by Lara Bazelon
Now she’s facing him again, she sees that Dars has swiveled slightly in his chair. He’s still staring at her, breathing heavily through his nose. They remain like that for a full minute.
“Just say the three magic words, Dars. ‘I recuse myself.’” She drops her voice to a breathy whisper. “I recuse myself. So simple. Just say the words and then presto!” She snaps her fingers. “Next week, there’ll be some other poor defendant lined up for you to fuck over.”
Then Dars starts to smile his awful smile. And then comes the heh-heh-heh, a low thrum from the back of his throat, and now there is a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Thank you for the show.” Dars’s smile widens to show his teeth. “I thoroughly enjoyed it. Your little tale, well, that was less compelling.” He stops smiling. “Now get dressed and get out. I’ll see you, as they say, in court.”
2005
Monday, December 26, 2005
3:47 a.m.
Willowick, Ohio
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
wtf travis, i’m having your baby. rite back.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
4:05 p.m.
Ramstein Air Base
Ramstein-Miesenbach, Germany
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Jaxx,
of course im happy its a beautiful thing if we made a baby together. don’t get mad but how do u know its not lance’s anyway? u wuz with him 2.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
4:11 p.m.
Willowick, Ohio
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
cuz i used protection w/ lance and not w/ u. want a paternity test? Cuz I went all monica on you and kept sum jizz u left on my sheets. gotchu coming and going no pun intended!
ur pissing me off travis. yeah, and I made a new FB friend today you’ll never guess who.
happy new year motherfucker
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
4:19 p.m.
Ramstein Air Base
Ramstein-Miesenbach, Germany
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
things here is complexxx. i will work it out, but u got to have faith and not go all crazy on me. u telling is not the way. knock off that FB shit with her.
2007
Friday, February 2, 2007
11:00 a.m.
Office of Dr. Tabitha Cartwright
Beverly Hills, California
“Thank you,” Will says, as he takes his place beside Abby on the couch. “We appreciate your taking the time, Dr. Cartwright.” Will and Abby are here about Luz, of course, but sitting on a shrink’s couch with the shrink herself staring them down, it is hard not to feel as if he and Abby are the ones under evaluation: a mismatched couple mired in mutual misery.
Tabitha Cartwright is a forensic psychologist. After her PhD is yet another jumble of letters, the piled degrees indicating a vast store of knowledge about human behavior derived from decades of rigorous training. She is small and impossibly slender, perched on the edge of her armchair with her head cocked, gray hair in a short, cap-like cut, round tawny owl eyes unblinking. Not an ounce of meat on those bones; Will imagines that picking her up would entail no more effort than lifting a child. First Luz, then Abby, and now the doctor. Will feels surrounded by petite women with outsize demands on his time and mental energy. He longs suddenly for Meredith—her just-right height and weight, her easily satisfied needs: take out the garbage, pick up his socks, sit beside her on the coach to watch the Bachelorette Season Whatever.
One thing is for sure, he and Meredith would never be sitting beside each other on a therapist’s coach. Misery beyond anything they’ve ever contemplated must come through Cartwright’s door on a near constant basis. Perhaps to offset this reality, the doctor’s office is big and airy, with a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that look west, toward the UCLA campus and the Santa Monica mountains. The decor is tasteful, decidedly therapist-neutral. The paintings on the wall are modern but in no way disquieting, mostly neutral colors thickly applied in broad swaths. The furniture, too, is modern, but comfortable, the beige couch they are sitting on adorned with two small patterned decorative pillows at each end. Kleenex boxes have been placed discreetly on small glass tables on either side.
Dr. Cartwright says, “I thought it was best to discuss the evaluation of Mrs. Rivera Hollis in person, and then you can let me know if you want me to memorialize it.”
Will and Abby exchange a glance, then nod their heads at the same time. They all know the game here. Any written report may have to be turned over to the government even if they decide not to use it, so best not to have one in the first place unless they are sure.
A favorable written report will carry great weight. Dr. Cartwright’s curriculum vitae—her words—had made Will’s eyes glaze over. Scholarly papers and published studies about the many experiments she had conducted over four decades, gathering data so granular and scrupulously validated as to make her conclusions seem unassailable. One of the foremost experts on battered women’s syndrome in California. That reputation had buttressed and finally won Abby’s argument to Paul that she was worth the money: $2,000 just to conduct the initial evaluation of Luz, which is what they are here to discuss, another $4,000 for her written report, and $350 an hour for her testimony. All of those fees at a highly discounted rate, as Dr. Cartwright had reminded them more than once.
Dr. Cartwright picks up a notebook from the side table at her left and puts on her reading glasses, which are hanging from a thin chain around her neck. “You asked me to interview and evaluate Mrs. Rivera Hollis in order to form an opinion as to whether she was suffering from battered woman’s syndrome such that it affected her state of mind when she killed her husband, Travis Hollis. In addition to a two-hour clinical interview, I also administered a number of psychological tests, including the MMPI-2, the MCMI-III, the Rorschach Psycho-diagnostic Inventory, and the Structured Interview of Reported Symptoms. Additionally, I used the Spousal Assault Violent Acts Scale to determine the severity of the abuse Mrs. Rivera Hollis reported experiencing during the marriage.”
Will nods again, trying to look interested. Come on, lady.
But instead of continuing, Dr. Cartwright pauses for a moment. “I should start by saying that your client was reticent to an unusual degree. Bordering at times on uncooperative.”
Even though he knows it’s inappropriate, Will feels a smile spreading across his face. He is heartened, almost happy, to learn that Luz is no different with a renowned psychologist than she is with him. “Yes,” he says eagerly, “yes, she is. I—” he looks at Abby “—I mean, we have been trying to get her to talk to us for weeks now and it’s just been—” he looks at Abby, hoping for confirmation “—well, difficult.”
Abby gives him a dirty look, like he’s talking out of school, and Will stops abruptly.
“We started with the basics, questions about her family and growing up,” Dr. Cartwright continues, filling the awkward pause. “That seemed to help her open up a bit. As did my asking her pointed, direct questions. Even then, she tended to give short answers and never elaborated on anything I asked her.”
“Why should she?” Abby says. “Talk to any of us, I mean? To her we are a bunch of white people in positions of authority who think we know better.”
Dr. Cartwright nods. “I think it is fair to say that she hasn’t had great experiences with, as you say, the patriarchy.”
Will considers pointing out that Abby had said no such thing: she was talking about race, not gender. But Abby is nodding her head in agreement. “There is so much mistrust,” she says to Dr. Cartwright, “and rightly so.”
Dr. Cartwright returns to her notebook. “Mrs. Rivera
Hollis told me that she is an only child, brought up by her grandmother, Maria Elena Rivera, with whom she currently resides. The family is originally from a rural part of Mexico called Guerrero. Maria Elena and her husband, Felipe, now deceased, came to southern California to work in the strawberry fields sometime in the late 1960s. They were granted amnesty through a bill signed by President Reagan in 1986.
“Mrs. Rivera Hollis’s own parents never married. Her father, a construction worker, left the household shortly after she was born. Mrs. Rivera Hollis has not seen him since that time; apparently, he resides in Modesto, with what she calls his ‘new family.’ After her father left, Mrs. Rivera Hollis’s mother, Marisela, became severely depressed. They moved in with Maria Elena when Mrs. Rivera Hollis was two; when she was six, Marisela committed suicide.”
Abby and Will exchange glances. Luz had told them none of this.
Dr. Crawford turns a page of her notebook. “Mrs. Rivera Hollis told me, ‘I was angry with my mother because she left me. When you have a child, you make a promise to raise that child. My mother broke that promise. I would never do to Cristina what my mother did to me. Because if I did, my daughter would always know that she wasn’t enough to make me want to live.’”
Dr. Cartwright peers at them over her reading glasses. “I can’t emphasize enough the importance not only of the suicide, but the fact that Mrs. Rivera Hollis was abandoned by both of her parents. These are a child’s primary attachment relationships, the template for every other relationship the child will have. The absence—the willed, deliberate absence—of both mother and father has been shown to result in a lifelong distrust of other people. Abandoned children fear forming intimate relationships because they disbelieve in the willingness and ability of other people to stick around, especially when life circumstances become difficult.”
Will tries and fails to think of how any of this information plays into whether Luz was a battered woman. The Luz that Dr. Cartwright is describing just sounds angry, justifiably so, but still. Anger is not good for them. He cracks his knuckles and Abby shoots him another look.
“Mrs. Rivera Hollis describes her relationship with Maria Elena as ‘pretty good,’ but there was a fair amount of friction, particularly over Mrs. Rivera Hollis’s mediocre grades and the amount of time she spent talking to schoolmates—generally boys—on the telephone. Mrs. Rivera Hollis says that her grandmother made a number of demands, including that she do much of the cooking and cleaning around the house, and that she finally told her, ‘I am not your maid.’ She left high school at seventeen and moved to Barstow, where she worked as a waitress at a bar near the Fort Irwin military base. She lied about her age and got a fake ID.”
As if reading Will’s thoughts, Dr. Cartwright says, “I doubt it was very convincing, but it also doesn’t sound as if this particular establishment cared much. They wanted pretty girls who could sell drinks.”
Men have told me my whole life that I’m beautiful. Will is reminded of that conversation and his discomfort. Then he thinks about what Abby and Dr. Cartwright have just said. Who was he to judge her?
“That’s where Luz met Travis,” Abby says, “in 2004, after he came back from his deployment to Iraq?”
Dr. Cartwright nods. “He was her first real boyfriend. There were plenty of boys interested in her before, but those relationships never lasted long. She liked the attention, describing a particular time when she was out with a boy and pointed to a pair of turquoise-and-silver earrings that she wanted. They were expensive, but the next time she saw him, he gave them to her as a present. Mrs. Rivera Hollis describes that episode as ‘like a test, to see if he liked me as much as he said he did, and he passed the test.’ Eventually, though, she would want something the boy couldn’t give her, and she would move on.
“Mrs. Rivera Hollis told me, ‘I get bored. It’s hard to keep my attention, and anyway, I don’t trust people much. I don’t trust people at all, actually. People have let me down my whole life and it’s like, why would I want to keep setting myself up for that? At least, that was my mindset before I met Travis.’”
Will leans forward in anticipation of what must be coming next. “Were any of these boys abusive toward her? Even verbally?”
Dr. Cartwright shakes her head. “There is no history or pattern of abuse in these prior relationships, if that’s what you would call them. I’m not sure she would. They were sexual relationships, of course, but Mrs. Rivera Hollis does not equate sex with closeness.”
Will tries not to look insulted on Luz’s behalf. Of course she sought sex for closeness. The girl had been frigging abandoned as a child. In the face of this new, tragic information, he is putting aside his own doubts and the fact that there is something about Luz—the abrupt shifts to coldness and vacancy, the steadfast refusal to answer crucial questions—he finds deeply unsettling. “Okay, but there’s the jealousy, the need by some of these guys to assert control over her. A pattern, right?” He can hear the twitch in his voice, feel his irritation at their expert wandering far afield.
Dr. Cartwright gives him a thin smile, possibly the best she can do in any situation. “Mrs. Rivera Hollis has no patience for jealousy. When she started working at the bar in Barstow, some of the guys she was casually dating did get angry over the way she interacted with the male customers.” Cartwright ran her index finger down the page. “I asked her about that specifically, and she said, ‘I told them to fuck off, get over yourself. It’s my job to flirt and play nice. That’s how I get my tips.’”
“But there was abuse, with Travis, over being jealous. He was abusive toward her, there’s no doubt about that.” Will hears himself getting louder; beside him, Abby clears her throat. “He had come back from that tour in Iraq, having been in combat, was having issues with it. We have his medical records: fights on the base, excessive drinking.”
“As do I,” Dr. Cartwright intones coldly, but Will isn’t finished.
“Wouldn’t he take his—” he reaches for a therapy-sounding word “—trauma out on her?”
Dr. Cartwright looks at him like he’s a kindergartner who has interrupted story hour to make a wrong guess about the ending. “The relationship was a tumultuous one, but it was not violent in the beginning. Once he returned to Fort Irwin from his deployment, Sergeant Hollis was a regular presence at the bar and a big drinker. He would stay late and talk to her, sometimes about his problems with his girlfriend back home in Ohio.”
“Jackie Stedman,” Will says.
“Yes. A long-distance relationship that had started back when Travis and Jackie were both in high school. They were having difficulties. Ms. Stedman wanted to get married and move across the country to California. Sergeant Hollis was feeling pressured by her and starting to have doubts.”
Will shifts uncomfortably, suddenly reminded of a similar feeling of pressure from Meredith, and the seeding of his own doubts. Resolved in her favor, of course.
Dr. Cartwright was reading from her notebook again. “Mrs. Rivera Hollis said she enjoyed Sergeant Hollis’s company. She told me, ‘I was surprised when I didn’t get sick of him. Maybe it was because he was just talking about his feelings and not asking for anything. And I felt like I could talk to him about some stuff, too. With Travis, it felt okay.’
“Eventually, Sergeant Hollis broke it off with Ms. Stedman and started dating Mrs. Rivera Hollis. She describes the first few months to me as, ‘good, he was sweet and romantic, but dealing with Jackie sucked because she was always trying to stir up drama.’”
Dr. Cartwright turns another page in her notebook. “I asked Mrs. Rivera Hollis if she felt threatened by Jackie and she laughed. ‘Why would I feel threatened by her? From Day One, it was obvious that Travis wanted to be with me, not her.’”
Will looks at Abby, as if to say, your turn. But Abby isn’t looking at him, and she isn’t looking at Dr. Cartwright, either. She’s staring fixedly out the large plate glas
s windows and fiddling with the locket on her necklace. The expression on her face, Will has come to learn, means she’s tuning everyone else out while she works through the problem on her own.
“When did Travis propose?” Will prompts.
“In March of 2005, shortly after he received his orders that he would be deployed to Germany, in preparation for a possible second tour in Iraq. They were married in April. The Hollis family flew out. Mrs. Rivera Hollis says she felt his parents, particularly Mrs. Hollis, were not happy about the marriage, both because she was of Mexican origin and because they had a close relationship with Ms. Stedman and had always assumed that Travis would marry her.”
Again, Will shifts uncomfortably, remembering his mother’s pleased expression and his father’s hearty slap on the back when he had made precisely the opposite decision. Will and Meredith had told them after church. They were sitting in the dining room, just finishing up his mother’s traditional Sunday lunch: pork roast, mashed potatoes, green peas, and plenty of sweet tea. Will had stood up to make the announcement, Meredith shyly joining him at his insistence. He hadn’t had the money to buy a ring at that point, had had to ask his father to lend him $900 while he paid off the rest in installments.
Dr. Cartwright is reading from her notes again. “Mrs. Rivera Hollis and Sergeant Hollis arrived in Germany in May 2005. It was a difficult adjustment. Mrs. Rivera Hollis reports feeling isolated. The other wives, she said, were unfriendly toward her. Many of them had young children. She was bored. When Sergeant Hollis was working nights patrolling the base, she would go out and have a few drinks, shoot pool with some of the enlisted guys, go out dancing. Sergeant Hollis didn’t like that, he got jealous, she said. They began fighting, yelling, name-calling, slamming doors, things like that.”
