Wall of Silence

by Dorey Whittaker

  “Susan, we’ve talked about that. The dread that comes over you is coming from deep within your subconscious. Your parents terrorized you with ‘don’t ever talk.’ Then the level of punishment that came when one of you did let something slip made you always a guarded person. Remember what I told you? Even though your parents can’t terrorize you anymore, your childhood tape is still playing in your head, setting off those feelings of dread whenever anyone gets close to your secrets.”

  “I know, Dr. Jacobson, but even though I know why I’m scared, that doesn’t stop the feelings. I wish I could turn off that tape in my head.”

  “Every time you reject its message, the tape gets quieter and quieter. You’ve lived in secret for a long time, Susan. You have to be patient and give yourself time to learn new life skills. In general, how do you think you’re doing?”

  Susan was kind of proud of herself. She was doing better than she expected she would. “Pretty well. We’re all tired. Actually, everyone is taking a nap right now. I’m doing pretty well on that subject. I’ve been tempted to take some naps lately, but I haven’t. I know it’s my way of escaping, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

  With a little laughter in her voice, Dr. Jacobson responded, “You know, sometimes when you’re sleepy, that’s all it is, you’re just sleepy. I think you’re strong enough to be able to tell the difference between escape sleep and pure exhaustion. You need to lighten up on yourself and give yourself permission to take a nap when you need one. Just because you had a problem with taking naps doesn’t mean you can never take a nap again.”

  The relief in Susan as she heard Dr. Jacobson say such an obvious truth was almost funny. She had been trying too hard. As Dr. Jacobson said goodbye, she ordered Susan to go join Scott for a nap, which she did willingly.

  Chapter 31

  After hearing what had been going on in the courtroom, Harry and Carol Anne quickly arranged to have his mother come down from Virginia. She would care for Michael and the twins so they both could attend the remainder of the trial. Mr. Thomas had decided that he would clear his calendar, checking in every evening, enabling him to be there with his family to show support for Lisa and Susan. Gladys was thankful for the much-needed distraction. Having four houseguests to feed and entertain made coming home from the courthouse a little more tolerable. The five of them, knowing Scott and Susan would need some time alone each evening, planned to take the children out of the house every night between five and seven. They felt so useless just sitting in court every day but knew this was one thing would help.

  Scott and Susan got dressed early Monday morning so they could spend at least an hour with Lisa before the trial started. Both women were dreading today’s testimony.

  Mr. Duncan came in with his cup of coffee a few minutes later to go over some last minute details. He knew today was probably going to be Lisa’s hardest day. Lisa hadn’t seen her mother in twenty-five years, and both she and Susan worried about how she would feel when she saw her. Duncan had done a good job filling them both in on their mother’s attitude and demeanor, knowing quite well what her answers were going to be.

  Then, as a final admonition, he said, “Lisa, it’s important you don’t react to your mother’s anger. The jury will be watching you, and if they see hate in your face, even if your mother really deserves it, they will turn on you. No matter what she says, or how she says it, you keep a pleasant look on your face.”

  Duncan was very good at what he did. Every single witness, whether his or Gordon’s, Duncan had studied, researched, questioned, and questioned again. He thought of every question Gordon could possibly ask and had an answer for it. It was his job to know how Gordon thought, and he had done his job.

  A few minutes later, the bailiff knocked on the door. Duncan got up to answer it and the bailiff whispered something to him. After closing the door, Duncan returned to his seat and announced, “Your mother just checked in with the court. They have her in a witness room ready to be called.”

  The two sisters glanced at each other. Susan was surprised at what a sick feeling it gave her to know her mother was there in the same building.

  Lisa raised her eyebrows and gave her sister a half-smile. “Here we go.”

  Bill, Caroline, Harry, Carol Anne, Aunt Gladys, and Mrs. Bascom were already sitting in the two rows right behind the defense table. Scott and Susan slipped into their seats and lowered their heads, half-praying while gathering their thoughts. While her head was bowed, Susan heard the familiar sound of the door creaking, which meant Ben was bringing Lisa into the courtroom.

  Lisa looked very nice. Aunt Gladys had made her a linen suit especially for today. She had stayed up until well after midnight almost every night the week before to finish it. It was a rich royal-blue, lined in a creamy, light-weight linen color. The blouse had a simple round neckline and was made of the same material as the lining. Aunt Gladys had also placed her favorite brooch on the left breast pocket. It was a prized gift from her husband, Karl, and she wanted Lisa to have it today. She wanted Lisa to look her very best when Marjorie Miller sat up in that witness box. She wanted Lisa to feel very special today. She wanted Marjorie Miller to see what a beautiful woman her daughter had become.

  Aunt Gladys had given the suit to Ben Jackson early that morning, and when Lisa walked out of the shower room dressed in that suit all he could do was smile.

  He needed to be careful what he said to Lisa when there were other officers around. Several had made comments about his obvious favoritism, and he didn’t want to give the captain any reason to re-assign him this close to the end of the trial. He whispered, “Lisa, you look very nice.”

  With a twinkle in her eyes, Lisa simply said, “Thank you, Officer Jackson. So do you.”

  He then took her elbow and led her to the courthouse. There was no way Ben Jackson was going to let any other officer take over this duty. He intended to keep his opinions to himself and guard his expressions because Lisa needed him to be there. Duncan estimated that the trial would go to the jury by that next Monday, and Ben had no intention of missing it.

  When they walked into the courtroom, everyone looked up and smiled at Lisa. As she took her seat, she thought about each one of these people sitting behind her, and she choked a little with emotion. She was so thankful for every one of them sitting there because they cared about her.

  Carol Anne leaned forward, tapped Lisa on the shoulder, and handed her a note. As Lisa unfolded it, she recognized the printing and smiled. The note was from Lisa Anne. She had drawn a picture for Auntie Lisa so she would know how much she loved her. It was two stick figures, one large and one small, both with smiles on their faces holding a cookie sheet with little round cookies on it. At the bottom she printed, “I love you, Auntie Lisa.”

  Lisa put the note up to her mouth and kissed it, and then placed it right in front of her on the table. She intended to focus on that note while her mother was in the witness box.

  As soon as the jury was seated, the court clerk called the court to order. Judge Kirkley came in and took his seat. He nodded a polite good morning to the jury, each attorney, Lisa, and then asked, “Mr. Duncan, are you ready to begin?”

  “Yes, sir, Your Honor. The defense calls Marjorie Miller to the stand.”

  Everyone waited as the bailiff stepped out the back door, walked to the witness room, and returned a minute later with the witness.

  Susan heard the door as its hinges squeaked and then the sound of footsteps coming down the aisle. She kept her eyes glued to the back of Lisa’s head as the steps passed her by. Lisa’s head never moved. They both could hear the sound of their mother stepping onto the wooden platform, and then the witness chair slightly scooted as she positioned herself in front of the microphone. Then, and only then, did Lisa’s head move. As she lifted her face and directed her eyes toward the witness stand, Susan allowed her eyes to follow.

  Susan was shocked at how old and tired their mother looked. It had been only eleven years, but h
er hair was very gray and her face gaunt. Susan wondered what Lisa must have been thinking. Their mother was still a young woman when she’d last seen her.

  Susan watched as Marjorie’s eyes looked over toward the defense table, and she took a long look at her first-born. There came a quick look of surprise, followed by a cold, hard stare. She then noticed her mother’s eyes begin to move across the row of people sitting right behind Lisa. She knew her mother was searching the crowd for her, and her mother’s eyes continued to move until they rested on her. Susan did not smile. She simply kept her eyes locked on her mother’s until Marjorie finally gave up and turned her gaze to Mr. Duncan. It was important to Susan that she show her mother she was no longer intimidated by her. She then took a deep breath and returned her attention to Lisa.

  After the clerk swore Marjorie Miller in, Duncan leaned forward with his forearms resting on the table and smiled at Marjorie. “Good morning, Mrs. Miller.”

  Without any facial expression, Marjorie Miller simply responded, “Good morning.”

  Still smiling at Marjorie, Duncan was intent on treating this witness as if she were an ally of the defense. After all, the jury would expect that the mother of the defendant would want to cooperate in her daughter’s defense. He intended to pour on the charm and catch the jury off guard when Marjorie, as he knew she would, started showing her true colors. “Your full name is Marjorie Miller. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  Duncan was glad to see Marjorie was still responding as she had during the deposition. Again, with a big smile, he asked, “Please tell the court your relationship to the defendant, Lisa Miller.”

  Without looking at Lisa, Marjorie simply stated, “She was my daughter.”

  Duncan shot a glance at the jury. He certainly hoped they had caught that “was” in her last response. “Mrs. Miller, can you tell the court how long it has been since you have seen or talked to your daughter, Lisa Miller?”

  Marjorie sat up straight, as if proud of the number, and said, “Twenty-five years.”

  Duncan looked at the jury as he asked the next question and kept his eyes on them as he waited for her answer. “My, twenty-five years is a long time not to see or talk with your daughter. Have you been living out of the country during those years, Mrs. Miller?”

  With as short and flat a response as she could muster, she said, “No.”

  “Well, Mrs. Miller, if you’ve not been living out of the country for the past twenty-five years, can you please tell the court where you have been living?”

  “Atlanta.”

  “That is Atlanta, Georgia?”

  “Yes. Atlanta, Georgia.” Her tone became irritated.

  “Well, Mrs. Miller, the court records show that your daughter, Lisa Miller, has lived in Jefferson, Georgia, for the past nineteen years; a mere sixty-one miles from Atlanta, Georgia. Can you possibly shed some light on what could have been the reason for a twenty-five-year estrangement between you and your daughter?” He watched as several jurors looked from Marjorie to Lisa and back to Marjorie, waiting for her answer.

  “She chose to leave. I let her.”

  Duncan took his legal pad, as if ready to write, trying to do the math. “How old was Lisa when she left home?”

  Remembering what Lisa’s running away had cost her, Marjorie turned and looked at Lisa as she said, “She ran away when she was seventeen.”

  Mr. Duncan continued to scribble on the pad, but Lisa could see his pen’s tip was retracted and he wasn’t really writing. The pad was already filled with detailed notes he had previously recorded.

  Suddenly, Duncan picked up the pad, stood up, and walked over in front of the witness stand. He was now only two or three feet from Marjorie Miller, looking directly into her face. “Mrs. Miller, you say your daughter ran away from home when she was seventeen years old, and you have not seen or spoken to her since. Were you aware of the fact that she was living here in Jefferson all this time?”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  Duncan was surprised that she was trying this same stupid play of words again. She had done this during the deposition also. “No, you were not aware that your daughter Lisa Miller was living sixty-one miles from you? Or no, you were not aware of this for that entire time? Which one is it, Mrs. Miller?”

  “I was not aware that she lived here the whole time. She ran away. I didn’t know where she went.”

  Duncan stood there looking at Marjorie for a moment. She really did not care what the jury thought of her. She was making no attempt to pretend she was anything but what she was, a cold, hate-filled woman. She was making his job very easy. “Mrs. Miller, what was your relationship to Mr. Charles Miller?”

  “He was my husband.”

  “Were you aware of the beating Charles Miller inflicted on Lisa Miller, your daughter, which resulted in his going to prison?”

  Duncan was hoping she would answer this same question just as she had during the deposition, only this time his next few questions were going to be different. “Yes, I knew. I lost my house because of it.”

  Duncan, pretending to have great concern for her loss, asked. “Oh, what was the cause of your losing your home, Mrs. Miller? Were you helping Lisa Miller with her hospital care after that beating?”

  Duncan was looking from juror to juror, thinking, Come on, jury, remember those pictures of Lisa. Remember the beating Gordon so vividly laid before you on Friday. Think! Remember!

  Duncan’s eyes stayed on the jury as Marjorie Miller said, “No, we sold the house to pay for Chuck’s lawyer.”

  Bingo! Duncan thought. “So, Mrs. Miller, at the time of the beating, you were aware that your daughter was living here in Jefferson. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, I knew she was here, but only after that.”

  Duncan stepped a little closer, as if he was having a hard time hearing her. “That? That what, Mrs. Miller? You knew she was here after what?” He wanted her to say it. He needed her to say it. He was going to make Marjorie Miller say it. “After what, Mrs. Miller?”

  She glared at him as she answered. “After Chuck beat Lisa.”

  Duncan walked back to his seat, wanting the jury to again look past him and see Lisa sitting there, a real person, not just a name. “Mrs. Miller, you obviously knew about the trial. You lost your house because of it. Did anyone call and tell you your daughter was in a life-threatening condition after that beating?”

  “Yes. The police called me, and so did the hospital.”

  Duncan leaned forward with his head resting on his right hand. “Yet you never bothered to come sixty-one miles to see your daughter? Can you explain to the court why you did not come?”

  Marjorie sat back in the seat, put her hands down on the chair’s arms, and looked over at Mr. Duncan. He could feel it coming. Marjorie was beginning to boil, and he intended to keep her thinking about how much she hated Lisa so the jury would see this.

  “I didn’t want to see her. She got what she deserved. Why should I come here and see her?”

  “Mrs. Miller, I’m confused. Maybe you were not made aware of how severe that beating was. I’m sorry, you were not in the courtroom when the doctor reviewed the hospital records of all of Lisa’s injuries because of that beating. Maybe you were misled and never knew the serious nature of that beating.”

  Marjorie’s response was as cold as ice. “No. My other daughter went down to see her. She told me.”

  “You have another daughter besides Lisa Miller?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is her name.”

  “Susan Miller.”

  “Excuse me? Is Susan Miller your other daughter’s current name?”

  “No. Her married name is Thomas. Susan Thomas.”

  “So, your daughter Susan Thomas told you about the severe beating your daughter Lisa received at the hands of your husband, Charles Miller, and you say she deserved it! Mrs. Miller, will you please tell this court what Lisa Miller could possibly have done to deserve a beating like tha
t?”

  It had been fourteen years since Marjorie had heard about Chuck beating up Lisa. Fourteen years of her having to wait before she was finally able to tell Lisa just how glad she was that Lisa had finally gotten hers, and she was going to enjoy this. She didn’t care what any of these people thought of her. Leaning forward, making sure Lisa was looking at her, Marjorie unloaded years of hate. “Lisa, when you ran away you didn’t care what kind of hell you were putting me in. The police were coming to our house every night, for almost two months, pushing your father around, asking questions, making him mad. After the California police said they had found you out there, the police finally left us alone, just long enough for your dad to beat me so bad I almost died. I almost died getting a beating intended for you, so why should I feel sorry for you when you finally got yours? I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”

  Susan watched the jury as they studied Marjorie’s distorted face. Several of the men had a look of pure disgust while several of the older women glanced at Lisa with a look of sympathy. Susan couldn’t see Lisa’s face and wondered how she was holding up.

  Duncan continued to question Marjorie Miller for almost two hours, asking her to comment on numerous police reports of domestic disturbance calls to their home over the years. He was painting a picture of violence for the jury, showing them what Chuck Miller really was capable of. He was also exposing a picture of a mother who had no love or concern for the suffering her children went through. Hers were self-centered, pity-me, see-how-I-suffered comments.

  As the noon hour approached Duncan sat back in his seat and announced that he was temporarily through with this witness. “Your Honor, I’ll be needing to recall this witness at a later time, so I request the court order her to remain in the courtroom until needed.”

  Judge Kirkley turned his gaze on Marjorie Miller, and said as coldly as he could, “Mrs. Miller, please remain seated until the jury has been dismissed. Then after lunch, the prosecution will have an opportunity to cross-examine you. When he is through, you are to remain seated over there until recalled. Do you understand?”