Reasonable Doubt 3 (15 page)

“He was fucking my wife.”

The jurors gasped and the judge banged his gavel.

“
Mr. Hamilton
…” The judge spoke sternly. “That type of language is not allowed in my courtroom. Please answer the question.”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I did injure Mr. Hart…
Severely
.”

“Similarly to how you injured your own wife?”

“
Objection
!” The prosecutor stood up. “Relevance, Your Honor?”

“Sustained.”

“Fine.” The defense lawyer held up his hands in surrender. “Is it true that you blame Mr. Hart for the downfall of your former firm?”

“Clearly the Department of Justice does since he’s the one on trial today.”

“
Mr. Hamilton
…”

“Yes.” I clenched my jaw. “Yes, I blame him for the demise of our former firm.”

“Is it true that you also blame him for the unfortunate death of your daughter?”

“
Your Honor
!” The prosecutor shot me a look of sympathy. “Relevance?”

“Overruled…Answer the question, Mr. Hamilton.”

I looked away from Kevin and balled my fists. “Yes.”

“Your daughter died amidst the weeks leading up to the complete collapse of your firm, and within those weeks you managed to severely beat your partner, batter your wife—”

“I didn’t batter my fucking wife. She made that shit up. Have you done any fucking research?”

The judge banged his gavel, but I continued talking.

“I’m not sure what low level community college was dumb enough to issue you a law degree, but the case between me and my wife was thrown out years ago because she lied about numerous things to a grand jury. And seeing as though she was sent to prison and I was cleared of all charges, you can accept that as a fucking fact. So, before you ask me another bullshit question and try to damage my character, remember that
your
client’s livelihood is at stake during this trial. Not mine.”

The judge let out a deep sigh, but he didn’t say anything further. He just motioned for the defense to continue.

“During your partnership, is it true that your wife was in charge of all the firm’s monetary dealings?”

“Ex-wife. And yes.”

“And you never thought to double check where she was allocating most of the funds?”

“I had a degree in law, not accounting.”

“So, you never thought it was slightly suspicious that your new firm was bringing in seven figures monthly?”

“No.” I sighed, thinking back to those days, those clients. Everyone we dealt with had far more than I would earn in my lifetime and I thought nothing about the monthly profits Ava reported; I trusted her.

“Is it fair to say that the demise of your firm could be due to your wife’s handling of funding?”

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“Interesting.” He picked up a sheet of paper and asked the judge if he could approach me. “Could you read this to the court please?”

“I’d rather not,” I said.

“You’d rather not?” He laughed. “Mr. Hamilton, as a lawyer yourself, surely you know that you will be held in contempt for refusing to read requested evidence.”

“Read it, Mr. Hamilton.” The judge demanded.

“You’re a fucking liar, Ava.” I read my old words. “You’ve fucked so many people behind my back that I’ve lost count. As far as I’m concerned, you deserve to rot behind bars. Maybe then your overworked pussy will get a much needed break.”

A juror covered her mouth in shock, but I continued reading.

“Thank you for telling me that my cock was never up to par, that after all those years of marriage you were never satisfied…Since you and Kevin have not only managed to take away my firm, but have also ruined the one thing that made my life worth living, accept this letter as a goodbye.” I looked up at the defense.

“Could you also read what you wrote after the PS?”

I rolled my eyes. “Since you’ll only be around women for the next fifteen years, I suggest you give pussy a try. The taste is quite impeccable.”

“Objection, your honor.” The prosecutor stood up. “I don’t see how this document is relevant to the case. The defense also failed to produce that letter during discovery. I move to strike.”

“Sustained. Consider it stricken.” The judge looked at his watch and then stood up. “Let’s adjourn for lunch. Testimony will continue this afternoon.”

As the jury and the courtroom attendees filed out, I sat still. I had nowhere to go.

“I didn’t know he was going to bring up your daughter. I’m so sorry…” The prosecutor offered me a small smile. “I’ll redirect once he gets done…Your partner is definitely going down, he’s just trying to discredit your character a bit, to make him look a little more sympathetic to the jury.”

“You are aware that I’m a lawyer as well, right?” I stepped off the stand. “I know exactly what he’s trying to do.”

I stepped out of the court and outside into a heavy snowfall, looking up at the sky. I considered leaving the courthouse and risking contempt, but a part of me wanted to help seal the deal on Kevin’s fate.

It’d been a long time coming—all the lies, the betrayal, the pain, and he deserved whatever he was going to get.

Someone tapped my shoulder from behind.

“You got a minute?” A familiar voice asked. Kevin.

“I don’t.”

“I figured…” He sighed. “Whatever happens at the end of this trial—”

“Did you not hear what I said?” I spun around to face him, taken aback by how haggard he looked up close. Time hadn’t been good to him at all.

“I’m sorry for everything me and Ava put you through,” he said with a genuine look in his eyes. “The money and clients were coming in so fast and we were all so young…”

“Young?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Young and dumb, you know? It was—”

“Dumb as fuck.” I clenched my jaw. “But it was more than stupidity, Kevin. It was greed. And when the newspapers started to put the pieces together, when the clients started demanding answers, you both turned on me. You blamed me…You filed for custody of Emma, knowing damn well you didn’t really want her. You just wanted to hurt me since you were her biological father.”

“Liam…”

“And you did.” I could honestly admit that once and for all. “You really fucking did…”

“If I could take it back—”

“You can’t.” I cut him off. “But you can tell me one thing…”

“What is it?”

“The night you ruined my life…Well, not the first night, the night that came months later, were you drinking?”

“What does it matter now?”

“Were you fucking drinking that night?” I glared at him and he sighed, looking down at the ground.

“Yes…”

“Thank you for finally being honest.” I scoffed. “I’ll sleep even easier at night knowing that you’ll be joining Ava behind bars after this week.”

“Ava’s back in prison?” He looked hurt, disappointed.

“Nine more years.” I smiled, but it quickly faded. “Six more than what Emma got.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond. My heart was clenching at the thought of losing Emma again, at imagining all the pain she must’ve felt on her last day, so I shut my eyes—trying to block another dark memory from passing by.

Not being sure of a criminal defendant's guilt to a moral certainty.

Six years ago…

Liam Henderson

Living in New York never felt ordinary. Every day there was something new to discover, something I’d never seen before.

Even though I was still running on the fumes of winning one of the biggest, yet non-reported cases in the state, I was still trying to find myself—personally and professionally. I was realizing that national popularity would always elude me, but as long as I was under-rated and not over-rated, I was perfectly fine with that.

I dropped a book of essays on my coffee table once I heard a loud knock at the door. It was a familiar loud and annoying one that my best friend Kevin always used.

“You know, you can’t keep coming over in the middle of the—” I stopped talking when I realized it wasn’t Kevin. It was a woman and a man, dressed in grey suits.

“Are you Liam Andrew Henderson?” The woman asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“Are you Liam Andrew Henderson?” The man spoke sternly.

“Depends on who wants to know.”

They both blinked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m Liam Henderson.”

“You’ve been served.” The woman thrust a thick blue envelope into my hand, the tenth time this had happened to me this week.

“Is this some type of joke? Is the
New York Times
trying to get a rise out of me again?”

They exchanged glances, confused.

“I was just doing my job,” I said. “If they want to continue their pettiness by refusing to print my picture for the rest of their paper’s life, that’s fine. I’m okay with that, really. But serving me papers as a prank every day for a week and a half—”

“The SEC doesn’t do pranks,” the woman said, before they both walked away.

I shut my door and immediately called Kevin.

“This better be an emergency,” he answered. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Has our firm pissed anyone off lately?”

“Of course we have. Why?”

“I just got served papers by the SEC, again.”

“Have you actually opened any of the other ones?” he asked.

“Two of them,” I walked over to my coffee table and pulled out a drawer. “Something about a client named Ferguson who claims we haven’t been putting his money in escrow? He’s suing us for five million and supposedly contacting our other clients. Do we even have a client named Ferguson?”

“We have three clients named Ferguson.”

“Have we pissed any of them off?”

“Not to my knowledge.” He sounded concerned. “I’m pretty sure they would’ve contacted us first before filing the charges, don’t you think? Are you sure it’s not
The New York Times
playing a mean joke on you? This is like the tenth letter you’ve received.”

“That’s the first thing I asked tonight. They said it’s not them.”

We were both silent for several seconds.

“It’s them.” We laughed in unison.

“Sorry for calling at this hour.” I stuffed the envelope into the drawer with all the others. “I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up.

“Daddy?” Emma walked into the living room, wiping her eyes as she walked over to me. “Can I go play?”

“It’s three in the morning, Emma.” I shook my head. “What do you think?”

“I want to go play…” She smiled, giving me that look that made me incapable of saying no.

I smiled back and kissed her forehead, thinking of where we could possibly go out at this hour. Central Park was out of the question, as was any park, really. There was a twenty four hour donut shop nearby that we could walk to or—

I stopped mid thought. Kevin was having a special playroom built for her at the office, a room that was twice the size of his own. He’d said it would prevent me from using “I have to go check on Emma” as an excuse when we worked on demanding cases.

“I know somewhere we can go.” I picked her up and carried her to her room, helping her into her favorite shoes—a pair of red rain boots she wore every day, even when it wasn’t raining. “Okay, go sit on the couch so I can get dressed and then we’ll go okay?”

She rushed out of her room without saying another word. I really needed to find a way to curb her wake-up-at-three-in-the-morning routine ASAP, but a part of me liked it. It was our special time together.

I put on a sweatshirt and sent my wife a quick email.

“I’m ready! I’m ready!” Emma rushed into my room, knocking over a stack of folders. “I’m ready!”

Laughing, I put my phone in my pocket and attempted to stuff the papers back in order—stopping once I saw my signature. Forged.

Confused, I sifted through the other papers-noticing the same thing.

What is this?

“Let’s go, Daddy!” Emma tugged on my pants.

I tucked the folder underneath my arm and clasped her hand. “Your nap today is going to have to last for at least five hours. Do you know that?”

“I don’t like naps.”

“Of course you don’t…” I walked her out of our apartment and to my car. As usual, Ava had slipped a note underneath the windshield wipers.

Dear Husband,

I love you—so very much, and it pains me to see you, someone with as much money and status as you have, driving a car like this. I know you’re modest, and the most expensive suit you own probably costs eighty dollars, but come on! You have to live, Liam!

I’m taking you car shopping next week and I’m not taking no for an answer,

Ava.

PS—Thank you for the roses you sent me yesterday. I got you something special and placed it on your desk at the office.

I smiled and secured Emma into her car seat, giving in when she requested to listen to her favorite song on repeat while riding to the firm.

The sleek design of the building still took people’s breath away when they saw it for the first time. It was the one thing I spared no expense on when constructing; I made sure the translucent gold panels were state of the art, that the law scale statues were properly erected on marble ledges, and that the stone letters above the entrance—“Henderson & Hart” were polished every week.

And, as a giant “fuck you” to the government for burying my first case, the case that should’ve made me a household name and landed me on billboards all over this country, I had the office built right in front of their Social Security Office.

Pulling into the reserved parking spot, I looked in my rearview mirror—seeing that Emma was fast asleep.