Mitigating Circumstances

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  Instead of turning left, in the direction of her house, she turned right. Her destination was an old church whose property included a steep slope planted heavily with avocado trees. She saw it every day on her way to work. The parking lot was deserted. Mature trees blocked anyone from seeing it from nearby streets. Exiting the Honda with the shotgun, she wiped it with the tail of her shirt and held it in the fabric until she released it to tumble down the embankment. As her eyes tracked it, she said, “I killed a mad dog today, Dad. You would have been proud.”

  Turning onto her street, her eyes scanned the gauges on the dash. The little needle on the gasoline gauge was not even a fraction above, it was locked on “E.” A second later she saw the police car parked in front of the house.

  CHAPTER 11

  With the car sputtering on gas fumes alone as Lily approached her driveway, she knew she had no option but to enter the house and confront the police. She hit the garage-door opener and pulled the Honda alongside John’s white Jeep Cherokee. As she let her head fall against the steering wheel, the engine still running, the garage door closed, her thoughts turned to asphyxiation. As her mind struggled toward lucidity, a capsized boat trying to right itself, she reached for the strength of rage and her earlier conviction, and knew it was gone. She was naked and exposed, fully aware of what she had done, face to face with the horror. Perhaps there was just enough gas left, lingering lethally in the tank, and some slim chance that whoever was inside could not hear the engine running before she turned blue and it was all over.

  She quickly turned the key off. Killing herself would only inflict more agony on Shana.

  How had they found her? Linked her to the crime in only a few short hours? There was no possibility of tracking the plate through the Department of Motor Vehicles, for she had altered it. Even if he had lived and recognized her in her blue knit cap? Maybe he had seen the Honda? That’s it. He had followed her, of course. He might not know her name, but he knew where she lived. Here again, it didn’t play. The house was a rental and would take more than a few hours to track, and she truly doubted that he—in what had to have been a dying statement—remembered the street and number.

  Her life was over. She would be imprisoned and disbarred. There was no defense for the crime she had committed. No matter what he had done to her and Shana, she had not shot him in self-defense; she had tracked him down and assassinated him. She thought of defenses: diminished capacity, temporary insanity. Did she know her actions were wrong at the time? Was she cognizant of their wrongfulness? The answer was a clear and distinct yes.

  Reaching for the car door handle took all the strength and courage Lily had. She almost fell to the garage floor when the door swung open, for her fingers were locked on the handle.

  John opened the door to the garage just as she reached the first of the four steps leading to the house. “Where in God’s name have you been? I was panicked. I kept calling the house. Then I dozed off until about six. You still weren’t here, so I called the police.” He paused, rubbing one hand across his brow. “I guess you saw the police car.”

  When he continued, it was in a tentative, uncertain voice. “I told them everything. They’re talking to Shana in the den now.”

  Lily’s hand flew instinctively to her neck; the noose she had been hanging from had been cut, but only for the moment. “What did you tell them? You mean, about the rape? You decided we should report it?”

  “Yeah. And they said we should have reported it last night. They might have caught him in the area, somewhere near your house. With you being a D.A. and everything, they found it hard to understand why you didn’t report it.” There was more confidence in his voice now, his actions having the support of the police officers. He turned and entered the house, through the door leading to the kitchen. The den opened off the same area.

  Lily stepped inside and took in the scene. There were two uniformed officers: a female sitting on the beige leather sofa next to Shana, the male standing back near the kitchen bar. Although she knew a lot of police officers, she had never seen these two. All eyes in the room turned toward her, yet she spoke as if she were carrying on a private conversation with John, her voice low.

  “I’m sorry I worried you,” she said, looking down at the floor and then back again to his face. “I was so upset. I got on the freeway to come home right after we talked and then realized I was halfway to L.A. I got off on some side street and got lost. By the time I found my way back to the freeway, I was stuck in rush-hour traffic.”

  Feeling the eyes on her, Lily threw her arms around John’s neck in an awkward embrace, then stepped back. “I started to call, but I was afraid to get out of the car. It was a bad neighborhood. And I was afraid to wake you and Shana.”

  She acknowledged the officers’ presence with a nod and hurried to Shana’s side. She was pale, glassy-eyed, and dark circles were visible under her eyes. Only her head protruded from the blanket she was wrapped in. Choking noises rose from her throat as Lily put her arms around her and guided her head to her shoulder. Shana moved her body to get as close to her mother as possible, trying to wedge her head under Lily’s arm as she had as a small child.

  The female officer was blond, a bit stocky for her frame, but the uniform added bulk, and she wore her hair in a knot at the base of her neck. Her eyes were hazel and reflected concern and kindness, but her face was a practiced mask of authority. “I’m Officer Talkington, Mrs. Forrester, and this is Officer Travis.”

  The male had stepped back almost to the living room area and had his portable radio to his mouth, about to speak. He then apparently changed his mind and stepped back into the den. “Excuse me, but can I use your phone? We put out an attempt-to-locate on your vehicle and I need to cancel it.” Trying to impress Lily with his professionalism, he added: “Any transmission regarding this incident is scrambled, so don’t worry about your address or name or anything going out. That’s why I have to use your phone. We cant scramble on the portable.”

  Her mind was racing, tracking at lightning speeds as she sat quietly and stroked Shana’s hair. They would need access to the crime scene to collect evidence and take photos. Mentally starting at the front door, she recalled the file scattered there and felt the noose tighten again around her neck. Clinton knew she had taken the file, and whatever Oxnard detective assigned to investigate the murder might call Clinton, even ask for the file. She had to get it back, leave it as it had left Clinton’s hands. That meant copying the torn page of the police report and replacing it. She had to eradicate anything that could link him to the crime, for that would leave her wide-open as a suspect. A suspect with motive and no alibi.

  Prints. Before she could allow the police into the house, she must wash it down for prints. How long had he been in the house? What had he touched? Other than an eyewitness ID, fingerprints should be the only thread connecting her to his murder.

  The female officer, Talkington, was speaking, but Lily had not been listening. A flash of green filled her mind with horror—the slug casing. The green slug ejected at the scene, placed in the chamber with her own hands. Surely, when the gun exploded, any prints would have been destroyed. But forensic science today…?

  “…other than description, we were waiting to discuss the details of the actual crime when you were present, Mrs. Forrester,” she spoke firmly, attempting to gain Lily’s attention.

  “I’m sorry,” Lily said apologetically. “I didn’t hear you. I…I haven’t slept. John, can you get me a cup of coffee?” She smelled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and briefly wondered why John had not thought of offering her a cup.

  “No, Mrs. Forrester, surely you are aware of the fact that you could destroy valuable evidence. Your husband gave us a sketchy outline of what occurred.”

  Lily responded, “I ate some chewing gum in the car, so there’s no evidence in my mouth. I didn’t think.”

  “Well, to repeat what I was saying, Shana here basically gave us a physical description of the as
sailant, and we, of course, have already put out a broadcast on that information. We’d like to get a full statement now. Then we’ll take you and your daughter to Pleasant Valley Hospital for an exam.”

  “Certainly,” Lily said.

  Officer Travis stepped into the conversation. He was chewing gum and smacking it as he spoke. Tall and dark, he exuded arrogance and Lily found him offensive. He looked bored and eager to leave, probably fully intending to let his partner complete the mounds of paperwork while he had breakfast somewhere. “We need the keys to the house you were renting so we can order a crime-scene unit over there.”

  Lily sat up on the sofa, straightening her back, assuming a prosecutors demeanor. “It makes more sense for me to be present. I could direct them to areas where I feel they may locate evidence. After my daughter and I complete the medical, I’ll go to the house and call for a unit to meet me there.” She turned with a degree of sarcasm in her voice. “You do agree with me, don’t you, Officer Travis?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said, smacking loudly. Her attempts to deflate his enormous ego were like flies on the back of an elephant.

  Travis was the type of police officer who didn’t give a damn if Mother Teresa was raped. He would never make sergeant. He worked to kick ass legally. Looking at his black boots, Lily bet the toes were loaded with steel. Enough brutality cases had crossed her desk to spot those who teetered on the line, who without the badge would end up in jail.

  “Officer Travis,” she said now, “I would appreciate it if you left the room while my daughter and I give our statements.”

  He looked at her, not budging, as if to protest. This was probably the part he enjoyed. Then he turned and left, advising his partner that he’d wait in the cruiser.

  Their statements took over an hour, as painful and embarrassing for Shana as she knew it was going to be. Talkington was good and Lily made a mental note to write a letter on her behalf to her commander. She took her time, didn’t push Shana, and kept her voice soft and compassionate.

  The officer stood, adjusting the heavy gun belt and nightstick. “So, that’s all we’ll need for now. Investigators will contact you for more details probably by tomorrow. If you think of anything else, here’s my card.”

  “Thanks,” Lily said and meant it.

  “Are you ready now? We’ll drive to the hospital.”

  “Well drive ourselves,” Lily answered.

  “But, Mrs. Forrester, an officer has to be present during the exam for chain of evidence. This is all just procedure. Surely—”

  “Right,” Lily said impatiently, “but we don’t have to ride over in a police car. We’ll meet you there. My daughter has been through enough. I don’t want the neighbors to know about this. We’ll say that we were burglarized or something.”

  John had been busy in the kitchen the whole time, cleaning, embarrassed by the mess. It was as if he had been caught by unexpected company. He walked the officer to the door and closed it, returning to Lily.

  “I’ll go with you. Do you want to help Shana get dressed?”

  She turned and said quietly to Shana, “Do you need me to help you get dressed?”

  “No. I’ll be fine. I want to take a bath, but the officer said I couldn’t. How can she tell me not to take a bath?”

  Lily wanted to cry. “Because there may be evidence on your body. You can’t take a bath. We also need to take what you were wearing last night to the hospital. They’ll want our clothes.” Lily suddenly looked down at her feet, at the old hiking boots. “I couldn’t find any tennis shoes last night, so I found these in an old box.” She glared at John, wanting to draw his attention away from the boots, her appearance. “It was nice of you to insist that I took everything I owned. Thanks, John. Now I don’t even have a change of clothes over here.”

  As soon as Shana shuffled down the hall, dragging the large blanket behind her, she turned to John. She wanted to slap him, scream at him in frustration, but the pitiful look on his face stopped her.

  “You’re angry at me, aren’t you?” he said. “Because I called the police without asking after we said we weren’t going to do it.”

  She sighed. “You did what you thought was right. What I’m sure is right. I’m not angry, John, I’m—I’m…” The lightheadedness she had felt caused her now to see flashing lights before her eyes. She was going to pass out. She started to fall; he grabbed her. “I’m okay,” she said weakly, pulling away. “I was just dizzy for a moment. Why don’t you take a shower while I make some phone calls? You look awful.”

  “Do you want me to make you something to eat? I can make you some toast or something. Maybe if you eat?”

  She fixed him with ice-cold eyes, red-rimmed and void of makeup. “Take a shower, John. Let me do what I have to do.”

  Like a scolded puppy, he turned, shoulders slumped, walking off to the bedroom. The clock in the kitchen said nine forty-five as Lily snatched the phone and dialed the office. She started to ask for Butler’s office, but instead asked the operator to ring Richard.

  “Richard Fowler,” he answered on the speaker phone.

  “It’s me, Lily. Take me off the speaker.”

  When his voice no longer sounded like he was in a well, she spoke softly. “Tell Butler for me that I have an emergency and can’t come in today. I’ll call him later and be in tomorrow. You’ll need to review and assign some cases. They’re on my desk, some on the credenza. Whatever can’t wait.”

  “You got it. Are we on for tonight?”

  “I can’t talk now. I promise I’ll explain everything later. Just cover me on this, please.”

  “Did you hear about Attenberg?”

  Benjamin Attenberg was a superior court judge in his late sixties. He had once called Lily unconscionable in her interrogation of a witness, and they were not on the best of terms.

  “Tell me about it tomorrow.” She started to hang up.

  He persisted. “He’s dead—the old goat dropped dead yesterday of a heart attack. I got to the office real early this morning and ran into Butler. Then he called me into his office. In fact, I just got out. And Lily, Butler had just finished talking with the governor about an appointment to replace him.”

  Lily braced herself against the kitchen counter. She didn’t reply.

  “Are you listening?” His voice was low, secretive. “You are being considered, Lily. Believe it or not, Butler asked my opinion. They want to fill this slot with a woman, so it’s between you and Carol Abrams. You may receive a call from the governor today even. If I were you, I would make it a point to come in no matter what’s going on. Unless, of course, you’re dying.” He laughed.

  “Or something…” she said out loud, not meaning to. Her mind was so jumbled now that she could no longer think. She blurted out the words. “Both my daughter and I were raped last night at knife point. We’re on our way to the hospital now for the medical-legal.”

  “Jesus Christ. Why didn’t you say something right away? Are either of you hurt? Where are you? I’ll come—”

  “Will they consider me now?” she said, her voice small and breaking as she spoke. Stretching the curly phone cord to the sink, she splashed water on her face.

  “I’m so sorry about this, Lily. God, I am so sorry.”

  “Richard, will you answer me please? Will they still consider me for the appointment now that I’m a rape victim?”

  “They’ll consider you, of course, but you know as well as I do that it causes a problem. Hell, they might not rule you out. The presiding judge could shift all the sexual-related cases to other judges. There’s no way you could sit unbiased on those matters.” His voice dropped and softened. “It’s you I’m concerned about, Lily. Can you talk? Tell me what happened?”

  “You know I lost the appointment. Why don’t you just say it? We have three or four attorneys sitting pro tern and two retired judges. They’re not well versed enough with the complexities of the new laws regarding sex offenses to try them. What benefit can I be i
f I can’t use my expertise to try these cases? They’re flooding the calendar.” She paused, sucking in air. “I lost it.”

  He was placating now. “Don’t jump. Wait and see what happens. I think you should allow me to advise Butler, however, about your status. There’ll be more phone calls involved and some conferring if they—”

  “Go ahead and tell them about the rape,” she said, defeated, “and tell them I’ll decline if offered. No need to try to make it work. I don’t want it that way.” The blood. She could see the blood. The scene was surfacing; she had to stop it. “Let them appoint Abrams.” Pert and perfect Carol, she thought. No blood on her white hands.

  “When will I see you?” he said. “I’ll come right now if you’ll let me.”

  “No,” she said. “You can’t. I’m at the house with my husband. Just handle the cases. If you want to help me, do that. I’ll call later.”

  Hanging up the phone, she tried to hold herself together. She rushed to the bedroom and was relieved to see the bathroom door still closed, the shower still running. The black Magic Marker was still on the license plate, and at close range, in broad daylight, it would be visible. Grabbing a bottle of nail-polish remover, she headed for the garage, picking up the roll of paper towels from the kitchen counter.

  A minute later, Shana opened the door and was down all four steps to the garage level by the time Lily heard her. She was kneeling behind the Honda, and the towels were smeared with black Magic Marker. Shana approached her mother, sniffing, a puzzled look in her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Lily’s mind went blank. “Nothing. Are you ready? Is Dad ready?” She tossed the towels into the trash can in the corner of the garage.

  “What’s that smell? What are you doing?” Shana was antsy and persistent. She had on a pair of jeans and a pale blue blouse, and her eyes were darting around the garage as if she expected something to jump out at her.