Aftermath (46 page)

Camille touched Frankie's hand. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn't. He had been cruel to her since deciding he wanted out of their marriage. But she still loved him and hated to see him hurting so badly.

“We all have regrets,” she said. “And all of us can find reasons to blame ourselves. But the truth is that none of us are at fault for what Steven did. None of us could have known … Frankie, all we can do is try to pick up the pieces and move on. Soon, we're going to be parents and we've gotta figure out how to get along and get past what happened.”

He smiled slightly. “That's why I came over here,” he said, chuckling uneasily. “Figured breakfast would be my olive branch.”

Camille smiled weakly at him. “It's a good start.”

Frankie reached out his hand, inching it slowly toward her swollen belly. Camille watched him as he touched her stomach softly, feeling the tightness and drawing his hand back in shock. “Oh my God!” he said, surprised by the way it felt.

Camille took his hand and placed it back on her belly, holding it there this time as Frankie's face contorted in amazement. His eyes widened in wonder as the baby moved within her womb, kicking his hand.

Frankie wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “That feels crazy!”

Camille smiled at him, happy that he was sharing in the excitement of her pregnancy at last. Better late than never.

Frankie questioned her for more than an hour about her pregnancy—what she was feeling, what foods she craved, how often the baby moved, what vitamins she was taking, how often she went to the doctor, and even how she handled swollen ankles. Finally, as the hour drew near for court to begin, Frankie rose to leave. He looked at Camille awkwardly. He wanted to give her a hug, but worried that she might think that he wanted to reconcile. He didn't. Frankie wanted nothing more than to sort out what happened in his childhood so that he could be a better parent to the child he was about to have. He prayed that both Gillian and Camille would give him the space he needed to do that.

But as he stared down at his wife, glowing with his child in her womb, he felt so much love for her. Despite all that he had done to her, she was still willing to listen to him, still willing to forgive him. He thought she looked more beautiful standing there then she had in years. Taking her face in his hands, Frankie kissed Camille softly on her lips. Looking at her for a moment, he paused before kissing her again. Then he turned and left. Camille lingered in the doorway long after his car pulled away. She hated how much she loved that man.

*   *   *

The prosecutor was
presenting his grand finale and the jury was spellbound.

“Misa Atkinson showed a depraved indifference for human life when she shot Steven Bingham in cold blood on January 5, 2008. It was a premeditated act of murder, nothing less. She went to her sister's house in the middle of the night, stalking her brother-in-law because she decided that he was guilty of a crime he may or may not have committed.”

Frankie cringed a little then. He looked at his mother who sat with her eyes straight ahead, her hands clutching a rosary as usual.

“We'll never know beyond a reasonable doubt whether or not Steven Bingham molested Shane because he's no longer alive for us to determine that. Misa Atkinson took matters into her own hands that night. She went there armed with a gun and she waited in the dark. By her own admission, she sat there and waited for Steven for close to an hour—time enough for her to reconsider, to come to her senses and call the police. She didn't share her suspicions about Steven with anybody—not a single soul. Instead, she ambushed him.

“She shot him six times, ladies and gentlemen. The first shot hit him in the chest. Forensics has determined that he was not moving, therefore posing no threat to Misa Atkinson when she plugged a bullet in his chest. According to her testimony, he continued advancing toward her—perhaps in a desperate attempt to stop her before she pulled the trigger again. But she did just that. She shot him twice more—both shots to the head.”

Mary couldn't stop the tears that fell now, slowly down her face, as she imagined her son riddled that way.

“He had surely fallen by then,” the prosecutor surmised. “And yet Misa Atkinson continued firing, hitting Steven Bingham three more times in the legs and torso.” He paused for dramatic effect, letting the jury imagine that. “When all her ammunition was gone, she sat there, showing no regard for the law or for human life, and waited for her sister to come home.” He looked at Misa with such contempt that she wondered if he'd been friends with Steven or something. He was taking this far too personally.

The jury was watching everything.

“Misa Atkinson was a terrible mother. She abandoned her son for weeks at a time with his aunt, hiding behind single motherhood as an excuse for poor parenting. Rather than admit her own flaws, she's more content to remind us that Shane's father has a new girlfriend he's more interested in than anything. There are thousands of single women across the country who manage to spend more than a few days a month with their children. When her shortcomings as a mother were brought to the forefront, she went looking for someone else to blame for it. And she set her sights on a target, and executed that target, showing no remorse. She hasn't apologized once for what she did. In fact, she said—under oath—that Steven Bingham deserved it.
She
decided that he deserved it.”

He looked at the jury, standing close to them and making eye contact with each one. “That's vigilante justice. Imagine if it was your son, or your brother. As a favor to a friend, he babysits a toddler. And God forbid, that toddler has been victimized. Your brother, your son is the first person the parents suspect. And rather than giving your loved one the chance to defend themselves, the parents take matters into their own hands. They kill
your
loved one and then claim self-defense. That's not justice. That's murder. And that's how we ask you to find Misa Atkinson—
guilty
of murder in the first degree.”

Misa was shaken by the prosecutor's closing argument. He had made her sound so completely guilty that she wondered if the plea deal was still on the table.

Teresa rose from her seat and walked slowly toward the center of the jury pool.

“Sometimes the justice system insults our intelligence,” she said. “Sometimes, when lawyers get caught up in filing motions and objections, the process of finding out the truth gets clouded by a whole bunch of rhetoric. You can almost miss the bottom line.

“The facts of this case are simple. Shane Crowley, three years old, was molested. We heard grueling testimony about the anal lacerations he suffered, the sure signs that he had been violated by an adult entrusted with his care. Misa Atkinson, perhaps not the most attentive mother, but without question a mother who loves her son, was tormented by the suspicion that Steven Bingham was the predator who assaulted her son. She was almost certain that it was him, but she wasn't sure. Put yourself in her shoes for a moment. My client testified that she was suicidal that night. She was so overwrought with grief over what had been done to Shane that she wasn't thinking straight. She was angry, confused, desperate for answers, and afraid when she went over to her sister's house that night.

“Misa Atkinson wasn't a woman hell-bent on revenge. She was a mother frantically searching for answers about what had been done to her only child. She told Steven Bingham what she suspected and he laughed at her. Put yourself in her shoes. Upon hearing that three-year-old Shane Crowley had been sodomized, Steven Bingham didn't show concern. He didn't act in any way compassionate. We heard testimony that he was abused himself as a child, and yet he showed no sympathy towards Shane. When Misa Atkinson told Steven Bingham what had been done to her son, he laughed at her. ‘The little muthafucka is lying!' he said. And he laughed at her, laughed at her son, and at the pain that he had caused them.

“Faced with the reality of the situation—that Misa was certain to share her suspicions with her sister, with his brother, Frankie, Steven charged at Misa. She was grateful in that moment that she had brought the gun with her for protection. Her hands trembling in fear, she testified that she hoped the sight of the gun would be enough to stop him in his tracks. She was praying the entire time that he wouldn't make her pull the trigger.”

Teresa paused and looked at the jury seriously. She deserved an Oscar for best summation. “But Steven Bingham didn't stop. He didn't possess the self-control necessary to stop that night. He certainly wouldn't have stopped with Shane. He would have gone on to abuse other children and to try and intimidate other mothers, but Misa Atkinson didn't let him win that night. As he charged at her, prepared to take the gun out of her very hands, she reacted in self-defense, firing. This single mother born and raised in the Stapleton projects is not a card-carrying member of the NRA. She was never trained to shoot a gun, had never been to target practice. When that gun went off, she wasn't even sure she had hit her mark. She testified that even after being struck by the first bullet, Steven kept advancing on her. Misa Atkinson—seeing the man who she believed had assaulted her son barreling down on her with a sinister smile on his face—she snapped! In that moment, she lost all ability to reason. The gun in her hands kept firing, her finger kept squeezing the trigger. But she was a mother blinded by thoughts of what had been done to her son. Her ears were filled with a pedophile's laughter, taunting her and daring her to defend herself.

“Throughout this trial, some of the testimony may have made it hard for you to remember the bottom line. The bottom line is Shane Crowley was molested. His mother knew who did it and she went to confront him. Steven Bingham—the man who Shane himself has pointed to as his molester—charged at Misa Atkinson, causing her to fire her weapon in self-defense. When that first shot didn't stop him, she kept firing until he stopped moving. That's a case of self-defense, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. And self-defense is not first-degree murder. That's the bottom line.”

Teresa went back to her seat and prayed she had said enough to get her client the acquittal she deserved.

Judge Felder gave the jury instructions on their deliberations, reminding them that to find Misa guilty, they must agree beyond a reasonable doubt that she had intentionally set out to kill Steven that night. When the jury had been dismissed to deliberate, court was adjourned and everyone began to leave in order to await their decision.

Gillian was right by Frankie's side as usual, and she watched him staring at Camille across the courtroom. Camille was standing in a semicircle of women, all of whom were admiring her pregnant belly. Frankie's face spread into an involuntary smile as he watched them all admiring the child he had helped create—the child he hadn't even wanted until now. He wasn't sure when his mind had changed, but suddenly he had been filled with a deep desire for fatherhood. He couldn't help wondering if it was some subconscious attempt to right so many of the wrongs in his life.

Camille looked up and caught him staring at her, his facial expression so proud. She smiled back at him and noticed Gillian standing close by, looking furious.

Dominique noticed, too, and she discreetly whispered to her friend. “Looks like the tables are turned. Gillian wants to scratch your eyes out.”

Camille nodded and strolled right on over toward Frankie and Gillian. Shocked, Toya and Dominique followed at a safe distance.

Gillian noticed Camille heading in their direction and frowned. “Frankie,” she said, to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. “What's all this about?” She was referring to the way he was smiling at his supposed ex-wife.

He looked at Gillian and shrugged. “I don't know,” he said honestly. He really didn't know what had changed in him. But suddenly, all he wanted was the baby Camille had been begging him for years to give her.

Camille arrived at Frankie's side and she pretended not to see Gillian leering at her nearby. “Hey,” she said to Frankie. “Just wanted to come and tell you that my sonogram is next week. Thursday. If you want to come—”

“I definitely want to come,” he said, cutting her off.

Gillian looked at Frankie like he was an alien.

“All right,” Camille said, nodding. “I'll text you the information.” She smiled at Frankie, happy that he was coming back around. “I enjoyed breakfast this morning,” she said, aware that Gillian was listening to every word. “Let's do it again soon.”

Camille walked off with Dominique and Toya exchanging confused looks. They trotted out after her, anxious to hear about this morning's breakfast.

Gillian was, too. She watched as Frankie looked at her, his expression showing that he knew he was busted.

“Let's go somewhere and talk,” he said.

And just like that, Gillian knew that her love affair with Frankie Bingham was over.

The Verdict

Everyone had poured into Celia's New Jersey home. She had insisted that everyone come back to her New Jersey estate to await word of the jury's decision. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon and it was possible that they could render a decision that day. Gathering at this house would ensure that they were all close enough to Staten Island to get back there immediately in case there was breaking news.

Toya and Dominique were floored by the splendor of the opulent home. Baron had lived here after Celia had moved to North Carolina, so Misa was very familiar with this house. She had spent many nights being ravaged by him within the confines of these four walls and she marveled now at the different circumstances under which she was there today.

Camille's house was being sold and Misa had relinquished her Staten Island apartment. Both of them had been living with their mother out on Long Island. Misa and Baron had bonded under their recent circumstances, talking on the phone often, and Misa believed he had become a different man. Since the trial started, though, she hadn't had the time to visit with him.