Not Dead Yet (3 page)

Theia sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.  She had seen this so many times.  Even when domestic violence victims got up the courage to file for orders of protection, they were often too afraid to testify in court against their abusers.  Theia wanted to help Rose, but if she did not testify, Theia could not help her.  Theia felt a sharp twinge at the back of her head, a sure sign of an impending stress headache.

“Judge, could I have a minute with my client please?”

“Mrs. Catalino, if you deny the allegations in your petition, I will have no choice but to deny your request for an order of protection,” Judge Hamilton warned.  “Ms. Pearson, please speak to your client.”

Theia and Rose sat down at counsel table and angled to face each other.  Theia sat rigidly, refusing to succumb to the discomfort of the heat in the courtroom.  She handed Rose the cup of water again and whispered, “Rose, you have to tell the judge what happened or he can’t help you.  If you don’t testify, the judge won’t have any evidence.  He has to have evidence in order to grant you an order of protection.  Donald beat the crap out of you, and he has been doing this for years.  You have to stop him before he kills you.  I know how hard this is, but you have to tell the judge what happened so he can help you.  Keep thinking about a new life, Rose.  You have to get through this to get to your flower shop.  This is only a few minutes, and it will change your whole life for the better.  Here is the petition you filled out asking for the order of protection,” Theia held the document out toward Rose.  “This is what you need to tell the judge,” Theia urged, pointing to the pertinent paragraphs with her pen.  More sweat trickled down her back and sides, under her suit.

“I’m sorry.  I just can’t go through with it.  I’m so scared.”  Rose squeezed her eyes shut as she forced herself to swallow a sip of water then set the cup back down on the table. She tucked her fingers under her thighs and rocked back and forth in her seat on the hard wooden chair.

“I understand, Rose, and I know you are afraid,” Theia replied.  “What do you need to help you get through this?  Do you want to take a break?  I can ask the judge to go on to the next case and come back to us later.”

“I don’t know.  I want him to stop.  He’s been hitting me for so long, but I can’t say it with him here in the courtroom.  I just can’t.  I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me. Please don’t make me.”

“Rose, I will never force you to do anything,” Theia assured her. “I can’t do anything about him being here in the courtroom, because he has a legal right to be present to hear and respond to the allegations you make against him.  But this is your life we’re talking about. If you testify against him and get an order of protection, the police will escort him out of the house and he will be ordered to stay away from you for a year.  We can come back during the last thirty days of that year and ask the judge to renew it for another year,” Theia urged, looking into Rose’s frightened eyes.  “I would tell the judge for you if I could, but the words have to come out of your mouth.”

“But what happens when the police leave the house? What good is a piece of paper going to do me then?”  Rose asked, her eyes pooling.

Theia blew out a breath.  She would not lie to her client and give her false hope.  The odds of being killed while trying to escape an abuser were almost ten times greater than being killed while staying with one. But in Rose’s case, it looked as though he was going to kill her even if she stayed with him.

“You’re right, Rose.  It is just a piece of paper.  But it means that when you call the police, they can arrest him.”  Theia tucked a loose tendril back into her bound hair.

“And if I’m dead by the time they get there?  In my neighborhood the cops don’t exactly hurry — trust me.  Look at him over there—he’s so angry.  I can’t do this.  I just can’t.  I’m sorry,” Rose clasped and unclasped the armrests on her chair.

“You can go into a women’s shelter.”

“For the rest of my life?”

“For a while, then maybe he will get on with his life and you can get back to yours.”

“You know that won’t happen—don’t bullshit me.  I’m not stupid.  He told me he’d hunt me down and kill me if I ever left him.  He’ll do it.”

“Tell you what, I’ll ask the judge to move on to the next case and come back to us in a little while,” Theia offered, and stood up to do so, tugging at her jacket again. 

Rose quickly stood next to Theia and blurted, “I’m ready to talk, Judge.  I want to take back this whole thing.”

Son of a bitch, Theia thought.  All this for nothing.  The case was over.  He beat the crap out of her, and he would win.

“Mrs. Catalino, are you saying you filed a false pleading with this court?” Judge Hamilton asked, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

“No!  I mean I just don’t want to do this.  Please,” she pleaded to the judge. “I just want to go home,” her voice trailed off to a quiet, childlike sound.

Rose sat down, crying.  Donald put his ball cap back on, hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans and grinned at the judge.

“Well, I guess that settles things, don’t it?”  Donald bragged, looking around the room and nodding at the onlookers.  He enjoyed an audience.

“This isn’t over until I say it’s over.  And take off the damn hat!”  Judge Hamilton barked, jabbing his finger at Donald.  “A blind man could see what’s really going on here.”

“She don’t wanna go through with it, Judge,” Donald drawled.

“You - sit down and shut up unless I ask you a question.”  The judge turned to Rose and spoke in a softer voice, “Ma’am, if you just tell me what happened I can help you.  Please tell me what happened on the … ” the judge scanned the paperwork,  “eleventh of July at about 11:30 at night.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Ma’am, would you like to talk to a social worker about your options for protective shelter?” the judge offered.

Rose leaned back and looked at Donald, who was slouched in his chair at the other table.  He was staring at her, nodding his head as if to a measured beat, and tapping his fist on the table.  Theia turned and glared at Donald, who winked at her.

“No,” Rose slumped in her chair and wrapped her arms around herself.  “I just want to go home.”

“Rose, please!”  Theia pleaded quietly, bending down to whisper in her ear. She knew it was not going to do any good, but she had to try one more time to convince Rose to testify.  Rose flinched when Theia put her hand on her shoulder. “The system isn’t perfect but it has to be better than what you will go home to.  Look at how angry he is.  At least go to a shelter for a few days.  I’m going to ask you one more time, will you please tell the judge what happened so he can help you? If you want some time to get yourself together, I can ask the judge to go on to the next case and we’ll talk some more.”

Rose stood, turned and ran out of the courtroom.

The gavel banged.  “Case dismissed.”

Donald threw his head back and laughed as he swaggered out of the courtroom, smacking his fist into his hand and wearing the damn cap.  He stopped at the back door and made an exaggerated show of holding the door open for a woman, after which he sailed out.

Theia felt angry, quickly followed feeling as though she was going to throw up.  She lightly pressed her hand against her stomach and made a mental note of the quickest route to the trashcan.

“Bailiff, call the next case,” Judge Hamilton barked.

“The last two cases settled and submitted signed memos, Judge,” the bailiff reported.

“Court is in recess.  Counsel, I want to see you in chambers,” Judge Hamilton said as he strode out of the courtroom. 

Theia picked up her papers, stuffed them back in her briefcase, and walked down the hallway toward Judge Hamilton’s chambers.  He had already flung off his robe and plunked into his oversized worn black leather chair he had brought with him from his law office when he became a judge.  Even though it was well worn, it looked several notches better than the dented gray metal file cabinets in his chambers – public issue, of course.  On the low salary he was paid, he refused to furnish his entire office at his own expense, but he would be damned if he was going to sit in one of those crappy broken-down chairs supplied.  At least it was cooler in his chambers.  His window unit sounded like a stock car at the starting line of a race.

Theia stood in the doorway, waiting for the judge to make eye contact and invite her into the room.  He looked up and waved to her to take a seat.

“You can’t let these things get to you, Ms. Pearson.  I saw how you looked when the case was over.  You let this stuff get to you, and you’ll burn out,” he advised in a fatherly tone, as he tore the paper on a roll of antacids and chomped two.  Theia scanned his face, which showed years of stress. His nose took multiple angles on its way down his face.  His thinning straight black hair showed more white hairs every year.

“How can I not care, Judge?  You and I both know he’s going to beat the crap out of her again, maybe not today or tomorrow, but it will happen,” Theia replied.  She felt her stomach churn again.

“Nothing you can do.  Hell, if you couldn’t convince her to testify, I don’t know who could.  And without her testimony, I can’t issue an order of protection.  The law is clear on that,” Judge Hamilton said, sounding tired, rubbing his eyes.

“I know, but I still feel sick about it when I think of what she will go through when he gets his hands on her.  I have seen this so many times, Judge,” Theia shook her head. “It never gets easier.  I don’t know how you do it, handling hundreds of adult abuse cases every month.  Thankfully, I only have the occasional case but every time I handle one the soul is sucked right out of me. People beat the crap out of each other and their kids, and expect the lawyers and judges to fix everything.  Then they wake up the next day and do it again.  How are we supposed to fix that? Maybe I’m just not cut out to practice family law. Divorce cases are bad enough, but these adult abuse cases—I just haven’t found a way to keep them from getting to me.”

“You will,” the judge replied dismissively. “Could you close the door on your way out?  The bailiff can walk you out to your car in case the husband is hanging around.”

“Thanks,” Theia said.  “I think I’ll take you up on that.  I used to think security escorts were for wimps until last year.”

“Yeah, I remember—it took four bailiffs to pull that guy off you.”

“I hope I never go through that again,” Theia replied as she left his chambers.

Theia went back to the courtroom to get the bailiff. She glanced around the room and even called out his name, but did not find him.  She would have to rely on herself this time. 

Theia looked around all for any place where Donald could be crouched waiting for her.  She walked through the courtroom and pushed the solid wood doors that opened to the hallway.

A few people were scattered about the hallway, but none of them were Donald.  A mom stared blankly while her toddlers played on the filthy floor, a homeless person slept on a hallway bench and a couple lawyers were talking to clients. 

Theia needed to make sure Donald was not lying in wait for her in another courtroom or a side hallway. She walked past each hallway as quietly as she could in heels on the hard tile floor, scanning as she did.  She stayed as far as possible from the side hallways.

Everything she had learned years before came back to her, like muscle memory.  After being attacked so many times by Foster, Theia had learned how to avoid an attacker.  She didn’t even have to think about it.  Her body went into motion, as though of its own volition.  The experience was eerie, almost as if she was watching herself going through these steps.  Adrenaline rushed through her body, along with increased blood flow to her arms and legs in case she needed to fight or take flight.  While Theia welcomed this ancient biological response to stress, as evidence that she was ready for whatever might happen, she did not welcome the churning in her stomach.

Having seen no one in the side hallways, she grasped the door pull to a courtroom at the far end of the hall.  Her hand slipped off.  Smearing her sweaty palms on her suit, she grabbed the door pull again and entered the courtroom, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone had come out of one of the side hallways.  Theia waited for several minutes, then came back out into the hallway and pushed a button for an elevator.

Waiting for an elevator to arrive, Theia thought about the botched hearing.  She didn’t see the point of going the extra mile in these cases when it was completely ineffective.  What had she accomplished today?  Nothing but putting her client in more danger of abuse.  What was the point?  She wasn’t making any difference in Rose’s life, at least not for the better. Because of what she had already endured in her own life, Theia wanted to help women get away from violent men, but also because of what she had gone through she felt she had already been through enough.  Why continue to put herself out there, trying to help people who can’t be helped?  It was emotionally exhausting and discouraging.  She didn’t think her nerves could handle doing this type of work for another thirty or forty years.  For that matter, how did Rose get through one day after another, trapped with a man like Donald?  It did not seem fair, that the people who needed help the most were often too emotionally damaged to get help from the courts.  The very thing they needed to escape kept them bound.

Something struck Theia on the back of the leg.  She shrieked and whirled around, feeling like a fool when she realized it was one of the toddlers trying to get her attention.