The Lavender Hour (33 page)

“He was in so much pain. Even with the morphine drip.” I turned again to the jury. I needed them to see Luke as he was in the end, not as the man sitting looking out at backyard bird feeder and laughing at Jim's jokes. “He had begun to lose control of his bowels. He didn't want his daughter to see him like that, to have to clean him up, to remember him like that. He said he didn't want to die like that, bit by bit.”

Gage's next question wasn't something we had covered during the preparations for my testimony, and it took me by surprise. “Jessie, please tell the jury why you became a hospice volunteer.”

“I guess I wanted to help,” I said. I looked over at Lily. “My mama always told us how important it was to help others.”

“But why hospice, Jessie?”

“I…”

“Take your time,” Gage said.

I paused, swallowed. I felt stripped bare. “It was something I heard,” I said.

“Go on.”

“At this lecture I went to with Faye.”

“That would be Faye Wilson?”

“Yes. During the lecture, the doctor said that we learn how to live from the dying. I guess I wanted to learn the lessons the dying can teach.”

Gage stood closer to the jury, looked at them, then at me. “So you became a volunteer because you wanted to help and because you thought the dying have something to teach the rest of us?”

“Yes.”

“And did you learn anything from Luke?”

I smiled. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“What did you learn from Luke?”

“I learned that dying, you know, slow like that, requires a lot of courage. Luke taught me that. He said most people go through life
not realizing what they have.” A deep sigh of loss escaped my lips. I swallowed, concentrated on staying in control. My throat ached with tears held back.

“Anything else?” Gage said.

“He showed me how to appreciate the little things.”

“Like what?”

“Everything, really. The birds. Their song. He was teaching me how to recognize the individual birds by their calls.” I stopped, unable to go on.

Again Gage surprised me. “Jessie, are your parents alive?”

I looked over at Lily. “My mama is.”

“In fact, she's right here in the courtroom, is she not?”

“Yes, she is.” I pointed to Lily. The jurors turned and looked. Lily held her head proud, smiled at me.

“And your father?” Gage asked.

“No,” I whispered. “He's dead.”

“In fact, your father died when you were fourteen. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I said. Where was he going with this?

“How did he die, Jessie?”

“A heart attack.”

Nelson leaned forward, as if to object, then settled back.

“Was he alone when he died?”

I raised my hand to my throat. “No,” I whispered.

“In fact, you were with him when he died, weren't you?”

Daddy. Daddy, what's wrong? “Yes.”

“Please tell the jury what happened.”

I couldn't do this. Couldn't.

“Jessie?”

“I—could I have some water?”

An officer brought me a glass.

“Miss Long,” Judge Savage said, “do you need to take a break?”

I shook my head. I wanted only for this to end. “He was driving,” I began. “He was driving me to soccer practice.” One of Daddy's
Sinatra tapes was playing, and he was singing along. We caught the red light. Shit, I said. I was already late. The coach would be mad. Then he made that odd coughing sound; he slumped over the wheel. Daddy. Daddy, what's wrong?

The tears I'd managed to hold back flowed down my cheeks. I'd vowed I would not do that, would not break down on the stand. Why was Gage doing this?

“Jessie,” he said, “knowing what it feels like to lose a parent, could you ever, for whatever good reason, take the life of someone else's father?”

I looked over at Paige. “No,” I said. “No. I couldn't.”

He nodded, handed me a tissue, stroked my hand. “Your witness,” he said to Nelson.

Nelson took his time rising from his seat.

“Miss Long, you have testified that you make jewelry. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Please tell the jury what kind of jewelry you make.”

“Necklaces. Rings. Pins.”

“Silver jewelry? Gold?”

“No.”

“What material do you use?”

“Hair,” I said.

He leaned forward. “Would you repeat that so that the members of the jury can hear your answer?”

“Hair.”

“Human hair?”

“Yes.”

A sound—no more than a whisper—came from the jury box. I understood how easy it was to take a single fact and present it so it shadowed a person. I wanted to explain about my jewelry, but Nelson didn't give me time.

“Is that why you took Luke Ryder's hair? To make jewelry?”

I could have lied then, said I had taken it to make a keepsake for
Nona or Paige—perhaps I should have lied, but my mama's eyes were on me. “No. I took it to have something of Luke's.”

“Just like you took his shirt and his painting?”

“He gave me the painting,” I said.

“Did anyone see him give you the painting?”

“No.”

“Did you tell anyone he gave you the painting?”

“No.”

“When did this occur?”

“The last day,” I said. “The day he died.”

“Let's talk about that day,” Nelson said. “Luke Ryder's final day.”

I looked out over the courtroom, found Lily, searched for Faye. I felt Nona's eyes on me.

“You were alone with Luke that afternoon, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And where was his mother?”

“Upstairs. She went up to her room to take a nap.”

“And you would have this jury believe that while his mother was upstairs, asleep, Luke told you he intended to take an overdose?”

“Yes.”

“Was that the first time he had mentioned this to you?”

“No. He'd brought it up before.”

“And did you mention this to anyone?”

“No.”

“And that final day, when you say he again brought up the subject, what did you do?”

I looked down, bit my lip. “I left him,” I whispered.

“I'm sorry. I can't hear you.”

“I left him.”

“Left him alone after he told you he wanted to take an overdose, without saying a word to his mother?”

I forced myself to look at Nona. “Yes.”

“Did you believe that Luke Ryder was serious?”

“Yes.”

“Were you concerned?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“And out of this concern, did you make one phone call, tell one person what you say Luke Ryder told you he intended?”

“No.”

“Not one? Not to his daughter?”

“No.”

“Not to his doctor?”

“No.”

“Or the hospice nurse?”

“No.”

“Not to Faye Wilson?”

“No.”

“So you kept this crucial information secret?”

Gage stood. “Your Honor—”

“Move along, Mr. Nelson,” Judge Savage said. “Miss Long has answered the question.”

“That is not the only information you kept secret, is it?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Miss Long, you yourself have been treated for cancer, isn't that true?”

I looked immediately over to where Faye sat, saw the surprise on her face.

“Yes,” I said. “Five years ago. I don't have it now.”

“What kind of cancer did you have?”

“It's called schwannoma.”

“Schwannoma,” Nelson said. “And that is a tumor on the brain, is it not?”

How had he discovered all this? “Yes.”

“Your Honor,” Gage said, “I don't see the relevance of this line of questioning.”

“Goes to opportunity, Your Honor,” Nelson said.

“Overruled.”

“Miss Long, during the period prior to treatment and in the five years following, did you ever have a prescription for Seconal?” I looked over at Gage. “Yes.” “I have nothing further for this witness,” Nelson said.

“Y
OU DID
great,” Lily told me later.

Mother boilerplate, I thought. What else could she say?

I
N THE MORNING,
Judge Savage called for closing arguments. She reminded the jury that these arguments were not evidence in the case.

Gage, dressed in a new suit, spoke first. He clasped my shoulder as he rose and approached the jurors. He started out softly. He thanked the judge and turned to the jury, all but bowing.

“I do not envy you your task,” he said. “You have the hardest job there is, the heaviest burden. You must decide what the truth is.

“Now if, in the following minutes, Mr. Nelson or I say something to you that doesn't comport with your memory of the evidence, please disregard it. Your memory is what controls the proceedings once you enter deliberations.

“Later, after I and Mr. Nelson have talked to you a little while, Judge Savage is going to instruct you about presumption of innocence and the burden of proof and reasonable doubt. She will do a far better job than I can, and I am not going to waste your time now. But I want to talk a bit about reasonable doubt. Reasonable doubt is just that. It means a reasonable person can listen to the testimonies, review the evidence, and find cause to doubt the guilt of the defendant. The doubt does not have to be absolute. Only reasonable.

“I just mentioned evidence, and I want to talk to you about that. You must decide the case not on conjecture or emotion—although there has been plenty of both—but on evidence. Hard evidence. Evidence that convinces you without reasonable doubt that Jessie Long is solely responsible for Luke Ryder's death.

“Now, as you have heard, Mr. Ryder was dying. His passing was inevitable. No one disputes that fact. You have heard testimony that he was in pain. He was losing dignity. He confided to Jessie Long that he no longer wanted to be a burden to his family. That he didn't want his daughter to have to clean his body, change his soiled sheets. We can understand this. Who among us would wish that on our child?” He paused, let the jury think about that.

“Let's review what Mr. Nelson has presented as the facts of the commonwealth's case.

“You have heard testimony that Jessie's fingerprints were on a vial of medication. Her fingerprints and those belonging to half a dozen other people. Jessie could have lied to you, could have told you that she moved the bottle while performing a routine household chore. Instead, she chose to tell you the truth, that when she was alone and when Luke Ryder was in great pain and in need of relief, she did what I think any compassionate person would do. She gave him his medication. Why didn't Jessie lie to you? Because she tells the truth. Just as she has told you the truth when she testified that she did not give Luke Ryder an overdose.

“Let's talk about motive, a subject about which Mr. Nelson has remained silent.

“You heard my client say how attached she had grown to Luke and his family. Why would she give him an overdose? What possible motive could she have had?

“Earlier, you heard Paige Ryder testify that she believes that Jessie is responsible for her father's death. I sympathize with Paige, as I am sure most of you do. She has lost her father. Jessie Long sympathizes with this girl. As you heard during Jessie's testimony, her own father died when she was fourteen. She has only compassion and sympathy for Paige. She understands that, in her anger and grief, Paige wants to find someone to blame. But that person should not be my client.

“Luke Ryder was trying to spare his family further pain. That was his single objective. He knew he was dying. Why didn't he tell
his mother or daughter of his plans? Again, he wanted to save them from pain. Just as Jessie wanted to save them from pain when she didn't tell them what Luke confided in her.

“Luke Ryder did not know there would be an investigation. He had no reason to believe there would be an autopsy or a toxicology screen. He intended to slip away, having seen to the care of his dog. He intended to take control of his own death. Jessie Long had absolutely nothing to do with his death. She is an innocent and unintended victim of Luke's final decision. Jessie Long is innocent.”

N
ELSON LOOKED
rested, confident, as he stood to present his closing argument.

“Thank you, Your Honor. Madam Clerk, Counsel, good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I want to take this opportunity to thank you for the attention that you've paid to this case and to the testimony and evidence presented over the past few days.

“I know you don't remember word for word the testimonies you have heard, and no one expects you to. What we do expect you to do, what you are charged to do, is to render your decision based not on passion, prejudice, or personal beliefs but on the facts.

“Mr. Fisk has asked that you look at the facts. Here are the facts.

“Luke Ryder was dying. As defense counsel pointed out, there is no argument about that. But even in his last days, surrounded by his beloved family and his dog, he still found enjoyment in life. You have heard from several witnesses that Luke found meaning in life's simple pleasures, just as you or I might. Baseball games, a good joke, the birds that flocked to the feeders in his yard.

“I want you to picture for a moment the daily life of Luke Ryder, a healthy fisherman in the prime of his life who suddenly learned he was dying of cancer. Into his family, hit with the worst tragedy a family can withstand, came the defendant. At this vulnerable time in their lives, they opened their home and their hearts to her. They trusted her.

“How did she repay that trust?

“She stole from the dying man. Took his shirt. A painting. She took a piece of his hair. And ultimately she took his life.

“Now, the defense will have you believe that Luke Ryder died by his own hand, with an overdose he himself took. But did he ever mention this intention to his beloved daughter or mother or his friend of twenty-three years? Did he mention it to any of the people charged with his care? No. The fact is that he didn't say one word of this to the people closest to him. Are we to believe he told it to a woman he had known only weeks? A woman who has lied? Because, despite what opposing counsel will have you believe, Jessie Long lies. This fact is not in dispute. You heard Lieutenant Moody testify that Jessie Long told him on the day after Luke Ryder died that Luke never once mentioned suicide. When Lieutenant Moody interviewed her weeks later, he again asked her that question, and again Jessie Long told him that Luke had never mentioned the possibility of taking his own life. Yet on the stand, with her own future at stake, the defendant now tells us that Luke did tell her he intended to take his own life. So the question, ladies and gentlemen, is not if the defendant is a liar. She has given two conflicting statements, only one of which can be true. The other has to be a lie. The question for you is, which story do you believe? The one she told to the investigating officer shortly after Luke's death or the one she told here in this courtroom when she was on trial?