the affirmation of everything night
called into question, and he might believe
that light passes from country to country,
one man to another, a sharing
that becomes personal like the space
between the living and the dead—
that otherness inside us we never touch
no matter how far down our hands might reach.
Morning allows us to survive
our separate lives, step before windows
two continents apart, opening our hands
to the light of another country, this brightness
that comes to us from across the world.
For a moment, Kendra didn’t say anything. “God, Bryce. You’re really something.” Her voice was pillow soft. “I’ve never written a poem in my life. Where does it come from?”
Again, Bryce dodged Kendra’s gaze and stared at the wall. “It starts with something inside me, like a hunger to say or to understand someone or something. It is so fierce that it hurts, and then that ache, well…sometimes it finds a way out in a poem.”
She gave him a hug.
Something shifted. It was as if an internal mountain range had moved. He felt it in his toes. Kendra smelled like peaches. He held on a second too long.
She pulled away, her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know what to say. The truth is this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“It was a lot cheaper than a retainer.” Her compliments embarrassed him, along with the way her hug felt. There was no doubt about it, he had a slight crush on his attorney. Who wouldn’t? She was beautiful and smart. And, with any luck, she was about to save his life.
But who was he kidding? She was twenty-six years old and graduated from Harvard. He was thirty-five years old and on trial for murdering a child. He hadn’t completed his BA in night school. There would always be a sliver of uncrossable distance between him and Kendra.
“I’m going to frame it and hang it on my office wall.” Kendra carefully placed the poem in a manila folder in her briefcase. “You know, the way some people frame the first dollar they ever made.”
As the overhead light caught in her blue eyes, he imagined he could see into her, a clarity and openness that drew him. No one had ever done as much for him as she had. Kendra pulled him out of the darkness and showed him how to flip on a light bulb and save his own life.
“I want you to know something,” he said. “Whatever happens in the courtroom tomorrow, I’m grateful for everything you did for me. Even tracking down my family. You taught me something. Your family is never really in the past—you carry them around with you no matter where you are. Like those Russian dolls, their lives just sit inside you waiting to be acknowledged.”
“Radhauser did most of the work finding your family,” she said. “But you did a few things for me, too, Bryce. My father just handed me two season tickets to the Oregon Ducks home basketball games in the Matthew Knight Arena in Eugene. Center court, no less. And if it weren’t for you and your little lecture on forgiveness, I’d have told him where he could put them.” Kendra shook her head. “I still can’t believe it. Kendrick Huntington Palmer III snaps his fingers and season tickets magically appear. Do you like basketball, Bryce?”
It took all the strength he had to keep his hands from sweeping the wisps of blonde hair off her face. They kept brushing across her cheeks and he longed to touch them. “I love basketball,” he said. “But I’ve never seen a live Ducks game.”
Kendra smiled. “I’ll tell you what, when we beat this thing, one of those tickets is yours.”
“You don’t have to do that, Kendra.”
“And you didn’t have to write me a poem, either.” Kendra patted her briefcase. “Keeping a professional distance notwithstanding, I think we’ve adopted each other. Two social orphans become friends.”
Bryce smiled back.
It was their beginning.
* * *
On Tuesday morning, November twenty-third, 1999, just two days before Thanksgiving, Bryce struggled to keep his hands from shaking as Judge Shapiro called the courtroom to order. Both the prosecution and defense were scheduled to make their final arguments.
Kendra asked if she could approach the bench.
The judge nodded.
Kendra stepped up, Marshall at her heels. “Your Honor, I’d like to call one final witness to the stand. Henry Evans.”
“I object,” Marshall said. “This witness is not on the defense list.”
“Some new evidence has come to light. Henry was the one who delivered the bottle of apple juice to Skyler Sterling and one of the last people to see him that evening. His testimony is imperative to our case, Your Honor. I promise you, it will change everything.”
“I’m going to grant it, Ms. Palmer,” he said. “But it better be good.”
Marshall stomped away.
Kendra explained the witness’s special circumstances to the judge, then called Henry Evans to the stand.
Henry appeared terrified as he walked up to the aisle. He was dressed in a dark suit with pale blue shirt, and a gray and blue striped tie. Two times he turned around and his gaze found his father in the back of the courtroom. Henry kept snapping the rubber band against his left wrist.
Bear nodded to the boy, as if to encourage him.
When he was seated and sworn in, Kendra approached the stand. “Hello, Henry,” she said. “How are you today?”
“I’m scared. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.” Again, he snapped the rubber band.
“There is no wrong thing you can say, Henry. Only the truth. Do you know what the truth is?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It is when you say what really happened and don’t make anything up, pretend, or lie.”
“Very good, Henry.”
He smiled.
“I want you to go back and remember when you went to Caleb Bryce’s house with Reggie Sterling and you asked Bryce if you could deliver the bottle of apple juice to Skyler. Do you remember that night?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you like Skyler Sterling?”
“Objection,” Marshall said. “Calls for an opinion.”
Judge Shapiro sighed. “You are right, Mr. Marshall, but these are special circumstances and I’ll allow. Answer the question, Henry.”
“I don’t remember the question.”
“Did you like Skyler Sterling?” Kendra repeated.
“Yes,” he said.
She needed to ask him something that couldn’t be answered with a yes or no. “Why did you like him?”
“He screamed a lot. And Reggie said he couldn’t live with him. But I liked him. He was a cute baby. And I liked to pretend he was the baby and I was the daddy.”
“You wear a rubber band on your wrist, don’t you, Henry?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it helps me not to scream out cuss words and make my dad and customers at the Lasso upset.”
“Do you have a condition known as Tourette’s Syndrome?”
He nodded. “I can’t always remember the name.”
“Did you go to see Dr. Durham?”
“Yes, he’s my doctor.”
“Did he tell you to wear the rubber band?”
“He said if I flick my wrist and it hurts a little, it might help me forget about screaming out bad words.”
“Did you put a red rubber band on Skyler Sterling’s wrist that night when you gave him the apple juice?”
“Yes. So he could stop screaming, too.”
“Why did you want him to stop screaming?”
“Because of Reggie and Dana. They’re my friends. I wanted them to be married again and Scott and Skyler could live with their mom and their dad.”
“Did you give Skyler anything else that night you thought might help him stop screaming so much?”
“Objection,” Marshall said. “Leading the witness.”
�
�Under the circumstances,” Judge Shapiro said. “I’m going to allow.”
Henry nodded.
“You need to say yes or no, Henry, so our court reporter can hear you.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Tell us about it, Henry.”
Bear stood up at the back of the courtroom. “Don’t say another word, son. I plead the fifth amendment on behalf of my son. He’s nineteen, but I’m his legal guardian.”
The judge slammed his hammer against the bench and ordered the bailiff to remove Bear from the courtroom.
Everything stopped while Bear was led out, screaming, “Stop talking, Henry. I mean it.”
“What else did you do to help Skyler?” Kendra continued.
“My dad said I shouldn’t talk.”
“You are in a court of law, Henry. And you have promised us and God that you’ll tell the truth, the whole truth. That is what you must do.”
“What about my dad?”
“He was wrong to tell you to be quiet. We need to hear what really happened that night and how you tried to help Skyler.”
“Will you explain to my dad?”
“Yes,” Kendra said. “I will. Now, what else did you do to help Skyler?”
“I gave him some of my medicine.”
“Do you know the name of your medicine?”
“No. It’s a hard word to say. But I take it every day. And it made me better.” He snapped the rubber band again. “I hardly ever scream now.”
“Is your medicine called Haloperidol?”
“Something like that, but shorter.”
“How about Haldol?”
“Yes. That’s my medicine.”
“How did you give Skyler your medicine, Henry?”
“I poured it into his bottle of apple juice, ‘cause I wanted him to stop screaming and get better like I did.”
“Thank you, Henry. I have no further questions.” Kendra took her seat next to Bryce.
When Radhauser leaned forward and squeezed Bryce’s shoulder, a streak of joy, as real as a lightning bolt, shot down Bryce’s back.
The courtroom grew so quiet, even Bryce could hear the silence. He had nearly given up, resigned himself to a conviction and death row in a Salem prison. His feelings about his future had been a muddle, like dirty water sloshing around in the bottom of a boat.
But now it was so clear. He wanted freedom with an almost fierce desire. He wanted to know Jason’s wife and kids. He wanted to get to know his mother again. Maybe even find Noah, his old friend from The Lake Institute.
But what about Henry? He leaned over and whispered to Kendra. “They can’t put Henry in jail. He won’t make it.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It won’t happen. No way will he serve any time. I’ll represent him myself if it comes to that.”
Marshall stood. “I have no questions of this witness, Your Honor.”
“The defense rests.” Kendra stood and moved closer to the judge.
Bryce stared at Kendra’s back for a moment, then turned to his sign reader.
“I move the murder charges against Caleb Bryce be dismissed,” Kendra said.
Judge Shapiro granted the motion, offering the state of Oregon’s sincere apology, but reminded the jury they still had to decide on the count of child abuse of Scott Sterling. And then he called for the closing arguments.
Marshall asked if he could approach the bench.
Both he and Kendra did.
“I prepared a closing for a murder charge,” he said. “I barely mention the child abuse.”
Judge Shapiro shook his head. “Well, you’ll just have to ad-lib, Mr. Marshall. I think our jury is ready to go home. Not to mention our defendant. We’ll hear your closing arguments after a fifteen-minute break.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
In the holding cell during the break, Bryce, Kendra, and her father couldn’t stop smiling. They slapped Bryce on the back, then embraced him. The celebratory mood in the room was so tangible you could reach out and touch it. Outside, the late morning sun filtered through the bare limbs of the trees and left a subtle yellow glow over the room.
“I knew it was in the bag,” her father said, looking trim as an athlete and fashionable with his gray streaks in his dark hair an exact match for his obviously expensive three-piece suit. There was a splash of sapphire-colored silk in his breast pocket.
Kendra laughed. “Oh yeah, Dad, when did you know that?”
Her father winked, then gave her a huge grin. “The minute you were assigned to the case.”
Kendra shook her head. That would be her dad—so self-confident it would never occur to him that he might lose, only how big his win would be.
The truth was, she couldn’t have done this without Radhauser and her father. It took all three of them to solve the case. Radhauser got a subpoena for Henry’s medical records. And her father convinced Dr. Durham to testify, should Henry fail to tell the truth.
Her father stopped grinning and turned serious. “Let’s take a look at your closing.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” she said, “You gave me my wings and I’m flying solo on this one.”
* * *
Andrew Marshall didn’t say anything new in his closing statements, he merely reemphasized the state’s contention that Bryce abused Scott Sterling, and possibly even Skyler, based on the bruising reported by both the ER physician and the medical examiner.
Marshall claimed Bryce had a man-endangering state of mind when he chased after Scott for pushing Skyler. And that he was enraged with Dana and wanted to get even by hurting her children. He again showed the jury photos of Skyler’s battered body and reminded them of Scott’s testimony that Bryce threatened to kill him.
All in all, Bryce could see Marshall’s arguments lost their steam, didn’t convey the weight they’d carried before Valerie untangled the 9-1-1 tape, Dana admitted the scars were from a tubal ligation, not an ice pick, and Henry confessed to putting the drug in Skyler’s bottle.
When Kendra stood, Bryce sucked in a deep breath and sat, straight backed and still, nearly afraid to breathe.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, when this trial began, my client was charged with murder in the first degree and one count of child abuse. You’ve heard the prosecution’s case against Caleb Bryce and our defense. You heard Henry Evans come forward and admit he was the one who put the Haloperidol in Skyler’s bottle.”
“When you entered this courtroom,” she said, pausing to look directly into the eyes of each juror. “You were charged to administer justice. Your job is to weigh the facts honestly and sincerely, not influenced by emotions. The scales of justice must always be balanced by an honest gauge. You will provide the gauge, I’m sure, and weigh the facts that determine the truth of this case.” She addressed them the way she’d talk if she stood in front of the twelve most intelligent people on the planet.
“And perhaps the most compelling testimony on the child abuse count came from Scott Sterling, the alleged victim. He told you, in the honest voice of a child, that Bryce never struck him before that night. After a day when Scott pushed his baby brother down the stairs and ran behind a neighbor’s house because Bryce refused to give him ice cream before dinner. A day when Bryce learned Dana planned to take the kids and move back in with her ex-husband, Reggie.”
She moved closer to Bryce.
He knew her hand was on his shoulder, he could feel the gentle weight of it. But, intent on her closing, he was aware of it only fleetingly, like a thought that passed through his mind and disappeared.
“Caleb Bryce is not a violent man. You heard Dana Sterling testify she lied to Reggie about Bryce stabbing her with an ice pick. That the scars on her abdomen were from a tubal ligation surgery. You also heard her say that Bryce would never deliberately hurt her children.”
“Yes, it’s true that after being kicked, bitten and spit on by Scott, Bryce slapped him on the behind with his open hand. And yes, he threatened him. It was not a death threat,
ladies and gentlemen, it was the frustrated voice of a man pushed to the limits of patience by a four-year-old boy. What parent among you has never been pushed to a similar limit?” Kendra sighed and shook her head.
Calling for logic and fairness from the jurors, Kendra stood by her client’s side and kept her hand on his shoulder. “My client is a good man who has been put through hell by the state of Oregon. He was charged with a murder he didn’t commit and was so severely beaten in jail for being a child murderer that he could have died from his injuries. The newspapers and television reporters have slandered him.”
“The responsibility for trying this case has been a heavy one,” she said. “And, throughout it, I have felt my duty to Caleb Bryce. It is a duty I now hand over to you, to render justice fairly and impartially. Let your verdict be based on the law and the evidence you heard here and I am confident you will free him from the one-count of child abuse and allow him to go home and piece his shattered life back together.”
After delivering his instructions, Judge Shapiro charged the jury to deliberate.
The twelve jurors walked, solemn-faced and single file from the courtroom, down the hallway and into the jury room. The alternates were dismissed with the thanks of the court.
Kendra gathered her papers, then shook Bryce’s hand before he was led back down the stairs to the basement holding room.
When, about five minutes later, Kendra joined him, Bryce looked up from his untouched lunch tray. “What do you think will happen?”
She settled into the chair across from him and gave him a big smile. “I’m going to adopt my father’s strategy and believe there is no way we can lose.”
* * *
When Judge Shapiro granted the brief recess, Radhauser slipped out of the courthouse and drove home to pick up Gracie. After he’d discovered Henry’s involvement, Tilly and Bryce’s mother were so certain of release, they planned a celebration of his homecoming, just in time for the Thanksgiving holiday. It was Gracie’s first time out after the mastectomy. Lizzie was spending the night at her nana’s house to give Nana a chance to catch up on bill paying and other chores around her house.
He pulled into his driveway. As he neared their house, he spotted a bronze SUV with Arizona plates parked in the circular drive just outside their front door. He studied the car for a moment, uncertain what to think.
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