Long Hill Home

by Kathryn Pincus

  Kelly and Dan stood stiffly. As Kelly watched Judge Silver enter the room and climb the steps to the bench, she thought he looked a bit like someone’s grandfather. She had appeared before Judge Silver many times, but she realized that she had never actually looked at him as a person. He was short and a little stooped. His face was weathered but kind-looking. Kelly felt sure that Judge Silver understood the gravity of this matter by his serious expression and the way he cleared his throat when he sat down. He put a pair of black reading glasses on the bridge of his nose to read the caption of the case out loud. Then he removed the glasses and held them in his right hand as he spoke directly to Barnard.

  “Mr. Barnard, you are here for your arraignment. Do you understand that the Court will inform you of the substance of the charges against you, and that you will enter your plea to each of those charges?”

  After a moment, Kelly heard Judge Silver clear his throat. “Mr. Barnard. I am sorry, but you’ll have to speak up for the Court and the court reporter to create an accurate record.” Then he added, “Surely you know that as a trial lawyer yourself.”

  Kelly heard a muffled giggle from one of the journalists seated in the row in front of her.

  “Let’s start again, Mr. Barnard.” Judge Silver sounded tired.

  Kelly heard impatience and something else, possibly even scorn, in Judge Silver’s voice. As she heard him repeat his question about the arraignment process, Kelly looked around the room. Other than court personnel and counsel, Dan and herself, there were a dozen or so reporters in the room. They were scribbling notes and sketching drawings frantically, as laptops and cameras were forbidden. To her right she noticed an old woman, with a cardigan pulled tight over her tall, lumpy body. The woman’s face was wrinkled and her eyes looked straight at Barnard’s back. She had an expression of deep sorrow. Kelly tapped Dan’s shoulder to get his attention and whispered, “I wonder if that’s his mother over there.”

  Judge Silver slipped his glasses back on and began reading the charges on the documents before him. Kelly looked around the room as he did so, zoning out on the charges and losing herself in her observations of the courtroom. She noticed that the room was otherwise conspicuously absent of women. For a man who’d had many wives, girlfriends and mistresses, he certainly had little support from them. Except for the old woman, Barnard faced the consequences of his actions alone, as a solitary figure, his years of arrogant and cruel behavior resulting in isolation and loneliness.

  “Mr. Barnard.” Kelly’s attention was refocused to Judge Silver. “You have heard the charges against you just now read in this Court. Correct?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Barnard said. He looked up to make eye contact with the judge only after his counsel surreptitiously elbowed him.

  “And do you have any questions about those charges or do you understand what they mean?”

  “No, Your Honor, I have no questions.”

  “Good, then.” Judge Silver scratched his head with the hand holding the glasses. “And your counsel has informed you of the mandatory minimum and maximum penalty imposed by applicable laws, as well as any applicable sentencing guidelines, correct?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “And do you have any questions about those mandated sentence ranges and the sentencing guidelines?” Judge Silver looked up at Jack Barnard and waited for an answer.

  “Yes, I do, Your Honor.” Barnard’s voice got louder and he appeared to be a little indignant. “But I have an agreement for a certain sentence, a total sentence….”

  “Mr. Barnard,” Judge Silver cut him off mid-sentence. “We will get to that in due course. I am asking you now only if you understand the minimum and maximum penalty for each of the charges against you, and the sentencing guidelines used in Delaware.”

  “Uhm, yes, Your Honor, I understand that.”

  “Okay, Mr. Barnard, then this part is a bit of a formality, but bear with me. You understand that by entering a plea of guilty to the charges against you or to lesser charges by agreement of the Attorney General’s Office, that you waive your right to a trial, and you state here today that you do so with assistance of your counsel and of your own free will and volition?”

  Jack Barnard stood quietly for a moment, looking at the floor. Then he leaned over and whispered in the ear of his counsel. After his counsel whispered back, Barnard said, with a slight but noticeable hesitation, “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Barnard,” Judge Silver held up a stapled document as he spoke. “I have here the original plea agreement signed by you and by your counsel and signed by Deputy Attorney General Samuel D. Schultz, dated October 6, 2011.”

  Kelly glanced toward Sam at the judge’s mention of his full name. He stood very straight, in a well-fitted dark grey suit, with a confident but alert demeanor. She noticed for the first time that his hair was turning silver around the nape of his neck and that he looked even more gaunt than usual.

  Judge Silver continued, sounding almost weary with the process. “You are familiar with this written plea agreement and understand the proposed sentences?”

  Again, Barnard paused a moment to quietly confer with his counsel. Kelly noticed that the female attorney at the Defense’s table could merely nod her head each time, as Jack Barnard seemed to only seek advice from the man he had hired. “Yes, Your Honor, I am familiar with the terms. I have read the plea agreement.”

  “Fine, then.” Judge Silver cleared his throat. “And you understand that your plea of guilty is given in exchange for the Attorney General’s recommendation to the Court with regard to your penalty?”

  Judge Silver squinted and held up the document to read the specifics, and then he changed his mind and put his glasses back on. “In this case, specifically, a total of twenty-five years of incarceration Level 1, with no possibility of parole until a minimum of twenty years served at Level 1 incarceration?” The judge put the document back on his desk, removed his glasses and turned his gaze to Jack Barnard.

  “Yes, I understand that those are the terms of the plea agreement.” Jack Barnard said.

  “Spoken like a trial lawyer, Mr. Barnard,” Judge Silver said, with a perceived hint of disdain apparent in his voice again. “Well, here is the tricky part, Mr. Barnard. You understand the deal here,” the judge said as he tapped the document in front of him, “but I have to be real clear in ensuring that you understand that the Court may accept your plea of guilty—which you will be bound by—and yet the Court does not have to accept the recommended penalty that you and your counsel and the Attorney General’s Office have proposed in this written plea agreement.” The judge tapped the document again for emphasis. “You understand that, Mr. Barnard, correct?”

  Barnard shook his head, reluctantly.

  “I see you nodding your head affirmatively, Mr. Barnard, but I need you to voice your assent for the Court reporter. Is that a yes to my question?” The judge was growing impatient.

  His defense attorneys both quickly whispered to Barnard, admonishing him to be respectful to the judge who held his fate. Barnard stood straight and looked at the judge. “Yes, Your Honor, I understand.”

  “Good, then. With all of that agreed to and understood, do you still stand here and ask the Court to accept your plea of guilty to the charges as they are written in the plea agreement?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Barnard said quickly and clearly this time.

  “The Court will need to take a moment before sentencing. Let’s recess for fifteen minutes.” Judge Silver abruptly stood.

  “All rise,” the bailiff said, a moment too late, as the judge already turned and walked toward the door that he had used to enter the courtroom. Once the door was closed, the courtroom became a blur of motion. Reporters buzzed and chatted, and a few left for a quick bathroom or cigarette break. Jack Barnard sat at the defense table whispering with his counsel. At one point, Kelly saw him pause for a moment and look back at the old woman in the stretched cardigan. She pursed her lips and wiped a tear of
f of her cheek with her long, bony fingers.

  “What do you think?” Sam came over to speak with Kelly and Dan. His face was back to normal, with a grin of a college boy and a little mischief in his eyes.

  “I guess it’s pretty much what I expected.” Kelly said. Dan quietly nodded in agreement. “Except I thought there’d be someone here from Barnard’s side of things, you know, family or a friend.”

  “He is admitting to pretty horrific crimes, Kel. No one wants to be associated with him now.” He leaned in closer and whispered to Kelly and Dan. “Defense counsel told me that’s his mother over there though. I feel sorry for her.” Sam put his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “Well, I am going to take a quick trip to the bathroom before the judge returns.” Then as he turned to leave he said, “Oh, I almost forgot. This came up so quickly. Kelly, as the victim here, you have an opportunity to speak if you want to address Jack Barnard and the Court.”

  Kelly looked in horror at Sam, and then turned to Dan. He instinctively put his arm around Kelly’s shoulder and said, “Whatever you think, babe. You don’t have to do that unless it’s going to make you feel better.”

  “My God! Sam.” Kelly said, breathless with the dread rising fast in her throat and chest. “I don’t think I can do that, in front of reporters and Barnard. Even his mother is here.”

  “Okay, okay,” Sam said. It was just an option, not a requirement.”

  “Would it impact the sentence?” Kelly asked, with a worried look on her face. “I mean, will he be put away for a longer period if I tell the Court about how awful it was and how I was hurt?”

  “No, Kel,” Sam assured her. “The judge has already made up his mind about the sentence. I am sure of that. He’s very familiar with the crimes alleged and pleaded to, and he’s aware of the mountain of evidence to support the charges and warrant a conviction. You don’t need to tell him about it for him to get the full effect. It is more of a right of the victim, you know, being heard, getting closure or whatever you want to call it.”

  “I’ll pass, Sam.” Kelly linked her arm through Dan’s as she spoke.

  “All rise,” the bailiff said unexpectedly.

  “Oh well, there goes my pee break,” Sam whispered as he quickly moved to the prosecutor’s table. Kelly watched as he re-buttoned his suit jacket and straightened his back as he walked, transforming himself into his grown-up and serious courtroom persona.

  Judge Silver re-entered the room and took his seat at the bench, causing everyone in the courtroom to sit down quietly in unison. Barnard’s mother held her hands tightly on the back of the wooden bench in front of her, as her eyes silently pleaded with the judge for leniency.

  “The Court has considered the charges as described in the plea agreement, as well as the sentence recommended therein.” Judge Silver looked up for a moment, first at the throng of reporters sitting together, then at the Barnard’s mother sitting alone in the back, and then at Barnard. After a long pause with his eyes on Barnard, and to Kelly’s horror, the judge looked directly at Kelly. “One final consideration here before I address sentencing is, whether or not the victim would like to speak to the Court.”

  Kelly froze in horror, as all eyes turned to her. Barnard followed their gaze, twisting his body and then staring right at her. She heard a pounding in her head as her blood commenced fight or flight mode. She sat mute, while her face became an inferno. Dan squeezed her hand.

  “No, Your Honor,” Sam said as he rose in his place. “I have spoken to the victim and Ms. Malloy does not wish to address the Court.”

  A wave of relief flooded over Kelly as all eyes turned back to Sam as he spoke, and then back to Judge Silver. “Very well, then.” Judge Silver cleared his throat. “In the matter of The State of Delaware v. Jack C. Barnard, the Court imposes a sentence of twenty-five years of incarceration at Level I, with no possibility of parole until a minimum of twenty years served.”

  A murmur buzzed through the courtroom as people reacted to the sentence. Barnard’s counsel smiled in relief as Judge Silver accepted the sentence recommended in the plea agreement. “Quiet, please,” he spoke calmly and loudly over the din. The room became silent immediately. “Except that Defendant shall satisfactorily complete a course on anger management, as well as a course regarding physical and sexual abuse.”

  Barnard turned to look at Kelly. She glared back at him, suddenly emboldened.

  “Mr. Barnard!” Judge Silver bellowed, causing Barnard to spin around and face the bench. “Please keep your attention on the Court where it belongs. This is your life we are talking about.” Barnard’s male counsel quietly chastised him and then he again looked at his expensive watch, presumably so all could see that he had somewhere more important to be.

  Judge Silver spoke again. “Before we close this matter, I would like to say that I was reluctant to accept the sentence recommended in the plea agreement. I did so because it was warranted by the sentencing guidelines, and because it saved the State’s resources and prevented more pain and suffering by the victim. But, I would be remiss if I did not say that the misconduct that you have admitted to is abhorrent under any circumstances. And, when you consider that you are a member of the Delaware Bar, charged with upholding the law, and sworn to personally exemplify a higher standard of ethics, your admitted crimes are particularly unthinkable.” The judge shook his head slowly as he spoke, looking as if he was experiencing personal pain at the thought of the horrors that had been inflicted.

  Kelly felt a gentle wave of warmth as she listened to Judge Silver’s words. She did not feel alone anymore in her darkness. Today, in this courtroom, and perhaps tomorrow in the newspapers, Jack Barnard would be publicly reprimanded and finally revealed to be the monster that he was. Starting today, and for many years to come, he would be locked up alone with nothing but his despair and regret. In contrast, Kelly’s neighbors, co-workers, the moms at carpool, and the rest of the community around her would read Judge Silver’s words repeated in the newspaper and they would understand, like Judge Silver understood. Jack Barnard was the one to be ostracized, avoided and condemned. Kelly felt herself grinning from ear to ear, and she willed Barnard to turn around just once more so she could smile to his face.

  Judge Silver spoke again. “Do you want to say anything, Mr. Barnard, to the Court or to the victim?”

  Kelly’s heart pounded once again as Jack Barnard rose from his chair. He turned to face the back of the room. Kelly realized he was looking at the old woman.

  “I’m sorry, Ma.” Barnard cried as he spoke. The old woman trembled at his words, and she bit her lip and looked away from her son’s face to concentrate on a string of rosary beads in her hands.

  “Bastard!” Kelly heard Dan mumble.

  Kelly squeezed Dan’s hand and whispered, ‘It’s okay, babe. I don’t want his apology.”

  “Is that all you’d like to say?” Judge Silver asked, urging Jack Barnard to apologize to his victim.

  “Yes.”

  Barnard sat down in a heap, a defeated man.

  CHAPTER 36

  KELLY AND CHAD: OCTOBER 7, 2011

  KELLY WIPED A light film of perspiration off of her forehead and tried to regulate her breathing as she entered the Carvel State Office Building. She remembered climbing the steps to that same building a lifetime ago, to tell Sam Schultz that Jack Barnard was her rapist. She glanced at a directory on the wall, silently reading, Office of the Public Defender. She pushed upon the door to the PD’s office and took a breath to compose herself as she approached a woman behind a reception desk.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  “I have an appointment.” Kelly stammered.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “My name is Kelly Malloy and I’m here to see Stuart Harlan and a client of his, Chad McCloskey.”

  The receptionist rose from her chair. “Please come with me. Mr. Harlan has been expecting you.”

  As Kelly followed the receptionist down a hallway, she passed of
fices where lawyers and support staff were busy defending criminal defendants in Delaware. She marveled at the fact that it was a mirror image of the other office space, in that same building, where lawyers and support staff worked to prosecute those same criminal defendants.

  “Mr. Harlan,” the receptionist poked her head in an open office door, “Ms. Malloy is here to see you.”

  As Kelly entered the office, she saw a young man in a grey suit sitting behind a desk, and an even younger man—a kid, Kelly thought—sitting opposite the desk and wearing jeans and a T-shirt. They both sprang up as she entered the room.

  “Ms. Malloy,” the man in the suit spoke as he hurried around the desk to shake her hand, “It’s nice to meet you.” Kelly noticed that his jacket cuffs were fraying from use and that he needed a haircut. Looking at his face, Kelly guessed he was in his mid-twenties. “I’m Stuart Harlan, Public Defender and counsel to Mr. McCloskey here.”

  “It is nice to meet you.” Kelly said, shaking Stuart’s hand.

  Then Kelly looked over at Chad McCloskey. He had thick dark hair, a square jaw and large serious eyes. Dark circles under his eyes and hollows under his cheekbones revealed the trauma and stress of nine days in prison. She cleared her throat. “It is really nice to meet you too, Mr. McCloskey.”

  The young man in the jeans remained standing. “Please, you can call me Chad,” he said softly.

  “Thank you, Chad, you can call me Kelly.” Kelly cleared her throat again, nervously. “I know you are eager to be done with all of this, so I am grateful that you agreed to see me.” She noticed that Chad looked at the floor when she spoke to him. The bizarre and yet intimate nature of their first encounter in the gardener’s shed in the woods hung on them both, making conversation and movements feel unnatural. “I saw you both on the evening news Wednesday when you were released from prison. It was so wonderful to see you finally vindicated.”