The Long Fall

by Daniel Quentin Steele

  “I don’t know if I want to. I don’t remember it and I still feel terrible.”

  “Do you want to be sick like this, feel like this... forever? If you don’t face this, it might keep coming back.”

  “Doctor...I’m frightened...I’m really scared...I don’t know why...but my heart is pounding...”

  He reached out and grabbed her hands in his own.

  “You’re still alive, Ms. Bascomb. No matter what it was, no matter how badly you were hurt physically or emotionally, you survived. You’re still here. It’s like a physical injury. With time and the proper treatment, you will heal.”

  Friday, August 26, 2005 -- 4 P.M.

  I stopped at Lew’s table. He had stepped away to talk to someone in the spectator section. Judy Johansen sat looking at me with an amused expression. I hadn’t talked to her one on one at any time since the trial had started, although I’d spent time cross-examining her. I’d hurt her, but I didn’t think I had sealed the deal.

  “You know you’re a terrible person, don’t you, Mr. Maitland,” she said with a trace of the Georgia accent from her childhood.

  “Takes one to know one, Ms. Johansen.”

  “That’s Ms. Carroll to you. And I’m an innocent widow. You’re a vicious monster who’s trying to railroad a grandmother into the Death Chamber. How do you live with yourself?”

  I leaned over the desk and stared into her eyes.

  “I was about to ask you that question, Judy. The man married you, loved you for five years. It wasn’t his fault that he was old, that the medicine he was on kept him from giving you the sex you got from your boyfriend. He cut his own children out of his will to make you a rich woman.

  I looked around and no one was close. We weren’t supposed to talk to defendants when their attorneys weren’t around, but who cared.

  “I’ve often wondered, Judy, how do people like you live with themselves? Even if you get off and you’re a rich woman, don’t you see his eyes while you’re drifting off to sleep. Don’t you have nightmares? You must have been a human being once upon a time. You were a little girl. You had parents you loved. Where did you lose it. Or are you one of those monsters that just look human?”

  She looked at me and I don’t think anyone might have ever seen it, but the mask slipped for a moment. She wasn’t crazy, like the Cannibal, but there was something cold and dark inside her.

  “I’m going to sleep very well, Mr. Maitland. My husband loved me and he would want me to enjoy all his millions. And I’m going to. I might send you postcards from Fiji, or wherever I go to spend my millions.”

  “Nobody sends postcards from Raiford, Judy, and that’s where you’re going.”

  “You prepared to bet $30 million on that?” And she smiled.

  “No, but you are.”

  I acted like I was going through papers on my desk. I was actually shuffling one particular piece of paper while I let the suspense built. We had finished all our witnesses, Lew had made what I thought was the mistake of putting Judy on the stand to try to nail down the impression for the jury that she was a poor little widow woman—worth $30 million. And in doing so he’d left me a last shot.

  I knew he’d thought he’d won. All other things being equal, he probably had. He was about to bust with barely concealed triumph. I loved the guy, but he could be a real pain in the ass.

  But the game wasn’t over. There was one last roll of the dice.

  I approached the jury. There were seven women and five men, and that was another reason why Lew thought he had an edge. Three of them were in their 60s, the rest in the 40s and under.

  “There’s been a lot of testimony, ladies and gentlemen, and Mr. Walters has done his level best to confuse the issues in this case. I congratulate him because he has done his usual masterful job. But, this is a fairly simple case.

  “Judy Johansen married a very wealthy man and her husband changed his will to make her a very wealthy woman—upon his death. For a year before his death she engaged in a sexual affair with a man 25 years her junior. Whether you believe the testimony of Mr. Ballantyne, her lover, or not, the fact is that she cheated on her husband for a year.

  “Then she made a...mistake. One that very fortunately made her a wealthy woman, removed the inconvenience of a troublesome husband, and gave her the freedom to spend his money buying as many boy toys as she could handle. Fortunate...that accident.

  “Now we can argue about how likely or plausible that fortunate accident was, but remember please that the law does not require that we prove our case beyond ANY doubt, only any REASONABLE doubt.

  “We have proven, beyond any reasonable doubt, that Ms. Johansen had more than sufficient motive to murder her husband, her story of a ‘mistake’ in providing medication is a joke, and she didn’t care enough about him to remain faithful in the last years of his life.”

  Lew was looking at me with a pitying glance, figuring I was desperately throwing anything at his client hoping something would stick.

  I walked back to my desk and picked up the pile of papers. Jessica nodded at me, aware of what I was about to do. I walked over in the general direction of Lew and his client and shuffled through the papers.

  “In the process of discovery, my office found a number of documents from her husband. One of those documents is this one. We provided it to the defense, but I don’t believe Ms. Johansen has ever seen this. It was found in her husband’s possessions after his death. It was a card that he planned to give to her on her 66th birthday, which would have occurred six days after his death.”

  I walked to a point near Johansen but out of the view of the jury so they had a clear, unobstructed view of the widow.

  “Judy...I am writing this because as you know, I am not a man good with words. When I try to tell you how I feel about you...my tongue gets tangled. I am just a grocer...nothing less....nothing more….I loved Ethel all my life, but I don’t think I ever told her anything but I love you. We haven’t had those years....but I want you to know....I have loved you.

  “I know you married me for my money...that’s okay....I’m an old, fat man...I have not been able to be...a man...for you since early in our marriage...you are still a beautiful woman and I know men look at you...I know more than that....and you know what I am saying...

  “But what I want you to know is that...it does not matter. I’m not sure I ever loved Ethel...the way I feel about you....she was a good woman..but at the end of my life, I have finally learned what it is to love a woman...your happiness is more important to me than my own. And I guess that is what it is all about....

  “I will not be around much longer.....and when I am gone, all I can hope is that you will remember me and remember that I loved you as much as I could....”

  I glanced at Judy for a moment, then toward the jury, with particular attention to the women.

  “He never signed it, but handwriting analysis proves it was written by Ms. Johansen’s husband.”

  I looked back at Judy and saw what I expected to see. I walked over to the jury box. One woman was in her 60s. She was a retired teacher. Her husband had died of cancer five years before.

  “There are tears in your eyes, Mrs. Cochrane. You didn’t even know the victim.”

  She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  I could not talk to her, but I could talk at her.

  “When Mrs. Cochrane was being questioned prior to being selected for this jury, I remember asking her if her husband had been a romantic man. What type of marriage she had had, since the question of Mrs. Johansen’s marriage would play a critical part in this trial.

  “I remember very distinctly her telling me that her husband, Steve, was a very unemotional man. The kind of man who would and did buy her a vacuum cleaner for their anniversary one year. But-“

  And here I looked into her eyes and then cast a glance back at Lew and couldn’t keep my poker face.

  “But I remember, Mrs. Cochrane telling me, ‘I know he loves me, even if he do
esn’t show it a lot.’ And if I remember correctly, there were tears in her eyes as she said those words.”

  I glanced down the line of jurors, searching their faces. The women’s eyes were bright, the men looking down the way men do when they’re faced with emotional scenes.

  I pointed to Judy Johansen and every juror followed my direction. She stared at them like a deer caught in a car’s headlights in the night. They were open wide and she was trying to look stressed, but....

  “Mrs. Cochrane didn’t even know Judy Johansen’s husband, but his words roused her emotions. Because she has loved a man, and known what it was to love a man.

  “Look at Mrs. Johansen. All of you look at Mrs. Johansen. I think she’s a pretty good actress but I’ll rely on your judgment of human nature gained through your own lives. Do you see even the faintest shred of sadness, of love in her eyes?

  “I could have been reading a grocery list. But these were the words of her husband, a man she says she loved, a man she lived with for years, a man who made her wealthy. He’s been gone a year. But do you completely lose all feeling for someone you loved....even someone you liked… in a year’s time?”

  I walked back to where she sat with Lew and for the first time I saw a shred of doubt in his eyes. And chagrin. He hadn’t paid that much attention to the undelivered birthday card, because he never expected me to use it this way. And he hadn’t picked up on the questions to Mrs. Cochrane and other female jurors.

  “I’ve laid out the state case and Mr. Walters has stressed the doubts you should have about the state case. But remember, as I said, to convict Ms. Johansen of murder, you don’t’ have to eliminate ANY doubt, just reasonable doubt. And the key to deciding her guilt is, I put to you, what was in her heart when she made that ‘mistake’ with his medication.

  “If you believe that she loved her husband and her mistake could have been a mistake, you should acquit her. If you believe that she was a greedy, money hungry opportunist who never loved her husband, I think the facts we’ve presented more than justify a conviction of first degree murder.”

  I acted like I was going to step away, then turned back toward her and leaned in toward her. She didn’t retreat.

  “I think Clark Carroll was happy to die, Judy. I think in his last moments when the pain hit him, he knew what you had done. He already knew about your affair, and despite ‘just being a grocer’ he knew what the pain meant. I think he loved you. And I think when he knew how you felt about him.... “

  I deliberately walked away from her without looking back.

  Tuesday, August 30, 2005 -- 1 P.M.

  I was in the office talking to a cop in Ocala about the case of the man who had beaten his pregnant ex-wife to death and was probably going to get away with it when Cheryl stuck her head in the door. She looked terrible, flushed, nose running, eyes weeping.

  “They just called, Bill. They’re got a verdict in the Judy Johansen case.”

  “Call Heather McDonald and tell her to get to the courtroom and then get somebody to cover for you and go the hell home before you infect everybody in the office. Really, Cheryl, you look like death warmed over. Get out of here, get in bed with some chicken soup and just call me every few days so I’ll know you’re still alive.”

  “You’re a sweetheart, Bill. I didn’t know you cared.”

  “It would take me too much time and trouble to train a replacement.”

  But she smiled as she left my office.

  I grabbed a briefcase and was out the door. The jury had had the case for five days. The judge had kept them deliberating all through the weekend without letting them go home. It made for some unhappy jurors but Pizarro was a stern old bird. He just told them to keep hashing it out until they came up with a verdict.

  It had been a good weekend. I’d gone over to the Bascombs and seen both Kathy and Roy while visiting Clarice and my new niece and nephew. They seemed like good kids. Kelly had come by and she looked so much like her mother it hurt to look at her. BJ had even been driven up by mom and Charles.

  I was expecting things to be tense, but Debbie stayed out of the way. Clint Abbott had come by and taken her out before I’d been there more than a few minutes. When she came out of her old room after talking with Clarice I didn’t think she looked good. Pale, she gave me strange looks but I tried to ignore her.

  When Clint came by we shook hands and were able to talk. Debbie’s parents seemed to actually like him, or at least they were warming up to him in a way they never did to Doug.

  It still felt strange, but we were almost able to slip around each other like we were long lost in-laws.

  And now I was walking into Pizarro’s courtroom. Lew was already there. I was pretty sure he paid off somebody on Pizarro’s staff to always give him a heads up on things like this.

  He walked over to me and held his hand out.

  “It was a good fight, old man. I’m sorry I had to beat you down. No hard feelings.”

  He couldn’t help grinning at the end.

  “Just try not to cry when you lose, kid.”

  Heather walked in behind me and touched me on the arm. I swung around. How she could get hotter, I’ll never know. But she wore a light blue blouse over tight jeans and....She had to be the sexiest grandmother that ever walked the earth.

  Lew noticed my look and said seriously, “Sergeant McDonald, I’m sorry I had to rough you up in court. It was just business.”

  He held his hand out and she ignored it.

  “I don’t know why you’d want to shake hands with a slut who screws men to get their testimony?”

  He backed up a bit.

  “It’s all part of the game, Sergeant. Nothing personal.”

  She stared through him.

  “I took it personally.”

  I touched her on the shoulder.

  “You may not believe it now, Heather, but he’s a nice guy. I wouldn’t be his friend if he wasn’t.”

  “I don’t see how the hell you could be, but he sure as hell isn’t mine.”

  Lew pretended to shiver, then shrugged and walked away.

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “He has his moments, but he’s had my back when I needed him, Heather.”

  She laid one soft hand on my waist.

  “I still think he’s an asshole, but for your sake I won’t spit in his eye.”

  We were surrounded by incoming reporters, attorneys, camera crews hustling in from outside, but standing there with her hand on my waist, it felt like we were alone. I had to turn away because I was afraid I was going to embarrass myself. I put my hand on her elbow and said as professionally as I could, “Have a seat up front Heather. The judge will be in in a minute.”

  As she turned away from me with that ass twitching in those tight jeans I saw Debbie walking in the courtroom. We exchanged glances and I couldn’t help it. I tried not to. Hand to God, I tried not to. But I couldn’t help smirking.

  Within five minutes the courtroom was packed, reporters had notepads and a pool representative of the media who’d gotten the role of televising it for everybody, had a hand-held video camera going. Judy came in and stood briefly at the desk talking with Lew. Then she looked over at me. We smiled at each other like old friends, for different reasons I’m sure.

  Then the jury was back and everybody was staring at the short, heavyset male mechanic who had been chosen jury foreman. The judge asked if they’d reached a verdict and when the foreman said they had, he asked the foreman to stand up and face Judy.

  I watched his lips moving before the words actually penetrated. Then I was watching Judy’s face as they hit. And Lew’s face.

  “...guilty of murder in the first degree....”

  I’d never seen it before, but reporters actually raced out of the courtroom. Judy’s 40-ish son was on his feet yelling at the jury, several extra bailiffs had come toward the spectator section. And Heather was in my arms. She had come around the desk and before I could move was hugging me. Which led to
a kiss.

  “We did it, Bill, we did it. We nailed her.”

  I tried to rev back on my emotions, but God, it felt good. I looked at Judy Johansen for a moment and it was like we were the only two people in the room. I wondered what it would be like to have the world by the tail one moment, and be in Hell the next. I don’t know that I’d ever seen despair in a human being’s eyes, but I did now.

  I couldn’t say I felt happiness, but I felt satisfaction. For just a moment the world made sense, the scales balanced.

  I sank back in my chair with Heather squatting down beside me, holding my hand. Pizarro ordered Judy taken into custody, thanked the jurors and released them. People milled around for awhile. Lew spoke to Judy before she was taken away, with his hand on her shoulder, then talked to her son after bailiffs took her. Then he sat down too.

  When I looked over at the spectator section, Debbie was gone.

  Then Lew was standing in front of me. He just shook his head.

  “God damned, Bill. God damned. I really didn’t think you could do it.”

  “Sometimes you get the bear and sometimes...”

  “Remind me never to play poker with you, Bill. You’re getting help from a higher power.”

  He walked away and then came back.

  “I had to be sympathetic, but honestly, Bill, she was guilty as sin. She killed him. And we both know it. So the good guys won.”

  I walked out of the courtroom with Heather beside me. Local, national and a couple of international television crews were waiting for me. I was going to talk to Celestial Madonna, when I felt a sudden pressure on my hand. I looked over and Heather was squeezing my hand.

  “Oh, don’t you remember, Mr. Maitland, we had that....debriefing we needed to get to. Before you do any interviews.”

  I gave Celestial a quick smile and said, “I’ll be back in ten to fifteen minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

  We barely made it to the State Attorney’s floor. It was lunchtime and there were a half dozen SAs out. I knew that Raul Castro was out with the same flu that had probably claimed Cheryl. I stepped into his office, closed the door and locked it behind me.