine Christian man and a loyal friend.”

“To your knowledge, did he ever use physical punishment as a means to discipline his wife?”

Turning to look at her scornfully, he said, “I didn’t live with the Graysons. I can’t answer that question.”

“Didn’t Mrs. Grayson come to you and tell you that he had, asking for your help?”

He turned his attention to Grayson, who visibly cringed under his intense gaze. Anger seeped into his voice as he answered, “Sara Grayson is a liar and I will not repeat anything that woman has ever said to me.” His voice grew louder and his eyes seemed to burn as he stared at her. “She is…”

“Mr. Fillmore,” Morgan interrupted.

“…a murderer,” he continued. “I know what she …”

“Mr. Fillmore,” Morgan said more sternly. When he turned his face toward her, she met his enraged eyes unwavering. “That is all. I don’t have any more questions for you.”

Morgan stood beside the witness stand, her eyes locked with Fillmore’s. Only when she was sure he was not going to continue his tirade did she return to her chair.

Carmichael sat for a moment, watching the man before her literally seethe with anger. She was more than a little surprised that Morgan had chosen to call him as a witness. His dislike for Grayson was palpable, and she couldn’t see that his testimony had served any useful purpose to the defense. In fact, she saw an opportunity to use Fillmore’s dislike to the prosecution’s advantage.

Giving him a few more seconds to calm down, she took her time rising and approaching the stand. When she spoke, it was in a placating voice.

“Reverend Fillmore, how well did you know Mitchell Grayson?”

Finally turning his eyes from the direction of the defense table, he looked at Carmichael blankly for a moment before answering, “I knew him very well. He was a member of my church for almost ten years.”

“What kind of man was he?”

“He was a good man. He took an interest in his family that is sadly lacking in most men these days. Many times we had lengthy discussions on the perils this world holds for our young people. He was concerned for the spiritual as well as physical welfare of his family. I’m proud to say that he was my friend.”

“Given that you were Mitchell Grayson’s friend and the families’ pastor for such a long time, would you say they appeared to be happy?”

Fillmore turned his eyes on Grayson once again. “For the most part, they seemed to be happy. But Sara was a complainer. She was never satisfied. She worked outside of the home, instead of spending needed time with her children. Mitchell made a good living, but she felt it wasn’t enough.”

Morgan stood up. “Move to strike. The witness previously stated that he didn’t live with the Grayson’s and therefore didn’t know the details of their personal life. He couldn’t know what my client was feeling unless she communicated it to him in his capacity as pastor, which would make it privileged.”

Addressing the bench, Carmichael argued, “Your Honor, we’re not talking about the sanctity of a confessional here. Defense has established that Mrs. Grayson came to Reverend Fillmore and spoke with him. It stands to reason that he would have learned something about her thoughts and feelings and could relay those without revealing anything that would be considered privileged.”

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Yee stated. “You did open the door, Ms. Morgan.”

Turning back to Fillmore, Carmichael continued. “Reverend, when Ms. Morgan cut off your response to her last question, you were saying that you knew something about Mrs. Grayson. Would you please tell us what you were going to say?”

Carmichael half expected to hear an objection from Morgan, but none was forthcoming as Fillmore focused once more on the defense table and declared, “This woman killed my brother, by her own admission. Then she lied to cover up her sin.” His voice grew more forceful as he sat forward in his chair, fixated on Grayson. “‘The murderers and all liars–their place will be in the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.’” Allowing his anger to finally getting the best of him, he stood up, pointed a finger at Grayson, and raised his voice even more, barely keeping it under a shout. “She has committed the unforgivable sin! She is a Jezebel and she will burn for all eternity!”

Carmichael took a step back from the witness stand and Fillmore’s rage as Judge Yee banged her gavel, trying to restore order after the outburst.

Glancing over her shoulder, Carmichael saw Morgan put her arm around her crying client as Fillmore slowly lowered his hand. Although Judge Yee instructed Fillmore to sit down, it was several seconds more before he finally complied.

Once quiet had fallen over the courtroom again, Carmichael said, “I have no more questions.”

Returning to her chair, she exchanged a look with Morgan. In that brief moment, she was sure she detected a note of satisfaction in the other woman’s eyes.

When Morgan suggested that court resume when her client was in a better emotional state, Yee concurred and dismissed for the day.

Carmichael asked Penland to meet her outside, then waited until the courtroom had mostly cleared. When Morgan turned to leave, she stood in front of her.

With a smirk, she said, “That was quite a show. Did I perform my part as expected?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Morgan responded innocently.

“I’m referring to the fact that you put a loaded gun up there and counted on me to trip the hair trigger.”

“You didn’t have to ask him any questions.”

“But you knew I would,” Carmichael accused, irritated at herself for not realizing Morgan’s intent sooner. “Given his obvious dislike for your client, you knew I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. You got just enough out of him to make him sound credible, then let me be the one to show the jury what a lunatic he is.”

Morgan’s eyebrows arched. “Are you saying that I set you up for Mr. Fillmore’s ranting by taking advantage of something I knew of your personal nature?” She smiled and shrugged. “I guess what goes around, comes around. See you tomorrow, Counselor.”

Carmichael stood where she was, watching her walk from the courtroom. Then huffing out a breath, she shook her head. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it coming.

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