Megan understood. She had tried a lot of cases in her career and had seen many victims of a crime become yet another victim—the victim of the defense attorney. Once a victim came forward they were a target and the defense attorney did everything they could to tear their credibility apart and destroy their story. Especially in rape trials. Sadly, many times the victim came away more damaged by the legal system than they had been when they first came forward and asked for help.
Megan had done her best to protect Lucy throughout the deposition. She’d repeatedly objected to how aggressive Mattingly was being towards her. He asked his questions in a loud rude manner and tried to encroach on Lucy’s personal space in any way he could. Megan knew that he was trying to intimidate her. The whole four and a half hours was a constant battle. Megan was exhausted.
“I can’t believe he asked me about getting sued for non-payment of a credit card back in college.” Lucy’s face was riddled with confusion. “What does that have to do with me being raped?”
“He’s doing a fishing expedition,” Megan said. She reached over and took a hard candy from the small crystal dish in the center of the table. The candy was the best part of taking depositions. The court reporters always provided something. It helped with the boredom of the lawyers’ endless questions.
Lucy shook her head. “But a small claims suit on a credit card? Years ago? And how did he know that I and my college roommates had been evicted?”
“ Obviously they’ve done a big background investigation on you. Lawyers use whatever they can to attack a plaintiff or a witness’s credibility. “
Lucy sighed. “I know. This is what I’ve been dreading all along. All the digging around in my personal life looking for something to use to attack me in court. I thought I was prepared for it, but I wasn’t. I didn’t appreciate Mattingly asking me personal details about the guys I dated. Did they have criminal records? Were any of them married? Did they do drugs—and did I do them? Not to mention wanting to know when I became sexually involved with them and how that came about. The way he questioned me about them seemed to imply that I was either a money grubber or prostitute.” She leaned back in the chair and looked at the crumpled tissue in her hands. “I feel like I’ve been raped again—but in a different way.” She looked at Megan. “It was brutal. His questions sounded like I’m hiding something or….”
“That’s the game, Lucy.” Megan sighed.
Lucy nodded. The room fell silent. “I’m beginning to see why women don’t want to come forward.” Lucy said, casting a glance at Megan.
“This is just practice for the trial. Now you have an idea of how Mattingly will be.” Megan started putting files in her briefcase. She didn’t feel good about how the whole deposition had gone. Mattingly knew how to keep Lucy upset and how to make her look bad. He was a master at pushing people’s buttons. At one point Megan, could feel Lucy getting ready to burst into tears and called for a break. She knew if Mattingly thought he had gotten to Lucy he would take that as a huge victory and intensify the attack.
Lucy shook her head and looked down at the table. Megan could see that her hands were still trembling when she picked up her glass of water and took a sip.
“One thing he didn’t ask you about was the married guy you had the affair with—the IT genius.” Megan could feel Lucy’s energy shift. “In light of the extensive background investigation they’ve obviously done I’m kind of surprised they didn’t ask about him. “
Lucy said nothing.
Megan snapped shut her briefcase and set it on the table. She looked Lucy straight in the eye. “Was there anything significant that happened with him we need to be aware of? Tarkington and Mattingly are leaving no stone unturned and if there’s something they’ll find it.”
Lucy reached down and picked up her purse off the floor. Suddenly, she let out a small gasp and placed her hand on her stomach.
“Are you alright?”
Lucy pushed her chair away from the table. “If we’re done I need to go home. My doctor thinks I have an ulcer.” She looked at Megan. “Imagine that. Me, an ulcer, after everything that happened this year.”
The last couple of times Megan had seen Lucy she’d noticed Lucy didn’t look well. She was pale and seemed emotionally spent. Megan knew the trial would be stressful but she was concerned about what a toll it already was taking on her. Megan got up from the table. “What can I do to help you?”
“Nothing. I appreciate your asking though. I just need to go home and take my medicine and relax.”
“Let me know if you need anything. It’s going to be alright. “
Lucy smiled and Megan watched her walk out the door. Megan stayed in the room a few minutes longer, collecting her thoughts. How would Lucy hold up under the full pressure of a trial? she wondered. Mattingly had been hard on her today but the stress of actually going through a trial was a whole different thing. This deposition paled in comparison. If Mattingly tore her apart on cross examination it could be disastrous. And if Lucy couldn’t hold up under all the pressure, not only Mattingly attacking her from every angle and prying into all aspects of her life, but the press snooping around and dogging her every step, there would be no case and the worst nightmare would come true: Another powerful man who’d committed a violent sexual assault on a woman would walk free.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Steve Windfield tossed one newspaper after another down on the desk in front of Megan. “Look at this.” He pointed to the array of media from all over the country.
“Endless press coverage of this case. It’s the Justice Tarkington factor combined with Me Too. You’d think all that Me Too stuff would have died down by now.”
Megan leaned forward and looked at it all.
“Hell,” Windfield went on, “I even got a call from some women in Texas who’ve formed a support group for men who are wrongfully accused. She chewed on me for about twenty minutes, telling me how awful it was. I would allow a prosecution to go forward with you as prosecutor and no other witnesses supporting Lucy’s claim.” He rubbed his forehead, flopped down in the chair, reached into his top desk drawer, and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He shook out two, popped them into his mouth, and washed them down with a swig of Coke. He tilted back in his chair. He looked weary, without a trace of the enthusiasm he’d shown when he took on the case and then forced Lucy to go through with it when she tried to back out. Back then he was positively aglow with excitement about the media attention the trial would bring and how much it would help his chances of getting reelected as prosecutor. Now he just seemed annoyed that he even had to deal with Megan on the case.
“Maybe I didn’t think this through,” he said. “Tarkington and Mattingly are working the media from every angle with the idea that you have an ax to grind with the firm and that’s why you’re helping prosecute Tarkington. I’m stunned that people are buying into that silliness. I’m not sure this has been a good idea. I worry about getting an impartial jury.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Are you saying you want to fire me?” It sure sounded like that to her. She felt her insides tighten. Part of her liked the idea of being fired. That would be one way to get out of this circus, to not have to deal with the discomfort that rose up in her whenever she thought about trying another rape case. But the other part of her felt furious that Windfield might be entertaining the possibility of getting another prosecutor to handle this case.
Windfield shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said waving his hands. “However, I do think we need to do some damage control. I scheduled a press conference for tomorrow at two. So far we haven’t responded to anything that Mattingly has put out to the press about you—all this vendetta bullshit.”
Megan noticed that Windfield, who typically had nerves of steel, seemed rattled.
“I didn’t think all their media propaganda would get much play . . . but I was wrong. “ He paused. “ We have to address these allegations to protect your credibility as prosecutor.”
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Megan let out a sigh of exasperation. “Look, Steve, I have no problem stepping down if that’s what it takes. I want Lucy to win and I’ll do whatever it takes for her to have the best chance.” She shook her head. “I’m tired of living in this fishbowl. I went out to get my newspaper the other day and some TV guy jumped out of a car and shoved a mike in my face and started asking questions.” She leaned back in her chair. “I won’t miss this craziness at all. Everywhere I go there’s someone in my face.”
Windfield rested his hands on the desk. “You can’t get out,” he said softly.
“I can’t?”
“If you get out now, then Mattingly and the media will have an even bigger field day. They’ll claim you got out because you were acting in bad faith toward Tarkington and it came to light.” Windfield leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. “Oh, I can see it now. “
“They have no proof that I have any bad intentions toward Tarkington,” Megan said angrily.
“We know that. But Mattingly’s trying this case in the media and hoping to make it really hard for us to get a jury that will be impartial. Hell, I got a call from a friend of mine in Oregon. He knew all about this case. He’s a prosecutor out there and he called to tell me we need to do some damage control. He said the more we don’t respond the more the public sees us as hiding something.”
Megan crossed her arms. “Oh, please.” She was so angry she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. “So we have to get down in the mud with Mattingly and Tarkington.”
Windfield said nothing.
“I’m here to help a victim of a crime. That’s it.” Megan stared at Windfield. She could see he was thinking and getting ready to say something.
“Look, I think we need to have the public see you.” He tapped his finger on the desk. “The public evidently needs to hear from the prosecutor’s office.”
“What are you saying?” Megan said impatiently.
“You need to be at the press conference tomorrow. I’ll address the press and then you should speak. Let the public see you and hear what you have to say.”
“I’m not playing games with Mattingly and the press.”
Windfield pointed his finger at her. “We need to do damage control, Megan. We have no choice. Otherwise, it’ll be almost impossible to get a good jury that isn’t against the victim from the start.”
Megan was taken aback by his anger. She could tell he was really worried about where Lucy’s case was headed.
“We have to fix it now. The press conference is set for tomorrow at two p.m. in the auditorium on the main floor of this building. I expect you to be there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Megan was seated on the stage behind the podium. She couldn’t believe the number of people who had come to hear what the prosecutor’s office had to say about the Tarkington case. From the looks of it there were around 1500 people crammed into the small auditorium on the first floor of the government building. Members of the media and members of the public were elbow to elbow waiting to hear the latest news. Windfield was right. People wanted to know what was really going on. Mattingly had done a great job of stirring up the public and making Tarkington look like the victim. In the audience were groups supporting Tarkington as well as supporters of Lucy.
Megan sat back and listened to Windfield address the crowd. He explained where the case was at as far as trial preparation and told the crowd that all safeguards were being taken to assure that Tarkington received a fair and impartial trial. He said that it was a prosecutor’s duty to uphold the law and he took that duty very seriously, that Tarkington would receive no special treatment as the grandson of a Supreme Court justice and would be tried just like any other defendant, with the same protection the law gave to everyone accused.
“At this time I would like to introduce the special prosecutor handling this matter, Megan O’Reilly.” Windfield turned and motioned for Megan to come forward. Camera flashes exploded all around the auditorium and reporters started yelling questions as she started toward the podium.
Windfield stepped back to the microphone and raised his hand. “Please, Ms. O’Reilly would like to speak and then afterwards she may take some questions.” He cast a glance around at the sea of faces. The roar of voices subsided.
Megan could feel herself shaking inside. She looked out at the crowd. Some of the faces looked welcoming—some didn’t. Megan grasped the podium and held on as tightly as she could. She felt as if her legs were going to give out. From years of trying cases in front of juries she knew how to appear completely calm even when her insides were churning. “Good afternoon. I’m Megan O’Reilly, special prosecutor for the Craig Tarkington case.” She could hear a murmur of discontent threading through the crowd. “I wanted to introduce myself and let you meet me and understand my role in this case.” She cast a glance down at the notes she had made about the points she wanted to cover.
She started off by telling the crowd about her legal training and her career, noting that she had been a deputy prosecutor in the sex crimes division for over fifteen years before she came to work at the Tarkington firm slightly more than ten years ago. “While I was a sex crimes prosecutor at the prosecutor’s office I had the highest conviction rate to date.”
A soft round of applause broke out.
“I am proud to say that I was the prosecutor who obtained the conviction against Judge Booth—proving that no one is above the law.” The Booth case had been a front page trial that got national attention. “Judge Booth, a highly esteemed judge in D.C., retired amidst allegations of sexual assault against a member of his staff.”
“You didn’t happen to work for Judge Booth and get fired, did you?’ a reporter yelled.
A light sprinkling of laughter broke out.
Megan ignored the comment. She described her spotless career at the Tarkington firm and explained that Lucy Hatfield had requested that she take the role of special prosecutor in the case against Craig Tarkington. She told the crowd how she had initially refused.
“Doesn’t Windfield have seven floors of prosecutors?” another reporter yelled.
Megan looked towards the area where the voice had come from. “Mr. Windfield has a team of wonderful prosecutors. However, with my extensive background and experience Lucy Hatfield and then Mr. Windfield felt confident that I would be the best fit for this case.” She cleared her throat, picked up the small glass of water sitting on the podium, and took a sip.
Jeff Hawkins, a well-known reporter for The New York Times, stood up. Megan instantly recognized him. She felt her heart thumping in her chest. Jeff Hawkins covered the biggest stories and asked the toughest and most probing questions. He was tall with graying black hair and sharp features. Many people who had been subject to his questioning felt like he was Satan in human form.
“It seems interesting; Ms. O’Reilly, that you get fired and now you are prosecuting the grandson of the firm you’ve sued for wrongful termination. Mr. Windfield is a fine prosecutor with quite a few highly trained attorneys on staff who could handle this case. Why you then?” He cocked his head and looked at Megan.
Megan looked right at him, and then quickly looked around the room. She could tell that the other reporters were chomping at the bit to pounce on her. They were letting Hawkins lead the way.
Steve Windfield got up and walked to the podium. “I can answer that question for you, Mr. Hawkins. And I am probably the best one to answer it since I’m the one who hired Megan as special prosecutor in this case.”
Megan stood silently, grateful to have Windfield at the podium with her. It wasn’t true that he had pursued her to be special prosecutor—she had requested it herself, because Lucy was so desperate to have her take the job. But she was grateful to Steve now for just saying he had hired her instead of going into all that.
“Megan O’Reilly is the highest trained sex crimes prosecutor in the D.C. area. You can check that out with the legal education division of the bar association.
She also has the highest conviction rate.” Windfield nodded in the direction of Hawkins and sat back down.
Hawkins waved his hand as if to completely dismiss Windfield’s comments. “Ms O’Reilly, I am asking you this question, once again: Why are you agreeing to handle this case? I’m not interested in why Windfield wanted you to come on board, I get that. What I don’t get is why you would agree to come back and prosecute one case—that case being against the grandson of a Supreme Court justice and the founder of the firm you were fired from and have sued for wrongful termination. Can you honestly say you don’t have an ulterior motive?”
Megan stepped back up to the podium. She thanked Windfield and turned to look at Hawkins. She took hold of the podium and stood for several seconds collecting her thoughts. She hadn’t wanted to take on this trial but another part of her did want to, and for basically the same reasons. For years as a prosecutor she had championed the cause of women who had been victims of violent sexual attacks. She was known to leave no stone unturned and fought for the victim with every bit of her ability. If something didn’t go as she had hoped during trial—for example, a witness for the prosecution didn’t come across well before the jury—she’d felt flashes of frustration and anger. She prepared a case until it was air tight.
Over the years, reporters and other people had asked her where her intense passion came from and why she seemed to take any loss or problem in a case so personally. In the past she had given a variety of plausible reasons. At least, she thought they were plausible. But today with Jeff Hawkins asking the question she knew she would have to give the real reason, as hard as that was going to be, as much as everything inside her was screaming at her not to.
She looked around the room and then at Hawkins. She took a deep breath. “I am a survivor of a rape.”
A wave of hushed voices washed across the room.
Megan felt emotion welling up inside her. In all the years since the attack she had never come out and said those words.
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