Aftermath (43 page)

“You say that young Shane points to the deceased as his predator only now, after months of saying nothing?” The DA sounded skeptical.

“It's normal for a child to withhold the identity of their attacker out of fear. Particularly a child as young as Shane.”

“What explanation has he been given for being removed from his mother's custody? How has that been explained to Shane?”

Ms. Thomas reviewed her notes once more. “He's been told that his mother is away for a little while, but that she's coming back for him soon.”

“And what about the ‘bad man' as Shane refers to his predator? What has he been told has happened to the bad man?” DA Dean Davidson was staking his career on a win in this case. No amount of theatrics was going to allow Teresa Rourke to score an acquittal.

Ms. Thomas checked her notes again. “That the bad man was destroyed, and will never hurt Shane again.”

Dean was practically salivating now.

“Shane has been tormented by nightmares of his attacker, which he shared with us and with his father. In order to get Shane to fall back asleep at night, Mr. Crowley told his son that the bad man was gone forever.”

“Has Shane mentioned his uncle Steven by name since your investigation began?”

“No.”

“So how did he just spit out ‘Uncle Steven did it!' all of a sudden?”

Ms. Thomas didn't appreciate the prosecutor's sudden shift in tone. He was being downright accusatory. “Well, we asked him specifically about each of his closest family members, teachers—”

“So you
asked
him about his uncle Steven?”

“Yes, we—”

“What specifically did you ask him?”

“We just said the names of different people who've been close with Shane over the years and watched to see what his reaction would be.”

“Please give us the order of the names you recited to Shane.”

Ms. Thomas listed them: Misa (Mommy), Aunt Camille, Uncle Frankie, Grandma Lily, Uncle Steven. “His response to each name was noted. Each solicited a positive reaction. It was when we got to Uncle Steven that Shane stopped playing, laughing, and reacting positively. He grew quiet, withdrawn, went back to sucking his thumb. We repeated ‘Uncle Steven' to Shane and he said, ‘No!' His voice was loud and defiant and then his facial expression changed. He began to cry. We assured Shane that there was no need to cry and he eventually stopped. When we asked Shane if Uncle Steven was the bad man—”

“You
asked
the child point-blank if his uncle was the bad man?”

Ms. Thomas frowned slightly, nodding. “Yes, we did.”

“So is that what you're trained to do, Ms. Thomas? To tell a child what you want them to say? To imply that Uncle Steven was the bad man that haunts this toddler in his dreams?”

“OBJECTION!” Teresa was on her feet and her voice boomed loudly over the prosecutor. But Dean wasn't having it. He kept right on peppering Ms. Thomas with accusations.

“It's very likely that Shane, crying and afraid after being barraged with a list of names and questioned about his nightmares, just told you what you wanted to hear. Three years old, separated from his mother, and told that the bad man won't bother him anymore as long as he says that the bad man is Steven Bingham!”

“OBJECTION!” Teresa looked like she was ready to fight Dean Davidson as she stormed toward the bench.

Judge Felder banged his gavel and Misa looked on as the jury took it all in. She wondered what they were thinking, prayed that their minds hadn't been changed by the DA's twisted logic. The judge was fuming and the courtroom had erupted in anarchy. Demanding to see the lawyers in his chambers, court was recessed for the second time.

Camille rushed to Misa's side and hugged her sister tightly. “Are you all right?” she asked, pulling back but holding tight to Misa's hand.

Misa shook her head. “I knew it, Camille. I knew all along that it was him. I don't care what the DA says. My baby told the truth, Camille.”

Toya, Dominique, Lily, and Celia had formed a circle around the sisters as the nosy spectators looked on, hanging on their every word and movement. Leaning in, Toya whispered to Misa.

“Stay strong, girl. I'm watching the jury. They're paying attention and Teresa is doing a great job.”

“That's right,” Celia cosigned. “The truth always prevails.”

Frankie stared across the room at the circle of women surrounding Misa and Camille. He was oblivious to the
Staten Island Advance
reporter snapping a picture of him in profile, looking so perplexed as he stared at his brother's killer. The photo was a poignant one, showing the inner battle being waged within a man torn between a painful truth and his quest for justice.

Gillian didn't know how to feel. To her, it seemed that there was no victory for any them. Shane had been molested, Steven killed, Misa jailed. Camille had lost Frankie, but she was having his child. Gillian had lost her father, her mother, too, in some ways. Baron had fallen from grace, and Frankie had lost it all.

She wondered now if she and Frankie could survive this. Once, she had been so sure. Now, she couldn't imagine what the future held.

The attorneys and the judge finally emerged from chambers, Dean red-faced and Teresa looking as if she'd just been scolded by her high school principal. Judge Felder had warned them both to tone down their melodramatic camera-posturing or else.

Ms. Thomas took the stand for the third time that day, easily the most controversial witness called by either side so far.

The prosecution got back down to business. “I asked you if you've been trained to suggest possible suspects to children who've been victimized.”

Ms. Thomas didn't like the DA at all. “We did not
suggest
anything to the child. We are trained to make a child feel safe in speaking about what has been done to them and that was what we did.”

“You said that Shane had a negative reaction to hearing his uncle's name. And then you repeated ‘Uncle Steven' to which Shane yelled ‘No!' according to your testimony. Had you repeated any of the other names more than once?”

“No, because none of the other names elicited the reaction that Steven's did.”

“Please answer simply yes or no to the following questions,” Dean instructed. “Shane was told that the bad man was gone forever, correct?”

“Yes.”

“He was asked about the nightmares he has and he told you that he sees the bad man in his dreams, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You asked him to tell you who the bad man was and he refused?”

“Yes.”

“Then you listed names for him, repeating his uncle Steven's name twice, and everyone else's name only once. Is that correct?”

Ms. Thomas wanted to elaborate but knew she could only answer yes or no. This bastard was crafty. “Yes.”

“The second time you mentioned Uncle Steven, the child yelled ‘No!' Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you asked Shane if Uncle Steven was the bad man who hurt him, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had you been questioning the child at that point?”

Ms. Thomas reviewed her notes. “For less than an hour.”

Dean Davidson smirked at her. “You questioned a three-year-old child for close to an hour,” he remarked, “and when he told you that his uncle Steven was the bad man, did the questioning end?”

Ms. Thomas shrugged. “Not immediately.”

“So you continued to question him beyond that?”

“No,” she stammered. “What I'm saying is that we assured him that he was not in danger, that his mother would not be harmed. And he was upset. So we ended our session for the day and returned him to his family's care.”

“So you rewarded him by ending the session when he told you what you wanted to hear?”

“Objection!”

“I'll withdraw the question,” Dean said. “Ms. Thomas, why didn't you tell Mr. Crowley what his son had revealed to you during your session yesterday?”

“Mr. Crowley did not pick Shane up yesterday. His paternal grandmother did, and we decided to wait until we were able to meet with both parents before revealing our findings. Unfortunately, I was called to testify before I was able to meet with them.”

Misa felt so guilty then. Louis was pawning Shane off on his mother just as she had pawned him off on Camille. She wanted nothing more than to get her son back so that she could get a do-over.

“Ms. Thomas, one final question,” Dean said, much to her relief. “Do children often make mistakes when identifying their attackers?”

Ms. Thomas sighed. “From time to time, they do. But I wouldn't say that it happens often. And in this case, I believe Shane. I don't think he was making it up. I've seen hundreds of cases over the years. I've seen children lie and I've witnessed them fall apart when they face the adults who preyed upon them. And in my professional opinion, Shane is telling the truth. His uncle Steven sodomized him.”

“No further questions,” the prosecutor said, scowling as he sat back down.

After giving the jury some instructions on which testimony to consider and which things to disregard, the judge adjourned for the day, sending everyone home until first thing tomorrow morning.

Misa noticed that her lawyer and the DA were huddled together instead of retreating to their corners like boxers in the ring the way they usually did at the end of each day. She waited and watched as Frankie and Gillian sulked out of the courtroom. Camille watched, too, amazed at how little she had known about the man she called her husband for so many years. She wondered if she'd ever know the whole truth, even as she carried his child in her womb.

Self-Defense

May 15, 2008

Camille stood and stared out of the living room window, watching the flowers blooming on her sprawling lawn as spring arrived in New York City. This view had been one of her favorite parts of living in this house over the years. She looked around now at all the boxes labeled for the movers to take them to a storage unit until she could decide on where she wanted to go next. Her beloved house was being sold, her divorce papers had been signed, and her baby was due in only eight more weeks.

She marveled at how drastically things had changed in a year. The doorbell rang and she wobbled over to it and ushered her friends inside. Teresa had suggested that everyone meet at Camille's house that morning before heading to court. She had something she wanted to discuss and felt that everyone should gather together in private to weigh in.

Toya, Dominique, Misa, Lily, and Celia were all assembled in Camille's living room by the time Teresa arrived at eight-thirty in the morning. Misa sat there in the same room where she and Frankie had faced off on the night of the murder and she shuddered a little. So much time had passed, yet not nearly enough for the healing to begin. Teresa breezed in, thanked everyone for coming and got right down to business.

“The DA realizes that he may not win this case,” she said. “So he's offering you a plea deal.”

Misa's heart raced, wondering whether or not this was good news. “What kind of deal?”

“You plead guilty to second-degree manslaughter in exchange for five to fifteen years in prison.”

“Wow!” Lily muttered.

“What kind of a deal is that?” Toya asked.

Teresa unbuttoned her suit jacket and sat down among the forum of women. “The murder one charge carries a maximum sentence of—”

“Twenty-five to life,” Misa finished, fully aware of what she was facing.

The room fell silent, everyone weighing the odds.

“We've put on a good case,” Teresa said at last. “Obviously, the fact that Shane points to Steven as his attacker is in our favor. It shows the jury that you were correct in your assumption. Shane corroborates your theory. We've shown that Louis was no saint, either, and explained why you may have been flawed, as well.” Teresa shook her head, looking seriously at her client. “But you confessed. You claimed self-defense. So now, all we have is your testimony. If you roll the dice and proceed with the trial, you have to know that everything is riding on your performance on that stand.”

Misa didn't know what to do. She looked around at her mother, her sister, her friends. All of them loved her, but she alone was facing serious hard time in prison for murder. She wondered if she should take the deal, if she should accept responsibility for what she had done.

But when she thought about Shane, she shook her head. There was no way she could be away from her son for that long, no way that she could endure the horrors of prison knowing that her already wounded son was growing up without her. To her, going to prison would be the equivalent of a death sentence. If the jury decided that was what she deserved, so be it. She was prepared to accept it. But there was no way she was going down without a fight.

“For me, it's not a performance,” she said, correcting Teresa. “My life is riding on this. My son was all that I thought about that night and he's all I'll think about every day for the rest of my life if I get another chance. But I just want to tell my story, and explain why I did it. So then if they want to send me away for life, fine. But I have to have my say and I really need to know if I'm crazy for doing what I did.”

“You're not crazy,” Celia said, squeezing Misa's hand. She thought that Misa was incredibly brave. Aware that she and Baron were financing Misa's defense, she reassured her. “And you have my son's support regardless of what you decide. You will not be left alone, Misa.”

“Thank you, Miss Celia,” she said. Looking at Teresa, she said, “I don't want the deal. I'm ready to testify.”

Teresa nodded. “All right, well, today's the day.”

“Let's pray,” Lily suggested.

Misa and Camille looked at each other and struggled to suppress their laughter as they recalled the countless times their mother launched into evangelical sermons whenever she was called on to pray. They snickered at their private joke as Lily prayed that they all would gain the strength it took to endure the day ahead.