by Camryn King
He didn’t disappoint. The Navigators won. After that, everything changed. Christian Graham was god again. Leigh’s murder? Pete’s indictment? Forgotten.
34
After the press conference with her celebrated activist attorney and powerhouse publicist, Mallory had felt hopeful, even fairly confident that the defamation lawsuit would be dropped within months and that Pete’s trial would begin shortly thereafter. There were newspaper articles and requests for radio and television interviews, one from a well-known national talk show host. There seemed to be renewed interest in not only how Leigh died but who was she before that. The woman. The journalist. Mallory felt she was finally getting the type of treatment that should have happened all along, that the lie of Leigh being a woman distraught enough to commit suicide was being replaced by the truth of her strength.
Mallory even became something of a media darling. Women and men alike admired her loyalty to friendship. Women sympathized with what Mallory felt was a misrepresentation of her character with the defamation lawsuit. She went back to work, and instead of a singular focus on serious topics with “Knightly News,” she and Charlie decided to expand her platform with a segment called “Mallory Matters.” There was a meeting with a cable network where discussions were held about a combination news and lifestyle show with the same name. She moved back into her brownstone and became a regular again at Newsroom. Two months of happiness.
Then the Navigators won the championship. Made history. And everything changed.
Overnight, interview requests dried up. The cable TV company changed their mind. She remained at New York News. Charlie remained her advocate. But where “Mallory Matters” had started with promise, tons of emails, responses, interest, once June arrived and the Navigators won the championship, it seemed that all of New York and the world came under a spell and Christian Graham was the magician. Mallory wasn’t totally immune to the magic. She woke up one morning and a year had passed. The defamation lawsuit was dormant but still on the table. But Pete’s trial had been granted its third delay, and Mallory had a feeling that when it came to this tactic, the defense team was just getting started. Life hadn’t proceeded according to her plan, and she wasn’t happy about it.
That’s what Mallory found herself telling her mother during a late-night call on yet another Saturday night when she had nobody. And yes, she’d just gotten paid.
“It’s just not fair, Mom. It’s been a year since the indictment was handed down. Over two years since Leigh was murdered. But the Navigators won the championship, and it’s like the entire judicial system got amnesia. Nobody remembers. Nobody cares. I can’t take it!”
“Mallory, hon. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m a big girl. I’ll get through it. It may take therapy and prescription drugs, but I will be sure to keep it together until the trial at the very least.”
“And then?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to upset you further than it sounds like you might be already. But have you given all of the possible outcomes due consideration? Like the trial taking five, ten years to happen? Of Pete not being convicted? What will you do if that happens? What will your life be like if you do all this work, make all of these strides, win all of these victories, and the outcome remains unchanged?
“Mallory, you are an incredible young woman. Over the past year I feel I’ve gotten to know you in a way that I didn’t and, quite frankly, it’s a shame. But your tenacity, your perseverance, the way you champion a cause, is admirable. The one big concern that I have, however, is that this situation has consumed so much of your life, and when it’s over the void will seem as wide as the Grand Canyon, one that may seem impossible to fill. And then what?”
“I don’t know, Mom. I’ve tried to block out the possibility of him not being convicted.”
“But it is a possibility. One that you need to reconcile your feelings with so that if it indeed happens, you will be okay.”
“Okay? How do you propose I do that?”
“By knowing that no matter what happens, you’ve done everything in your power to get justice for Leigh. To honor her by embracing the life she was robbed of. By living your every moment, every second of your life. Fully. Completely. With no regrets. By finding a way to be happy. I don’t know much about your friend, Leigh Jackson. But from what you’ve told me and what I’ve read it’s what she would do, and what she would want for you.”
Mallory thought long and hard about what Jan said. In doing so she realized that for the past year that was the lesson life had been trying to teach her. Her friends, too. Not verbally, but by their actions. After years of complaining that there were no good men, Ava was almost six months into a relationship with a guy from Chicago that she met online. Their main communication had gone from in person to by text and email as she commuted back and forth between New York and the Windy City where he owned a hair products company and a string of successful barbershops.
Sam’s daughter, Jasmine, was almost walking, her family of four now taking up much of her time. Mallory visited her every now and then, but more and more they had less and less in common. What she realized, after hours of deep, authentic contemplation, was that Jan was right. Life was passing by, with or without her. Whether convicted or acquitted, Pete’s life would go on. In that moment, Mallory decided that hers would, too. Help in jumpstarting that life would come from the unlikeliest of persons.
Mallory went online and after searching a variety of options decided to get into something she hadn’t enjoyed since college. Two weeks after the conversation with Jan, she walked into a cycling class. Five minutes later the instructor arrived.
It was Zoey Girard.
To leave in that moment would have been too conspicuous, but seconds after the final song ended, Mallory slid off the bike, grabbed her things, and made a beeline for the exit.
She got about halfway down the hallway before her name was called out.
“Mallory, wait.” She didn’t. Zoey hurried to catch up with her. “Mallory!”
“Look, I had no idea that was your class. Don’t worry. I won’t be back.” She started walking again.
Zoey placed a hand on her arm. “I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
“Why?”
“I don’t consider you the enemy. Yes, I’m Christian’s publicist and as such his protector, too. I admit to warning him about you, and blocking your attempts to contact him. Knowing that you were an investigative journalist, I always felt there was an ulterior motive. And there was.”
“That’s not quite true.”
“How do you dare stand here and say that?”
“Because interviewing Christian was not my idea and when it happened, I wasn’t sure who killed Leigh. But she was a huge Navigator fan and I knew she’d met Christian. And even though she denied it, I thought they’d dated. So when the opportunity presented itself to get more information, I did. My best friend had been murdered. And nobody gave a damn. Each time another tidbit got dropped, I followed the trail.”
“I can’t say that I agree with your methods, but I don’t blame you for defending your friend.”
Mallory didn’t know what to say. So she said nothing, just turned and started walking toward the door.
“I’m here every Saturday,” Zoey called out after her. “And most Tuesdays and Wednesdays, too. Come back and in no time, I’ll have you in shape.”
Mallory didn’t respond. She didn’t go back. A week later Zoey called her.
“Look, Zoey. I appreciate what you said the other day. I don’t hate you, either. But considering the circumstances and the plethora of cycling classes, I think my attending another one is best.”
“Okay. I hope you change your mind, but I get your point. But the class isn’t the only reason I called you. Have you ever been to Kansas City?”
Mallory was immediately defensive, believing she was finally going to learn the reason behind Zoey’s perceived kindne
ss.
“Why, have you?”
“Hundreds of times. Used to spend summers there as a kid, all the way until high school.”
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, I was there a while back at this club with my cousin. I saw this woman about your height and complexion. She had a little different style, though. A little funkier. Wore these long braids. But I swear she could have been your twin.”
“My relatives live in Omaha,” was Mallory’s noncommittal answer.
“Well, look at that,” Zoey said. “Something in common.”
She hung up, no goodbye, in the brusque, businesslike way with which Mallory was familiar. The following Tuesday Mallory went back to Zoey’s cycling class. Six months later, Zoey had kept her word. Mallory was in the best shape of her life.
Little by little, Mallory’s life changed. It became more balanced. She kept in touch with Sam and Ava but made new friends. Several months after that, while Mallory was busy minding her business, something else happened. The judge came down on Pete Graham’s defense team, called them out on their tactics and set a date. Almost three years after Leigh Jackson was murdered, her case was going to trial.
35
Some had advised her against attending, felt her presence would detract from the justice she sought. But when the trial for the case of the State of New York vs. Peter Franklin Graham got underway, Mallory was an invested spectator in a jam-packed Manhattan courtroom.
The first two weeks were brutal. The prosecution presented evidence. The expert defense team dismantled it with the precision of a Swiss army knife. Expert witnesses battled against each other. And the worst news? Prosecutors had failed to submit evidence creating probable cause for the court to grant an order demanding the exhumation of Leigh’s remains, which made the fact she’d been pregnant when she died and that Pete was believed to have been the father inadmissible evidence. Mallory had reached out to Leigh’s parents. So far, they had not attended the trial.
By week three the defense filed a motion to dismiss. The judge denied it but admonished the prosecution that if no witnesses were brought to add to what had already been presented, they needed to rest their case. That Thursday, for the first time since the trial began, Mallory didn’t walk into the courtroom alone. A newly engaged Ava, back for a visit after having relocated to Chicago, sat beside her.
“Look at his smug ass,” Ava whispered, shooting daggers that should have pierced the back of Pete’s neck and those of his defense team. “Sitting there as though he’s in a business meeting instead of on trial.”
“It is business,” Mallory responded. “And he’s got good reason to be confident. I hate to say it, Ava, but the prosecution is no match for that guy’s dream team. I know they’re lying. They know they’re lying. But in our court system it’s not what you know. It’s what you can prove.”
“All rise.”
The buzz of conversation dwindled as the judge entered and the bailiff announced that court was once again in session. The prosecution was asked to call their first witness of the day to the stand.
Alex Weiner, the astute, well-educated prosecutor who with any other defense team might have already won the case, stood.
“Your honor, the prosecution calls Charles Callahan to the stand.”
Mallory’s jaw dropped. She’d begged the attorneys to let her testify, to at the very least be a character witness for her friend. But they’d declined her offer, believing that putting her on the stand and opening her up to the defense’s cross-examination was too much of a risk. That would have opened up the door for the defamation suit to be mentioned, which would have weakened Mallory’s credibility and by extension the prosecution’s case. But Charles could tell the jury what she’d told him!
Ava leaned over. “Did you know?” she whispered. Mallory shook her head. “Brilliant.”
Charles was sworn in and took the stand. Mallory had a feeling he knew exactly where she sat, but he looked straight ahead, determined yet slightly vulnerable. It struck Mallory that this was the first time she’d seen Charlie in a subordinate position. For the second time in her life, she said a prayer.
The questions began.
“Mr. Callahan, what is your position?”
“I’m the senior editor for the New York News.”
“Did you know the victim, Leigh Jackson?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you know of her?”
“Yes.”
“Prior to the media attention surrounding this trial, what did you know about her?”
“Objection, your honor. Irrelevant.”
“Overruled.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Callahan.”
“I knew she was a journalist who was found dead in her apartment, at the time deemed the apparent victim of suicide.”
“How did you obtain this information?”
“It was reported on in our paper by one of our investigative journalists, Mallory Knight.”
“How long have you known Ms. Knight?”
“I’ve known her work for about seven years, and her personally for five.”
“In the time that you’ve known her, would you describe her to be a capable journalist?”
“Much more than capable. She’s an award-winning investigator. One of the best in her field.”
“Objection, your honor,” the defense groaned as if becoming ill with the line of questioning.
“Overruled,” the judge said. But then to the prosecutor, “Get to the point with this witness.”
Weiner nodded. “Did there become a time when your opinion changed as to how you believe the victim, Leigh Jackson, died?”
“Yes.”
“When was that, and why?”
“It was several months following her death. My employee, Mallory Knight, was writing a series on unsolved murders and questionable deaths. She came to me with what she believed were inconsistencies in Jackson’s official cause of death from what she’d seen.”
“What she’d seen?”
Charlie nodded.
“Verbalize your answer,” the judge said.
“Yes. Because of the series Mallory was often alerted when a murder was suspected. She was called the morning of Ms. Jackson’s death and went to the scene.”
The defense attorney stood. “Your honor, may we approach the bench?”
They did. Mallory couldn’t hear what was said, but from the look on the prosecutor’s face whatever it was wasn’t good. He conferred with his partners before addressing the court. “I have no further questions.”
Matt Hernandez stood and slowly approached Charlie, his very countenance that of supreme confidence and legal expertise of the highest order.
“Did you join your employee, Mallory Knight, at the home of the deceased, Ms. Jackson?”
“Excuse me?”
“Were you there, Mr. Callahan, in the home of the deceased Ms. Jackson, at the time the death was investigated?”
“No.”
“How were you able to corroborate your employee’s account of what happened, what she told you she saw that convinced her that the police officers and detectives trained and licensed in such capacities were wrong in their assessment and she was right?”
“It wasn’t a matter of—”
“I’m not asking for what wasn’t. I’m asking for what was. What was the method you used to corroborate your employee’s story at the time her piece on Ms. Jackson was printed?”
“It wasn’t fact-checked, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Matt turned toward the jury. “It wasn’t fact-checked. A major, legitimate newspaper in one of America’s largest cities allowed their employee to run an article as one would run their mouths without knowing what they were talking about, and appear on the printed page as fact when, in fact, it was not fact-checked. This witness is done.”
“Objection,” the prosecution said, after shooting up from the chair. “That was a leading comment designed to—”
“Sit
down, attorney Weiner. Objection overruled.”
The morning continued with the ducks lining up in the defense’s favor, no more so than when Christian entered the courtroom and a recess had to be called to reestablish order. By the end of the morning Ava began preparing Mallory for the very real likelihood that Pete would be acquitted. Remembering her mother’s words, Mallory considered the possibility. The mere thought made her heart hurt.
“Your honor, the prosecution would like to call a surprise witness.”
“Your honor,” Matt began, smiling condescendingly at Weiner, “with the time we’ve had to prepare this trial, there should be no surprise witnesses.”
“He’s feared for his life, your honor, and has only recently agreed to be a witness for the prosecution.”
“That doesn’t matter, judge. The defense must be given advance notice.”
“You’re being given notice now!”
The courtroom buzzed with spectator comments. The judge hit his gavel. “Attorneys, approach the bench.”
After a couple moments of heated whispered exchanges, the judge announced that he would allow the witness.
“The prosecution calls Daniel Groves to the stand.”
Mallory’s head jerked up. No, it couldn’t be.
From the moment Danny started talking, Matt’s cockiness began to drain away. Danny testified that Leigh had asked Pete for a million dollars to keep their affair a secret from his new wife. When the prosecutor suggested the testimony could be corroborated by an employee at Christian’s Kid Foundation, the defense called for a recess. When they returned it was with a plea deal for murder in the second degree.
Just like that, it was over. Peter Graham pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and received a twenty-year prison sentence with the stipulation that at least ten years had to be served before he was eligible for parole.
Pandemonium broke out in the courtroom. The judge repeatedly struck his gavel, to no avail. To Mallory it sounded like the beat for a one-word rap. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
36