Even though it showed incriminating evidence against him, Tony didn’t regret sharing the video footage to the authorities. Not only had it incriminated Catherine, it also helped to vindicate Claire. For that reason, Jane and John were not fighting the admittance of the footage into evidence. It showed Claire acting in self-defense. John even admitted that, in the video, it appeared as though Tony and Claire were working together.
JUDGE TEMPLE'S CHAMBERS couldn’t comfortably hold the number of people in attendance; therefore, their meeting was relocated to a conference room down the hall. Brent and Tony followed a young woman to the new location. Brent audibly sighed as they entered, and Tony felt his chest tighten as he took in Jane Allyson, and John and Emily Vandersol. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the young lady said, “now that everyone is present, Judge Temple will be with you shortly.”
A murmur of courteous replies filled the tight air.
“John, Emily,” Brent said, as he extended his hand.
John shook Brent’s hand. “Mr. Simmons.”
Turning to Jane, Brent said, “Ms. Allyson, the last we spoke you were planning on attending this meeting alone.”
“Mr. Vandersol is my co-counsel, and as you know, Judge Temple wanted equal representation. Mrs. Vandersol is the plaintiff.”
“Well,” Brent said, using his most affable voice. “I’m pleased that we can all be together. Hopefully, we can reach an amicable conclusion to this unfortunate situation.”
“That is our plan,” Ms. Allyson replied, stopping as the door once again opened and Judge Temple entered.
“Good afternoon,” he offered, as he pulled out the chair at the head of the shiny table and sat.
Again, murmurs of acknowledgements filled the room.
“I see we were all able to make this meeting. I’m all about disclosure. Nothing will be done in my courtroom behind closed doors.” He eyed Brent. “Is that clear, Mr. Simmons?”
Tony bristled at Temple’s tone. Could this guy be that out of sorts over losing his first appearance?
“Yes, Judge. It’s clear.”
“Very well, Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol are present, representing Mrs. Rawlings who, according to these documents…” he held a manila folder, “…is mentally incapable of making this complaint on her own.” He looked up at the Vandersols. “Is that correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor, it is. We also have been granted guardianship and temporary power of attorney over Ms. Nic—Mrs. Rawlings,” John replied.
“As Mrs. Rawlings’ husband,” Brent countered, “my client has issued an injunction of that power of attorney. It is common practice for the husband—”
“We are getting ahead of ourselves,” Judge Temple interrupted. “I assume that we’ve all read the affidavit?” When his question was met with resounding affirmative responses, he continued, “The affidavit was filed on behalf of Mrs. Rawlings immediately following the incident at the Rawlings estate; however, that particular matter is not being heard by me. It’s my place to decide if the petition has warrant.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Tony said, believing he sounded controlled.
“Mr. Rawlings, do you believe the affidavit has warrant? Do you believe your brother- and sister-in-law have reason to question your wife and daughter’s safety in your presence?”
Tony inhaled. That wasn’t the question he’d anticipated. “I love my wife and daughter unconditionally. There is no way I’d do anything to harm them. I believe Claire needs me during this difficult time.”
“That wasn’t the question,” Judge Temple replied. “I asked you if you believe Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol have grounds for questioning your volatile temper.”
“I object,” Brent replied.
“Mr. Simmons, we’re not in court. You do not need to object.”
“Judge, I believe that Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol are making assumptions.”
Jane replied, “Then I’d like to ask a few questions, if I may, Judge Temple?”
“Go ahead, Counselor.”
“Mr. Rawlings, have you ever lost control of your temper in the presence of your wife and daughter?”
“My wife and daughter? No.”
Brent interceded, “May I also ask a few questions, Judge?”
Judge Temple leaned back against the vinyl chair. “Please, I’m interested in the way this will play out.”
“Mr. or Mrs. Vandersol, have you personally witnessed any behavior by Mr. Rawlings that you deem violent?”
Emily’s chin rose indignantly. “Violent, no. Controlling and manipulative, yes.”
“Mr. Vandersol?” Brent continued.
“I’ve always had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right.”
Brent turned back to Judge Temple. “I don’t believe there’s a legal precedent for issuing orders on gut feelings, is there?”
“No, Counselor, but there is more at play here than a gut feeling. Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol claim that the incident at the Rawlings estate was evidence that Mrs. Rawlings was trying, once again, to free herself from Mr. Rawlings. Ms. Allyson, has that changed?”
“Yes, there has been new evidence regarding the incident. At the time of the filing, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Vandersol knew for sure that Claire and Mr. Rawlings were remarried. They also believed that Mrs. Rawlings was trying to free herself from him, as she’d done in the past.”
“Speculation,” Brent interjected. “As you so eloquently stated on a previous occasion, Ms. Allyson, Mrs. Rawlings did not plead guilty to attempted murder in 2012. She pled no contest. That wasn’t an admission of guilt. Mr. Rawlings filed for divorce from their first marriage. She did not free herself in the past, as you state. And the previous charges, as well as her plea, were expunged. They are not relevant.”
“Thank you, Mr. Simmons, for that clarification,” Jane replied. “As I was about to say, there has been new evidence. First, we now have reason to believe that Mr. Rawlings and Claire Nichols were legally married on October 27, 2013. We also have reason to believe that Mrs. Rawlings was not trying to harm Mr. Rawlings. That however, does not render this petition null and void. As court-appointed representatives of Mrs. Rawlings, necessitated by your client’s incarceration and based on their status as next-of-kin, the Vandersols still believe that Mr. Rawlings has been and continues to be a threat to their sister.”
“What evidence do you have? Other than sensationalized fiction?” Brent asked.
“Mr. Simmons, I warned you about insinuating that this court is taking anything other than the facts into consideration,” Judge Temple reprimanded.
“I apologize, Judge, but I’ve yet to hear anything except hearsay—”
Jane produced documents. “I have evidence.”
Tony took the papers that were passed. The first was a bound folder. He’d seen one very similar in the past. Of course, he hadn’t read it then, and he didn’t want to read it now. It was Claire’s non-sworn testimony from 2012. It was her account of their first marriage.
“This testimony was not given under oath…” Brent began. As he spoke, Tony watched Emily’s agitation rise. Her unusually quiet demeanor was no doubt at the prompting of her husband. She appeared as ready to spring as Tony felt.
Finally, she interrupted, obviously unable to contain her words any longer. “You almost killed her! Do you deny that?”
Brent’s hand quickly went to Tony’s arm, warning him to remain silent. Tony bit the inside of his cheek and pressed his lips together forming a slight grin as his unwavering stare remained fixed on his sister-in-law.
“Mrs. Vandersol, your attorneys will ask the questions,” the judge reminded Emily.
“To that point, Judge, we also have recently obtained medical data,” Jane said as she passed more documentation around the table. “This is a preliminary report regarding Mrs. Rawlings’ mental state. It has been noted through various tests that Mrs. Rawlings suffered a concussion approximately three years ago.”
Tony and Brent scanned the papers. Thanks to Phil Roach, they�
��d seen the report. It didn’t take long before Brent replied, “This is not conclusive.”
“No, Mrs. Rawlings has only been recently evaluated. These tests take time. However,” Jane continued, “her current state is theorized to be a psychotic break—a break with reality.” She turned toward the judge. “It was theorized to me, by the doctors, that such a break is brought on, in most cases, by one of two reasons. The first is traumatic brain injury. While we just received this report this morning, we haven’t been able to thoroughly research, but the idea is that Mrs. Rawlings was so violently injured in 2010, that her brain formed scar tissue. This is a very painful process as the gray matter around the brain shrinks. It can sometimes cause debilitating headaches.” Her eyes went to Tony.
He remembered Claire’s headaches. She’d been suffering with them for as long as he could remember, but he couldn’t recall if they’d occurred prior to her accident. Though she often tried to pretend that the headaches weren’t happening, Tony also knew that there were times when nothing but sleep would relieve the pain he had witnessed in her emerald eyes.
Jane continued, “Mrs. Rawlings was also attacked by a perpetrator in 2013, once again sustaining trauma to her head, though, according to medical documentation, not as severely as in 2010. There is ongoing research that verifies that, with time, the lingering results of the TBI (traumatic brain injury) can result in a psychotic break. Therefore, it’s the belief of my clients that Mr. Rawlings is the cause of Mrs. Rawlings’ current condition and is obviously a threat to her future wellbeing.”
“Ms. Allyson, let’s stick to the facts and dispense with the beliefs,” Judge Temple said.
Brent looked at his notes, things he’d scribbled as Jane spoke, as well as information from the medical experts on Rawlings’ legal team. “Ms. Allyson, you said there were two possible causes for a psychotic break. What is the second?”
“The evidence points to the TBI.”
“Psychotic breaks can also be brought on by a traumatic life event.” Brent handed documentation to Jane as well as Judge Temple. “I too have research. It cites many well-documented examples.”
“Judge,” Jane retorted, “I have seen some of this research. These people didn’t have brain injuries.”
Brent sat straighter. “Do you deny that the incident that occurred at the Rawlings estate could be defined as a traumatic life event?”
“I do not. However—”
“Sometimes the brain just cannot handle the stress. Mrs. Rawlings was undoubtedly undergoing excessive anxiety. According to witness testimony and the video surveillance, she’d just learned about the downed Rawlings Industries plane, she’d gone to the estate to assure her husband and family’s safety from Ms. London. The home was on fire, and she’d just had a gun pointed at her. Can you honestly say that it wasn’t this traumatic event that caused her psychotic break? Can you even say with one-hundred-percent certainty she has suffered a psychotic break? Come now, Ms. Allyson, do you have proof that a TBI caused her current condition?”
“It is too early to say definitively,” John admitted, as his wife shot silent daggers in his direction.
Judge Temple interjected, “Let me get this straight: it’s believed that Mrs. Rawlings’ current mental state was caused by previous injury or possibly a very stressful situation?”
“Yes,” Jane replied.
“Are both options viable?”
“Yes,” she said again.
Turning toward Tony, the judge asked, “Mr. Rawlings, in the best interest of your family, though you are not under oath, I’m expecting a truthful answer. Do you know how Mrs. Rawlings received the initial and most severe injury to her brain that is evident on the medical scans?”
“Judge, my client does not need to answer that question,” Brent interjected.
“Counselor, I need the facts to make my decision. Mr. Rawlings, I’m waiting.”
The rush of blood to his face made Tony feel faint. Maintaining the eye contact he’d demanded of Claire in the past, Tony gazed only at the judge. “Yes, I do.”
“There is a sensationalized bestselling book on the market right now that claims to have been narrated by your wife. Are you aware of this book?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Have you read the book?”
Tony stoically replied, “No, I have not.”
“Were you aware that you’re mentioned in this book?”
“Judge, where is this going?” Brent asked.
“Counselor, I want to hear your client’s answer. Mr. Rawlings, were you the cause of that brain injury? Did you harm your wife?”
Tony turned toward John and Emily. “I’m not proud of the things I’ve done in the past, and I would never do them again. I would do anything to have never behaved as I did. You need to know that this time things were different.”
“Mr. Rawlings…” Judge Temple’s voice deepened, “…while we’re not in a courtroom, I will still hold you in contempt if you avoid another of my direct questions. Did you cause your wife grievous bodily harm in 2010?”
“Tony, don’t answer this,” Brent urged.
“Grievous?” Tony asked.
“Did you wound her with intent?”
“I didn’t intend to harm her. It just…”
Tony’s words faded, tears descended Emily’s cheeks, as the small room buzzed with silence.
“Mr. Rawlings,” Judge Temple continued, “are the things in Ms. Banks’ book based on fact?”
“I haven’t read her book.”
“How did Mrs. Rawlings first come to live at your house, in 2010?”
Tony looked toward Brent and then remembering the judge’s statement about contempt, he replied, “I’d rather not answer that question.”
“Oh my God,” Emily breathed under her breath, “you’re a monster.”
“I’d never hurt Nichol. I haven’t hurt Claire since before our divorce. We’ve worked things—”
Judge Temple inhaled and sat taller. “Based on the best interest of this family and of the minor child, I believe I have enough information regarding the protective order. We will reconvene in court, and I’ll announce my decision.”
Tony’s heart ached.
Chapter Eleven
Late May 2014
Tony
I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not.
—Kurt Cobain (paraphrased from André Gide)
THE OFFICES AT RAWLINGS Industries corporate were quiet. Being after hours, most of the people had gone home to their families. Tony didn’t have that luxury. He didn’t want to go to his house—ever. The repairs were complete but the entire structure made him ill. The contractors said that the smell of smoke was gone, but when he entered the grand doors and walked the corridors, a putrid smell infiltrated his senses. No one else could smell it—but Tony could. It was the manifestation of years of hate and vengeance. It was the sickening loss of happiness that would never be his. It was the death of innocent people, and the death of innocence.
Was it only the structure in Iowa, or would he smell the same thing if he were to ever enter the house in New Jersey, the one where he was raised? After all, didn’t it all begin there? Tony wasn’t blaming anyone: he’d done enough of that. But the fact remained that he was raised in an opulent pit of evil. Like the red of his rage, it lurked in every corner and slithered through the halls. His grandfather’s greed, grandmother’s illness, father’s passive-aggressive hatred, and his mother’s submissive acceptance all mingled together to create the environment that spawned both Tony and Catherine. In no way was he forgiving her for any of her actions: nonetheless, she’d come to live under that roof at a mere twenty years of age. Would she have turned out differently had her parents accepted her and Sophia? Would he have turned out differently raised by someone else?
Tony pondered Sophia. She was a London, yet she was so different from her mother. Didn’t the woman Sophia became speak volumes about nature versus nurture? Every day he
thought of the life lost too young.
Tony also mourned Derek. The man deserved better. He’d met every test and challenge with flying colors. Mr. Cunningham from Shedis-tics gave him glowing recommendations, as did Brent, from the short time they’d worked together. His death was another piece of the tragic puzzle.
The home Tony constructed was built as a testament to a man that Tony never really knew, a man who influenced events long after his death. Nathaniel fought hard, lived large, loved secretly, and fell from grace. He allowed his ambitions to overpower his better judgment.
As Tony swirled the amber liquid around his glass, he admitted, if only to himself, he was no better. If anything, he was worse. Nathanial made mistakes out of greed and ambition. Tony’s sins were based on misguided need. It was pitiful, he concluded, as he swallowed the contents of the glass and poured another two fingers of Johnny Walker. Relishing the slow burn as the whiskey dulled his senses, Tony mourned the loss of everything he knew to be true. His entire life was built on lies, retribution, and the need for validation. The money, the power, the prestige were all for one thing—to finally hear Nathaniel say, “well done, son.”
He couldn’t even dream that. In his dream, Nathaniel told him he’d failed.
Tony laid his jacket across a chair and stretched out on the long leather sofa in the far corner of his office. Hell, he’d sleep the night there; he’d been doing it quite frequently. It was better than going back to that house. He’d sell the damn thing if it weren’t for Claire. His eyes closed as he fought the memories. Even the recollections weren’t as bright as they’d been. Even they’d been dulled by the loss of color. There was some hot selling book that talked about shades of gray. Tony concluded that it was now his life. The color was gone. The vibrant greens of the island couldn’t transcend the veil of despair in Tony’s whiskey-numbed mind. There was a time when color was all around…
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 181
