From a Single Seed: A Novel

by Teri Ames

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away from you.”

  “You said you had something to tell me. I’m going crazy. I just want to know what it is.”

  “I can’t deal with this right now.” She stumbled as she walked down the back stairs and onto the lawn. He wanted to follow her, but if she wanted space, he should give it to her. He wished he knew what had changed since Thanksgiving. Things had been going so well before that.

  Keenan found an Adirondack chair with peeling yellow paint up against the back of the house and sank into it. He didn’t feel like going inside. It’s hard being the only sober person in a group of partyers. He didn’t feel like sitting on this deck all night either. He’d wait a few minutes and see if Shannon came back. Maybe he could give her a ride home. Her behavior tonight was completely out of character. It was the first time he had seen her drunk in the two months he had known her. As far as he knew, she didn’t drink.

  As long as he had her keys, she couldn’t drive. At least he would be able to sleep better tonight knowing that. He waited until he started feeling chilled. Then, he walked through the house looking for Shannon’s friends. When he couldn’t find anyone he recognized, he went out front and spotted Shannon’s car a block and a half away. He drove it back to the parking area near her dorm where she usually parked. He considered dropping off her keys at her dorm, but he wanted to see her before she left. She didn’t need a key to get into her dorm room which had an electronic keypad. The car keys would give him an excuse to see her in the morning.

  Chapter 52

  Monday, September 15, 2014

  IT HAD been the longest weekend of Keenan’s life. The Brodys had spent it in their motel rooms. The TV had perpetually chattered in his parents’ room, filling the void of conversation, but attracting nobody’s attention. His mother had seemed intent on playing solitaire on her iPad, but studied the moves much longer than warranted. Keenan frequently caught her rubbing the corners of her eyes in an ill-disguised attempt to hide her tears. His father had pretended to read some veterinary journals, but turned the pages too infrequently to be convincing.

  Fifteen years would be a very long time. And everyone knew it.

  Nobody felt like going out to eat. They picked up some Subway sandwiches for lunch on Saturday, and ended up finishing them for dinner.

  Keenan tried to study the transcripts that Barry had given him, but the words swam on the page. Was this how it felt to be dyslexic?

  The meeting with Barry on Saturday afternoon was the main event of the day, but when they arrived, Barry had little to do with them. He was too busy getting ready for trial. He told them what he had done, what he still planned to do. They found themselves back in their dreary motel rooms a short while later.

  On Sunday morning Keenan and his dad walked to the convenience store for coffee and the papers. Keenan’s upcoming trial was the front-page story in the Burlington paper. Keenan wondered how something that hadn’t yet happened could be big news. It turned out that the article was a recap of everything that had already been published.

  Grandma Helene and Grandpa Armand arrived with Keenan’s sisters on Sunday afternoon. It helped to have them there, made the time pass a little more quickly. But it also reminded Keenan that it might be years before the family would be together again.

  Liam called on Sunday night. Keenan walked circles in the parking lot while he filled his brother in.

  “I wish I could be there for you,” Liam said.

  “It’s enough that you called. You worked hard to get into vet school. I don’t want this mess to screw up your career. Mom and Dad are so proud of you.”

  After he hung up, Keenan had to do a few more laps while he regained his composure. He’d hoped his family couldn’t tell he’d been crying when he reentered the motel room.

  Keenan was in his place next to Barry on Monday morning when the judge strode into the courtroom, his black robe billowing.

  “This is the case of State versus Keenan Brody,” the clerk announced.

  “Are the parties ready to proceed?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Both attorneys answered simultaneously.

  “Then, please remain standing while we bring in the jury.” The judge nodded toward the clerk who opened the door to the deliberation room.

  As the jurors filed in, Keenan studied the twelve people that would decide his fate. Did he trust them? He didn’t have any choice. How had his entire future been put in their hands? That was the kicker. He just didn’t understand how he had come to be sitting in this courtroom wondering if next week he would be back in class or sitting in a jail cell.

  The jurors were seated. Keenan tried to listen as the judge explained the trial to them.

  Manslaughter. The word jumped out from the drone. It was such a violent-sounding word. The air in the courtroom felt hot and thick, too heavy to breathe. He wished he could loosen the tie his attorney had advised him to wear. The one he usually wore only for hockey awards ceremonies.

  The judge was telling the jurors not to look things up on the internet, that they could only consider what they heard in court. The instructions were seemingly exhaustive. Exhausting. Keenan wanted it to be over and he didn’t at the same time. He hated sitting there, but at least, while he did, there was still hope. When it was over, there wouldn’t be.

  Keenan forced himself to make eye contact with the jurors. He tried to telepath “Innocent” to each and every one. He liked the gray-haired woman at the end of the second row. She had looked kindly at him while Barry questioned the jury. Perhaps he reminded her of her grandson. Perhaps that would be enough to preserve his freedom.

  The judge finished speaking and the prosecutor rose. He walked to the podium that was facing the jurors, but didn’t stand behind it. Instead, he stood beside it and started speaking to each juror as if they were in his living room. Fred Dutton looked as if he had been speaking to jurors for decades.

  FRED BREATHED deeply, composing himself. He was aware that he was being filmed by the television cameras. He forced himself to speak slowly, deliberately.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. By all accounts, Shannon Dawson was a vibrant young woman with a bright future. In high school, she was an A student, which earned her a place in the Masterson College Class of 2017. She was an accomplished figure skater, who was ranked highly at the Southwest Pacific Figure Skating Championships in 2010 and 2011. She wanted to be a doctor, specializing in sports medicine. She came to our community to get an education.

  “On April fifth of this year, the police pulled the body of eighteen-year-old Shannon Dawson out of Moose Creek. It ended nearly four months of torture for her parents who had no idea what had happened to their daughter. And it began a lifetime of agony. An unspeakable agony––the loss of an only child.” Here Fred paused, giving the jury a chance to feel the pain of the parents’ loss, and looked toward Shannon’s parents, who were seated in the front row, somber and pallid. He knew that his last statement had technically violated the prohibition against mentioning family and half-expected Barry to object. When Barry didn’t, he assumed Barry was planning to take some liberties with his own opening. Fred moved casually to the other side of the podium.

  “During that four months, the police were busy looking for Shannon and piecing together the details of her last hours. What they learned was that Shannon had finished her last final exam on Friday and had gotten together with her friends, to celebrate a little, say goodbye for the winter break. But her night with her friends was interrupted by the defendant, who was in a jealous rage. He tracked her down because he wanted to confront her. You see, on the night of Shannon’s death, the defendant, Keenan Brody, had learned something about Shannon that drove him crazy. He had learned that the young woman he adored had been intimate with another man.

  “Jealousy is a powerful emotion. This is not the first time in history a man has been driven to homicide by sexual jealousy, nor will it likely be the l
ast. And the defendant’s jealous rage was fueled by the fact that the other man was Shannon’s high-school boyfriend that she had seen during the Thanksgiving break. Not only had she cheated on the defendant, but she was going home to California for a month where she could see the other guy every day.

  “It was just too much. The defendant lost control.

  “As you will see, there was no witness to Shannon’s death. And there is no forensic evidence directly proving that the defendant was the perpetrator. The defendant was too careful for that. But you can still hold him accountable for his crime. Because there were witnesses to his jealous rage that night. They saw the defendant assault Shannon. He grabbed her. He hit her.

  “And there’s plenty of circumstantial evidence to help you piece together what happened afterward. What happened is this. On December twentieth of last year, the defendant tracked down Shannon Dawson where she was at a party with her friends, and he confronted her. They argued. He grabbed her and struck her. She left the party and he followed her. They argued some more, and he killed her.

  “Nobody is suggesting that he planned it. But he just couldn’t control his jealous rage. He punched her, and she fell, hitting her head on something hard, probably a rock. The medical examiner will explain how we know that.” Fred paused and nodded sagely.

  “Now, the defendant is a smart kid. When he realized what he had done, he knew that he needed to cover it up. And what better way to wash away any evidence than with water? He took Shannon’s limp body and carried it to her car. He took her keys from her pocket and drove her to Moose Creek. Then, when nobody was around, he dumped her in the river.

  “Then, he drove her car back to her dorm and went home for Christmas. He spent Christmas with his family while the Dawsons searched for their daughter.” Fred paused again for effect and glanced toward the Dawsons, who unwittingly played their role perfectly by visibly tensing. After three beats, he resumed his casual pacing in front of the jury, attempting eye contact with every juror.

  “Meanwhile, Shannon’s body got washed downstream until it lodged under a felled tree. It stayed there. The body of Olivia and Jack’s daughter stayed in the icy water until the ice went out in April and she was discovered by a group of kayakers.

  “The defendant might have gotten away with what he did if the police hadn’t found Shannon’s keys in his dorm room. And his prints on the dashboard of her car. But they did, and when they did, the defendant had an explanation for them. And it was a pretty good one.

  “Unfortunately, it wasn’t until after the police had found the keys and he knew they would find his prints that he came up with his explanation. And that is why it doesn’t ring true.

  “During this trial, you will likely see the face of a composed young man with a bright future. Well, ladies and gentlemen, it’s not his only face and it’s not the face he was wearing when he killed Shannon Dawson in a fit of jealous rage.

  “Thank you.”

  Fred sat down.

  BARRY KNEW that the research showed that eighty to ninety percent of all jurors come to a decision during or immediately after opening statements. He also knew that Fred Dutton had just delivered a powerful opening. Barry could see that the jurors were mesmerized by Fred’s recitation of the facts. He had considered objecting to the beginning of Fred’s opening, but didn’t want to appear antagonistic so early in the trial. Now, he had his work cut out for him.

  Even after thirty years, he was always nervous on the first day of trial. The worst part was waiting through the other side’s opening. Once he started talking, he knew he would be okay. His nervousness would abate and he would appear like the shark everybody judged him to be.

  Showtime. He rose and casually walked to stand in front of the jury.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We’re here today because there’s been a tragedy. A beautiful, precious young woman is dead from a tragic accident. Our hearts go out to her family.” Barry paused respectfully and looked at Shannon’s parents.

  “Whenever something tragic happens, people tend to look for someone to blame. It’s only natural. And that’s exactly what the police did when Shannon Dawson went missing at the end of last year. They looked for someone to blame.

  “Unfortunately for my client, they didn’t have to look far because there was an obvious choice––the young man on campus that Shannon had been dating. Keenan Brody. But, as you will learn from the testimony you will hear, the problem with thinking you know the answers is that you frequently ask the wrong questions. Or at least ask them the wrong way.

  “And sometimes there is nobody to blame.

  “If Keenan Brody had been there when Shannon died, he might have been able to save her. But sadly, he wasn’t.

  “In fact, he had tried earlier in the evening to protect her, to keep her from driving while intoxicated. Because, on the night she died, Shannon Dawson was intoxicated, and not just a little bit.

  “When Keenan saw Shannon that night, he could tell she was drunk. She was talking about taking a road trip. He was worried about her. So, he did what any responsible person would do in his circumstances. He took her keys.

  “And Shannon did what almost any drunk person does when someone tries to take their keys. She got angry with him. They argued about the keys and Keenan finally got them from her. He didn’t hit her. He didn’t grab her. He didn’t assault her in any way. He just took the keys.

  “Mr. Dutton told you there were witnesses to an assault. As you will learn, the witnesses got it wrong. They didn’t get it wrong at first. In fact, in the first few days, even weeks, after Shannon’s disappearance, nobody reported an assault. The witnesses got it wrong later, after someone suggested to them that Keenan might be responsible for Shannon’s disappearance and then the police painted a picture for them with the way they asked questions. When you hear from those witnesses, you may be convinced that they are telling the truth. Because at this point, they most likely believe it’s the truth. But what they really saw was an act of caring, perhaps even chivalry. If they even witnessed anything at all. Keenan didn’t assault Shannon. He just took the keys.

  “Mr. Dutton talked to you about circumstantial evidence because sometimes that’s all there is. But the problem with circumstantial evidence is that it frequently cuts more than one way. We’ll show you that the circumstantial evidence actually supports the facts we’ve outlined for you today. After Keenan took Shannon’s keys, he committed another act of chivalry. He drove her car back to the dorm for her.

  “Because that’s the kind of guy Keenan is. He’s a Vermonter, born and raised in the Northeast Kingdom. His father is a veterinarian. His mother runs a small business. He has two younger sisters and an older brother. Like Shannon, he was an honors student in high school and an athlete. He is twenty years old and just finished his sophomore year at Masterson College where he plays for the varsity hockey team. Most importantly, Keenan is a gentleman. Because that’s how he was raised.” Barry paused and looked at Keenan’s parents before finishing. He wanted the jury to know there was another family’s future on the line.

  “People do act out of character when they are jealous. And if Keenan had known that Shannon had cheated on him, he might have been jealous. He might have even been angry. But, he didn’t know. All he knew that night was that a girl he’d been dating, someone he cared about, was drunk and planning to drive. And he needed to stop her.

  “It’s tragic that Shannon Dawson is gone and her family has suffered the unthinkable.” Barry again looked toward Shannon’s parents. “But it would also be tragic to end the bright future of a young man who is guilty of nothing more than chivalry. Let’s not turn a tragic accident into a tragic mistake.”

  Chapter 53

  Monday, September 15, 2014

  KEENAN WATCHED as Barry made his way back to their table. For some reason, he felt better when his lawyer was beside him. Less exposed. He wondered what would happen next.

  “You may call your first witness
, Mr. Dutton,” the judge said.

  “The State calls Jake Miller.” The prosecutor remained standing in the silent room.

  A minute later, the rear door of the courtroom opened and a young man walked quickly to the witness box.

  Keenan studied Jake while he took the oath. So, this was the guy. The other guy Shannon had been sleeping with. His lawyer had told him that Jake was on the witness list, would undoubtedly be testifying. He knew that whatever emotion he felt at finally seeing the guy, he needed to keep it in check. Because while he was studying Jake, the jury was studying him. Keenan noted that, like himself, Jake was wearing a shirt and tie, but not a jacket. They were both over six feet tall and athletic looking. Jake was dark and handsome and well poised.

  The prosecutor began the questioning. “Where do you go to school?”

  “Columbia University.”

  “What year are you in?”

  “Sophomore.”

  “What are you studying?”

  “Architecture.”

  “Did you know Shannon Dawson?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How long did you know her?”

  “I met her during our first year of high school.”

  “You went to high school together?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us about Shannon.”

  “She was beautiful and smart and she had this great sense of humor.”

  “How did you feel about her?”

  “I loved her.”

  Keenan felt a pang of jealousy at the words. But, surprisingly, the overwhelming emotion was emptiness. They had both loved Shannon and she was gone.

  “What was your relationship with her?”

  “She was my girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend or ex-girlfriend?”

  “I still considered her my girlfriend.”

  “Can you explain that?”