“No, I only saw her walking toward the studio.”
“Thank you.”
Josie sat down. While Mrs. Peterson returned to her seat Josie surreptitiously looked at Hannah. The girl’s eyes were sad and blank. Her Valium lethargy was passing, though it was still evident. When Kip Rayburn was called to the stand Hannah stiffened, her eyes sought Josie’s. Then, as Kip swore to tell the truth, Hannah Sheraton’s eyes turned downward. She couldn’t look.
19
HOSTILE WITNESS - An adverse witness who is known to offer prejudicial evidence as a result of adverse interest or bias. - Black’s Law Dictionary
When Emily Baylor-Bates abandoned her daughter, the marine families closed rank. Josie was transferred to the home of a girl who qualified as her best friend by virtue of the fact that they had arrived in Hawaii at the same time. It took her father three days to get home and, in those three days, Josie imagined her father would blame her for driving Emily away.
But on a warm evening, just around dinnertime, Josie’s father appeared. He reached out his hand and with that one gentle gesture he made the world right, made her part of a family again.
That wasn’t the way things would play for Hannah. Kip didn’t acknowledge her. Hannah listed to the left, her shoulder touching Josie’s ever so slightly. She was looking up, right at Kip, telegraphing her anxiety as she knocked the table from underneath. Twenty times. Pause. Knocking again. To Josie it sounded like thunder but no one seemed to notice. Every eye was on the witness
“Mr. Rayburn, what is your relationship to the victim?”
“He was my father.”
“And what is your relationship to the defendant.”
“She is my wife’s daughter.”
“Mr. Rayburn, are you testifying of your own free will?”
“Yes, I am.”
Josie moved in her seat. This was a powerful salvo. Rudy did not want anyone mistaking Kip Rayburn’s testimony as hostile or less truthful because he was connected to the defendant.
“Given your relationship to the defendant, do you feel that you can answer my questions truthfully?”
”I will answer your questions truthfully. My father believed in the sanctity of the law, and so do I.”
“Mr. Rayburn, given the circumstances, do you feel animosity toward the defendant?”
“No, sir,” Kip answered.
Satisfied, Rudy moved another step closer to the witness.
“Can you describe the relationship your father had with Hannah Sheraton?”
“Objection, Your Honor. The witness cannot attest to such a relationship,” Josie objected.
“Mr. Rayburn and his wife and stepdaughter lived in the victim’s home, and Justice Rayburn interacted as part of the family. Kip Rayburn can testify to the dynamic of his own household,” Rudy argued.
“I’ll allow it within reason, Mr. Klein. Your objection is overruled, Ms. Bates.”
Rudy gave the bench a perfunctory nod.
“Mr. Rayburn? Can you tell us about the relationship between your father and Hannah Sheraton?”
“Over time, my father became very interested in Hannah’s welfare. He believed that Hannah was an extraordinarily talented artist and wanted to see her reach her full potential.”
“And how did he show his interest?” Rudy asked.
“My father spent a great deal of time with Hannah when he was home. He talked about art. He explained his collection to her. He bought her gifts to enhance her talent: books and paints, and such. He offered to take her to museums when his schedule allowed.”
“And how did the defendant react to this attention?”
“I think Hannah enjoyed being the center of attention at first.”
“Objection,” Josie called. “The witness cannot know what was in my client’s mind.”
“Sustained,” Judge Norris intoned.
“Mr. Rayburn,” Rudy went on. “Isn’t it true that the defendant’s attitude toward your father was antagonistic?”
“Eventually Hannah became belligerent when my father was in Los Angeles. She would become angry. She told my wife she didn’t want him in the house.”
“And what did you think about that?”
“I thought it was strange considering it was our home –my father’s and mine. She had only been living with us for a short time. Her attitude was appalling given how generous my father had been.”
“Did the defendant give you a reason for feeling this way?”
“She said he watched her. He always seemed to be around. She liked her independence. She complained about many things.”
“Did Justice Rayburn do those things? I refer to watching Hannah Sheraton.”
“I’m ashamed to say he took more of an interest in her than I did. He was very attentive. Perhaps if I realized the depth of her anger toward authority figures my father would still be alive.”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Josie raised her hand, disgusted with Kip’s answer. He was going out of his way to point his finger at Hannah. “The witness is not the jury and can draw no such conclusion. Move to strike.”
Judge Norris ordered the strike and Kip cleared his throat. He touched his tie but didn’t adjust it. There wasn’t a tremor in his voice, and his eyes remained steadily on Rudy.
“Was Justice Rayburn ever concerned for his own safety?” Rudy asked.
Kip shook his head. “No. Never. Even though I think he should have been.”
“Why is that?”
“I initially believed a relationship would be good for both of them. I didn’t have the artist’s eye that my father held in high esteem. I was happy to see he had someone to share his interest.” Kip tipped his chin a little higher, his lips turned up in what passed as a smile. “I seldom saw him when he was home anymore. But Hannah was young, she needed his attention. My father understood that Hannah’s mother and I were busy.”
Rudy let Kip transgress but even he couldn’t ignore the sound of a beat that had, by now, become familiar to everyone in the room. The upper part of Hannah’s arms rested against the tabletop. Underneath her clasped hands hit up on the wood, working diligently as if she could break through it and find her freedom. Her hair had spilled over her shoulders; her eyes were trained on Kip. Anger radiated off her. Josie could feel it, hoped the jury wouldn’t sense it.
Kip ignored Hannah and the sounds but every now and again, a small muscle in Rudy’s neck spasmed in sync with the knocking. Judge Norris shifted on the bench, unhappy with the distraction. Josie slipped her hand under the table, putting it between Hannah’s fists and the wood. Without missing a beat, Hannah hit Josie and Josie took the blows on her warm, soft palm.
“When did you first notice the relationship between your father and the defendant change?” Rudy filled the silence quickly, unwilling to be distracted.
“Hannah had been with us almost a year. It was summer. She started to be disrespectful to my father. She was rude. She preferred staying in the room she used as her painting studio. Hannah went out and stayed out late if she wasn’t painting. There was an older boy who did not go to school. Hannah started seeing him. He was unkempt. He looked like a transient.”
“And what was your father’s reaction to Hannah’s behavior?”
“He told me not to worry. He told me she would settle down.”
“Did something happen to change your father’s mind?”
He found Hannah and this man in his bedroom. They had been drinking. My father had come back unexpectedly from San Francisco. They had gone through his things. Hannah had an antique pocketknife my father treasured. She held the knife on him long enough for the man to run away. I wanted to call the police but my father didn’t want to press charges. He was extremely concerned about her at that point. He took it upon himself to help her. My father cared very deeply what happened to Hannah.”
Josie listened carefully, and was suddenly aware that Hannah had stopped knocking. Josie cast a quick glance her way, sensing a rising anxiety
in Hannah. She was reassured to see the girl sitting quietly, moving a pencil through her fingers under the table. When she stayed silent, Josie clasped her hands and leaned toward the witness as Rudy continued.
“How did your father help the defendant?”
“He spent even more time with Hannah. My father arranged and paid for treatment. He sent her to some of the finest rehabilitation facilities available. My father was extraordinarily compassionate. I’d never seen him that concerned about a child – any child.” Kip’s voice caught. It was as if his childhood was suddenly coming into focus. He put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. He apologized, “Sorry.”
Rudy reassured him with a smile.
“How did the defendant react to Justice Rayburn’s attempts to help her?”
“She ran away from the rehabilitation center. Every conversation was an argument. She stole my wife’s car. The police found her approaching the Mexican border in San Diego – with that same man. She started smoking marijuana. She began cutting herself. She was always angry. Hannah was either very verbal, or totally withdrawn. It was difficult to know what to do.”
“Mr. Rayburn,” Rudy stepped forward to wrap things up. “Did you ever see or hear the defendant threaten your father after the incident with the knife?”
Kip’s eyes trailed to Hannah and she seemed to shrink, huddling under the blazer like it was a tent. Her head shook in miniature movements, silently denying Kip’s testimony or begging him to say nothing more. With no sign that Hannah moved him, Kip Rayburn looked away.
“The defendant screamed at my father that she wished he were dead. She said he would get what was coming someday. That he should just wait.” Kip’s gaze snapped back to Hannah. He struggled to keep the loathing from his voice. “After all that he had done for her. She wanted him dead. I thought it was a figure of speech. I was wrong.”
“Your Honor!”
Josie shot out of her chair ready to object. Rudy looked over his shoulder. Judge Norris swiveled toward the defense. It wasn’t Josie they focused on, but Hannah. She was rising from her seat, tears poured from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her body vibrated and shuddered.
“I didn’t. . .” she said sharply, her fury directed toward everyone. “I didn’t want him d-dead.” She tipped her head back as if she could reverse the flow of her tears. “I just said it. I didn’t do anything to him...” A second more ticked away, and then the silence of the courtroom was ripped by gut wrenching sobs. Her teeth gnashed together as if she could bite off her words. Her hair whipped in front of her face, her eyes blazed at the jury, the judge and then at Kip. Her voice rose and she demanded everyone in the room listen “I just wanted. . .him. . . to. . .leave me. . . alone.”
Over and over again she said it, one fist pounding on the table in rhythm. No longer passive and content to have Josie fight for her, Hannah reached for her mother. The blazer fell from her shoulders. Her arm shot out, she pointed at Linda.
“Mom! Tell them now. Don’t let do this. He is lying. You know he’s lying. ”
Paralyzed, Linda stared open mouthed at her daughter. A juror suppressed a cry. Another looked away. Someone gasped. Reporters scribbled trying to describe the bloody mess that was Hannah Sheraton’s left arm, trying to explain how a common pencil could become a gruesome weapon of self-mutilation. There was no razor blade but there was no stopping the pain and rage inside Hannah Sheraton from getting out.
Suddenly, the bailiff lunged. Hannah reacted, striking out at him. Off guard, he stumbled back only to come at her again. Linda screamed. Kip shot straight up out of the witness chair but made no move to help.
It was Josie, taller than the bailiff, more determined to do what was right, who pulled a thrashing Hannah to her, felt the blood wet her blouse, and did what had to be done. Stumbling with her client toward the bench, Josie led Hannah past Judge Norris as she said:
“I’d like to request a recess.”
20
“I should have been a mechanic like my father.” - Judge Cy Norris to his clerk upon leaving the bench.
Josie once dated an emergency room doctor. She loved his wickedly dark sense of humor, his goatee, and the way he cooked. She didn’t like the fact that being near a body of water larger than a bathtub made him seasick, and he wanted to have a house in the suburbs filled with children.
They had parted ways after a year but Josie always remembered something he said. A great deal of blood could come from just one wound. Once you found the wound, you could make a decision about what to do: work to save the poor bastard or let God deal with it.
In the windowless holding cell off Norris’s courtroom Josie leaned up against the wall and looked for Hannah’s wound while someone else cleaned up the blood. The jurors were at lunch, though she doubted they had an appetite. Judge Norris called a doctor, advised he would expect Josie back in the courtroom for her cross, and gave permission for Hannah to be excused in the company of her mother to seek further medical attention – mental or physical. Josie sent back her thanks. He was not only a kind man he was a smart one who wanted to control his courtroom now that the floodgates had been opened: Hannah being half carried away, blood everywhere, Linda barred from the room as Hannah became ever more hysterical, while crying that she was so sorry. So sorry.
For the last ten minutes, though, all had been quiet. The doctor who had responded to Judge Norris’s call was an older woman, unfazed by what she found. She spoke little, did her work well, and bandaged Hannah’s arm with great care before she left. Hannah’s arms were crossed on the tabletop, her head resting on them, and her eyes were closed. It was the first time Josie had seen her completely at rest. No tapping, no counting, worn out, and psychically and emotionally exhausted.
Josie watched her thoughtfully and counted her own failings. She had seen a hundred other clients proclaim their innocence, fall into despair, cry and wail against the system. At one time in her life, Josie had been able to gauge guilt in a split second. It had been a talent left dormant, a dull blade that no longer sliced easily through a client’s guile – until now. Now Josie believed what she saw: Hannah was only a poor, confused girl who had sealed her own fate, whether guilty or not. Finally Josie pushed herself away from the wall. It was time to probe for Hannah’s real wound.
“We’re okay here.” Quietly, Josie dismissed the bailiff. He hesitated but eventually left them alone. Josie touched the door as it closed behind him then pulled a chair close to Hannah and laid her hand atop the girl’s head.
“Hannah, come on. We’ve got to talk.”
Hannah’s lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened. She stared, but saw nothing. It was another minute, maybe two before Hannah found the energy to speak.
“I’m sorry about your shirt. I’m sorry about everything.”
“Forget the shirt.” Josie petted Hannah, smoothing her hair, talking quietly. “It’s the everything we need to talk about. Can you sit up? Can you talk to me?”
Hannah’s body trembled. She raised her head. It was so hard for her. Finally she sat up. Her hands fell to her sides. She looked at the bandages.
“I don’t even remember doing it. I just remember Kip talking and talking.”
“Hannah do you want your mother to come in while we get things settled?” Josie asked.
Hannah shook her head. “No. She’ll just say she was right all along. I should have done what she said. I should have gone to the hospital but I wanted to show her I was strong, too. I wanted to be strong like her.” A pitiful sob bubbled up and escaped. Just one. She put her fingers to her lips. “I just couldn’t listen to him anymore.”
“Your mom is worried, not upset. We’re all worried about you,” Josie whispered.
“When you see her, tell her I’ll be good from here on. I promise. I don’t want to go to jail. I want to go home with my mom.”
“That’s what we need to decide Hannah.” Josie cleared her throat. It was tough to say this. “I think we need to cut our losses here.”<
br />
Josie fell silent. It was hard to think. If Hannah was unbalanced enough to hurt herself that badly, in such a horrific manner, then what could she have done to Fritz . . .
“Josie, why haven’t you ever asked me if I’m innocent?” Hannah leaned close as if she knew what Josie was thinking.
Josie chuckled darkly. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms to look at her client. She told her the truth.
“Because I was being a good defense attorney. If I asked you and you told me you were guilty, I couldn’t put you on the stand if I had to. If I knew you were going to lie, I’d be suborning perjury. No defense attorney ever asks that question.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
“I thought I did know, Hannah.” Josie held Hannah’s gaze.
“Until now, is that it?” The last flicker of hope drained out of Hannah’s eyes when Josie didn’t answer. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“No, you don’t. I still don’t think you deliberately killed Fritz Rayburn. I’ll never believe that. But Hannah, nothing is ever black and white. People can look at the same thing and see it differently. You could swear you were innocent and those people in that room would look at the evidence and be sure you’re guilty. It’s a huge risk we’re taking now that this has happened.”
“But everything’s going to be okay, right?”
Josie lightly touched Hannah’s arm. “If you can do this to yourself, then there are really deep problems you have to contend with. I’m going to ask for a continuance. I want you to talk with some doctors. I want the jury to take a breather because what happened just now isn’t going to help. Hannah, I couldn’t live with myself if I screwed up and put you in jail when your mother was right all along and you need treatment.”
Hannah clutched at Josie’s hands, missing and trying again until she had them in both her own.
“Please, please don’t give up on me. Josie, you can’t. I know you don’t want to know, but I didn’t start the fire. I hit Fritz. Okay? I mean, I think I did. I know I pushed him. I did that. I was in his bedroom. I did scream at him. That’s all the truth. I should have told you before, but I didn’t think it was important. I thought the fire was important.” Hannah pulled on Josie’s hands like a child wanting an adult to see things her way. “I didn’t see him fall and hit his head. I didn’t set the fire. I didn’t kill him. I just wanted to get away from him.”
Hostile Witness Page 16
