Victim of the Defense

by Marianne Woolbert-Maxwell

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing.” Mattingly arched his eyebrows.

  “Nothing,” Megan said firmly.

  Mattingly looked at the floor and then slowly began to pace back and forth in front of her. After several seconds he spoke. “What about business? Isn’t it a fact that right before you left the firm you agreed to represent him in a brand new business venture he was starting?”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “You heard him testify, didn’t you?” Mattingly stared at her for several moments.

  Megan held his gaze.

  “You’re saying that my client isn’t telling the truth? He’s lying.”

  The whole courtroom was silent. Megan cast a glance at the reporters sitting in the gallery. Their eyes were fixed on her.

  “I’m saying that we had no business or personal relationship outside of the office. I never discussed or agreed to represent him in any business venture.”

  Mattingly walked up to the witness stand and stopped directly in front of her. He was so close Megan wanted to push back the chair in the witness box but she didn’t. She knew he was trying to intimidate her. “So, he’s lying.” He paused. “He’s a liar. That’s what you’re saying, Ms. O’Reilly. Isn’t it.”

  Megan knew exactly what his game was. People didn’t like it when a witness claimed another person was a liar—even if it was true it didn’t sit well.

  Megan sat quietly and gathered her words. “I’m saying, Mr. Mattingly, that I have never been Craig Tarkington’s attorney. I learned nothing about him while I was training him to work in the office.”

  Mattingly walked back to his seat, turned, and looked at her.

  “You were fired from the firm, were you not?”

  Megan felt a dagger of white hot anger cut through her.

  Windfield shot up from his chair. “Objection, Your Honor! Mr. Mattingly is assuming facts not in evidence.”

  “Poor performance, I believe.” Mattingly smiled.

  “Again, he’s arguing with the witness,” Windfield said.

  “This is cross examination and I have the right to—” Mattingly said loudly, talking over Windfield.

  Judge Crawford slammed the gavel down.

  Megan jumped.

  “Order in the court!” the judge yelled.

  Megan cast a glance at Mattingly and Windfield. They both looked like two little boys who had been scolded and were being sent to the principal’s office.

  “Counsel, I highly suggest you both listen to me carefully, “Judge Crawford yelled, banging his gavel on the bench. He peered down at them. “We have already had enough drama in this case this morning with the media, and the Court is not tolerating anymore.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “This hearing was set for one hour and we’ve already exceeded that. I suggest we move this matter along. I have other hearings.” He tossed the gavel down, let out a sigh of exasperation, and looked at Windfield sternly. “Objection overruled. Continue, Mr. Mattingly,” he said curtly.

  “You’ve been unemployed now for several months.”

  Megan said nothing. “Being hired by a guy like Craig Tarkington would pay well and help you out financially, wouldn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I was never hired by him,” Megan answered calmly.

  “So how have you been getting by since you were fired? I imagine you have the same lifestyle, just not the income?”

  Windfield was on his feet again. “Judge, this is not appropriate questioning. Mr. Mattingly is….”

  “I’m allowing it, counsel,” the Judge said, interrupting him. “Proceed, Mr. Mattingly.”

  “Do I need to repeat the question, Ms. O’Reilly?”

  “No.” She paused. “I have my own resources and private clients—and Craig Tarkington isn’t one of them.” She cast a glance over at Tarkington. He was looking down, taking notes.

  Judge Crawford rubbed his face and let out a sigh. “Counsel, the Court is clear on what the testimony is. I understand the parties’ respective positions.’’

  Megan could tell Judge Crawford was at the end of his rope. She’d never practiced in front of him but she’d heard the stories. According to other lawyers who knew him, he allowed people to testify only for so long and then he was done. If he felt he didn’t need any more information he would shut down a hearing. This behavior was often criticized by lawyers and it often put them in a difficult position with clients who wanted the Court to hear more testimony.

  “Mr. Mattingly, the Court does have a question.”

  Everyone looked at Judge Crawford then at Mattingly.

  “Does anyone have a copy of this employment contract between Mr. Tarkington and Ms. O’Reilly I have heard about?”

  “Yes sir we do. It clearly shows what Ms. O’Reilly and Mr. Tarkington agreed to”

  Tarkington picked his briefcase up off the floor, snapped it open, and pulled out a file folder. He flipped the folder open and began rifling through the contents. After a few moments he stopped, extracted a sheet of paper, and gave it to Mattingly. Mattingly looked at it. “May we approach the bench, Your Honor?”

  Judge Crawford nodded. Mattingly handed him the paper.

  “Have you seen this, Mr. Windfield?” Judge Crawford asked.

  Megan felt her chest tighten. She had no clue what was going on but she didn’t feel good about it.

  The Judge handed the paper to Windfield who quickly read it.

  “May I show this to my client?”

  Judge Crawford nodded.

  Windfield walked over to the witness stand and handed the paper to Megan. It was an employment contract between her and Tarkington.

  Megan couldn’t believe it. “I’ve never seen this,” she said, shaking her head. “Never.” Windfield was reading the document over her shoulder. She took her finger and pointed to the bottom of the page and looked at him.

  Windfield took the paper and walked back to the bench. “This document is not signed by Ms. O’Reilly, just by Mr. Tarkington.” He put the paper on the bench.

  Judge Crawford looked at Mattingly. “Is there a signed copy?”

  Mattingly hurried over to Tarkington and whispered to him, then returned to the bench.

  “My client indicates that he does not have the signed copy. Ms. O’Reilly should have it.”

  Megan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She cut a glance at Tarkington. He looked away.

  “My client has never seen this document before,” Windfield said angrily. “She certainly doesn’t have a copy of it.”

  The room fell silent.

  Everyone watched as Judge Crawford scribbled something on a legal pad.

  “Very well then.” He put the pen down, leaned forward, and folded his hands. “The Court, having heard and considered the evidence, finds that the defense has failed to show cause as to why Ms. O’Reilly should be removed as the special prosecutor in this matter. The Court finds no conflict. Record is closed.” Judge Crawford got up and walked off the bench.

  Megan looked at Windfield. She was stunned. She knew that Mattingly and Tarkington would come at her tooth and claw but fabricating evidence? She sat for a few seconds just trying to take in what had happened.

  “The disciplinary commission might have a different opinion.” Mattingly said looking at Megan. “Lawyers lose their licenses for doing things like you’ve done.” He snapped his briefcase shut and headed for the large double door with Tarkington following. Before they could get there the door flew open and the press came rushing into the courtroom, yelling questions and demanding interviews.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Megan looked in the rearview mirror. The car was still behind her. She had first noticed it when she pulled out of the parking lot of Alonzo’s Café. A sleek black BMW sedan with tinted windows. It had stayed behind her for the last several miles. She kept an eye on it and on the road. The drive home took around a half hour and the roads were curvy and not very populated at this time
of night. Her phone started ringing. She looked at the screen on the dashboard. Blocked number. She pushed the Decline button.

  She speeded up and the car behind her followed. She decided to take the back way home and turned onto Alhambra Road. The sedan turned too. Megan felt a nervous energy course through her body. Her phone started ringing again. Still Blocked number.

  She looked in the rearview mirror. The car was close but she couldn’t make out the driver. It was dark out and the windows were tinted. She pressed her foot to the accelerator. Her house was only a mile away. She grabbed her phone and pressed a preset button.

  “What is your emergency?” a voice said.

  “This is Megan O’Reilly. I want security to meet me at my house. I’ve been followed for miles by someone driving a black BMW sedan. No matter where I turn it follows me and I’m concerned.” She looked in the rearview mirror. The car was still there. It was at times like this that Megan was grateful to have a private security firm monitoring her neighborhood. It cost the residents extra each month but it was well worth it. She gave the operator her address. “ I’m about five minutes from my driveway.”

  “An officer will be waiting.”

  As Megan hung up she saw a flash of light in the rearview mirror. Whoever was in the car behind her was flashing their lights at her. She ignored them and drove on. She wound her way up her driveway and stopped. There was a security guard waiting for her by her front door. The sedan pulled up behind her and stopped as well.

  The guard walked over to the driver’s side of the car. Megan heard the whir of the window being lowered.

  “Good evening, officer,” a deep voice said. “I’m sorry to have startled Ms. O’Reilly. She knows me.”

  Megan recognized the voice but couldn’t place it. She got out of her car and went over to where the officer was standing.

  “Justice Tarkington,” she said in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry to have frightened you.” The Supreme Court justice went on to explain that he was having dinner at the same restaurant and had seen Megan. She had left a little ahead of him and he had tried, but couldn’t get her attention. By the time he got to the parking lot she was in her car getting ready to pull out. “I tried to call you a couple of times but got your voicemail,” he said smiling.

  The officer gaped at Justice Tarkington, and then looked at Megan. “Do you know him?”

  Megan nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have called you for nothing.”

  “Not a problem,” the officer said, looking with wide eyes at Justice Tarkington, who was still sitting in his car. “Have a good evening.” Megan saw the shocked expression on his face as he drove away.

  Justice Tarkington got out of the car. “Good to see you, Megan.” He extended his hand.

  Megan was at a loss for words. Except once, at a Christmas party at the firm right after she had started working there, she hadn’t seen Justice Tarkington since she had clerked for him right out of law school. Even when she clerked for him, she didn’t have much direct contact. His personal secretary usually gave her instructions about what Judge Tarkington needed researched and proofed the briefs she wrote. He was always polite but kept a distance. And that had been when he was only a federal judge. She was stunned at the sight of him now, a Supreme Court justice, standing in her driveway.

  “Do you have a few moments to talk?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Megan unlocked her front door and invited him in. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. I won’t take much of your time.”

  Megan motioned toward the living room. “Make yourself comfortable.” She sat down in one of two leather chairs and Justice Tarkington sat across from her on the couch. A large square coffee table was between them. On top were newspapers with Craig Tarkington’s trial coverage.

  Justice Tarkington leaned back and crossed his legs. “Megan, I want you to know that I had nothing to do with your getting fired from the firm.” He shook his head. “I had no clue that had happened until after the fact.”

  Megan said nothing. She was still stunned that he was sitting in her living room. Justice Arthur M. Tarkington, Supreme Court justice, founder of the top law firm in D.C., not to mention the real reason she even got a job at the firm. Being his law clerk had opened a door to a world she probably wouldn’t have been privy to otherwise.

  “I’ve wanted to tell you that for sometime.”

  Megan shifted in her chair. “It was a big shock to me,” she said.

  Justice Tarkington nodded. The room fell silent. Megan felt awkward and uncomfortable.

  “Although I’m on the bench and not practicing law anymore, I try to keep tabs on the firm. I don’t agree with what happened to you and I want to make it right.”

  Megan blinked. She had no clue where this was going.

  “Let me cut to the chase. I would like to offer you full reinstatement to your position with full back pay. I’m happy to suggest the firm make you a senior partner as well.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If what he was offering happened she would be set for life.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Her mind was racing trying to make sense of it all. She leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees. “Who all knows you are doing this?”

  “No one, but they’ll go along with me.” He smiled.

  Of course they would. When Supreme Court Justice Tarkington spoke they all listened and jumped just as high as he wanted. Maybe she would too. In the legal world he was practically God.

  “I want the firm back the way it used to be before all this nonsense.” He waved his hand in the air. “The firm has made a poor choice getting rid of you. I’m also concerned about…” his voice trailed off.

  “Craig,” Megan said, filling in the blank. She could see Justice Tarkington’s expression darken.

  He let out a sigh. “That grandson of mine may be a lot of things but he isn’t a rapist.” He folded his hands and looked at the floor. “I’d like to ask you to consider stepping down as special prosecutor in the criminal matter and coming back to work for the firm.”

  “The case can still go forward without me, sir.” Megan looked at the deep lines etched in his face. He had aged a lot since she saw him at that Christmas party ten years ago.

  “Yes, it can. But it doesn’t have to go forward with you being a part of it.” He glanced at her and then averted his eyes.

  “There were other people who were wrongfully fired besides me. “ Megan could see his expression change

  “If you accept my offer I will suggest they all be rehired with full reinstatement just like what I have offered you.’’

  He stood up and picked up his coat. “You think about it and let me know. If you’re interested I’d like to get this matter resolved and get you back to work in the next couple of weeks. That should give you time to let Mr. Windfield know you’re leaving the prosecution team. Good to see you, Megan. I look forward to hearing from you.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card. On the back he had written a phone number. “Here’s my private cell.” He pressed the card into her hand and left.

  Megan shut the door behind him and leaned against it. What had just happened? Old Man Tarkington was willing to give her everything plus partner status. Of course he was upset about the charges against his grandson, and he might even want to get rid of the lawsuit against the firm. But why didn’t he want her involved in prosecuting Craig?

  Megan collapsed on her couch. She clicked on the TV but couldn’t concentrate on anything. She kept coming back to the same question over and over: What was it about her in particular that made him want to get rid of her? Try as she might she couldn’t think of anything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Megan looked around the room. Windfield had given her an office on the same floor as his and only a few doors down. She was back in the prosecutor’s office, this time not as a pup out of law school handling sm
all-time cases but as a special prosecutor handling a high-profile case.

  She leaned back in the leather chair, turned Justice Tarkington’s business card over in her hand, and looked at the phone number written on the back of it. She sat for several moments thinking about what Justice Tarkington had said to her.

  It had been two days since he followed her home and offered her reinstatement as a partner in the firm. It still didn’t seem real. Nothing seemed real anymore. Since taking on Lucy’s case a month ago, she’d felt like she was on a roller coaster. One moment she felt she was the right person to champion Lucy’s cause and the next she wondered if she had lost her touch in handling criminal cases. The last case she had tried, more than ten years ago, had been Lisa Garrett. To this day she was haunted by that loss. Now that she was special prosecutor the stakes were higher than ever. She had absolutely no privacy with the press always lurking around.

  Every time she turned around it seemed like some reporter was trying to get a comment from her or a TV station wanted an interview. Earlier in the week, when she left her house to go to work she was met in her driveway by a reporter for one of the local news stations.

  And since accepting the position her days had been crazy busy preparing the case and her nights had been mostly sleepless as she tossed and turned going over it in her head. At the office she had gone over the police reports and put together a list of possible attacks the defense might make on Lucy. If the evidence was tight enough, the only real attack the defense could make would be on Lucy’s credibility. She had gone over the night of the rape with Lucy several times making sure her testimony was solid—and it was. She’d had what seemed like endless meetings with Windfield.

  Megan had given Justice Tarkington’s offer a lot of thought in the last two days. She hadn’t mentioned the offer to any of the other women who’d filed suit with her. She wanted to be clear about what she wanted to do before she brought it up to them.

  She put the card back in her purse. People at the prosecutor’s office pretty much respected each other’s privacy, but she couldn’t take a chance that someone might see she had Justice Tarkington’s card with his cell phone number written on the back.