“How did you determine that?”
“When I saw that the crime lab report did specify that the orange juice was found inside the cup—but did not specify whether the brake fluid was inside or outside the cup—I went over to the crime lab myself to talk to the head of the forensics unit who did the test. And that’s when he told me.”
Putnam had his hands planted down on his counsel table, elbows out, as if he were an Olympic sprinter ready to fly out of the blocks. Bender was staring, blank-faced, waiting to see if Will was going to ask the question.
There was no sound in the courtroom.
Will cleared his throat. This was it.
“Detective,” he asked, “what did the head of the crime lab tell you about where in relation to the cup the brake fluid was found?”
Chaos broke out. Putnam leaped up, and his feet actually came off the ground for a moment. Bender also tried to jump up, but in doing so she knocked her chair over.
“Don’t you say a word,” Putnam yelled at Tracher. “Your Honor, we object. Hearsay. This is hearsay. This is a question that cannot be answered except by having the head of the crime lab here personally. We did not call him because we are admitting the report under the rules of evidence.”
“Then I’ll call him,” Will said.
“Can’t,” Putnam shouted out. “He is out of the country traveling for several weeks.”
“Then,” the judge asked, “doesn’t that bring into play the exceptions to hearsay when the declarant is not available?”
“No sir—no sir, Your Honor,” Bender jumped in loudly. “None of those exceptions apply here. None. None of them.”
The judge looked at Will. But this time—perhaps for the first time during the entire Mary Sue Fellows case—he had to agree with Harriet Bender.
“I’m afraid that Ms. Bender is correct on that,” the attorney said quietly.
The judge leaned back in his chair and glanced over the courtroom—but he was looking nowhere in particular.
“However,” Will added, “there is one final consideration. The rules of evidence list numerous exceptions to hearsay. We are all familiar with them. But the rules have also created a catch-all exception. Often argued, but rarely applied. The rules talk about ‘other circumstantial guarantees of trustworthiness.’ I think that means this—if we can all look at the statement that detective Tracher is about to share and know that it came from a highly reliable source, under circumstances that are virtually guaranteed to be trustworthy—then the purposes behind the hearsay rule have been met. Justice is done. The statement can be described by the detective to this court. After all, this is about justice, Your Honor. My client’s fundamental right as a parent of Joshua is a hollow right if a healthy measure of justice is not applied to protect it.”
Judge Trainer pursed his lips together and thought for a few long seconds.
Then he ruled.
“Detective,” he said.
“Yes,” Tracher answered.
“Answer the question.”
Bender stood up.
“I doubt he remembers the question after all this,” she said with an attempt at a laugh. “Perhaps Mr. Chambers should resubmit the question in a different form. Have another go at it. That way defense counsel could ask the question in a way that we all could understand this time.”
“I remember the question exactly,” the detective stated.
Then, after another slight pause, he answered.
“The fact is, the crime-lab chief told me that the brake fluid was found on the exterior portion of the cup, and a minute amount was found on the lip of the cup. But there was no brake fluid at all inside the cup.”
Joe Fellows hung his head down, muttering something and smiling.
Judge Trainer adjourned for the day, but he warned the audience to be more compliant with his directives about noise when they resumed the next day.
When the judge and court reporter had exited, Harriet Bender took a few steps toward Will Chambers as guard Thompson was escorting Joe out of the courtroom and back to this cell.
Then Bender opened up.
“All of that…” she said, waving vaguely around the courtroom, “this afternoon. Your cross of the witnesses. Of detective Tracher. Nothing—a big lot of nothing. A lot of noise. Two facts remain. First, Dr. Parker’s opinion places the brake fluid in Joshua’s bloodstream. In his bloodstream. Only one thing explains that. Someone fed it to that kid. And you and I both know who did that. Maybe Mary Sue washed the brake fluid out of the inside of the cup to hide her tracks. Don’t know. Don’t care. Dr. Parker’s opinion is going to nail this thing. We both know that.”
“What’s your second fact?”
“Your client’s not here. If that isn’t a picture of guilt, I don’t know what is.”
“What’s really on your mind, Harriet?” Will asked.
“I came over here to offer you a deal. I think that Putnam would be willing to drop this whole thing if your client simply agrees to stipulate to cause for a temporary extension of child custody by the department. We will give your client the standard list of conditions she has to meet—parenting classes, counseling, supervised visitation with Joshua for a couple months. If she’s a good girl and does everything to our satisfaction, she and Joe will get custody of Joshua back.”
“I’ll tell you what I think,” Will replied. “My client did not do this thing. But someone is trying hard to make it look like she did.”
“You really are nuts.” Bender shook her head athletically, grabbed her briefcase, and walked hastily out of the courtroom.
57
AS WILL RETURNED TO THE houseboat for the night, he was feeling momentarily optimistic about the course of the trial. He still had reservations, though, in two areas.
First, there was the problem of Dr. Parker’s opinion about Joshua’s blood test. Harriet Bender was right about that. If Judge Trainer felt there was any credible evidence that Joshua’s blood contained an unexplained toxin, then the burden shifted. The defense would have to account for it. They could do it with Dr. Forrester’s testimony, but Judge Trainer still had not decided whether to permit that testimony.
The only other way, it seemed, was to have his client testify in court—to explain, if she could, how the poison made its way into Joshua’s bloodstream. It could not have been accidental—Mary Sue had assured Will that Joshua was never out of her sight. And that he was certainly never allowed to be near the chemicals and other dangerous materials in the garage.
Here was the mystery—almost as opaque and incomprehensible as the reason why Mary Sue had not been open and forthright with Will about the facts of her case.
In any event, it seemed that she would not be appearing at trial. That created the indelible impression—like it or not—that his client was hiding something.
Will threw a frozen dinner into the microwave and sat down at the little table in the kitchenette, waiting for the timer to let him know it was done.
He rubbed his eyes. Suddenly he was very tired. Things were catching up to him. Maybe he should make a quick call to Fiona, he thought, before it got too late—patch things up again—maybe.
His headaches were back with a vengeance. Maybe he would lie down and sleep for a while. Then call Fiona, when his mind was clear, and he was less liable to put his foot in his mouth.
Outside, the sky had turned gray and the air was heavy. A breeze started blowing through the houseboat’s small windows. Within minutes a light rain started drifting down onto the lake, followed by the rumbling of distant thunder.
Then the phone rang. It was Mary Sue.
Through the poor reception on the line, Will told her it was urgent that they talk before the second day of trial. He gave her a thumbnail sketch of how court had gone that day.
“I will not be there to testify,” Mary Sue responded.
While this did not surprise Will intellectually, something in his insides started churning at the thought of having to win this ca
se with no client to tell her story.
The question was—what was her story?
“You’ve got to tell it to me straight,” Will said firmly. “Everything. I need to know the whole story—now.”
Mary Sue launched into a prolonged introduction—an apology of sorts. She knew that Will might think that the reason for her nondisclosure of facts was silly—even stupid—and mindless. But long after this case was over, she would still have to do everything possible to ensure a happy marriage with Joe.
Will listened patiently, but he urged Mary Sue to tell him some facts that would help him make sense of the case against her.
She had called Jason Bell Purdy, she started out. She hadn’t talked to him in a while. The last time before that had been at a benefit dinner for the Delphi hospital. A new wing was being opened, partly due to a generous donation from the Purdy Trust. Mary Sue and the rest of the nursing staff were there. Jason, in tux and black tie, was also. He was given a ceremonial key to the hospital and made a few comments that charmed the crowd. Then the group had retired to the banquet hall. Jason had deliberately moved his place card to her table so he could sit with her. They made small talk, she said. Nothing significant. But he was, she commented, “the same old Jason—still on the prowl.
“Because Henry Pencup had died on my shift recently, someone at the table—one of the nurses—made a point of talking about it. I didn’t think it was appropriate to be talking about a patient’s care at the banquet table—even if he had died.
“Then one of the nurses—I think it was my supervisor, Dorothy Atkinson—she has a thing against me anyway—says loudly, ‘Hey Mary Sue—didn’t he die on your shift? You were right there in the room with him and that priest, weren’t you?’”
His client’s voice grew very strained.
“Jason gave me a really funny look. He bent over, close to my ear, and tried to talk a little about it. But I just avoided the issue. The whole thing was very uncomfortable.
“Then a few days after the banquet, Jason called me at the hospital and left a message with Dorothy, my supervisor. But I didn’t return the call.
“It wasn’t long after that call that Dr. Wilson called Social Services, which brought the county down on us. I pleaded with Joe to hire an attorney to try to resolve things over their interference with Joshua.
“But Joe was adamant,” Mary Sue continued. “Money was tight. That was his same refrain, all the time. We simply couldn’t afford to get legal counsel. In fact, he kept saying he didn’t know how we could afford a second medical opinion for Joshua, considering it wouldn’t be covered by our insurance.”
“So you got back in touch with Purdy and asked him for money?”
“No,” Mary Sue answered quickly. “It wasn’t that. I kept saying we needed a lawyer to get Social Services off our backs. Working in the hospital, I had seen what happens when things go bad in a Social Services custody case. But Joe said no. I sulked. He kept saying no. So—then I did what I now regret.”
“What?”
“I called up Jason at his office in Atlanta. I told him a little bit about it. I said we couldn’t afford a lawyer—but we needed someone with clout to straighten things out with Social Services before things really got out of hand. Frankly, Jason knows everybody in high places in this part of the state. I figured that he could just pick up the phone and make things happen.”
“So what did he do for you?”
“Well, apparently he made some calls. He told me he was talking to people—he didn’t say who. But he said he had to meet with me to discuss it.”
“Did you?” Will asked.
“I remember the day all too well. It was about a week before the sheriff’s deputies and Social Services came tearing up to our house. Jason said we had to meet. It was urgent. It was about Joshua, he said.”
“What happened?”
“Jason wanted me to drive to his mansion. I knew that was not a good idea. You have to realize how crazy jealous Joe has always been of Jason and me. I knew he would absolutely freak if he knew I was talking to Jason, let alone driving to his house. But I was really scared about Social Services. I kept telling myself that pretty soon Jason would take care of it—and it would be all over.”
“Did you go?”
“I tried to. Joe was going to be gone all day at a meeting of the farmers’ co-op board. He was taking the good truck. The older truck was still in the garage. He’d said all it needed was some brake fluid—it was dangerous to drive otherwise because the brakes were so mushy. But he just never got around to it.”
“So you put the brake fluid in yourself?”
“Yes,” Mary Sue said with a deep sigh. “Spilled it. Made a huge mess. I was so angry. Mostly at Joe, I guess. That he hadn’t taken care of the truck like he promised. But then, the real irony is this—I try to start the truck and the battery is dead. I was furious and frustrated. I called Jason crying. I said we couldn’t meet because of the truck. I pleaded with him to help. I was so incredibly naïve. Jason says in that smooth, good-little-boy voice of his—‘Mary Sue, you have no worries. I’m going to drive over to your farm myself. So you and I can work this Social Services stuff out.’ Of course he suggested that when I told him Joe would be gone all day.”
“Did he come—to your house?”
“Certainly. And I told him about the truck. About spilling brake fluid all over myself. Tracking it into the kitchen. I’d cleaned it up the best I could. I must have touched Joshua’s cup. Anyway, Jason was right there listening to me spill all of this information. I told him Joe would do something drastic if he found out that Jason was in our house. Jason just smiled and said, ‘Nobody needs to know I was here.’”
“For heaven’s sake—why didn’t you tell me this at the beginning?” Will demanded.
“And then explain everything about Jason?”
“What do you mean?”
“When Jason was at my house he didn’t want to talk at all about Social Services or helping me. He kept asking me about Henry Pencup. And the priest. And everything that Pencup had said before he died. On and on about that.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth—at first. That I really hadn’t heard much of anything. I’d just happened to be there when the cardiac arrest took place.”
“Did he believe you?”
“I don’t know. Because then he started getting…this is very tough for me to say.”
“I need to hear,” Will said gently but firmly.
“He tried to put his arms around me. Joshua is sitting right there on the floor playing. I’m in my jeans and work clothes, and he starts pawing me. I really couldn’t believe it was happening. His hands were all over me. Like I was a cheap date he’d picked up at a bar. I pushed him away. He kept coming at me, touching me. Finally I hauled off and slapped him. Hard, too. I think I left a mark.”
“How did it end?”
“That was the scary part. I thought I knew Jason. I was aware he was always going after the ladies. And me. But I figured that down deep he was a gentleman—just consider the family legacy he came from. Well, that day I learned differently. He looked at me with such a look—almost demonic. That’s the only way I can describe it. He says, ‘I’m going to ask only one more time—what did you hear Henry Pencup say?’ And this is where I was so wrong. So stupid. I wanted to get his goat.”
“What did you tell him?” Will asked.
“I led him on, just to get back at him. I said, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ As if I really knew something. The fact is, I didn’t.”
“He left?”
“Like a snake slithering out of the house. He gets in his Porsche and zooms off.”
“Is that the last you saw of him?”
“That is the last time we talked.”
There was a long pause. Then Mary Sue spoke again.
“Where does this leave us?”
“I have a feeling that if we checked the Unemployment Department
records in the Atlanta district, we would get the identity of a woman fired by Jason Purdy—terminated shortly before she called me and gave me that ambiguous tip. It’s all falling into place.”
“Will, do you have any idea how I struggled with telling you this?”
“I think so,” Will said. Then he added, “Honestly, I’m having a problem figuring it out.”
“I tell you, then my husband finds out. He never trusts me again. And you can’t use Jason to prove any of this to help my case—because he would lie on the stand without blinking. He would deny it.”
“That last bit I can certainly agree with.”
“And after all of that—what would I be gaining?” Mary Sue said, pleading in her voice.
“I’m your attorney, not your marriage counselor,” Will said. “But I’m going to give you some advice. You need to tell your husband all of this. No matter what happens. It also sounds like Jason may have committed sexual assault—”
“Will, come on. Do you really think that a simple farm wife like me, accused of child abuse, could make a charge like that stick against Jason Bell Purdy?”
“There is nothing simple about you,” Will replied. “You love your husband. You are deeply devoted to your son. You’ve tried to follow God’s leading on this. And you’ve been facing a horrendous injustice almost entirely on your own. My hat’s off to you. But you do need to do something else.”
“Why do I think I know what you’re going to say?”
“You need to come home.”
“Joshua is already there.”
“In Delphi?”
“At the hospital. We had him airlifted. Joe’s mom is staying with him.”
“But he needs his mother.”
Mary Sue started weeping. Then she said, “I know.”
“Where are you now?” Will asked.
“Still on the road. Do me a favor and just win that case for me tomorrow. I need my family.”
The static on the telephone line was getting worse. Now the rain was coming down hard over the lake, in sheets.
Will quickly reviewed with Mary Sue the remaining witnesses for the county, who were scheduled for the next day: Bob Smiley, the insurance agent—Dr. Parker, the pathologist—and Dorothy Atkinson, Mary Sue’s nursing supervisor.
Custody of the State Page 29