The guard noticed my confusion and asked if he could help.
“I thought the hearing for Eric Odjik was supposed to be up now,” I whispered while the judge read out the charges.
The man scanned the list attached to his clipboard. “I don’t see his name. Are you sure his show cause hearing is this afternoon?”
“His lawyer told me it was. Could it have been changed at the last minute?”
“It sometimes happens. Let me check the dockets for the other courtrooms.” He leafed through other pages. “Here it is — upstairs in courtroom three. Eric Odjik … the name’s familiar. Isn’t he the man charged with the killing at Digadeh?”
I mumbled, “Yes.”
“That explains it. Bail hearings for prisoners charged with murder are held in front of a superior court judge. The cases being heard in this courtroom are for lesser charges and are in front of a justice of the peace. You his wife?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued on. “You better hurry. It’s likely started. Take the elevator to the second floor. It’s the first door on the right. Tell the deputy-sheriff in charge I sent you.”
With a hasty thank you I fled out the door, worried that the hearing would be over by the time I arrived. The wait for the elevator didn’t help, but with no stairs in sight, I was forced to watch the seconds tick by. Finally one arrived and up I went.
I was so annoyed at Sally for not telling me and myself for not asking that by the time I reached the door to the right courtroom, I forgot that I needed to be quiet. I opened it with too much force and stepped inside with too much noise. Every eye in the room, including Eric’s, swivelled in my direction. If the floor had suddenly opened up in front of me, I would gratefully have jumped in. Instead I smiled apologetically at my husband, gave him a nervous wave, and tiptoed to the closest empty seat.
For a second his face lit up, then it turned to stone. Hunching his shoulders forward, as if trying to hide, he twisted around to face the judge. Oh my poor, dear, sweet Eric. He wasn’t angry at me. He was embarrassed. He hadn’t wanted me to see him defeated, because defeat was all I read in his posture. Normally he held himself so confidently and proudly, ready to take on whatever challenge life flung at him. But not this time. It was as if he had given up.
I could feel the tears seeping down my cheeks. I brushed them away.
Eric, I won’t let this happen to you. You may have given up, but I haven’t.
TWENTY-four
I straightened my shoulders and sat more upright, daring anyone to call my husband a killer. But no one paid any more attention to me.
All eyes were trained on the judge, a man of about the same age as Eric, midfifties, with the same amount of grey in his black hair, except it was trimmed to a short judicial length and not flowing over his shoulders like my husband’s. Wearing black robes with a red border and red cuffs and a matching red vest, he towered above the rest of the courtroom, behind the elevated bench bookended by two lower stands in the same dark-brown wood. Directly below him sat the court reporter. On his left was the jury stand, empty for this hearing. I hoped I would never see it occupied. The richness of the wood lent this courtroom the aura of authority that was more in keeping with my image of a judicial court than the plastic and metal of the courtroom below.
In front of him, at the table to his right, sat Eric’s defence team, Sally and Derrick, both appropriately garbed in their black robes. Sally was standing, expounding on some technical point. One of the Crown prosecutors sitting at the other table seemed more focused on his laptop, while the other leafed through sheets of paper.
And Eric, my poor, sweet, innocent Eric, sat all alone behind them in a glass-enclosed booth. This, above everything else, finally drilled into me the direness of his situation. I was still trying to absorb the enormity of this prisoner box after my initial shock. At least he wasn’t wearing prisoner orange.
The rows of spectator seats were for the most part occupied. I was surprised to recognize Reggie sitting a few rows back from the front. Was he here to ensure that his rival stayed in jail? Or should I be more charitable and say that he had come to offer moral support?
Josh and others I took to be his media buddies sat at the end of my row and the one in front. The CBC journalist acknowledged my presence with a nod and nudged the woman beside him. Her stare was so penetrating that I jerked my eyes back to the front and wondered how in the world I was going to escape her microphone. A casually dressed man with black plugs in his earlobes was curled over a sketchpad, drawing. No doubt a likeness of Eric would be appearing on the front pages of the nation’s papers tomorrow.
Given the number of journalists present, Sally had better have an escape plan. No way did I want my husband to spend his first minutes of freedom being hounded by the pack.
Sally finished speaking and sat down. I expected the Crown to rise to give their side and was surprised when they remained seated. All eyes were on the judge. Ignoring us, he riffled through some papers. It looked as if I had arrived at the end of the hearing. Eric remained rooted to his chair, shoulders hunched in dejection. He didn’t glance at his lawyer when she sat down. Instead I sensed his body tense in expectation. I willed him to turn around so I could give him a smile of hope. But he remained facing forward, away from me and everyone else in the courtroom.
Finally, the judge stopped reading and looked up.
“I will give my decision in three days. Meanwhile, Eric Odjik remains in custody. The court is adjourned.”
In a swish of black silk, he strode through the judges’ door, followed by the clerk, who firmly closed the door behind them.
“No!” I shouted.
I pushed my way through the departing crowd, intent on getting to my husband. By the time I reached the front, he was shuffling through the prisoner door, sandwiched between two guards. Before he vanished completely, he stopped, forcing his guards to stop. He scanned the courtroom and eventually found me. Once again his eyes lit up with love and, he smiled, but not enough to reveal his dimples. He shrugged as if to say “I’m sorry” and was gone behind the closing door. Only then did I realize the cause of his constrained movements. My poor, dear sweet Eric was still shackled, like a dangerous criminal. Something inside of me twisted.
Barely able to hide the despair in my voice, I asked Sally, “Why didn’t the judge let him go?”
“Let’s get out of here. I need a coffee.”
Using her briefcase as a battering ram, she shoved her way through the throng with me at her heels and Derrick acting as our rear guard.
An arm reached out to stop me. “Meg, I’m so sorry.” I read sympathy in Reggie’s face, not triumph. Maybe I’d judged him too harshly. “I wasn’t expecting this. None of us were. I and a number of other chiefs had even given his defence attorney character statements.”
“Thanks.”
“Please, don’t despair. I’m sure this is just a momentary hiccup. He’ll be out on bail in three days’ time.”
“You’d better be right.”
“Look, if there’s anything I can do, let me know. You’re probably in need of some friendly company. Why don’t you come for dinner tonight? I need to check with Tony first to make sure we’re free. I know she would love to have you.”
Yeah, right. “Thanks, but I need to be with Teht’aa. She has finally come out of the coma, so I should be with her as much as I can, particularly now that it will be another three days before her father can be with her.”
“That’s wonderful news … about the coma, that is. Does she remember much?”
“Her mind is pretty hazy, but I expect within a day or two she’ll be back to her old self.”
“Terrific. When do you think she’ll be up for some visitors?”
“I imagine as soon as she is moved from ICU. I’ll let you know. Oh, and thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“I’m gla
d she liked them. One thing I’ll say about Teht’aa: she doesn’t hesitate to speak her mind. She’s good at reminding me of my duties as Tlicho Grand Chief. Whenever she has some burning issue, she’s on my case.” He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy her sparring. She’s even managed to convince me to change my mind, like this latest business about mining on Tlicho territory. I don’t suppose you know where she is with her investigation, do you?”
“Investigation?”
“Yeah, into the mining industry. A hot topic around here, when a good portion of NWT jobs depend on it.”
“Sorry, I’ve no idea.”
“I see your lawyer waving to you from the door. You’d better get going. And don’t forget, anytime you want a reprieve, drop by our place.” He passed me his business card. “The address is on the back.”
I pushed my way to Sally waiting next to the courtroom door, all but blocked by the people streaming through it.
“Hang on to me and keep your head down,” she ordered. “And your mouth shut. Not one single word, you hear.”
I hung on to her robe as she rammed her way through the crowd. Lights flashed. Reporters shouted. “Mrs. Odjik, is your husband guilty?” a female voice cried out.
“Outside, everyone,” a male voice yelled. “You know you’re not supposed to conduct interviews inside the courthouse.”
Two deputy sheriffs brushed past me and started moving everyone from the hallway.
“Where’s your car?” Reggie asked.
“Out front on the street,” I replied.
“Mine’s out back. Follow me.”
I grabbed Sally’s arm.
“Come on, we’re going this way.”
He led the three of us across the lobby to a door that was being unlocked by a deputy sheriff. We fled through it and down an empty hallway. A woman’s whining voice drifted out to us as we scurried past an open doorway. We kept walking to the end of the hall and down a stairwell to emerge outside with, thankfully, not a reporter in sight.
“I can take you to wherever you’re going. You can come back later to pick up your car.”
“Thank you, Reggie,” Sally answered. “You’re very kind, but we can take it from here.”
The three of us watched his champagne-coloured Jeep turn the corner before Sally spoke up. “A good way to escape the mob. He was so intent on helping us that I didn’t want to let on I was already coming this way. Men. You gotta let them think they’re on top. You never know when they’ll come in handy.” She chortled.
Derrick pretended he hadn’t heard.
I ran to catch up to the two lawyers as they walked toward Sally’s rental parked halfway down the street.
TWENTY-five
“So what in the hell happened?” I wrenched the teabag out of the teapot a little too vigorously, splattering hot tea over the table and me. “I thought it was a simple matter of rubber-stamping Eric’s release.”
Apart from an elderly bald man hunched over his beer at the bar, the three of us were sitting in an empty café a goodly distance from the courthouse, well out of range of prying media.
“It was never a sure thing,” Sally answered after taking a lingering sip of a foamy latte. She pulled her smartphone from her purse and placed it face up on the table.
Derrick mumbled agreement as he poured beer into a glass.
“So why did you lead me to believe it was?”
“I didn’t want you getting all depressed on me.” She scrolled through her messages.
“Screw that. I want you to tell me exactly what’s going to happen to my husband.”
“My apologies, but to tell you the truth I wasn’t too certain myself which way this judge would go. He’s a tough-on-crime judge, but he sympathizes with the local indigenous population and will verge on the point of leniency when their cases come before him. I’m still holding out that he’ll release Eric.”
“I imagine the earlier criminal charges are a factor in the delay, wouldn’t you say, Sally?” Derrick added, after taking a similarly lingering sip of his beer.
“But that was years ago, when Eric was barely out of his teens,” I interjected. “He’s been the poster boy for upstanding citizenry ever since.”
“Not quite.” Her cell buzzed. She read the message before continuing, “He has a more recent arrest for DUI but was never formally charged. Ah, I see you didn’t know about this one, either.”
Not only did I not know, but he was supposed to be the one who could handle his liquor. “When did this happen?”
“Twelve years ago.”
Good, before I knew him. “But if he was never charged, isn’t that supposed to mean it never happened?”
“Unfortunately, the arrest record is still there. But I doubt these arrests are causing the delay. I imagine it’s the flight risk, given the seriousness of the charge. You see, murder charges are treated differently from other charges. The onus is on the defence to prove why the defendant should be released, unlike lesser charges, for which the onus is on the crown to prove why the defendant should not be released.”
“So what are the chances the judge will come down in favour of letting Eric go?” I asked.
“I wish I could be more optimistic, but I think it’s fifty-fifty. What do you think, Derrick?” She scanned another message and tapped in a response.
“You’re the boss, Sally. You’ve been through this many times before. But since you’re asking, I believe if Eric’s official residency were the Territory, Justice Demarco wouldn’t hesitate to decide in his favour. But since his official residency is several thousand kilometres away, with little to prevent him from leaving on the next plane other than the guarantee of Joseph Bluegoose, who isn’t even a relative, I agree with you. Though I might nudge it up to sixty-forty, given the number of testimonials we were able to get from some key people with NWT residency.”
Sally’s cell dinged again. Glancing at the message, she said, “Now if there is nothing else, I need to get back to Vancouver.”
“Aren’t you going to be here when the judge gives his decision?”
“Derrick will be attending. My presence isn’t needed. We’ve done all we can at this point.” Her phone buzzed again. She scanned it before rising from her chair. “Now I really must be going. Meg, I’ll drive you back to the courthouse to retrieve your car. The media should be gone by now.”
“I thought you were going to tell me more about the case against Eric.” I remained seated. I didn’t care if she had other things going on. Right now she was working for Eric and for me.
“Normally we can’t discuss cases to protect client confidentiality, but your husband gave his approval to share everything with you. Derrick knows as much as I do, so he can bring you up to date.” She dashed off to pay our bill.
“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what you know,” I shouted after her.
“Look, Mrs. Odjik, I can bring you up to date,” Derrick said. “She has a big trial starting tomorrow and needs to get back to Vancouver.”
After paying the bill she headed to the exit.
“I don’t care. I’m probably paying for her time until she gets on that damn plane, so I want to hear from her.”
“Are you coming?” she called out, holding the door open.
“What time does your plane leave?”
“In two and a half hours.”
“Okay, I’m going with you to the airport. Two hours should be enough time for you to bring me up to date.”
“But I need to … okay, all right. It can wait. I’m yours until boarding time. Now let’s get going.”
At my insistence, she drove straight to the airport, rather than making the detour to pick up the car. She, with contributions from Derrick, recounted everything they had learned from my husband.
The day the police had finally identified Teht’aa, Eric h
ad been on a hunting trip with friends and didn’t learn of the attack until he returned to his hotel in the evening. Both lawyers mentioned the emotion in his voice as he recounted the first sight of his daughter lying deathlike on the hospital bed, her head and face hidden by bandages, connected by wires to a plethora of machines. At that point the doctors were giving her a 50 percent chance of survival.
My poor, poor Eric. How awful for you that you had to face your dying daughter alone. I should’ve been with you. I would’ve come, if only you’d let me know. But maybe you did call, I thought as an image of my phone’s blinking message light came into focus. Maybe you tried several times and anxiously awaited my return call, a call that never came. While I, too afraid to let the world in, pretended that the message light wasn’t blinking.
According to Sally, Eric believed from the outset that Frank was the culprit. I learned for the first time that during an earlier visit he’d found his daughter trying to cover up bruises on her face with makeup. Though she refused to admit she’d been hit, he’d seen enough battered women to know the signs. In the past he wouldn’t have hesitated sharing this with me, but not this time. I had little doubt that this was another example of his wanting to shield me. I wondered how many other burdens my husband had carried alone in the past months. And I was too blind to notice.
Well, Meg, Ms. Harris, Mrs. Odjik, Margaret, whatever you want to call yourself, it’s time to stop being so damn selfish. Time to stop thinking only about yourself. Time to stop letting The Nightmare rule your life and Eric’s. Time to start being an equal partner in this marriage.
From Sally I learned that Eric had gone straight to Frank’s apartment after leaving the hospital. Failing to find him there, he spent much of the night roaming the streets of Yellowknife, checking bars and other likely spots for the man or for information on his whereabouts.
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