Around eight o’clock that evening, Judge Kirkley called Mr. Gordon into his chambers. As Gordon pushed the door open, he immediately saw Duncan turn from the window. Judge Kirkley was sitting at his desk, and the expression on his face made Gordon’s blood run cold. Attempting to feign a confident air, Gordon bellowed, “Good evening, Your Honor. What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”
Without changing his countenance in the slightest, Judge Kirkley motioned to the empty chair opposite his desk. He didn’t say a word; he simply waited for Gordon to follow his instructions.
Gordon shot a quick glance toward Duncan, who simply kept his gaze on the judge. With a nervous tug at his suit coat, Gordon bluffed a “whatever” shrug and took his seat. The seconds seemed eternal as he waited for Judge Kirkley to say whatever was on his mind.
Duncan noticed a nervous twitch, as if Gordon were trying to push up an invisible pair of glasses on his nose. If he hadn’t been so angry, Mr. Duncan would have been tempted to feel sorry for him.
Slowly and deliberately, Judge Kirkley began explaining why he called this meeting. “Mr. Gordon, several days ago Mr. Duncan came to me with some serious allegations—the most serious being obstruction of justice.”
Gordon jumped to his feet. He began flailing his arms around, yelling threats and insults toward Duncan. He was desperately trying to play the wounded and offended victim when a loud, thunderous blast came from Judge Kirkley: “Gordon, shut up and sit down.”
The tone in the judge’s voice brought immediate silence to the room.
Gordon took his seat and stared expressionlessly at the judge.
With almost a whisper the judge then asked, “May I continue now?”
Gordon merely nodded.
“Gordon, I must advise you that for the past three days, I have been looking into some of these allegations and have found enough to warrant a full investigation.”
Gordon tried to protest, but the judge held up his hand and said, “Don’t even try, Mr. Gordon. I’m not going to waste time tonight listening to your explanations. Let me tell you what it looks like from this side of the judicial desk. I have a feeling your thirst for press coverage during this election campaign might have had a great deal to do with it. I suspect you thought you had a career-building, save-the-community kind of case. Then, after you blew it up larger than life, expecting to ride it right into the DA’s seat, you found your election ticket not only slipping out of your hands, but you were afraid of being exposed as the manipulating conniver you really are. You were willing to send that woman to prison in order to win that election, weren’t you? You’ve known for weeks she didn’t do it but you also knew that she wasn’t about to speak up, so you thought you were safe. But you didn’t count on the girl coming forward—not after you threatened her.”
Gordon sat there quiet and still. There was nothing he could say that would help right now.
Judge Kirkley began to discuss how they were going to proceed with this new information. “Duncan, I’m going to keep this trial moving forward, allowing you to call your next two witnesses before we break for four days. That will give you time to review the new information and prepare for putting the girl on the stand next Monday.”
Then, seeing Gordon’s reaction, Kirkley exploded, “Mr. Gordon, don’t even think about suggesting dropping the charges now. You’ve done your dead level best to destroy that woman. I suspect, at first anyway, you did think you had a murder case on your hands, but you and I both know that almost a month before this trial was scheduled to start you learned the truth.”
Gordon jerked his head up, and an instant of fear appeared on his face. Quickly regaining his composure, he started to defend himself, but again Judge Kirkley silenced him.
“Don’t bother denying it, Gordon. I have your phone logs. That was your defining moment—not now. You made a decision to suppress evidence for your greater good. You’ve sat in that courtroom just like me, hearing what those two women have had to endure in their lives, yet you kept going. I’m not going to allow you to drop the charges and make that woman live in this town with the cloud of doubt you put over her. We both know what this town would do to her. She deserves her day in court. We’re going to play this out.”
With a look that forced Gordon to turn away, Judge Kirkley laid his glasses on his desk and rubbed his tired eyes. “We have the best legal system anywhere in the world, but people like you could bring it to its knees with your dishonesty. This system will only work if the public believes in it. How many times can they see people like you abusing your position before they totally distrust its ability to serve them?”
Duncan quietly walked over and took the seat next to Gordon. He knew Judge Kirkley’s influence in this town. He knew this was not going to stop here.
The judge then turned his gaze to Duncan. “Under these circumstances, I intend to grant Mr. Duncan the greatest of latitude while questioning these last two witnesses”—he checked his witness list to confirm their names—“a Mrs. Gladys Carter and a Mrs. Ruth Bascom.”
Looking directly at Mr. Gordon, he chided, “I would seriously advise you to limit your objection during this testimony. You’re walking on very thin ice, and I suggest you tread lightly.”
At this point, Gordon knew the best thing he could do was keep as quiet as possible. Duncan, on the other hand, needed some additional reassurance from the court. “Your Honor, knowing you will be tied up with other matters on Thursday and Friday, may I ask the court to order the necessary search warrant for the bakery?”
With an understanding nod, Judge Kirkley responded, “Certainly.” Then, with an icy stare toward Gordon, he added, “I’ll also order forensic tests resulting from any findings at that location be forwarded to both counsel. Inasmuch as this search is necessary before we go beyond these next two witnesses, I intend to call the proceedings to a close at the lunch hour tomorrow. Mr. Duncan, can you be finished with these two witnesses by then?”
“Yes, Your Honor. That’ll give me the afternoon to explain all of this to Lisa’s family.”
“That’s good.” But feeling the need to issue one last warning while gathering his things to leave, Judge Kirkley turned to Duncan. “You do understand this mess is coming from both sides, don’t you?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I certainly do.” Duncan quickly acknowledged.
“Gordon isn’t the only one at fault here. Your client was also wrong, so don’t you come walking into my courtroom tomorrow with too smug a face.”
Duncan acknowledged this final warning with, “No, Your Honor.”
“All right, then. It’s late, and I’d like to have some time at home this evening. I’ll see you two in my courtroom tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”
Chapter 36
Wednesday morning was getting rather heated at Gladys Carter’s house. Bill, being filled in on what he had missed the day before, was having trouble keeping his own emotions under control. “I know I had no choice. If I hadn’t gone back to Atlanta, thirty-five people would have been out of work next month. These families depend on me to keep the work coming in, but I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for Susan. I’m not leaving again. This is too important, and the whole family needs to be here to support all of them, Lisa, Susan, and Scott. I can’t imagine how our son must have felt having to sit there hearing about all that abuse. All I can picture is someone trying to do that to our little Lisa Anne, and I actually feel sick to my stomach.”
“Our son knows you were doing what you had to do. I talked to both of them last evening. They’re both all right.”
“Well, I’m not.” Bill hadn’t had the time to digest this information the way Gladys and Caroline had. His emotions were raging at the image of Susan in that closet. “I should have done something. I knew something was wrong in that house. We had lots of clues. I feel like I let her down.”
“Bill, we all feel that way, but you have to remember, this happened back in 1960. There were so few laws to prote
ct children back then. This society has come a long way in changing the laws so children can have a voice.”
“I know, but the laws are still not strong enough. Children are not property. We need to find a way to get these children away from the likes of Chuck and Marjorie Miller. Sure, I feel sorry for Marjorie Miller. That woman suffered a lot, but she crossed the line. Somewhere in her sick head, her selfish need to protect herself turned her from being a victim into a victimizer. I don’t really care what her sad story is; it’s not an excuse. I’m tired of having this sickness passed on to second-generation victims. Their poor damaged past is no excuse for abusing children. Somehow, this society must put a stop to this.”
With a calming voice, Gladys interjected, “Bill, I don’t think Caroline is suggesting we excuse Marjorie’s behavior. It’s inexcusable. But if we’re ever going to stop this cycle, we must understand that these sick, abusing parents were most likely abused themselves.”
Gladys was the last person Bill thought would defend Marjorie Miller. “How can you say that? Why should we have to care why she is the way she is? Isn’t that making her not responsible?”
Trying to calm her brother down, Gladys suggested, “No, I don’t think so. If our society refuses to acknowledge that the abusive people we are contending with today are the result of sick parenting of the past, they’ll never seriously address the causes of bad parenting which continues. It’s not to give them an excuse, it’s to understand and stop it from continuing.”
Reluctantly, Bill admitted, “I guess even Marjorie Miller has a story—not that I care to hear it.”
Gladys smiled. “Nor I. We’re living too close to her damage, but she was once a child too. Someone should care why she turned out the way she did. Maybe that could help the next Marjorie from taking her same path.”
It was getting late, and they needed to get to court. Starting to laugh, Bill placed his arm around his sister and gave her a kiss as they headed out the door. “Gladys, after these past few days, hearing everything we’ve heard, only you could make me feel pangs of sympathy for a woman like Marjorie Miller. I’m not quite sure if I’m ready to stop hating her just yet, but I’m sure you’ll keep after me. You’re a good person, Gladys. Better than I.”
***
Everyone was seated in the courtroom promptly at nine o’clock. The family was eager to get on with the trial, sure that the worst was now behind them.
Mr. Duncan met with Lisa before coming into the courtroom. In one sense, things were falling apart for his client, but in another, everything was coming together. He understood the stress she was feeling but advised her, “I don’t want you to say anything, or act as if anything is going on until after Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Bascom testify. Lisa, these women’s testimony is critical. The jury is going to be asked to decide what kind of person you are. These women can tell them. We cannot drop this bombshell on Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Bascom just before they get up on that stand and t expect them to do a good job. This new information wouldn’t change their testimony, but it might make them seem confused. Do you agree?”
Lisa’s world was unraveling, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. “I’ll try. I thought the day I had to sit there and listen to my mother testify was hard. Today, having to sit there emotionless as if nothing is going on will be harder, but I’ll try.”
As planned, Mr. Duncan was able to get both Gladys and Ruth on the stand that morning. He carefully worded each question so their answers were always facts they knew to be true, rather than opinions or conclusions. He did not want to give Gordon anymore opportunities than absolutely necessary to raise an objection before the jury.
Gladys talked about meeting Lisa in the hospital after her drug overdose and jail time eleven years earlier. She told how Lisa and she attended alcohol and drug addiction support groups three times a week for the first two years and then how Lisa had become a group leader four years later.
She shared how hard it was for Lisa to get through each day that first year. How she would wake up at night with nightmares, and they would sit up the rest of the night talking so she could make it through. She explained how Lisa had chosen to hand over all of her hard-earned paycheck every Friday for the first two years. “You see, she wanted to help with the household expenses, but even more, she didn’t want to take even a single chance of being tempted to stray.”
The jury heard how much Lisa loved her sister and her children, especially Lisa Anne, and how hard Lisa had worked to make the children proud of her. Gladys never actually said to the jury that she was proud of Lisa, but she didn’t have to. The pride on her face as she talked about what this young woman had accomplished was unmistakable.
Mr. Duncan stood in front of the jury box so Gladys could look directly at them as she answered the last few questions. “Mrs. Carter, were you aware that Charles Miller was released from prison almost a month before that fateful night?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know whether Lisa was made aware of his release?”
“No, sir.”
“Mrs. Carter, during that month, did you detect any change in Lisa’s behavior? Any anger, change in routine, or suspicious behavior?” He knew Gordon wanted to object to this line of questioning but wouldn’t dare.
With great confidence, Gladys scanned the jury, allowing her eyes to move from face to face as she answered, “Absolutely not. She was calm, happy, and looking forward to her first trip to Savannah. She and I were going to spend a whole week at my son’s place at the shore. We’d been planning it for almost three months.”
Stepping closer to the witness box, Duncan asked his last question. “Mrs. Carter, will you please tell this court who you think Lisa Miller is?”
Gordon could remain silent no longer and was on his feet. “Your Honor, I object. Mrs. Carter is not an expert in human behavior. Her opinion is simply that, an opinion.”
Duncan started to respond, but seeing the look on Judge Kirkley’s face, decided to remain quiet. The judge leaned over toward Gladys, studying her face for a moment, and then said, “I think I’ll allow it. More than ten years of personal experience should qualify her to answer that question. Mrs. Carter, you may answer.”
Gladys turned toward the jury and took a deep breath. “I know Lisa Miller to be a strong, wonderful, loving woman. She has fought back from the very brink of self-destruction and self-loathing. As you have heard, this woman suffered horribly at the hands of her father, but I do not think she deliberately intended to kill him. I’ve watched her grow to appreciate herself, accept love from others, and learn to trust people again. She has become a woman I would proudly call my daughter. There’s no way she would have done anything to throw that away.”
Stepping back to his seat, Duncan announced, “I have no other questions,” and Gordon wasn’t about to ask any. Aunt Gladys gave Lisa a reassuring smile as she took her seat next to Susan.
Duncan then called Ruth to the stand. As she came forward and was sworn in, the jury studied her confident air. She was a black woman appearing to be in her mid-seventies, was well dressed and sure of herself. Lisa noticed several puzzled glances from the jury as if wondering where this black woman fit into all of this. Lisa let out a little chuckle as she thought, She fits just fine, just you wait. She’ll show you.
Duncan decided to remain seated beside Lisa as he questioned Mrs. Bascom. He wanted to connect her and his client, just as her testimony was going to do. “Mrs. Bascom, will you please tell this court what you do for a living?”
With great pride in her voice, Ruth looked directly at the most senior juror. “I own and operate the bakery where Lisa has been employed for the past ten years.”
“Can you tell the court what brought you to hire someone with Lisa’s record?”
With a quick smile toward Gladys, Ruth gladly told her story. “Gladys Carter and I go way back. We’ve been friends for more than fifty years. Our husbands worked together at Hastings Furniture Factory up in Atlanta. Gladys�
��s husband, Karl, was the one who loaned me the money to start my bakery here in Jefferson the year after my husband passed. Everyone who knew me knew I could bake, but when I couldn’t find a single bank willing to take a chance on me, Karl put a mortgage on his house and got me started.”
Lisa spun around in her seat and stared at Gladys. She was amazed that she never had heard that story. Gladys sat there smiling. She was obviously proud of Karl.
Ruth continued. “Anyway, I struggled at first. It’s one thing to know how to turn out a beautiful pie, but it’s another thing running a business, especially for a black woman in the white business district. I worked hard, took some business classes, and made it work. I paid Karl back every single penny. Gladys and I have been part of the same church for years. We were both widows and enjoyed each other’s company. That’s how I heard about Lisa. Gladys told me she was thinking about inviting this girl into her home, but I didn’t like it. I was afraid for her. The girl was dreadful. She couldn’t say one sentence without using foul language. Besides, she was on drugs, and I was scared she would hurt Gladys.
“Well, Gladys didn’t listen to me or her son. She wanted to help this girl and wanted me to help her, too. At first I said no, but Gladys kept after me and wore me down. I agreed to hire her, but only in the back kitchen at first. You see, when she first came to work, everyone had to walk very gently around her because she had a flash temper and a sailor’s tongue.”
Officer Jackson looked over at Susan when Mrs. Bascom made this comment and gave her an embarrassed little shrug. Susan let a little chuckle escape but quickly returned to a more serious demeanor.
Duncan interjected, “Mrs. Bascom, did you have trouble with Lisa?”
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