by Jeanne Winer
“Of course. Which doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your visits.”
She adjusted the pillow behind her neck. It had been a long emotional day. Time to get horizontal and travel to the land of Nod, a wild, lawless place where she often ran into her husband, and sometimes if she was really lucky, her mother.
“How’s the case going, anyway?” he asked, puffing at his cigarette.
Lee suddenly thought of Mary sneaking into her son’s preliminary hearing wearing her friend’s wig. The image was both sad and amusing.
“We might have had a breakthrough today. I’m not sure.”
“Well, you’re an Isaacs, so you won’t give up until you find a way to help your client. It’s in your DNA. An Isaacs never gives up.”
She wanted to ask if he’d ever considered just the possibility of giving up—not for long, maybe a day or two—especially after the death of his beloved wife. But of course she didn’t. An Isaacs never even thinks of giving up; it was her legacy.
“Hey,” her father said, “today’s your anniversary. The day you first met Paul.”
“You’re right.” She was surprised. “You have an excellent memory.”
“An elephant never forgets.”
“Where did that come from?” she asked, laughing.
“Hell if I know. It just popped into my head.”
She heard a tiny hiss, the sound of his cigarette being dropped into a tumbler of water. For as long as she could remember, he’d never used an ashtray.
“Listen,” he said, “if it really bothers you, I’ll try to focus on happier, more positive things.”
She stood up, dislodging Charlie from his perch.
“No, you’re perfect just the way you are.”
“Am I your funny valentine?” He hummed a few bars of the song.
“You are indeed. So don’t die before I call you again.”
“Okay, but call soon.”
“Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, kiddo.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the first floor of the Justice Center, there was a small cafeteria with a sitting area for about thirty people. Lee sat at one of the tables, eating a sesame bagel with cream cheese. All the other tables were occupied by lawyers studying their files or reading the newspaper. Because she’d been practicing forever, Lee knew everyone in the room and, for the most part, liked and respected them; and if she didn’t, she pretended otherwise. Politics 101: You never knew when or from whom you might need a favor.
It was eight-thirty on the first Monday of the New Year. Jeremy’s arraignment was at nine. Carla and Peggy were supposed to meet her there in fifteen minutes. As usual, she’d staked out the table beforehand. It was silly, but she couldn’t help it. All good lawyers were control freaks.
It had snowed all weekend and she’d skied for miles on Sunday. Her toe had finally stopped hurting and she was feeling strong and well. Ready to disappoint Dan and set her client’s case for trial. She still had no idea what her defense would be, but sometimes you had to remain calm and respectful, waiting until it revealed itself. The Gods did not reward fearful, panic-stricken defense attorneys.
One of the first things her then-boss, a recovering alcoholic, told her as a public defender—“Fake it till you make it”—had stayed with her all these years. It worked unless she was up against someone like Dan, who’d obviously received the same advice when he’d started.
As she ate, Lee had her fingers crossed that Mary would show up at the hearing and then follow through with her promise to help. She also hoped they wouldn’t have to spend too much time comforting the woman and reassuring her that her son’s life wasn’t ruined, because it probably was. But who knew? Maybe Mary would reveal something crucial, something that would prevent Dan from moving confidently ahead toward checkmate.
She finished her bagel and sighed. Dreaming was allowed up to a point, after which it would be a sign of premature trial psychosis, a state of mind where the lawyer ignores everything negative and focuses only on the possibility of a miraculous intervention from above.
Lee looked across the room and saw the judge in Jeremy’s case standing in front of the pastry counter. Judge Samuels was a portly, bespectacled man with pink skin and thinning white hair. As she watched, the judge picked up a fresh croissant, held it to his face almost as if he were sniffing it, and then put it back. After rejecting a donut and an apple turnover, he grabbed a bag of peanuts, stood in the checkout line, and waited to pay for it. A minute later, as he was heading for the door, he noticed Lee and changed course, limping toward her.
“Hi, Judge,” she said, motioning to the empty chair across from her. “Why are you limping?”
“Gout.” He lowered himself into the chair. “Can you believe it?”
Lee could but shook her head.
The judge ripped open the bag of peanuts and poured some into his hand.
“This is what my doctor considers an acceptable snack.” He popped them into his mouth and shuddered, as if they were pills he was required to take.
“I like peanuts,” Lee said with a straight face.
“You would.” He was staring at her. “You look great. As always.”
“Thanks, Judge.”
He ate another handful, then closed the bag and dropped it on the table.
“Ugh. You know what I really love?”
“Wine and lobster?”
“How did you know?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“Just a guess.”
He glanced around the room, and then leaned in closer.
“There are only three things I really love: good wine, good food, and good sex. And these days, the occasional third isn’t enough to compensate for the lack of the other two.”
“That’s too much information, Judge.”
“Sorry. I guess I’ve always just thought of you as one of the guys.”
“I’m assuming that’s a compliment?”
“Oh, yeah. And not only that, you’re one of the best attorneys who’s ever practiced in my courtroom. Which doesn’t mean I’m going to cut you any slack on the Matthews case.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to, Judge.” She peeked at the clock on the wall. It was a quarter to nine. Carla and Peggy would be here any moment.
“Here,” he said, handing her the rest of the peanuts. “I’d rather starve.” He hesitated. “Speaking of the Matthews case, any progress toward a settlement?”
“Not yet.” She tucked the bag into her briefcase. “Thanks for the nuts. I’ll probably eat them for lunch.”
“To each their own.” He stood up to leave. “I know you know what you’re doing, Lee, but objectively speaking, it doesn’t look so good for your kid.”
“Not to worry. I’ve pulled out worst cases than this.”
“I know you have. I’ve watched you. Well, see you in court.”
She thought for a moment. It would be hokey, but what the hell.
“Have you brought home any flowers recently?”
He seemed to know what she was getting at.
“No, not for a while.”
“Hmm. I’d suggest tulips.” Surely a new low in terms of trial advocacy.
“Tulips?” he whispered. “Women like tulips?”
Lee was now the spokeswoman for half the human race.
“Yes, Judge. We love tulips.” Actually, she really did, so it wasn’t totally ridiculous. And if it helped, it might make a difference somewhere down the line.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’ll get some on my way home.”
“Don’t tell me how it went.”
“Right, I won’t. See you in court.” He limped toward the door and then disappeared into the crowd of people rushing toward the courtrooms on the first and second floors.
The arraignment was quick. Lee pleaded not guilty on behalf of her client and Judge Samuels set the trial for May 23rd.
“I’m guessing two weeks,” the judge told them.
“More than eno
ugh time,” Dan agreed.
So of course Lee disagreed.
“Only if the prosecution puts its whole case on in the first week. If not, it might take longer.” She was bluffing and everyone knew it. She could hear Dan chuckling in the background.
“Judge,” he said, “I’ll bet a hundred dollars we can do the case in less than two weeks.”
“Any response to that, Ms. Isaacs?”
“I don’t bet for chump change, Judge.”
“Well, it probably wouldn’t be appropriate anyway.” The judge flipped through the calendar on his desk. “I’ll set a one-day motions hearing for April 17th. Is that okay?”
Both parties checked their appointment books and then nodded.
“Ms. Isaacs, I’m assuming you’ll be filing a motion to suppress your client’s confession. Anything else significant?”
Lee pretended to think about it.
“Well, Judge, there were numerous searches and seizures. There may be discovery issues, and of course there are the usual matters that should be ruled on in limine. So, the truth is, I don’t know.” Actually, she did. None of the other issues would take more than an hour to litigate.
“That’s fine, Ms. Isaacs. If we have to find another day to finish the motions, we will.”
“Thanks, Judge.”
When the arraignment was over, Lee looked behind her and saw Mary sitting in the back row without her wig. She was wearing a pretty blue dress that complimented her figure. Her face, in repose, was almost identical to her sister’s.
The guards were about to escort Jeremy back to bed. Here came the shackles, as if he had anywhere else to go. Vegas. Buenos Aires. Casablanca. Jeremy Matthews: master escapologist.
“Jeremy,” Lee whispered. “Your mother is here. She was at the preliminary hearing as well.”
Jeremy kept his eyes on his feet and didn’t respond. Lee could hardly blame him.
“She feels really bad, Jeremy. She’s not asking you to forgive her, but she wants to help.”
“Well, it’s kind of too late, but you know what? Tell her it’s all good.”
“But it’s not good. She abandoned you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He patted Lee’s arm with his handcuffs. “Really. What’s done is done. I’m cool with it.”
“We have to take him now,” one of the guards said.
“All right,” Lee told them, then turned back to her client. “I’ll see you next week. Keep eating and exercising.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Mr. Cool was turning into Mr. Frozen.
“I’ll start with a little sympathy,” Carla whispered, “and then you can take over from there. Go easy.”
They were walking down the hall toward a small conference room on the second floor of the Justice Center. Mary and Peggy were following close behind, Peggy’s arm around her younger sister’s shoulders. Lee felt vaguely irritated by Carla’s remark. Of course she would go easy. Anyone with half a brain would go easy. It wouldn’t take much to send Mary fleeing from the interview.
Carla must have sensed Lee’s reaction because she whispered, “Sorry. I’m just nervous. I can’t believe she actually showed up. I’ve interviewed over a hundred people in this case and Mary’s our last hope for any new information.”
“I know.” Carla was right; there was no one left but Mary. It took great discipline not to keep peeking over her shoulder to make sure the two sisters were still following them.
Finally, they reached the room. Lee opened the door and motioned for Mary to enter.
“May I come in too?” Peggy asked. “I promise I won’t say anything. I think it would make Mary feel more comfortable.”
“It would,” Mary agreed.
“Sorry,” Lee said, reaching in and turning on the light. “Whatever your sister tells us will be confidential, but not if there’s a third party present. We don’t want to turn you into an involuntary witness in the case.”
“Oh. Well then of course not.” Peggy kissed her sister on the cheek. “I’ll be right outside, waiting. And then we’re going to lunch. You promised.”
“I did, but we can’t dawdle. Leonard will get suspicious if I return too late.”
“I’m proud of you, little carrot.”
Carla grinned at the two women.
“Is that a nickname?”
“Yes,” Mary answered, “it’s what she always called me when we were kids.”
“Oh that’s so funny,” Carla said, nudging Lee in the ribs. “I wish I had a sister.”
Both women smiled gratefully at Carla. Lee merely nodded. Personally, she’d never wanted a sister. She’d loved the attention of two doting parents. Why would she want to share it? In the meantime, all three women were hugging again. Lee tried to hide her impatience.
Inside the conference room, there was a round wooden table and four chairs. Carla sat down next to Mary while Lee took a seat across from her. Carla started by assuring Mary that everything she said was confidential and that no one was going to judge her. They just needed to know the truth. Mary nodded, tears running down her face. They let her cry for a while until Lee couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Okay,” Lee told her, glancing at Carla, who immediately pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “We can’t undo the past, so let’s see what we can do to help Jeremy now. I mean Jeremiah.”
“No, you were right the first time.” Mary dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief Carla had loaned her. “I only called him Jeremiah in front of Leonard. Jeremy hates the name.”
“You love him very much.”
“Oh yes. No matter what he’s done.” She dropped the handkerchief onto her lap and straightened her posture. “And I won’t waste any more of this interview berating myself. I did what I did. At the time, I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to my husband. There’s simply no excuse. Ask me whatever you want.”
Suddenly, Mary looked strong and determined, like her sister. Lee couldn’t help staring. What happened to you? she wanted to ask. But of course she already knew. Since the first caveman clubbed his future wife and dragged her to his grotto, Leonard and other men just like him happened to millions of Marys. If Lee had her way, the martial arts would be mandatory for all girls beginning in the first grade. And little boys would be discouraged from fighting.
They started by talking about Jeremy’s unremarkable childhood and his father’s increasingly overbearing behavior as his son entered adolescence.
“Leonard was afraid of something,” Mary said, shaking her head. “But I didn’t know what it could be. As far as I was concerned, Jeremy was the perfect son. He was kind and polite and funny. He even went to church, although it was clearly beginning to bore him. I tried to shield him as best I could from Leonard’s rage, especially because I couldn’t understand the reason why. Leonard knew, but I didn’t. I really didn’t.”
“Knew what?” Lee asked, although she’d already guessed.
Mary bowed her head in shame.
“That our son was gay.”
“What?” Carla asked, clearly surprised.
“Yes,” Lee said, “that’s what I thought.” She waited for Mary to compose herself, then asked her to describe the day she watched her son leave home with nothing but his backpack and a couple of dollars. The day her son changed from a polite middle-class boy from the suburbs to a desperate street kid picking through dumpsters in the back alleys of Denver.
“I have relived this a thousand times,” Mary whispered, and then slowly, almost involuntarily, shut her eyes. For the next few minutes, she recited the facts as if she were watching them on a screen inside her head, a movie where bad things happened to other people. People who never saw things coming and were floored by life’s surprises. Her face was calm and expressionless, like a doll’s.
“Every Friday afternoon, Leonard preached at a small church in Manitou Springs, and I always went with him. I enjoyed it, actually. It was a chance for us to get out. Jeremy never expected us to return befor
e dinner. One afternoon in February, when we got to the church, only one old man was present. Everyone else had the flu. After less than an hour, the old man started coughing, so we decided to call it a day.
“When we got home, the first thing we saw was this dark blue station wagon parked in front of the house. And there they were, Jeremy and another boy, sitting in the front seat making out. Like teenagers at a drive-in, except both of them were male. At first, I tried to pretend it was platonic—just two good friends saying good-bye—but it obviously wasn’t. And they weren’t really saying good-bye. More like hello.
“I looked over at Leonard and his face was purple with rage. I’ve never seen him look angrier. When he started to get out of the car, I tried to grab his arm, but he pushed me away and ran toward the boys. I got out too and began shouting. I wanted to warn them, but it was freezing out and their windows were closed. Leonard pounded on the passenger door, screaming at the top of his lungs. For a moment, Jeremy stared at us, his face bright red with embarrassment. Then, after zipping up his jacket and saying something to the driver, he got out of the car. He looked sad and resigned.” She hesitated. “But-but he also looked relieved, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
“After the station wagon took off, Jeremy wouldn’t look at me. Leonard was still screaming, but neither of us paid any attention to him. It was just a lot of noise in the background. I reached up and smoothed Jeremy’s hair, which was mussed, and asked why he hadn’t told me. ‘I couldn’t,’ he said. ‘I just couldn’t.’
“Leonard was now ordering Jeremy to leave. ‘You are an abomination,’ he screamed, ‘to your parents, church, and community!’ Jeremy just nodded and began to walk away. I was too stunned to think. ‘Wait!’ I finally shouted. ‘What about counseling?’ Jeremy stopped and turned. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. There would be no miracle. A hand would not reach down and save us. ‘Mom,’ he said, ‘if years of prayer couldn’t help me, counseling won’t make any difference. I am what I am. This is all for the best. Promise you won’t tell anyone, okay?’ Of course I promised. By then, Leonard had grabbed my arm and was pulling me toward the house. I might have tried to break free, but then what? No, I simply lacked the will. In less than a minute, my tall, funny, beautiful boy was gone.”
