From a Single Seed: A Novel

by Teri Ames

  AS HIS father pulled the car into their driveway, Keenan’s mother reminded him that his grandparents would be arriving soon for his birthday dinner.

  “The big two-oh,” she said and laughed.

  Keenan didn’t respond. He knew she was just trying to keep things normal, but they weren’t, and probably never would be again. As soon as the car stopped moving, he jumped out, not even bothering to shut the car door, and ran straight for the pond. He stripped his shirt, tossed it on the ground, kicked off his shoes, and dove in. He hovered near the bottom, eyes open but not seeing much in the murky water, and relished the painfully numbing cold. Fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years. Why did Shannon have to die? He didn’t want to breathe ever again.

  BARRY WAS at his desk at seven o’clock that evening when Marcy walked in.

  “You scared me,” Barry said. “I thought you left hours ago.”

  “I did. But I was driving by and saw the lights on. What are you still doing here on a Friday night?”

  “I’m working on the Brody trial.”

  Marcy crossed her arms. “When was the last time you had dinner with Sam?”

  “He doesn’t care whether I come home for dinner.”

  “I bet he cares that you never come home for dinner.”

  “He’s old enough to take care of himself.”

  “He is.”

  “So why are you pestering me?”

  “His mother left you because you didn’t pay enough attention to her. You’re smart enough to learn from your mistakes.”

  If anyone else talked to him that way, he’d be pissed. But Marcy was not just his secretary, she was a trusted friend and sometimes confidante. And she was rarely wrong. So he shrugged. “He’s twenty-four. He doesn’t want his father breathing down his neck. He wants a roof over his head and a little independence.”

  “You’re right, but he may be getting more independence than he should right now.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “Pete said he saw Sam at Mr. K’s Place last night.”

  “Was he drinking?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him. And make sure he’s taking his meds.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  Marcy’s face softened and she sat down in his visitor chair. “This Brody case has you worked up, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. There’s something about Keenan that reminds me of Sam a few years ago. Before his diagnosis.”

  “They’re both smart, good-looking. Is there something else?”

  “I can’t put a finger on it. It’s this potential, an energy that radiates, but hasn’t found a direction yet. It’s how I used to see Sam before. Now it’s like all Sam’s energy turned inward and is burning itself out. I’d hate to see that happen to Keenan. And it will if he’s convicted.”

  “You can only do your best.”

  “I’m trying, but my secretary wants me to go home.”

  Marcy stood. “Don’t give up on your own son yet.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you’ve been slashing your billings on the Brody case.”

  “It’s like a puzzle. I can’t bill for the time I spend just shuffling the pieces around.”

  “Go home, Barry.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Chapter 43

  Wednesday, August 20, 2014

  AS HOPED, the courtroom was bare of spectators, leaving Barry and Fred alone in the courtroom with Judge Whippet and his clerk. The judge was flipping through papers on the bench.

  “My notes say we’re here to tackle motions in limine and other housekeeping matters,” the judge said.

  Barry got to his feet.

  “You have something to say already, Mr. Densmore?” the judge said.

  “Actually, Your Honor, I’m wondering if Your Honor will be the judge presiding over this trial.”

  “Ah. I see your concern. It’s true that I’m getting reassigned to Chittenden County in September. However, I’ve decided to stay and preside over this trial. I’ve been with it since the beginning, so I’d like to see it through.”

  At least they didn’t have to worry about the judge. The rumor was that Judge Jenkins would be returning in September. Jenkins clearly had a pro-prosecution bent. He had only been on the bench for a few years, and the last time he had been in Adams County, Barry had not been impressed.

  “Before we get started, any chance of a plea deal in this case?”

  Fred answered first. “We’ve given the defense our best offer. We can’t go lower for a crime of this magnitude.”

  “My client is innocent. Its hard to stomach jail time for a crime you didn’t commit.”

  “Sounds like an impasse,” the judge said. Both attorneys nodded.

  The judge decided to start with Barry’s three pretrial motions. The first was routine and Barry expected no objection from Fred.

  “I’d like an order prohibiting the state and its witnesses from referring to Shannon Dawson as a ‘victim,’” Barry said when called upon.

  “Mr. Dutton?” the judge said.

  “I object,” Fred said. “Shannon Dawson is dead. She had to be a victim of something to end up that way. It puts an undue burden on the state to have to censor all the witnesses.”

  Really? He was opposing a routine motion? Barry looked over at Fred, who had sat back down without looking at Barry as he stood. “My problem with it is that if we label her a victim, the jurors may be predisposed to think she was the victim of an assault and a homicide. It’s our position that she was neither and the use of the term ‘victim’ may bias the jurors against my client. I submit that the burden on the state is minimal compared to the potential prejudice to my client.”

  The judge nodded. “I’ll grant that motion. What’s next?”

  Barry continued. “We also have a motion to prevent the state from submitting evidence of text messages and Facebook group chats among Shannon Dawson and her friends regarding her love life, especially ones in the week prior to her disappearance.”

  “What’s the basis for the motion?”

  “First, they’re irrelevant. Second, they’re hearsay.”

  “Okay. What do you say, Mr. Dutton?”

  “Those messages are hardly irrelevant. They establish a clear motive for homicide. They show that Shannon was not sure if she wanted to continue her relationship with the defendant. And for that reason, they fall squarely within the state-of-mind exception to the hearsay rule.”

  “Not all those messages meet the exception. And there’s another problem with them. They may show how Shannon was feeling, but they don’t show that she ever communicated those feelings to my client. Without that link, her feelings are irrelevant and obviously highly prejudicial to my client.”

  “We do have evidence that she told the defendant. I believe there were two witnesses who testified in depositions that Shannon intended to tell Keenan about her relationship with Jake prior to the winter break.”

  “That’s even more circumstantial.”

  The judge was rubbing his jaw. “It cuts both ways. The fact that she was going to tell him is proof that she had not yet told him. I see that you’ve both cited caselaw in your memoranda. I want to review those cases. I also want to look through those messages. What else do we have, Mr. Densmore?”

  “I want to make sure the prosecution makes no mention of most of my client’s statements to Officer Shores. They’re almost all hearsay.”

  “Some of them are admissions,” Fred said. “We all know there’s a hearsay exception for those.”

  “It’s our position that my client never admitted to anything of consequence,” Barry said.

  “He admitted that he went to the party to find Shannon,” Fred said.

  “He did,” Barry agreed.

  “He admitted to driving her car back to campus,” Fred said.

  “That’s true.”

  “He admitted to knowing she was dead.�
�

  “No, he didn’t. He expressed his concern. There’s a big difference.”

  The judge looked over the top of his reading glasses at the attorneys. “Obviously, I need to review the referenced transcripts as well. I’ll issue a written decision.”

  FRED AVOIDED looking at Barry as he hastily gathered his papers and exited the courtroom. Barry was probably pissed at him. The problem was that Barry was used to Fred giving in to him. But it was one thing to cut him some slack on a misdemeanor plea deal. This was a homicide case and Barry was clearly on the wrong side of it. After all the preparation he had done for trial, Fred had no doubt. He probably hadn’t wanted to see it at first because he didn’t want to have to deal with a high profile trial. Against one of his oldest friends.

  But Fred hadn’t forgotten how to play hardball, so Barry had better get used to it.

  KEENAN FINISHED stacking the fourth cord of firewood at his grandparent’s house just as his brother, Liam, showed up.

  “Your timing is impeccable as always,” Keenan said.

  “I was doing you a favor.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You need to stay strong for hockey next year.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious. You’ve got to stay positive.”

  Keenan wiped the sweat from his eyes and slumped against the side of the woodshed. “I’ve been thinking maybe I should take the plea deal. I’d be out in six years. My lawyer says I can change my mind up until the trial starts.”

  “But you didn’t kill her.”

  “Of course not. But six years is a shitload less than fifteen.”

  “That’s true. But you have to have faith that the system works.”

  “I don’t have faith in much of anything right now,” Keenan said.

  Chapter 44

  Friday December 20, 2013

  SHANNON WALKED out of the cell biology final and tried to breathe. It was easier if she just focused on breathing, because when she let herself think, she felt like a pinball in one of those old-fashioned machines, pinging up and down, side to side, out of control. One minute she was just glad it was over and that a much-needed break was on the horizon. The next minute she was sure she had failed all the exams. Her parents would be so disappointed. But then she would be free of their expectations. Maybe she’d be happier if she failed her classes and had to change majors. Unfortunately, no emotion seemed to last more than a few seconds. She felt like she was going crazy. What she needed was to let off steam.

  Fortunately, there was open ice time from two o’clock to five o’clock that afternoon. Shannon skated hard for nearly two hours. She thought only about the ice, her skates, and the technique that had been drilled into her during the years of competition. It was an effective meditation that calmed her mind. She was drenched in sweat when she got off the ice, but she had temporarily slain the demons of self-doubt

  Until she remembered that her love life was a mess. She’d been putting it off for weeks and now she needed to deal with it. Later. But soon.

  She had a couple of texts and a voicemail from her mom, but Shannon didn’t feel like telling her mom about the exam. Her mom would just say, “You always worry too much about your grades, and you always do fine.” Well, maybe not this time. She sent her mom a text explaining that she was meeting friends for the evening and that she would be on the plane the next day.

  After she showered, Shannon considered stopping at the dining hall to eat, but she couldn’t find anyone at her dorm who hadn’t already eaten, and she wasn’t in the mood to eat alone. She grabbed a PowerBar and got a bottle of orange juice out of her room fridge. Maybe Jenna and Greta would be up for ordering pizza later.

  When she got to Jenna’s room, there was already a party in progress. Jenna handed her a wine cooler from the room fridge.

  “Where’d you get this?”

  “My friend Holly on the second floor has a fake ID. Don’t you want it?”

  “Sure, why not? Just one. I earned it this week.”

  “We all did,” Greta said, then added, “Cheers!” Shannon clinked bottles with her friends, then unscrewed the cap on the wine cooler and took a sip. It was sweet and didn’t even taste alcoholic. It probably wasn’t all that strong.

  Shannon drank her wine cooler quickly, mostly because she was still dehydrated from her marathon skating session. About halfway through it, she started to feel more relaxed. Wow, what a week.

  When Jenna handed her a second wine cooler, Shannon didn’t even think. She opened it and started sipping. Greta was telling her friends about her family’s beach house in Maine. “It’s the coolest place ever. I want to take you guys there.”

  Shannon smiled. “We should definitely go sometime. I love you guys. I can’t even believe I didn’t know you guys a few months ago. I feel like I know you so much better than my high school friends.”

  “To all my new best friends,” Greta shouted, raising her wine cooler.

  There was a chorus of hollers and much clinking of glass bottles. Shannon beckoned Greta and Jenna so she could take a group selfie with her phone. “Hide your bottles,” she said before pushing the virtual button.

  “That’s a great picture,” Jenna said when Shannon held up the phone.

  “I’ll post it on Facebook, so you can have a copy,” Shannon said. She clicked the Facebook icon and posted it with the caption, “Chillin’ after a long week of finals.”

  Greta got out her phone. “I’m adding a comment.”

  A few seconds later, Shannon smiled as she read it aloud from her phone. “Good friends always mean good times.”

  Shannon’s phone rang in her hand. It was Keenan. Time to face the music.

  Chapter 45

  Monday, September 1, 2014

  CLASSES HAD not yet started at the college, but with a week and a half to go until trial, Keenan and his parents were settling into the Maple Tree Manor Motel so they could have daily meetings with Barry. They were able to get two rooms at the monthly rate of $600 each on the condition that maid service would be weekly. The rooms were dark and a little musty, but clean. Keenan was staying in one, and his parents were in the other. His sisters and grandparents would be joining them once the trial started. His brother had gone off to vet school a week earlier. Keenan hoped the trial wouldn’t distract Liam from his studies. His own studies seemed trivial, almost irrelevant. He would have opted to take the semester off if he could have done it without giving up the entire hockey season.

  It made sense to be in Middleton Falls, available for meetings, but in some ways there was too much down time. Too much time to think about what was coming, how many ways his family would be even more damaged.

  Keenan and his parents went to Barry’s office the first afternoon.

  “There’s good news and bad news,” Barry said.

  “I always like to hear the good first,” said Keenan.

  “Okay, we just got a ruling. The judge ruled that most of what you said in your interviews with Officer Shores can be kept out of evidence. It was legally the right call, and it helps to have it decided up front.”

  His parents were nodding. Keenan wasn’t sure how the ruling helped, but Barry seemed pleased, so he forced himself relax a little.

  “What’s the bad news?” his dad said.

  “The judge is allowing Officer Shores to testify that Keenan said, ‘She’s dead,’ during his interview at your house. The judge also decided that Shannon’s Facebook chat messages will be admissible. I’ll still object to their admissibility at trial in case there’s an appeal.”

  Barry seemed almost academic about it, which rubbed Keenan the wrong way. “You mean in case I’m convicted,” he said. He needed to remind Barry of the stakes.

  “We have to plan for that possibility,” Barry said.

  “How much does that ruling hurt us?” his dad said.

  “It’s hard to say. The messages are tangible evidence of a motive. Evidence that the jury will be able to t
ake into the deliberation room. I hate giving them something so concrete. But, as the judge pointed out, the messages are also proof that less than a week before the night in question, Shannon was still struggling with whether to tell Keenan the whole truth. Since the messages are coming into evidence, I’ll try to hammer that home.”

  “So, it all comes down to spin,” Keenan said.

  Barry shrugged. “There’s actually another issue we need to discuss today. We need to decide if you’re going to testify. I strongly advise against it, but I recognize that it’s your call to make.”

  “Can’t we wait and see how the trial goes?” his dad said.

  “That’s a possibility.” Barry looked at Keenan. “But, if you’re certain that you won’t testify, I can spend some time at jury draw making sure the jurors don’t hold it against you.”

  “What do you mean?” his mom said.

  “Well, if I know for sure that a client isn’t going to testify, I like to talk to the jurors about that right from the beginning. During voir dire, I can ask if any of them would have a hard time acquitting someone who did not testify in their own defense. I can talk about Constitutional rights and then ask the judge to strike for cause anyone who thinks you should have to testify.”

  “Can’t you do that even if he decides to testify?” his mom said.

  “I could.” Barry was looking at Keenan. “But if I spend a lot of time talking to the jurors about your right to not testify and then you to decide to testify, they may hold it against us. It might even be subconscious. They could resent the fact that we wasted their time with it. They could also think that you’re desperate, that you weren’t planning to testify, but that you decided you needed to because the state’s case was stronger than you expected.”

  “I want to testify.” Keenan knew he could be convincing, convince them.

  “I know you’ve told me that several times, but I was hoping that now that the trial is upon us, you’d reconsider.”

  “Explain to us the disadvantages of testifying,” his mom said.

  “First off, the research shows that defendants are less likely to be convicted if they don’t testify. The theory is that, even though the judge explains that the burden is on the state to prove the charges, whenever a defendant testifies, the jurors subconsciously shift the burden back to the defense.”