Waiting for Morning

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Not in California, no.”

  Carol crossed her arms. “We’ve tried a time or two—” she nodded to Matt—“at least Matt here has. But in the end the jurors simply haven’t been ready.”

  Matt shifted his weight. “We’re hoping this case, and the timing, will change that. Thanks to the education from MADD and other organizations, people want drunk drivers off the road. I think they may be ready to do something more drastic than ever before.” He met Hannah’s watchful look. “I really believe we can get a conviction in this case.”

  “If you do—” Hannah hesitated. “When you do, how many years will Brian Wesley get?”

  “The penalty for this charge is twenty-five years to life. It’ll depend on the jury’s recommendation and the judge.”

  Carol met Hannah’s eyes. “That’s one thing we have going for us this time. Judge Horowitz is fairly conservative. He doesn’t have much sympathy for people who choose to drink and drive and then kill someone in the process.”

  “Of course Wesley would never serve twenty-five years.” Hannah’s eyes narrowed at this, and Matt went on. She needed to know the facts. “He could be out in five, even three years with parole.”

  “Three years! If he gets sentenced to—”

  She broke off when a door opened and Judge Horowitz appeared, his black robe flowing behind him. He climbed effortlessly into his elevated chair and began sifting through documents on his desk.

  Another door opened, and Matt watched Harold Finch enter the room. Behind him came the man Matt presumed was Finch’s defendant. Trailing the procession was a bailiff. The trio walked past Matt and the two women and found seats at the defense table. Finch whispered something to his client.

  Matt turned and found Hannah staring at the men. “That’s Harold Finch there on the right,” he whispered. “He represents the defendant and typically—”

  “Which one is Brian Wesley?”

  Matt caught his breath at the anger in Hannah’s voice. “I’m not positive, but I assume he’s the younger guy on Finch’s left.”

  Hannah was still staring at the man when Matt excused himself.

  The hearing was about to begin.

  Hannah barely noticed Matt leave or the judge bang his gavel and ask the court to come to order. Her attention was fixed on the man sitting next to Harold Finch.

  Somehow she had expected him to be dark and sinister, with the cold eyes of a killer. Instead he was clean-cut with a trim build. He looked like the youth minister at their church. Hannah studied him and felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She clenched her teeth. It didn’t matter how he looked. She hated him. How could you? She glared at him, boring her eyes in the back of his skull. How could you kill my family?

  The judge’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “In the matter of The People v Brian Wesley, I believe the state has a formal charge to file. Is Mr. Wesley present?”

  The young man next to Finch nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Hannah’s gaze remained locked on Wesley as she absently fingered the photo button on her blouse. The nausea intensified. Suddenly the room was spinning, and she had to fight off a wave of lightheadedness. Don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint. She drew a steadying gulp of hot, courtroom air.

  You can do it. She nodded. Yes, she could. This wasn’t about how she felt. This was about what she’d lost. And it was about making Brian Wesley pay for his sins. She closed her eyes for a moment and willed herself to be strong. I’m doing my best, Tom, really I am.

  The judge continued. “Is counsel present for the defendant?”

  The man Matt Bronzan had identified as Harold Finch stood. “Yes, your honor.”

  Judge Horowitz peered down and acknowledged Finch over his oval reading glasses. “Mr. Finch. I assume you will be counsel for the defendant throughout this matter?”

  “I will, your honor.”

  The judge peered at Matt. “Mr. Bronzan.”

  “Your honor.” Matt rose briefly.

  “You’ll be representing the state in this matter, is that right?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “All right then.” He glanced at the docket on his desk. “Mr. Bronzan, please would you inform this court as to the official charge against the defendant, Brian Wesley.”

  “Yes, your honor.” Matt stood and stepped back from his chair. Hannah liked the way he held Judge Horowitz’s gaze. “The people of the state of California do hereby officially charge Mr. Brian Wesley with first-degree murder in the drunk driving deaths of Tom Ryan and Alicia Ryan. In addition, we charge Mr. Wesley with driving under the influence and causing bodily harm while driving under the influence for the injuries suffered by Jenny Ryan.”

  The judge nodded and wrote something on the form in front of him. He looked up. “Are there other charges?”

  “No, your honor.”

  The judge allowed his glasses to slide further down the bridge of his nose so that his squinty eyes could be seen clearly over them. “This is a drunk driving case, is that right?”

  “It is, your honor.” Matt caught his hands behind his back, and his sleek, dark Italian suit opened enough to expose a crisp, white, button-down, tailored dress shirt and a conservative silk tie. Hannah studied him. He moved with an athletic grace, confident and self-assured. Though she’d only just met him, she trusted him completely. If anyone could put Brian Wesley away for a decade it was Matt Bronzan.

  The judge continued. “And you understand, Mr. Bronzan, that by charging the defendant with first-degree murder, you can not later charge him with a lesser crime?”

  “Yes, your honor.” Matt didn’t falter.

  “All right then, the charge has been entered.” Judge Horowitz turned toward Brian Wesley and his attorney. “Mr. Wesley, the state has charged you with first-degree murder in the deaths of Tom Ryan and Alicia Ryan. The state has also charged you with driving under the influence and causing bodily harm while driving under the influence. Do you understand the charges?”

  Hannah’s attention flew to Brian. She could only see his back and the side of his face, but his trembling was visible across the courtroom. Good. Hannah didn’t feel sorry for him. He was a monster.

  Brian rose slowly to his feet and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I understand the charges.”

  “How do you plead?”

  Brian glanced down at Finch, and Hannah saw uncertainty on the young man’s face. He deserves this. I hope he’s terrified.

  The attorney nodded slightly. “Uh …” Brian faced the judge once more. “I, uh … not guilty, sir. On all counts.”

  “Very well, then.” The judge scribbled something again. “This matter will be handed over to trial. We’ll have a preliminary hearing next month and then, presuming there’s enough evidence, I imagine it will take several months to get the case scheduled on the docket.”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Your honor, I’d like to make a request.”

  The judge nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “The defendant has been convicted of drunk driving several times. He has caused two other accidents while driving drunk, and he was driving with a suspended license at the time of the accident. We are seriously concerned that he will drink and drive again, and that other innocent people will be put in danger as a result.” Matt paced casually back toward his spot at the table. He picked up a piece of paper. “The state would like to file a motion to have Mr. Wesley detained until such time as a trial can be arranged.”

  Finch immediately leaned over and whispered something to Brian, then rose quickly, tugging his tight vest firmly over his stomach. “Your honor, we strongly disagree with the state’s request in this matter. Mr. Wesley is in the process of finding a job. He has a wife and young son who need his income and support. In addition, he is attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. His vehicle has been impounded by the state; therefore, we do not feel he represents even the remotest risk to society.”

  The judge was silent for a moment, and Hannah willed him to
side with Matt. Lock him up! I can’t see Tom or Alicia. Why should he get to see his family?

  Finally the judge looked at Matt. “As you know, Mr. Bronzan, it would be highly unusual to jail a drunk driving defendant until the time of trial. As Mr. Finch pointed out, the state has apprehended the defendant’s vehicle. I don’t believe he will be a danger so long as he stays off the road. I’m afraid I’ll have to dismiss your motion.”

  “Very well, your honor.” Matt nodded and returned to his seat. Hannah leaned forward, ready to shout out if she had to. Why had Matt given up so easily?

  Harold Finch took the cue and snatched a document from the table. “One more thing, your honor. Mr. Wesley has some medical problems relating to the accident. He’s in physical therapy at the present time and will be for several months to come. Should this court find enough evidence at the preliminary to hold Mr. Wesley over for trial, I will be filing a motion for continuance until such time as Mr. Wesley is physically able to aid in his defense.”

  Hannah was on her feet, about to protest, but Carol gently pulled her back down. “Not now, Hannah. This is part of the game. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Doesn’t mean anything? Hannah glared at Finch. How dare he ask for a delay so Brian Wesley could receive physical therapy? Tom and Alicia were dead, and now the animal that killed them needed time for healing before he could face his punishment? Hannah could hardly believe it. She narrowed her eyes, fighting the rage that welled up within her and threatened to strangle her.

  Judge Horowitz raised a wary eyebrow. “Mr. Finch, I am aware of your reputation and your knack for delaying the inevitable. It is my intent to see that this trial makes it into my courtroom as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, your honor, but—”

  “I am not finished, Mr. Finch.” Hannah almost jumped up and applauded at Judge Horowitz’s firm tone. She clasped her hands together, listening intently as the judge went on. “I understand that in this case the defendant was involved in a serious car accident and because of that, I will grant your motion. This time. You will need to present this court with documentation within one week stating exactly how much ‘physical therapy’ Mr. Wesley will need. We will go ahead with a preliminary next month. Then, if the case is handed over for trial, I will review Mr. Wesley’s medical records before scheduling a trial date.”

  “Thank you, your honor.” Hannah wanted to slap the smug look off of Finch’s face as he sat down.

  “Nevertheless—” Hannah’s attention jerked back to Judge Horowitz. “You will not use the judicial system to file motion upon motion in an effort to delay this trial. I understand how delays might benefit your client, but I simply will not have that game played out in my courtroom. Is that understood?”

  Finch smiled agreeably. “Absolutely, your honor.”

  The judge turned to Matt. “I’ll notify you about the preliminary.”

  Matt nodded, and Hannah marveled at how he maintained his composure. He looked unaffected by Finch’s victory. The judge dismissed them, and in a matter of seconds Finch and Brian Wesley disappeared.

  Matt met Hannah and Carol at the railing. “No surprises here.”

  Hannah crossed her arms. No surprises? “Then why’d you ask the judge to hold Brian in jail until trial?”

  The corners of Matt’s mouth raised slightly. “It didn’t hurt to ask.” He thought a moment. “And maybe it set a tone for the seriousness of this case.”

  Carol stretched. “I liked it. Definitely took the defense by surprise.”

  Hannah’s head was swimming. She had no idea there were so many innuendoes and subtle nuances involved in prosecuting someone who was so obviously guilty. “What about the delay?” She studied Matt’s face and found strength from the confidence she saw there.

  “It won’t be the last.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But the judge said he wasn’t playing that game.”

  “The judge wants Finch to think that. Truth is, if Finch can come up with a good reason for a delay, Judge Horowitz won’t really have a choice.”

  Hannah wanted to scream. “Why?”

  Carol put a hand on her arm, and Hannah found the touch comforting. “If the judge refuses a continuance, he gives the defense grounds for appeal.”

  “In other words if we earn a conviction,” Matt added, “Finch can come back later and say his client didn’t have a fair trial. He was too rushed to defend his client fairly.”

  Suddenly Hannah understood and her temper flared again. “That isn’t fair.”

  “We’re trying to change that, but we have to play by the rules.”

  Hannah nodded.

  “Listen—” Carol turned toward her—“You’re probably drained. Let’s go grab some lunch.” She looked at Matt. “Join us?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid I have a full afternoon. But please—” he directed his attention to Hannah once more—“call me anytime if you have questions or concerns.”

  Hannah would have done anything to help this man win the case against Brian Wesley. “I want him locked up, Mr. Bronzan.”

  Matt nodded. “We all do.” He looked from Hannah to Carol, then back again. “I’ll contact you when I have a preliminary date. And certainly if I have any information about the trial.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah fiddled with the photo button once more, and Matt leaned closer.

  “Your husband and daughter?”

  Carol stood by respectfully as Hannah nodded. “Tom and Alicia … at a family barbecue last summer.”

  Matt’s expression filled with a mixture of compassion and frustration, and Hannah warmed to him even more. He seemed to understand all she’d lost …

  He looked up at her and sighed. “A man like Brian Wesley should never have had the chance to get behind the wheel.”

  Hannah suddenly had to fight the urge to break down and give way to the tears she’d held off all day. Matt Bronzan was indeed her ally, her friend. He would see this case through and win a conviction. She was sure about it. “I know you’ll do everything you can.”

  He moved to gather his documents. “You have my word.”

  Hannah watched him leave through the same door she’d seen Finch and Brian exit earlier. Then she turned her attention toward Carol. “Lunch sounds great. I want to get involved as soon as possible.” She hesitated, and when she spoke again it was with fierce determination. “I need to get involved.”

  She and Carol left the courtroom, and Hannah felt herself finding purpose as they talked about the basic structure of the MADD organization, how victim impact panels worked, and what would be the best uses of Hannah’s time.

  Much later that afternoon Hannah finally drove home and pulled into the driveway.

  She turned off the ignition, leaned back in the seat, and gazed at the house. Would she ever be able to do this, come home and walk through the door without being haunted by all she’d lost.

  All Jenny had lost.

  She felt the heat of shame filling her face. Jenny. Hannah blinked back sudden tears as she realized this was the first time since early that morning she’d even remembered her youngest daughter.

  Fourteen

  This is why I weep and my eyes overflow with tears.

  LAMENTATIONS 1:16A

  Carol Cummins had been a member of MADD for nearly ten years. Like others in the organization, her involvement wasn’t something she had planned. Rather, she wound up an activist after her husband, Ken, was killed at the hands of a drunk driver.

  The man who hit her husband had faced no trial. Instead there was a plea bargain, a backstreet handshake of a deal that resulted in the defendant serving three days in jail and paying a nominal fine. Ken had carried no life insurance, except what was provided by his work, so Carol was left with two fatherless babies and piles of unpaid bills.

  Carol and Ken were believers, and the church they attended came through on the bills. Still, there remained a sense of injustice and an anger that no brother or sister in Christ
could ease. Frustrated and stricken with grief, Carol turned to Mothers Against Drunk Drivers.

  At first, she’d had a vague understanding of the group’s purpose. Started by a mother whose daughter had been killed by a drunk driver, MADD’s goal was threefold: Educate the public about the dangers of drunk driving, reduce the number of drunk driving accidents that occurred each year, and increase the penalties for those convicted of the crime.

  Carol immersed herself in the workings of the organization, passing out literature at schools, organizing press conferences, attending trials of numerous drunk drivers, and gathering signatures to help get tougher laws in California. Her mother lived nearby, so she watched Carol’s young children, allowing her to devote her efforts to MADD. She worked tirelessly for more than a year.

  Then the breakdown occurred.

  She had been speaking at a high school, relating the details of Ken’s death and informing the students how just one drink could impair a person’s ability to drive.

  “Whatever you do,” she concluded that morning, “never, ever get into a car with someone who’s been drinking.”

  From the back of the auditorium, a boy stood up and pointed proudly at himself. “That counts me out!” He grinned and looked around for approval. A handful of teens sitting near him giggled, and there was a moment of uncomfortable whispering among the crowd.

  “You—” Carol spoke clearly into the microphone, looking at the boy through eyes filled with fury—“You are no better … than the animal who killed my husband.”

  The giggling stopped abruptly, and the boy slithered lower among his group of friends. Then, aware she had somehow crossed a line, Carol excused herself, gathered her notes and posters and photographs, and left the auditorium.

  She drove aimlessly, crying and pounding her fist on the steering wheel. She had made peace with Ken’s absence. She had found comfort in her relationship with the Lord. So why was she falling apart? Slowly the truth had dawned …

  She had never forgiven the man who killed Ken.