Accused: My Fight for Truth, Justice & the Strength to Forgive

by Tonya Craft

  I tried to hush my cries so they wouldn’t interfere with her testimony, but I could not shut those tears off no matter how hard I tried to compose myself.

  Chris Arnt started questioning Ashley, and at first she just nodded yes—until he prompted her to say “yes” or “no” for the record a number of times. She seemed annoyed, but she was absolutely polite about it.

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Who have you got there with you in your arms?” he asked.

  “My two stuffed animals.”

  “Do they have names?”

  Ashley nodded.

  “What are their names?”

  “Coco and Tucker.”

  “What was the first one?”

  “Coco.”

  “And do you have something around one of their necks in a little bag?”

  Ashley said it was a Bible verse on a rock, which she had borrowed from Chloe for “good luck.”

  “Is that helping you today, that rock, to tell us the truth?” Chris asked.

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  He then asked about Chloe and whether she was a friend. Ashley said she was a friend “a long time ago.” He asked her about where she goes to school, and where she used to go to school, and what subjects she liked (“math”) and didn’t like (“social studies”). He asked about what pets she had, and she talked about her dogs at her daddy’s house and the dogs at her dad’s parents’ house, and then she finally mentioned Buddy and Candy Cane “at my mom’s.”

  She talked briefly about her brother, Tyler, and when prompted by Arnt, she talked about the fact that she didn’t live with me anymore.

  “Okay. Did something happen and then you went and lived with your dad?” Arnt asked.

  “Are you asking about, like, what she did or something?” Ashley responded.

  “Well, did something happen?” he said.

  “I don’t know what you are asking,” Ashley said.

  “Let me back up a little bit and go a little slower. You were living with your mom, right?”

  Ashley nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Arnt went on to say that she was now living with her dad and asked her how long it had been. She said, “Two years maybe. I don’t know,” and Arnt made her narrow it down: “Two years or one and a half.”

  “And when you lived with your mom, how was things? How were things?” he asked.

  “I had a lot of good friends, but I still always liked my dad the best,” Ashley said.

  Boy, oh boy, did that hurt.

  She went on to say that life at my house was “okay,” until Chris asked her point-blank: “Did anything ever happen between you and your mom that made you feel upset or uncomfortable?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Can you tell us about that?”

  “She touched me in the privates.”

  “She touched you in the where?”

  “Privates.”

  “The privates. What did she touch you with?”

  “Her bare hand.”

  “Her bare hand. Did her bare hand touch your privates on the skin or on the clothes?”

  “Skin.”

  I started to lose it. My tears turned into sobs. I buried my head to try to muffle the sound, but I was shaking. I couldn’t stop.

  “So her skin of her bare hand touched the skin of your privates.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember how old you were when that would happen?” Arnt asked.

  “I really don’t know how old I was. I don’t know. Maybe like the last time I saw her or something, but I don’t know how old I was. I’d say maybe six and a half. I don’t know.”

  “You’re not sure, maybe six, maybe six and a half,” Arnt said, “but you were kind of shrugging your shoulders like you weren’t really positive.”

  “I don’t really know,” she said.

  “Okay. Did that happen a lot of times? Just once? A few times? Can you give us—”

  “Maybe a few.”

  Arnt asked her where Tyler would be when it happened, and she said “different places,” like “with a friend” or “with David.” So he asked about David, whom Ashley described as “my mom’s husband,” adding, “He’s nice to me.” He continued with questions about how she liked staying with her grandma and grandpa on her mom’s side, and Ashley said, “They were nice to me a lot, like, but sometimes they make me feel embarrassed or they would be mean to me sometimes.”

  I thanked God that the courtroom had been cleared of spectators for the children’s testimony—and that my mom and dad weren’t sitting there to hear that.

  Then Arnt turned the questions back to the topic of “touching her privates” and whether everything in my house was usually okay other than that.

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  He asked her where it happened, and Ashley said, “Usually in her room.”

  He asked her whether I would say anything to her when I did it, and she said, “Sometimes, sometimes not, but I don’t really know what she would say because I don’t have the best memory.”

  “Chris.” Doc spoke up. He wanted Arnt to repeat what Ashley had said, since she said it really softly.

  “She said sometimes yes, sometimes no, but I don’t really remember what she said because I don’t have the best memory,” Arnt repeated.

  “Thank you,” Doc said.

  “Did I get that right?” Arnt asked Ashley.

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  Arnt mentioned to Ashley that the two of them had talked before. “Do you remember saying that you don’t like to think about this and people like me asking you questions that makes you think about it?” Arnt said.

  Ashley, of course, repeated that sentiment right back to him: “I don’t really like to think about it,” she said. “I’ve been trying to get it out of my mind. When I heard I had to talk, it made me feel worse.”

  Arnt then looked at Doc and said, “Your witness.”

  That was the whole prosecution side of Ashley’s testimony. It was shocking how short their direct was. Don’t they even want to make it look like they’ve done some work? Don’t they want to preempt even some of the most obvious questions we’re going to be sure to ask?

  I’d managed to recompose myself a little bit. I wasn’t sobbing at least. But every time I looked at Ashley, the tears welled up all over again. All I kept thinking was, What have they done to my baby girl?

  Doc stayed seated at first. “I’m the guy back here writing notes. I get to talk to you. Okay?” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Ashley answered.

  “Is that all right with you? I work for your mommy. When was the last time you saw your mommy?”

  “Like maybe two years ago,” Ashley said.

  “Two years ago. Okay. Where is your mommy now?”

  “What do you mean by that? Where does she live or what do you mean?”

  “Is she here?” Doc asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Over there,” Ashley said without looking.

  “Over there. Have you looked at her since you came in?”

  “I saw her face,” she said.

  “You saw her face. Have you looked at her since you came in other than just seeing her face?”

  “Not really.”

  “No. Okay. Well, I’m going to ask a bunch of questions. Okay? And if I mess something up, I want you to tell me that I got something wrong. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Ashley said.

  Doc went and handed her a part of the Christmas wrapping she’d given me just that past Christmas. It had a picture of Hannah Montana on it, and she’d signed it twice with the words, “To Mommy, Love Ashley.” She said she’d signed it twice because she messed it up the first time.

  Doc was careful to explain to her why he was talking to the court reporter and why there was a sticker with a number on it attached to that wrapping paper, because he was entering that exhibit into evidence and “Ms. Janet” had to t
ype it down.

  Ashley seemed to understand it all very quickly and was fine with it. She confirmed that she’d written those notes to me herself.

  Doc then handed her another bit of evidence—some more of that Christmas wrapping, this time with the dollar bills attached. I’d kept it just as-is. It was so precious to me—I hated bringing it into the courtroom. I didn’t want anything to happen to that gift.

  “And who was the present for?” Doc asked.

  “Tonya.”

  “Okay. And is Tonya your mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When did you start calling her Tonya?”

  “Ever since she did the bad thing.”

  I lost it. I started sobbing again. I couldn’t hold it back. Cary put his arm around me and tried to comfort me.

  “Okay,” Doc continued. “Ever since she did the bad thing?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Let me interrupt here,” Chris Arnt said, standing up and addressing Judge House. “I’ve been very, very lenient. I think we do need to get people to gain control of their emotions in front of the jury. I don’t know if we need to take a break to do that or not.”

  “No,” Doc said. “I mean, this is the real world. She hasn’t seen her in two years.”

  “I understand that,” Judge House said. “Take the time and ask your client if we need to take a break,” Judge House asked Doc.

  “We set it up so there’s no line of sight,” Doc answered.

  “I understand. I’m very sympathetic to that. That’s the reason I ask,” Judge House said.

  “Thank you, Judge,” Doc said. “No.”

  I’d stopped sobbing quite so hard by then, so Doc went on with his questioning. He confirmed that Ashley had wrapped that present, and he entered it into evidence. He also confirmed that Ashley had picked out a purse for me and a matching pair of shoes and had given me some other presents in the current year as well—little gifts like a cross and a ring that came from her hairdresser.

  During part of that evidence introduction, Ashley made a comment in which she thanked “Chris” by his first name. Doc seemed to pick up on that real quick. He asked when Ashley had first stepped into that courthouse, and Ashley described coming in about a month ago with her dad and her stepmom, Sarah—specifically to meet with Chris, and, she noted, she’d even met Judge House.

  I didn’t know what to make of that.

  Doc then turned his attention to trying to narrow down when the alleged touching of privates had happened.

  “It didn’t just happen in one year. It happened more than one year,” Ashley volunteered.

  “Yes. I want to know every single time that it happened,” Doc said.

  “I don’t have the best memory,” Ashley said.

  “If we can figure it out. Okay? And I’m going to show you pictures of you to help see if they help you remember. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Doc explained that some of the pictures would be of Ashley and me together.

  “Do I have to?” Ashley said.

  Doc basically convinced her that she did, and then Arnt spoke up again—complaining that one of the photos showed Ashley as a baby, and “How can she possibly be expected to identify that one?”

  “I have an indictment that starts just about when she was born,” Doc said.

  “Regardless of how the indictment is, how do we expect a six-month-old to identify a picture?” Arnt complained. “It’s impossible. He’s just making a show of it. I object to that.”

  “Well, okay,” Doc said. “If they want to narrow the indictment down so the defense isn’t looking at her entire life span, that would be fine.”

  I admired Doc’s feistiness right then. It was one instance where I was absolutely glad that he could be such an arrogant pain in the butt!

  “I object to the impossibility of the witness possibly identifying the picture,” Arnt said. “It’s just a show. I’m objecting to that.”

  Judge House finally spoke up: “If she doesn’t identify it, then let’s move on.”

  “Who are those two people?” Doc asked Ashley.

  “Me and my mom,” Ashley said without skipping a beat.

  “And who are those two people?” Doc asked, showing another photo.

  “Me and my mom.”

  Showing her the photo of me holding her as a baby—a photo that was now officially entered into evidence because of Ashley’s confirmation—Doc asked, “Now, when you were this old, were the touching privates happening?”

  “I don’t know,” Ashley said.

  “Okay. Let me ask you about the next year.” He showed her three pictures. “Can you identify those people?”

  “I know they’re all going to be the same people,” Ashley snapped. “So that’s me and my mom and that’s Tyler in the background, if you can see my brother.”

  “Okay,” Doc said.

  “In the little round glasses.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ashley identified a couple of other photos, too—until Arnt stood up again. “Judge, I’m going to make a relevancy objection to this entire series of photos. The stated purpose is obviously not—she said she doesn’t know. This doesn’t jog her memory. That was the stated relevance on a whole host of these photos,” Chris said. “What these really are is a back-door attempt to generate sympathy for the defendant.”

  Doc countered, “I have medical records fixed in time. I have reports from other people fixed in time. I’m trying to fix her in time as to when this happened.”

  As Doc continued with a well-reasoned counter to the objection, Arnt said, “I don’t know if I’m speaking English or not. Apparently, I’m not.”

  Judge House went right along with him. He tried to get Doc not to enter all of the photos, and instead just ask Ashley about specific years of her life to try to narrow down when the incidents happened. Only after something relevant was established would he allow the photos to be entered into evidence, he said.

  So Doc went through, year by year, trying to narrow down when the touching began, and Ashley responded, “I really don’t remember when, but it wasn’t when I was like a teeny, teeny baby.”

  “Got you,” Doc said—meaning he understood what she was saying. Not like, “Got you!” He was just speaking casually and comfortably with her, which I hoped made her not feel threatened as she sat there.

  Finally, she remembered something. He focused in a little more as Ashley took a big stretch. He asked about Chloe McDonald, and Ashley talked about going to her house “a lot.”

  “When was that?” Doc asked.

  “The last time would probably have been like 2005 or 2006,” she answered.

  Doc asked her if she remembered being at Chloe’s house one time when Chloe got in trouble. Ashley said, “No.” He asked if she remembered an incident at Chloe’s after which she went to see a pediatric diagnostic. Ashley asked what a “pediatric diagnostic” was, and once she understood she said, “No.” He tried for a while to get her to recall that incident, until Ashley finally said, “Can I take a break?”

  The judge allowed a short break. I’d made it a habit to leave the courtroom and give David a quick hug during breaks, but I didn’t go out that time—so David knew I was in a bad place. He hesitantly came in and approached me. I sat at the defense table with my head down, sobbing. My body was shaking. David placed a hand on my back to let me know he was there. I shrugged it off.

  I could barely breathe. Doc went over a bunch of notes, and we all talked very briefly before Ashley came back to the stand. Doc decided to go back with a new approach to the whole timeline question. When we got started again, he showed her a picture of Hunter, my friend Tammy’s son. He asked her if he was around a lot. Ashley said he was at our home two or three days a week. He then showed her a picture of her and her then best friend, Danielle. He asked if Danielle was around a lot, and she said she was at our house a lot, yes. He then showed her a picture
of another one of her very good friends from kindergarten, Hailey Lewis (my friend Shanica’s daughter), whom Ashley also said was over at our house “a lot.” In fact, Hailey was over “mostly all the time Hunter was. Tyler would have Hunter over and I would have her over,” she said.

  Her memory was perfectly clear when jogged by a few photos.

  After going through a whole long list of friends and events, trying to pin her down to even a general range of dates, Doc showed her pictures from her January 2008 birthday party, with the limo. Ashley pointed out some of the people in the picture, including Chloe. When Doc asked her whether Chloe came over to the house very often, Ashley answered, “Not really.”

  After establishing that the party was at the beginning of 2008, he then asked her whether the first time I ever did a “private touch” happened before 2008 or after 2008.

  “Before 2008,” Ashley said.

  “Before. Okay. How far before [that] 2008 limo party?”

  “I honestly don’t know what year,” she said. “So I don’t know, but I know it was before 2008.”

  “Okay,” Doc said. “Did it happen after the limo party in 2008?”

  “Maybe about one more time.”

  “Maybe about one more time. Okay,” Doc said.

  He continued this way, using photos and events such as the wedding to pin Ashley down to something specific, and writing the dates on a big white board. In the end, he basically got Ashley to confirm that the touching had “happened between April of 2007 and May of 2008, in there; is that right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ashley agreed.

  “Thank you. Boy, that was helpful,” Doc told her.

  Doc went on to try to get some details of May 30 from Ashley, and she remembered it incorrectly. He attempted to play the whispered phone message she left me that weekend, but Arnt objected, and Ashley said she had no memory of making such a call. So we weren’t allowed to play it.

  Doc then focused on whether or not Ashley recalled getting stomachaches and whether I had put medicine on her during that same time period when the alleged “touching” took place.

  “No,” Ashley said.

  “No,” Doc answered. “Do you remember telling somebody that your mom put medicine on you?”

  “I did not say my mom did. I did not say my mom did,” Ashley said.