That’s the truth. If I could take the stand and tell Dr. Nina Rothmann the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, that’s what I’d tell her.
But Mr. Goodenough made out how I’d plotted and planned to kill Kyle for his insurance policy and how I sneaked up on him and shot him in the back of the head from behind. Like I would plan for Jarrad to hear that gun go off so loud! The D.A. claimed how I tore up my own house to make it look like burglars so people would think I wasn’t anywhere around and it was the burglars that set fire to my husband. But how I was so dumb I used my own brother’s gun and left my fingerprints on it and on the kerosene can too and left them both right at the scene. The D.A. said I never meant to really commit suicide in the Marriott. It was a “ploy.”
Mr. Goodenough spent a lot of time telling the jury, “Imagine the horror and anguish” of Mr. and Mrs. Markell when they saw their only son smoldering on a brush pile. Then he’d hold up the crime scene photos (that my lawyer tried to get excluded but he lost) and wave them right at the jury and shout, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, just imagine!”
Both the Markells testified against me. They were the State’s last witnesses. Mr. Markell slumped and looked beaten down. Mrs. Markell could scarcely sit still on the stand she hated me so much. Course that was true even before all this. I didn’t like her either. She had spoiled Kyle so bad he told me himself how when he was little he would kick and slap her and she wouldn’t do a thing about it if they were in public except give him what he wanted. On the stand Mrs. Markell said it didn’t surprise her at all that I’d killed her son and she wouldn’t rest easy till I had paid the price. They had to haul her off the chair she was shouting at me so loud even after she was excused. Her face looked just like Kyle’s when he was yelling.
I’ll tell you how I could rest easy even strapped down in the death chamber. That’s if I knew Priscilla Markell had lost her case trying to get my baby Jarrad away from Mawmaw. I can’t stand the thought of her screaming at Jarrad until he turns into a screamer too. And Tilden Snow has promised me he won’t let that happen even if I do get the maximum. Which he’s worried I’m going to get if all he’s got on the defense side is character witnesses and the emergency doctor saying I really did try to kill myself judging from my stomach.
But some things you can’t do. And letting Mr. Goodenough ask me sarcastic personal questions and twist my answers around into lies and make fun of me and say I don’t deserve to be Jarrad’s mama is one of them.
So that’s all the far we’d got to in my trial by this morning. And that’s when all of a sudden Dr. Rothmann calls over the bailiff and hands him a note and then the judge studies it for a minute at the bench and then the judge says we’re taking a recess and he calls Counselor Goodenough and Counselor Snow to “come in my chambers,” and they all leave us sitting here, waiting and waiting.
About an hour later, Tilden Snow comes back looking surprised but sort of smug. He motions for Mawmaw to lean forward and he whispers to us all this stuff about how Mr. Goodenough was backing down and dropping Murder One because otherwise he’s going to get a hung jury and how if they could work it out would I agree to say I’d shot Kyle but I didn’t plan to. Would I say I did it without premeditating and when I’d gone to pieces for a minute. I look at Mawmaw and she pats my hand. I tell him yes I will say that because it’s the truth. Tilden Snow says I ought to thank my stars he got Dr. Rothmann put on my jury! I swear I think he even believed it was his plan all along, after he’d told me I was wrong for trusting her. He runs back off to the judge’s chambers, all puffed up like a little rooster in a tan suit.
So we wait some more. After a while Mawmaw leans over again from the row behind me and every now and then I can feel her hand patting me on the back. Right through my blouse I can feel the stiffness of her fingers and the calluses and rough spots on her hand like each one had a memory in it like a electric spark. I can see her mopping the kitchen floor of this house, and me helping her make the beds in that house, and us walking in the rain to the bus stop from this other house, dropping off the trash bags on the way. I can see her fingers working to tie the bow on my dress the day she took me to Tilden Snow’s grandma’s big house that they called Heaven’s Hill. That was the day the little boy ran out the front door and hollered, “That’s my swing. Get off of it.” It was only after his grandmama came out with Mawmaw and told him to be nice to me because I belonged to the cleaning lady that he said, “I’m Tilden Snow. You want to marry me?”
I said to him, “No, I don’t.” And I looked over at Mawmaw ’cause I was worried she’d be mad but she was smiling like I had said the right thing.
So I’m feeling all these memories in Mawmaw’s hand while she rubs my back. Then the jury comes back with the judge and all, and Dr. Rothmann stops in front of me for a second and looks right in my eyes. And I nod at her and behind me Mawmaw stands up and gives her a little bow.
After a lot of talking, the judge tells me to stand up and I do and say I’m guilty and I get fifteen years. The first thing I think is, I’ll get out in time for Jarrad’s high school graduation. Then they come over to take me out. I turn around and I grab both of Mawmaw’s hands and I kiss them. I say, “I’m sorry, Mawmaw, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
She says, “You hang on, baby.”
So I do.
GALAHAD, INC. by Joan H. Parker and Robert B. Parker
The lettering on the door said GALAHAD, INC. When Jamal Jones opened the door and went in, there were two white people. The woman was blond with big blue eyes and a wide mouth. Jamal stared at her for a moment. Bitchin’ body. The man was tall and had a mustache. They both smiled at him. Having entered, Jamal didn’t know what to do next.
“I’m Nick West,” the man said. “This is my wife, Holly.”
“Jamal Jones.”
“Come in,” Holly said. “Have a seat.”
Jamal sat. They looked like money to him. White money. Good clothes. Nice perfume. View of the harbor. He felt uneasy. It made him aggressive.
“You ever hear of me?” he said. “I play basketball at Taft.”
“You been suspended,” Nick said.
Jamal had cornrows and baggy clothes and tattoos on his neck.
“Tha’s a bad rap, man,” Jamal said.
“Which is why you’re here,” Holly said.
“I read that article about you in the paper,” Jamal said.
Nick grinned at him.
“The Couple of Last Resort,” Nick said.
“Huh?”
“That was what the paper called us,” Holly said.
“Yeah,” he said, “well, I got suspended for groping some broad at a party and I don’t even know the bitch… excuse me, ma’am.”
Holly smiled. “What’s the bitch’s name?” she said.
“Tricia Clark,” Nick said.
They both looked at him.
“She says at a party you came up behind her and put your hand down the front of her jeans.”
“I never even seen her,” Jamal said.