“Yes.”
“Yes,” Kevin repeated, as if that were an admission of guilt. He paused, a slight smile on his face as he turned from Cornbleau to the jury and then back to Cornbleau.
“Mr. Cornbleau, did you on more than one previous occasion have words with Miss Wilson about her bulletin boards?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“They were too small and not up to standards.”
“So you were critical of her as a teacher?”
“Room decor is an integral part of a teacher’s effectiveness,” Cornbleau said pedantically.
“Uh-huh, but Miss Wilson didn’t have . . . let us say . . . the same sense of high regard for bulletin boards.”
“No.”
“She was, in fact, according to what you wrote on her chart, ‘disdainful.’”
“Unfortunately, most of the newer teachers are not given the same good background in college.” Cornbleau smirked.
Kevin nodded. “Yes, why can’t everyone be like us?” he asked rhetorically, and some people in the audience snickered. The judge rapped his gavel.
“You also have been critical of Miss Wilson’s clothing, have you not?” Kevin continued more directly.
“I think she should dress more conservatively, yes.”
“Yet Miss Wilson’s department head has continually given her high marks for her teaching abilities,” Kevin interrupted, raising his voice. “On her last report she said”—Kevin looked at his document—“‘Lois Wilson has an intrinsic understanding of children. No matter what the obstacle, she seems to be able to reach them and get them stimulated.’” He put the document down. “That’s quite a nice review, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but as I said . . .”
“No further questions, your honor.”
Kevin went back to his desk, his face red with fury, something he had the ability to do at a moment’s notice. All eyes were on him. When he looked back at the elegant man in the audience, he saw that the smile had left his face, but it had been replaced with a genuine look of awe. Kevin felt buoyed.
Miriam, on the other hand, looked sad, sad enough to burst into tears. She looked down quickly when he gazed at her. She’s ashamed of me, he thought. My God, she’s still ashamed of me. She won’t be much longer, he concluded confidently.
“Mr. Balm? Any further questions for Mr. Cornbleau?”
“No, your honor. We would like to call Barbara Stanley to the stand, your honor,” the district attorney said, a tone of desperation in his voice.
Kevin patted Lois Wilson’s hand reassuringly. He had driven the prosecution to the heart of their case.
A chubby girl with curly light brown hair trimmed just below her earlobes came down the aisle. The ten-year-old wore a light blue dress with a frilly white collar and frilly white sleeves. The baggy garment seemed to add to her girth.
She anxiously took her seat and raised her hand to be sworn in. Kevin nodded to himself and shot a knowing look at Martin Balm. She had been well schooled in what to expect. Balm had done his homework, too; but Kevin felt he had done more, and that would make all the difference.
“Barbara,” Martin Balm began, approaching her.
“One moment, Mr. Balm,” the judge said. He leaned toward Barbara Stanley. “Barbara, do you understand what you have just sworn to do . . . to tell the truth?” Barbara glanced quickly at the audience and then turned back to the judge and nodded. “And do you understand how important what you say here can be?” She nodded again, this time more softly. The judge leaned back. “Carry on, Mr. Balm.”
“Thank you, your honor.” Balm moved up to the witness chair. He was a tall, lean man, on his way to a promising political career. He was uncomfortable with this case and had hoped Kevin and Lois Wilson would take his offer, but they hadn’t, and here he was, relying on the testimony of ten-year-old children. “I’d like you to tell the court just what you told Mr. Cornbleau that day in his office. Go slowly.”
The chubby girl looked quickly at Lois. Kevin had told her to stare at all the children intently, especially the three who were confirming Barbara Stanley’s accusations.
“Well . . . sometimes, when we had special arts . . .”
“Special arts. What’s that, Barbara?”
“Special arts is art or reading or music. The class goes to the art teacher or the music teacher,” the little girl recited, her eyes almost closed. Kevin could see she was trying hard to do it all correctly. When he looked around, he saw how members of the audience half smiled, silently rooting for the child. The gentleman in the back, however, looked intense, almost angry.
“I see,” Balm said, nodding. “They go to another room, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Please say yes or no, Barbara, okay?”
“Uh . . . I mean yes.”
“Okay, sometimes when you had special arts . . .” Balm prompted.
“Miss Wilson would ask one of us to stay behind,” Barbara replied on cue.
“Stay behind? Remain in class alone with her?”
“Uh . . . yes.”
“And?”
“One time, she asked me to.”
“And what did you tell Mr. Cornbleau about this time?”
Barbara turned herself a bit in the seat so she could avoid Lois’s gaze. Then she took a deep breath and began.
“Miss Wilson asked me to sit by her, and she told me she thought I was growing into a pretty girl, but there were things I should know about my body, things adults don’t like to talk about.” She paused and looked down.
“Go on.”
“She said there were places that were special.”
“Special?”
“Uh . . . yes.”
“And what did she want you to know about these places, Barbara?” Barbara shot a quick glance in Lois Wilson’s direction and then turned back to Balm. “Barbara, what did she want you to know?” he repeated.
“That special things happen whenever . . . whenever anyone touches them.”
“I see. And then what did she do?” He nodded to encourage her to continue.
“She showed me the places.”
“Showed you? How?”
“She pointed to them, and then she asked me to let her touch them so I would understand.”
“Did you let her, Barbara?”
Barbara pressed her lips together tightly and nodded.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Where exactly did she touch you, Barbara?”
“Here and there,” Barbara said, pointing to her chest and between her legs.
“Did she just touch you there, or did she do something more?”
Barbara bit her lower lip.
“This is hard, Barbara, we know. But we’ve got to ask you so that the right things can be done. You understand, right?” She nodded. “Okay, tell the court. What else did Miss Wilson do?”
“She put her hand in here,” she said, placing her own right hand between her legs, “and rubbed.”
“Put her hand in there? You mean, in under your clothing?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened, Barbara?”
“She asked me if it felt special. I told her it just tickled, and she got annoyed and pulled her hand out. She said I wasn’t ready to understand yet, but she would try again some other time.”
“Did she?”
“Not with me,” Barbara said quickly.
“With friends of yours, other girls in the class?”
“Uh-huh. Yes.”
“And when you told them what Miss Wilson had done to you, they told you what she had done to them, correct?”
“Yes.”
A low murmur trembled through the audience. The judge looked out with reproach, and everyone became quiet instantly.
“Then all of you told everything to Mr. Cornbleau?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, Barbara. Mr. Taylor is going to ask you questions now, too. Just be as truthful
with him as you have been with me,” Martin Balm said and then turned toward Kevin and shook his head. He was capable of dramatics, too.
Pretty sharp, Kevin thought. I’ve got to remember that one: just be as truthful with him as you have been with me.
“Barbara,” Kevin said before getting up. “Your full name is Barbara Elizabeth Stanley, right?” His tone of voice was light, friendly.
“Yes.”
“There’s another girl in your class named Barbara, too, isn’t there, Barbara?”
She nodded, and Kevin stepped closer, still smiling.
“But her name is Barbara Louise Martin, and to differentiate, distinguish between the two of you, Miss Wilson called her Barbara Louise and you just Barbara, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like Barbara Louise?”
She shrugged.
“Do you think Miss Wilson likes Barbara Louise better than she likes you?”
Barbara Stanley looked at Lois, her eyes growing smaller.
“Yes,” she said.
“Because Barbara Louise does better in class?”
“I don’t know.”
“And because Barbara Louise never got in trouble for using bad language in class like you did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you try to get the other girls to dislike Barbara Louise?”
“No.”
“Now, Barbara, the judge told you, you have to tell the truth when you testify in court. Are you telling the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pass notes to your friends making fun of Barbara Louise?
Barbara’s lips trembled a bit.
“Didn’t Miss Wilson catch you passing bad notes about her to other girls in class?” he asked, nodding. Barbara looked at Lois Wilson and then out in the audience toward her parents. “Miss Wilson keeps good records of whatever goes on in her classroom,” Kevin said, turning toward Cornbleau. “She saved the notes.” Kevin unwrapped a piece of paper. “‘Let’s call her Barbara Loser,’ you wrote to somebody, and a number of other students started calling her that, right?” Barbara didn’t reply. “In fact, the other girls who claim Miss Wilson did things to them joined you in calling Barbara Louise ‘Barbara Loser,’ right?”
“Yes.” Barbara was close to tears.
“So you just lied when I asked you if you tried to get the other girls to dislike Barbara Louise, didn’t you?” he asked with a sudden harshness. Barbara Stanley bit down on her lower lip. “Didn’t you?” he demanded. She nodded. “And maybe you’re lying again about the things you just told Mr. Balm, huh?” She shook her head quickly.
“No,” the little girl said in a small voice. Kevin could feel the hateful glare of some members of the audience. A tear had broken free of Barbara’s right eye and traveled unchecked down her cheek.
“You always wanted to be as popular with Miss Wilson as Barbara Louise is, didn’t you, Barbara?”
She shrugged.
“In fact, you always wanted to be the most popular girl in your class, popular with the boys as well as the girls, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t? Not lying again, are you?” He shot a glance at the jury. “You told Mary Lester that, right?” She started to shake her head. “I could ask Mary to come here, Barbara, so remember to tell the truth. Did you tell Mary you wished everyone hated Barbara Louise and everyone liked you more?” he asked, deepening his tone.
“Yes.”
“So Barbara Louise is a popular girl, isn’t she?”
“Uh-huh. Yes.”
“You’d like to be popular, too, right? Who wouldn’t?” he said, nearly laughing. Barbara didn’t know whether she had to answer the question, but Kevin didn’t need the answer. “Now, Barbara, you know that you and the other girls are accusing Miss Wilson of doing sexual things, bad sexual things to you. Right?”
Barbara nodded, her eyes a bit wider. Kevin held his gaze on her. “Yes,” she finally said.
“Was this supposedly the first time sexual things were done to you or the first time you did something sexual, Barbara?” he asked quickly. There was an instant gasp from the audience and then an angry murmur. The judge rapped his gavel.
Barbara nodded slowly.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” she said.
“But what about the time you and Paula and Sara and Mary invited Gerald and Tony to your house one afternoon after school when your parents weren’t home, when no one in your family was home?” Kevin asked quietly. Barbara’s face reddened. She looked about helplessly for a moment. Kevin moved closer and, almost in a whisper, asked, “Did you know that Mary told Miss Wilson about that afternoon, Barbara?”
Barbara looked terrified. She shook her head quickly.
Kevin smiled. When he glanced at Martin Balm, he saw the look of confusion on his face. Kevin nodded and smirked at the jury.
“You haven’t been doing very well in Miss Wilson’s class, have you, Barbara?” he asked, his tone becoming light and friendly once again.
“No.” Barbara wiped away a tear. “But it’s not my fault,” she added quickly, happy the questioning had taken a different direction.
Kevin paused as if he were through, but then turned back to her.
“Do you think Miss Wilson doesn’t like you and makes it tough for you?”
“Yes.”
“So you wouldn’t want her as your teacher anymore, would you?”
Barbara couldn’t pull her eyes from Lois’s intense gaze. She shrugged.
“No? Yes?” Kevin prompted.
“I just want her to stop picking on me.”
“I see. All right, Barbara. When did the incident between you and Miss Wilson supposedly happen? What was the date?”
“Objection, your honor,” Balm said, rising quickly. “I don’t think this little girl can be expected to remember dates.”
“Your honor, the prosecution is presenting this little girl as one of its chief witnesses against my client. We can’t pick and choose what she should and shouldn’t remember about such an important allegation. If her testimony is inaccurate in any way . . .”
“All right, Mr. Taylor. You’ve made your point. Objection overruled. Ask your question, Mr. Taylor.”
“Thank you, your honor. All right, Barbara, forget the date. Did it happen on a Monday, a Thursday?” Kevin asked quickly, practically leaping at the little girl.
“Um . . . a Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?” He took another step toward her.
“Yes.”
“But you don’t have special arts on Tuesday, Barbara,” he said quickly, seizing on an unexpected piece of good luck: the girl’s confusion.
She looked about helplessly. “Um, I meant Thursday.”
“You meant Thursday. You sure it wasn’t a Monday?” She shook her head. “Because very often Miss Wilson goes to the faculty room when she has a break, and she wouldn’t be in her room after the class left.” Barbara just stared. “So it was a Thursday?”
“Yes,” she said weakly.
“Didn’t it supposedly happen to the other girls on a Thursday, too?” he asked, as if he were confused about the facts himself.
“Objection, your honor. She hasn’t been schooled in everyone’s testimony.”
“On the contrary,” Kevin said, “it’s my contention that she has.”
“By whom?” Balm demanded indignantly.
“Gentlemen.” The judge rapped his gavel. “The objection is sustained. Limit your questions to the testimony of this witness, Mr. Taylor.”
“Fine, your honor. Barbara, when did you tell the other girls what had happened to you? Did you tell them right away?” Kevin asked before she could recover.
“No.”
“Did you tell them at your house?”
“I . . .”
“Was it the day you had that party with Gerald and Tony?”
The little girl bit down softly on her lower lip.
&nbs
p; “That’s when you told them, right? Was there some reason why you picked that afternoon? Did something happen that gave you the idea to tell that story?”
Barbara’s tears began to flow harder. She shook her head.
“If you want people to believe the story you are telling about Miss Wilson, you’re going to have to tell everything, Barbara. All the girls are going to have to tell everything,” he added. “Why you talked about Miss Wilson that afternoon, what you and the boys did, all of it.” The look of terror on Barbara’s face amplified.
“Unless, of course, you made it all up and then had the girls make it all up,” he added, offering her a quick out. “Did you make it all up, Barbara?”
She sat like stone, her lips trembling slightly. Barbara didn’t reply.
“If you tell the truth now, this is where it will end,” he promised. “No one has to know anything else,” he added, almost in a whisper. The little girl looked stunned. “Barbara?”
“Your honor,” Balm said, “Mr. Taylor is badgering the witness.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Balm,” the judge said. He leaned toward Barbara. “Barbara, you have to answer the question.”
“Did you lie to Mr. Cornbleau because you don’t like Miss Wilson?” Kevin asked quickly. It was a great move; it assumed she had already answered in the positive. Out of the corner of his eye, Kevin saw eyebrows rise on members of the jury.
Barbara shook her head, but another tear escaped and then another as they started to trickle down her cheek.
“You know you could ruin Miss Wilson’s career, Barbara?” Kevin said, stepping aside so that Lois Wilson could stare directly at the little girl. “This isn’t a game, not like a game you play in your house, a game like ‘Special Places,’ Kevin added in a loud whisper, and the little girl’s face looked as if it had burst into flame. Her eyes widened. She looked frantically at the audience.
“If you didn’t tell the whole truth before, it’s better that you tell it now rather than keep telling the lies. Now, think and tell us the truth, Barbara,” Kevin added, standing over her and glaring down with his eyes as wide as he could make them.
Kevin reached back like a prizefighter readying his knockout blow. “Miss Wilson never touched the other girls. They agreed to say it because of what they did at your house that afternoon, right? You said you would tell everyone if they didn’t help.”
Judgement Day Page 30
