We were bombarded with questions, microphones and clicking cameras. With Claudia on one side of Rebecca and me on the other, we took the steps as quickly as we could. They were on our heels like bloodhounds.
“Do you think the judge will really make Charlene give back a breast implant?”
“And half her buttocks?”
“How much of a settlement are you expecting?”
No comment! No comment! No comment!
They followed us right in to the courtroom, where the public seats were completely filled and the overflow lined the walls. I knew that when Judge Shelby entered the courtroom, she was not going to be pleased. I was right.
Everyone stood, and she scanned the room carefully, putting everyone present on notice that this was a serious proceeding. Her expression was inscrutable, but I knew enough about her from the morning’s session to know she wasn’t about to allow her courtroom to become a circus.
“Thank you for your respect to the court. Please be seated.” She folded her arms across her desk and looked across the sea of faces, faces anticipating an afternoon of entertainment, making mockery of the broken lives of Rebecca and Nat, the takeaway value being raunchy gossip about Charlene’s transformation and how pathetic Rebecca had become. Shelby reached up, removed her reading glasses from her head, folded them, placed them on her desk and leaned back. The room was absolutely silent as she scanned it once more. “All right then,” she said, “I can see we have a lot of newcomers to today’s hearing, and I also see that a lot of you are from the press. I’m going to lay down some guidelines, which, if not followed precisely, will result in your immediate expulsion from the courtroom. No cell phones, no talking among yourselves and no pictures are to be taken, which includes the videotaping of this session. Any and all conversations with the defendant, the plaintiff or the witnesses in this case are to be conducted outside this building. Do I make myself clear?”
There was some rumbling and movement and the sounds of cell phones being powered down. Throats were cleared, cameras were put back in their cases and the courtroom became quiet. Judge Shelby motioned to Albright to get the party started.
“I’d like to call Dr. Karen Tedesco to take the stand.”
Dr. Tedesco came forward, was sworn in and took her place in the witness chair. She was the quintessential image of a fifties high school guidance counselor. Imperious and smug. Brittle-mannered and buttoned up. Unmanicured but tidy, not that tidy was bothersome, but her tidiness probably extended to excruciatingly clean hairbrushes and refrigerator hydrator drawers compulsively scrubbed with disinfecting agents in the belief the efforts helped to ward off head colds or neuralgia. Her shoe rack probably held ten pairs of round-toed sensible shoes and a row of blouses covered in tiny prints. She probably hadn’t had great sex in thirty years if ever and never with someone of another social class. Okay, okay, you know the type.
Her identity and profession noted for the record, Albright began his questioning.
“Dr. Tedesco, how long have you known the Simms children?”
“For five years.”
“And would you call them troubled children?”
“No, not at all. They were good children. Never in any trouble.”
“Good. Now, can you please tell the court how you came to know the children had problems?”
“It began last winter when I found them waiting in the rain for their mother to pick them up from school. It was getting dark and I saw them outside on the front lawn of the campus. They were getting drenched, poor things. So I went up to them and said, Is someone coming to pick you up? Sami, the older one, said something like, Mom’s late again. So I just sort of put that in the back of my head and waited another twenty minutes until she arrived. Mrs. Simms said there was an accident on the Cooper River Bridge and she was stuck. Then it happened several more times and I started making notes about it. I mean, how many accidents are there on the bridge? Not that many.” At that point Dr. Tedesco straightened herself and pursed her lips in Rebecca’s direction. “Let’s be honest. It’s not safe for a child to be left like that what with all you read in the papers these days.”
“So, the children’s safety was compromised because they were frequently left unattended after school, sometimes in the dark and sometimes in inclement weather.”
“In my professional opinion, yes, it was. And their health as well.”
“What other kinds of things got your attention about the Simms children?”
“Well, in the early years, Mrs. Simms was always around the school. She served as class mother many times and was very active in the parents’ organization. Suddenly, I didn’t see her at all! She didn’t attend the science fair and other activities the school had for the children to show what they were doing in class. I actually called her to see if everything was all right in the home and she didn’t sound right to me.”
“What do you mean she didn’t sound right?”
“Well, if you want my honest opinion, she sounded a little whoopee.”
“Can you define whoopee for the court?”
“Of course, you know what that is—either alcohol or drugs.”
“Do you recall what time of day or night you made that phone call?”
“Yes, it was around five o’clock. I remember that distinctly because I was about to go home. My colleagues leave as fast as they can, but I like to stay and do paperwork when the school finally gets quiet.” She looked up at Shelby as though the judge would put in a good word for her with the board of education. Shelby all but sniffed at her.
“Okay, just one more question, Dr. Tedesco. How did you come to be the one to help the children write letters to Judge Shelby asking to live with their father instead of their mother?”
“One day I saw Sami crying in the hallway. Her locker was jammed and she couldn’t open it. That happens from time to time. Anyway, she was obviously very frustrated, and so I asked her if she wanted to come into my office and talk for a moment. She said that she would. Well, then the poor girl started pouring out her heart to me. She said her mother had turned into a monster and that she fought with the whole family all the time. She seemed to know that her father intended to file for divorce and she didn’t want to live with her mother.”
“Can you qualify monster? I mean, were there specific incidences of cruel behavior on the part of the mother?”
“No, not exactly cruel. I would say that Sami felt that she couldn’t make her mother happy no matter what she did. She was a very unhappy young lady. As was her brother. She begged me to help them.”
“I see. No further questions.”
I stood to have my moment with Dr. Tedesco.
“Dr. Tedesco. How common is it for teenage girls to be unhappy?”
“Oh!” she said, smiling. “Teenagers? They’re never happy! They love to find things to complain about, but that’s also a natural part of the maturation process—you know, that the adults have to be wrong or out of style so that they can justify breaking away and trying things on their own.”
“Yes.” I paused. “Well, that’s always been my thought too. It’s a very volatile time in their lives, hormones kicking in, worrying about popularity, getting into college and all those things…am I right?”
“Oh, my yes! Just look at the national suicide statistics. Shocking!”
“Yes, and heartbreaking too. I guess what has me bothered about your testimony so far is that there’s no abuse, no serious neglect, nothing beyond Sami’s normal fluctuating teenage emotions over a ride home from school, which—correct me if I’m wrong—is ten blocks from their home, and that in her teenage judgment she thinks that she and her brother would fare better in the custody of their father. Did she tell you why she thought that was the case?”
“Well, I know that their father spent a lot of time with them, especially on the weekends, taking them to Clemson games all over the southeast. Sami wants to go to Clemson and become a cheerleader. I guess they have more fun with him.”
“More fun? Fun?” I stopped and looked at the judge. “Well, fun does have its place in a parent-child relationship. Not as important as raising children with good morals, values and good personal habits.”
“Objection!”
“Sustained. Ms. Thurmond? You know better.”
I arched an eyebrow at Shelby and she arched one back in agreement. Fun Dad. Party Dad. Good-time Dad. No, the message was clear to all present and Tedesco was not happy about her testimony being trivialized.
“All right, her mother was late picking them up some of the time. Do you recall when that began?”
“Yes, it was last winter, because it started getting dark earlier.”
“And this implication that Mrs. Simms sounded like she had been using drugs or alcohol when you spoke to her on the phone. When was that?”
“That was sometime after Easter. And before school ended for the year.”
“And you said earlier while being questioned by Mr. Albright that you began to document how frequently Rebecca Simms was late to pick up her children. Can you tell the court how many times that was?”
“Twice, after that first time I spoke to Sami and Evan about it. But as you know, Sami said there had been other times.”
“Twice? That many! Wow. I see. Since you were building a file against Mrs. Simms, did you bother to ask her why she was late? A dental appointment? Maybe a flat tire?”
“No, I did not.”
“So basically, you wrote letters with the children to this court to support a claim that it would be in the best interest of the children to live with their father based on three late pickups that you witnessed, the whining of a teenage girl and the supposition that paternal custody would be more fun for the children?”
No answer.
“Please answer the question.”
Dr. Tedesco began to bluster. “Well, it sounds very…I mean, the way you put it…”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.” It was a yes with the sound and size of a mite.
“All right, Dr. Tedesco, you may step down. I’d like to call Jeff Mahoney, your honor.”
Mahoney took the stand and hammered Nat Simms’s reputation as a man, a husband and as a father.
“How would you describe Nat Simms as a man?”
“If I answer that question, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have very many flattering things to say, Ms. Thurmond. He’s not my favorite neighbor.”
“Well, then, try to describe his character in a factual manner, based on incidents you have actually witnessed.”
“You mean like last Christmas at the Joneses’ holiday party? I was standing there next to Nat and two other gentlemen in their dining room next to the buffet. The room was very crowded. We couldn’t help but overhear John Smiley’s wife going on and on about the great job Rebecca had done putting together the nativity pageant at church. Then she went on about Rebecca’s watercolors—she’s an artist, you know.”
I just nodded my head so he would keep talking.
“Jim Hardy leaned into Nat and said something like, You must be awful proud of her. Nat said, and I’ll remember these words till the day I die, She makes me sick. Then he took his glass of wine and threw it on the back of her dress. Rebecca jumps, Smiley’s wife shrieks and Nat says something like, Oh! I’m so sorry! I tripped! He wasn’t sorry. It was deliberate. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I see. And are there any other incidents you can recall?”
“Yes. A lot of them. Virtually every time I ran into him when he was with his wife, something snide would come out of his mouth.”
“Do you mean a snide remark about his wife?”
“Yes. And when he was with the men, like a Super Bowl party or something, it was always a game of one-upmanship. He’s just generally obnoxious. Almost intolerable.”
“Okay. And how would you describe him as a father?”
Jeff Mahoney looked down and chuckled, shaking his head.
“Pathetic. Look, my daughter is in Sami’s class. How about this? She told me that Nat promised his daughter breast implants when she goes to college to help her chances of becoming a cheerleader, if and only if she would make a strong argument that she wanted to live with him. Is that good parenting? Isn’t that a little sick?”
“Thank you, Mr. Mahoney.” I turned to Albright. “Your witness.”
“No questions.”
Things were progressing nicely, even better than I expected. Dr. Tedesco’s testimony had been proven insignificant and Mahoney told the tale we needed. It was time to put Nat back in the spotlight.
“Your Honor, I would like to recall Mr. Nat Simms,” I said.
“You’re still under oath, Mr. Simms,” Shelby said.
Nat sat in the witness chair and looked at me with his so what face. Any other man would have been sheepish or furious from the implications of his loathsome behavior. But not Nat. He could not have cared less what anyone thought of him.
“Mr. Simms, do you use the Internet?”
“Sure. Everyone does.”
“Have you ever visited a chat room?”
“Sure. All the time. It’s fun.”
“Have you ever posed as a teenager in a teenage chat room? Or visited a porn site?”
“No. Why in the world would I do that?”
“Your Honor, I’d like to enter into evidence the hard drive of Nat Simms’s computer that has hundreds of records showing visits to teenage chat rooms and pornographic Web sites.”
Nat started laughing as the clerk took the evidence.
“Would the witness like to tell the court what’s funny about this?”
“I have a son, you know. You don’t think boys go to porn sites? He’s a red-blooded American boy with a healthy interest in women! And the teenage chat rooms? You know…”
I gave him sufficient rope from which he could hang and dangle his sorry ass.
“I have a teenage girl! So what’s the big deal?”
Nat looked all around the courtroom with his hands extended as if to say, Right? Right?
“The big deal, Mr. Simms, is that the computer tower is located in your bedroom and almost all of these site visits happened after two o’clock in the morning and on weeknights. Are you saying that your children sneaked into your room at that hour and used your computer? When they have their own laptops?”
Little beads of sweat formed on the witness’s forehead and he stuttered, “Uh, uh…”
“Probably not in the best interest of the children to live with a parent who frequents porn sites.”
“Objection!” I looked at Albright. I’m happy to report that my colleague did not look well. Had Albright truly thought I wouldn’t use it? It was in the interrogatory and the deposition. Just because Nat lied then it didn’t mean I couldn’t use the evidence.
Shelby ignored Albright and looked at me. She was getting disgusted and it was all over her face.
“Mr. Simms, is it true that you actually promised your daughter surgery as a reward for her lobbying efforts to help you win custody?”
“No.”
“Did you ever discuss plastic surgery with your daughter?”
“No.”
What? The liar! “Not ever?”
“That’s right. Not ever.”
“Did you make promises to her of any kind if she would help you in this custody argument?”
“No.”
“Does your daughter know Charlene Johnson?”
“Yes.”
“What does she think about her?”
“’Bout the same thing we all do.”
“Which is?”
“That she ain’t nothing but a liar and a social climber. I couldn’t get rid of her. That woman was driving me crazy!”
Charlene was on her feet that instant, trying to get from her seat to the witness box.
“WHAT?” Charlene screamed. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
Whack! Whack! Whack!
“I wasn’t gonna marry her. I mean look at her! She�
��s a freak!”
Just as Charlene almost got to Nat and was in midair diving for his throat, the burly deputy grabbed her, stabilized her and held her arms behind her back.
“YOU BASTARD!” Charlene spit and washed Nat’s ugly face.
“That’s it. Charlene Johnson? You’re in contempt of court!” Shelby turned to the deputy and said, “Get her out of here!”
“I HOPE SHE GETS YOUR LAST PENNY!”
Whack! Whack! Whack!
“This court is adjourned for the day! I want to see counsel and their clients in my chambers! Now!”
If anger was tangible matter and Judge Shelby had possessed the power to paint the air with it, all of us would have succumbed to fits of spasm from its electrical shock beginning at the doorway to the places where we stood around her desk. Shelby was beyond furious.
“This case is a disgrace,” she said, “and never should’ve seen a courtroom. Never! This is an appalling waste of my time and the taxpayers’ money. Mr. Albright? You knew the nature of your client’s behavior, his lies, and yet you allowed this display? Shame on you! I’m going to file a recommendation with the South Carolina Bar Association that you be censured! And you! Mr. Simms? Running around? Porn sites? And even skimming the family business? That’s a matter for another court, but you may be sure that I will inform the IRS of your criminal behavior. I have heard enough nonsense from both of you! Mr. Simms? You can’t stop trumping up charges against your wife? You can’t settle? Fine! Then I’m going to settle it for you. I’m going to make this decision tonight and read it in the morning and, by golly, you’ll comply, Mr. Simms or you’ll find yourself behind bars. Do either of you need any clarification? We reconvene at ten. Good day!”
Harry Albright and Nat Simms slithered out of her chambers like the snakes they were. We watched him go, listened to the solid clunk of the door behind them and then turned to each other.
“Thank you, Judge Shelby,” I said. “Would you like us to leave as well?”
“Of course you can go, but I thought you might like a moment to let them disappear and let the media disperse. Whew! This has been some day.”
“It was horrible,” Rebecca said. “I never even got a chance to tell my side.”
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