“Judge!” he yells. “Objection! Whatever that is, it has not been properly introduced as evidence. The State has produced no murder weapon, and they’re not entitled to start waving things around the courtroom without prior disclosure—”
“Judge, we have no intention of doing anything that violates the court’s order.”
A tropical disturbance forms on Hempstead’s face. “Approach.” When they stand before her, she leans forward and says in a stage whisper, “Just what are you trying to pull here, Mr. Langley?”
“Nothing, Your Honor. We have no intention of asking Ms. Morrison whether or not this is the murder weapon. We merely want to establish that she has seen a comb like this in the possession of the defendants at one time or another.”
Sevillas barks out a short laugh. “Oh, right, Judge.” He holds out his arms expansively. “Let’s just wave it around—whatever it is—without laying any foundation or establishing a chain of custody. He hasn’t even shown it to the M.E. to ascertain if it even remotely resembles their alleged murder weapon. In the meantime, he’s prejudicing the hell out of my clients.”
Hempstead looks keenly at Langley. “Are you claiming that this object is in fact the murder weapon you say was found at the scene?”
“No, Your Honor, we’re not.”
“Have you found the object you’re claiming was used in the alleged murder?”
Langley shakes his head. “We haven’t exactly located it yet, but this comb is just like the one in Ms. Parkman’s possession.”
“And how do we know that?”
“Because we went to the same beauty parlor where Ms. Parkman got her hair done, and the stylist gave us this comb and told us it was exactly the same one she sold to the defendant.” He stops for breath.
Sevillas slaps a palm on the bench. “Your Honor, so what if he says this one is supposed to ‘look like’ whatever comb they say they found at the scene? The fact remains that they’ve produced no comb, and now they’re trying to prejudice my client by introducing this one into evidence through the back door. Our objection stands.”
Hempstead looks at the comb and clears her throat. “Mr. Sevillas, ordinarily I would sustain your objection as well-founded. If we were in front of a jury, I would agree that the possibility of prejudice is high indeed.” She turns to Langley. “However, we are not involved in a trial, but in an evidentiary proceeding. I am, as I have repeatedly stated, very capable of separating wheat from chaff without danger of prejudice. I will permit you to follow this line of questioning.” Langley’s face breaks into an expression of relief. “However, I will terminate this entire inquiry if you attempt—even once—to imply that the comb you have in your hand is in any way related to the injuries of Jonas Morrison.” She shakes a warning finger at him. “Are we clear?”
He nods vigorously. “Of course, Judge.”
Sevillas turns on his heel without even bothering to ac knowledge the judge’s ruling. He stalks back and throws his pen on top of his legal pad. Max’s face is still the same shade of powder white it was when Langley dropped the murder weapon. This time when Sevillas sits down it is Max who grasps his hand.
Langley returns to the witness box and thrusts the comb in front of her. “Ms. Morrison, I have here an object marked as Exhibit C, which I would appreciate your identifying.”
Marianne sees the comb at close range and clutches her throat. A small cry escapes from her. “Oh!” she gasps. “Is that—?”
Langley interrupts her quickly and firmly. “I must ask you not to make any comments unrelated to my specific questions about this object. Can you do that?”
Marianne flushes a pretty shade of pink. “Yes, well, I’ll try…”
“Ms. Morrison, what do you see before you?”
“Why, it’s a comb, Mr. Langley.”
“Have you ever seen a comb like this before?”
“I most certainly have.”
“Where?”
“I’ve seen one exactly like that at Maitland.”
“And whose was it, to your knowledge?”
“It was Danielle’s.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, she kept it in her purse, and I saw her use it on numerous occasions.” She turns to the judge. “She got a permanent wave right after she put Max in Maitland, Your Honor.” She pauses. “I saw her use it all the time.”
Langley walks slowly toward the defense table. He stops there and crosses his arms. “Ms. Morrison, I want to thank you for coming here today and giving us testimony that was difficult and painful for you. I just have one more question. Are you aware that part of the reason we’re here today is because Ms. Parkman has requested that she remain out on bail before her trial?”
Sevillas starts to his feet, but Hempstead is way ahead of him. “Mr. Langley, given that the defendant has clearly violated the terms of her bond, I hardly think that is still at issue here.”
“I have another reason for asking the question, Your Honor.”
Hempstead looks at Marianne and then at the lawyers. “Mr. Langley, this is where I draw the line. If the witness is planning to testify to facts about the alleged murder which are not in evidence in order to provide an opinion on bail—which Mr. Sevillas has correctly pointed out is not her decision to make—I can’t see how any opinion she would give is relevant.”
“Your Honor, this testimony has nothing to do with that. It relates to an event personally experienced by the witness which bears directly upon the proof-evident portion of this hearing.”
The judge gives him a skeptical look. “All right, I’ll let you begin, but the minute you try to slip anything under the door, I’ll cut you off so fast it’ll make your head spin. Understood?”
Sevillas shakes his head and sits down. Is there anything she won’t let in?
Langley takes a deep breath and turns to Marianne. “Now, Ms. Morrison, can you explain to the judge what you told me for the first time this morning?”
Marianne has been glued to this exchange like a tennis fan at the U.S. Open. “Yes, I certainly can. I hate to bring this up, Your Honor, but other than what has befallen my son—which is the tragedy of my life—Ms. Parkman has also said and done things to me that make me certain she is a dangerous and violent person.”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Sevillas bellows. “This is rank speculation, not fact. This line of questioning should be terminated immediately. It’s nothing but a gratuitous attempt to let the mother of the deceased get in another jab—”
“Mr. Sevillas!” Hempstead’s voice is harsh. “I hardly think it appropriate to characterize Ms. Morrison’s testimony as ‘getting jabs in.’ Don’t forget that she has recently lost her son in a most heinous fashion.”
“I know, Judge, but—”
“No buts.” She turns to Marianne and speaks in a kindly voice. “Ms. Morrison, I’d like to ask you about the underlying facts you are referring to, not the opinion you formed from them. Perhaps you can explain it to me, as the State seems incapable of clarifying that for you.”
“Well,” she says. “One day, right before the murder, Danielle and I were having dinner. She drank far too much vodka, so I offered to drive her home. When we got back to the hotel, she got out of the car and stumbled. She seemed disoriented and then, for no reason, she flew into a rage and started accusing me of lying about Max. She even had her arm raised to hit me—”
“Your Honor!” Sevillas can’t take any more. Furious, he strides to the bench. His voice is cold, measured. “This witness is lying!”
“Mr. Sevillas, stop immediately!” Hempstead cracks her gavel and gives him a livid glare. “There will be no testifying by counsel in my courtroom! You wait until cross—or until that elusive day when you can produce your other client—or I’ll hold you in contempt right now.”
Sevillas is beyond caring. The case is in the ditch. He turns to Marianne, his voice ice shards. “I will, Your Honor, but it is unconscionable that this woman would so blatantly lie and turn on a woman
who did nothing but show her the kindness of a friend—”
Marianne’s eyes blaze. “I never lie.” She turns to the judge and bursts into tears. “Her son killed my baby, Your Honor. Murdered him right in his own hospital bed. It’s too late for Jonas, but I know now—without a shadow of a doubt—that Max didn’t fall far from his mother’s tree.” She casts a beseeching look at the onlookers. “Oh, dear Lord, won’t someone help me?”
The judge’s face is contorted with wrath. She points her gavel at Sevillas. “You are now officially in contempt of this court. I will decide what happens to you after the hearing.”
Sevillas says nothing. He takes his seat and glares at Marianne.
“Now.” Hempstead puts her gavel down. “I am going to take over the questioning. Mrs. Morrison, I’d like you to tell me if Max Parkman ever threatened you with bodily harm.”
Marianne looks directly at the reporters in the front row. She turns back to the judge, her eyes a midnight blue. “One day, a week before the murder, I was on the sofa knitting a sweater for Jonas, and Max suddenly pulled something that glinted like metal from his pocket.”
The onlookers gasp and gape at Max. Tony clasps Max’s wrist until he sees his fist unclench. The judge nods soberly. “And then?”
Marianne’s eyes are as wide as plates. “Then he brandished it over my head.”
The judge tries to hide her shock. “Were you alone with Mr. Parkman when this happened?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Marianne shakes her head. “By the time I recovered from my shock, Max had run to a different part of the unit.”
“Surely you reported this.”
“Of course I did,” she says. “But apparently the video monitors were malfunctioning that day, and I had no real evidence to offer the staff. It was his word against mine.”
Hempstead’s eyes cloud. “Surely they believed you over a psychiatric patient?”
She shrugs sadly. “They searched throughout the unit, including Max’s room and his clothing. The item was nowhere to be found.”
“Did you tell his mother?”
“Of course I did.” Her white hand touches her forehead as if to quell a throbbing headache. “She said that I must have been mistaken.”
“Did you ask the staff to take additional precautions after this incident?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I did, but I don’t think they took me seriously.”
Hempstead nods and writes something slowly on her legal pad. She looks up at Marianne. “And after that?”
“After that,” Marianne says simply, “Max wasn’t violent with Jonas.” She gives the press another pained glance. “Until he murdered my son, that is.”
Langley jumps up before Sevillas can object. “Pass the witness.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Judge Hempstead turns to Sevillas. “Do you wish to cross-examine?”
Sevillas takes a last backward glance at the courtroom door. Max’s terrified eyes meet his. There’s no doubt now. Sevillas is on his own. “I certainly do, Your Honor.”
She looks at her watch. “I have four forty-seven. As it appears that this is taking much longer than anticipated, let me clarify the state of events for the record.” She turns to Langley. “The State has completed calling witnesses for today, correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Proceed, Mr. Sevillas.”
Sevillas approaches the witness. As he opens his mouth to ask his first question, there is a commotion behind him. All eyes turn as Danielle, dressed in an elegant suit, walks down the aisle. Doaks and Lieutenant Barnes—Doaks’s former partner on the force—follow in her wake. Max jumps up from the defense table and runs the few short steps to her. Danielle embraces him tightly. The joy in his face is electric, his eyes liquid with relief. “I’m here, honey,” she whispers. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” Max doesn’t bother to wipe the tears from his face as he sits down. Danielle bends for a brief kiss on Georgia’s cheek and meets Sevillas’s eyes. He looks angry but relieved. She walks toward the bench, but before she makes it to the bar, Judge Hempstead cracks her gavel. “Silence!” She regards Danielle and her entourage with ire. “And who might we have here?”
“Your Honor, I am Danielle Parkman.” She glances at Sevillas. His expression is somewhere between fury and relief.
Hempstead’s mouth is a razor slice. “Well, well, the phantom defendant. Approach, Ms. Parkman.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Bailiff,” Hempstead says curtly, “place Ms. Parkman in custody.”
“Judge,” protests Danielle, “please let me explain…”
Hempstead points the gavel at her. “I will do no such thing, Ms. Parkman. You are a criminal defendant in my court who has committed a felony by violating every condition of bond. You are hereby remitted to the county jail.” She turns to the bailiff. “Cuff her.”
Danielle catches Marianne’s satisfied look as the bailiff approaches, handcuffs in hand. “Your Honor, I understand your perfectly justifiable response to my actions, but I must move that I be permitted to cross-examine this witness. I have crucial evidence that goes directly to—”
Hempstead leans over her bench as the bailiff snaps the handcuffs on Danielle’s wrists. “I don’t care if you have evidence that the world is flat, Ms. Parkman. You are hereby remanded to be incarcerated until your trial. As an attorney and an officer of this court, you had full knowledge that your actions would lead to immediate revocation of your bond. What you do not appear to comprehend is that you, in addition to your son, are now also an accused felon who has flouted the laws of this state and the express orders of this Court.” There is steel in her voice. “You are not in New York, Ms. Parkman. You are in my courtroom under my jurisdiction.”
Sevillas casts her a look that says he is powerless. Max stares at her, petrified. The bailiff puts his hand on her shoulder. Danielle pulls back. “Judge, I move that I be allowed to appear before this court in my own defense.”
Hempstead gives her a poisonous look. “You are already represented by counsel.” She points at Sevillas. “Any questions posed on your behalf will be through your designated attorney.”
The bailiff grasps her arm. Danielle takes another step toward the bench, her voice firm. “Your Honor, I believe my counsel has a motion to make.”
Sevillas glances up in alarm. Danielle meets his eyes. After a moment he shakes his head.
“Apparently your counsel disagrees, Ms. Parkman.” She nods at the bailiff.
Danielle draws herself up. “Mr. Sevillas makes a motion to withdraw as my counsel, Your Honor.”
Hempstead looks at Sevillas with surprise. “Is that so, Mr. Sevillas?”
Sevillas stares bullets at Doaks, who nods vigorously from the front row. He locks eyes with Danielle. There it is—they click. Sevillas turns to Hempstead. “Your Honor, I respectfully move to withdraw as counsel for Ms. Parkman.”
A nanosecond elapses. “Motion denied.”
Sevillas and Danielle exchange a quick look before he turns back to the judge. “With all due respect, Your Honor, I’m afraid I must withdraw in any event.”
Hempstead’s eyes blaze. “Must I remind you that you are already in contempt of this court?”
“No, Your Honor.”
She turns to Danielle, her lips tight with fury. “I cannot force you to retain counsel, Ms. Parkman, but get one thing straight. The remainder of this hearing will be conducted in strict accordance with the law and the rules. The minute you cross the line, I’m going to shut this thing down. And don’t bother attempting to convince me you are worthy of bond. When the hearing is concluded, you go straight to jail. Your bond is hereby revoked.”
She turns to the bailiff. “Remove the handcuffs from Ms. Parkman.” The bailiff quickly inserts his key. Danielle rubs her wrists. “Now, place them on Mr. Sevillas and take him to the holding cell.”
“Your Honor—” says Danielle.
“Prepare to cross-
examine the witness, Ms. Parkman.”
Danielle watches helplessly as Sevillas holds up his wrists to be shackled and is led away. As she turns to the defense table, she catches another glimpse of Max. The fear in his eyes as Sevillas is marched away is not something she can do anything about—not yet.
“Ms. Parkman.” Hempstead’s voice is crisp, cold. “Proceed.”
Danielle turns and motions to Doaks, who struggles to the defense table with a large file box. Danielle removes the lid, extracts a sheaf of papers, takes a deep breath, and turns to the witness. “Ms. Morrison, I have a few background questions for you.”
Marianne eyes her confidently, her voice cool. “Of course, Ms. Parkman.”
“Where were you born?”
“In Pennsylvania.”
“Not Texas?”
“No.” Her eyes are clear.
“Where were you raised?”
She sighs. “My father was in the military. I was raised all over the United States.”
“Have you ever lived in Vermont?”
“No.”
“Florida?”
“No.”
“Illinois?”
The slightest beat of hesitation. “No.”
“Thank you.” Danielle flips through the documents. “Now, Ms. Morrison, how many times did you say you were married?”
She folds her hands primly. “Once.”
“To whom?”
“Raymond Morrison.”
“Never married before?”
“No.”
“Ever have other children?”
Her gaze is clear. “No.”
Danielle walks slowly to the witness box. “No other children, is that right?”
“Your Honor,” Langley whines. “Asked and answered. I do think Ms. Morrison would remember if she had any other children.” A titter ripples through the courtroom.
“I’ll be happy to move on, Judge,” she says. “Ms. Morrison, have you ever experienced any chronic physical conditions?”
Marianne fixes the judge with a pained look. “I’ve suffered from a variety of illnesses in my life. I haven’t spoken about it here because I think it’s inappropriate.”
Saving Max Page 29