by Artemis Hunt
“What look?”
“A strange look. His eyes were gleaming, and he looked as if he would like to eat me.”
“Objection, your Honor,” Karen asserts. “I object to the descriptions used by the plaintiff. It is merely her conjecture and it was dark in the lobby.”
“Objection sustained,” says the judge. “Stick to the facts of the case, Ms. Faulkner.”
“Yes, your Honor. Mr. Morton then invited me up to his penthouse to help get me cleaned up.”
“Did you accept his invitation?” Norma says.
“Not at first. I told him I was there to visit a friend, but he insisted. I saw no harm in his invitation at first . . . and so I allowed him to persuade me to follow him upstairs.”
“Objection. The language used is misleading.”
“Sustained. Once again, Ms. Faulkner, I must ask you to stick to the facts.”
“Yes, sir.”
Norma Hennessey says, “All this can be corroborated in the footage recorded by the security camera in the apartment lobby, your Honor.”
The court takes a pause to allow a television screen and VCR to be wheeled in.
“Relax,” Karen whispers to Brian.
Easy for you to say, Brian thinks, squirming. He turns to Sam behind him, and she gives him an encouraging smile.
His mother’s expression is stony.
The videotape plays for the courtroom audience. Brian watches it for the second time despite telling himself he wouldn’t. The lobby scene plays again. The collision. The conversation. The smile on his face – smug, predatory. Just as Delilah described it. He can hear some of the jury members tittering.
When the video finishes playing, Norma Hennessey resumes her examination.
“What happened next?”
“I followed him up in his private elevator to his apartment. It was the penthouse. I remember thinking that Mr. Morton must be a man of considerable means. He started to take off his clothes and asked me if I wanted something to drink.”
“Did he take off all his clothes?”
“Not at first. Just his jacket.” Delilah details all this with hesitancy and strain, as if the memory of it is so horrific that it pains her to relive it. “I went to the bathroom to clean up the front of my dress. My dress was wet, and I had nothing else to wear. So I borrowed Mr. Morton’s bathrobe.”
“His personal bathrobe?”
“It was hanging there in his guest bathrobe, so I assumed it was a guest bathrobe.”
“Go on.”
“When I came back to his lounge, he had poured us both a drink. I asked him if I could dry my clothes. He told me to take my dress to the tumble dryer, and that he would change into something more comfortable. When I came back, he had already changed his clothes.”
“What was he wearing?”
“I-I’m not sure. A T-shirt, I guess. And a pair of jeans. I was sitting on the couch. He sat next to me immediately, and we both drank.”
“What was he drinking?”
“I think it was bourbon.”
“And what were you drinking?”
“Vodka. But I only had a sip of it. That was when he started to kiss me.”
“Kiss you? You were both still sitting on the couch?”
“Yes. He leaned over, grabbed my arms roughly, and started to kiss me.” Delilah flashes Brian a look of intense pain. He winces. “At first, I didn’t know what to do. He starting grabbing my breasts, my arms, everything. He was quite rough. I started pushing back against his chest, but he was far stronger than me.”
“Objection!”
“Overruled. Let the plaintiff continue her testimony, Ms. Sandler.”
“He pushed me down against the sofa, and that is when I started to scream and beat him off with my fists. But he was very strong and I . . . couldn’t fend him off. He started to rip my bathrobe. I struggled out of his grasp and tried to run from the sofa, but he grabbed me by the hair and we both fell onto the coffee table. It broke. I got shards of glass in my palms, my forearms, everywhere.
“I screamed again, but I realized no one could hear me all the way up in this penthouse. Despite my injuries, I tried to escape once more, but Mr. Morton grabbed me again. I hit my head on something, and everything became a bit of a blur.”
Delilah pauses, overwrought. There are tears in her eyes.
Brian’s fingernails are indenting his palms. He hasn’t realized he was clutching his fists so hard. He remembers Officer Cutter’s remark on the night Sam was brought in to the station. All those photos . . . merely prove that Ms. Faulkner may indeed have an interest in you. But it still doesn’t prove that you didn’t rape her.
“He pushed me down onto the floor. And he . . . he raped me. Repeatedly.” The tears start to run down Delilah’s cheeks. “He sodomized me. I tried to fight him all the way, but he was too strong. Finally, he passed out from too much drink, I believe. It was then I gathered my clothes and made my escape.”
Norma Hennessey is sober. And very grim. As are the jury and the entire courtroom. Brian remembers what Karen told him about Norma Hennessey – she specialized in prosecuting rapists and convicting them because she was a rape victim herself. This means she is doubly vengeful.
“Did anyone see you flee the premises?” Norma asks.
“Yes. The doorman.”
“What happened then?”
“I was very distraught. I was injured. The doorman tried to help me, but I was not in the right state of mind. All I could think of doing was to stumble to my car and drive myself to a hospital.”
“Did the defendant follow you?”
“I don’t think so. He was passed out.”
“Thank you, Ms. Faulkner. There are no further questions.”
“Your witness,” Norma says to Karen.
10
Sam steals a look at Angelique Morton’s face when Delilah tearfully details her rape at the hands of Brian Morton. Angelique is impassive, her WASP features betraying nothing. Sam can’t imagine what it would be like to have a mother like Angelique. Her own mother is ditzy and horny and a tad irritating, but she’s basically harmless.
No wonder Brian is so damaged. No wonder he has enough disorders to warrant his own classification in the psychiatric diagnostic manual!
Karen Sandler goes to the witness stand where Delilah Faulkner is drying her tears. Sam has to admit that Delilah put on a pretty good show, if indeed it was a show. That’s where her own greatest fear lies. What exactly happened on the night of the opera? They can prove all they want that Delilah was obsessed with Brian, but can they convince a jury of skeptical people that he didn’t rape her when he wasn’t too sure himself of what exactly happened?
Karen’s voice rings out loud and clear in the oak-paneled courtroom. “Ms. Faulkner, you stated that you met the defendant in the lobby of his apartment building on the night of _______.”
“Yes.” Delilah dabs her eyes with a tissue.
“Was that the first time you met him?”
Delilah hesitates. “No.”
“Where have you met him before?”
Sam can only see the back of Brian’s chestnut head, but she can tell from the posture of his shoulders that he is extremely tense. Her own heart is palpitating away like a drumbeat.
“In college.”
Murmurs run through the throng.
“Were you both friends or passing acquaintances?”
Delilah cocks her head to glance at Brian. “We were . . . acquaintances. Mr. Morton was in his senior year and I was a freshman.”
Karen makes a big show about holding up two college yearbooks, which she passes to the judge and members of the jury. One features an article on Brian and soccer. The other has a photo of Delilah, then known as Adele Jankovic.
“You went by the name of Adele Jankovic in college. Is that correct?”
“Objection.” Norma Hennessey is on her feet. “My client is not on trial here.”
“Your Honor, I am trying to establish r
easonable doubt as to the plaintiff’s motives here in claiming rape.”
“Objection!”
“Overruled. You may proceed with your line of questioning, Ms. Sandler.” The judge leans back and looks interested.
“Did you have a sexual relationship with Mr. Morton in college?”
“Yes.” Delilah seems composed. Norma nods at her encouragingly. This scenario has obviously come up in their conversations after Sam was caught breaking and entering into Delilah’s apartment.
“How long did it last?”
“Four days.”
“Four days? Not much of a relationship, is it?”
“No. Brian didn’t do girlfriends. He was quite clear about it.” Delilah says this as a matter-of-fact, without a trace of bitterness or regret.
“After this relationship . . . ended, you took an overdose of sleeping pills.”
Gasps run through the audience.
“Not immediately. Some time had passed. I was very . . . troubled by a lot of things. But not by Brian. My parents were in the midst of a divorce and I was very . . . affected by it. I loved my parents, and it killed me to learn that my Dad was having an affair with another woman.”
“So Mr. Morton’s rejection of you wasn’t a part of it? Because it was public knowledge on campus that he played an April Fools’ joke on you in loving you and then dumping you.”
Murmurs from the audience. The faces of some jurors wear disapproval. Sam hopes that this line of questioning won’t paint Brian in too bad a light. They are going to need the jury to like Brian later. But the truth has got to come out first.
“Objection. I don’t see where this is leading, Your Honor.”
“Your Honor, bear with me, please. I am establishing a possible reason as to why Ms. Faulkner is putting my client on trial for rape when he claims he can’t remember what happened.”
“Objection. Too much conjecture on the defense counsel’s part!” Norma’s face is apoplectic.
“Sustained.”
Karen composes herself. “Did you recognize Mr. Morton on the night of the alleged rape?”
“I was not sure at first . . . but later, yes.”
“And you did not confront him on this fact?”
“I had changed my appearance as part of my rehabilitation program after . . . my overdose attempt. Mr. Morton did not recognize me. I was playing along, wondering when he would recognize me. But it was too late because he had already attacked me.”
“Allegedly attacked you. Such a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? A man you had sexual relations with in college. Fancy meeting him again after all these years.”
“Objection!”
“Withdrawn.”
Karen paces in front of the witness stand for a while, makes a point to go up to the jury box, peers into the jurors’ faces, and then swivels back to Delilah. Delilah is looking a tad hot under the collar.
Karen shoots, “Who is the friend you were meeting at Mr. Morton’s apartment block?”
Delilah blinks. She isn’t expecting this. “Pardon?”
“Who is the friend you were meeting at Mr. Morton’s apartment block? You said you were on your way to meet a sick friend. That was what the spaghetti Bolognese was for, you mentioned.”
A pause.
Delilah says, “Her name is Susan.”
Karen goes to her desk and rifles through some papers. She picks up a sheaf.
“This is the owner and tenant list of Mr. Morton’s apartment block. Susan, you say. Susan . . . Susan.” She pretends to thumb through the names. “I don’t see a Susan here, Ms. Faulkner.”
“Objection. May I remind the defense counsel that Mr. Faulkner is not on trial here?”
“I am merely trying to establish several inconsistencies in Ms. Faulkner’s statements to both the police and the court. A fact the police should have investigated more thoroughly.”
“Overruled. Continue, Ms. Sandler.” The judge is definitely interested.
“Please answer the question, Ms. Faulkner. Remember, you are under oath,” Karen insists.
Delilah appears stunned. Sam bunches her fists upon her lap. Caught out in her own game! The jury is leaning forward, clearly excited about this new turn of events.
Delilah finally answers, “I may have gotten my facts jumbled up in the . . . the terrible confusion. I was passing through the lobby on my way to another building. I don’t . . . fully remember, because everything was so traumatic.”
Karen says, “And yet you parked at that very building. Your car and its registration plates were captured by the surveillance camera. You drove in at 8.03 p.m. The incident at the lobby where Mr. Morton spilled sauce all over your dress was at 9.15 p.m. What were you doing for a whole hour there, Ms. Faulkner?”
The audience in the courtroom awaits with bated breath. Sam thinks of the incident in the opera house when Brian’s phone started beeping because his alarm went off in his apartment. It had always struck her as a little off-key. Had Delilah done something to the alarm to get him to come back?
Delilah says, “I don’t remember.”
She was obviously schooled in the ‘I don’t remember’ clause. When caught out in a lie, plead post-traumatic stress amnesia.
“Are you sure you don’t remember?”
“Objection. Counsel is badgering the witness.”
“Withdrawn.”
Karen goes to the desk, exchanges a look with Brian, and then proceeds to pick up the large cardboard stacks on the side. “May I seek help in mounting these, Your Honor?”
Pretty soon, Sam’s incriminating photos of Delilah’s secret ‘obsession’ room – which have been carefully pasted onto several cardboard pieces and mounted on tripods – are laid out in front of the court. Karen makes a show of distributing these cardboard stacks to the judge and members of the jury.
Karen announces, “Allow me to explain the nature of this exhibit.”
“Objection!” Norma is on her feet again. “These photos were obtained through unlawful and illegal means!”
“Explain,” says the judge.
Norma launches into a mini-version of Sam’s misdemeanors at Delilah’s apartment and her subsequent arrest, punctuating her rhetoric with plenty of finger-pointing. Sam feels like sinking lower and lower into the ground as people stare at her.
“I move to appeal that this ‘evidence’ should be struck off as it was obtained by fraudulent means, Your Honor,” Norma thunders.
Karen says, “I call to reference the case of Ableman vs Salidas in Sept 2010. In the case of The People vs Brian Morton, there is a need to ensure a just resolution to what could be an innocent man’s fate. This evidence may have been obtained through less than credible means, but it was the only means in which it could be obtained. Had the police raided Ms. Faulkner’s apartment, they would have found the exact same thing.”
Norma says heatedly, “Article 8 of the Human Rights Act establishes a right to respect an individual’s private life, including her home and what she has in it!”
“And may I remind you of the court’s decision in the case of Ableman vs Salidas, Your Honor? In the overwhelming light to establish the truth in the interest of justice, the court allowed the presentation of the evidence by the private detective. The evidence allowed the defendant, Martin Salidas, to be proven not guilty.”
Norma says, “But it was not so in the landmark case of Imerman v Tchenguiz back in July 2010. The Court of Appeal said it would not condone unlawful activity simply because it was feared that the other party will behave unlawfully and conceal that which should be disclosed. Any information gained through unlawful means should not be used in court.”
Sam’s heart sinks lower. So much hinges on this.
Karen says, “Your Honor, it is the court’s discretion to allow admissible evidence, even if it was obtained unlawfully, if it is in the interests of justice to do so. This discretion can be exercised in accordance with the significance or weight of the evidence in question, and with
regard to the gravity of the law-breaking concerned.”
She looks meaningfully at the Judge.
Sam knows that underneath all that legal jargon, Karen is pleading with the Judge to allow this evidence because of Brian’s situation.
After a long pause, the Judge says, “I will take this under advisement.” He glances at his watch. “It’s time for a lunch break. We will reconvene in an hour. Both counsels . . . in my chambers . . . now.”
Sam watches as both Norma and Karen storm after the Judge into his chambers behind the courtroom.
Brian turns to Sam, his expression concerned. They hug over the divider, oblivious to the stares around them.
“What if he doesn’t allow this?” Sam whispers in Brian’s ear.
“Don’t worry about things you can’t control.” He smiles at her as he tucks a strand of her coppery hair behind her ear. “You hungry?”
*
Brian, Sam and Angelique have a quick sandwich lunch in the bistro downstairs. People keep glancing over at them, but do not approach, thank goodness. The situation is uncomfortable enough with Angelique in their midst.
Angelique is trying to make conversation. ‘Trying’ is the right word, because Sam thinks Angelique doesn’t do it very well.
“How long have you two been going out?” Brian’s mother says. It may have been an attempt to be casual, but from Angelique, it comes off as probing.
Sam doesn’t reply but looks instead to Brian. He takes a sip of coffee to compose himself.
“A little over a year,” he says.
Sam tries to meet his eyes, but he refuses to engage hers.
“That’s nice, Brian,” Angelique says. “It’s splendid to know you have been with someone this long. It must be a record for you.”
“Thank you for the observation, Mother.”
“And would you two be settling down anytime soon?”
Brian wears a funny expression that can be interpreted as ‘Help me out here’.