Dying Declaration (18 page)

Embarrassed, ashamed, angry, and scared, Erica turned and shuffled quickly toward the door. Her hands shook as she navigated her way from one object to the next. She bumped into a man, almost spilling his beer. As she approached the front door, she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the woman turn for the ladies’ room. But in that instant, the split second when the woman passed under one of the dim lights and headed down the hallway, Erica got a perfect look at her profile.

She looked to be midthirties, nice looking but not a knockout. She had short, layered blonde hair (probably bleached), a dark tan, narrow eyes, and full crimson red lips. She had the serious look of a career woman on a mission.

It was a look and a face that Erica would never forget.

She felt her anger boiling over, her stomach catching fire. She lost her focus on the seductress and things went into a spin. She had to get out of this place and get some air. She had to get home.

She staggered to her car and sat there in silence, her eyes closed, while she waited for her head to clear. After a few minutes she knew it wasn’t going to get much better. She could make it. She would have to. With trembling hands—the hands she had learned to hate—she dumped the cappuccino on the ground, put the cinnamon roll right behind the front tire, then started the car, put it in reverse, and backed out of her parking space.

A few minutes later, after she reached the interstate, the tears began to flow.

29

IN NIKKI’S HUMBLE
but informed opinion, this hearing was not Harry Pursifull’s finest hour. He had arrived fifteen minutes late, causing Judge Silverman to “drop the hearing down half an hour” while he tended to other matters.

When Harry did show up, he looked even more disheveled than usual. Due to a relentless breeze outside, Harry’s greasy hair,
which he parted just above the ear and then threw over the top of his balding pate, had come unglued from the top of his head and hung in greasy strands well below his left ear. To fix this, Harry would self-consciously reach up and smear the hair back into place. It fell back down a few minutes later. Adding to the effect, Harry’s shirt was unbuttoned around the neck,
and his plaid suit coat appeared to have shrunk even since the last time he wore it. His pants, as always, were too small at the waist and too short in the inseam. He had pulled his belt tight, too tight, and formed his round little body into the shape a balloon takes when someone squeezes his hands around it, causing parts of the balloon to bulge out in all directions.

Harry had a hard time finding the thin Hammond case file in his overstuffed briefcase, and he had not read the report from the Child Protective Services caseworker. Nikki tried to fill him in on the details before Judge Silverman called the case,
but Harry was no quick study. “I’ll just wing it,” he told Nikki.

And wing it he did.

Once the hearing started, the Barracuda strutted and preened around the courtroom, making all manner of accusation against Thomas and Theresa Hammond, which Harry made no effort to rebut. Thomas himself took it all in stride, sitting stoically at the defense counsel table adorned in his standard-issue orange jumpsuit. Theresa sat next to him, much more emotionally involved in the proceedings, her body language revealing her deep distress at the accusations the Barracuda flung her way. She would lean over and whisper vigorously into Thomas’s ear, and he would calm her down with a nod of understanding or a word of comfort.

Mercifully, the kids had stayed in school. Nikki knew it wouldn’t help for them to witness this fiasco.

The Barracuda submitted the Child Protective Services report and carefully built her case through her examination of Dr. Isabell Byrd. Throughout Byrd’s testimony, Harry employed his classic bump-on-the-log strategy, not making any objections despite repeated urgings from Nikki, who positioned herself directly behind him.

“That’s ridiculous,” Nikki would whisper, loud enough for Harry to hear. “Don’t let her get away with that!
Object
, for goodness’ sake!”

But all of this running commentary was lost on Harry, who showed an amazing ability not to be motivated by his clients or Nikki or even angered by the Barracuda’s cheap shots. Harry just sat there like a rock, immobile and uninspired.

“Dr. Byrd, were your opinions regarding the unfit nature of Mr. Hammond as a father reinforced by the events of these last several days in the Virginia Beach City Jail?” the Barracuda asked.

“Oh yes, they were,” the witness chirped.

“In what way?”

“Well, according to information I obtained from my interviews with jail personnel, Mr. Hammond has been in at least two serious fights since being incarcerated just a few days ago.” Dr. Byrd spoke rapidly, wringing her hands as she talked. “This is consistent with the opinions I formed from interviewing the children—that Mr. Hammond has difficulty controlling his temper and that he physically abused the children when his anger got out of control.”

Nikki glanced from the rounded back of Harry—the man was barely breathing—to the back of Thomas Hammond. She saw the color rising in Thomas’s neck; his ears seemed to be on fire.
I even warned him! How dumb is this man? “Don’t get involved in anyone else’s business,” I told him. “Take care of yourself. . . . Trust no one.” Instead, the big man apparently decides to turn the jail into his own private boxing ring. Maybe he deserves this.

But the kids sure don’t.

“And did your interviews with the children tell you anything further about the fitness of either parent to maintain custody pending trial?” the Barracuda asked.

“Yes, they did.”

The Barracuda lifted her eyebrows and motioned with her hands, prompting the witness to continue.

“Well, Your Honor,” Dr. Byrd said, turning her attention away from the defendants and looking directly at the judge. “There is some evidence that indicates possible sexual abuse.”

A gasp went up from Theresa Hammond. Even Thomas seemed startled by this accusation.

“I’m not prepared at this point to say such abuse
has
occurred,” the doctor clarified, “but I would not risk putting the children back in that type of environment.”

“What’s the basis for your suspicion?” Silverman asked. He leaned forward, deep ruts of concern lining his forehead.

“The little boy, John Paul, said that his father would frequently come into his bedroom in the middle of the night and lie down with him. This caused my initial concern. I could tell the young man was very nervous and intimidated when he tried to talk about this, so I gave him some anatomically correct dolls to play with. We then role-played with them, involving him,
his sister, and his parents. Judge, he described the types of activities that I see time and time again described by children of abusive parents. The larger dolls, the parents, would fight with and harm the smaller dolls, and so on.”

“Did he describe any sexual activity?” Silverman asked skeptically.

“Not at that time,” the witness said. “But it is not unusual for children to suppress that type of information, even when using the dolls as proxies, until much later in the process. I first have to develop a higher level of trust with this child. That’s why I said I’m concerned, but it’s not conclusive.”

Silverman leaned back in his chair and gazed toward the back wall. “Okay,” he said at last. “Anything else?”

“One further question,” the Barracuda responded. “Do you have an opinion, Doctor, as to whether leaving these kids in the custody of their mother might impact the ability of the commonwealth to get a fair trial in this case?”

“Oh yes, that’s a major problem. You see, leaving the kids in the mother’s custody pending trial is a bad solution for two reasons. First, it’s my understanding that Theresa Hammond will have to work full-time to support the household so long as her husband is in prison. So putting the children in her custody really means putting them in the custody of a day care center as soon as school is out for the summer.

“And second, I’m concerned about the effect this would have on their trial testimony. Theresa Hammond is only human. By living with her pending trial, the kids would be influenced by her recollection of the events surrounding Joshua’s death and by her subtle influences concerning what their own recollections should be. It’s inevitable. I’m not saying that Mrs. Hammond would do this intentionally, I’m just saying that it’s bound to happen.”

“Thank you, Dr. Byrd, that’s all I have. Please answer any questions from Mr. Pursifull.”

“Nothing at this point, Yer Honor,” Harry said without standing. He leaned over to whisper in the ear of Thomas Hammond. Nikki slid forward so she could hear.

“Her testimony wasn’t too bad,” Harry bragged. “Sometimes when you cross-examine an expert as sharp as her, it just makes things worse.”

Thomas Hammond didn’t respond.

“Does defense counsel have any witnesses?” Silverman asked. It seemed more of a plea than a question.

Harry at least expended the energy to stand this time. “Not at this time, Yer Honor,” he said confidently.

“All right then,” Silverman sighed, “if we are done hearing evidence, I’ll entertain arguments from both counsel. Ms. Crawford,
why don’t we start with you?”

For the next twenty minutes, the Barracuda laid out a powerful argument. Nikki fumed as she listened to the distortions, half-truths,
and hyperbole that flowed so freely from the prosecutor’s mouth. And somewhere in the midst of that compelling argument, with Harry Pursifull sitting silently by and her blood running hot with anger at the hypocrisy and manipulations of this woman with the mesmerizing lips, Nikki decided to take a
very
personal interest in this case. Nikki herself would look after these kids, these little monsters who had stolen her heart. Nikki would get a lawyer for the parents, a
real
lawyer, who would give the Barracuda more than she bargained for. She would love to see her own boss, Brad Carson, defend this case, but she knew he was busy with high-paying personal-injury clients and didn’t have the time. But Nikki did have some other ideas. On her own time and free of charge, she would investigate this case and mastermind the defense.

After he heard the arguments of the lawyers, Judge Silverman ruled that the children would not be returned to their parents pending trial. He said he didn’t have much choice based on the evidence presented. But Nikki was determined that the kids not be sent to a foster home, and so she surprised everyone, including herself, by volunteering to take care of them until the trial was over.

Silverman stared at her for a moment, as if caught off guard by this request, though Nikki was pretty sure he had actually anticipated it. Slowly his expression changed as he turned to the Barracuda.

“Ms. Crawford,” he said, “do you mind if I recall Dr. Byrd to the stand for a few questions of my own?”

“No, Your Honor,” the Barracuda said suspiciously. Her tone of voice and contorted facial expression turned it into more of a question than an answer.

Silverman pretended not to notice and focused on a somewhat nervous Dr. Byrd, who slowly climbed back into the witness chair.

“Is it fair to say that every time the caregiver for these children is changed, it represents major trauma in their lives?”
the judge asked.

The witness fidgeted. “Yes, sir.”

“And that can be particularly damaging to the psyche of a child when the caregiver is changed in the middle of other traumatic circumstances in their lives, like having their father placed in jail?”

“Yes, that’s also true.”

“And based on your visits with the children, do you have any reason to believe that Ms. Moreno, their current guardian, is not providing quality care or will somehow bias their testimony in this case?”

The witness fidgeted again; it seemed she just couldn’t get comfortable in her chair. She looked at the Barracuda for help. As if by instinct, Crawford stood to object, but then apparently remembered that these were the questions of a judge, not an adversary. As quickly as she rose, the Barracuda sat back down.

“I have not investigated Ms. Moreno. But I have no reason to believe that she wouldn’t provide excellent care for these children pending trial. However, I would note, that if the parents are convicted, then the children would be forced to change caregivers once again, and that would be at a particularly tough time in their young lives.”

Judge Silverman scowled at the witness after this little piece of volunteered information. “How about if we cross that bridge when we come to it and in the meantime give the parents the benefit of the presumption of innocence.”

“Very well,” the chastised doctor said.

“Then based on the testimony from the commonwealth’s expert,” Silverman announced, “I will order that the children remain in the guardianship of Ms. Nikki Moreno pending trial.” Silverman turned to the witness. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Dr. Byrd slinked off the witness stand and took a seat next to the Barracuda. Crawford ignored her.

“Now, Counsel, let’s pick a date for a preliminary hearing and for a trial.”

The Barracuda jumped to her feet again. She undoubtedly wanted to look ready to prosecute the case immediately, content in the knowledge that Harry would stall until well after the fall elections. “The commonwealth is ready to try this case on the first available date.”

This time Harry left his seat like a rocket. “Not so fast,” he exclaimed. “There are witnesses to prepare, investigations to conduct, all that kind of stuff. We’ll need at least . . .” Harry pulled out his pocket Day-Timer. He studied it and made a few faces and guttural noises, like he was trying to decide which important cases could be bumped or delayed in favor of this one. “At least six months.”

“What!”
The word came from Harry’s own client, the stoic Thomas Hammond, who had not said a word all morning. He articulated Nikki’s thoughts exactly.

“You may want to confer with your client,” Silverman suggested.

Nikki watched the heated and hushed discussion between lawyer and client with amusement. There was loud whispering, which grew louder, and a folding of arms by Thomas. Finally, reluctantly, Harry stood back up and announced their joint decision.

“We want the first date possible for the preliminary hearing,” he said, “and the first date after that for trial.”

Calendars came flying out and negotiations between the court, the commonwealth, and Harry Pursifull began in earnest. The Barracuda was not about to back down, especially with the press present, and Harry didn’t have any choice, not with Thomas listening carefully to every word. So when Judge Silverman suggested a preliminary hearing the following Wednesday, with a trial to commence exactly three weeks later, neither of the lawyers objected.

This schedule will work havoc on my tan,
Nikki thought, as she prepared to break the news to the children.