“Go on.”
“Well, after everyone was pretty inebriated, the cocaine came out. I couldn’t believe I was watching them all snorting this stuff like it was going out of style. It turned into a frenzy. They were dancing in the aisles.”
“What were you doing all this time?”
“It was impossible to sleep, and I couldn’t beat ’em, so I joined ’em.”
“You indulged?”
“Not in cocaine, but the director refused to take no for an answer with the vodka. He poured me a drink and I nursed it the whole way. And that’s about the extent of it, Seymour.”
“How the hell did these people manage to work after that?”
“They couldn’t. It was a total disaster. We got off the plane and went directly to the location. When the sun came up, the heat really intensified their hangovers. The camera never rolled; it was a wasted day. We had to hustle like hell the following day to catch up. There were still a few shots we never got to.”
Seymour looked at his watch. “We’d better get back.”
“Miss Durante, do you take drugs?” Anton asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“Have you ever taken drugs?”
“Yes.”
“And when was the last time you took drugs?” he prodded.
“I can’t give you an exact date, but it was before Dustin was born, and he’s eight now.”
“You never took drugs with Jay Willard?”
“Absolutely not! I don’t touch drugs,” I answered.
“Miss Durante, do you work with helicopters?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel this is dangerous?”
“No.”
“So, you don’t think what you do for a living is dangerous?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Was Dar Robinson one of your drivers?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Was? Would you like to tell the court what happened to Mr. Robinson?”
“I object! It’s irrelevant,” Seymour interrupted.
“Your Honor, I’m trying to establish that Miss Durante has no regard for her own life, so how could she care for a child when—”
“That’s ridiculous!” shouted Seymour.
“Overruled. Answer the question,” the judge instructed.
“Repeat the question?” I said, stalling for time, trying to figure out where he was going to take this.
“You said Dar Robinson was one of your drivers. Does that mean he is dead?”
“Yes, Dar is dead.”
“How did he die?”
“He died in a motorcycle accident.”
“Was he working when he died?”
“Yes, he was.”
“What was he working on?”
“A movie called Million Dollar Mystery.”
“Will you explain the circumstances surrounding his death?”
“Well, I wasn’t there, but Pat told me—”
“Who is Pat?”
“Pat McGroarty, another one of my drivers who was working on the job with Dar.”
“Okay, what did Mr. McGroarty tell you?”
“He said that they had already done the shot and they were—”
“What do you mean? What was the shot?”
“It was a chase scene.”
“Is that driving at fast speeds?”
“Not necessarily. They can undercrank the camera to make it look like they’re driving faster than they actually are.”
“Was that the case here?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
“Okay, continue.”
“They had already passed the camera, from what I understand. They were slowing down to return to their number one position to shoot another take. For some reason, Dar must have hit the soft shoulder and lost control of the bike. No one knows for sure, since he was the last in line. No one actually saw what happened. He went over the embankment and was impaled on a sage-brush limb.”
“Was there an ambulance on the set?”
“There was earlier, but they had released it.”
“Why was it released?”
“Because they had done a stunt earlier in the day and didn’t feel it was needed for the remaining shots. Dar didn’t die doing a stunt. It was a simple shot.”
“Do you often have ambulances on the set?”
“Yes, at times.”
“Why would they have an ambulance there if you don’t think what you do for a living is dangerous?”
“It’s part of our contract; it’s mandatory.”
“Well, Mr. Robinson died doing a simple shot. I find it hard to believe doing something so simple could cost you your life. Do you care about your life, Miss Durante?”
“Yes.”
“Can you explain why you have chosen your occupation?”
“No, it’s just what I do.”
“Was your company contracted by a Japanese oil company to shoot a commercial?”
“We’ve worked for several Japanese companies. Which one are you referring to?”
“The one where the A-4 jet crashed less than a quarter of a mile from the crew and the picture vehicle.”
“Yes.”
“Was the pilot killed on that job?”
“Yes.”
“No more questions.”
I was completely drained by the end of the first week. The unwarranted character assassination and my inability to defend it were unbearable. Every detail was distorted, leaving me exasperated. Most frustrating of all were the rules that had to be adhered to. I couldn’t bring up Richard’s fascination with hookers or his problems with drugs. No, that was five years ago. The court was interested only in today.
What I could tell about the present was considered hearsay. I knew he was still doing drugs; I had lived with it long enough to know the signs. But that didn’t count—I had to prove it. I did not keep up with his life or his friends in order to be able to shed any light on his present shenanigans. Five years before, I would have had no problem proving it. Only now did I regret not going to court when we were divorced.
“Miss Durante, did you leave your son when he was a few months old and run off to New Zealand?”
“I object!” Seymour blurted.
“Sustained. Rephrase the question, Counsel.”
“Did you leave Dustin and go to work in New Zealand when he was only a few months old?”
“Yes, but he was well cared-for.”
“Oh? And who took care of him while you were gone for two weeks?”
“Richard and our housekeeper, Marina.”
“Can you tell me then, Miss Durante, why you think Richard is such an unfit father, when you can go off for two weeks and leave Dustin in his care? Didn’t you allege he was heavily into drugs at that time?”
“Marina was quite capable. I didn’t have to worry with her.”
“Your Honor, I’d like to call the next witness,” Anton announced.
The pain in my heart was agonizing as Toni walked into the courtroom. She avoided making eye contact with me as she took the stand. Picking at her lips—a nervous habit she had acquired when she was younger—she waited for Anton to begin.
God! Richard is so unbelievably shallow. Winning is all that counts! Can’t the judge see through this?
Between Richard’s and Jay’s contemptuous attitudes toward me, Toni was being sadly manipulated. Jay sat in the back of the courtroom, giving her moral support. He was on the list to testify, too. Seymour brought this fact to the judge’s attention, and Jay was asked to leave. Toni stiffened and shifted in her seat. Her eyes flickered all over the courtroom, not knowing where to focus.
I was faced with a choice: Which of my children did I save? No mother should ever be in that position. Seymour could tear her apart on the stand, if he were to do his job, but how could I let that happen? I flashed back to my day on the stand after I had been raped. They had tried to turn it all around and make me look at fault—not so much different fro
m what was happening now. I could not let that happen to Toni. Too much damage had already been done to her psyche. Whatever it was she was coerced to say would just have to be. All I could do was hope that the damage could be repaired. The pain of this moment was too much for me to bear. I hid out in my shadow. It was all happening to Georgia Black, not to me. I was safe now.
“Toni, how long has Richard been your legal father?” asked Anton.
“Since I was nine or ten, I guess.”
“How old are you now, Toni?”
“I’ll be eighteen in October.”
“Has Richard been a good father to you?”
“Yes.”
“Is he a good father to Dustin?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever seen Richard use drugs?”
She looked over at Richard. “No.”
“That’s a lie, Seymour,” I whispered to him. “She used to steal cocaine from his drawer. That’s how she got hooked to begin with! I can’t believe she’s doing this.”
Toni still had not looked in my direction. I glanced at Richard and caught him nodding at her in encouragement.
“How old is your boyfriend, Jay?” Anton continued.
“Twenty-seven.”
“Isn’t it true that Jay was also your mother’s boyfriend at one time?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know if Jay ever spent the night at your mother’s home when Dustin was present?”
“Objection. That’s hearsay,” Seymour interrupted.
“Sustained,” replied the judge.
“Toni, is it true that your mother’s second—or was it the first husband? How many times has your mother been married?”
“Objection. That’s been asked and answered.”
“Sustained.”
“Did your stepfather, your mother’s second husband, molest you, Toni?”
“Yes . . . he did.”
Tears began to well in her eyes. As soon as I began to react, Georgia Black took charge, and I was quickly under control.
“How old were you when that took place?”
“Fourteen.”
“Was your mother married to Richard then?”
“Well, it was toward the end. They were still living together . . . but I don’t know if you would call it a marriage.”
“How did you see your stepfather Joe? Did your mother drive you there?”
“She used to send me down there on the train.”
“Did Richard know about your visits with your stepfather?”
“No, Richard didn’t want me seeing Joe.”
“Do you think Richard was trying to protect you by not letting you go to San Diego?”
She paused and looked at the ceiling. Shrugging, she answered, “I don’t know.”
“Why do you think your mother would send you there against Richard’s wishes?”
“She said Joe was all alone since his mother died . . . and I guess she felt sorry for him.”
“Did you ever tell her you didn’t want to go?”
“Yes.”
“And she sent you anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel as if your mother didn’t protect you, Toni?”
“Yes,” she answered, sobbing.
“That’s all the questions I have. Your witness,” Anton said, directing his attention to Seymour.
Seymour rose and slowly approached the witness stand, deep in thought. He reminded me of a big teddy bear. He was about seventy years old, I’d guess, and was short and stocky with a head of thick white hair. He appeared to be a gentle old soul, but I knew a ferocious lion lay under that exterior.
“Hello, Toni. I’m Mr. Winston. I understand how hard this is for you,” he said sympathetically. “Would you like a glass of water?” he asked, handing her a tissue.
“Okay,” she answered, wiping her tear-streaked face.
“Toni, I’m going to have to ask you some questions that may be difficult for you, but I’ll try to make it as easy as I can.” Seymour hesitated for a moment. “When you were going to San Diego to visit your stepfather Joe, you were fourteen, you said?”
“Yes.”
“How often did you visit Joe?”
“Once every couple of months. Sometimes a little more, sometimes less.”
“When you told your mother you didn’t want to go there, did you tell her why?”
“No.”
“Why not? You weren’t a child. You knew right from wrong, didn’t you?” Seymour asked with a gentle tone.
“I guess so,” Toni answered, looking pained.
“And weren’t there times you did want to go?”
“I NEVER WANTED TO SUCK HIS COCK!” she shouted, surprising even herself with her outburst.
A sudden stillness filled the courtroom. The shock of hearing Toni’s pain and anger shot through my heart like a thousand arrows. The agony she had buried so deeply inside made me want to run to her. I wanted to put my arms around her and comfort her as I had when she was little. Her pain was my pain. But we were in a courtroom, not a living room.
When the judge studied my face shortly after, he saw only Georgia Black, who protected and concealed my emotions. That was her job. My emotional side needed to surface now to save my son, but Georgia Black had held the reins for too long, and I no longer knew how to act on my own.
“Seymour, get her off the stand,” I pleaded. “She’s much too fragile to take this.”
“We have to counter this somehow. It’s not looking good.”
“It is what it is. I can’t lose them both.”
Seymour pondered my request for a moment. With a defeated demeanor, he approached the witness stand. “No more questions, Toni. You can step down.”
Toni looked briefly in my direction as she rose from the witness stand. She was as twisted inside as I was. My emotions were a jumble of pain, anger, and hate. Pain for Toni. Anger for Richard. Hate for Joe.
Joe had done a hell of a job destroying my life, even long after he was out of it. He had messed up my head, and now the evil cycle would continue with Toni. And, finally, I might even lose my son.
After lunch, the defense had yet another trick up its sleeve. They rolled out a video machine and monitor and began to set it up. Seymour looked at me with wonder.
“What do you think they’re going to show?”
“I have no idea, Seymour.”
“If you can think of anything you haven’t told me, Georgia, now is the time.”
Oh, my God, did the FBI have me on tape? Nah, they didn’t go away uttering any threats. What could it be?
“There’s nothing I haven’t told you. I can’t imagine what this is all about.”
When the videotape was played, a gasp was heard in the courtroom. It came from me. On the screen was a scene from the New Zealand party. All eyes were glued to the television set as the camera focused in on a close-up of my face. There I was, bigger than life, spooning cocaine into my nostrils. I had totally forgotten about that incident. Every eye in the courtroom had converged on me. Silence.
And when was the last time you took drugs?
I can’t give you an exact date, but it was before Dustin was born, and he’s eight now.
Did you leave Dustin and go to work in New Zealand when he was just a few months old?
Richard’s attorney had executed his job flawlessly. I guess you get what you pay for. Only the best for Richard Adray.
The judge looked into my eyes and did what judges are paid to do—he judged me. Seymour’s face was a sympathetic mix of disappointment and defeat. I wasn’t trying to hide it; I had completely forgotten about it. But what could I say in my defense now? Nothing. Who would believe me? No one. My credibility was destroyed. The judge’s expression said it all: If she lied about this, then she probably lied about everything.
Richard leaned back in his chair, grinning triumphantly at me. His attorney, a sickening smirk on his face, stood next to the television with his arms folded. I don’
t really know what I did; Black handled it.
We all lost a chunk of our lives in the courtroom that day. Richard may have thought he walked out a winner, but life will prove him wrong. When the emotional well-being of children is involved, there are never any winners—only losers.
Chapter Nineteen
Four long years passed without any contact with my daughter, and I saw my son only every other weekend. My heart never ceased to ache for Toni when I thought about her outburst in the courtroom, but it didn’t change the fact that she had betrayed me on the stand. Her lies had shielded Richard and contributed to the loss of my son. Toni needed to take responsibility for her actions, despite what she had suffered. My door was open to her, but not while Jay was still a part of her life. It killed me, but not once did I attempt to call her during those four years.
I did a lot of soul-searching during that time. Maybe I wasn’t such a good mother. Toni had always been a quiet child, keeping her fears and dreams to herself. Maybe she was hiding out in her own shadow. She ran with me, she hid with me, but we never talked about it. I’d always thought she just kind of knew, but I’d never shared with her my fears and my incredible hurt. I had tried to protect her from all that, so how was she to know what was going on? All she knew was that I wasn’t there. Why hadn’t I ever looked at it from her perspective before? Of course she harbored resentments—she didn’t understand.
When I’d finally escaped from Joe, I had tried to recapture all I had missed out on. I always felt as though I were going to die before I had a chance to live. I felt so cheated. Why didn’t I think about how my daughter had been cheated? I was so wrapped up in my own pain, I didn’t think about hers. Any good mother would have. Maybe I put too much blame on Joe for Toni’s drug problem. It was time I took some responsibility for the shambles I had made of my own life.
The sad thing was, God had given me a second chance: He had given me Dustin. I was thirty years old when he was born, ready to be a mother, but I never fully had the chance before he was stolen from me. Was this one of God’s lessons? Was this my punishment for Toni’s lost childhood?
The Company She Keeps Page 46
