Conspiracy of Silence

by Gledé Browne Kabongo

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but please, go on.”

  “I knew it would only be a matter of time before it would be completely destroyed and gone forever, so I scanned whatever was left and kept them hidden.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  Geraldine toyed with her pearl necklace and remained quiet, her face pensive as if trying to recollect what drove her actions. Nina felt sympathy for her. She knew what it was like to love someone who did awful things.

  “I’m not quite sure. I knew Phillip and his daughter were not on the best of terms, and when I read the diary, I understood why. Phillip blatantly lied to me about why their relationship was so acrimonious. He said she was a rebellious girl and he had difficulty controlling her. I knew that diary was the only existing proof the abuse had taken place. It just seemed the right thing to do to hold on to something like that. I had no idea it would come to this.”

  Phillip sat fuming at the defense table. She set him up plain and simple. He knew he should have kept the den locked like he usually did, but for some reason he was exceptionally busy that week and kept forgetting to lock it. He was confident that no one, especially Geraldine, would dare to enter without his permission. While he was so worried about his daughter causing trouble for him, he couldn’t have anticipated that his agreeable, proper British wife would be the one who would do him in. It didn’t matter. The defense had yet to put on its case. Cold-blooded killers have gotten off on technicalities. There was no way he was going down for something he didn’t do.

  “One last question. I know this is very distressing to you but could you share with the court some of the things you discovered in the diary?”

  Geraldine closed her eyes then opened them. She was expressionless. Everyone in the courtroom waited on pins and needles to hear what would come out of her mouth next.

  “The few pages I was able to salvage had dates on them. The entries referenced the act, how she felt dirty afterwards and wanted to be somebody else.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Before the words were out of McCloud’s mouth, Bosch pounced on an obviously weary and uncomfortable Geraldine. “How do you know this diary belonged to Nina Kasai?”

  “Because she told me about the abuse. The account in the diary matches what she told me.”

  “Did these pages reference my client by his first name?”

  “No.”

  “What about his last name?”

  “There was no mention of it.”

  “Did you ask my client about this diary?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “So just to summarize, you found a diary in the home you shared with my client, assumed it documented his abuse of his daughter, but there is no reference to him or his daughter by name and you can’t prove the diary belonged to her?”

  “Well…

  “Thank you, Mrs. Copeland.”

  McCloud asked for a redirect. “Why didn’t you ask your husband who the diary belonged to or how he came to have it in his possession?”

  “After I read what was in it, I couldn’t. I knew I was dealing with someone not entirely sane, in my opinion.”

  * * *

  IT WAS FINALLY HER TURN, the day she’d been dreading for weeks. But it also meant the trial would soon come to a close. Nina was elegantly dressed in a charcoal grey suit and white silk blouse. Her hair was pulled back in the usual chignon.

  “I want the jury to clearly see your face when you testify, to show them you have nothing to hide,” McCloud had said to her. Now he approached with gentle understanding, yet firm professionalism.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No, but let me know when I should be.”

  Her response yielded nervous laughter from the courtroom.

  “What are your feelings toward the defendant?”

  Nina contemplated the question. There was still no easy answer. “It’s complicated.”

  “Why is that?

  “How much time do you have?”

  Dan McCloud smiled. “Why don’t you tell the court, in as straightforward a manner as possible, why your relationship with the defendant is complicated?”

  “He’s the only father I’ve known since I was ten. I loved him very much at one point in my life. But I also grew to both fear and loathe him.”

  She could feel herself getting emotional and bit down hard on her lips to shift the pain from emotional to physical.

  “Describe for the court what it was like in the first few days after you met your father for the first time.”

  Nina cleared her throat. “He said he could see I was raised well and I was a well-mannered, polite young lady. He looked forward to us getting to know each other. He said he would provide me with everything and anything I needed and never had to worry.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “I was ecstatic. Who wouldn’t be?” I wasn’t sure what to expect when I arrived and it turned out my father was this important guy who embraced me right away. It certainly made the transition easier. Life was good.”

  “And how long did the good times last?”

  “About a month.”

  “What changed between you and the defendant?”

  “The father-daughter boundary was eliminated.”

  “How so?”

  “He made inappropriate physical contact with me.”

  “Could you describe when this contact first took place?”

  Nina took a deep breath. Once you get through this part, it gets easier, she told herself. “He came to my room one night with a belated birthday gift, a series of children’s books he knew I liked. I was thrilled with the gift and kissed him on the cheek. After that, things went downhill.”

  “What happened next?”

  Nina relived for the court the first time her father raped her in her bedroom when she was ten years old: the brute force he used to keep her pinned down, his hands over her mouth to muffle her screams, the excruciating pain she felt when he penetrated her, the fear and confusion that followed, and the threat of abandonment if she told anyone.

  August 15, 1982

  My daddy is a bad man. Mr. Tibbs thinks so, too.

  Daddy says I’m not supposed to talk about it. He says I can’t tell anyone because they would take him away and send Cassie and me to live in foster care. Cassie is only two years old and I’m not sure what foster care is but it doesn’t sound good. I love my daddy . . . but Mr. Tibbs and I wished he wouldn’t come to my room at night because he always brings big trouble.

  It all started when daddy missed my tenth birthday last month because I was still on the island with Trevor and Mom. Daddy decided to surprise me with what he said grown-ups call a “bee lated” birthday present. I said I didn’t know what bee lated meant, but Daddy said that was okay because he knew what it meant, and so long as I kept it a secret, he would show me. After Mr. Tibbs and I said our prayers, before we shut off the lights, there was a knock at the door. It was Daddy with a present. The box was so big, it almost didn’t fit through my bedroom door.

  “I have something special for my beautiful Gazella,” Daddy said.

  My name isn’t really Gazella, but that’s what Daddy always calls me. He says it’s because I’m graceful and beautiful like a gazelle, which I looked up and which looks something like a cross between a deer and a ballerina. It’s a silly nickname because I don’t have four legs, but I don’t want to make Daddy mad, so I pretend I like it.

  “What is it?”

  “Why don’t you open it up and see?”

  He put the box on my bed and sat down. I ripped the ribbons off and took the top off, too. Inside were a lot of books. I love books. I took one from the box and it was called Five Get Into Trouble, one of my favorites about the adventures of Juliana, Dick, Anne, Georgina and their dog, Timmy. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Look again,” Daddy said with a big smile on his face.

  I picked out another one. Five on a Secret Trail. I emptied the box on m
y bed and a ton of books cam tumbling out, all Famous Five novels. I counted them. Twenty-one. My daddy had bought me the entire series of Famous Five books.

  “This is the best birthday present ever,” I said. I wrapped my arms around Daddy’s neck and hugged him so tight he almost choked. “Thank you, thank you, thank you infinity.”

  “You’re welcome. You deserve it because you’re special. You’re smart and beautiful and Daddy needs you to be a good girl. That means you listen to Daddy and no one else. Okay?”

  “Okay. How did you know I liked Famous Five?”

  “Your mother told me you used to spend hours under a mango tree reading those books. She couldn’t get you away from them.”

  “There are Secret Sevens too, but I like Famous Five better.”

  “I’m glad I could make you happy. Now it’s your turn to make Daddy happy.” He leaned down and tapped his cheek twice, looking sideways at me like he expected something, which of course he did.

  I gave daddy a kiss on the cheek like usual, but he did the strangest thing. He pulled my face around and kissed me on the mouth, like grown-ups. I didn’t know daddies were supposed to do that. Only mommies and daddies did that I thought, and princes and princesses, like on TV and in the movies.

  “Can I go to bed now? I’m really tired.”

  “In a minute,” he said. He threw all my brand new books on the floor and I saw one of the covers bend back in a way that I knew would leave a white scar across the glossy picture. I wanted to pick up the books but Daddy said I could pick them up tomorrow.

  I wouldn’t stop crying and that made Daddy mad.

  “Someone is going to hear you if you don’t shut up,” Daddy said. “Do you want me to get in trouble? This is our secret, only special daddies and daughters do this so you have to keep it a secret. Can you keep a secret? It only hurts the first time, but it will get better, Gazella, you’ll see.”

  After daddy left, I was scared to turn the lights back on. Mr. Tibbs and I decided to be brave. There was blood on my bed and pajamas. Yuck!

  Daddy said it would only hurt the first time but he lied. My daddy lies a lot. Even Mr. Tibbs thinks so.

  Nina looked in Phillip’s direction. His face was expressionless, somber. She wondered what he was thinking.

  He was having difficulty controlling his emotions but outwardly, he refused to react. He knew all eyes from the jury were looking at him at various times during Nina’s story and he had to force himself to stay focused, return their stares. He was fighting for his dignity as much as his freedom. He remembered the episode she described but it didn’t happen that way. If he had any inkling she was so disturbed, he would have hauled her off to a psychiatrist when she was a kid and insisted she needed to be heavily medicated. How was he supposed to know a little affection from him would have unleashed her inner craziness, a craziness which went untreated for so long that he was now in a court of law fighting for his life?

  The DA cleared his throat and readjusted his glasses for the umpteenth time, a gesture Nina realized was a nervous one.

  “How often would the abuse take place?”

  “Often enough. It depended on whether or not he was around. If he was traveling on business like he frequently did, nothing happened. If he was around, it was almost every day.”

  “Wasn’t he afraid you would tell someone?”

  “He made sure he was in control at all times.”

  “How did he accomplish that?”

  “He needed to know where I was and who I was with at all times. He would tell me there were people who wanted to take him down and they would try to use me to do it, so it was critical that I remain loyal to him. Otherwise, if anything happened to him, I would be alone and possibly become a ward of the state. Charlene was the only person he didn’t consider a threat.”

  “Could you elaborate?”

  “As I said, he needed to keep me reined in at all times and I wasn’t allowed to get close to anyone he didn’t approve of. That included potential boyfriends.”

  Can you recall any specific incidents to demonstrate what you just testified to?”

  “He once followed me to a cousin’s house because he suspected the boy I was interested in would be present. About fifteen minutes into the visit, my cousin told me my father was outside and wanted to see me.”

  “How would you characterize his demeanor at the time?”

  “He was breathing fire,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Nina, was the defendant ever physically violent towards you?”

  Bosch angrily rose to her feet. “Your Honor, this is a travesty. First my client is portrayed as a child molester, an accusation I have yet to see any concrete evidence of. Now he’s being accused of physical violence towards his daughter. How long will Your Honor allow this mockery of the rules of evidence and law to continue?”

  Judge Sokoff didn’t take kindly to being ridiculed in his own courtroom.

  “Ms. Bosch, this is my courtroom and I decide what’s admissible and what is not. The next time you want to challenge the way I run my courtroom, I’ll hold you in contempt. Objection overruled.”

  The judge directed Nina to answer the question.

  “Yes, the defendant did get violent.”

  “Could you describe what kind of violence took place?”

  “It started out as a slap here or there for ‘being disrespectful’ as he put it, which meant I said something he didn’t like, or challenged him.”

  “Where did he slap you?”

  “Across the face.”

  “Were there other instances of physical abuse?”

  “Yes.” Nina closed her eyes as she struggled to suppress one particularly bad memory. She steadied her voice.

  “The worst beating I ever got was because Constance told him I was monopolizing her boyfriend’s attention. I announced his arrival and without thinking, went back to the living room where I had been listening to music. Her boyfriend sat down and asked me questions about what I was listening to.”

  “And for the record, what were you listening to?”

  “Prince’s Purple Rain album.”

  “Continue.”

  “Constance seemed to take a really long time to come over and greet him. Anyway, she eventually did, and I made myself scarce.”

  “But that wasn’t the end, was it?”

  “No. My father confronted me the next day.”

  “And what did the defendant do?”

  “He got out the belt.”

  “The belt?”

  “Yes, a regular belt, leather, as I recall. He hit me a couple of times with it and I decided it wasn’t fair. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I ran. He chased me around the house.”

  “How did this abusive incident end?”

  “He won,” she said flatly. “I had the scars to prove it.”

  “Nina, how old were you when this incident took place?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Wasn’t there anyone who could help you?”

  “My stepmother was out with my sister, and Constance was the only person in the house.”

  “She made no effort to help you?”

  “No.”

  “Tell the court about your relationship with Constance.”

  “Things were fine at first, but soon that changed.”

  “When did things begin to change?”

  “When I suspected she knew what was going on. She became a little hostile. We would argue about the silliest things. She became critical of everything I did.”

  “You mentioned her attitude changed when you suspected she knew what was going on. What made you think that?”

  “She told me herself. One day we were arguing about something and her response was, ‘at least I’m not sleeping with my father.’”

  “Objection—”

  “Overruled. I want to hear this,” Judge Sokoff said.

  Nina glanced at her section of the courtroom. Her mother looked like she was slowly dying. M
arc was trying hard to be strong for the both of them, a battle Nina wasn’t sure he was winning. She hated to see her loved ones in pain, and the only thing that kept her going was the fact they were at the halfway point. Once she made it through cross-examination, she would be home free.

  “How did you react?”

  “I was ashamed and humiliated because I thought nobody knew.”

  “Nina, let’s go back to the sexual abuse. Where would it take place?”

  “He would mostly come to my room at night when everyone else was asleep.”

  “Did you ever ask him why he did it, or try to get him to stop?”

  “Numerous times. I kept telling him it was wrong. His response was ‘lots of fathers and daughters do this.’”

  “This next question is critical and I want you to be honest and truthful. Why didn’t you ever tell anyone about the abuse?”

  This was the question that had plagued Nina from the very beginning and the answer, if she were to be honest, came down to two things: ambition and revulsion.

  “There were other people to consider. There was always the threat of foster care, the guilt of dismantling a family. And I couldn’t handle the shame.”

  “That’s a lot for a young girl to carry around. What changed your mind? What brought us to this point?”

  “The defendant himself.” It was true. If her father had never shown up at her office that day, she would have continued to live her life the way she had prior to his visit.

  “Can you expand on that?”

  “It all started when he paid me a visit a year ago. He still thought of me as the little girl he could manipulate and dominate. When I wouldn’t bend to his will as I had in the past, things got ugly. He wanted me to pay for daring to defy him, so he kept pushing and pushing until I finally broke. I decided to do what I should have done a long time ago: let justice take its course.”