by Jon Reisfeld
“We had talked about it, and I hadn’t objected, or anything,” Mrs. Silkwood said. “But I don’t recall us setting up time tables or anything like that. Anyway, I said, ‘No, not yet. I’ve been busy.’ That’s when he went completely ballistic on me.”
Swindell stood. “Objection. The witness’ answer goes beyond the scope of the question. Move to strike.”
“Sustained,” Judge Farnsworth said. “Strike everything after ‘anything like that.’”
West continued. “Did this conversation end in a confrontation?”
“Yes.”
“Would you please describe the nature of that confrontation, Mrs. Silkwood.”
“He said, ‘Damn it, Katie! Isn’t this even a priority for you?’ – or something like that. I don’t remember exactly.” As he said it, he knocked a plastic cup off the kitchen table, and it went sailing across the floor!”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Objection,” Swindell said. “Leadin’ the witness.”
“Overruled.”
“Well, I was scared. I jumped and I said, ‘Martin, what’s come over you? You’re frightening me.”
“What happened next?” West asked.
“Martin said, ‘I wish you were scared Katie. You should be—about our marriage.’ Then, he walked over to where I was standing at the counter and got real close to me, into my space and everything.
“He was about six inches away from my face. He was staring at me intently. I could feel his breath on my cheeks. ‘Do you care about saving this marriage, Katie?’ he asked me. I was starting to feel real uncomfortable and scared. I thought he was going to hit—.”
“Objection, Your Honor. Irrelevant. The witness is givin’ us a narrative.”
“Overruled. Let’s let her tell her story.”
“Proceed, Ms. West.”
West looked at Katie Silkwood. “You may continue, Mrs. Silkwood.”
“Well, as I said, it looked like he was going to hit me.
‘I don’t get it,’ he said. ‘Don’t you care about what happens to our family? Do you want our kids to grow up in a broken home? You used to really care about them.’”
“That got me upset, so I said, ‘How dare you question whether I care about the kids! I’m the one who’s always here for them, when you go out of town every other week on business!”
“‘You know I don’t have any choice in the matter, Katie. It’s my job,’ he said. And I said, ‘Well, no one’s sentenced you to work there for life. Get another job! Be a man!’
“‘I am a man,’ he said, ‘and a damned good one, too!’ Then, he announced that, as the ‘man of the house,’ he was going to take matters into his own hands and schedule a counseling session at the earliest opportunity with a marriage counselor we had heard good things about. ‘All you’ll have to do is show up, Katie,’ he said, ‘if that’s not too much trouble.’”
“‘You better make all the arrangements then, including getting a sitter for the kids,’ I told him. “Then, he said he would try and schedule a session for that Saturday afternoon or the next, and I got upset.”
Swindell rose to his feet. “Objection. Irrelevant, Your Honor. Now, we’re not only gettin’ a play-by-play narrative but dialogue, too. Mrs. Silkwood is testifyin’ for both parties!”
Judge Farnsworth knitted his brow. “Sustained. Ms. West, the court is trying to give you and your client some latitude, here, but I think you need to help rein in your client.”
The faintest hint of a blush was beginning to penetrate West’s layer of concealer. “Certainly, your honor. Mrs. Silkwood. Katie,” she said, “you indicated you got upset. Could you please tell the court why your husband’s remarks upset you?”
“Because Martin knows Saturday afternoons are my personal time, when I go shopping and just chill out from being with the kids all week. He deliberately said he would schedule the appointment during my free time.
“Did you let him know you were upset?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I spilled my tea in the sink and told him he could schedule it then, but he’d be going by himself, and I started to brush past him to leave the room.”
“Did the confrontation intensify at that point?” West asked.
“Yes.”
“Could you please tell us what happened?”
Swindell stood up. “Objection! Counsel’s question appears to be invitin’ yet more narrative.”
“Sustained,” Judge Farnsworth said. He sighed and gestured for West to continue.
“Did your husband do anything when you attempted to leave?” West asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He stopped me, grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me real hard.”
“Was that the extent of the confrontation?”
“No.”
“What else happened?”
“He asked me what it was going to take for him to finally get through to me.”
“And how did you react to that?”
“I raised my hand up like I was going to slap him.”
“Then what happened?” West asked.
“He let me go.”
“What did you do next?”
“I went to the bedroom and locked the door.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want him to ‘do anything’ to get through to me.”
“Did things go back to normal after that?” West asked.
“No.”
“Describe what happened to disrupt the normal household routine.”
“The next day, while Martin was at work, I took the kids and the dog and left the house.”
“Where did you go?”
“We went to a friend’s house where I knew we’d be safe. I needed time to think.”
“Objection,” Swindell said. “Non-responsive.”
“Sustained. “Strike everything after ‘friend’s house.’”
“What was it about that incident that caused you to flee the house?” West asked.
“Well, that wasn’t an isolated case. We had been having a lot of arguments lately, and each one seemed a little worse than the one before.”
“Are you thinking of any occasions in particular?” West asked.
“Yes, the four times, in recent months, when I had called the police to the house—”
“Objection,” Swindell said. “Irrelevant. Once more, Your Honor, they’re attemptin’ to expand the time frame!”
“Is there a reason why we need to hear about these other incidents?” Farnsworth asked West.
“Well, yes, Your Honor. We contend that Mr. Silkwood had become increasingly belligerent and out-of-control in recent months. It was the escalating nature of those outbursts that made Mrs. Silkwood fear for her safety and flee.”
“I’m going to allow the testimony, for now, Counselor,” Judge Farnsworth said, “but you could be getting onto shaky ground. Don’t make me regret it.”
Both West and Swindell looked intently at the judge. Such an admonition to the petitioner’s counsel was completely out of character.
Swindell leaned over toward Martin and whispered. “Somethin’s up. I’ve known Farnsworth a long time, and I’ve never seen him press the petitioner’s counsel like this.”
“Is that good?” Martin asked.
“It looks like it could be very good for us,” Swindell continued, “very good, indeed.”
“OK, Mrs. Silkwood,” West said. “I’d like to return to those four incidents you spoke of, when the police were called to your house. I’d like you to briefly recount what happened on each occasion and the significance of its effect on you.”
“Well, the first one occurred on a Tuesday night in November, the fourth, I believe. We were arguing about a problem Justin was having in school. On this occasion, Martin got upset and threw his glass of scotch into the fireplace. I was concerned for my safety—and the safety of my kids—so I called 911.”
&nb
sp; “What happened when the police arrived?” West asked.
“Martin took off the moment he heard me on the phone. And he stayed out all night. So, he wasn’t there when the police arrived.”
“What did the police do?”
“They searched through the house, took down information about Martin, borrowed a picture of him, and they examined the broken glass in the fireplace. The officer was very nice. He put everything down in his report. They waited with me for nearly an hour.”
“What about the second incident?” West asked.
“That happened the afternoon of Sunday, November sixteenth,” Katie said. We were raking leaves and Justin ran his bicycle through them, thinking it was funny. Then, Martin took the bicycle and threw it down on the driveway with all his might. It got all scuffed up, and Justin ran to his room crying. I couldn’t get him to come out.”
“Did you call the police on this occasion as well?” West asked.
“Yes. They came and wrote up their report again, took a picture of the bike on the driveway and everything.”
“What did they say to your husband?” West asked.
“Nothing. Martin had apologized and had gone inside to take a tranquilizer. He was sleeping upstairs when they arrived, and I asked them not to disturb him, as everything was calm once more, and I didn’t want to get him riled up.”
“And the police were OK with that?” West asked.
“Well, not at first. But I begged them. I explained how Martin had been under a lot of pressure lately, that he wasn’t normally a violent man, and finally they said, ‘OK.’”
“What was the third occasion?” West asked.
“It happened in late December, December the twenty-eighth, I believe.”
“Tell us about it.”
“Well,” Katie said, “we had gone to my mother-in-law’s home for the day—to exchange presents and have an extended Christmas for the kids. Martin and his mother don’t get along well. I mean, she rides him the entire time we visit. He calls her the ‘Ultra Nag.’”
“Objection,” Swindell said. “Irrelevant narrative. Move to strike!”
“Sustained.”
“How long did you stay there?” West asked.
“Till about four in the afternoon.”
“And why did you leave at 4:00?”
“Martin and his mother don’t get along,” Katie said, “and he had had all he could take.”
“What was the nature of the incident on this day?”
“Martin got angry and backed his car into the garage wall, messing up the fender.”
“What made him so angry?” West asked.
“When we got home, he realized he had left something at his mother’s house, and he would have to drive back to Virginia to get it.”
“What did you do after he left?
“I called the police.”
“Why?” West asked.
“I wanted them to document what had happened. I wanted them to be aware of the escalating nature of the situation.”
“Did they speak with your husband on that occasion?”
“No, but they told me they were becoming concerned.”
“Objection,” Swindell said. “Hearsay.”
“Sustained.”
“When did the final incident take place?” West asked.
“That was on January eighteenth—at night.”
“Describe what happened.”
“Martin and Justin got into a fight and then Martin squeezed my arm.”
“What was the fight about?”
“Access to the TV in the den.”
“What was the issue?”
“Justin wanted to watch Disney and Martin wanted to watch the football game.”
“What happened?”
“Martin locked himself in the den, and Justin banged on the door with a baseball bat for about an hour.”
“What did you do while that was going on?”
“I told my son that his father had said he did not want to be disturbed. He would have to watch Disney another night.”
“What did your husband do when he finally came out of the room?”
“He yelled at me for not controlling our son and grabbed me by the arm and squeezed real tight.”
“What specifically led you to call 911 on that occasion?
“About a half-hour later, I looked down and saw my arm was seriously bruised.”
“What happened when the police arrived?”
“The police officer tried to get me to go to a shelter—or to consider filing a petition for a protective order.”
“Did you take the officer’s advice?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Katie Silkwood shook her head. “I didn’t want to believe things had gotten that bad.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Silkwood,” West said. Then looking over at Swindell, she added, “Your witness.”
Chapter 35
Swindell rose slowly, took his pad in hand and approached the bench. “Very interestin’ story, Mrs. Silkwood,” he said. “Let me see if I understand it correctly. Your husband has been gettin’ increasin’ly violent and angry lately. On four separate occasions, you called the police because of his excessive use of force or because of his out-of-control temper. And finally, last Thursday, when you saw the pattern repeatin’ itself, you took matters into your own hands and fled with the children and your dog. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Katie said.
“Mrs. Silkwood, rememberin’ that you’re under oath, I wonder if there’s anythin’ you may have omitted regardin’ these incidents that you’d like to mention now, for the record? Or do you stand by the story as told.”
“I stand by it,” Katie said.
“So, if we’re to believe you,” Swindell said, “the police came to your house four different times in response to emergency 911 calls. On all but one of those occasions, your husband had ‘fled the scene.’ And on their second visit, he had been restin’ after takin’ a tranquilizer, and they agreed not to confront him. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Katie said.
“Don’t you think that’s odd, Mrs. Silkwood—how the police never once saw your husband on any of those occasions?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” West said. “Argument-ative.”
“Overruled,” Judge Farnsworth said.
“I can’t keep Martin at home—or anywhere else, for that matter—if he wants to leave,” Katie said. “He’s a grown man, and he is a lot bigger than I am.”
“Isn’t it true, Mrs. Silkwood, that the real reason the police never saw your husband, and the reason you—what word did you use to describe it? Ah yes,” he said, referring to his notes. “The reason you ‘begged’ them not to disturb him on the occasion when you said he had taken the tranquilizers, was because he wasn’t really home at all?”
“Of course, that’s precisely what I said,” Katie explained. “He wasn’t home!”
“Even on the day he took the tranquilizers?” Swindell asked.
“No,” she said. “He was home that time, just not the others.”
“Mrs. Silkwood,” Swindell continued. “Isn’t it true that your husband was not only ‘not at home’ the four times you called 911, but that he actually was out-of-state? Wasn’t he away on business?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” West said. “This question has been asked and answered.”
“Overruled,” Judge Farnsworth said. “The question seeks further clarification. Then, turning to the witness, he said, “Please answer the question.”
“What are you suggesting?” Katie Silkwood asked Swindell.
“Your honor,” Swindell said, addressing the bench. “Would you please instruct the witness, to answer the question before her.”
“Perhaps it would be helpful to repeat the question first,” Judge Farnsworth said. He instructed the court reporter to read the question aloud from the record.
“Isn’t it true,” the court reporter read “tha
t your husband was not only not at home the four times you called 911, but that he actually was out-of-state? Wasn’t he away on business?”
Katie Silkwood looked at the judge, and he gestured for her to answer. She turned to Swindell. “No, that’s a lie!”
“We’ll see about that,” Swindell said.
West stood up. “Objection, judge. Argumentative and completely inappropriate!”
“Sustained.” Judge Farnsworth said. He frowned at Swindell and raised an eyebrow. “Save your arguments for the court, counselor.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
Then Swindell continued, “Mrs. Silkwood, once more rememberin’ that you’re under oath, is it still your contention that, on these four occasions, your husband was at home and not away on business, managin’ on-site audits at his accountin’ firm’s clients’ offices?”
“Objection!” West said, rising once more.” “Counsel’s question is argumentative. What’s more, the question already has been asked and answered several times!”
“Sustained,” Judge Farnsworth said, frowning again at Swindell.
Swindell had a sour look on his face and shook his head as he walked toward his desk and removed a set of papers from his file. He held them up in his right hand for all to see. “Your Honor, I have here four copies of police reports filed after each of the four 911 calls placed from the Silkwood home.”
“Objection,” Beverly West said, rising once more. “These alleged police reports have not yet been authenticated, Your Honor. Furthermore, Mr. Swindell did not apprise us, in advance of today’s hearing, that he had these documents in his possession. He also failed to provide us with review copies, as is required, by law.”
“That’s true, judge,” Swindell said, “but these documents only came into my possession over the weekend. I also have not yet moved to introduce them into evidence. I am merely asking to have them marked for identification purposes.”
“Ms. West,” Judge Farnsworth asked. “Do you still object?”
“No, Your Honor,” West said. “However, I’d like to be permitted to review these documents first, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly,” Judge Farnsworth said. “Mr. Swindell, do you have copies?”
Swindell produced three sets of copies: one for the court, one for West and one for himself. He handed them around and then returned to his table, while the judge and West looked them over.
