Did Claire know? Of course, she knew. Tony mentioned the amount hundreds of times during the beginning of their relationship.
“Yes.”
“Well, Mrs. Rawlings, please share. What was the amount of debt Mr. Rawlings paid off for you?”
“He told me it was 215 thousand dollars.”
“My! 215 thousand dollars to be his personal assistant. Was that all? Or were there other benefits?”
Benefits? Claire didn’t know what he meant.
He continued, “Did Mr. Rawlings provide you housing, clothing, or food?”
“Yes. I lived in his house. The staff prepared my food, and he had clothes for me.”
“Now, Mrs. Rawlings, were these old clothes, or did he buy you new clothes?”
“They were new, but I never asked—”
“Please just answer the question. So the clothes were new. You lived in his mansion, and he paid off 215 thousand dollars’ worth of debt. Tell me what you did as Mr. Rawlings’s personal assistant. Did you answer his phone?”
“No.”
He continued, “Did you answer his e-mails?”
“No.”
“Did you coordinate his schedule?”
“No.”
“Did you make him food?”
“No.”
“Did you make him drinks?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Rawlings, what did you do?”
Claire felt her face flush. “I was supposed to be available, whenever he wanted me.”
“Can you please explain yourself?” Mr. Evergreen leaned into the table. “What do you mean available whenever he wanted you?”
Claire looked down. “I was supposed to satisfy his sexual wants and needs.”
“Did you do your job?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Claire was still looking at the table.
“Mrs. Rawlings, I asked if you did your job: yes or no?”
Claire looked the prosecuting attorney in his eyes. “Yes. I did what I was told.”
“And, if my notes are correct, you and Anthony Rawlings married nine months after you began your job. Is that correct?”
“Yes. We discussed that.”
“Yes, we did. I’m just trying to understand. At 215 thousand dollars, housing, food, and clothing for a period of nine months, I figure that Mr. Rawlings paid you nearly a thousand dollars a day for sexual pleasure. You must be a great lay!”
Claire glared at the prosecutor.
Jane and Paul exploded. “That was unnecessary!”
Mr. Evergreen apologized and continued with his questioning. He asked questions about Claire’s claim of imprisonment. Then he showed pictures of her with Anthony at various activities: dinners, fund-raisers, and outings.
Claire thought he had a picture of almost every time she was out of the house during the first six months of her imprisonment. “You don’t understand. I was only allowed out—”
“Mrs. Rawlings, you’ll have the opportunity to discuss your reasons for exaggerating the truth when your attorney is cross-examining you. This is my opportunity. I’ll ask the questions.” He went on in his condescending tone, asking about supposed physical abuse. Did she have any doctor’s statements? Had she reported the abuse? Had she even told Mr. Rawlings she didn’t like it?
This again got Jane and Paul out of their seats. Claire felt ill. Her head pounded and her blood sugar felt low. She leaned toward Jane. “Could we break for lunch?”
While Paul went to get sandwiches, Jane and Claire spoke privately. Claire had told them all the information before. She had explained how Tony controlled her. She hadn’t been allowed to complain. She couldn’t leave her suite for the longest time, and she was never allowed to leave the property without his permission even after they were married. But the way Mr. Evergreen twisted it, it seemed like she was some kind of prostitute. He made it seem like she was after Anthony’s money from the beginning.
Jane reassured Claire that the defense had an opportunity to ask more questions following the prosecution. That would be their time to explain things to the jury. However, even Jane admitted concern about the pictures showing Claire and Anthony out in public. Claire didn’t look like a woman being held against her will. Jane had photos on her laptop sent by Mr. Evergreen during the pre-examination. She pulled up a picture of Anthony and Claire at an upscale Manhattan restaurant.
Claire remembered that night: Tony had completed a big business deal and they had celebrated before dinner. She remembered hating him that night. However, the person in the picture didn’t look like she hated him. The Claire in the picture was exquisitely dressed, beautiful, contented, and attentive: the perfect companion. The realization that she’d learned her lessons too well began to add to her pounding head.
Feeling more nourished, Mr. Evergreen resumed the questioning. “Mrs. Rawlings, you stated Anthony Rawlings was physically and mentally abusive, yet you decided to marry him. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes.”
“Now, can you please tell us who took care of the wedding? And if it was nice?”
“Tony paid for the wedding. He hired wedding planners. They did everything, and it was beautiful. You should know, you were there.”
“Do you have any idea of the cost of your wedding?”
“No.”
“Well, for your information it came to over 350 thousand dollars. Your dress alone was over seventy-thousand-dollars.” Claire really had no idea. “And those figures do not include your rings or your honeymoon. Mrs. Rawlings, can you tell us where you went on your honeymoon?”
“We went to Fiji, to a private island.”
“The cost of this honeymoon, Mrs. Rawlings, do you know the cost?”
“No. It was never discussed with me. I didn’t care about the money!” Claire suddenly felt tired.
“When you were apprehended, you were driving a very expensive car, registered to you, wearing multiple pieces of fine jewelry, and expensive clothes. Do you still claim you didn’t care about money?”
“I drove that car because I found the keys. The clothes and jewelry were all because Tony made me wear them. I didn’t even choose my own clothes that morning.”
Mr. Evergreen went back to his laptop. “Now back to your wedding. Did you know that you and Mr. Rawlings didn’t have a prenuptial agreement?”
“Yes. He told me we didn’t need one, if I ever tried to leave him, there would be unpleasant consequences.”
“Mrs. Rawlings, I’m asking the questions. Did you know that his legal consul wanted him to have a prenuptial agreement?”
“Yes. He told me that the decision was solely his.”
“Did or do you understand without a prenuptial agreement if you and Mr. Rawlings were to divorce you would have claim to half of his fortune?”
“I hadn’t given it any thought.”
“And, I suppose you hadn’t given any thought to the fact that if Mr. Rawlings died, you would have sole claim to his entire fortune.”
“Honestly, no.”
He then showed Claire a picture of an apartment house in Atlanta. “Do you recognize this building?”
“Yes.”
“I would assume you would. It’s the apartment in which you lived prior to moving into Mr. Rawlings’ mansion. How big was your apartment?”
Claire hadn’t thought about that apartment in almost two years. “It was a one-bedroom with an eat-in kitchen.”
“Now, Mrs. Rawlings, do you recognize this residence?” It was an aerial photograph of the estate. It showed the sprawling mansion, the various patios, the pool, the gardens, the long drive, and the massive expenditure of surrounding land.
“Yes.”
“Yes, it’s the home you and Mr. Rawlings shared. Is that correct?”
Claire wanted to be done with this. “Yes, it is”
“Mrs. Rawlings, how big is this house?”
“I don’t know. Do you mean in square feet?” She was becoming irritated.
“Al
l right then. How many bedrooms?” Mr. Evergreen was smiling. Claire thought about it for a minute. “Honestly, I don’t know. Do you want the staffs’ rooms counted too? I don’t know.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’ve been held captive in this home for nearly two years and you don’t know how many bedrooms are there? Or perhaps you were enjoying the life of luxury too much to worry about such things?” Mr. Evergreen tapped his computer screen. “Well, let’s shift gears. Do you recognize yourself in this photo?”
Claire nodded.
“Can you please tell me where you are and what you’re doing?”
“I’m in Davenport, shopping.”
“You are shopping, but I thought you didn’t have any money?”
“Tony gave me a credit card.”
“Was this before or after you were married?”
“I believe that this picture was before, but seriously, you don’t—”
Mr. Evergreen interrupted her. “Mrs. Rawlings, allow me to ask the questions.” He paused. “So, Mr. Rawlings gave you a credit card before you were married. Who paid the bill?”
“He did.”
“Who is with you on this shopping trip?”
“Eric, Tony’s driver was there in the car.”
“So, if you were a prisoner, wouldn’t this have been an excellent opportunity to escape? After all, you were all by yourself in Davenport. Mrs. Rawlings, did you try to escape?”
“No. I was afraid.”
“Stick to the yes and no answers.” Mr. Evergreen looked at his notes on the screen. “Did you only use your credit card in Davenport?”
“No.”
Mr. Evergreen showed some more pictures: Claire on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue in Chicago. He continued, “Mrs. Rawlings, did you use your credit card on these occasions?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?” he asked, pointing at a photo.
“Manhattan.”
“So, you were shopping in Manhattan…” He shook his head. “…the inhumanity of this prison! How much did you have to spend, or let me ask, do you know how much you spent on this particular shopping trip?”
Claire did. “Yes, I spent five thousand but I was told to—”
“Mrs. Rawlings, let’s continue. Did you have a credit card once you were married?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever have the opportunity to use it?”
“Yes.”
He was looking right at her. “This money thing wasn’t so bad now—was it?”
“I didn’t want the money. I don’t want the money. I told Tony I didn’t care about his money—”
Marcus’ associate showed Claire an e-mail address and telephone number, as Mr. Evergreen continued the questioning. “Mrs. Rawlings do you recognize this e-mail address?”
“Yes.”
“It’s yours. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is, but—”
“Mrs. Rawlings, whose cell phone number is this?”
“Mine.”
“Mrs. Rawlings, I thought that you said you were isolated: no way to communicate. Let me see, I believe I have photos of you and your husband in Hawaii, Lake Tahoe, San Francisco, and yes, in Europe. Mrs. Rawlings, did you enjoy the south of France?”
Claire’s head pounded with increasing intensity.
Mr. Evergreen went into a long tirade about how an unemployed weather girl deep in debt latched on to a lonely wealthy businessman with no heirs. This was an entrepreneur that not only made his fortune through hard work, but was highly regarded due to his benevolent endeavors. She then seduced him into employing her as a live-in prostitute and lured him into marrying her without a prenuptial agreement. Given the perfect opportunity, this tawdry woman put poison into her poor, unsuspecting husband’s coffee. If that weren’t enough, she sent his driver away on a wild-goose chase, and drove away. It would have worked, except with technology as it was, fifteen people witnessed the collapse, and help arrived in time. The prosecution had many character witnesses willing to testify to the generous spirit and good-heartedness of Mr. Rawlings. No one would back her slanderous accusations of this respectable man.
Hadn’t she been told over and over again, appearances were everything? The small room became smaller. Claire’s head and heart hurt. She saw the pictures and the expressions of her attorneys. She heard Marcus Evergreen’s accusations and tasted the sour bile as her stomach twisted and turned.
Chapter Fifty
We cannot change our memories, but we can change their meaning and the power they have over us.
—David Seamands
He stared at the paint on the cinder block wall. Why did they always use the same pale green? If it was supposed to look cheery, it failed. Anton continued to watch the wall, even though he heard the door and knew the guard and prisoner had entered. He couldn’t bear to see his grandfather being led around. Anton waited, hands in pockets, until he heard the door close again. Turning around, he met the eyes, the dark defiant eyes. If his grandfather were wearing a suit, and if the metal table were a mahogany desk, Nathaniel would look like the man in Anton’s memory. Despite his circumstances, Nathaniel’s expression hadn’t changed. They may’ve put him in this damn prison, but they sure as hell weren’t keeping his mind here.
“So, boy, did you learn his identity?”
Cole Mathews had worked side by side with Nathaniel Rawls for almost two years. The day before Nathaniel’s arrest, he didn’t show for work. He didn’t call. He disappeared. Almost a year later, information only known by insiders, helped lead to Nathaniel Rawls’ conviction. During the trial it was revealed that an FBI agent had been embedded into the inner workings of Rawls Corporation to investigate federal allegations.
Of course, to protect his identity, the name of the agent was never released, but this was 1988, and Anton Rawls knew his way around a computer, better than most. Hacking was such a negative term for research.
Anton placed the manila folder in front of his grandfather. “Yes, sir, I found his name and enough personal information to track him down.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” Nathaniel opened the folder and scanned the contents. “He has a wife and family.” He spent a few more minutes reading the pages. Then abruptly, Nathaniel shut the folder and slammed his hand against the table. “This son-of-a-bitch will pay!” His chair hit the wall as he forcefully stood. “Do you hear me, boy?”
“Yes, sir, I hear you.” Anton watched his grandfather pacing in his prison garb. “Not just him. Hell, no. He took away my world. He took my family. His damn kids, their kids, their kids… they’ll all face the consequences of his actions! He took everything.” Nathaniel’s eyes darkened as he moved closer to his grandson. “You know what?”
“No, sir.”
“You can’t lose everything, until you have everything to lose.” More pacing. “I had everything, and now look at me! That man and his Goddamn family will pay!” He moved very close to his grandson. “The day I get out of this hellhole, they will pay. Every one of them will regret the day he decided to bring me down.”
Anton noticed the difference in the sound of their footsteps. His hard soled shoes made a distinctively different noise from his grandfather’s rubber soled shoes which squeaked. “There’s more, sir.”
Nathaniel turned toward his grandson’s words. “What? What more did you learn?”
“He had help. He worked hand in hand with a securities officer named Burke; Burke fed Mathews the necessary information. If this securities officer hadn’t directed Mathews, Mathews wouldn’t have been as thorough in collecting evidence.” Anton watched the shade of his grandfather’s face grow in crimson intensity as he spoke.
“And, your father?” The blackness of Nathaniel’s eyes pulled Anton’s gaze to him.
Anton felt compelled to maintain eye contact and surrender the rest of his information. “He testified for the state.” Nathaniel’s pacing resumed. “It was done behind close
d doors, but it isn’t secret. The media calls him the hero in our family.”
Nathaniel collapsed red faced and defeated into his chair. The realization that his son turned state’s witness was obviously affecting him. His tone mellowed, as he said, “Boy, you’ll survive.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“Being here today, discovering this information, and most importantly, having the balls to bring it to me are all evidence of your future. Your father has always been a disappointment, but I believe he was better at one thing than me.”
Anton sat in the metal chair facing his grandfather. He could hear the sincerity in Nathaniel’s tone and words, and asked his grandfather to continue.
“Public opinion. I never gave a damn what anyone thought. I worked hard and believed I deserved all the money, possessions, and everything I earned—and wanted more. That was never a secret. Remember this: you can want the whole Goddamn world, but never show it.” Nathaniel stared up at the camera in the corner of the room. “If they know what you want, they’ll watch you and take it away. Keep up appearances, boy. If you do that, you can take everything you want. The whole damn world is yours.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Happiness doesn’t depend on any external conditions it is governed by our mental attitude.
—Dale Carnegie
Claire had been incarcerated for over three months and had come to terms with the realization it would not end soon. The claustrophobic cell and virtual isolation were her new norm. Surprisingly, like in traumas before, she was adapting. It was difficult at first, but with time she developed strength and resolve.
On April 18, 2012, the courtroom sat empty, except for the judge, defendant, and legal teams, as each word spoken, resonated throughout the cavernous room. Claire Nichols stood in front of the federal court judge and with the help of her legal team pled no contest to the charge of attempted murder. As the judge explained the consequences of Claire’s plea, she listened, felt the smooth finish of the chair she used for support, watched the judge’s lips, and silently wept.
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