“Does your husband smack or spank the children?”
“He’s pretty poor at discipline.”
“Does he smack them?”
“No.”
“Spank them?”
“No. In my opinion, he lets them get away with way too much. I have to go back and do the correcting he doesn’t bother to do. I have to be the bad cop, while he’s Mr. Fun.”
“Do you yell at them?”
“I don’t think you should yell at your kids.”
“Do you yell at them?”
“I’m sure I have. I’m not going to lie. But I try to be patient and thoughtful.”
“Does your husband yell at them?”
She thought about the question. “No, he doesn’t, not at the kids. Like I said, he plays the nice guy and I get stuck with the trouble after.”
“Can you really describe yourself as a patient person?”
Anyone with eyes could see the restless, jumpy woman in front of the courtroom this morning was anything but.
“I try to be.”
“Would you describe yourself as a happy person on the whole?”
Lisa looked down at her hands, then back up. She refused to meet Nina’s eyes. “I don’t see life that way. Life is a vale of tears. There are such sorrows-” She stopped herself, changing direction. “Happiness is not an end in itself. If you’re lucky, it comes along now and then.”
“Mrs. Cruz, you’ve stated in your deposition that you were very close to your father and took his loss hard. Do you think that has affected your parenting since his death last year?”
Lisa stared at her, and Nina saw what she had been looking for, pushing for, serious anger flickering behind the shadowy brown eyes. She did not like this question. “No.”
“You were seeing a therapist?”
“Yes, but I’ve done that for several years. That’s part of the growth process.”
Nina consulted her notes. “After he died, you took to your bed for three weeks?”
Lisa struggled, then said in a voice fat with distaste, “Yes.”
“Who watched your children during that time?”
“My mother. And Kevin.”
“How long before you recovered from your father’s death?”
“I’ll never get over my father’s death. That doesn’t stop me from functioning. I may not be a barrel of laughs every day.”
“In fact, yesterday on the stand the mediator in your divorce case described you as a ‘restless, troubled person, who blames other people for her unhappiness.’ Do you think that’s accurate?”
“That’s not me.” She shook her head. “I’ve had plenty of joy in my life. Plenty. Just not lately.”
“Your own doctor said you’ve had ongoing problems with depression.”
“I’ve got that licked now,” she said. “I’m off the meds. Joining my church has helped with that a lot.”
“There was another time you took to your bed, wasn’t there?”
“I don’t like that way of putting it.”
“Went into your bedroom and locked the door for several days, wouldn’t talk to Kevin or the kids, ate very little and didn’t feel able to cope?”
“I don’t remem-”
“In Seattle? When you and the family lived there?”
“That was a long time ago. Kevin got in trouble at work. The kids were little, screaming all day. We lived in a small, noisy apartment. I didn’t have a decent stroller that would hold both of them. No washing machine, kids to drag everywhere I went, every single thing I did an ordeal. So, yeah, I’ve had some hard times. I’m stronger for getting through them.”
“Your husband stayed home to take care of you that time, didn’t he?”
“A few times,” she said grudgingly.
“He went to work late and left early?”
“I don’t remember.”
“And lost his job as a result?”
“He lost his job because he screwed up at work. My problems were caused by his problems, not the other way around!”
“Mrs. Cruz, what happens the next time a problem comes along that you can’t solve? Who will be there for your children?”
“My mother helps me a lot. I’m not perfect. I need support, just like anybody. Anyway, right now, my life is going just fine, if I could only settle this thing with Kevin.” Lisa’s arms crossed into the classic defensive position, almost as if she were trying to rein in all the nervous tension she exuded.
Nina decided the time had come.
“Mrs. Cruz, you don’t like to cook, you don’t like to clean, you don’t like chores, yet you admit children are messy; when things get tough you take to your bed; by your own admission, you haven’t gotten over your father’s death; you’re moody, changeable, unpredictable in your discipline-”
Riesner stood up. “Objection!”
“Ms. Reilly, what’s your question?” the judge said.
Nina’s attention never veered away from Lisa Cruz. “-can you really, in good conscience, describe yourself as a good mother?” She held Lisa’s gaze, made her want to open her mouth, made her want to answer, to tell her off, to stop Nina from nipping at her like a bedbug. The fire Lisa had been trying to hide burst into her dark eyes.
Riesner stood quickly. “Your Honor, I-”
But Lisa would not be gagged anymore. “Who do you think you are,” she said, directly addressing Nina. “You-fucking-hypocrite. Are you home with your kid today? I hear you have one. Shame on you. I do my best to have a life and do well by my children. But your job is to distort truth to serve your purposes. If you were defending me, I’d be your golden example, wouldn’t I? It’s so sickening.”
All the time she spoke, Riesner tried to speak louder to shut her up. He waved his hand as if to dissipate the aggression she was finally hurling at Nina.
“Mrs. Cruz! Control yourself,” Judge Milne said finally, taking up his dusty gavel and pounding it once. He looked startled at the noise.
But Lisa ignored him. “Instead I come off here as a selfish bitch, a creature you invent out of some weird bullcrap about my housekeeping, for chrissake. None of that shit matters when it comes to kids, and you know it! They need someone with something more on the ball than a Gestapo-tidy house and three servings of beef a day, which is what Kevin seems to think is required. They need somebody who cares about their souls!” She slapped her hand down on the railing in front of her. “You dare to talk about my father. About my grief. I know all about you. I see right through you, right down into your rotten heart that doesn’t care who gets hurt!”
She stopped, her mouth still open, breathing hard, as though she’d just come in from one of those big runs.
“Do you lose your temper like this with the children, Mrs. Cruz?” Nina said.
“Get off my back!”
“I’m going to adjourn this court for ten minutes,” Judge Milne said as Lisa fell into her chair, shaking, pushing her hair back. “Mr. Riesner, get your client under control. You hear?” He stepped down. Chairs scraped and voices rose behind Nina. The bailiff, Deputy Kimura, had appeared at Lisa Cruz’s side. He took her arm and helped her step down and walk past Nina’s table and didn’t let her slow down for a second. Riesner followed her out.
Kevin’s eyes followed his wife. He turned back to Nina. “You did it,” he said. He didn’t smile.
“I’m sorry,” Nina said. “It had to be done.” And she was sorry, too. Lisa may have had a foul mouth and some weaknesses as a parent, but Nina sensed the depth of the love she felt for her children in every intense word. She was fighting for her life.
“She’s going to have a rough night. You hit hard.”
“Kevin,” Nina said, “something’s going on here. Why was she attacking me? Is this something about her father?”
2
D URING THE BREAK, Nina tried to get Kevin to talk, but he needed to make a nervous trip to the rest room. On her way to the ladies’ room, she ran into Stamp, a senior partner in Riesner’s firm. A tanned, fit, superb-athlete type, a man who would always be more comfortable with a tennis racket or golf club in his hand than a briefcase, he did not brush past her in his usual fashion. “Hey,” he said, coming to a dead halt. “Nina Reilly. It’s been a while. Haven’t seen you since that casino-gambling case.” He pushed a hand into hers for a firm handshake.