A Good Mother

by Lara Bazelon

  “Can you briefly describe your contact with Sergeant Hollis over the next year?”

  Jackie twists her hands in her lap. “We agreed not to have contact. No calls, emails, letters. But I’m close with his family, and I heard from Travis’s mom that Travis got married to her and they went to Germany when he got stationed there. Of course,” she adds, “I was relieved for his sake that it wasn’t a deployment to another war zone.”

  “When did you next see Sergeant Hollis?”

  “At his father’s funeral.” Jackie’s eyes well with tears again. “Travis’s dad died of a heart attack, just dropped to the ground one day out of the blue. That was in October, too, in 2005, right after my birthday. Travis flew home and we—we reconnected at the church, after the memorial service.”

  Shauna, still in head-nodding sympathy mode, asks, “Can you explain what you mean by reconnected?”

  “When we saw each other, it was like no time had passed. He came across the room—there must have been a hundred people—and embraced me the way he used to, in that bear-hug way of his. The attraction between us—there was no denying it, and that night he came over to my place and we—” Jackie’s voice drops “—we were intimate with each other.”

  Shauna is leaving nothing to the imagination. “You had sexual intercourse?”

  Jackie nods. “Well, yes. But that isn’t all I mean by intimate.” Jackie moistens her lips. “Travis was so sad, so deeply pained, and he told me what was in his heart.”

  “What was in his heart?” Shauna is gamely playing along, but Abby can only imagine how painful it is to stick to the paperback novel romance script. She looks at the jurors, trying to assess how Jackie is coming off and concludes that so far, they are buying it. There’s a reason why those dime-store books on the spin rack at Walmart sell millions of copies.

  Jackie sighs. “He was miserable in his marriage. He told me—”

  Abby is on her feet. “Hearsay, Your Honor.”

  “Indeed, it is,” says Dars dryly, “which is because, as you well know, Sergeant Hollis is unable to speak for himself. The objection is overruled.”

  Shauna looks to Jackie. “Go on.”

  “He told me that she was always changing up on him. Like he never knew who it was that was going to greet him at the door.”

  “And by ‘she,’ you mean the defendant?” Shauna turns to look directly at Luz and the jurors shift in their chairs as they follow her gaze. The moment stretches out like pulled elastic and Abby braces for the snap, but Luz only stares demurely down at the table, her eyes unreadable under her half-closed lids, her right hand gently worrying at the cross around her neck.

  “Yes. Sometimes she was as sweet as could be and other times she was cold, vicious even, in the things she would say to him. She had violent outbursts where she scratched and bit and kicked and slapped him. She saw other men behind his back but he knew about it. He said he had made the worst mistake of his life marrying her and he was going to file for divorce because every day was like a living hell.”

  “How did you leave things when it was time for Sergeant Hollis to go back to Germany?”

  “We both cried like babies. It was only four days that we had together and it had been like a taste of heaven. We stayed in touch by email, and I sent him letters with—” Jackie blushes “—some sexy pictures of me that he asked for.”

  You sure did, Abby thinks. The Jackie speaking to the jurors bears little resemblance to the Jackie in the naked selfies and pornographic emails collected in her binder. Abby had purposefully picked the color—a brilliant scarlet. Jurors, like everyone else, trafficked in stereotypes, however reductive and demeaning. Abby’s job was to flip the script and show the jurors that it was Jackie, not Luz, who was the man-eating temptress no female juror would want within a thousand miles of her husband.

  Jackie was on to the pregnancy, describing her delight at finding out just before Christmas. “The most beautiful present I could ever ask for.”

  Shauna flips a page in her binder. Time for some tough questions. “Now, you were seeing someone else at the time, Lance Richards. How could you be sure that you conceived the baby with Sergeant Hollis and not with him?”

  “Lance and I used protection,” Jackie says. “Travis and I didn’t.”

  “When you told Sergeant Hollis the news over email, he didn’t respond immediately, is that right?”

  “Yes, and at the time I was hurt by that. But now I realize the situation he was in.”

  “The situation being that the defendant was also pregnant by him?”

  Jackie nods. “I think he was scared. He was going to end the marriage and now everything was so much more complicated.”

  “But Sergeant Hollis didn’t tell you that directly?”

  “I’m sure he didn’t want to worry me.”

  “How did you find out?”

  Jackie looks down. “On Facebook.”

  “Can you explain?”

  “She posted a selfie of her sideways in a bikini showing off her baby belly.” Jackie’s voice is contemptuous, and her eyes seek out a few of the younger women on the jury as if for support. Beside Abby, Luz is completely still.

  “How did you connect with the defendant on Facebook?”

  Another lip bite. “I sent her a friend request and she accepted it.”

  “Why did you want to be friends with the defendant on Facebook?”

  Jackie flushes. “There was a lot I didn’t know and it was a way for me to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.”

  “What was your understanding of Sergeant Hollis’s intentions toward you?”

  “He was going to leave her to be with me and the baby. It’s just the situation was so complicated. He was stationed overseas, and all that was going to have to wait until he came back stateside. I got impatient.” Jackie’s eyes fill with tears again and this time, the clerk hands her the whole box of Kleenex. “If only I had just waited,” she says, her voice rising to a half wail. “If I had never sent her those emails Travis would still be alive.”

  Abby is on her feet, but Dars has already intervened. “That last sentence will be stricken and the jury will disregard.” He turns to Jackie, finger wagging. “You are not here to speculate about the events leading up to the victim’s death, young lady.”

  “You referred to sending the defendant some emails,” Shauna continues smoothly. “Can you tell the jury what the emails were and when you sent them?”

  This time, Jackie is having trouble meeting Shauna’s gaze. “I messaged her on Facebook asking for her email address. I said I had something important to tell her about Travis.”

  “What day was that?”

  “October 12, 2006.”

  “Did she respond?”

  “Yes, the next day, October 13, she messaged back with her email address and I wrote to her.”

  “The same day?”

  “Yes.”

  Shauna flips through her binder and pulls out a sheaf of paper. “The time stamp on the email you sent to the defendant says 3:02 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Do you know the time difference between Ohio and Germany?”

  “They are six hours ahead.”

  “So the defendant would have received this email at 9:02 p.m. her time?”

  “Yes.”

  Shauna turns to the jury. “The parties have stipulated that an analysis of the computer in the defendant’s home shows that the email was opened at 9:58 p.m. in Ramstein-Miesenbach, Germany. A stipulation means you must accept that as a proven fact.”

  She turns back to Jackie. “Tell me about the email.”

  “All the communications between me and Travis were in one string back and forth. I hit the forward button, typed in her email address, and hit send.”

  “You sent a year’s worth of emails documenting your affair and pregnancy with Serg
eant Hollis to the defendant?”

  Jackie lifts her chin. “Yes,” she says, and there is a note of defiance in her voice. “I wanted her to know the truth.”

  Shauna walks up to Jackie holding a stack of paper and places it before her. “Are these the emails you are referring to?”

  Jackie picks up the paper and flips through a few of the pages. This time the color spreads from her face to her neck in a mottled rash. “Yes.”

  “Your Honor, we would move these into evidence.”

  Dars looks at Abby who shakes her head slightly.

  “There being no objection from the defense, the items will be received.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jackie whispers. She bows her head and her shoulders shake as she sobs quietly.

  Dars looks at Shauna who says, “The government has no further questions at this time.”

  * * *

  “You’re sorry?” Abby asks politely, as if to make sure she’s heard correctly. She will not be raising her voice, not once during the entirety of the examination. Jackie must be the high-pitched red-faced one. The woman who is not in control.

  “Of course, I am.” Jackie has stopped crying now, but her face is pink and puffy. It makes her look angry and her tone has an edge to it.

  Abby walks from the podium back to the counsel table and stands behind Luz, her hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Luz stiffens at her touch, and Abby, careful not to look irritated, presses down with the pads of her fingers until her posture softens.

  “Are you apologizing to Mrs. Rivera Hollis?”

  Jackie’s mouth falls open. “I—No.”

  Abby nods. “The emails you forwarded to Mrs. Rivera Hollis about your affair with her husband were accompanied by a message you wrote. I’d like you to read the message out loud please.”

  Jackie dutifully picks up the top page, but her hands are trembling. There is a pause before she begins to read and Abby can hear the collective movement in the jury box as they lean in to listen. Abby stays where she is, her hands now firmly on Luz’s shoulders, forcing Jackie to look in Luz’s direction if she lifts her eyes from the page.

  “‘I am sending you these emails because you need to know the truth. Travis and I were together for six years before he met you and we’ve been together again since last October. I had his baby in July. We belong together, always have and always will.’” Jackie looks up. “I was upset when I wrote this next part. I didn’t really—”

  “Finish reading, please,” Abby says and makes sure to give Jackie an encouraging smile.

  “‘Your baby is a’—” Jackie swallows audibly “—‘your baby is a grudge-fuck, ours is a love-fuck.’” Her voice has dropped to an almost inaudible whisper.

  “A what now?” Dars says, and when Jackie just stares back at him mutely, he says impatiently to the court reporter, “What did she say?”

  They all wait while the court reporter reads back the words in a slow, loud monotone, which has the effect of making the obscenity sound even worse. Dars is all smiles. “Next question,” he says to Abby.

  “She’s not done,” Abby says, her eyes still on Jackie. “Keep reading, please.”

  Dars leans forward and gives Jackie another naughty girl finger wag. “And make sure we can all hear you this time.”

  “‘Travis doesn’t love you.’” Jackie’s voice has gone tinny. “‘All that happened was that you tricked him into believing that you were something other than the Mexican whore you really are.’” Abby hears a sharp intake of breath from the jury box. “‘He is going to leave you as soon as he can, but you could make things easier for everyone and clear out on your own. Just don’t plan on any child support. There’s always welfare for people like you.’”

  Abby lets the last words descend on the silent courtroom as she walks back to the podium.

  “What plans had Sergeant Hollis made to leave his wife?”

  “Like I said already, he was going to file for divorce.”

  “But he didn’t, did he?”

  Jackie’s chin comes up again and her tone is truculent. “He never got the chance.”

  Abby pretends to look puzzled. “But you said the affair had been going on for nearly a year. Over and over again in these emails, you express impatience at Sergeant Hollis’s failure to take any steps to be with you, isn’t that right?”

  “It was just a matter of time.”

  “In the meantime, you stalked my client online?”

  Shauna is on her feet objecting but Dars waves her down.

  “I didn’t stalk her. I just made friends with her on Facebook.”

  “Made friends with her.” Abby takes her time with each word as she looks at the jurors. “You pretended to be her friend as a way of keeping tabs on Sergeant Hollis because you didn’t believe he was telling you the truth about the state of his marriage?”

  “No. You’re twisting my words around.”

  Abby turns to Will, who taps a few keys on the computer. Up comes a color photograph of Luz, eight months pregnant, seated on Travis’s lap. They are outside, at what looks like a backyard party: there are plates on the table in front of them littered with the remnants of chicken wings, spare ribs, and potato salad along with cans of Budweiser and Coors light. Luz is looking directly into the camera, her face lit up with a huge smile. Travis’s hands are placed protectively over her swollen belly and her hands rest lightly on top of his, her diamond ring and wedding band prominently on display. He is looking at Luz with an expression of naked adoration on his face.

  “Mrs. Rivera Hollis posted that picture on October 11, 2006, reminiscing on her pregnancy following the birth of their daughter?”

  “I don’t know why she posted it.”

  Abby leaves the picture up on the screen.

  “Seeing that picture must have made you angry?”

  “No, that was an old picture, and anyway, I knew Travis had to keep up appearances.”

  “But it was the very next day that you messaged Mrs. Rivera Hollis on Facebook. Then, immediately after she sent you her email address, you replied and attached the history of your—” Abby winces slightly “—correspondence. Is that correct?”

  “I thought once she knew the truth, she would do the right thing.”

  “The truth,” Abby repeats. “The truth was that Sergeant Hollis liked getting your dirty emails and naked pictures, right?”

  Jackie is scarlet now, but it isn’t blushing—she’s angry. “That was just one part of our relationship.”

  Abby picks up the stack of papers that is her copy of the emails and rifles through the pages. “Of course, the jurors will have a chance to read these and judge for themselves, but it seems to me like that was the entirety of the relationship.”

  Shauna stands. “Is there a question pending, Your Honor, because I’m not hearing one, just a lot of speechifying from Ms. Rosenberg.”

  “Yes, and the speech is stricken. Move on, counsel.”

  “The truth is that Sergeant Hollis did not believe that Chance was his son?”

  “Not at first but then I proved it to him.”

  “You took a DNA test, then hid the results from your boyfriend, Lance Richards, and told him that the condom broke one night and that it was his baby?”

  “It was the story that Travis and me decided on.”

  “In fact, it is Lance Richards’s name on Chance’s birth certificate, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you never actually provided proof to Sergeant Hollis of this DNA test, did you?”

  “I did the test,” Jackie says fiercely. “Chance is Travis’s son.”

  Abby acts as if Jackie hasn’t answered, knowing it will infuriate her even more. “You wrote to my client telling her not to expect any child support from Sergeant Hollis. Did Sergeant Hollis provide child support for you and Chance?
”

  “Not officially, but he sent me money one time.”

  “How much?”

  “Thirty-five dollars.”

  Abby lets that answer sit for a moment, then asks, “Where in the chain of emails does Sergeant Hollis say, ‘I love you’?”

  Jackie’s eyes harden. “He told me,” she says. “I didn’t need it in writing.”

  Abby nods. “Where in the chain of emails does Sergeant Hollis say, ‘I do not love my wife’?”

  “He told me that.” Jackie’s hands have balled into fists, and when she speaks it is as if she is spitting out the words. “He told me.”

  Abby looks at the stone-cold faces of the jury. “I guess we’ll have to take your word for it.” She waits a beat, then says to Dars, “I have nothing further for this witness.”

  Thursday, March 22, 2007

  12:00 p.m.

  United States District Court

  for the Central District of California

  Abby, Will, and Antoine are seated around the small table in the witness room. Antoine has brought in sandwiches from Quiznos, and Will, his appetite back, is tearing through his meatball sub, pausing occasionally to swipe at the lower half of his face with a balled-up paper napkin.

  Antoine’s ability to order the messiest thing on the menu and escape unscathed has always impressed Abby. He’s swept his tie over one shoulder, and though his Reuben is drenched in Russian dressing, he manages to confine the drippings to the sandwich paper.

  Luz, her legs tucked under her, is seated on the carpet beside Cristina’s removable car seat, which she rocks with one hand while taking small bites of her ham-and-cheese sandwich with the other. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” is playing low on repeat from her iPod.

  Abby gamely picks up her can of Ensure and takes a swig. Outside, Nic is waiting with Cal so she can feed him. There had been no time to pump, yesterday or today. She has fifteen minutes to finish this can before she has to meet them, and she’s dreading it. For two days, Nic has not said a word to her that wasn’t absolutely necessary; last night, he slept on the couch. When she had gotten up in the middle of the night to pee, he had opened the door and looked past her sitting on the toilet seat at the empty bathtub, before closing it. After trial, she had told herself that morning, blotting her lipstick in the bathroom mirror while doing her best to ignore Cal, who was screaming like someone was trying to murder him. When Abby had tried to nurse him, Nic had said, “I’m warming up a bottle, so why don’t you get ready for work” in a voice that said, Get the fuck away from us. All morning she has trained her full attention on the task at hand: apply mascara, cross-examine Jackie, choke down chalk shake.