by Judith Pella
“I call to the stand,” Mr. Cranston said, “Miss Margaret Newcomb.”
Her knees were shaky as she walked toward the witness box and her right hand trembled when she placed it on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. All thought of lying fled from her in that moment.
“Miss Newcomb,” Cranston began, “please tell us your relationship to the accused.”
“He’s a friend. We went to school together,” Maggie replied.
She tried to block from her mind the awful rumors that there was more to their friendship. But her stomach knotted in fear that Mr. Cranston might try to exploit this.
“But you have been out of school for over a year, have you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yet, you have still maintained your friendship.”
“Yes. I’m friends with everyone I went to school with,”
Maggie said smugly.
“Of course,” Cranston replied dryly. “We have established in this court, if nothing else, that Tommy Donnelly was not the most respected or trusted person in the community . . .”
He paused, perhaps expecting an objection from Evan. But there was none.
Cranston continued, “Therefore, I must ask, why is it that you remained friendly with this boy who could not have been the best influence? Did your parents support this . . . ah . . . friendship—”
“Objection!” Evan jumped to his feet.
“On what grounds?” the judge asked.
“Well . . . I just don’t like the sound of his voice,” Evan replied.
His tone was hesitant. He probably realized belatedly that the last thing he ought to do was draw attention to the rumors to which Cranston was obviously making a subtle reference.
“Overruled. But, Mr. Cranston, do please watch your tone,” said the judge, his own tone sounding rather snide.
“Of course, Your Honor. I certainly don’t wish to bring aspersion upon my own witness.” There was amusement in Cranston’s voice. He’d made his point and nothing would wipe it from the jury’s memory. “So, Miss Newcomb, your parents approved of this friendship with Tommy?”
“Not exactly. But—”
“You continued to interact with Tommy despite their displeasure?”
“Yes. But—”
“Objection!” Evan exclaimed, again springing to his feet. “Why doesn’t the prosecution let the witness complete a sentence? She is his witness, isn’t she?”
“Overruled. As I understand it, she is a hostile witness,” the judge replied.
“Is that why the prosecution must manipulate her answers?” Evan asked.
“You’ll have your turn with the witness, Mr. Parker, but in the meantime please watch your tone,” reminded the judge. “Now, please sit.”
Cranston resumed. “How close were you and Tommy Donnelly?”
“Objection!” Evan cried again.
“Mr. Parker,” the judge said with undisguised displeasure, “please refrain from these unfounded objections. One might think she was a defense witness, the way you feel you must protect her.”
Evan slumped back in his chair, an almost imperceptible pout on his face.
“Would you please answer the question, Miss Newcomb?” the judge requested.
“I saw him once or twice a week,” Maggie replied. “He told me I was his only real friend. And I liked his company because he didn’t mind that I liked fishing and hiking better than stitching and cooking.”
“What activities did you pursue when you were together?”
“We mostly went fishing when the weather was nice. Or hunting. We both liked the outdoors. That was all!” she added, almost daring the man to contradict her.
“Did you talk?” Cranston asked, ignoring her final remark. Maggie wished he would just get to the point and quit dragging her through the wringer like this. She had a feeling it was as much to agitate Evan as it was to interrogate her.
“Some,” Maggie replied. “Tommy isn’t a big talker. We mostly just fished and enjoyed the peace and quiet. Sometimes we talked about news and such and occasionally about our problems.”
“I can’t imagine a well-brought-up girl such as yourself could have many problems, at least that would be pertinent to this case. However, I would be interested to hear what problems the defendant revealed.”
Maggie looked desperately at the judge. “Your Honor, do I have to tell things that were told me in confidence?”
“Yes, Miss Newcomb. Only a doctor, a lawyer, or a man of the cloth has the privilege of confidentiality. Answer the question please.”
“Well, then . . .” She hesitated. As much as she wanted to get to the point, she was also dreading that moment. “Tommy talked about things that happened at home.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“His father.” Maggie had tried studiously to avoid looking at the defense table, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Tommy stir and Evan lay a hand on his arm.
“Yes . . . ?” prompted Mr. Cranston.
“He’d tell me about his father beating him and calling him names.”
“Did you ever see the father beat his son?”
“No. But—”
“That’s good enough.” As Cranston spoke, Maggie noted Evan was now about to make a move, but a sharp look from the judge forced him to refrain. Cranston added quickly, “So you have only the defendant’s word regarding the abuse?”
“He had a fat lip once or twice!” Maggie said quickly before the man could cut her off again.
Cranston smiled. “I suppose Tommy never fought with anyone else in the community.”
“Sure he did! The other boys were always making fun of him and egging him on.”
“So those wounds you saw could have been from these fights, could they not?”
Maggie groaned inwardly, realizing her error. Gamely she replied, “Maybe, but—”
“Now, then—”
Frustrated with his constant interruptions when she wanted to explain an answer that could be misunderstood, she now assertively talked right over Cranston. “But I know the bruises were from his father!” she blurted.
Cranston arched a brow. “Please, Miss Newcomb, a simple yes or no is adequate unless I ask for more elaboration.”
“Your Honor,” Evan put in, “the way the prosecution is handling this witness is a travesty!”
“Your protest is duly noted, Mr. Parker,” said the judge, only as a matter of form, she was certain, not because he agreed.
“Continue, Mr. Cranston.”
“Miss Newcomb, let’s recall the day of June twenty-first of this year. There was an altercation that day between the defendant’s father and the supposed minister, whom we now know as Mr. Zack Hartley. Can you tell the court what happened on that day?”
“I wasn’t there to see it,” Maggie said smugly. “So it would be hearsay.” She risked a glance at Evan, and he offered her a faint smile.
“But you can tell us what the entire community knows of the incident.”
Maggie shrugged. She may as well not fight it. “That day Zack called at the Donnelly house, and I guess Mr. Donnelly tried to kick him off the property. Anyway, it ended up in a fight in which Zack knocked Mr. Donnelly out cold.”
“The defendant saw the altercation. Correct?”
“Yes. He told me about it later.”
“What else did he tell you?”
Maggie took a breath. She had to practically force out every word. “He told me he had never believed his father could get beat—”
Tommy instantly sprang to his feet. “Maggie, no!” he implored. A murmur rose from the spectators. This was the kind of drama they had come to see.
“Mr. Parker,” ordered the judge, “restrain your client, or the court will be forced to do so.”
“Tommy, sit down,” Evan pleaded, grasping his arm and giving it a tug.
Tommy wrenched his arm away. “Don’t you say nothing, Maggie, or you ain’t my friend no more!”
“
Tommy, sit down!” Evan said with more authority. “Now!”
Tommy hesitated a moment before slumping back into his chair. He continued to glare at Maggie, however. Evan leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was seemed to settle him a little.
“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Maggie murmured.
“Did Tommy say anything else about that incident?” Mr. Cranston asked.
“Yes.” Let him drag it from me, Maggie decided.
“Tell the court what Tommy said.”
She glanced toward the defense table. Tommy’s hostility made her heart quake, but Evan offered her a look of encouragement. She had to trust that he would somehow make everything all right.
“Tommy told me . . . well, that he wasn’t afraid of his father anymore after seeing him get beat. He said . . . the next time his father pushed him, he was going to push back.” Maggie couldn’t look at Tommy, but she could feel his angry glower.
Her words caused another buzz of voices to ripple through the spectators.
“Order!” demanded the judge, and when there wasn’t immediate quiet, he banged his gavel on his bench and said louder, “I will have order in the court, or the spectators will be removed!”
That brought the desired effect. Quiet descended.
Maggie realized her words also created the desired effect. That is, the effect the prosecutor hoped for. Everyone, including the jury, would have to consider her testimony as a real motive for murder.
“And,” Cranston said, “less than a month later, Tom Don-nelly was dead—”
“Objection!” cried Evan. “Counsel is—”
“I know what the prosecution is doing,” the judge interrupted. “That last comment is to be stricken from the record, and the jury is instructed to ignore it.”
Mr. Cranston had made his point nonetheless. “That will be all, Miss Newcomb,” he said.
“The defense may cross-examine,” said the judge.
Evan rose. “Good afternoon, Miss Newcomb,” he said formally. Maggie had expected nothing less. “I will try to make this brief. The day is waning, and I am sure everyone is growing weary. But can you tell me something regarding the defendant’s remark about not letting his father push him anymore? Was that the first time he ever made such a statement to you?”
Good question, Evan! Maggie silently cheered. “No, as a matter of fact it wasn’t. He often said how he’d like to hit his father back.”
“So this most recent statement didn’t seem any more serious to you than the others?”
“No, not at all.”
“As our learned prosecutor so aptly pointed out, nearly a full month passed between the conversation you described and the untimely death of Mr. Tom Donnelly. Did you have opportunity to see young Tommy in that time?”
“Yes, though not as much as usual. It was a . . . uh . . . kind of a busy time.” Maggie hoped Evan didn’t question her about this because she really didn’t want him to know that she’d been busy throwing herself at the new minister. “I saw him at church,” she added, thinking this ought to help Tommy.
“What did his demeanor seem like at this time?”
“Objection,” Cranston said. “The question requires a subjective judgment from the witness that she has no real expertise to make.”
“But, Your Honor,” Evan argued, “it has been established that Miss Newcomb was the defendant’s close friend, and by his admission, his only ‘real’ friend. I would think she’d be the best person to make such a judgment.”
Judge Olsen nodded. Maybe he was a fair judge after all!
“I’m going to overrule the objection in the interest of illuminating an important aspect of these proceedings. I believe Miss Newcomb is a fair and honest young woman and will give the court a true assessment of her observations. But I will instruct the jury to keep in mind that these are, in fact, only subjective observations. Answer the question, Miss Newcomb.”
She almost forgot what the question was, then just as Evan was about to remind her, she remembered. “Oh yes, his demeanor. He was pretty normal.”
“He did not appear more embittered or sinister than in the past?”
“Goodness, no! He never was any of those. I mean he may have complained about his father, but he never was white-hot mad. When he did get a little angry, it was gone in a few minutes, and he was back to talking about the catch of the day or something. Tommy has always been a pleasant, good-natured person.” She felt great relief at being able to say her piece uninterrupted. She silently thanked Evan for that.
“You mentioned that he had started attending church,” Evan said. “How was his attitude there?”
“He was glad to attend. His father was very hostile about church, and that was one of the reasons he beat Tommy. If Tommy went to church, he was sure to expect a thrashing later.” Maggie brightened as she realized something. “That was the true result of the incident between Zack and Mr. Donnelly. It gave Tommy the courage to defy his father and attend church. To do the right thing instead of all the bad things his father made him do. Tommy wanted to go to church because he wanted to be a better person.”
Though Evan was maintaining a serious, formal façade, Maggie could see a brief glimmer of pleasure flit across his expression. Perhaps she was now actually helping Tommy more than her previous testimony hurt him.
Evan put forth a few more questions about Tommy’s actions in the weeks and days before Tom’s death, then he thanked Maggie, and she was excused from the stand.
Then, as she suspected, Mr. Cranston, with great flourish, said, “Your Honor, the prosecution rests!”
“The afternoon is nearly gone,” Judge Olsen said, “so we will hear the defense’s case tomorrow. Court is adjourned for the day.”
After the judge exited and everyone was dismissed, Maggie found herself immediately surrounded by friends and family, all praising her and telling her how proud she had made them. Of course she was pleased, especially by her parents’ support, but all she really wanted to do was get to Evan, who, much to her disappointment, hadn’t joined the well-wishers. In fact, he had quickly gathered his papers into his leather satchel and all but raced from the courtroom.
How she wanted to run after him! But she couldn’t be rude to these people who were showing her such kindness. Yet that wasn’t the biggest reason for her not following her impulse. She could not forget the scene earlier in the alley. Evan had been humiliated, and she didn’t want to risk a repeat should she find him in similar circumstances. Moreover, tomorrow he would begin to present his case. He needed to focus. He did not need to be distracted by her. But she found more and more that she greatly missed those lovely days when she and Evan had been easygoing friends.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Evan took two days to present his case. His witnesses were a varied list of friends, mostly Mrs. Donnelly’s, and neighbors who generally painted a picture of Tommy as a troubled boy with bad habits influenced by a father who was far less than an ideal model. They all agreed he was respectful to his elders and did not display violent tendencies except when defending himself against the taunts of his peers.
Since these witnesses were all upstanding, mostly churchgoing citizens, the prosecution had a difficult time tarnishing their testimony. Cranston did make such an attempt with Zack, but Zack withstood the barrage against his character with grace and forbearance.
Dad’s testimony was the best because he made it clear he did not approve of Tommy’s behavior or of Tommy’s friendship with his daughter. But he never truly believed Maggie was in danger around the boy. He was also one of three people who had examined the scene of Tom’s death immediately after the incident. Boyd was another, as was the sheriff. But Dad brought out something that the sheriff had failed to mention. There were several trees in the clearing in the woods where the killing had occurred that were badly chewed up by gunfire, trees behind the area where Tom’s body had been found, and trees behind a spot where another shooter appeared to have stood. The marks
were random, almost haphazard, as if fired wildly. This, along with Dad’s description of a couple of empty jugs of moonshine, supported the suspicion that a drunken melee had taken place there.
Cranston, of course, tried to discount these observations. But Evan recalled the sheriff to the stand. He was forced to agree with Dad. Maggie thought Evan did marvelously and had made one of the most important points of the trial. The gunplay was wild and would certainly give a person reason to fear for his life. Also, the parties involved were most likely drunk and not in complete command of their actions.
Mama’s testimony was the most difficult to hear. Evan had previously called two witnesses who described having seen Tom whip his son. He had induced them to give detailed, fairly graphic, descriptions of what they’d seen. It obviously pained Evan to draw this testimony from the two men, but he was especially distressed to do so with Mama.
“I heard a noise behind the Donnelly barn,” Mama testified. “Maybe I should have minded my own business that day, but it sounded like distress, and I just couldn’t turn my back on it.”
“What did you discover?” Evan asked.
“Tom was beating Tommy.”
“He was punching him in the face and body?”
“Not exactly.”
“Describe what you saw, Mrs. Newcomb,” Evan prompted, his voice strained, his eyes conveying apology.
Mama glanced at Mrs. Donnelly. Mama knew every testimony was gut-wrenching for her friend. She’d lost her husband, and now she was on the brink of losing her son, as well.
“Mrs. Newcomb, I know this is difficult, but the court needs to hear what you saw that day,” Evan urged.
Mama licked her lips. Maggie had never seen her mother so reticent to speak her mind. “Tom had a piece of firewood in his hand and was striking Tommy with it. Poor Tommy was crouched on the ground trying to protect himself, but Tom kept hitting him and hitting him . . .” Mama paused, trying to control her emotions. “I yelled at him to stop. When Tom saw me, he halted in surprise, and the look on his face was fearsome. I thought he might come after me with that wood. In those few moments of reprieve, Tommy jumped up and ran away. Knowing I could do no more, I left the farm without even visiting with Jane, as I had intended.”
