Devil's Hand, page 20
Jessica shook her head to clear out the static. “Sorry, just got a thousand thoughts ringing in my head.”
“Your client still in there?”
Jessica looked behind her. “I thought she was following me.” Jessica thought no such thing but wasn’t going to admit she’d stormed out of the room and left her client behind.
“I’ll get her.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
When Jessica returned to the courtroom, she surveyed the gallery. Chris sat at the Defendant’s table, looking smug. Ray sat next to him, milquetoast and, but for his role in the proceedings, nearly invisible. He was the sort of man easily skipped over in a sweep of a crowd. No wonder he wanted such control over Susan. He likely had to kowtow to everyone else in his life, so he probably wanted to exercise dominion where he could, which was in his home. Jessica had about a minute to figure out how to dramatize that. Probably best to save that theory as an argument for closing, so Chris couldn’t put up evidence against it.
Her eye skipped over to the observers in the pews. Bobby sat next to her father, and they leaned into each other, whispering. Michael caught her watching them and waved like a seven-year-old at a dance recital. His display was embarrassing, but it gave her a boost of confidence. And at least he was paying attention to her now. Bobby, knowing better, just raised the left side of his mouth when she caught his eye. Jessica reflexively fingered her claddagh ring. Taking in a deep breath, she told herself that no matter what happened today, she’d still get to go home to Bobby and her father. Her happiness wasn’t dependent on the outcome of this hearing. Unless, of course, Bobby wrote something in the paper about this fiasco that made Jessica’s life more difficult, in which case she’d simply have a nervous breakdown.
Susan stood awkwardly near the Plaintiff’s table, elbows bent as she clutched her purse in front of her stomach. Jessica fought the urge to yell, “Good Lord, woman! No one is going to steal that thing in here!”
Judge Miles said, “Ms. Fischer, are you ready to restart the hearing?”
“Yes, sir, we’d like to recall Mrs. Wolan to the stand for redirect.” Jessica gestured to the witness stand, and Susan took her place.
“Mrs. Wolan, when you said Ray Wolan is responsible for your bruises even though it was Jackson’s hand that made the mark, what did you mean?”
Susan stared at Jessica, saying nothing.
“Let me ask this a different way. How would you describe the influence your husband has over your son?”
“Objection! Assumes facts not in evidence. There’s been no testimony about Ray Wolan having influence over Jackson Wolan.”
Before Judge Miles could rule, Jessica said, “I’ll rephrase. Mrs. Wolan …” She walked from behind her table to get closer to Susan, primarily to give herself time to think. “I wrote down here that you earlier said, ‘I just know that I can see the evil being cast from Ray to Jackson, and then Jackson will grab me.’ Do you remember saying that?”
Susan nodded.
“You have to answer out loud.”
“Yes.”
“When Jackson grabs you, what does Ray do?”
Susan squinted at her. “What do you mean?”
“In the story you told us, Jackson grabbed you by your arm. What was Ray doing while Jackson held you?”
Susan’s eyes darted around, and her lips formed soundless words. “He was quoting scripture. The part about how the man is the head of the household.”
“Was he asking Jackson to let go?”
“Objection! Leading.”
Jessica gave a grunt of frustration. “In what way did he address Jackson’s behavior?”
“I … I … he didn’t.”
“He didn’t take any issue with his teenage son grabbing his mother so hard he left bruises?”
“Leading! Your Honor, please instruct Ms. Fischer not to lead her witness.”
Jessica wished she could zap Chris with a laser beam sent directly from her eyes. Before she could respond to his objection, Susan said, “I told you. He did it because Ray and his demons demanded it.”
The question, having been answered, rang a bell that could not be unrung, so Jessica simply said, “I’ll withdraw the question.”
“What would have happened if Jackson hadn’t done what Ray wanted?”
“Objection!” Chris rose to his feet so quickly that he nearly toppled his chair. “Mrs. Wolan couldn’t possibly know that. It calls for conjecture.”
Oh, for crying out loud. How was she going to make lemonade out of these lemons if Chris kept stealing the sugar? Could he not do her the professional courtesy of cutting her one millimeter of slack? “I’ll rephrase. You’ve talked a lot about demons. What is your understanding of what a demon is?”
Susan, whose posture was always rigid, stiffened her spine so much it looked like she was wearing a back brace. If Jessica had heard Susan’s voice over the phone, she would have assumed it was computer-generated. “Demons are fallen angels. They’ve rejected heaven and the goodness that is Jesus. They travel between hell and the earthly plane to cause chaos. They can’t control us, not directly, but they manipulate us. They lead us toward sin, anger, and hate. They cloud our minds and cause us to sin.”
Jessica stole a look at Judge Miles. She couldn’t tell if he was scowling or in deep concentration. Maybe both. She wished she could figure out a way to look at Chris and Ray without completely turning around, but that would require doing a complex yoga pose, which would be tough in her tailored jacket.
“And you believe Ray has a demon? What does that mean?” Jessica knew she was violating the first rule of questioning witnesses in court: never ask a question you don’t know the answer to. She knew all this supernatural talk made Susan appear to be a bit off, but maybe not so off in a religious community like this one. Better an off-kilter religious belief than flat-out lying.
“It means that Ray,” Susan swiveled her head to look directly at her husband for the first time that day, “has been manipulated by a demon into letting the demon reside inside his spirit. The demon controls Ray, but Ray can also control the demon. Rather, the demon convinces Ray of Satan’s wishes, and Ray can tell the demon what to do. If Ray’s commands fit with Satan’s agenda, the demon is a willing participant.”
Jessica had no idea what her next question should be. She’d now made her client look like a nutjob. But the rigid posture seemed to have melted off Susan, gone with the torrent of words. Having been able to tell the truth—what she viewed as truth—she seemed more relaxed. However unbelievable to Jessica, Susan seemed completely sincere, which had to play well with the judge. She didn’t dare look over at Chris. No doubt he was sneering at the thought of Ray having the power to manipulate ethereal beings. “And how, exactly, does Ray cast his demon into Jackson?” She felt ridiculous asking this question, but she needed to keep her beliefs out of it, and from a narrative perspective, it was the logical follow-up.
“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never let a demon into my soul before. But you can see it happen. You can see the ugly on Ray’s face, watch him face Jackson head on with it, and watch Jackson absorb it all. Jackson is a sweet boy, always has been. He wouldn’t harm a fly without that kind of influence. I told the truth before. I never said it was Ray’s hand, I said it was Ray’s doing, and I stand by that.”
That seemed as good a way to finish up as any. Jessica took deep breaths and tried not to let her rage take over. How many times had she asked Susan questions that should have brought this information out? All the times she’d had to tie a metaphorical rope around Susan’s words to drag them out of her chest. And now here the woman was, choosing this moment to confess. But Susan had now explained her misleading testimony, and at the moment that was all Jessica could deal with. “That’s all I have,” she said and turned to go back to her chair.
Jessica stole a glance at Chris. The smug look was gone, but Chris’s default look was cocky, so the difference was slight. Chris still had plenty to work with; as in, if you lied at first about that, who’s to say you aren’t lying about something else? But, realistic or not, Susan had clearly been telling her version of the truth. The roller coaster ride that had been Susan’s credibility was once again on the upclimb.
Chris didn’t score too many points cross-examining Susan, and, thankfully, he didn’t try. That was the one good thing about him: he was a good lawyer. For all his irritating qualities, he knew how to try a case.
Susan had owned up to the story, and Chris had no new bombs to drop. The best he could do was highlight the fact that Susan changed her story. He’d be foolish to bully Susan on the stand. She looked weak and beaten already, and going after her now would only make her look like the victim she was.
Chris’s questioning of Ray Wolan held no more surprises. Ray did come across as weak as Coach and everyone else said he would. Of that night at the dinner table, he insisted he thought Jackson was holding his mother for support, not injuring her. He said he managed the bank accounts because Susan didn’t know how and that it hadn’t been a problem until she leveled these accusations against him.
Jessica looked at the wall clock. The hearing seemed to be dragging on for hours, but it was only just before twelve. Finally—finally!—they were getting to closing arguments. Judge Miles was visibly tired and not in the mood to give them time to prepare. This was just a temporary, anyway.
As the Plaintiff, Jessica had the right to open and close. She waived her right to open, saving the last word for herself. That was standard practice. Within seconds, Chris was on his feet, shuffling his notes.
“Your Honor, what we have here is one of those situations that happens unfortunately often. Mrs. Wolan is unhappy in her marriage, she doesn’t have the parenting skills to discipline her son, and she wants out. Without the courage to stand up to her husband, she’s left to create this whole domestic violence scenario where she pins the blame on Ray Wolan. It’s a quick and easy solution. It gets him out of the house, it gets her enough money to pay her bills without the necessity of her having to get a job, and it plays on the sympathy of the court. If she were actually scared of my client, she would have gotten a TPO. But she didn’t. Why? We’d put to the court it’s because she was afraid of having to swear under oath that Ray had ever hurt her.”
Jessica dug her fingernails into her palms, the slight pain distracting her just enough to prevent her from yelling, “Because you know as good as I do that the motherfucker on the bench there would never have signed a TPO against a councilman!”
Chris walked slowly and calmly behind his client’s chair. “Ray Wolan, as you can see from the dozens of affidavits we’ve provided the court, has a reputation in this community of being a solid citizen. He’s a bridge builder. He’s attended hundreds of county commission and committee meetings, and no one has ever heard him raise his voice or get angry. He’s a peacemaker. He’s steady and reliable. He sat here and listened to false accusations against him without flinching, knowing that the truth would surface, and when it did, he didn’t gloat.” Chris patted Ray’s shoulders and then moved to the side of his table. With his left hand, Chris spread his fingers wide and gestured toward his client. “Voluntarily. Without a court order. Just to keep the peace, he left his wife and children when he was asked. He spent thousands of his own hard-earned dollars paying for their upkeep without a court order because it was the right thing to do. And what is his reward?” Chris lowered his left arm and then almost violently lifted his right arm and pointed directly at Susan. “This woman,” he spat the word like an obscenity, “tells lies about him under oath, lies of omission or misdirection, maybe, but lies nonetheless, that led the court to believe he is a violent man. She uses these lies to ask for more of his money and to keep him from his children. And when she’s caught in her lies?” Chris used that pointing finger to emphasize what he was saying. “She pretends the whole thing was a simple misunderstanding, presumably to protect her son.”
Chris walked back to Ray and rested a hand on Ray’s shoulder. Jessica thought how complimentary her college drama teacher would have been of Chris’s staging. “What we’re asking today, Your Honor, is that you not reward her behavior. If there must be a temporary order, it should preserve the status quo. Mr. Wolan is willing to pay the mortgage and utility bills and pay for food and medical bills for the children just as he has. If you add up those expenses, they more than double the presumptive child support amount according to the worksheet. Mrs. Wolan is going to have to get a job. We understand she doesn’t have much of a work history, but neither do most teenagers when they apply for jobs, and they manage to get employed.”
Jessica heard a squeak beside her. If she weren’t in a courtroom she would have thought it was a hungry kitten, mewling for milk. It was Susan, taking issue with being employed.
“We don’t know how much more Mrs. Wolan thinks she can bleed from Mr. Wolan. He’s not a wealthy man. He’s chosen a career dedicated to community service, not commerce. He has to provide housing for himself and feed himself, and it’s stretching his limits to do that for two entire households.” Chris turned toward Jessica. If the expression on his face had a sound, it would have been, “so there.” He then turned toward Judge Miles with an ingratiating smile, said, “Thank you,” and sat down.
Jessica stood up slowly. She wanted to convey that she was unworried and unhurried, a formidable task, given the double pace of her heartbeat. “Yes, Your Honor, let’s look at these two individuals. You have County Commissioner Wolan, who’s able to get dozens of affidavits in support of himself because, well, is it because he’s such a great guy? Or because he’s in a position of authority and no one dares say no to him? We’ll never know, will we? And then you have Susan Wolan, who doesn’t have any such affidavits. Is it because she’s a terrible person who no one will support, or is it because, as is typical of abused, controlled women, she’s barely allowed out of the house on her own, to develop her own friends, or to have a life that isn’t orchestrated by her husband?” Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica could see Susan’s head droop like a dehydrated flower. “Is she trying to protect her son? Of course she is. What good mother wouldn’t? She needs to get her son away from the influence of the toxic attitudes of his father, which tell him that violence and control against women are not just tolerated but biblically sanctioned.”
Jessica walked over to Susan. “Susan Wolan isn’t asking for more, she’s asking for different. She doesn’t want to have to go to the man who controlled her every move and ask him to pay every bill. Isn’t it just so generous that he will give some of his money to her voluntarily—he doesn’t even consider that this marital asset is their money. She doesn’t want to have to cross her fingers that there will be enough money in the account to pay for groceries and medical bills. She doesn’t want to be embarrassed when her card is declined like she was at the pediatrician’s office. All she’s asking for is control over her life. She’s asking for an amount certain that she can put in a bank account and be in charge of. She’s asking that this man,” Jessica gently released Susan’s hand and strode uncomfortably close to Ray, emphasizing her words with a red-painted nail stabbing toward his head with each syllable, “this man, the man who likened himself to having the power of God and His Only Begotten Son over her, should not have any more control over her grocery budget. She shouldn’t have to beg a man she’s divorcing to kindly allow her to buy Cheerios for their children.” Then she sat down, wondering if she’d gone a little far with the drama, but she also knew there was no taking her words back, so she plastered a righteous look on her face.
Judge Miles looked worn out more than anything. He turned his head back and forth from the two parties’ tables, not seeming to make eye contact with anyone in particular, and then let out a big breath.
“I’m going to take this under advisement,” he said. “I’ll give both parties until Friday at five to present proposed orders.” He stood up and slouched back into his chambers, thus ending the hearing without any formal ending to the hearing.
Jessica scrunched her face closed, hoping that by the time she reopened her eyes and mouth, everyone else in the room would have left. Unfortunately, Susan still sat to her right, staring at her. Jessica needed a moment before she could speak to Susan, so she glanced to her left. Chris and Ray were leaning heads together, whispering. Chris swiveled his head, saw her, and then motioned for Ray to get up. With a nod to Jessica in farewell, they left the room together.
“What … happened?” Susan asked, the words a city block apart.
Jessica closed her eyes and took a breath. “Short story is not much. Yet. The judge isn’t deciding anything right now. He’s given me—and Ray’s lawyer—until Friday to submit proposed orders—orders we think he should sign based on today’s testimony—to him, which means he doesn’t plan to tell us anything until at least Monday.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” Susan’s fingers tapped on the table, and given the revelations of the past few hours, Jessica wondered if she was tapping some kind of message to some otherworldly being.
“I don’t know. Judges take things under advisement all the time. Sometimes because they want to think about what they’ve heard without making a snap judgment. Sometimes they’re just being cowards and don’t want to have to look you in the eye when they say what they think. If they email us an order, they don’t have to see us react. Sometimes they’re just hungry and have to pee and need an excuse to get off the bench. Honestly, we’ll never know why. What’s going to happen? I have no idea. It really would have helped if I hadn’t been the absolute last person to know what happened in your kitchen.” Jessica stared at Susan, trying to communicate her irritation.
Susan sat in silence.
“Look,” Jessica said, “this isn’t the time or place to talk about it. Too many witnesses. We’ll figure out a time to talk later this week.”
