by Lara Bazelon
Flooded with shame, Will tries again to reach for her, apologizing, saying that he just wants to be close to her, to comfort her. “I know,” he says, “it’s a lot. Maybe I said too much just now. You need time. But let me hold you,” he says, again and again, “let me.”
Luz lifts her hands from her face. Her eyes are streaming, her nose is running, her makeup looks like a child has experimented with black and red finger paint, but to Will she is the most beautiful woman in the world.
“I love you,” he says again.
“Leave me alone,” she says in a fierce, quiet voice he has never heard before. Mortified now and also a little frightened, Will starts up the car again, making a U-turn to head back to where he came from. Luz turns away, making a small place for herself on the far edge of the passenger seat. For the rest of the ride, she never once looks in his direction.
Friday, March 23, 2007
8:30 a.m.
United States District Court
for the Central District of California
“First,” Dars says, “some ground rules before we call in the jury.” He seems to have put extra gel in his pompadour today, aspiring to a regal look, his gaze imperious as he looks out over the packed courtroom.
Lawyers from both offices are out in force, but a sizable part of the crowd is reporters. The Los Angeles Times and every other local paper has diligently covered the trial. In addition to leading the local news—radio and TV—Will and Abby have fielded calls by CNN, Court TV, and even People magazine, which is running Luz as one of their true-crime features. The fact that neither they nor Shauna are permitted to talk to the press has made the feeding frenzy worse; into the void have jumped so-called experts of every stripe: former prosecutors and defense attorneys–turned–law professors spouting nonsense, speculating about the lawyers, their strategies, and most especially about Luz. Beaten Wife or Cold-Blooded Killer, screamed yesterday’s headline in the National Enquirer, which was apparently having a slow week on the celebrity muckraking front.
“Number one,” Dars says, looking at the lawyers, “there was a last-minute request from the defense for a break in the trial to allow the defendant to mourn her grandmother, who passed away yesterday. That motion is denied. The jury is here and we are not going to stop this trial.”
Will sees Luz sag visibly in her chair, and even though he knew this was coming, he is suddenly so angry that it takes all of his self-control not to hurl a stream of invective at Dars. How is it possible to be so inhumane? Then he thinks about his own behavior in the car and his face grows hot. He was no better than Charles, who in the novel’s pivotal scene had forced himself on Sarah under the delusion that they were seeking the same kind of intimacy. Depending on which ending of the book one embraced, Charles’s decision to indulge his selfish hunger had cost him Sarah’s love. Will sighs, more loudly than he had intended, and is rewarded with a withering look from Abby.
“Number two,” Dars continues, “and on a related topic. The government has moved to exclude any reference to the grandmother’s death. I’m going to grant that motion. We are not going to have this jury contaminated by extraneous matters or moved by undue sympathy.”
That last comment gets Will to his feet. “Your Honor—”
“Sit down, Mr. Ellet. You got to put on your little show. Now it’s Ms. Gooden’s turn.”
Will takes a quick glance at Shauna, noting the careful choice of clothes: navy blue suit, white blouse, tasteful pearl necklace and earrings. Light touches of blush and eyeshadow. She looks all business: classy but not cold.
“Number three.” Dars lets his gaze settle on Luz. “I’ve given a lot of thought to the attorney-client communications here—the ones between the defendant and Mr. Estrada. Now, I’ve had my law clerk look into this, and it is clear to me that the defendant does not waive the privilege by taking the stand in her own defense. Not based on what we know. The only reason to break the privilege would be that she used her attorney to help her kill her husband and we don’t have evidence of that.”
Shauna stands. “Respectfully, we might, Your Honor, but Mr. Estrada has declined to provide it.”
“So he has.” Dars gives a sage nod. “And I put him in jail for it. But the fact remains that without him telling me, in a sealed hearing, outside the presence of the government, a privilege that I extended to him—” here Dars’s voice takes on a tone of righteous indignation “—I don’t have the basis to make that ruling. Therefore, Ms. Gooden, you may not inquire into those conversations. But you can ask the defendant about the fact that she made those calls, when she made them, how long they were, that sort of thing. The jury has that evidence in the form of his billing records.”
Over Luz’s head, Will and Abby exchanged a relieved glance.
“Alright then. Mrs. Rivera Hollis, you will retake the witness stand. Let me remind you that you are still under oath.”
* * *
From the beginning, Will can sense it’s going wrong. All wrong. Within minutes, Luz’s affect has gone from flat to pissy. At first, she sounded like a bored teenager. Now she sounds like a bitch. He can feel Abby tensing; her poker face mask is firmly in place but she has gone pale, her lips pressed together in a thin, bloodless line.
“That’s not what I said.”
Will snaps his attention back to Luz, who has crossed her arms over her chest and is glaring at Shauna.
Shauna smiles pleasantly, as if over a minor misunderstanding. “You didn’t say to Captain Aronson that the only way to get away from your husband would be to kill him?”
“No. I told him Travis was possessive and jealous and that he could get violent if he thought I was even looking at another guy.”
“Why would Captain Aronson say that you said you would have to kill your husband to get away from him if it wasn’t true?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”
Shauna casts her doe eyes at Dars. “Your Honor, please admonish the witness that it is my job to ask the questions and the defendant’s job to answer them.”
Dars, who has settled back in his chair, appears to be thoroughly enjoying himself. “It sounds like you did just that, Ms. Gooden. Next question.”
“You told the jury that before you stabbed your husband, he had attempted to rape you—”
“I never said it was rape.” Luz’s eyes are glittering.
Clearly surprised, Shauna takes a literal step back. “Did you want to have sex with him that night?”
Luz shakes her head like Shauna is stupid. “It’s not about whether I wanted it. He was my husband. What happened between us wasn’t rape.”
“You had sex to make up after fights?”
Luz is practically rolling her eyes now at the obviousness of the question. “Sometimes.”
“But not that time. You were not willing to make up with your husband that night, were you?”
“You saw—” Luz gestures to the narrow pathway where she and Will had so perfectly executed the marital death dance.
“Objection,” Will says. He is not sure it is even his own voice he’s hearing. “Argumentative.”
“Overruled.”
Luz turns back to Shauna, clearly exasperated. “What do you think I could have done?”
“You created the situation and then you chose to escalate it, because you were angry.” Shauna, managing to sound both firm and sorrowful, lands the arrow.
“You think I got him drunk? You think I made him hit me?” Luz shakes her head in disgust. “Look at him. Look at me. What do you think I could have done?”
“I think,” Shauna says evenly, “that you wanted to make him as hurt and angry as he made you. I think your intent was to provoke him.”
Luz snorts. “You don’t know anything about my intent.”
“I know you were angry.”
Will is up again. “Ob
jection. Calls for speculation—”
“Overruled.”
“Your Honor—”
Without looking at him, Abby says in a barely audible whisper, “Sit down and shut up, Will.”
“I wasn’t angry,” Luz says.
Shauna’s eyes widen. “Hours before he came home drunk, you learned that your husband had betrayed you in the worst way possible by fathering a child with his ex-girlfriend. Your testimony to this jury is that you weren’t angry?”
“I was disappointed.”
Shauna lets her answer hang in the air for a moment before moving on. Will cannot bear to look at the jurors, pretends to take notes on his notepad.
“You testified,” Shauna reminds her, “that you were going to leave your husband when the money came through from your grandmother for plane tickets. That could take days or weeks. What was your plan in the meantime?”
Luz shrugs. “Just take it day by day, I guess. I thought Travis would leave after I told him to and we could live apart until it was time for me and Cristina to go.”
Now it is Shauna who is crossing her arms, taking on, Will has no doubt, the expression she once used with her own kids when they lied to her face about something readily disprovable. “So let me see if I understand. Your husband comes home, very drunk. You tell him that you are leaving him and taking Cristina with you even though, according to you, he was possessive and was never going to let go of you much less let you take his daughter away. Your expectation was that his response would be to leave the house voluntarily and what? Go stay with friends on the base in the meantime?”
“I don’t know. I guess.”
“Even though, according to you, when your husband got very drunk, he got violent.”
“According to me?” Luz shakes her head in disbelief. “Ask the guy he punched in the face at the bar. Ask his friends. Ask anyone who knew him.” Her voice gets louder with each sentence. “When he got drunk and jealous, he got mean, and he wanted to take everybody else down with him.”
“But he wasn’t going to take you down, was he?”
“I wasn’t going to let him kill me, no.” Luz’s eyes are glittering again, her hand raised, a shaking index finger pointed at Shauna. She is so angry that Will can feel it; for a moment he can feel the blade entering his own body.
“He never said he was going to kill you, did he?”
“No.” Luz’s tone has gone sarcastic. “He just slapped me, yanked back my hair so my head almost came off from my neck. He just called me a cunt and told me to start praying. That’s all.” Luz turns to the jury with a frosty smile. Can you believe this bullshit? Will, watching the twelve faces, wills her to stop, wills it all to stop.
“But all those things had happened before in your relationship, to one degree or another, right?”
“This time it was different.”
“It was different because you decided it was going to be different.”
“It was different because I had Cristina to think about.”
Shauna nods. “You didn’t want her growing up in that environment.”
Luz stares at her, shaking her head in disbelief.
Shauna appeals to Dars, who says, “Answer the question.”
Luz rounds on him, half rising in her chair, and screams, “I had to protect my baby.” The sound of her voice seems shocking even to her, and she sinks back down with her hand over her mouth.
Dars says evenly, “Raise your voice like again and I will strike your testimony. All of it.” He nods at Shauna. “Ask your next question.”
Shauna’s voice is quiet but firm. “Are you telling us that if it hadn’t been for Cristina, you would not have resorted to violence?”
Luz is back to rolling her eyes. “I am not a violent person. I don’t go around stabbing people, if that’s what you mean.”
Will is on his feet but Shauna’s question is already out.
“Isn’t it true that when you were in high school you stabbed a girl in the bathroom?”
Will is shouting, “Sidebar, Your Honor.”
Abby has already started for the bench. When they are gathered around the court reporter, she speaks first, her face the color of ash. “Your Honor, we move for a mistrial—”
“Not you.” Dars turns pointedly to Will. “She’s your witness.”
Will has made the mistake of looking at Luz, who is staring straight ahead, eyes vacant. There is too much saliva in his mouth and he has to stop to swallow. “We move for a mistrial,” he repeats. “You ruled weeks ago that her juvenile prior could not be brought up and there’s case law stacked to the ceiling that says so. Those are sealed records.” He hears his voice shake. “They are never admissible. Never.”
Shauna says, quietly, “She just lied. When a witness lies, I have the right to expose the lie.”
“She didn’t lie,” Will explodes. “Jesus Christ.”
“That is enough.” Dars is looking past them at the jury box and Will follows his gaze to meet twelve wide-eyed stares. Dars turns back and says in a low voice, “The motion for a mistrial is denied.” Will starts to say something and Dars puts out his hand, five fingers spread, inches from Will’s face. “Shut up. Shut. Up.” The court reporter lifts her hands from the stenographer’s machine and for a moment they are all silent, waiting.
Dars says, “The defendant did lie. She’s been lying. She’s a liar. But—” and now Dars is looking at Abby “—I’m going to do you a favor here. I’m gonna split the baby. So to speak.” He smiles at his own humor. “The question will be withdrawn and stricken from the record. The jury will be instructed that the defendant was in a physical altercation in high school with another student where she used a knife to inflict injury.”
Beside him, Will hears Abby’s sharp intake of breath. He says, “That’s worse than letting her answer the question. At least then she could explain—”
Dars leans in, his face inches from Will’s. “She doesn’t get to explain. Now step back.”
“Your Honor—”
“I said step back.”
Shauna nods once, turns, and briskly walks to her place at the podium, Will and Abby trailing in her wake.
“Alright then.” Dars leans forward, his eyes on the jurors. “The question is stricken. But I am taking judicial notice that the defendant was involved in an incident where she wielded a knife against another student while at school at the age of sixteen and inflicted injury. Judicial notice means you are to accept what I have told you as a proven fact.” He looks at Shauna. “Move on.”
Shauna turns a page in her notebook. “When we left off, you were telling us about your responsibilities as a mother. One of those responsibilities is to provide for your child. At the time you were living on the military base with your husband, did you have a job?”
“I would have found something back in California.”
“Did you have any savings?”
“No.” Luz, scowling, isn’t even looking at Shauna now.
“What you did have, though, was Sergeant Hollis’s $400,000 life insurance policy?”
“Not while he was alive I didn’t.”
“Not while he was alive,” Shauna repeats and Will feels the dread curdle in his stomach. “But if he was dead, no one stood to benefit financially except for you.”
“The money was for Cristina.”
“Your lawyer, Mr. Estrada, arranged that?”
“Yes.”
“Before you killed your husband?”
“You’re acting like I planned it. I didn’t.”
Shauna looks at the jury. “You picked up a steak knife and stabbed him through the heart.”
Luz leans forward, her voice rising again. “I was defending myself. I was defending my baby.”
“You had no injuries. He was nowhere near the baby.”
“So
what? I’m supposed to wait until he broke one of my bones? Until he grabbed Cristina out of her crib and threw her against a wall?”
Will cringes.
“You took a parenting class before you had your daughter, right?”
Will looks at Abby. Where is she going with this? But Abby’s eyes are trained on Luz, her face a studied blank.
“Yes.”
“In the class, you learned to perform CPR, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“As your husband lay bleeding to death on the floor of your house, did you at any point attempt to perform CPR on him?”
“I was in a panicked state, I couldn’t think—”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“I called for help,” Luz says with a note of triumph, as if she is reminding Shauna of a fact she had forgotten. “Before all of it happened. I tried to get help.”
“You called your husband’s boss. Why didn’t you call 911 right away if the situation was as bad as you are saying?”
“I thought I could handle it with him helping me. That’s what I believed.” Luz is starting to lose energy, her anger flattening to surliness. “I never meant for this to happen. I never thought it would end up like this.”
“Like what?”
Luz gestures to the jury, the judge, then the whole courtroom in a widening sweep of her hand. “I never thought I would be here.”
“You never thought anyone would blame you, isn’t that right?”
“No one should blame me.” Luz has crossed her arms again, is staring at Shauna defiantly.
“But you blame yourself,” Shauna says softly, “don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“When you are being honest, you do.”
“I’m not lying,” Luz says, stubborn as a cornered child.
“Well, you weren’t lying yesterday. Do you remember what you said?”
“Not really. Basically, I was out of my mind. Having to relive that night—” Luz breaks off. “You have no idea. You have no idea,” she repeats, “what I have had to go through.”