by Rachel Dylan
“I did.”
“And I’m sure you put a lot of work into preparing for that trial?”
“Yes.”
“So you had a long day, you finish up the trial, and then you keep working for a few more hours, is that right?”
“Yes, I didn’t leave the office until late.”
“And you mentioned getting snacks from the Quick Stop. Had you eaten lunch that day?”
Ashley was even better than Sophie had anticipated. “No. I hadn’t.”
“Breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“What did you have?”
Not a lot. But she couldn’t say it that way. “I had coffee and fruit that morning.”
Ashley’s heels clicked on the floor as she approached the witness stand. “Let me get this straight, to make sure I have everything correct. You were in the courtroom all day for a trial, plus you worked multiple hours after that. You hadn’t eaten anything since the fruit you had at, let’s call it 6:00 a.m.? Is that fair?”
“That’s right.”
“And you admit you were hungry, and that’s why you stopped to get food on the way home?”
“I was hungry by that point, yes.”
“But at the time when you claim you saw my client, you still hadn’t eaten anything?”
“Not at that time.”
Ashley nodded and let a few seconds of silence pass. “You’re obviously a hard worker, Ms. Dawson. In fact, you were just promoted to senior ADA within the past few months, right?”
“I was.”
“And you wanted to prove yourself in this new role?”
“I always want to do the best job that I can.”
“I assume you were working very hard, preparing for the trial that you were in the midst of when this event occurred. Did you stay up late the night before, working on your closing statement?”
Exactly the argument Patrick had predicted. “I don’t recall exactly what time I went to sleep.”
“Did you go to sleep at all?”
“Yes.”
“And that you’re certain of?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because all-nighters are very rare for me. I would remember if that had happened.” She was thankful Patrick had prepared her for this line of questioning.
“But you can’t say for sure how much sleep you got that night?”
“I can’t give you an exact number.”
Ashley cleared her throat. “Ms. Dawson, you’re unclear on how much you slept, you hadn’t eaten in over sixteen hours, you witnessed two shootings, and yet you want the jury to believe that you are confident in identifying the man you saw as my client?”
She couldn’t afford to waver on this one. “I am confident. I saw his face, and I looked into his eyes. It’s not something I could ever forget.” A chill shot down her back.
“It would be bad for your career, would it not, if it came out that you had misidentified a suspect in a double-murder case?”
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“Answer the question, Ms. Dawson,” Ashley said.
“I don’t know that it would impact my career one way or the other. What I do in the courtroom on my cases has nothing to do with this case.”
Ashley placed her hand on her right hip. “Oh, let’s not mislead the jury now, Ms. Dawson.”
“Objection,” Patrick’s loud voice rang out. “Counsel is providing commentary and not asking questions.”
“Sustained,” the judge ruled.
“Then let me ask you this: Did you know the officers who arrived on the scene?”
“I knew one of them, but not the other.”
“And who took your statement?”
“The officer I didn’t know.”
Ashley turned her attention to the jury. “And didn’t that officer offer up my client to you as a possible suspect?”
Where was this coming from? That certainly wasn’t how it had happened. “No. The officer didn’t offer up anyone. I’m the one who provided all the information and the description of the shooter. Then I identified the suspect through a lineup.”
“A lineup that took place three days after the shooting?”
“Yes, because they had to apprehend the suspect first.”
“But how did the police determine that they needed to look for my client?”
“You’d have to ask the police that. I provided all of the information I had to them, including the license plate number, and I assume they went from there.”
“Before this case, you were aware of my client’s brother—Juan Wade?”
“Of course. He has quite the reputation as the leader of one of Atlanta’s most dangerous gangs.” As the words came out of her mouth, Sophie realized she may have just walked into one of Ashley’s traps.
Ashley raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a prosecutor talking for sure, Ms. Dawson. And wouldn’t you agree that it would be an awfully convenient way to get at Mr. Juan Wade by wrongfully prosecuting his little brother? That you and the APD conspired to set him up to take the fall for these shootings to further your own agenda?”
Patrick shot up. “Objection, Your Honor. This is ludicrous. Counsel is testifying.”
The judge nodded. “Ms. Murphy, I suggest you reword your question.”
Ashley smiled ever so slightly. “Thank you, Your Honor. I’ll withdraw that question and move on. Isn’t it true, Ms. Dawson, that you have suffered from panic attacks for years?”
Sophie took a deep breath. She had prepared for this one, but she’d almost thought that she was going to get off the stand without Ashley asking her about it. “I have had panic attacks in the past. They have become more manageable over the years.”
Ashley locked eyes with her. “In fact, they were so severe that you saw a psychologist for them, isn’t that right?”
“No.” Don’t volunteer. Just answer the question.
Ashley’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you haven’t seen a psychologist?”
“That wasn’t your question.” Sophie was proceeding like she’d worked through the issue with Patrick, but even she realized it wasn’t coming off well to the jury by the looks on their faces. It was time to shift gears. “I have seen a psychologist over a span of many years to deal with my grief.”
“Your grief?” Ashley asked softly.
“Yes, the death of my mother.” As she said the words, her stomach clenched, and she fought the feeling that the room was going to close in on her. No, this can’t happen right now.
“My sincere condolences, Ms. Dawson.”
It actually seemed like Ashley meant it, but Sophie knew better than that. She took another deep breath and focused on Ashley. There was no way she was going to succumb to a panic attack right now. Lord, help me.
“And were you ever prescribed any medication for your grief?”
This was a tricky question. “I was prescribed medicine, but I never filled the prescriptions.”
“And why is that?”
“I didn’t think it would do any good.”
“On the night of October seventh, were you taking any sort of prescription medication?”
“No,” she answered quickly.
“You’re positive of that?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“You were not drug tested that evening, correct?”
“No, I wasn’t drug tested.”
“Did you have a panic attack that night?”
Sophie thought quickly, trying to choose her words. “Not at the scene.”
“But you did later?”
“Once I got home, many hours after the shooting.” She’d left that part out in the preparation, and she knew Patrick might kill her. But she didn’t want him to think that she couldn’t handle all of this.
“But you’re certain, even after witnessing that highly stressful event, so stressful that you had a panic attack, that my client is the man you saw?”
; Sophie paused for half a second too long. “I’m sure.”
“That’s all I have for this witness.”
And just like that, Ashley had planted a seed of doubt in the jurors’ minds—the only thing she needed to do.
Chapter
Seventeen
You want to talk a plea deal now, huh?” Ashley looked into Patrick’s dark eyes. He’d called her and asked to meet that night. She sat in a Buckhead coffee shop across from him, and she loved to see him squirm.
“You were so out of line in court today, Ashley,” he said.
“I was perfectly in line. Just doing my job and what any defense attorney worth her weight would’ve done.”
“By making up outlandish conspiracy theories and trying to poison the jury.”
She laughed. “I was doing no such thing. I was just presenting a very plausible fact scenario for the jury to entertain. You couldn’t honestly have thought that I was just going to roll over on this one.”
“You felt guilty after you came and warned me.” His eyes locked onto hers. “And then you did that in court to try to make up for it in your own mind.”
“Not at all. You’re almost cute when you’re angry, do you know that?”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Don’t worry, Patrick. You’re definitely not my type.” She paused. “So what’s your offer?”
“You’re mistaken, Ashley. I’m not here to offer a plea.”
“Then why did you drag me down here?”
“To warn you that if you pull another stunt like that, I will report you to the ethics committee of the Georgia bar.”
Was this guy for real? “Are you kidding me? You’re wasting my time. There was absolutely nothing wrong with what I did today. I was zealously defending my client. Maybe if you had a bit more of my passion and dedication, you’d be able to present a better case for the state. You were putting the jurors asleep today with your direct exam of Sophie. Total snooze fest.”
“Just when I think you’ve reached the bottom of the barrel, Ash. You’re beyond words. And to go after Sophie over her mother’s death.”
Ashley tossed her hair back over her shoulder. She’d taken it out of the ponytail after court. “That was completely legitimate. She has emotional issues that directly impact her reliability. She fully admitted that she had a panic attack the night of the incident. You’re held back by some weird sense of how you should operate as a prosecutor, and that’s what frustrates you the most.”
Patrick shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“You can’t handle the fact that I scored a huge blow today. My chances of getting an acquittal just went up exponentially.”
“You sure don’t lack confidence, do you?”
“Can’t afford to. I deal in life and death. The stakes are far too high.” Why was he starting to psychoanalyze her? She was the one who wanted to play the mind games. It was time to cut off this line of discussion.
Then it occurred to her that this whole meeting was a setup by Patrick to try to throw her off.
She smiled. “You’re desperate.”
“What?” he asked.
“You’re getting that feeling. That feeling deep in your gut when the case is starting to slip away. And now you’re going to do everything in your power to try to take me down. Don’t worry. I’ve been there too. I know that feeling. It’s scary.”
His eyes widened. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” She didn’t think she was off base. More like right on target.
“I’ve heard enough of your nonsense.” He rose from his chair.
“Patrick, you’re the one who invited me for coffee. Not the other way around.”
“I’ve said what I needed to say. See you in court tomorrow morning.”
She smiled as he walked away. She’d won the battle today, and she planned to win the war.
Cooper sat on the sofa beside Sophie at the safe house. The TV was on, but he had a hard time thinking she was actually focused on the show.
She’d been uncharacteristically quiet ever since she finished testifying. He understood she was worried about how things had gone, but it wasn’t her fault. That shady defense attorney had started hurling accusations. But the problem was that the damage had been done. He’d seen the looks on the jurors’ faces—concern, confusion, and the biggest one: doubt.
The revelation about her panic attacks was also shocking to him. He wondered why she had never talked to him about it. In a way, it bothered him that he had been so open with her and yet she’d kept something like that from him. But now wasn’t the time to go down that path. What she needed most was his support. He needed to keep Sophie from wallowing in whatever thoughts were surely occupying her brain right now.
“Sophie, talk to me.”
She looked over at him and then back at the TV. “There’s really nothing to say.”
“I think you and I both know that’s not true.” He studied her and for the first time saw that fatigue had set in.
“Regardless, I don’t feel like talking.”
He had to keep trying. “It might make you feel better to get it off your chest.”
She looked directly into his eyes. “I doubt it.”
“Sophie, you’re not the type of person to lock up your feelings. It’s one of the things I like best about you. If you’re thinking something, you say it. Let me help you.”
“You’ve done your job. You’ve kept me safe. I’m sure you’ll be glad when the verdict is rendered and you can move on with your life.”
Cooper knew she was hurting, so he didn’t take her words personally, but it didn’t seem like there was anything he could do about it. “It isn’t over yet. The jury could still convict him. One thing Ashley didn’t do was convince the jury that you were lying.”
“She’s the defense. She doesn’t have to convince them of anything. That’s Patrick’s job. She’ll just keep poke-poke-poking away until there’s nothing left. They all think I’m some sort of unbalanced psycho who needs counseling and has panic attacks. You probably think that too.”
He shook his head. “I could never think that about you. You should’ve told me about the panic attacks, though. I could’ve been more sensitive, given all the issues you’ve been going through.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”
That was the last thing he thought about her. “You’re so open about everything else. It just surprised me that you held that back. But I get it.” And hearing her explanation, he totally did. Now he felt guilty for even questioning her.
“I don’t want you to worry about me any more than you already are.” She blew out a breath. “Sometimes I wonder what God is trying to do with my life. Because right now it’s a mess.”
“Realize that you’ll fight another day. That this isn’t the end. And that even if this case doesn’t go your way, you’re still a prosecutor fighting the good fight.”
She tilted her head slightly to the side but didn’t immediately respond. “I’m trying to have faith that God has it all under control, but right now it’s hard. I saw those two people shot and killed in cold blood. Regardless of whether Ricky is young and misguided, he killed those people. I tried to help, and their blood was on my clothes. My hands.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks.
Cooper did the thing he knew he shouldn’t and put his arm around her. He pulled her closer into him, and she wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her head against his chest.
Holding her tightly as she cried, he prayed that she would stop hurting. But he also prayed for himself. That he could keep the promise he’d made that he wouldn’t open a door with Sophie that he couldn’t go through. Yes, he wanted to be with her probably more than anything right now. But could he keep her squarely in the friend zone?
Who was he kidding?
After a couple minutes, the crying stopped, and she lifted her head. She looked up into his eyes
, her face wet with tears.
And for the first time, he truly wondered if things could be different with her.
The next morning, Patrick walked from his car toward the courthouse, ready to fight. He refused to let Ashley’s blatant lies taint his case. Just the smug look on her face last night had been enough to send him over the top.
He’d barely slept as he tried to come up with a strategy to combat her conspiracy theories. Ashley coming to him and pretending to be afraid for his safety was probably all a ploy.
He’d tried to clean things up in Sophie’s redirect, but she had seemed flustered—and rightly so. Neither one of them had been prepared for this specific angle. He’d done so much preparation and put so much thought into it, but there was always the element of surprise.
And then there was the whole panic attack thing. He shouldn’t be surprised that Sophie had held back on him a little bit. All witnesses did. But he was still annoyed with her.
Today he’d have to re-call both officers who’d arrived at the scene plus the detective leading the investigation. He wanted the jury to hear it out of their mouths directly that there was no collusion or effort to try to make Juan Wade suffer.
He’d told Sophie that she needed to come to court today in case she had to be examined again. As much as he knew she wanted this nightmare to be over, he couldn’t take the chance that he would need her and she wouldn’t be there.
A couple hours later, everything was going smoothly. Each of his law enforcement witnesses had testified as he expected—that there was no collusion and no effort by APD to use this case to get to Juan Wade.
He only had one officer left to call back to the stand.
“Call your next witness, Mr. Hunt,” Judge Turner said.
“The state would like to re-call Officer Peter Gray.”
Officer Gray walked up from the audience and took his place in the witness chair. He was the most junior officer on the investigation and had only been at the APD for two years.
“Officer Gray, thanks for taking the time again, and I will do my best to be brief,” Patrick began. “There is just one issue that I want to make sure is clear for everyone.”