Temptations - The Complete Series

by Annie Jocoby

  “I have some well-placed contacts on all those stations as well. And, I’ve been a contributor on CNN on many different shows. Since that network needs to make sure that I keep fulfilling the terms of my contract, they pretty much will make sure that the story is reported the way I want it to be.”

  I felt relieved that Slade had a guy like Jackson in his corner. I had always wondered, secretly, just why Malcolm wasn’t more like Jackson – coming at the media aggressively, telling Slade’s story of innocence. I knew why, now, Malcolm didn’t do all those things. I was therefore happy that Slade’s story would be out there with this Jackson person.

  “Okay, alright,” Jackson said with a smile on his face. I was warming up to this man, for he seemed like a typical happy warrior. He was going to bat for his client, but he was going to do it with aplomb and good humor. That was important. “Let’s do this. It’s show-time.”

  At that, we all got out of the car. Somebody from the media spotted us, and the whole throng came at us en masse. Before I knew it, we were surrounded by people, cameras, and microphones being shoved in all of our faces.

  “Is it true that you’re going to be pleading guilty to disposing of a corpse today, Mr. Bridgewell?” somebody asked.

  “Do you have any comment on your mother’s case?” asked somebody else.

  “Why did you dispose of that body?” asked a third person.

  “Why did your mother kill Hugh Robbins?” asked yet another person.

  Slade took a deep breath. “Please direct all your questions to my counsel, Jackson Prejean,” he said, motioning to Jackson. “He’ll be my attorney on this case, and he will speak for me. In the meantime, I have to get into the station.”

  The throng moved towards Jackson, but people continued to shout at me. “Are you the attorney for Ms. Facinelli?” somebody asked. “Do you care to comment on whether or not she is guilty of the murder of Hugh Robbins?”

  “I am the attorney for Ms. Facinelli, and I would like to make a statement,” I said. “Ms. Facinelli feared for her life and for her safety. Mr. Robbins was illegally in Ms. Facinellis home, and, as you know, her home is considered to be her castle. As such, she has an absolute right to defend herself in her own home if she reasonably felt that she was in danger of death or great bodily harm. She had the right to stand her ground and not retreat.”

  At that, everybody started talking at once. People were taking pictures of me, with Margot by my side, and I felt threatened myself. Slade came over and put his arm around me protectively. “Everybody get back,” he said. “If one of you lays one hand on her, I’ll go and get an officer from inside this building to come out here. One question at a time.”

  “Mr. Bridgewell, is it true that your mother shot Mr. Robbins in cold blood and that she didn’t feel threatened for her life at all?”

  “No, that’s not true. Now, if you will excuse us, we need to see the officers that are presiding over this case. Again, if you have any more questions, please speak with my lawyer, Jackson Prejean.”

  The media throng didn’t seem to be satisfied in the least with this command. They kept pressing and jostling and I felt suffocated. I was getting used to this kind of media attention because of Slade’s murder case, but it never quite rose to this level, at least not regarding me. Slade handled it all like a pro, though. He put his arms out, in order to keep everyone back. “We need to go.” He looked over at Jackson. “I won’t say one word until you get into the room with me, but could you please hold an impromptu press conference out here?”

  “Of course,” he said with a smile. Then he faced the media throng. “Okay, one question at a time please.”

  At that, the three of us – Margot, Slade and I – made our way into the building. I looked down at my hands, which were shaking. “Oh my god, I don’t think that I’ve seen anything like that. I mean, I have, but only on television.”

  “You’re lucky then. That kind of thing has been the story of my life, especially lately. But you handled them really well. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I still felt shaken, yet, because Slade was right there, by my side, I didn’t feel as shaken as I might have.

  Slade leaned into me. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to have to get used to that. Not that those people are interested in my mother, but, since I played a part in this whole thing…” He shook his head. “They’re going to be going ape.”

  “I believe you.”

  We made our way to Detective O’Malley’s office. He stood up when he saw the three of us. “Well, well, well, you just made my job one helluva lot easier. I was going to send the sheriff over to pick up Margot, yet here you guys are.”

  “Here we are,” I said. “Margot would like to turn herself in and start the process.”

  “Good,” he said. “I have already Mirandized you, so I’m going to have to book you into jail. Tomorrow you’ll get your first hearing.” He looked over at me. “Be in court tomorrow at 9. Her case will be on the docket.”

  At that, he put the handcuffs on her, and her face looked stricken. I wondered if her mind was tripping back to the days when she was serving prison time for the murder of her husband. As I closed my eyes, I knew that she was thinking about those days. I put my hand on her arm. “You won’t serve much time in there. I’ll be there at the hearing tomorrow and Slade will post your bond, whatever it is. It’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded, but said nothing at all. She let the officer lead her to the jail, and I went with her as she went through the entire process – being fingerprinted, having her mug shot taken, being strip-searched. She had to leave all of her valuables in a bag – her watch, her rings, her phone. She convinced them to let her leave her crucifix on, though. “Please,” she told him. “I need this. I never take this off, ever.”

  The guard looked frustrated and shook his head, but he let her keep it. “You can keep that on,” he said, “at your own risk. Don’t be looking at me if somebody tries to forcibly take that from you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, looking down as he led her into a cell. There were two other ladies in that cell, and they regarded her warily.

  “Okay, now, Margot, you know what to do. We’ll be seeing you tomorrow in court.” I put my hand through the bar and touched her own. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Even as I told her that, though, I was unsure. Was she going to be okay? Could I win this case? It certainly seemed a long-shot. And, if I lost the case, would Slade ever forgive me? I felt so much pressure from all of this. Somehow, I was going to have to pull a rabbit out of the hat. If I didn’t, then Slade and Margot’s life would be completely upended.

  Something like that could spell the end of my fantasy with Slade.

  Chapter 9

  I went to the lobby of the police station, which was where I was supposed to meet Slade. I nervously looked down at my phone, reading articles about self-defense and pulling up case law on the topic on my Lexis account. I knew that the whole thing would hinge on the testimony of the expert witness, but it also would hinge upon which judge I drew for the case. I knew that I could pick the best jury – that was my specialty. I could usually tell when the jurors were lying about something, and that would be my basis for dismissing them.

  With the right jury and the right expert, we might stand a chance.

  Might.

  It seemed like forever before Slade came out with Jackson. “I’m being arrested,” he told me. “So go on back to the house.”

  “Court date tomorrow?”

  “Yes. The same courtroom as my mother. We’ll both be out on bail tomorrow, I assume. I know that I will, and hopefully the judge will set a bond for mom.”

  I had a feeling that was coming. I was going to have to go out and face those reporters all by myself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He put his arms around me, put his hand in my hair and kissed me passionately. "See you tomorrow."

  I left, and, just like I knew would happen,
the reporters swarmed me. “Do you have any comment about Mr. Bridgewell’s involvement with the murder of Hugh Robbins?” someone asked.

  “Do you think that Ms. Facinelli will be getting the death penalty?” shouted another.

  “I told you all that I’m going to tell you,” I said. “When I gave my impromptu press conference earlier. Now, please stand back and let me get to my car.”

  They parted and let me walk, but they continued to shout questions at me as I walked to Slade’s car. I was going to have to drive his Tesla Model X SUV, which was a car that I had never driven before. I was slightly nervous about that, but I soon got the hang of it, and I drove off to head for Slade’s Malibu mansion.

  When I got to Slade’s, I wasn’t there five minutes before Harry was calling me. “Serena,” he said. “What is going on? Nobody has heard from you since you punched Derek at lunch, although Mr. Bridgewell has called the firm on your behalf.”

  I didn’t want to tell him the truth – that working with Derek turned my stomach. I was going to have to learn how to work with that man, even if it was the very last thing that I wanted to do. “I apologize, Harry, but I have a new client for us. Margot Facinelli, Mr. Bridgewell’s mother.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one. It’s been all over the news here because of Mr. Bridgewell’s involvement. Poor guy can’t catch a break. He’s getting his charges dropped for murder, but he’s right back into it for this cover-up.” He paused for a few seconds. “I suppose you heard the news that Mr. Bridgewell is bailing out our troubled ship? He’s retired all of Malcolm’s debts and has infused the firm with cash. His people sent over a bill of particulars, and I think that we’re going to have to take it. So, your boyfriend is going to be the majority owner of our firm.”

  “Well, it’s a good investment for him.”

  “It is. Now, do you want to tell me about you and Derek?”

  “What about us?”

  “You punched him, right at the table in front of everyone. Nobody could understand why you did that.”

  “I don’t want to go into that.”

  “You don’t have to, of course, but I think that you’re going to have to learn to work with him. Our firm is very excited to have him, as he has made quite a name for himself in New York City. He’s prosecuted a lot of high-profile people there. He’s going to be a real asset to us, so please don’t mess this up.”

  I sighed. “I won’t mess this up. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, but I did want to know when you’re coming into the office again.”

  “The day after tomorrow,” I said. “Friday. I have a bond hearing tomorrow for Margot, Slade’s mother, and then I’ll probably head back to San Diego. I'll be at the funeral, too, of course. It's on Saturday right?”

  “Right. I’ll see you in a few days then. Are you working remotely?”

  “No. I don’t have my case files with me.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll see you on Friday.”

  At that,hung up.

  As I walked around the enormous house, I realized that it seemed almost haunted. I remembered when I first got here, how lively it all was. Slade had a charity ball right there in the house, and the charity ball turned into a raucous party afterwards. There were people milling about the house into the next day. Even then, I knew that Slade was trying to escape something. He told me that he enjoyed having people around because it helped him get out of his head.

  Now, with nobody around, the enormous place just seemed cavernous. The grand piano had a cover over it, and I looked up at the skylight and saw dust particles streaming. I had assumed that Slade had his cleaning crew up at the house working, even if he couldn’t be there on-site, but it looked like nobody had been there for several months.

  I went over to the kennel that had the two dogs in it. They were curled up together on their bed, and, when they saw me, they both stretched and yawned and then their little bodies started to gyrate wildly. “Let’s go outside,” I said, scooping them both up.

  I took them to the fenced-in yard and put them down. They explored, sniffing around, before landing on a spot to do their business. They finished and came bounding over to me again.

  They followed me into the house, and I gave them both a treat. I sat down on a big chair, and they leaped up on my lap. I pet them absent-mindedly.

  Slade called on my phone. “Hey,” he said when I picked up. “This is my one phone call. I wanted to let you know that I’m okay. I’m thinking about you.”

  “I’m thinking about you, too.”

  “We’re going to get out of this.”

  I knew that Slade wasn’t certain of this, even though he certainly tried to sound like he was. “I hope that you’re right. This isn’t going to be easy, though. Not in the least.”

  “These cases aren’t ever easy, nor are they supposed to be. But I have faith in you. I have faith in Jackson to get me off as well.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  After he hung up, I wandered around the house some more. I also put in a phone call to the expert witness that I needed to call. His name was Dr. Sanderson, and I knew that he specialized in disorders that were associated with trauma. If I could get him to tell the jury that Margot was suffering from acute PTSD, then maybe the jury would acquit her. It would show that she reacted reasonably for a woman in her shoes.

  His receptionist answered the phone and told me that he was with a client, but would call me as soon as he could.

  When he finally called back, after about an hour, I made an appointment to see him. I wanted to speak with him about what I needed before he met with Margot. I didn’t know for a fact that Margot would be granted bail, but I assumed that she would, so I worked with that assumption in mind.

  For the rest of the day, I did an endless amount of research on the case. By the time I finally turned in that night, at around 11, I felt like an expert myself on Margot’s case. My head was filled with statistics and about how people who suffered from PTSD would react in certain situations. I read case law about Vietnam vets who killed people because they were in the throes of an active PTSD hallucination. I read everything that I needed to read about “Battered Woman’s Syndrome.” I had to become well-versed on what we needed to prove to the jury to show that Margot was not guilty because she reasonably feared for her life.

  I even briefly thought of another defense, temporary insanity, but I felt that Margot probably wouldn’t fit that definition. That would require me to show that Margot didn’t know the nature of her act at the time of the crime, and, from what Slade told me, that wasn’t the case. She clearly knew what she had done.

  The other avenue to explore was diminished capacity or a “heat of passion” defense. That would negate the pre-meditated mens rea that would need to be shown by the prosecution to make a murder charge stick. That would mean that Margot could be convicted of manslaughter, as opposed to murder, if I could show diminished capacity or that the killing was done in the “heat of passion.” Heat of passion meant that she was so in the grips of her emotions at that time that it caused her to do what she did.

  That was going to be Plan B, because if Margot was convicted of manslaughter, she would be back in prison. That wasn’t a good choice for anybody, of course, even if her prison sentence was relatively short. Slade wouldn’t be happy with that, and Margot…who knew if she would even survive another prison stint? The last one clearly destroyed her. I thought about how she was – so cowering, so afraid, so small. Her body language told me that she was a woman who was beaten down by life. To go to prison when she was in that kind of mental state was just something that I couldn’t even contemplate. Nor did I want to.

  It was better than her being convicted of murder, of course, but that wasn’t saying much.

  By the time I finally went to sleep, I was confident that I had done enough preliminary research. It didn’t reassure me, necessarily, because I still foresaw a
n uphill battle in trying to convince the jury that Margot reasonably feared for her life. But, I at least felt that I had somewhat of a grip on what was going to happen.

  Chapter 10

  Slade made bail the next day. I went to the courthouse to pick him up and appear in court for Margot, after being jostled by the reporters yet again. Slade was first, as he greeted me outside the courthouse. "I'm free," he said, with Jackson right behind him. "The judge only made my bond $50,000, which is a good sign. I'm guessing that he's not necessarily thinking that my crime is all that serious."

  I nodded my head. "That really is a good sign. That bond amount wasn't much."

  He hugged me, and I felt my head against his hard pecs. "I missed you last night," he said. "I was in my jail cell, and all that I could think about was you."

  I smiled. "I felt the same way." I sighed. "But I'm just a tad nervous over Margot's hearing. I hope that the judge gives her bail. He might not, though. After all, she sorta ran after she killed Hugh by going to New York City. That doesn't look good, and it also doesn't look good that you have a private plane and a house in Italy for her to go. I'm sure that the prosecutor is aware of all of these factors. Just fair warning."

  "I know. Good luck anyhow. I don't want to put any pressure on you about this, at least any more pressure than I have to."

  "Don't worry. Well, I need to go to her courtroom and do what I can."

  I walked down the hall to Margot's courtroom. I was on the docket, but I was first, so, when Margot was brought in, I knew that we would be getting out of there soon. I approached the bench, and the judge read her charges. "Margot Facinelli, you've been charged by the State of California with one count of first degree murder. How do you plead?"

  She looked at me with wide eyes. "Not guilty you're honor."

  The judge looked at the prosecutor. "Do you have any objections to my setting bond for Ms. Facinelli?" He looked over at me, smiled, and looked back at the prosecutor. "Bear in mind that Ms. Facinelli can surely make any bail I set for her, seeing that her son can buy half of the State of California, with money left over."