Dear Mike,
I wanted to let you know that while your mother has been my dear friend and patient for many years, I did not know until today that she was your mother. Your anger is understandable, and it is healthy for you to deal with it rather than suppress and nurture it, but some of your assumptions about your mother are inaccurate, and it would be beneficial for you to know the truth. I would encourage you to talk with her. If I can assist either of you in any way, I will.
Cara Parker
Having finished the note, a bit worried about meddling, one of my tendencies, and feeling very tired, I had gone to bed early and was sleeping soundly when the phone rang. Elaine asked if Mike was with me.
“We all noticed when you left the courthouse with his mother, and I overheard Mike say he was coming to see you. I’m worried. It’s two o’clock in the morning and he hasn’t come home.” She was even more worried when I told her Mike had come, found Jessie at my house, and left quite upset.
“We were all surprised you knew her.”
“I’m sorry if my concern for Jessie left your family feeling betrayed, but she has been my friend for many years, and I didn’t know she was Mike’s mother until today. There is much more to the story than you know, but Jessie is the one who’ll have to tell you. I pray she will have the courage and get the opportunity.”
“I would like to talk to her.”
“I can tell her, or you could call her. I can give you her number.”
“Maybe after the trial is over.” She apologized for calling so late and hung up.
I had trouble going back to sleep. I wondered where Mike was, how Jessie was, and what would happen at the trial. Jon was used to late night calls. He turned over and went right back to sleep. I kissed his cheek and that accomplished what the phone had not. Later we both slept.
The next evening, Jessie called to say she had spent the day at the trial. She had disguised herself with a blonde wig and sat in the balcony. No one recognized her, but she nearly ran into Mike as they both came in late. She said, “Mike looked terrible—unshaven, hair messed, and eyes bloodshot. He wore the same pants and blazer that had gotten soaked the night before. His shirt was open at the neck and the tie was missing. He looked hungover, like he had spent the night on a park bench.”
“Maybe he did spend the night on a park bench,” I said. “Elaine called last night asking if he was at my house. She said he hadn’t come home. How did the trial go?”
“The prosecutor tried to establish Jeff’s motive for murder at the very beginning. He called the doctor from the abortion clinic first. You know, I’m surprised they didn’t call you. That doctor said Elaine came accompanied by Greg and had an abortion. Jeff’s attorney on cross-examination asked him if Elaine revealed the father of the baby, and he said she had not.”
“I’m glad they didn’t call me. I would have had to say she did, and that would have helped to establish a motive for murder.”
“Next the prosecutor called the EMT who answered the 911 call. He said Jeff had answered the door and then paced back and forth between the door and the fireplace. Elaine was sitting on the sofa. He found Greg lying on the floor next to the fireplace with a pillow under his head, covered by a blanket, and unconscious. He was alive but died soon after they arrived. In response to Jeff’s attorney’s question on cross-examination, the EMT said he didn’t usually find murder victims with such attention paid to their comfort.
“The prosecution then called the police officer who investigated the case. He said he arrived soon after the EMTs. He said he questioned Elaine and Jeff separately, and they both spoke rationally and calmly and related the same story. He found blood on the corner of the hearth and on Jeff’s hands. The blood matched the victim’s. Both Elaine and Jeff denied having moved any of the furniture in the room, and the ottoman was near the victim’s feet.
“Jeff’s attorney asked if he found any physical evidence that made him doubt Jeff’s story, and he said he did not. When he asked how they explained the blood on Jeff’s hands, the police officer said Elaine told him Jeff had placed the pillow under Greg’s head. Jeff’s attorney then asked the policeman if he had ever seen a murderer put a pillow beneath the victim’s head, and he had to agree he had not.”
“That seems like a good point. Did the jury respond to it?”
Jessie paused, thinking about the question. “I saw two women nod to each other and a man shook his head like he agreed, but another man sat on the back row and yawned all afternoon.”
“Makes you wonder about our legal system. What happened next?”
“The prosecution then called the medical examiner, who said the blow to the temple had been the cause of death. When asked about the weapon causing the blow, he said he found minute fragments of brick in the wound that matched the brick in the fireplace. Jeff’s attorney made the point that there were no other injuries, which was consistent with Jeff’s claim that he only slightly shoved Greg in the chest, causing him to fall over the ottoman.”
“That all sounds hopeful to me,” I said. “How can they say it is anything but an accident?”
“I don’t think they can. I’m surprised they are trying. Tomorrow they begin the defense. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Thanks.”
The next evening Jessie called again. She seemed sad.
“Did something go wrong at the trial today?” I asked.
“No, I think it’s going well. They put Jeff and Elaine on the stand, and they told the same story. Then they called three character witnesses: Jeff’s partner, one of his college professors, and Sara’s brother. His partner told a story about one of their clients who refused to use Jeff as his accountant, because Jeff wouldn’t allow him to claim some questionable income tax deduction. His college professor talked about his commitment to the Big Brothers program while he was in college. Jeff taught a young teen to read and helped him get a GED after he dropped out of high school. Sara’s brother talked about how kind and gentle he was when she was sick. He told how he cared for her at home with the help of Hospice and a day nurse.”
“That sounds like the Mike I know.”
“Cara, I was so proud of the man they say he is, but the contrast between that man and the one who came by your house made me even more ashamed of what I have done to him.”
“Maybe it means he is more likely to listen to your story.”
“Somehow I doubt it.”
“I hope you have the opportunity to find out. Jessie, I have a confession to make. I wrote a note to Mike after you left the other night. I told him some of his assumptions about you were inaccurate, and I thought he should talk to you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. I just don’t have much faith in it happening.”
“What is the next step in the trial?”
“Tomorrow the attorneys do their closing arguments, and then it goes to the jury.”
“Are you going tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“I’m off in the morning. Would it be all right if I sneak in with you?”
We sat in the back of the balcony. The closing arguments were short and the jury deliberated less than an hour. They returned a verdict of not guilty to the charge of second-degree murder. They found Mike guilty of reckless homicide which carried a sentence of five years in prison with eligibility for parole in one year. He was taken into custody immediately after the verdict was given. Hugging George, Mary, Ellen, and Grace before walking away, he only glanced at Elaine, his expression cold. She sat alone as the courtroom emptied, staring at the door where he left.
“Jessie, I forgot to tell you. When Elaine called the other night looking for Mike, I told her about him coming by the house and finding you there. She said she would like to talk to you. Do you want to meet her? She looks like she could use a friend about now.”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to meet her. We have several things in common.”
“I have time for lunch. Do you?”<
br />
“Yes.”
Jessie waited in the foyer while I invited Elaine to join us for lunch.
“Hello, Elaine,” I said as I touched her on the shoulder. “You look lonely today. Was that your father with you on Tuesday?”
“Oh hello, Dr. Parker. Yes, that was my dad. He had to go to Columbus on business so he couldn’t be here today. He has been at the house since Saturday. I’m so grateful we have been reunited. I can’t imagine this without his support.”
“I’m relieved the jury didn’t find Mike guilty of murder.”
“Yes, I guess reckless homicide is as good as we could hope for under the circumstances. Still, it seems so unfair that Mike has to go to prison for what Greg and I did to him.”
“Elaine, I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with Jessie and me. You said you would like to talk to her.” Sensing her hesitation, I continued. “She really is a wonderful person, and I believe you both love Mike. She knows you’ve hurt him, and so has she.”
“What makes you think she loves him after what she did?”
“Things are rarely exactly as they seem. Why don’t you let her show you how she feels about him?”
“I guess I could.”
As we walked into the foyer, Jessie stepped forward, her hand extended. “I’m Jessie. Thanks for joining us, Elaine. Cara told me she believes you love Jeff, and I want you to know I do too.”
Elaine hesitated only a moment then took her outstretched hand. “I don’t know which one of us has hurt him more.”
“I’m beginning to realize I hurt him more than I imagined.”
“Dr. Parker told me I don’t know the whole story.”
“I’m willing to tell you, if you want to hear it.”
“I do.”
At the restaurant, I ate and listened while Elaine and Jessie moved their food around on their plates, talked, and ate very little. Jessie began her story, and with each word she seemed to fade as if someone had taken her photo into the sun. Her voice sounded hollow and empty—like a reporter describing footage she was watching on a screen. As I listened, I realized this was probably the first time Jessie had told this part of her story.
“The day I left home I bought a round-trip ticket, took a bus into the city, and walked ten blocks to an address I had been given. I took two hundred ten dollars in cash and a credit card. I paid two hundred dollars for an abortion and saved the other ten to take a cab back to the bus station after the procedure.”
Elaine’s eyes grew bigger. As comprehension dawned, she gasped, “But that was 1971.”
“Yes,” said Jessie. “It was illegal then. The address was a motel near downtown. There were two adjoining rooms. I waited with two other women in a room with a bed, sofa, and round table with four chairs. The other women appeared to be about my age, frightened, and poor. We stared at the dingy green carpet on the floor and didn’t make eye contact.”
“Weren’t you afraid?” Elaine asked.
“Yes, but I knew someone from work who had done it, and she didn’t really have a problem. I didn’t know all that could go wrong or I would have been a whole lot more afraid. I had heard that you were sometimes sterile afterward, but I actually wanted that. It never occurred to me that I might not survive.”
After the initial surprise, Elaine looked very sad. Tears welled up in her eyes as she listened to Jessie.
“Did they give you anything for pain?”
“No. As I waited I listened to the other women scream when they were taken to the room next door. I promised myself I wouldn’t scream, and I didn’t. I fainted. I don’t know how long I was out, but it seemed that I was in and out for a long time. I heard the bed in the next room squeaking and a woman moaning. Later I heard a man and woman arguing.
“When I came to, the room was dark even though the curtain was open. I called for someone, and a thin woman who smelled of smoke and whiskey came to me. She handed me a glass of orange juice and said, ‘Here, drink this.’ I did as she instructed, but it was rancid and made me sick. I must have gone back to sleep because I was awakened later with sun coming in the dirty window. The woman returned and told me to get dressed and get out. ‘I have to use this room,’ she said. ‘You’ve already been here too long.’
“After I was dressed she gave me some more juice, and I walked out into the hallway. I don’t remember anything else that happened for nearly a month. Cara was a medical student then, and one of the doctors who took care of me, so you see our relationship goes way back.” With that she smiled at me.
“Why did you do it?” Elaine asked.
As Jessie continued with her story, I noticed it seemed easier for her to tell it. This part I had heard. She looked sad but didn’t cry. She had carried the shame and guilt of having an abortion and kept the secret from her children for so many years, it appeared to lighten her burden to share it.
After Jessie paused, Elaine said, “So there never was another man?”
“No, never.”
“Then I don’t understand why you didn’t go home.”
At this point I excused myself and left Jessie telling Elaine about all the complications associated with what she had done.
Jessie called that evening to thank me for introducing her to Elaine. She bubbled into the phone, “We spent the whole afternoon together. She invited me to their home, and I got to see where Jeff lived, photos of their last vacation, a windjammer cruise to the Netherland Antilles, his awards from Big Brothers, and his restored 1966 Mustang in the garage. I like her, Cara, and I agree with you. I think she does love Jeff.”
“Are you going to see her again?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you to join us. Could you come for lunch next Saturday? Elaine is going to try to see Jeff at the prison this weekend, but she can come next Saturday.”
“Sure, I’d love to come.” Jessie was a marvelous hostess whose food always looked as good as it tasted. “What time?”
“Come at noon. Thanks again for today. My mind is racing but my body is exhausted; I need to get some rest, so I’ll get off the phone. Goodnight, Cara.”
“Goodnight.”
CHAPTER 13
Two days before the scheduled lunch with Jessie and Elaine, I got a letter from Mike.
Dear Dr. Parker,
Thank you for your note. I’m sorry for the way I acted in your home. Please forgive me. I was relieved to hear that you were as surprised as I to learn that your friend was my mother. Ever since Sara’s illness I have trusted your opinion. I guess I might not be in this mess if I had listened to you about the vasectomy. My mother hurt me when she left, and I didn’t think I would love anyone again. Without Sara I wouldn’t have. I have been thinking of her a lot in here. Anyway, I am interested in your comment that there is more to this than I know. I don’t want to forgive my mother, but I would like to understand what happened, especially since you seem to think it might help me. Elaine came to see me but I refused to see her, don’t want to hear her excuses, and don’t want to forgive her either. You have been more than my wife’s doctor. You were our friend. I know you are very busy, but if you could find time, would you call or come to see me?
Mike
As I tried unsuccessfully to sleep, I reread Mike’s letter in my mind. I was in the middle of this mess, and it was going to be difficult to be present for everyone who needed me and still protect doctor-patient confidentiality. I was going to need every listening skill I had. Relief came at four a.m. when the phone rang and I had to go for a delivery. If I can’t sleep, I might as well work, I thought.
Fortunately, this delivery was one any cab driver could have done. She was a delightful thirty-five-year-old woman, gravida 5, para 4, meaning five pregnancies and four deliveries. On her first prenatal visit she told me she ate toilet paper. Pregnant patients often eat strange things; for years Argo laundry starch was the most common. It usually meant that something was missing in their diet or their ability to absorb nutrients. When she to
ld me what she did, I said, “I would recommend that you eat white and unscented.”
In her wonderful, direct way, she said, “Dr. Parker, are you making fun of me?”
“No, I was just thinking that you should avoid the chemicals in dyes and perfumes.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I do confess that I’m amused at the unusual things pregnant women eat.”
This bit of information went into her prenatal record, which was copied and sent to the hospital to be available at the time of delivery. Part of routine admission orders called for an enema. That night as I sat at the desk making my notes, Ms. Short, a no-nonsense kind of nurse from the old school, came out of the bathroom after giving the enema and said, “I didn’t know whether to give her the whole roll or just a few sheets.” I needed that laugh.
The next two days were very busy, so I didn’t have much time to think about whether I would mention Mike’s letter at the luncheon. Jessie knew I had written to him, and it would be easy to explain to Elaine. It might be good to see what they thought about my visiting him.
I arrived on time and found Jessie dressed in black slacks with a rose-colored shirt, a deeper shade than her usual pink. Orange and yellow tulips adorned her table. Chicken salad made with red seedless grapes, celery, and walnuts was the main dish. It was served over avocado halves with whole wheat banana bread and a fruit cup on the side. The English would have been appalled to find Fortnum & Mason’s Royal Blend tea made into iced tea, but we Southerners love our iced tea, and Jessie’s was the best.
Elaine had not arrived so we drank tea on the screened porch while we waited for her. After thirty minutes we began to worry. We tried calling her home and got the answering machine. Thinking she was on the way, we waited a little longer.
Saving Jane Doe Page 16