by Alison Cole
Melanie gives the prosecuting barrister a wide-eyed look. Clearly, she doesn't expect his approach.
"Ahhh, ...Well, when she told me she just needed to see him, I just wanted to help her. That's all!"
"Okay. If I'm to accept that explanation, let's talk about the day of the Hadley child's kidnapping. How..."
"Oh. Don't wanna talk about that. No sir!"
"Miss Stabb, how do you know what I'm going to say? You're on the stand and you've sworn to tell the truth. You must answer any question I ask you. And I'm asking you, how were you involved in that near-kidnapping? What did you do?"
Melanie sits, obstinately still. She refuses to answer that series of questions.
The magistrate looks at Melanie, waiting for a response.
"Miss Stabb! You are under oath and I am ordering you to answer his questions! Now!" The magistrate's voice comes out in a dull roar.
"Oh! Must I? I already know I'm in trouble. Why should I make it worse for myself?"
"It's already bad. You were implicated by Miss Wells. You've undergone a psychological evaluation, for which there is a diagnosis. You will be sentenced to some type of penalty, although I don't know yet what that will be. Answer the question. Now!"
Melanie lets out a sigh, indicating she feels very put-upon.
"Well, all right! We were talking about how much she loves Marcus Hadley. When we were at the concert and she spotted him, we sat a row behind him ...he's not really that bad-looking. I can see why she took such a liking to him."
"So, her fixation upon him didn't concern you?"
"No. Why should it?"
"He's married...a father."
"And? She liked him first. To our minds, she had the right to get involved, not his wife. When I saw how much she likes him - Cara, that is - well, I just knew that I had to help her get closer to him. To try and get him away from his wife, if at all possible. And we were going to use their kid to do that."
As I hear that, Marcus' arm goes around me, partly to protect me and partly to keep me from leaping out of the bench and attacking Melanie. My heart begins pounding and I grow light-headed as I hear Melanie's testimony.
Tim is sitting on my other side and he grabs my hand. Feeling the support from the band and Marcus helps me to calm down.
I look up to find the prosecuting barrister looking at me with concern in his eyes. He turns and asks the magistrate a question.
"Sir, that revelation had to be a shock to Mrs. Hadley..."
"Mrs. Hadley, do you need a break? I don't know what other testimony we'll be hearing," says the magistrate.
I take a deep breath. "Thank you, sir. I'm fine."
"Continue," the magistrate orders Melanie's attorney.
However, he is just as stunned by Melanie's admission as we are. It takes him several seconds as he fumbles to catch up and recover from the damage Melanie has done to her case.
"Uh, so your plan was to grab an innocent, harmless baby and use her as a ploy to get her father to start spending time...with her...kidnapper."
"Yeah. Pretty much. If she hadn't stopped for the blanket and if the band hadn't run after her, it would have worked. Why shouldn't she get what she wants, once in a while?"
There is little Melanie's attorney can do to recover from this damaging testimony, and he knows it. However, he still tries.
"If you had realized that what you were planning would land you behind bars...would you have tried to do it?"
"Don't know. All I know is that, when a friend needs my help, I'm going to try and help her out."
The attorney pounces on this tiny lifeline.
"Loyalty! Much to be praised. Yes. Maybe you didn't understand that your contemplated actions could be harmful or that they were illegal, hmmm?"
"Well...maybe." Melanie finally catches on to what her attorney is saying. Still, I think it's too late.
The magistrate releases Melanie from the stand and the defense barrister pleads his client's case.
"Sir, I think you can see that my client has trouble with the concepts of right and wrong and cause and effect. All she saw was her friend's lovelorn condition. All she wanted to do was to help her. Therefore, she should be given leniency. As well, she has been given a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, which renders her incapable of understanding the effects of her actions upon others." His arguments went on in this vein for some time.
Finally, it was the prosecuting barrister's turn to speak.
"Sir, Miss Stabb's mental health diagnosis renders her 'incapable' of understanding how her actions affect others. It's more like she doesn't care to regard the effects of her actions on others. She doesn't care now - and she didn't care then - about how her actions impacted baby Hadley and her parents. If she is released from jail, she will be very likely to resume her past behaviors - entering into illegal acts and 'mischief' with others, regardless of how they harm others. Sir, she must be held liable for her participation in the attempted kidnapping of baby Hadley. She must serve time behind bars, beyond what she has already served. She must be given the opportunity to take advantage of therapy so she begins to understand the effects of her actions on others."
Finally, both trials are over. It is all over but for the jury's verdicts and the magistrate's decision. He plans to take a few weeks considering any possible sentences, depending on the verdicts coming from the jury.
Chapter 16
Now that both Cara's and Melanie's trials have ended, we return to practicing for the concert tour, which is now imminent. Even though both women are still behind bars, Marcus and the boys feel we should keep our security high - especially since the press are still bothering us. They are still upset at us for the stunt we pulled several weeks ago on the big reveal we hinted at. We're still in complete compliance with the gag orders. The press are, as well, but they do keep a very close watch on us. It's highly irritating. Now that it's so cold outside, we don't take the baby outside, but for a few minutes here and there.
"Johanna, Marcus, you might want to take a look at this," Tim warns us. He's holding out one of those ever-present rags.
I sigh and take it from him. Opening it, I read, "Hadley Family Spiraling Into Depression. Rarely Seen Outdoors." Looking at the title, I laugh, then I read:
Now that the trials for Cara Wells and Melanie Stabb have ended, the Hadley family appear to have virtually disappeared. Where are they? What are they doing? Mrs. Hadley has gone into hiding, close friends say, because she is "concerned" that the women who attempted to kidnap her baby girl are soon to be released from jail.
Friends of the Hadleys say that Mrs. Hadley sits at home, worrying for the safety of her child; that she spends her days crying. These friends report that Mr. Hadley is rapidly becoming exasperated by his wife's moods and tears, and that he is actively searching out a new lover.
I lower the rag, then, on impulse, wrinkle it.
"Whoa, let me see that," says Marcus.
"You won't like it," I tell him.
I watch his face as he reads the rag. I see his face darken as he reaches the part that details how he's supposed to be looking for a new lover.
Oh, my fuckin' God! I'm sorry, but this is rubbish, tripe! All we can do is ignore it, Jo. It's almost over, except for the verdict and sentencing."
"Let's get practicing, guys. My 'depressed' self feels the need," I snark at them.
That day, my practicing is better than it has been for a while - seems that, when someone makes me mad, I really throw myself into my work! I sit around writing new songs, and really work on making my voice stronger.
As we drive home, I look around, trying to see if I can spot any rag reporters. Of course, it would be anyone, so I can't really say that the woman pushing her child in the pram, or the man walking down the windy street holding his lunchbox are reporters spying on us. Still, I'm very grateful when we pull in through the electronic gate at the back of our home.
After feeding the three of us, I bathe Lizzie and tak
e her to bed. Marcus and I pull our Christmas decorations out of the storage closet. While it's still mid-November, we decide to put our tree and decorations up. I want the home to feel like Christmas. After several hours, the family room, stairway banister and other rooms are decorated, giving our home a definite Christmasy air. I love the holidays and I am ready for us to get back in the holiday spirit.
That night, after we go to bed, Marcus begins running his hands over my body and I play with his body in response. As he plays with my nipples, my wet pussy, and my clit, he gives me light slaps on my pussy, which stimulate me to an even higher degree of passion.
I slap him back lightly on his penis. As he feels the slaps, Marcus' hips jerk in response.
"Oh, my God, Marcus, I want you! Now!"
In response, he plays my body even more. His thumb massages my clit and his fingers enter my pussy and he rubs and slides in and out of me simultaneously. The twin sensations bring me to my peak very quickly. Throbbing, I thrust my hips and feel my pussy contracting around Marcus' fingers. I close my eyes, seeing fireworks. I can't wait any longer. I need to feel him inside of me.
"Now! Now, dammit!" I tell him.
Marcus mounts me, sliding in between my legs. He prods at me with his large cock, barely entering me, then pulling back out. This makes me come again.
I grab his ass and pull him into me. The sensation of his hard, throbbing dick sliding into me causes me to come yet again.
In response, Marcus thrusts his hips once, then slides over the edge of sensation, jetting into me.
"Johanna! My God, I've been wanting you all day long, girl!"
"Ever since we read that pitiful article? Oh, my God, keep doing that! Yes, that! I've been wanting you all day long, too!"
Marcus positions himself so that, as he thrusts, he brushes against my G-spot, causing me to come repeatedly.
Not wanting to wake Lizzie, I bury my face in Marcus' shoulder and scream my release and satisfaction.
I get up to go to the bathroom and slip into my nightgown. Once I'm back in bed, I cuddle against my husband's warm, trim body and start dozing off.
I dream that I'm in the magistrate's court room and I'm waiting to learn the jury's verdict.
"Because of the continued harassment from the tabloids, once the jury gives their sentences for both young women, I will pronounce sentence, if they are found guilty. Before I ask for the verdicts, I just have got to reprimand the tabloids, for their continued behaviors in following the Hadley family. I read the 'news' account covering Mrs. Hadley's supposed crying and depression, and I must say, this is a new low. While the tabloids' reporters have respected the letter of my orders, they have continued to make light of the experiences of the Hadleys in an attempt to gain more sales.
I will be continuing to read these rags and, if I see anything that mentions Mr. Hadley, Mrs. Hadley or their child, and if that mention is patently untrue, I will level a heavy fine against the tabloids and every. Single. Reporter. Who. Participates. In. Those. Lies. Representatives are here, I know that - each and every one of you should be ashamed of yourselves and you should act accordingly.
"With that said, what is the verdict for Miss Wells?"
"Guilty, sir. We find Miss Wells guilty of the charges against her."
"Thank you for your service. Miss Wells, please stand. You have been found guilty of all the charges against you. Notwithstanding your mental health diagnoses, I am sentencing you to life behind bars, with no opportunity for parole."
"No! I intended no harm to Marcus Hadley! I only wanted..."
"SILENCE! Take her back to her cell. She will be sent to prison in north England, where she will serve her sentence for the rest of her life."
Once Cara and her attorney leave, guards bring Melanie Stabb in. The jury in her case files in and takes their seats.
I look at her. She's still emaciated, but dark roots are growing out of her brightly colored hair. She's visibly nervous and twitches as she sits at the defense table.
"What is your verdict for Miss Stabb, please?"
"Sir, we find Miss Stabb guilty of every charge against her."
"Thank you for your service.Miss Stabb, please stand. I sentence you to serve a life sentence with no poss..."
"NO! Not for helping my friend!" Melanie stands and begins screaming as she tries to stride out from behind the defense table.
Guards jump and race to restrain Melanie, pulling her back to the defense table so she can hear the rest of that the magistrate has to say.
"As I was saying, you will serve a life sentence behind bars, with no possibility of parole. You attempted to capitalize on your childhood and diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, and that is shameful. You attempted to rip a baby from her parents' arms. I don't buy that you were trying to help your friend. You simply wanted to be involved in causing pain to others, for whatever reason. Society must be protected from you - for the rest of your life. Take her back to jail. She will be transported to a prison in Scotland. She will have no opportunity for contact or communication with Miss Wells."
My eyes open suddenly. Our tour is still more than one month away, just after Christmas. I think about the juries and the magistrate, pondering their decisions. I hope it won't take that long for the jury and magistrate to give verdicts and sentences! They have got to be found guilty!
"Can't sleep, luv?" Marcus voice drifts from the other side of our bed.
"No. Just had a freaky dream about the trials."
"You, too? What was yours about?"
"The jury's verdicts and the magistrate's sentences. Both Cara and Melanie were found guilty in my dream. Both lost it when they learnt what their sentences would be. Life for both, no parole. Did you dream the same thing?"
"Hah! I wish! Your dream is the one I wanted to have. No, in mine, they both got off scot-free, then came after us."
"Oh, Lord, Marcus, no! I'm telling you, if they get off, I want to leave England. Go live somewhere else in Europe or in America somewhere."
"I'm thinking the same, actually...but, you know, with technology and that damned 24-hour news cycle, it would make not one jot of a difference. All they would have to do is plug into the Internet and they could find us..." Marcus snaps his fingers. "Just like that."
Oh, Marcus, that is so depressing!" I turn and wedge into his side, seeking comfort and warmth. All of a sudden, I am freezing cold inside. The fear overwhelms me and I begin to cry.
Marcus wraps his arms around me and rocks me like a small child.
"There, there, luv, we'll figure something out. Let's just pray they're both found guilty. It's clear they both have mental issues. At the least, they'll be remanded to some kind of mental institution."
"Yeah! Mental issues out the wazoo! I wonder...does England have any legal provisions for life-long commitments to mental hospitals?"
"Don't know, but I'm sure we can find out. I'll Google that before practice tomorrow. If I can't find anything, I'll ask the prosecuting barrister. Come on. Tomorrow's a busy day for both of us and we need our sleep," Marcus says.
I roll over and we sleep spoon-style. Feeling Marcus' warmth surrounding me, I feel much safer, and a random thought flits through my sleepy brain. Maybe things will turn out as they should. It's clear they're nuttier than a field of pecan trees.
We wake the next morning and, when we get Lizzie up, it's immediately clear we aren't leaving the house. She's flushed, coughing, feverish and cranky.
"Oy, Marcus! Call the doctor, please. I think Lizzie is ill!"
"D'you want an appointment for this morning? How about practice?"
"Soonest appointment you can secure and call Tim. Please let him know Lizzie's sick and, save for the doctor, she shouldn't be out and about."
At the doctor's office, we are seen after close to an hour's wait. We're fortunate - others come in later and will end up waiting far longer. Still, the wait proves too long for Lizzie. She vomits, getting the sick all over herself and us. We si
gh, pulling her clothing off and wrapping a blanket around her. We have no changes of clothing for us. Right after this happens, the nurse calls us back to an examination room, where she takes Lizzie's vital signs.
"Oh, you poor little luv! Not feeling well are you? Mum, dad, take these cloths and wipe the worst of the sick off you. Doctor will be in presently."
We wait another twenty minutes and Lizzie spews again. This time we're prepared and we move out of the way as I keep my hands on her feverish body and head. Shortly after, doctor comes in and examines our little girl.
"Fever, cough, congestion and vomiting. Has Lizzie had a flu shot this year?"
"Yes, we all had them," I say.
"Well, she managed to get sick, regardless. I'm prescribing an antiviral that's safe for small children. Start giving this to her immediately and she should turn the corner within forty-eight hours or thereabouts. Johanna, you need to protect yourself the most, as a singer. You should both start taking a prophylactic dosage of this medication as well. It'll prevent your voice from being too badly impacted if you get sick. Marcus, take your girls home and go pick up three prescriptions. Mum, get your little girl into bed and start giving her clear fluids. Acetaminophen only for her fever and aches, every four hours. No solids as yet. Once she hasn't vomited for at least twenty-four hours, start her on non-dairy foods, such as chicken broths with soft vegetables. Crackers. Flat soda. Weak tea. Nothing heavy, greasy or spicy. And watch out for your own health, will you?"
"Thank you, doctor. We'll do all this."
"How will you practice?"
"At home. Vocal exercises, lots of water and I'll sing my songs in a different room when the baby's resting."
"Good job."
At home, I clean Lizzie up and give her a few sips of cool water, all she could tolerate, apparently. After changing to clean clothing, Marcus leaves for the apothecary and I toss our dirty clothing into the washer and start checking our stock of invalid foods. Lizzie will need sustenance so she can fight this virus. After Marcus returns, we take our doses of medication and, gently waking our daughter, give her first dose as well.