Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  She straightened her neck and met his eyes. No longer did tears flow—her eyes sparked with anger. “Yes, Tony, I’m so thankful. Would you like me to show you how thankful I am?” Her insincerity and sudden animosity came through loud and clear.

  Tony stood, straightened his jacket. “Utilize the time you have to think this over. Don’t make another poor impulsive decision. This is your best offer.” He knocked on the door. “Goodbye, Claire.”

  She didn’t respond. The attorneys re-entered the room. Claire had new resolve. If he planned to leave her, she was going to start talking.

  Mr. Evergreen spoke first, “Mr. Task, if your client plans to plead insanity, the prosecution will need psychological evaluations.”

  “Mr. Evergreen, I do not plan to plead insanity.” Everyone turned to Claire; the last five days she’d hardly spoken. She continued in a determined tone—one none of them had heard before. “I can assure you, I’m not the person that’s insane, although I have cause. I am innocent. Now, if you’ll excuse me again, I need to speak to my counsel.”

  She had entered this preexamination willing to sit passively and wait for Tony to rescue her. Turning to Jane, the only counsel willing to confront her husband, she said, “Ms. Allyson, if we could postpone this preexamination, I believe I have some evidence to share with you and Mr. Task.”

  Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life. Define yourself

  —Harvey Fierstein

  Chapter Forty-Nine

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  They only had three days to prepare for the new preexamination. Claire spent hours with her attorneys uncompartmentalizing everything. She recounted everything she could remember from the last twenty-two months. Tony wouldn’t approve—nonetheless, she was brutally honest, recounting details she’d tried to suppress. She explained the initial contact and contract. She said she suspected he’d used the date rape drug Rohypnol to get her to Iowa, because she had no memory of traveling from Atlanta. This recount could have been demoralizing, but somehow it proved therapeutic—a catharsis.

  Claire described the respected, adored businessman, Anthony Rawlings, as a cruel, vindictive, masochistic, and controlling human being. She did leave their home in a hurry. Justifiably, she did it to get a break from him—his rules, restrictions, and consequences. If he knew she’d left the property without his permission, she would’ve been punished. She explained his punishments ranged from verbal—to mental—to physical—abuse. On one occasion, approximately six months after she arrived on his estate, he nearly killed her. She told about the isolation. She also told about the sexual exploits, video recording, controlling nature, domineering manipulation, and constant mental, and—on again—off again—physical abuse.

  At times, her attorneys would stop taking notes and just listen. This was much bigger than anything they expected. Together, Paul and Jane worked to build a case—not of a woman trying to gain financially from the death of her wealthy husband, but of an abused woman—wanting only to flee the situation.

  Paul believed Claire had been living in hell, but there were points and events she would need to explain. She stated she was kidnapped, yet did she ever try to call for help? Didn’t she live in a multimillion dollar mansion? Did she expect people to believe she had no access to telephone, Internet, or anything? Didn’t she marry this man she described as a monster? Didn’t she accept gifts: clothing, money, jewelry, etc.? Didn’t she accompany him on multiple extravagant trips? Didn’t she sit with a reporter from Vanity Fair and give an interview about her wonderful husband and their amazing life together?

  Claire understood how things looked. She knew about appearances, but she knew what she endured. She explained that even after things got better with Tony, there was always the underlying threat of abuse. Things did get better, after the near-death accident. He got better, and she believed she loved him, but always there were rules and reminders of consequences for her actions. Any failure to be perfect could result in punishment. The truth would set her free. Claire Rawlings was ready to tell the entire world the truth.

  Her legal team prepared a preliminary brief. It informed the prosecution of their defense strategy. By no means was it all inclusive; however, it did emphasize the hostile relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings. It highlighted Mr. Rawlings’s aggressive, intimidating, and controlling tendencies. Mrs. Rawlings’ only intention on the day in question was to escape the harsh reality of her life. She didn’t plan—nor did she execute a plan—to cause Mr. Rawlings harm.

  The time for the rescheduled preexamination meeting arrived. Mr. Evergreen and his team, as well as Paul, Jane, and Claire were once again seated around a large table. The only noticeable difference at this meeting was Claire’s brown hair. Indulging Claire’s request, Jane brought her a box of Chestnut hair dye. Claire looked younger. The blonde was striking, stunning, and beautiful—Claire didn’t feel any of those.

  Mr. Evergreen addressed Paul, “How does your client plan to plea?”

  “My client is not guilty and plans to plea as such.”

  “I’d like to ask your client some questions—to let her know what she’ll be facing at trial. Mr. Task, Ms. Allyson, do you have any objections to this plan?”

  Paul began, “Claire, this isn’t a bad idea. This allows us to understand where the prosecution is coming from with their charges. It also lets you experience the questioning portion of the trial. The questions here are not asked under oath. You can refuse to answer, and your answers cannot be used against you in the actual trial.”

  “All right, please ask away.” Claire’s mind was made up. She was innocent, and planned to tell the world the truth of what she had endured. Having Marcus Evergreen, a contemporary of Tony’s, sitting across the table was unnerving. After all, Marcus attended their wedding, Tony wouldn’t approve of her telling him certain things, but she was innocent, and if Tony wasn’t going to help her—the truth would.

  Mr. Evergreen opened his laptop and began his questioning, “First, Mrs. Rawlings, as your attorney informed you this is not under oath and your answers cannot be used against you at trial. You should also be aware my team and I have read Mr. Task’s preliminary brief which discusses the relationship between you and your husband, as well as your allegations to his behavior. I realize Mr. Task and Ms. Allyson plan to use your allegations in your defense. This procedure is a snapshot of how I, and my team, plan to cross examine you. Do you understand?” Claire nodded. “Mrs. Rawlings, please answer all questions verbally.” Claire said that she would.

  “Please state your name.”

  “Claire Rawlings.”

  “How long has that been your name?”

  “Anthony Rawlings and I were married December 18, 2010.”

  “Mrs. Rawlings, I didn’t ask when you were married, but rather how long Claire Rawlings has been your name.” Mr. Evergreen continued with mundane questions regarding dates and times. Then his questions turned to her life before Mr. Rawlings. What did she do for a living? Where did she live? How did she and Anthony Rawlings meet?

  “Why did you move into Mr. Rawlings’s house?”

  “I didn’t move into his house, I was taken to his house,” Claire corrected.

  “Why were you taken to his house?”

  “Mr. Rawlings and I had a business agreement.”

  “What kind of agreement did you have?”

  Claire hesitated. “He hired me to be his personal assistant.”

  “And how much did he pay you to be his personal assistant?”

  “He didn’t actually pay me”—Claire wasn’t sure how to explain this so Mr. Evergreen or a jury would understand.

  “You worked for free? Yes or no?”

  “No, actually he paid off my debts.”

  Mr. Evergreen looked curious. “Your debts? He paid off your debts? Did he pay off your car and maybe a credit card?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you have any
idea the total amount of your debts?”

  Did Claire know? Of course, she knew. Tony mentioned the amount hundreds of times during the beginning of their relationship.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Mrs. Rawlings, please share. What was the amount of debt Mr. Rawlings paid off for you?”

  “He told me it was 215 thousand dollars.”

  “My, 215 thousand dollars to be his personal assistant, was that all? Or were there other benefits?”

  Benefits? Claire didn’t know what he meant.

  He continued, “Did Mr. Rawlings provide you housing, clothing, or food?”

  “Yes, I lived in his house. The staff prepared my food and he had clothes for me.”

  “Now, Mrs. Rawlings, were these old clothes or did he buy you new clothes?”

  “They were new, but I never asked—”

  “Please just answer the question. So the clothes were new. You lived in his mansion, and he paid off 215 thousand dollars—worth of debt. Tell me what you did as Mr. Rawlings’s personal assistant. Did you answer his phone?”

  “No.”

  He continued. “Did you answer his e-mails?”

  “No.”

  “Did you coordinate his schedule?”

  “No.”

  “Did you make him food?”

  “No.”

  “Did you make him drinks?”

  “No.”

  “Mrs. Rawlings, what did you do?”

  Claire felt her face flush. “I was supposed to be available—whenever he wanted me.”

  “Can you please explain yourself?”—Mr. Evergreen leaned into the table—“What do you mean available whenever he wanted you?”

  Claire looked down. “I was supposed to satisfy his sexual wants and needs.”

  “Did you do your job?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” Claire was still looking at the table.

  “Mrs. Rawlings, I asked if you did your job, yes or no?”

  Claire looked the prosecuting attorney in his eyes. “Yes, I did what I was told.”

  “And, if my notes are correct, you and Anthony Rawlings married nine months after you began your job, is that correct?”

  “Yes—we discussed that.”

  “Yes, we did. I’m just trying to understand. At 215 thousand dollars, housing, food, and clothing for a period of nine months, I figure that Mr. Rawlings paid you nearly a thousand dollars a day for sexual pleasure. You must be a great lay!”

  Claire glared at the prosecutor.

  Jane and Paul exploded, “That was unnecessary!”

  Mr. Evergreen apologized and continued with his questioning. He asked questions about Claire’s claim of imprisonment. Then he showed pictures of her with Anthony at various activities: dinners, fund-raisers, and outings.

  Claire thought he had a picture of almost every time she was out of the house during the first six months of her imprisonment. “You don’t understand. I was only allowed out—”

  “Mrs. Rawlings, you’ll have the opportunity to discuss your reasons for exaggerating the truth when your attorney is cross-examining you. This is my opportunity. I’ll ask the questions.” He went on in his condescending tone, asking about supposed physical abuse. Did she have any doctor’s statements? Had she reported the abuse? Had she even told Mr. Rawlings she didn’t like it?

  This again got Jane and Paul out of their seats. Claire felt ill. Her head pounded and her blood sugar felt low. She leaned toward Jane. “Could we break for lunch?”

  While Paul went to get sandwiches, Jane and Claire spoke, privately. Claire had told them all the information before. She had explained how Tony controlled her, she hadn’t been allowed to complain, she couldn’t leave her suite for the longest time, and she was never allowed to leave the property without his permission, even after they were married, but the way Mr. Evergreen twisted it—it seemed like she was some kind of prostitute. He made it seem like she was after Anthony’s money from the beginning.

  Jane reassured Claire that the defense had an opportunity to ask more questions following the prosecution. That would be their time to explain things to the jury. However, even Jane admitted concern about the pictures showing Claire and Anthony out in public. Claire didn’t look like a woman being held against her will. Jane had photos on her laptop sent by Mr. Evergreen during the preexamination. She pulled up a picture of Anthony and Claire at an upscale Manhattan restaurant.

  Claire remembered that night—Tony had completed a big business deal and they had celebrated before dinner. She remembered hating him that night; however, the person in the picture didn’t look like she hated him. The Claire in the picture was exquisitely dressed, beautiful, contented, and attentive—the perfect companion. The realization that she’d learned her lessons too well began to add to her pounding head.

  Feeling more nourished, Mr. Evergreen resumed the questioning, “Mrs. Rawlings, you stated Anthony Rawlings was physically and mentally abusive, yet you decided to marry him. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, can you please tell us who took care of the wedding? And if it was nice?”

  “Tony paid for the wedding, he hired wedding planners, they did everything, and it was beautiful. You should know—you were there.”

  “Do you have any idea of the cost of your wedding?”

  “No.”

  “Well, for your information it came to over 350 thousand dollars. Your dress alone was over 70 thousand dollars.” Claire really had no idea. “And those figures do not include your rings or your honeymoon. Mrs. Rawlings, can you tell us where you went on your honeymoon?”

  “We went to Fiji—to a private island.”

  “The cost of this honeymoon, Mrs. Rawlings, do you know the cost?”

  “No. It was never discussed with me. I didn’t care about the money!” Claire suddenly felt tired.

  “When you were apprehended, you were driving a very expensive car—registered to you—wearing multiple pieces of fine jewelry, and expensive clothes. Do you still claim you didn’t care about money?”

  “I drove that car because I found the keys. The clothes and jewelry were all because Tony made me wear them—I didn’t even choose my own clothes that morning.”

  Mr. Evergreen went back to his laptop. “Now back to your wedding. Did you know that you and Mr. Rawlings didn’t have a prenuptial agreement?”

  “Yes. He told me we didn’t need one—if I ever tried to leave him, there would be unpleasant consequences.”

  “Mrs. Rawlings, I’m asking the questions. Did you know that his legal consul wanted him to have a prenuptial agreement?”

  “Yes, he told me that the decision was solely his.”

  “Did or do you understand—without a prenuptial agreement if you and Mr. Rawlings were to divorce you would have claim to half of his fortune?”

  “I hadn’t given it any thought.”

  “And, I suppose you hadn’t given any thought to the fact that if Mr. Rawlings died, you would have sole claim to his entire fortune.”

  “Honestly, no.”

  He then showed Claire a picture of an apartment house in Atlanta. “Do you recognize this building?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would assume you would. It’s the apartment in which you lived prior to moving into Mr. Rawlings’ mansion. How big was your apartment?”

  Claire hadn’t thought about that apartment in almost two years. “It was a one-bedroom with an eat-in kitchen.”

  “Now, Mrs. Rawlings, do you recognize this residence?” It was an aerial photograph of the estate. It showed the sprawling mansion, the various patios, the pool, the gardens, the long drive, and the massive expenditure of surrounding land.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, it’s the home you and Mr. Rawlings shared. Is that correct?”

  Claire wanted to be done with this. “Yes, it is”

  “Mrs. Rawlings, how big is this house?”

  “I don’t know. Do you mean in square feet?” She
was becoming irritated.

  “All right then. How many bedrooms?” Mr. Evergreen was smiling. Claire thought about it for a minute. “Honestly, I don’t know. Do you want the staffs’ rooms counted too? I don’t know.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You’ve been held captive in this home for nearly two years and you don’t know how many bedrooms are there? Or perhaps you were enjoying the life of luxury too much to worry about such things?” Mr. Evergreen tapped his computer screen. “Well, let’s shift gears. Do you recognize yourself in this photo?”

  Claire nodded.

  “Can you please tell me where you are and what you’re doing?”

  “I’m in Davenport—shopping.”

  “You are shopping, but I thought you didn’t have any money?”

  “Tony gave me a credit card.”

  “Was this before or after you were married?”

  “I believe that this picture was before, but seriously, you don’t—”

  Mr. Evergreen interrupted her. “Mrs. Rawlings, allow me to ask the questions”—he paused—“So, Mr. Rawlings gave you a credit card before you were married. Who paid the bill?”

  “He did.”

  “Who is with you on this shopping trip?”

  “Eric, Tony’s driver was there—in the car.”

  “So, if you were a prisoner, wouldn’t this have been an excellent opportunity to escape? After all, you were all by yourself in Davenport—Mrs. Rawlings, did you try to escape?”

  “No. I was afraid.”

  “Stick to the yes and no answers”—Mr. Evergreen looked at his notes on the screen—“Did you only use your credit card in Davenport?”

  “No.”

  Mr. Evergreen showed some more pictures—Claire on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan—shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue in Chicago. He continued, “Mrs. Rawlings, did you use your credit card on these occasions?”