“Yes.”
“Can you tell us what happened?”
Becky nodded. “My husband was attending a convention in Maryland. I dropped off our son at my parents’ house and visited Kent. We had sex. After we finished, he got dressed and I went into the bathroom. I just kind of stared at myself in the mirror, feeling terrible about myself. That’s how it always ended for me. Feeling guilt and shame and asking myself why I kept doing it.”
“Why did you keep doing it?” The question escaped Jessie’s lips before she could think. She had not planned to ask it, but part of her wanted to know.
“I don’t know. I guess I was looking for some … some kind of feeling. I should have been looking in my own home. In my own marriage. But seeing Kent was … easier, I guess. No need for serious talks. No need for real understanding. No need for … anything, really. He would just tell me how incredible I was and make love to me and then it would be over and I would leave. But I always felt empty when I left. Always.”
The testimony was more raw, more emotional than Jessie had expected. She glanced at the jurors and saw a mixture of reactions. Some looked sympathetic. Others looked ready to condemn the woman to burn at the stake. But do they believe her?
Becky let out a ragged breath, then straightened up in her chair. “I’m so sorry about the whole thing.”
“So you were in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, and feeling guilty. What happened when you came out of the bathroom?”
“The bedroom was empty. Kent had made the bed and gone downstairs. I knew he expected me to follow him. Usually, at this point, there would be some small talk, maybe a drink, and then he would give me a kiss and I would leave.”
“Did you go downstairs?” Jessie said.
Becky shook her head. “Not this time. I was about to, but I heard voices. I could tell someone else was in the house.”
“Can you be more specific? What did you hear exactly?”
“A man’s voice. Kent and another man were talking. At first they were calm, but then they both started to raise their voices. And then….” She shuddered.
“Yes?” Jessie prompted.
“I heard Kent scream.” Becky’s eyes seemed to unfocus as she relived the memory. Tears spilled from her eyes and streamed down her face.
“What did you do?”
“I—” A sob cut off her voice. She paused, regained her composure. “I could tell something bad was happening. Really bad. He was screaming—long, high-pitched screams. I looked around for something to defend myself with. Kent had a big, old-fashioned alarm clock, so I picked it up. I crept down the stairs, gripping the alarm clock, just hoping I could slip out of the house.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
“No.” The tears came harder now, smearing her makeup. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get back to my life. My son and my husband. My home. I’m so sorry.”
“What happened when you reached the bottom of the stairs?”
Becky hesitated.
“The jury needs to hear this, Ms. Runyan.”
Becky nodded resolutely. “I know.” She wiped her eyes and looked at the jurors. “I’m doing my best.”
“What did you find downstairs?” Jessie asked again.
“Kent was on the floor of his living room. A man was standing over him with a huge knife. And he was … cutting. Like you’d cut into a thick steak. Kent was screaming. Begging. There was blood everywhere. And … body parts. I saw all this and I just froze up. The alarm clock dropped out of my hand. It hit the floor and that’s when the man looked up and he saw me and for a second we just looked at each other.”
“What happened?”
“I ran. I knew where the back door was and I ran for it.”
“Did the man chase you?”
“I don’t know. It was like … I don’t know if it was adrenaline or what, but I had this burst of speed. I shot out of there. And I kept running until the house was behind me, the street was behind me. I got to my car—which I always parked away from the house, just to be safe—and I drove home.”
“And when you got home, did you call the police?”
“No. I didn’t tell anybody. I was afraid. Afraid for my marriage. Afraid of the man. I just wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that I had not seen anything.” Becky looked down at her hands.
Jessie took a deep breath. “Is the man you saw attack Kent Edley present in this courtroom right now, Becky?”
“Yes.” Becky pointed at Hazenberg. “That’s him.”
“Let the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant, Oscar Hazenberg.”
As Jessie returned to her seat at the prosecution table, she got a glimpse of Hazenberg’s face. The fury she’d seen before had intensified. Even in the safety of the courtroom, she felt a touch of fear.
The judge cleared her throat. “Does the defense wish to cross-examine this witness?”
Kristina Nolan rose from her seat at the defense table. “Yes, Your Honor.”
Jessie winced inwardly. She had hoped Hal Nolan would handle the cross. The jury might feel defensive of Becky Runyan if a man interrogated her. With Kristina asking the questions, that effect would be blunted.
Kristina Nolan approached the witness stand. Her usual pleasant smile was gone, replaced with a frown, as if she found the task of speaking with Becky Runyan distasteful.
“That was a harrowing story,” Kristina said. “Interesting that you didn’t tell it to the police, or anyone else, until a few days ago.”
Jessie rose. “Objection. That’s not a question. And Ms. Runyan already explained why she did not call the police.”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
“Sorry, Your Honor.” Kristina’s gaze remained fixed on Becky. “Let me ask you a question, then, Ms. Runyan. How did you explain your absences to your husband?”
“My … absences?”
“Well, you admit you met with Kent Edley frequently—sometimes several times a week—during an eight month timespan for these sex visits, right? So you must have had to lie to your husband frequently. How did you explain to him where you were?”
Becky’s eyes flashed toward Jessie. Jessie stood up again. “Objection, Your Honor. This isn’t relevant.”
“I’m exploring the witness’s credibility, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “I’ll allow it.” Turning to the witness, she said, “Ms. Runyan, answer the question.”
Just be forthright. Your honesty is all we have.
“I made up excuses,” Becky said. “Sometimes I told him I was meeting a friend. Sometimes I told him I was shopping.”
“Could he tell that you were lying?”
Jessie started to object, then hesitated. She sensed that Kristina Nolan was baiting her to object to every question, so that she would appear evasive to the jury, like she and Becky were trying to hide something from them. But the question was improper. She couldn’t let it go. She stood up.
“Objection, Your Honor. The witness cannot testify to what her husband knew or didn’t know.”
“Just tell us if you think your husband could tell you were lying,” Kristina said.
“She’s not a psychologist,” Jessie said. “She has no basis—”
“She’s his wife,” Kristina said flatly.
“Objection sustained,” the judge said. Then the judge turned to Becky and sighed. “How about this—just tell us if your husband ever accused you of not telling him the truth.”
“He never did,” Becky said. She looked miserable.
“You gave the same excuses to your parents, when they watched your son during the times you met Kent Edley for sex?” Kristina Nolan said.
Becky nodded. “Yes.”
“And did your parents, to borrow the judge’s phrasing, ever accuse you of not telling the truth?”
“No.”
“It sounds like you’re good at lying.”
“Objection.”
“Why sh
ould the jury believe anything you’re saying now?”
“Objection!”
“Goes to credibility, Your Honor,” Kristina said.
“I’m telling the truth,” Becky said.
The room went quiet, and her words hung in the air.
“So you claim.” Kristina glared at Becky for a moment, but said nothing more. Maybe she sensed that pushing further might backfire. “I have no further questions.”
Jessie watched the lawyer sit down. Then she glanced over at the jury. All of the men and women in the box were staring at Becky. Judging her. It was exactly what Becky had feared, exactly what had made her so reluctant to come forward. Would her marriage survive this?
“Redirect, Ms. Black?” the judge said.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Jessie stood up.
It doesn’t matter if they judge her. It doesn’t matter if they hate her. It only matters that they believe her.
“Ms. Runyan, do you have anything to gain by testifying here today?” Jessie said.
“No.”
“And do you have anything to lose?”
Kristina Nolan jumped up. “Objection.”
“Overruled, Ms. Nolan,” Judge Carabotta said. “You opened the door to this issue.”
“Please answer the question,” Jessie said. “By testifying here today, do you have anything to lose?”
Becky Runyan looked directly at the jury. “Everything.”
41
“Ms. Black,” Judge Carabotta said. “Is the Commonwealth ready to present its summation?”
The room quieted as the reporters, lawyers, and other spectators crowding the gallery stopped talking and faced the well of the courtroom. Jessie knew Leary was there, sitting in the back row. She’d also spotted Warren Williams, Emily Graham, and Toby Novak. Maxine Hazenberg was there, too, as well as Kent Edley’s parents and family. All of them were counting on her.
Jessie stood up. “Yes, Your Honor.”
After Becky Runyan’s explosive testimony, the trial had quickly wound down to its conclusion. It was now time to deliver closing arguments.
Jessie approached the jury box. This was her final opportunity to sway the jurors before they disappeared into the deliberation room to make their decision.
“I want to thank you again for your participation in this trial.” She made eye-contact with one juror, then another. “I know the timing is probably inconvenient. I know the subject matter is disturbing. And I know the responsibility is a heavy one. I appreciate your role here. The good news is we’re almost finished.”
The jurors watched her. Some of them nodded. Others looked more skeptical.
“Now that you have heard all of the evidence, it is time for you to decide whether the defendant is guilty of the crime with which he’s been charged. That crime, as you know, is first degree murder.”
She turned to look at Hazenberg, seated at the defense table with Hal and Kristina Nolan. Jessie kept her expression stern, accusatory.
“The defense is going to tell you that you shouldn’t find the defendant guilty. They are going to tell you that the Commonwealth failed to meet its burden of proving the defendant’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. They’re good lawyers and will probably be persuasive. But I ask you to question this assertion, and think hard about the evidence you’ve seen and heard at this trial.”
Jessie took a breath. Let it out. Several jurors leaned forward, interest—or at least curiosity—in their expressions.
She walked them through the elements of the Pennsylvania criminal statute, then reviewed the evidence she had presented. She could see some of them losing interest, others looking doubtful.
She stopped talking. Waited. All of the jurors looked at her.
“Let’s face it. You know and I know that the real issue here comes down to one question: Do you believe Becky Runyan?”
Now several of the jurors nodded their heads.
“Becky Runyan told you a harrowing, horrific story. She told you she witnessed a man with a big knife cutting and torturing a screaming Kent Edley. And she told you that man was the defendant, Oscar Hazenberg.
“If you believe Ms. Runyan’s testimony, then you must find Oscar Hazenberg guilty of first-degree murder.
“The defense attorneys don’t want you to believe her. So they are trying to focus your attention on the fact that she was unfaithful to her husband. That she was, in fact, cheating on him at the time she witnessed the murder. They want you to think, if this woman could lie to her husband, she can also lie to me. She can’t be trusted.
“But that logic is flawed. For one thing, Ms. Runyan had a reason to lie to her husband. She lied to him so she could get together with Kent Edley. I think we all agree this wasn’t a good reason. I think Ms. Runyan herself would agree that it wasn’t. But it was a reason.
“She has no reason to lie to you. In fact, she has every reason not to. Testifying at this trial has very likely ruined her marriage and broken up her family.
“Some of you probably find Ms. Runyan repulsive. A wife, the mother of a baby boy, who would meet another man for sex.
“Look, I won’t lie to you. I find it troubling myself.” She showed the jury her ring. “I’m engaged. Marriage is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I’m excited to be marrying a man I love very much. But I know our marriage won’t be perfect. Of course it won’t. No marriage is. But the way to deal with an imperfect marriage is to work harder, or to separate. The answer is never violence.
“Do I believe marriage should be a sacred thing? An expression of true love between two people? Yes. I believe that with all my heart. Do I believe Becky Runyan dishonored her marriage? Yes, I do.
“But here’s the thing. Ms. Runyan is not on trial. Oscar Hazenberg is.
“Oscar Hazenberg is also married. His marriage was about power and control, not love. His wife was unfaithful to him, too. Do we condemn her? Oscar Hazenberg did. When she threatened his dominance, he responded with a brutal act of revenge.”
She cast another stare at the defense table. “So. I believe in the importance of marriage. And I do not condone the behavior of Becky Runyan or Maxine Hazenberg. But I need to put those feelings aside, because those women are not on trial.
“Do I believe Becky Runyan’s testimony? That is the question. The answer is yes. I do. And I think, if you can put aside your personal feelings about marriage, as I have, that you will believe her, too.
“You will believe that she was in Kent Edley’s house during the murder, and that she witnessed the defendant attacking Kent Edley with a knife.
“And if you believe that, can you have any doubt, much less a reasonable one, that Oscar Hazenberg intentionally and with premeditation caused Kent Edley’s death?”
She paused and let her words sink in.
“Before I leave you, I’d like to remind you of one more thing. Ultimately, this trial is not about Becky Runyan, Maxine Hazenberg, or even Oscar Hazenberg. This trial is about a man named Kent Edley. Kent was only thirty-two when he opened his front door to a strange man who butchered him in the most violent and sadistic way possible. Kent Edley’s life ended in pain, ended in screams, ended with the sight of his own private body parts being hacked and sliced from his body.
“So when you go back to the jury room to deliberate, to think about all of the evidence you have seen and heard, please also think about Kent Edley. And then, because the Commonwealth has proven the elements of first-degree murder beyond a reasonable doubt, you must find Oscar Hazenberg guilty. Thank you.”
Jessie gave the jurors a final, firm nod, and then returned to her seat at the prosecution table. Her heart hammered in her chest. She barely heard the words as the judge invited the defense to present its closing argument.
Had she been persuasive enough? She didn’t know. But the answer would come soon enough.
42
For Jessie, delivering her closing argument was emotionally draining, as was listening to the defense’s summat
ion. As soon as they were finished and the jury had been dismissed to the deliberation room, Jessie escaped from the courtroom.
The outcome of the trial was in the jury’s hands now. She needed fresh air.
“Jessie,” said a voice behind her.
Jessie turned to see Emily Graham striding through the crowd of people emerging from the courtroom into the hallway.
“You did great in there. I think we might actually win.” She paused, then added, “Not that I ever doubted you.”
Jessie quirked an eyebrow at that. “Thanks for the compliment, but it’s not over yet. You know juries are hard to predict.”
Graham shrugged. “No matter what the jury comes back with, you won as far as I’m concerned.”
“So no more hard feelings about Novak?” Jessie said.
“No more hard feelings about that. I do have some hard feelings about being responsible for your bachelorette party, though. Event planning is pretty far outside my comfort zone.”
Jessie smiled. “And don’t forget the speech you have to give at the wedding reception.”
“Believe me, I haven’t.”
Leary approached them. Graham gave Jessie a smile and said, “I’ll see you later,” before slipping away toward the elevators.
“I hope you’re not going to prematurely congratulate me, too,” Jessie said. “You know losing hurts twice as much if you assume too early that you won.”
“Does that mean the victory will be sweeter if I tell you that you’ll probably lose?”
She considered. “Maybe. But then I would feel crappy now.”
“Wouldn’t want that.”
“So why don’t we just hold back on our predictions and wait patiently?”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good.”
Leary’s expression turned serious. “Did you mean everything you said in there? About marrying me?”
Jessie nodded. “Every word.”
“So you’re ready? No more hesitation?”
“I’ve been ready, Mark. Maybe I didn’t show it. Maybe I wasn’t even aware of how ready I was. But I’ve been ready since the moment you got down on one knee.”
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