The Code of the Hills

by Nancy Allen

  Kristy hung her head and didn’t answer. Elsie’s heart twisted; it was a horrific thing, forcing a child to speak aloud in public about her sexual violation. Resolutely, she took a breath and straightened, pushing her reluctance aside. It had to be done; if she could not make Kristy speak the words, the law would not protect the child.

  “Kristy,” Elsie said carefully, “are you saying that he put his penis in you?”

  “Objection—­leading,” said Nixon.

  “Overruled,” said the judge.

  Fabulous, Elsie thought, flashing an appreciative look in Judge Carter’s direction, because her question had in fact been leading. Kristy was silent until Elsie said, “Kristy, you may answer.”

  “Yeah. His penis.”

  “Where did he put it?”

  “You know. Sex. My vagina.”

  “Where did that happen,” Elsie continued.

  “Our house. The front bedroom.”

  We’re almost there, she thought. Just nail down venue, and we’re done. With a nod, she asked, “Where was your house located?”

  “Where it is now. 985 High Street.”

  “Is that in Barton, McCown County, Missouri?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, thank God, she did it. She wanted to collapse in her chair; it had been a nail-­biter, guiding Kristy through the elements of count five.

  She said to the judge, “No further questions, your honor.”

  The judge looked at the defense attorney. “Mr. Nixon?”

  Elsie sat in her chair at the counsel table, but every muscle in her body tightened as she anticipated what Nixon would do to Kristy on cross-­examination. She had seen children massacred on the witness stand by defense attorneys, a hideous thing to watch. The only advocate Kristy had, the sole person who could protect her from the onslaught, was her. She tensed, ready to pounce if Nixon made a misstep.

  Nixon stood and buttoned his jacket. “Kristy,” he said in a neutral voice, “who all saw this act you say happened on Thanksgiving?”

  “Everybody.”

  “Everybody!” he said in disbelief. “Your sisters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who else?”

  Kristy faltered a little as she said, “JoLee. And I think Uncle Al. He might’ve left.”

  Nixon paused a moment for effect, and then he said, “You mean to tell us that your father had sex with you in a house full of ­people and nobody did a thing.”

  “Nope.”

  Elsie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She saw that he was controlling the girl’s responses, but he had not yet asked a question that called for an objection.

  “Your mother didn’t stop him.”

  “No.”

  “Five other ­people in that house and no one tried to save you.”

  Kristy was silent for a long moment. “No,” she said finally.

  Nixon scratched his head. “Why not?”

  The girl stared at him, struggling to put the explanation in words.

  “They couldn’t do nothing.”

  “For God’s sake, why not?” He shook his head, incredulous.

  “They wasn’t supposed to. He’s the boss. We got to do what he says.”

  Elsie kept her face neutral, with an effort. Kristy had hit the nail on the head. How many times had she heard victims explain that they were powerless to protest against the abuse, or confront the man of the house? She’d lost count.

  “Your own mother—­in that house—­didn’t lift a finger to help you.” Nixon’s look and tone conveyed skepticism.

  Kristy shook her head. “She says it’s no good to try. She says it would just make things worse if she’d try to stop him.”

  He paused to digest the answer, made a note on the pad, tossed his pen. Sitting beside his client again, he leaned back in his chair and said, “It’s been a long time since Thanksgiving. Who did you tell about this?”

  “I just told everybody in here.”

  “No, no, I mean before the case, who’d you tell? A special friend?”

  “No.”

  “School nurse?”

  She shook her head.

  Elsie scribbled a note to herself: Nixon was trying to ascertain whether the state would produce outcry evidence at trial. Sadly, she suspected there was none.

  “Teacher at school? Favorite teacher?”

  “No. We wasn’t supposed to tell anybody.”

  A smile flitted across Kris Taney’s face as he sat in his orange jail jumpsuit and watched his daughter.

  The judge appeared to have heard quite enough. “Mr. Nixon?”

  “Your honor?”

  “Have you completed your cross-­examination of this witness?”

  Elsie looked up at the judge with surprise. Judge Carter was trying to cut off the cross-­examination. He was going to bat for her witness. Her stomach unknotted a trifle. Having this particular judge on her side was a novel experience. She prayed it would last.

  “Well?” the judge said to Nixon.

  Nixon paused and reflected. Elsie fancied she could see him debating the merits of further inquiry versus the perils of badgering a child witness in front of the press. He bent toward his client to murmur the obligatory question: Is there anything further that you want me to ask? Taney shrugged.

  Nixon shook his head. “Nothing further.”

  Judge Carter pointed his pen at Elsie. “Redirect?”

  “No, your honor.”

  “Call your next witness.”

  Elsie turned and peered through the glass panels of the courtroom door. Charlene was on the bench outside, waiting her turn to testify. When the girls had arrived at the courthouse that morning, Kristy suffered such a fit of nerves that Elsie feared she would balk and refuse to enter the courtroom. It took forty-­five minutes and the combined efforts of Tina and herself to settle her down, so she’d decided to lead off with Kristy as her first witness.

  And when they arrived at the courtroom and Elsie had instructed Donita and Charlene to wait in the hallway while Kristy testified, they pitched another fit. Donita linked an arm with each daughter and hissed, “No. No splitting up.”

  With exaggerated patience, Elsie said, “You need to be out here with Charlene, to wait until she’s called to the stand.”

  “We’re all going in together. No splitting up.”

  “Donita, they can’t. There’s a rule against witnesses being in the courtroom, except when they testify. When Kristy is in there, Charlene’s in the hall; when Kristy is done, you’ll sit out here with her while Charlene testifies.”

  “Them girls can’t go up against their daddy alone. You don’t know him. We got to be together.”

  “This is the way it is. It’s the rule.” She gave them a smile that she hoped was reassuring. “But I’ll be in the courtroom with you. Everything is going to be just fine.”

  It had been one hell of a morning; but with Kristy off the stand, Elsie hoped the hardest part was behind her.

  “Your honor, the state calls Charlene Taney to the witness stand.”

  The bailiff walked to the door and opened it wide enough to poke his head through. “Charlene Taney,” he bellowed so loudly that it made Elsie jump.

  The girl approached the stand with a swagger. Elsie’s heart went out to her; Charlene was a girl who balanced a chip on her shoulder. She walked up to Charlene and placed her hand on the girl’s arm. “Walk up to the judge; he’ll give you the oath to tell the truth.” She had to speak up because Kris Taney and his lawyer were engaged in a lengthy exchange at the defense table. “After you’re sworn, you’ll take that seat up there, right by Judge Carter.”

  Charlene stood briefly before Judge Carter to be sworn, and took the seat as directed. Elsie approached fo
r her examination, a little nettled that the defense continued to talk audibly between themselves.

  “Please state your name.”

  “Charlene Taney.”

  She smiled at Charlene, hoping to set her at ease.

  “Charlene, how old are you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “When is your birthday?”

  “December the sixth.”

  “Charlene, I’d like to direct your attention to—­” Elsie said, preparing to launch into her direct examination when Josh Nixon jumped to his feet and exclaimed:

  “I’d like to ask leave to voir dire this witness.”

  Elsie whirled on him with a flash of irritation at the interruption. “What?” she snapped.

  “Ms. Arnold!” the judge interjected. “This is my courtroom, thank you. Mr. Nixon, what’s the subject of your inquiry?”

  “We need to establish that the witness understands the meaning of the oath.”

  Elsie gaped at the judge. “Judge, she just testified that she’s fifteen years old. The state is not obliged to demonstrate that a minor of fifteen understands the oath; she’s already been sworn.”

  “This request is crucial to the defense, your honor.”

  Her heart rate increased as she cried, “I object! The state objects! Why is this crucial? Her younger sister, Kristy, just testified; she’s twelve, and the defense didn’t feel the burning need to quibble about the oath with her.”

  Leaning back in his chair, the judge turned his head toward the defense attorney.

  “Mr. Nixon?”

  “The examination may reveal a problem with this particular witness. I repeat my request.”

  The judge shot a sidelong glance at Charlene, who appeared genuinely confused. Elsie was confused as well; she didn’t know what Nixon had up his sleeve, and that scared her.

  Judge Carter shook his head but said, “I’ll allow it. Proceed.”

  Elsie took her seat as Nixon approached the witness stand. “Charlene Taney, do you understand the significance of the oath to tell the truth?”

  “Huh?”

  Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning out loud, Elsie leaned forward in her chair, eyes locked on Charlene, willing her to answer appropriately.

  “The oath, Ms. Taney. You have sworn to tell the truth. Do you know what that means?”

  Charlene’s jaw locked. “Yep,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Do you know the difference between the truth and a lie?”

  “Uh-­huh.”

  “Are you a truthful person?”

  Charlene’s eyes shifted. “Yeah.”

  “Have you ever told a lie?”

  Elsie’s heart hammered; it was a trick question, there was no good answer. “Objection,” she cried, but the judge waved her down.

  “Overruled.”

  Nixon leaned back against the side of the jury box. “What do you say, Ms. Taney? Have you ever told a lie?”

  Charlene took on a hunted look. She glanced at her father, then back at Nixon.

  The pause dragged on. Elsie couldn’t stay in her seat; she jumped up and said, “Your honor, this is ridiculous. Clearly, the defense is using this voir dire to badger and intimidate the witness. I object to the line of questioning and ask the court to cut it off.”

  The judge said, “Ms. Arnold—­” but she continued.

  “The witness has testified that she understands the oath.”

  “Sit down, Ms. Arnold.” Reluctantly, Elsie obeyed, but her heart was beating so hard that she could almost see it pounding through the fabric of her jacket. She could feel the control over her case slipping away; Nixon was setting her witness up. I gotta stop him, she thought, growing frantic, though she struggled to remain outwardly composed.

  To Charlene, the judge said, “Answer the question, Miss Taney.”

  Charlene fixed a brazen glare at Nixon. “Never.”

  “Never what?”

  “Ain’t never told a lie.”

  Nixon smiled. “Well, that’s surprising. Amazing. Not even a little white lie.”

  “Nope.”

  “What about at school?”

  Charlene’s face hardened. She didn’t reply.

  Nervously, Elsie twisted her pen. He’s got something, but I can’t fight it until I know what it is.

  Nixon persisted. “Didn’t you get in trouble at school for lying?”

  The girl’s shoulders clenched and she stared at the carpet.

  “Didn’t you accuse someone of touching you? Isn’t that right?”

  Shit, shit, shit, Elsie thought, her stomach sinking.

  When Charlene didn’t respond, Nixon moved in closer and raised the volume of his voice. “Didn’t you accuse boys of touching you? And it was all made up, a lie? What about telling the truth that time?”

  Charlene jumped from her chair so suddenly that it took Elsie a moment to react. The girl vaulted over the witness stand and was out of the courtroom like a shot.

  Elsie followed, chasing her through the courthouse hallway, shouting, “Charlene, stop! Come back!”

  A highway patrolman who was standing nearby reached out and grabbed Charlene by the arm as she flew past him. As he restrained the girl, she fought him blindly like a cornered animal. Elsie caught up to them and reached out to Charlene, but the girl slapped her hand away.

  “Charlene, settle down. You can’t run off like this.”

  “He called me a liar.”

  Though Elsie was nearly panting from agitation, she kept her voice calm.

  “Sweetheart, it’s all right; just come back and explain to the judge that you understand the oath, and you’re telling the truth in court.”

  “Can’t. They say I’m a liar.”

  “Charlene, everyone, everybody on earth, has told a lie sometime; that’s like a trick question, the lawyer was trying to trip you up.”

  Charlene quit struggling, and Elsie took her by the hand. To the trooper, she said, “Thanks, Sergeant Crocker, I’ve got it from here.” As the patrolman walked off, she put an arm around Charlene and spoke earnestly.

  “Charlene, come on back and testify, just like we practiced. This is so important; we’ve got to get back in there and get the job done.”

  “I ain’t never going back in there.”

  “Come on, Charlene, please.” Elsie gave her arm a tug, but Charlene snatched it away.

  “I said I ain’t going back, and I’m not gonna. And that is the truth.” She spat the final word.

  “Charlene!”

  They both froze. Donita walked toward them and Charlene turned to face her mother. They were the same height, and stood nose-­to-­nose.

  Donita raised her hand, and with it she grasped the nape of Charlene’s neck and pushed the girl to the side of the hallway. Elsie didn’t follow. She watched as Donita spoke fiercely into the girl’s ear. Charlene’s head bowed, and after a time she nodded.

  Donita gave her a shove in Elsie’s direction. “You go do as you’re told.”

  Charlene shot a resentful look at Elsie. Sullen, she turned and walked back to the courtroom.

  Elsie followed, eyes on the back of the girl’s head. Is this it? She wondered. Have I lost it already?

  Looking into the courtroom through the glass door, she saw Taney twist in his seat to stare down Charlene as the girl returned to the courtroom.

  Elsie’s bulldog instinct came to her in a rush; her chin jerked up and she regarded the defendant through narrowed eyes. She strode back to court with a determined step.

  Chapter Eleven

  ELSIE CAUGHT UP to Charlene and tried to put a supportive arm around her shoulders as they walked through the courtroom, but the girl shook her off and raced back to the witness stand so quickly that it looked like she was eager to return.
Striding up to the bench, Elsie poised herself to make things right with Judge Carter, expecting him to be unhappy with her.

  “Your honor, I apologize for the delay—­” she began, but he cut her off.

  “No need,” he said with a wave. “These cases are highly charged. Miss Taney,” and with a benevolent nod at Charlene added, “I’ll take over the inquiry regarding the oath.” Then he said to the girl, “Do you understand—­”

  Nixon, who had been reclining in his seat at the counsel table, leapt from his chair.

  “Your honor, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me continue with the examination.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d sit back down.”

  With delight, Elsie noted that the judge now withheld eye contact from the defense. So the worm has turned, she thought. Yee haw. Her earlier suspicions were confirmed; Judge Carter was on her side. Feeling a lightness in her chest, she stifled the urge to smile. When the judge stepped in to tie the defense attorney’s hands, it made for a much fairer fight between a grown attorney and a slip of a girl.

  Judge Carter turned back to Charlene. With a diffident expression, he asked whether she understood the import of the oath to tell the truth. Squaring her jaw, the girl said she did.

  “Raise your hand,” he instructed, and she swore to tell the truth.

  The judge looked at Elsie and said, “The state may proceed.”

  She walked up to the witness stand, feeling guardedly confident. “Let’s start again, Charlene. Please state your full name.”

  Charlene proceeded through the direct examination, laying out the facts of the offenses she’d described to Elsie and Ashlock at the Taneys’ apartment the day before, and providing all the facts necessary to support the elements of counts one through four of the felony complaint against Kris Taney.

  When Elsie was done, Nixon launched into his cross, but the judge held him back from battering the witness or opening matters outside of the scope of direct examination. She marveled at the change in Judge Carter’s demeanor; whether it was the product of his personal sympathies or the presence of the local media, she didn’t care. She was just happy to be the fair-­haired child in his courtroom when she really needed it.

  Nixon finally concluded. The judge asked Elsie, “Will you be calling any more witnesses today?”