Ella’s parents showed up mid-morning letting me know Megan and Kalli were with Ella and that gave me some relief from the tension I had felt all morning. Guilt was weaving its way into my mind and taking root, but I tried to remind myself frequently that Ella was strong and could handle this on her own. Plus, I couldn’t exactly promise myself that had I been in the same room with Jason Ramie he’d make it out of his own trial with his life.
Yes. It was better that I was here, calmly holding my daughter and just looking at her. She was beautiful, truly adorable. No one ever told me that when babies yawn, your whole heart sort of puddles around your feet. They yawn and stretch, arch their backs, and their tiny little bottoms push out making the whole thing too cute to stand. I watched her, enraptured by every wiggle, every sound, and every gurgle. I was interrupted when the door to her room opened and Dr. Edwards came in with more doctors in white coats flanking her sides.
“Hello, Mr. Masters. We’ve had a bit of juggling with schedules and procedures lately and it looks as though we’ll be able to get Mattie in for her PICC line sooner than we had thought.”
“Oh?” I asked, standing and placing Mattie in the crib.
“Yes. Is your wife here this morning?”
“No. She had to be at a trial this morning. She’s downtown.”
“Oh, well, that was probably difficult for her, but also good that she got out of this room. She’s been so attentive, but one can only take so much confinement.” Dr. Edwards gave me a smile that showed admiration.
“She’s pretty stubborn,” was all I could say as I laughed my reply.
“Well, be that as it may, she’s done an excellent job.” She looked over at Mattie. “We’re going to take her now, if that’s ok with you, and she should be back in about forty five minutes.”
“Now?”
“Yes. We’re ready for her.”
“And I can’t go with her?”
“Unfortunately, no. This isn’t an invasive procedure, but it is important that it is done in a controlled environment. We will be using ultrasound machines to watch the catheter in her veins to make sure we get it placed correctly.”
I paled at her words, feeling the blood drain from my face.
“You’re not going to put her under, are you?” I became instantly panicked. Ella and I had talked about the procedure, but I was only given the information Ella provided me with, and obviously hadn’t thought to ask any really important questions until this very moment when my pulse was racing and my protective instincts were trying to claw their way out of me like a caged bear.
“No, no, no. Mr. Masters, I am not trying to worry you.” She patted my arm in an attempt to calm me, but I just wanted some answers. “We will simply be putting another line in her, just like her I.V., but it will be inserted in a different location—her elbow. Then we just watch it with the ultrasound as it makes its way up the vein and we place it right outside the heart. We do wrap the babies up very tight, leaving only the one arm available, just to keep them from wiggling, as they tend to do. But the procedure is relatively pain free, just like having an I.V. put in, and she doesn’t need to be put under any anesthesia.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief, then sucked another breath more urgent than the one before. “Wait,” I rasped, suddenly terrified. “Could she . . . can this . . .” I couldn’t even make myself say the words. I ran a hand down my face.
“Mr. Masters, please, take a seat.”
I stumbled backwards and landed in the chair, putting my head in my hands between my knees. I felt Dr. Edwards kneel next to me.
“Mattie is going to be just fine. This is not an invasive procedure. We do them all the time, even on babies as tiny as her. I have never seen any real complications besides not being able to get the catheter in to begin with. The highest risk involved with this is infection.” I lifted my head and looked at her, trying to take in her words and hear what she wasn’t coming right out and saying.
Mattie wasn’t going to die. This wasn’t going to kill her.
“Well,” I said as I shook my head and ran my hand through my hair, “that was a fun little breakdown.”
“Mr. Masters, it can be very stressful having a child in the hospital, you’re doing just fine. And hopefully, if everything goes well, you won’t have to be here much longer.”
I smiled at her and watched as one of her colleagues lifted Mattie from her crib and they took her away without really giving me a second glance. I collapsed back into the chair again, a new exhaustion coming over me. How had Ella dealt with all of this for a week? I didn’t envy that Ella had been the one to take Mattie to the doctor to begin with, but now that I had a taste of the fear of not knowing what was going on with your child, I knew Ella had lived through something no one should ever have to.
I pulled out my phone to text her.
I have not given you enough credit for how strong and incredible you are. I love you madly, and Mattie is so lucky that you are her mother.
Also, they have taken Mattie to put in her PICC line. They say she should be back in about 45 minutes. How is everything going for you?
I could feel my hands shaking as I walked towards the chair where the bailiff was waiting to swear me in. He was big and burly. He also looked slightly unfriendly. He stood in front of me and made me promise I wouldn’t lie. I, personally, didn’t need the man to scare me into telling the truth, but understood the process and routine.
I took my oath and sat in the chair, smiling just a little at how full of uncomfortable chairs my life had been lately.
“Mrs. Masters, can you please tell the court where you were the night in question?”
I rubbed my hands on my thighs to wipe the dampness away and to try to tame the shaking.
“I drove back from the beach that night and came home to find my ex-boyfriend in our apartment, well, my apartment that we had previously shared. He wasn’t supposed to be there. We had an altercation and I left. I then went to my store, Poppy, to wait for my boyfriend to come and pick me up.”
“And how long were you at Poppy alone?”
“About an hour and a half. I fell asleep in the backroom.”
“What woke you?”
“I heard a banging on the glass doors.”
“What happened next?”
“I walked out of the backroom and saw a man standing outside the doors.”
“Can you describe the man you saw?”
“Yes. He was tall, perhaps six foot five. He wore a dark hoodie and dark pants. Um,” I stammered, trying to fight the nerves taking over. I also was trying not to look at Jason Ramie as I described him, Mr. Donaldson had warned me against that. “He had a defined chin, dark hair, light eyes, I think maybe blue? And his nose was crooked, as if it had been broken before.”
“What happened next, Mrs. Masters?”
“He asked me for food, and I thought he was a transient so I told him through the glass that I didn’t have any. Then he raised up his arm and was holding a gun.” My voice wavered slightly, and I took a deep breath. I tried to push the memory out of my mind and my eyes found my sister and focused on her. She smiled at me and nodded. “The man,” I continued, hoping I sounded a little more put together than I felt, “pulled the trigger on his gun and I was shot in the shoulder. The fall caused severe head trauma and I was taken to OHSU for treatment.”
I exhaled, glad I had made it through the retelling of one of the most terrifying moments of my life.
“Mrs. Masters is it true that you identified your shooter in a line up at the Portland Police station?”
“Yes.”
“Is the man you identified here today?”
“Yes.”
“Can you point to him, please?”
I raised my arm, just as Jason Ramie had when he pointed a gun at me, and aimed my finger directly at him.
“That’s him. The man who shot me.”
“Thank you,” he said to me. He then turned to the judge. “I have no furth
er questions, Your Honor.”
“Defense, the witness is yours to cross examine.” The judge’s voice was short, cold, and sharp. It made sense though. She was obviously impartial and not interested in anything except order. Jason Ramie’s main attorney stood and buttoned his gray blazer, walking towards me with a slimy smile on his face.
“Good morning, Mrs. Masters, how are you today?”
Caught off guard by his question, not expecting to exchange pleasantries, it took me a moment longer than I would have liked to formulate my answer.
“I am anxious to put this all behind me. I have a brand new baby in the hospital waiting for me to come back to her. So if you wouldn’t mind . . .” I tilted my head to the side, hoping my snark was coming across. I happened to catch Kalli grinning from her chair, so perhaps it was working.
“Right. We all want to get back to our lives, Mrs. Masters.” He took a moment to let his comment sink in, and the meaning wasn’t lost on me. I readjusted myself in my chair while he took his pregnant pause. “Tell me, what happened after you were shot?”
“I was taken to OHSU and treated.”
“For what?”
“I had a gunshot to the shoulder and a sub-cranial bleed.”
“But you recovered.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“But not entirely.” Again, a statement.
“Objection, Your Honor. Counsel isn’t cross examining the witness. He’d need to be asking questions to do so.” Mr. Donaldson sounded exasperated. Being a lawyer took a lot of acting ability, I was learning.
“Your Honor, I am trying to make a point and if it pleases the court, I would like to continue.”
After a few seconds the judge responded with, “Get to the point, Counselor.”
“Mrs. Masters, you had some long-lasting effects from your unfortunate accident, didn’t you?”
“A few. To which are you referring?”
“Memory loss, for one?”
“Yes. I suffered from retrograde amnesia.”
“So, for a time, you couldn’t remember the actual shooting in question or the shooter for that matter.”
“That is true. But my memory returned about two months after the accident.”
“Fully?”
“Mostly.”
“Meaning?”
“There were a few things that were still fuzzy, and even now sometimes I have a hard time recalling things that happened in the six weeks of memory that I lost, but most of it comes to me fine.”
“Was your shooter’s face and identity part of the memory that came back easily?”
“As soon as my memory returned I remembered the shooting, but part of the shooter’s face was blocked from me.”
“And then, magically, while looking at a random line up of men, your memory returned and you conveniently remembered Mr. Ramie’s face, is that true?”
“There was nothing magical or convenient about it, I assure you.”
“Do you think it’s medically possible for someone’s memory to just return to them out of the blue?”
I was primed to answer the question with a resounding YES! Because that was exactly how it had happened, both times, but I was cut off by Mr. Donaldson’s loud and angry voice.
“Your Honor, I object! Mrs. Masters is not a medical professional and can’t possibly comment on the inner workings of the human brain.”
“Sustained.” The judge sounded a little upset with the defense too. “I think we all need a break. Court will recess for thirty minutes.” She banged her gavel and everyone seemed to scatter. Jason Ramie was cuffed again and led back to wherever he had emerged from.
I pushed out a long and deep breath, releasing a lot of anxiety the last twenty minutes had created within me. I walked over to the girls to grab my pump.
“That man is a dipshit,” Megan said, glaring at the defense lawyer, not bothering to keep her voice down. I was sure he heard her, but he made no motion to indicate it.
“Megan,” I scolded. “This is not some bar where you can fling insults and get pushed out by a bouncer. In this bar, the bouncer is a bailiff and you don’t get banned from the bar, you get taken to jail. So watch yourself.”
“He’s still a dipshit.” She said, only this time much quieter. I nodded slightly, agreeing with her.
An intern working for my lawyer took the three of us to a private room that apparently was used solely for nursing moms. There was a little cartoonish sign on the door of a mom holding her baby and it only made me sad that I didn’t have my baby with me. I was grateful for the space and the privacy though. I was also grateful for the break.
Once we were all situated and Kalli and Megan were discussing the defense team a little more openly now that we weren’t in the courtroom, I pulled out my phone to check my messages.
I have not given you enough credit for how strong and incredible you are. I love you madly, and Mattie is so lucky that you are her mother.
Also, they have taken Mattie to put in her PICC line. They say she should be back in about 45 minutes. How is everything going for you?
Hey, Babe. Mattie came back sleeping peacefully, PICC line successfully implanted. It’s actually pretty cool. And no more needle pokes so that’s awesome. I hope everything is going well in court. Please text me when you get a chance. We miss you.
Reading his texts I was immediately struck by a multitude of emotions all at once. First I was panicked that she’d had the procedure done while I was away. I’d officially missed something important. The thought of not being there in case something terrible had happened made my chest ache and my breath caught in my throat.
Next came relief that everything seemed to have gone all right. Then came another wave of relief with the idea that she wouldn’t need to have any more pokes to draw blood and no more I.V. shenanigans to be dealt with. I let the tension leave me with a sigh and typed my response.
I am so glad everything went smoothly. I miss you both too. Trial is, uh, interesting. I was on the stand and then they called a recess. Defense is trying to question my memory of his face.
I knew Porter would be upset by my update, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it from across the city. A response from him was almost immediate.
Give ’em hell, Babe. Mattie and I will be waiting for you this evening. And by the way, she told me she didn’t like the bottle. Hated it. Only drank it in protest.
I laughed out loud at his message, but my heart swelled in my chest at his words as well. He knew exactly what was most upsetting about this day and also knew exactly how to make it easier for me. I responded with a smile on my face.
I love you. Give Mattie some snuggles for me.
I’ll try, but she keeps telling me that I’m not as comfortable to lay on as you are. She’s pretty mouthy. ;)
Oh, and I love you too. Always.
Time passed too quickly and we found ourselves back in the courtroom and I was, once again, called to the stand to continue my testimony. The judge reminded me that I was still under oath, to which I gave her an understanding nod and a quiet, “Yes, Your Honor.” The defense lawyer made his way towards me again, slowly, not making eye contact, reminding me of a snake in tall grass, slithering his way towards his prey. He tried to throw me off, intimidate me, but I wasn’t having any of it. I could see him, plain as day, and refused to be anything but confident in that moment.
“Mrs. Masters, before the recess we were talking about your miraculous memory returning just in the nick of time to I.D. a random man in a line up.”
“But he wasn’t random. That was the man who was arrested and found to have a gun on him which matched the type of gun that shot me. That’s not a coincidence.”
“Your honor, this witness is not qualified to offer testimony as to what my client had on him when he was arrested or not. Please let her previous statement be stricken from the record.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “Jury,” she said, turning to addre
ss the group of people sitting to our left, “you will not allow the witness’ previous statement alter or influence your final decision. It has been stricken from the record.” The jurors all nodded and turned their faces back towards me.
“Mrs. Masters, let’s try this again. Just tell me about how you saw Mr. Ramie in a line up, and identified him, if you couldn’t remember his face.”
I took a deep breath in and tried to sort out my thoughts before I spoke them aloud. “Up until the line-up at the police station, whenever I pictured the person who shot me, I could see everything except his face. His height, his build, his clothing. The only thing missing was the face.” I took in another breath, letting it out slowly, looking to Kalli for a little strength. She gave me a small and tight smile, obviously nervous for me. “When I went in for the line up, I even told the detective I didn’t remember anything. I assured him I wouldn’t be of any help, but Detective Dillard insisted I try. I went in the room and I started at the beginning, looking at each man, trying to make desperately sure that I wasn’t passing up the man who had shot a gun at me.”
I finally looked the defense lawyer right in his eyes. “The first five men looked like strangers. I had no recognition of any of them. Nothing. But when I started looking at number six, everything started coming together, like a fog was lifting.”
“A fog?” The lawyer smirked at me.
“Have you ever had amnesia?”
My question caught him off guard and he stumbled through a response, “Um, no.”
“Then you have no idea what it feels like to have a memory return to you. It is an all-of-a-sudden occurrence. There’s nothing slow and gradual about it. It’s like having the answer to a question or the name of a song on the tip of your tongue. It seems like it’s just right there, but it isn’t, and it either comes or it goes. But when it does come, it’s like a balloon popping. All at once and deafeningly loud. The memory screams at you to be remembered.” My eyes roamed over to Jason Ramie and our glares met one another. He didn’t look remorseful or contrite. He looked angry and annoyed. “Jason Ramie is the man who shot me and the fact that my memory returned when I saw his face is neither a coincidence nor a fallacy.” I paused, looking back at the lawyer standing in front of me, his face painted with a look of shock, much like I might have just told him to kiss my ass. He looked baffled and disoriented as he tried to think of what to say next. “But I will let Dr. Bronson tell you about the medical side of amnesia, seeing as how I am not a medical professional.”
Never Giving Up (Never #3) Page 23
