by John Grisham
“What happened to your kids?”
“They were placed in foster care, in good homes. I got to see them occasionally. I split up with the guy, got a divorce, and managed to get my kids back.”
“What happened the second time?”
“I was livin’ with a house painter who also sold drugs. He got caught and plea-bargained his way out by tellin’ the authorities that the drugs belonged to me. A bad lawyer convinced me to plead to a lesser sentence and I got sent away to a women’s prison in Texas. Served two years. Drew and Kiera were placed in a Baptist orphanage in Arkansas and were treated very well.”
Don’t volunteer too much, Jake had warned her repeatedly. At the moment, she felt as though she knew every question Dyer might throw at her.
“Do you still use drugs?”
“No sir, I don’t. I quit years ago, for the sake of my kids.”
“Did you ever sell drugs?”
“Yes.”
“So you admit that you’ve used drugs, sold drugs, lived with drug dealers, been arrested, how many times?”
“Four.”
“Arrested four times, convicted twice, and served time in prison.”
“I’m not proud of any of that, Mr. Dyer.”
“Who would be? And you expect this jury to believe in your credibility as a witness and believe all of your testimony?”
“Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Dyer?”
“I’ll ask the questions, Ms. Gamble. Your job is to answer them.”
“Yes, I expect the jury to believe every word I’ve said because it’s all true. I may have lied before, but I assure you that lyin’ was the least of my sins.”
The smart move would be to stop the bleeding. She was scoring far more points than the prosecutor. Brigance had her prepped to the max and she was ready for anything.
Dyer was a smart man. He fumbled with some papers and finally said, “Nothing further, Your Honor.”
46
Kiera entered the courtroom with a bailiff trailing behind. She walked slowly, looking down to avoid the stares. She wore a simple, drip-dry cotton dress that was tight around the middle. By the time she stopped and faced the court reporter, everyone in the courtroom was staring at her belly. There were whispers in the gallery and several of the jurors glanced around, as if embarrassed for this poor child. She backed into the witness chair and sat gingerly, obviously uncomfortable. She glanced at the jurors as if ashamed, a terrified kid facing an adult’s screwed-up world.
Jake said, “You are Kiera Gamble, sister of the accused, correct?”
“Yes sir.”
“How old are you, Kiera?”
“Fourteen.”
“You are obviously pregnant.”
“Yes sir.”
Jake had played this scene a thousand times, had lost hours of sleep over it, and had argued and debated and dissected it with his wife and his team. He couldn’t blow it. Calmly, he asked, “When is your baby due, Kiera?”
“Late next month.”
“And, Kiera, who is the father of your child?”
As coached, she leaned a bit closer to the mike and said, “Stuart Kofer.”
There were gasps and loud reactions, and almost immediately Earl Kofer yelled, “That’s a damned lie!” He stood and pointed at her and said, “That’s a damned lie, Judge!” Janet Kofer shrieked and buried her face in her hands. Barry Kofer said, loudly, “What a crock of shit!”
“Order! Order!” Noose yelled back angrily. He rapped his gavel as Earl yelled again, “How much more of this shit do we have to take, Judge? It’s a damned lie.”
“Order in the court! We will maintain decorum!” Two uniformed bailiffs were scurrying to Earl on the third row behind the prosecution. He was waving his finger and yelling, “This is not fair, Judge! My boy is dead and they’re lyin’ about him! Lies, lies, lies!”
“Remove that man from the courtroom,” Noose barked into his mike. Cecil Kofer stood next to his father as if ready for a brawl. The first two bailiffs to reach them were seventy years old and already winded, but the third was a rookie who stood six-five, was ripped at two-forty, and held a black belt. He lifted Cecil under a wet armpit while grabbing Earl by the elbow. He dragged them, cussing and twisting, to the aisle where they were met by other bailiffs and deputies and quickly realized the futility of any further resistance. They were shoved to the door, where Earl stopped and turned around and yelled, “I’ll get you for this, Brigance!”
Jake, along with everyone else in the courtroom, watched and listened in stunned silence. Other than Janet Kofer’s sobbing, and the window units, there were no other sounds as the moment passed. Kiera sat in the witness chair and wiped her eyes. Lowell Dyer glared at Jake as if he might throw a punch. The jurors appeared to be overwhelmed.
His Honor quickly regrouped and barked at a bailiff, “Please remove the jury.”
They hurried out of the box as if they had been released for good. As soon as the door closed behind them, Dyer said, “Your Honor, I have a motion, and it should be heard in chambers.”
Noose glared at Jake as if he might disbar him on the spot, then grabbed his gavel and said, “Let’s take a break. Fifteen minutes. Miss Gamble, you may go sit with your mother for a moment.”
* * *
—
THE WINDOW UNIT in Noose’s chambers was working nicely and the office was much cooler than the courtroom. The judge flung his robe in a chair, lit his pipe, and stood behind his desk with his arms crossed, obviously upset. He glared at Jake and demanded, “Did you know she was pregnant?”
“Yes I did. So did the district attorney.”
“Lowell?”
Dyer was red-faced and furious, with sweat dripping off his chin. “The State moves for a mistrial, Your Honor.”
“On what grounds?” Jake asked coolly.
“On the grounds that we’ve been ambushed.”
“That won’t fly, Lowell,” Jake said. “You saw her in court yesterday and commented to me that she was pregnant. You knew there were allegations of sexual abuse. Now there’s proof.”
Noose asked, “Jake, did you know Kofer is the father?”
“Yes.”
“And when did you know this?”
“We found out in April that she’s pregnant, and she’s always maintained that it was Kofer. She is prepared to testify that he repeatedly raped her.”
“And you kept this quiet?”
“Who was I supposed to tell? Show me a statute or a rule or procedure that requires me to tell anyone that the sister of my client was being raped by the deceased. You can’t find one. I had no duty to tell anyone.”
“But you kept her in hiding,” Dyer said. “Away from everyone.”
“You asked me twice to make her available to you and I did so, in my office. Once on April the second, then on June the eighth.”
Noose shot a flamethrower into the bowl of his pipe and exhaled a fog of blue smoke. No windows were cracked. The tobacco relaxed him and he said, “I don’t like ambushes, Jake, you know that.”
“Then change the rules. We have unlimited discovery in civil cases and almost none in criminal cases. Ambushes are a way of life, especially by the prosecution.”
“I want a mistrial,” Dyer said again.
“And why?” Jake asked. “You want to come back in three months and do it again? Fine with me. We’ll bring the baby and show it to the jury, defense exhibit number one. The blood test will be exhibit two.”
Dyer’s mouth dropped open; stunned again. He managed to say, “You’re pretty good at hiding witnesses, aren’t you, Jake?”
“You’ve already used that cheap shot. Find some new material.”
“Gentlemen. Let’s talk about how to proceed. We’re all in a bit of a shock, I’m afraid. First the pregnant witness, then the outburs
t by the family. I’m worried about our jury.”
Dyer said, “Send ’em home, Judge. We’ll try it again later.”
“No mistrial, Mr. Dyer. Motion denied. Mr. Brigance, I assume that you and this witness are about to discuss the matter of sexual abuse.”
“She’s fourteen years old, Your Honor, far too young to consent. He was twenty years older. Sexual relations between them were illegal, nonconsensual, criminal. She is prepared to testify that he repeatedly raped her and then threatened to kill her and her brother, the defendant, if she told anyone. She was too frightened to talk.”
“Can we limit some of this, Judge?” Dyer pleaded.
“How graphic do you plan to get, Mr. Brigance?”
“I have no plans to discuss body parts, Your Honor. Her body speaks for itself. The jurors are smart enough to understand what happened.”
Noose discharged another cloud of blue smoke and watched it swirl toward the ceiling. “This might get ugly.”
“It’s already ugly, Judge. A fourteen-year-old girl was raped repeatedly and impregnated by a brute who took advantage of her situation. We can’t change the facts. It happened, and any effort on your part to limit her testimony will give us plenty of ammo for the appeal. The law is clear, Your Honor.”
“I didn’t ask for a lecture, Mr. Brigance.”
Yeah, well maybe you need one.
A moment passed as Noose chomped on the stem of his pipe while adding to the fog above the table. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure how to gauge that outburst. Never seen anything like it, really. Wonder how it plays with the jury.”
Dyer said, “I see no way it helps us.”
“It doesn’t help either side,” Jake said.
Noose said, “I’ve never had one of my lawyers threatened like that, Jake. I’ll deal with Mr. Kofer after the trial. Let’s proceed.”
No one in chambers wanted to return to the courtroom to hear Kiera’s testimony.
* * *
—
OMAR NOOSE WAS determined to conduct an efficient and safe trial on his home turf, and he had harangued the sheriff into posting every possible deputy—full-time, part-time, reserve, volunteer—in and around the courthouse. After Earl’s outburst, and threat, even more muscle was present when the lawyers took their places and the jurors filed in.
Kiera returned to the stand, with a tissue, and braced herself.
From the podium, Jake said, “Now, Kiera, you said that Stuart Kofer is the father of your child. So, I have to ask you a series of questions about your sexual relations with him, okay?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“How many times were you raped by Stuart Kofer?”
Dyer was quick to rise and object. He should have remained quiet. “Objection, Your Honor. I object to the word ‘rape,’ which implies a—”
Jake went berserk. He turned to Dyer, took a step, and yelled, “Good God, Lowell! What do you want to call it?! She’s fourteen years old, he was thirty-three.”
“Mr. Brigance,” Noose said.
Jake ignored him and took another step toward Dyer. “You want to use something a bit lighter than ‘rape,’ say ‘sexual attack,’ ‘molestation,’ ‘sexual abuse’?”
“Mr. Brigance.”
“You pick the words, Lowell. The jury’s not stupid. It’s obvious what happened.”
“Mr. Brigance.”
Jake took a deep breath and glared at the judge, as if he might attack him when he was finished with the district attorney.
“You’re out of order, Mr. Brigance.”
Jake said nothing, just kept glaring. His shirt was even wetter, the sleeves rolled up, as if he was ready to start swinging.
“Mr. Dyer?”
Dyer had actually stepped back and was reeling. He cleared his throat and said, “Your Honor, it’s just that I object to the word ‘rape.’ ”
“Objection overruled,” Noose said clearly, loudly, and with no doubt that Mr. Dyer should remain in his seat whenever possible. “Proceed.”
As Jake stepped back to the podium, he glanced at Joey Kepner, number twelve, and saw a contented face.
“Kiera, how many times were you raped by Stuart Kofer?”
“Five.”
“Okay, let’s go back to the first time. Do you remember the date?”
She pulled a small, folded sheet of paper from a pocket and looked at it. It wasn’t necessary because she and Jake, along with Josie, Portia, and Libby, had covered the dates so often that all the details were memorized.
“It was a Saturday, December the twenty-third.”
Jake slowly waved his hand at the jury box and said, “Please tell the jury what happened that day.”
“My mother was workin’ and my brother was at a friend’s house. I was alone upstairs when Stuart came home. I locked my door. I had noticed him starin’ at my legs and I just didn’t trust him. I didn’t like him and he didn’t like us, and, well, things were pretty lousy around the house. I heard him walk up the stairs and then he knocked on the door and rattled the knob. I asked him what he wanted and he said we needed to talk. I said I didn’t want to talk and maybe later. He rattled the doorknob again and told me to unlock the door, said it was his door, his house, and that I had to do what he said. But he was kind of nice for a change, he wasn’t yellin’ or cussin’, and said he wanted to talk about my mother, said he was worried about her. So I unlocked the door and he came in. He was already undressed and was wearin’ nothin’ but his boxer shorts.”
Her voice broke and her eyes watered.
Jake waited patiently. No one was about to rush this testimony. A good cry was always helpful. Carla, Libby, and Portia were locked onto the female jurors, watching every reaction.
Jake said, “I know this is difficult but it’s very important. What happened next?”
“He asked if I’d ever had sex and I said no.”
Dyer reluctantly got to his feet and said, “Objection. Hearsay.”
“Overruled,” Noose snapped.
“He said he wanted to have sex and wanted me to enjoy it with him. I said no. I was terrified and tried to back away from him, but he was very strong. He grabbed me, threw me onto the bed, ripped off my T-shirt and shorts, and he raped me.” She burst into tears as her entire body shook. She shoved the mike away and sobbed with both hands over her mouth.
Half the jurors watched her break down, the other half looked away. Number seven, Mrs. Fife, and number eight, Mrs. Satterfield, were wiping their eyes. Oddly enough, number three, Mr. Kingman, believed by the defense to be one of the staunchest defenders of law and order, glanced at Libby with a curious look, and she caught the unmistakable glow of moisture in his eyes.
After a moment, Jake asked her, “Would you like to take a break?”
The question was rehearsed, as was the answer. A quick “No.” She was a tough girl who had survived a lot and could get through this.
“Now, Kiera, what happened after he was finished?”
“He got up, put on his boxer shorts, and told me to stop cryin’. He said that I’d better get used to it because we were gonna do it all the time, as long as I lived in his house.”
On the way up, Dyer said, “Objection. Hearsay?”
“Overruled,” Noose said without looking at the prosecutor.
On the way down, he tossed a legal pad that fell off the table and landed on the floor. Noose ignored that too.
Jake nodded at Kiera and she continued, “He asked me if I liked it and I said no. I was cryin’ and shakin’ and I thought, you stupid man, how can you think I’d like it? As he was leavin’, I was still in the bed, under a sheet, and he walked over to me and slapped me in the face, but not too hard. And he said that if I told anyone, then he would kill me and Drew.”
“What happened next?”
&
nbsp; “As soon as he left, I went to the bathroom and took a bath. I felt dirty and didn’t want his smell on me. I sat in the tub forever and tried to stop cryin’. I wanted to die, Mr. Brigance. That was the first time in my life that I thought about suicide.”
“Did you tell your mother?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I was afraid of him, we all were, and I knew he would hurt me if I told anyone. As it went on and on, I realized that I might be pregnant. I felt bad in the mornings, got sick at school, and I knew that I would have to tell Mom. I was planning on it when Stu got killed.”
“Did you ever tell Drew?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged and said, “I was too afraid. And what was he supposed to do? I was scared, Mr. Brigance, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“And so you told no one?”
“No one.”
“When was the next rape?”
She looked at her sheet of paper and said, “A week later, December the thirtieth. It was like the first one, at home, on Saturday, with no one else there. I tried to push him away but he was so strong. He didn’t slap me, but he threatened me again when it was over.”
With a loud gasp, almost a shriek, Janet Kofer launched into another round of crying. Noose pointed to her and spoke to a bailiff, “Please remove that lady from the courtroom.”
Two deputies escorted her to the door. Jake watched the disturbance, and when it was finally over, he looked at his witness. “Kiera, please tell the jury about the third rape.”
Kiera was rattled by the outburst and wiped her cheeks. Take your time, Jake had told her over and over. There is absolutely no rush. It will be a short trial anyway, and no one is in a hurry. She leaned closer to the mike and said, “Well, I had to change things for Saturday, so I asked Drew to stay home with me, and he did. Stuart left. A couple of weeks went by and I managed to stay away from him. Then one afternoon Stuart picked me up from school.” She looked at her notes. “It was Tuesday, January sixteen, and I had to stay late to work on a play, a theater project. He volunteered to get me, in his patrol car, and we stopped for ice cream. It was gettin’ late and, lookin’ back, I think he was just killin’ time until it was dark. We drove home, but he took a side road not far from the church, Good Shepherd, and stopped behind an old country store, one that has been closed for a long time. It was very dark out there, not another light anywhere. He told me to get in the backseat. I had no choice. I begged him not to and I thought about screamin’, but no one would hear me. He left a rear door open, and I remember how cold it was.”
