Abuse of Discretion

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “No, we usually text.”

  “Did Graylin text you after he left your house that day?”

  “Probably.”

  “Did he mention taking a picture of Kennedy?”

  “Nope.”

  “When was the next time you saw Graylin?”

  “The next day in first period.”

  “Did he mention taking a picture of Kennedy?”

  “No.”

  “And when you saw him in the cafeteria at lunchtime, did he tell you that he had a picture of Kennedy?”

  “No.”

  “Did he tell you anytime that day that he had a picture of Kennedy?”

  “No.”

  “Did he tell you anytime on Thursday that he had a picture of Kennedy?”

  “No.”

  “What about before your algebra test on Friday? Did Graylin tell you then that he had a picture of Kennedy?”

  “No.”

  “So if Graylin had taken a picture of Kennedy after school on Tuesday, do you think he would’ve waited all the way until Friday to show it to you?”

  This time Sullivan interrupts. “Objection, calls for speculation.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Probably not,” Crayvon says, not understanding the objection.

  “Young man,” the judge says, “if I say an objection is sustained, that means you shouldn’t answer the question.”

  “Okay, sorry.”

  “Did you ever tease Kennedy about being skinny?”

  He scratches his jaw. “Sometimes, but I was only playing around.”

  “Did you ever tease her about wearing a weave?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “Did you ever call her stuck-up?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Did you ever tell LaShay that you wanted Kennedy to be your girlfriend?”

  “No. I already have a girlfriend.”

  “It made you mad that Kennedy rejected you, didn’t it?”

  Crayvon’s nose twitches and his lips protrude. “No! I didn’t like her. Nobody likes her. She thinks she’s better than everybody else because her parents have lots of money.”

  Jenny walks over to the defense table and lifts a few pages of her legal pad. She’s not looking up anything in particular. She wants Crayvon’s heated words to hang in the air.

  “Did a girl at your church named Nedra Johnson accuse you of putting your hand under her dress?”

  This question catches both Crayvon and Sullivan off guard.

  Crayvon’s head whips back. “That was—I was—she lied on me.”

  “So did you put your hand under her dress?”

  He briefly averts his eyes, making him look like the liar that he is. “No, I didn’t!”

  Sullivan finally snaps out of her fog. “Objection, Your Honor. Asking this witness about an unfounded allegation is far more prejudicial than probative. I move to strike the witness’ answer and request an instruction to the jury.”

  “Sustained.” Judge Lipscomb glances over at the jurors. “The jury should disregard the young man’s response.”

  I smile. Sullivan’s late objection was a gift to us. The stammering denial from Crayvon makes him look like the pervert that he is.

  “Did you ever go into Kennedy’s backyard and take a picture through her bedroom window?”

  “No, I did not.” This time, he looks more convincing.

  “Do you have a Snapchat account?”

  “I used to. But my mama made me get off Snapchat after what happened to Graylin.”

  “Did you ever send a naked picture of Kennedy to Graylin on Snapchat?”

  “No!”

  “You didn’t want to see the picture Graylin was trying to show you because you were the one who sent it to him, isn’t that correct?”

  “No, it’s not!”

  “You were the one who left that anonymous note in the administration office, weren’t you?”

  His eyes expand and he’s on the verge of tears. “No! I told you I had nothing to do with it!”

  Jenny backs off and asks him about his grades. At first I’m stunned, then I get it. If Crayvon starts crying, the jury’s likely to feel sorry for him. I’m glad that Jenny’s doing the cross. She asks a few more benign questions, then moves on to motive.

  “When is the last time you saw your father?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you close to your father?”

  “Not really.”

  “Is Graylin close to his father?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did Graylin’s father”—Jenny turns to smile at Gus, who we positioned one row behind the defense table today—“often take you along when he took Graylin out?”

  Crayvon shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Where did Gus take you two?”

  “The movies.”

  “And where else?”

  “The park and fishing and stuff like that.”

  “Didn’t Graylin’s father buy him a leather jacket and get you one too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re jealous of Graylin because he’s close to his father, aren’t you?”

  Crayvon’s anger resurfaces like a high tide. “I’m not jealous of him! At least my father’s not an ex-con!”

  Jenny stifles a smile. Crayvon couldn’t sound more envious if we’d written him a script. She walks back to her notes, waits a long beat, then turns to the judge.

  “Your Honor, I have no more questions for this witness.”

  CHAPTER 78

  Angela

  Jenny and I are standing at the defense table during a break when Sullivan walks over.

  “We’re dropping the criminal threat and distribution charges,” she says, in the same tone she might use to tell us what she had for lunch.

  This is good news, but not quite good enough. “The witness intimidation and invasion of privacy charges should go too?” I say. “There’s no evidence to support them either.”

  Sullivan shrugs. “Those stay.”

  I feel like an angry bull taunted by a flash of red. She’s produced no evidence showing Graylin took the picture of Kennedy. Nor has any witness credibly tied Graylin to the threatening call Kennedy received. The only reason she’s not dropping the witness intimidation charge is because without it, Judge Lipscomb would no longer have jurisdiction over this case and we’d be kicked back to juvenile court.

  “You must get some kind of perverse pleasure playing with people’s lives,” I say. “Both you and Martinez knew you couldn’t prove the witness intimidation charge from day one. Graylin has no business in adult court.”

  “He’s here because the judge found him unfit as a result of his own conduct. Don’t blame that on me.”

  Yes, Graylin’s outrageous behavior landed him here, but we never would’ve gotten to that point if they hadn’t added the bogus witness intimidation charge in the first place.

  I take a step into Sullivan’s personal space. “How do you sleep at night? You can’t just—”

  Jenny slips between us. “Thanks for the heads-up,” she tells Sullivan as she drags me out of the courtroom and into the hallway.

  My eyes well with tears. It’s not like me to behave that way toward an opposing counsel. The stress is getting to me.

  “Please chill,” Jenny says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “You’ve been kicking butt. No matter how many games the prosecution plays, we’re still winning.”

  I only wish I had Jenny’s confidence.

  When court resumes, Sullivan rests her case and I make my perfunctory request for a directed verdict. I ask the judge to dismiss the remaining charges—possession of child pornography, witness intimidation and invasion of privacy—arguing that t
he prosecution hasn’t met its burden of proof. As expected, the judge denies the motion and we break for lunch.

  We all gather at a sandwich shop, where I tell Gus and Graylin about two of the charges being dropped. Graylin’s thrilled and more convinced than ever that he’s going to win. Gus, however, understands the significance of Sullivan’s refusal to drop the witness intimidation charge and he’s livid. But like Jenny, he also thinks we’re ahead.

  When it’s time to return to court, Jenny tries to cheer me up. “Let it go. Sullivan hasn’t met her burden and she knows it. We scored some major points with Crayvon today.”

  “What major points?”

  “What fourteen-year-old boy who takes a naked picture of his classmate is going to wait three days, or even two days, if you believe Taisha’s timeline, to show it to his best friend. If that doesn’t raise reasonable doubt, I don’t know what will.”

  I can’t help being Debbie Downer. “That helps us with the invasion of privacy charge, and the witness intimidation allegation is weak, but there’s still the possession charge.”

  “If that jury thinks Crayvon took the picture and sent it to Graylin, they’re not going to find him guilty of possession either.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  By the time the jury is called back in, it’s well after one o’clock. The judge directs me to call my first witness. We only have three. Taisha’s foster mother, Graylin’s minister, and one of his teachers.

  Betty Taylor does an excellent job of explaining that her foster daughter’s excessive lying is a cry for attention. Next, Graylin’s science teacher calls him one of the best students she’s had in her twenty-plus years of teaching. For almost fifteen minutes, Reverend Ball praises Graylin as a real leader and a blessing to his church. I’m about to move on to the allegation that Crayvon stuck his hand underneath Nedra Johnson’s dress when the courtroom doors burst open with a loud bang.

  Mama Baker storms down the center aisle, dragging her granddaughter LaShay by the forearm.

  “The devil is a lie! The devil is a lie!” she yells. “Mama Baker don’t raise no heathens!”

  Judge Lipscomb bangs his gavel. “What the hell? Order in the court! Order in the court!”

  “Judge,” Mama Baker says, waving her free hand, “we need to talk because Mama Baker don’t raise no heathens. My granddaughter needs to get back up on that witness stand. And the sooner the better!”

  Mama Baker is about to step into the well of the courtroom when the slow-moving bailiff jogs over and blocks her path.

  “I need to talk to the judge,” she says. “Because the devil is a lie!”

  Judge Lipscomb looks as flustered as the bailiff. “Ma’am, you can’t interrupt a court proceeding like this. Please leave my courtroom.”

  “I prayed on this all night, judge, and this is what the Lord told me to do.”

  “Get the jury out of here!” Judge Lipscomb says to the bailiff. “Ma’am, please don’t say another word.”

  The bailiff is still standing guard over Mama Baker. He seems uncertain about leaving her unsupervised. He yells across the courtroom. “I need the jurors back in the jury room.”

  The jurors snicker as they file through the door behind the jury box. Once they’re gone, the judge erupts.

  “Ma’am, this is highly inappropriate! You can’t disrupt my courtroom like this. I just may find you in contempt of court.”

  “That’s good and well, but you should know that Jesus is the only judge I fear. My granddaughter didn’t tell the truth up there on that witness stand. And I can’t let that be. She needs to redo her testimony because Mama Baker don’t raise no heathens.”

  LaShay cowers behind her grandmother, her face wet with tears.

  The judge is at a loss for words. He’s obviously never had to face anyone like Mama Baker before.

  “I’d like to see counsel and Mrs. Baker in my chambers. Now!”

  CHAPTER 79

  Angela

  When we finish listening to what Mama Baker has to say, everybody in Judge Lipscomb’s chambers is flabbergasted.

  The judge orders Mama Baker back to the courtroom. He looks at Sullivan, then at Jenny and me. “How would you like to proceed?”

  “I’d like to request a mistrial,” Sullivan says in a voice stripped of emotion.

  “We don’t want a mistrial,” I say. “We want a dismissal.”

  Sullivan hesitates. “What we just heard doesn’t impact all of the charges.”

  “Then let’s proceed,” I say, more fired up than ever. “I’d like to recall LaShay to the witness stand right now. I can finish up the reverend later.”

  The judge shakes his head. “In my twenty-three years on the bench this is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He gives us ten minutes to talk to Gus and Graylin, who also don’t want a mistrial.

  “What did LaShay’s granny say, Ms. Angela? Did she tell the judge Crayvon and Taisha lied on me?”

  “Hold on. You’ll find out everything in a second.”

  I start scribbling down notes for my cross-examination of LaShay. I don’t have time to write down complete questions, so I jot down key words as reminders of the areas I want to cover. I pass my legal pad to Jenny. She peruses it then scribbles down another topic for me to address.

  Judge Lipscomb calls the jury back in and LaShay walks to the jury box. The judge reminds her that she’s still under oath. The little girl’s eyes are puffy and red and it appears that she’s been crying for some time.

  “LaShay, when you testified in this courtroom yesterday, did you tell the truth?” I ask.

  Her head is bowed so low that her chin grazes her chest. “No, ma’am,” she sniffs.

  “Are you ready to tell the truth now?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you know who took the naked picture of your friend Kennedy Carlyle?”

  LaShay nods.

  “I’m sorry, LaShay. Nodding your head won’t work. You’ll need to speak up so the jury and the court reporter can hear you.”

  “Um, yes, I know.”

  “Please tell the jury who took it.”

  “I did.”

  The collective gasp is so loud it sounds like the courtroom is equipped with surround sound. I wait for the commotion to die down before continuing.

  “And why did you take a naked picture of Kennedy?”

  “Because she asked me to.”

  Mrs. Carlyle jumps to her feet. “That’s a lie! You framed that boy, and now you’re trying to frame my baby!”

  The bailiff trots over to Simone just as Mama Baker revs up.

  “The devil is a lie!” she yells from the front row. “The truth shall set you free. Go ahead, baby. Bare your soul. Jesus loves you.”

  The judge bangs his gavel and points it first at Mrs. Carlyle, then at Mama Baker. “If I hear a peep from either one of you, you’re out of here!”

  While Mama Baker sits taller in her chair, Simone slumps back to the bench. The bailiff remains standing in the middle of the aisle, an arm’s reach away from both of them.

  I move closer to the witness box, hoping to make LaShay feel more at ease.

  “So why did Kennedy ask you to take a naked picture of her?”

  “She wanted to get back at Graylin for not liking her. She knew he would get in trouble if he had a naked picture of her. She also thought her parents might get back together if something bad happened to her.”

  “Do you know who left the note for the principal?”

  She nods, then catches herself. “Um, yes. Kennedy typed it up, but I left it on the counter when nobody was looking.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “Right before second period started.”

  “Do you know who sent Graylin the picture on Snapchat?”
<
br />   “Yeah. Kennedy did that part. She made up a fake Snapchat account. There’s a website you can go to and get a fake email address that nobody can trace.”

  “Did she send the picture to anybody else besides Graylin?”

  “Yeah, lots of people, but Graylin got it first. She told me she wanted it to go viral so she would get famous like Kim Kardashian. But people started making fun of her online, calling her skinny and stuff and that hurt her feelings. I don’t think she thought it would really go viral because when it did, she got scared. We also didn’t know Graylin would get in trouble with the police. We thought he might get detention or something like that.”

  I think I have everything I need. I glance back at Jenny for confirmation. She nods.

  “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  For the first time, Sullivan looks deflated. She places both hands flat on the table and pushes herself to her feet.

  “LaShay, are you certain you’re telling the truth?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is this the truth or is this what your grandmother told you to say?”

  Mama Baker is on her feet. “The devil is a lie! The truth—”

  The judge bangs his gavel. “That’s it. Bailiff, show Mrs. Baker out of my courtroom.”

  Mama Baker keeps talking as she waddles down the aisle. “That’s okay, baby. You just tell ’em the truth. The truth shall set you free.”

  Sullivan swallows and resumes. “You claim Kennedy wanted to get Graylin in trouble, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “If she wanted to get him in trouble, why didn’t she just send him the picture in a text or an email?”

  “Because he would’ve known she sent it.”

  “How did she know he would take a screenshot of it?”

  LaShay looks at Sullivan as if the question doesn’t make sense. “Because everybody does.”

  Sullivan struggles to recover. She opens her mouth to speak, then apparently thinks better of it. “I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor.”

  “I think that’s enough for today,” the judge says. “I’m dismissing the jury and I’d like to see counsel and the defendant in chambers.”

  “Did we win, Ms. Angela?” Graylin says, excited. “Is that why we have to go talk to the judge?”