by Judith Pella
“Tell the court, Mrs. Newcomb, was Mr. Donnelly simply striking Tommy on the backside as a father might when ‘taking the rod’ to the child?”
“Many of those blows would have struck Tommy’s head if he hadn’t been protecting it with his hands,” Mama answered. “His hands and arms were bloody.”
In cross-examination Mr. Cranston tried to twist Mama’s testimony to make it appear that she had overreacted to a mere spanking, implying that her female tender sensibilities might have clouded her perspective. Those in the audience who knew Mama chuckled at this implication. While Mama was tenderhearted, she was in no way fainthearted, and everyone knew this.
After the midday recess on the second day of the defense’s case, Evan called his final witness, Tommy himself. Maggie knew he had debated about doing this. Testimony by the defendant was, as Evan said, a “double-edged sword.” It would give Mr. Cranston an opportunity to chip away at Tommy’s story and his self-confidence. It was also tricky because of Tommy’s mental slowness and his propensity to say what he was thinking with little restraint. But Tommy was the only witness to the death of Tom Donnelly. He needed to have a chance to tell his side of it. Evan trusted that Tommy’s account was completely true and that Cranston would be unable to impugn it.
First, Evan questioned Tommy about his father’s treatment, the beatings, which Tommy said happened almost daily, the name calling, and the constant criticism.
“Why did you stick around?” Evan asked. “Many boys your age would have run away long ago.”
“I saw my pa strike my ma only once or twice,” Tommy replied. “But it was pretty awful, and I knew that if my pa didn’t have me to knock around, he’d light into my ma.”
“So you stayed and took the beatings to protect your mother?” Evan repeated, no doubt to impress this fact upon the jury.
“Yeah, ’course. Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Did you ever strike your father back?”
“I tried a couple times. But did you ever see my pa? He was big, and let me tell you he was strong. I didn’t get none of his size. I was pretty puny next to him.”
Next, Evan asked him to describe the day of his father’s death, and Tommy related the events in the same way he’d done several times since it had happened. He had to be telling the truth, Maggie believed, because he wasn’t bright enough to get his story straight over and over again unless that’s what really happened. He told how they had gone bird hunting, and Tom had brought a couple jugs of moonshine. They started into those and soon both of them were quite drunk. His father started railing at him for going to church, yelling that religion was making Tommy into a “nancy boy,” a “pansy,” a “sissy.” Then his father got it into his head that he was going to make a man of Tommy. That’s when the shooting started. Tom might not have wanted to shoot Tommy, but he was so drunk there was no telling what he was likely to hit.
“Then he started to shout, ‘I’d be better off with a dead son than a girly boy!’ ” Tommy said. “That’s when I really got scared. I could see it in his eyes . . . he wanted me dead. Then he tripped and fell and dropped the rifle. I grabbed it.”
“Tommy, are you saying you had no rifle of your own that day?” Evan asked.
“Nah. Pa came and got me when I was workin’ in the field. It would have been too much trouble to go back for my gun. We’d just share his. I figured if this was like most hunting trips, there’d be more drinking than hunting.”
“So you had no gun of your own?” Evan reiterated.
“No, sir.”
“Now, tell the court what happened after the shooting started?”
“Well, like I said, he tripped and I got the rifle, but then he got hold of a fallen branch and came at me with it. I was yelling at him to stop and leave me alone.” Tommy’s voice started to tremble. His eyes welled with moisture. With difficulty, he went on, “I yelled and yelled, and the next thing I knew the rifle was firing. Like my fingers had a mind of their own, you know? It went off several times ’fore I realized my pa was down again. This time he didn’t move. I saw blood on his shirt, and I ran.”
“Did you run because you had murdered your father?”
“I never thought ’bout that. I just ran because I knew Ma would be mad at me for what happened.”
“Did you know what you had done was wrong?”
“ ’Course! It was a horrible, horrible thing I done shooting my own pa. I . . . I still can hardly believe it happened. Except I know it did ’cause for the first time in my life I finally feel safe. I don’t gotta wake up every morning dreading the beatin’ I was sure to get that day.”
“Thank you, Tommy.” Evan turned to the prosecution. “Mr. Cranston, your witness.”
Mr. Cranston tried hard to tear apart Tommy’s story but without success. He spent much time dissecting Tommy’s statement about not realizing he was firing the rifle until he saw his father fall. Though Evan objected, Mr. Cranston implied that Tommy was too level-headed and too adept with firearms to fire one in a daze of passion.
When Cranston finished his questioning, Evan quietly said, “The defense rests.”
The trial concluded with closing remarks from each lawyer. Mr. Cranston harped about premeditation, though he’d made a weak case for it. But he was fairly convincing in attacking Tommy’s word regarding not knowing he was firing the rifle. It was a critical point, because if Tommy knew he was shooting, the case for murder strengthened. Self-defense could still apply, but it did raise an important question.
Maggie thought Evan was absolutely eloquent in his closing remarks. First he outlined the facts of the case, emphasizing the fact that Tommy had not even taken a gun into the woods that day, so how could there be premeditation? Evan then drew a poignant and heart-wrenching picture of a boy taunted and abused by his father, a boy who wanted to be a better person but who fell into unsavory actions in order to find acceptance from a cruel and heartless father.
Maggie was crying by the time Evan finished, and a glance around the courtroom revealed other women with moist eyes. The all-male jury was dry-eyed, but she saw many creased brows and sympathetic expressions among them.
The jury then exited the courtroom for their deliberation. Maggie’s prayers, and she was certain those of many other supporters of Tommy, followed them. It was in the jurors’ hands now and in God’s hands.
Tommy was taken back to jail, and Evan hurried from the room. Maggie didn’t even try to go after him. Though it was hard for her, she had to give him time to get over his humiliation, if that was the problem, or just time to concentrate on the remainder of the trial. Tommy needed Evan more than she did anyway. Waiting for the jury’s decision would be excruciating.
Exiting the courthouse, she saw Colby standing on the sidewalk. She was going to ignore him when he called.
“Hi, Maggie. That was some spectacle, wasn’t it?”
She gave him a cold glance and, without a word, walked on. She felt he was the enemy now and wondered that she had ever desired him.
She and her parents had a very quiet and subdued supper with Cousin Martha and her family. No one wanted to discuss the trial or ponder the possible outcomes. If the trial had been a contest, even Maggie, who was definitely prejudiced, couldn’t say who had come out ahead. Evan had told her once that a quick verdict often favored the prosecution, while a more prolonged one was good for the defense. Thus, she felt as good as she could when no word had come about a verdict after supper. The jury might deliberate through the night, maybe even for days, though that didn’t seem likely. Those men had farms and families to tend, and though they wanted justice done, they were also practical men.
Maggie passed a sleepless night. When she did manage to doze off, her dreams were unpleasant enough to wake her.
Everyone returned to the courtroom at nine in the morning. If the jury had reached a decision during the late evening or night, the judge would have held off to announce it until morning. This, in fact, had been the case.
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br /> When all were in their proper places, the judge turned to the jury and asked, “Has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor, we have,” said the spokesman. He passed a paper to the bailiff, who handed it to the judge.
The judge read the paper. “Will the defendant please rise?”
Today, both Evan and Tommy looked sick. But Tommy stood and Evan stood beside him.
“In the matter of the State versus Thomas Donnelly, the jury finds the defendant . . . not guilty.”
The entire courtroom erupted into a spontaneous outburst. There were cheers and perhaps some less than supportive sounds, but Maggie only heard the words “Not guilty!” Then she surged forward with her parents and others to congratulate Tommy and Evan.
She tried to embrace Tommy, but he turned away from her. When she approached Evan, he wasn’t as obvious in his rejection, but he ignored her, as well. He seemed to be distracted by someone else, thus avoiding her overture. Heartsick, she stumbled back on the fringes of the well-wishers.
The judge tried to call order so he could properly adjourn the court but finally just rose and exited. In all the hullabaloo it was easy for Maggie to slip out of the courthouse unnoticed. She tried to choke back the emotion that rose in her. If she was going to cry, she’d prefer it was in private, but she didn’t know where to go to be alone here in town. Somehow she made it to the alley behind the jail—a perfect spot to unburden one’s misery, as Evan had proved.
She sank down on the ground and let the tears flow. She wanted to be happy that Tommy was safe and that Evan had proven his worth to everyone who had ever maligned or doubted him. How she had wanted to embrace them and shout a cheer for them!
That they had rejected her was bad enough; that she deserved it was worse yet. She had betrayed Tommy, though some of her testimony may have helped him. She had humiliated Evan, but she had not intended to do so. She had lost two dear friends. And perhaps in Evan she had lost far more.
TWENTY-NINE
The next few days after the trial Maggie moped around the house—at least that’s what Mama called it.
“Maggie, why are you moping around the house?” she said more than once. “Before that trial I hardly ever saw you. Now you are getting peaked from staying indoors so much.”
Maggie would merely shrug and concentrate on her stitching. She had ten blocks finished for her quilt and only two more to go before all were complete. Twelve blocks with sashings would make a nice-sized quilt. Though her purpose in making this quilt had become completely muddled since she had started it, she still wanted to finish it. She wanted one finished quilt that she had made herself in her hope chest. At the rate her romantic pursuits were going, she might still end up with all twelve like Ellie.
However, she couldn’t spend all her time stitching. Boyd’s wedding day was fast approaching, the Sunday after next! Reverend Barnett had agreed to officiate, and Boyd had asked Zack to take part, as well, by saying a prayer and perhaps a few words. The wedding would be at the Wallards’ house, but Mama was going to help with the food for the reception. They had been baking all kinds of goodies to put away for the big day. When Maggie had come home from the trial, Grandma had surprised her by having finished her dress for the wedding. Maggie had been thrilled but also sad, though she tried not to show it. That dress would remind her of Evan. He had helped pick out the material.
Would he see her in the dress? Although he was invited to the wedding, would he decline the invitation for fear of seeing Maggie?
She didn’t understand why such a relatively small thing like her seeing him upchuck in an alley would have set him off so. However, she got an inkling there was more to it than met the eye when Ellie let something slip.
“Zack says stage fright can be a serious thing,” Ellie had said one day when Maggie finally confided what had happened. It was the time they often talked—at night in bed with the lamp turned low.
“What do you mean stage fright? What does Zack know of this?”
“Oh!” With a little gasp, Ellie covered her mouth with her hand. “I can say no more—”
“Not on your life! Tell me what you know!” Maggie demanded. She’d feared there was more to this, and if there was, she wanted to know so she could do something about it. She’d been waiting for Evan to take the first step, trying to give him time to get over his humiliation. But it might be up to her. Something had to be done. She was miserable without his friendship.
“Maggie, I can’t. Zack may not be an official minister yet, but since he is sort of an apprentice, he has to abide by certain ministerial rules.”
“Whatever it is, he told you. That doesn’t sound right.”
“I’m his fiancé. He ought to be able to tell me, as long as I follow the rules, too.”
“Tell me!” Maggie ordered.
“Girls,” Mama called from across the hall, “it’s late. Time to settle down.”
Quietly, Ellie asked Maggie, “Why are you so agitated about this, Maggie? Do you care for Evan?”
“Of course I care for him. He’s a good friend!” she quickly replied, barely able to keep her voice low as she emphasized the word friend.
“No more?”
“How do I know, Ellie?” she replied miserably but honestly. “Still, I can miss a friend, can’t I? Doesn’t mean it’s . . . well . . . ah . . . love or something!”
A moment of silence passed before Ellie responded. “Ask Zack. Okay? He will be the best judge of whether he ought to tell or not.”
Maggie talked to Zack the very next time she saw him, but he wouldn’t divulge what he knew. He did suggest she be patient with Evan because he was a mature, level-headed man who would soon get over what shame he might be feeling.
Evan knew he was behaving abominably. He should not have ignored Maggie after the trial. Yet he’d been so ashamed that she had caught him in his awful weakness. The forward steps he had taken after talking to Zack had nearly melted away after the encounter with Maggie.
Now that several days had passed and he was able to think more rationally, he realized how ridiculous that was. Heavens! She certainly must have already known how weak and inept he was. She’d seen him trip and fumble around like a circus clown. Watching him bumble around the courtroom couldn’t have been more shocking than watching him vomit behind it. Besides, how was she to know that it wasn’t an isolated incident?
Oh, she would guess. She knew him that well at least.
The incident in the alley, no doubt, was the cap on everything else. The nail in the coffin of his heart. She had already rejected him, so the alley scene surely must have cemented her decision.
As for himself, the incident had simply weakened his already faint courage. Before that had happened, he’d thought he would keep trying to win her. Did he have the strength now to keep bashing his head against a wall? His love for her had grown each day, each moment. He thought of her constantly, he missed her desperately. In the last two days he had decided several times to ignore his pride and go see her. He’d gone as far as to saddle his horse a couple of times. But he couldn’t mount because the fear of another rejection from her was more than he could bear.
One might think that events following Tommy’s trial would have bolstered his confidence. For two days following the trial, he’d been swamped with potential clients. It surprised him how many pending legal matters there were in the small county— people needing contracts reviewed, wanting legal counsel for land deals, for drawing up wills and a plethora of smaller items.
Nothing criminal, which suited him just fine, for it meant he wouldn’t have to appear in a courtroom anytime soon. He’d heard that winning an important public trial could make a name for a lawyer, but he’d not even considered that until the potential clients began pouring in, a couple from Astoria and even some from Portland. He saw that he could make a nice living here in Columbia County practicing what he was trained to do. He need not shame his family or give up something he fairly enjoyed, courtro
om nausea aside. His father had told him how proud he was, and his mother . . . well, one cannot win every battle. His mother still wanted him to reach for the power and prestige offered in Boston.
Evan truly desired to remain in Maintown, if only he had a reason to keep him here. But how could he stay if that very reason thought him a fool and had rejected him?
On Friday night Zack came to see him.
“Listen, Evan, Maggie is asking about what happened in the alley,” he said. “She knows there is more to it than just a simple stomach upset. She thinks I might know something of the matter. I assure you I didn’t say anything to her. I’m afraid I did tell Ellie—I’m sorry about that. You’ll understand one day when you love someone and she is your best friend and confidante. But she promised to keep your confidence. Yet they are very close, and something might have slipped.”
“I never told you to keep it a secret,” Evan replied.
“Yes, but—”
“I appreciate your concern about keeping my shame quiet,” Evan cut in quickly, realizing Zack would be too circumspect to say exactly what he was thinking.
“That’s not it at all,” Zack replied, seeming upset that Evan would assume such a thing. “I never once thought you had anything to be ashamed of. I merely feel that since I plan to become a minister, I have to be careful in talking about my interactions with others. In any case, Maggie is upset, and that is why I have come to you.”
“Upset?” That shouldn’t have surprised Evan. He knew she was a caring woman. It was one of the reasons he loved her.
“She says you haven’t spoken to her since the trial. You two had become good friends, and you saw each other often. Even I could take your silence and absence as unusual. Perhaps it is not my place to interfere,” Zack added. “I just felt you ought to know.”
