Shana locked her hands in her lap and stared down at her whitening knuckles. A wall clock ticked stolidly in the silence, lights gleaming on the brass pendulum. In a low voice, Shana told how the man had knelt to take off her sandals, how a rivet had torn from the cloth while he jerked and pulled at her cut-off jeans, of the tearing of her cotton shirt... How after releasing her from the chair he had pushed her across to a canvas cot, forcing her to lie on her back, then had bound her wrists over her head to the wooden supports of the cot...
“And you were struggling all of this time?” the judge asked her.
“I was trying to talk to him,” Shana said, “but I was kicking him too. He... he spread my legs and tied my ankles to the sides of the cot. It hurt, the leather was cutting me, and I got mad. Real mad. I asked him what I’d ever done to him, and what reason did he have to treat me this way, I told him he was going to get into trouble... He started... doing it to me then and I don’t know if I struggled anymore. I was screaming but wasn’t sure it was really me screaming. The music was so loud. I thought if I’m not sure who’s screaming, maybe this isn’t happening, but he kept on doing it and I knew who was screaming then... it was like all of me... my whole body... was screaming.”
Brett put a hand on her arm. “Just take your time, Shana.”
“No. I’m all right.”
Judge Flood said, “We can recess here for a few minutes—”
“No, I want to get it over with.”
“I understand your feelings, but painful as it may be, you must tell us in detail” — Judge Flood looked sharply at the gallery; whispers had started among the spectators.
Earl Thomson spoke to Davic, his words softly blurred but carrying a tone of derision.
Flood rapped his gavel. “The court will be cleared if there is any disorder in the gallery. Miss Brett, you will elicit the testimony that is required of your witness.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Shana, you have testified that the defendant, Earl Thomson, did something to you while your wrists and ankles were bound to the frame of the cot. Would you please describe his actions?”
“He got on top of me. He put his penis between my legs and forced it into my vagina. He was shouting something about women and squeezing my breasts hard. He hit me in the face when he got soft in me and fell out. His face was wet when he put his head between my legs. He licked me, between my legs, then started hitting me again. He got up and untied my hands. He went into the kitchen and filled his glass again. I hoped he’d get drunk and go to sleep. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I didn’t know why he was shouting at me and hitting me. Everything inside my head was white. I had a feeling I could write words on it if I just knew how. I was frightened, but I was sad, because I knew he was going to kill me and I started to cry because nothing made any sense.”
This time Davic did not object to Shana’s conclusions.
“I must ask you one or two more questions,” Brett said. “Then we’ll be through with this. Did the defendant tie your hands to the cot a second time?”
“Yes, he untied my feet and made me turn over. After that, he tied me up again.”
“Tied your wrists and your ankles to the frame of the cot?”
“Yes.”
“You were then lying face down on the cot, is that right, Shana?”
Shana nodded, moistened her lips. Her face had become red.
“While you were in that position,” Brett went on, “would you describe what the defendant did to you?”
“He got on top of me again—” Shana swallowed hard and looked at her hands.
Brett said, “May I lead the witness at this point, Your Honor?”
“Yes, Miss Brett.”
“Shana, did the defendant force an entry into your anus, up your anal aperture, using his erect penis for that purpose? Is that what he did?”
“Yes, Miss Brett.”
“Is there anything else?”
“I started screaming and he pushed my face against the mattress. It was hard. It hurt so. It was like something hot from a fire... then he was yelling, and then he suddenly stopped, was quiet. He stayed on top of me for a long time, just lying there. Then he moved around and put his... his penis in my mouth.”
Judge Flood pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The pressure left white marks.
In a quiet, strangely distant voice, Shana told about leaving the farmhouse and sitting in the Porsche while Earl Thomson went into the garage. She told about his efforts to get the car out of the rutted driveway, using a shovel and shafts of wood and kindling.
When she finished, Brett turned to the bench and told Judge Flood she had no further questions.
“Mr. Davic?” Flood looked down at the defense table.
“No questions, Your Honor, not at this time.”
Earl Thomson muttered, “What bullshit, what bullshit...”
Davic stood and said in an overriding voice, “Considering the painful nature of Miss Selby’s testimony, I won’t add to her ordeal at this point. But the Defense reserves the right to cross-examine.”
Brett helped Shana down from the witness stand and led her to the People’s table.
His daughter was pale, Selby saw, her lips dry and trembling a little.
As they walked past Judge Flood and the jurors, Brett squeezed Shana’s arm and gave her a quick nod of encouragement.
When Shana was seated, Brett said, “Your Honor, the Commonwealth will call no other witnesses. The People rest, if it please the court.”
A commotion then broke out at the defense table. Attorney Royce was trying to quiet Earl Thomson. Davic gripped Thomson’s shoulders, but he knocked the lawyer’s hands away.
“I don’t give a damn,” Thomson said. “It’s a phony setup and you know it, Davic.” His face tight with anger, he stood so abruptly that he almost knocked over the defense table. Papers fell and scattered onto the floor. “It’s a goddamn lie, it’s all lies... how long do you expect me to sit here and take this—?”
Marshals moved quickly from their posts to converge on him. Judge Flood hammered his gavel and spectators stood, craning to follow the action.
Thomson shouldered Davic aside and took a step toward Brett and Shana. “Some con game... you bitches... not one word of truth in any of it...”