Dying Declaration (37 page)

62

NIKKI WAS WEARING
out the rug in the small windowless conference room on Thursday morning. Thomas, Theresa, and Tiger watched her pace. They were all waiting on Charles.

Nikki looked at her watch. Court would start in ten minutes.

“How much longer?” Thomas asked.

“I’m not sure,” Nikki said. “These sessions in the judge’s chambers can sometimes run right up until court starts. When I
left, Charles was still arguing his motion.”

“What motion?” Thomas asked.

“That the Barracuda not be allowed to question Tiger about what type of parents you’ve been.”

“Why not?” Thomas looked dumbfounded.

“Because she’ll imply that you’ve abused your children and that’s got nothing to do with whether you took Joshua to the hospital in time for treatment. She just wants to use some statements that Tiger made to a child psychiatrist to raise the suspicion of abuse and fire up the jury.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Tiger asked.

“No, sweetie,” Theresa said. She reached out her hand and started rubbing his hair.

“C’mere, buddy,” Thomas said. Tiger hustled to the other side of the table and climbed into his daddy’s lap.

“Look at me,” Thomas said. Tiger lifted his chin and looked squarely in his daddy’s eyes. “Now, I want you to listen real carefully to what I’m about to say. Okay, Tiger?”

Tiger nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Daddy’s done a lot of things wrong in his life, Tiger, and I’m just plain sorry about them.” Tiger started to object, to defend his daddy against these self-inflicted charges, but Thomas put his finger on the boy’s lips. “Shh, just listen.”

Nikki stopped pacing. There was something special going on here, and she didn’t want to miss it.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think while I’ve been in prison, Tiger. And I been doin’ a lot of prayin’ and readin’ my Bible.” Thomas swallowed hard, a glimmer of moisture coming to his eyes. “I realize I been way too hard on you and Stinky, way too strict. There’s been too many spankings and not enough love . . .” Thomas’s voice began to crack, but he swallowed again and continued.

“If ’n I ever get out of here, things are gonna change. I’m gonna change. We’ll need help from others, people who can make me be a better dad. But I want you to know one thing, Tiger. Regardless of what happens today, I’m proud of you and—” Thomas looked down as he completed his sentence, unable to look at Tiger as he said it—“I love you, Son, no matter what.”

Tiger instinctively hugged his daddy’s neck. Thomas hugged him back, practically squeezing the air right out of him. “Just plain tell the truth today on the witness stand,” Thomas whispered. “Don’t you worry ’bout what I’m gonna think or what anybody else is gonna think. Just tell the truth, and everything’ll be all right.”

Tears began welling in Thomas’s eyes.

Nikki, who had been watching in silence, her hands pressed together with her fingers gently touching her lips, suddenly realized that it was the first time in this entire ordeal she had ever seen Thomas cry.

After his dad’s pep talk, Tiger approached round three of Tiger versus the Mean Lady more confident than ever. After all,
he was now a certified karate expert, making great progress on his yellow belt. His job was easy: just tell the truth. Okay,
maybe his daddy was acting a little strange, but Tiger wouldn’t worry about that right now. He had a very important job to do. He was now the man of the house, and today he would prove his worth.

He had left the small conference room and sat on the hard wooden bench in the hallway of the courthouse, his cowboy boots dangling over the edge, waiting for his name to be called. He hated wearing his clip-on tie, but Miss Nikki had assured him that even cowboys had to dress up when they went to court.

He had practiced all kinds of questions and answers with Miss Nikki early this morning and seemed to get them all right. He was ready to do his part in springing his dad from jail. He would set this jury straight. He was a lean, mean, truth-telling machine.

And he was ready.

Suddenly the big courtroom doors opened, and a man with a gun and uniform called out his name.

“John Paul Hammond.”

With a quizzical look, Tiger pointed toward his chest, as if to say, “You mean me?”

“Are you John Paul?” the huge man asked.

“Uh-huh,” Tiger said.

“Then come on in.” The big man held the door open and pointed down the aisle.

Tiger peeked inside and froze in his tracks. It seemed like there were a thousand people inside, all turned to stare at him. The aisle looked as long as a football field, and the judge sat at the other end of it way up high, looking stern.

Tiger told his legs to move, to start heading down the aisle. They didn’t seem to hear. So instead, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open, waiting for Miss Nikki to come down the aisle from the front and lead him in by the hand.

They made him raise his right hand and swear to tell the truth. He was planning on doing that anyway. Then he climbed up in the witness chair and watched in petrified silence as Mr. Charles lowered the mike so that it came down to eye level.

Mr. Charles walked a few steps away and smiled. “Good morning, John Paul.”

“Yes, sir,” Tiger said. Somehow his voice came out in a squeak. He hardly recognized it.

“Could you please tell the ladies and gentlemen of the jury your name and how old you are?”

“Um . . . sure.” Tiger looked down at his shaking hands and decided to tuck them under his legs. “John Paul Hammond. Five and a half.”

“Do you have a nickname, buddy?”

“Yep . . . I mean, yes, sir.”

“And what is it?”

“Tiger.”

“Now, Tiger, are you the son of Thomas and Theresa Hammond?”

“Yes, sir, that’s me.”

Tiger had practiced these questions and answers many times. He started to loosen up a little and look around.

“And were you living with your mom and dad and Joshua when little Joshie got sick?”

“And Stinky,” Tiger corrected Mr. Charles.

“And Stinky,” Mr. Charles repeated.

“Yes, I was.”

“Did your mom and dad at some point take Joshie to the hospital?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now this is a very important question, Tiger. Do you remember how many days Joshie was sick before your mom and dad took him to the hospital?”

Tiger knew the answer: two days. He had practiced it many times early this morning and it also happened to be the truth. But Tiger decided to add a little drama to his answer—after all, the cameras were rolling. So he scrunched up his forehead and looked hard at the ceiling, as if he were searching for the answer. After a few seconds, when he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he went ahead and said it.

“I’m pretty sure he was sick for dus’ two days. We took him to the hop-sicle on the third day.”

“Are you sure about that, Tiger?”

“Um . . . yes, sir.”

It seemed to Tiger that Mr. Charles let out a big puff of breath, as if he had just come up from a long underwater swim.

“Now, Tiger, did that lady sitting there at counsel table—” Mr. Charles turned and pointed at the Mean Lady—“did she ask you a few questions on videotape about Joshie?”

Tiger narrowed his gaze and shot the Mean Lady a nasty look. He didn’t like what he was about to do, and it was all her fault.

“Yes, sir.”

“And did you tell her the truth when you answered all those questions?”

Tiger shrugged his shoulders. “Not really,” he said. He happened to look past Mr. Charles and directly at his dad, who gave him a stern look as soon as he heard the answer. “I mean . . . no, I didn’t.”

His dad nodded.

“In what respect did you not tell the truth?” Mr. Charles asked.

“I told her—” Tiger nodded his head toward the Mean Lady—“that Joshie had been sick for five days.”

“Was that true?” Mr. Charles asked.

How many times have I got to say this?
Tiger wondered.
And whose side are
you on anyway?
“No,” he said softly.

“Then why did you tell her that?”

At this, Tiger looked right at the Mean Lady, just as Miss Nikki had told him to do. “’Cause afore she turned the camera on,
she telled me it might help my daddy get out of jail if he waited a long time afore he took Joshie to the hopsicle. The lady—” Tiger had thought about calling her Mean Lady, just for emphasis, but decided not to—“telled me the story of Abe-ham and Isaac and what a great man Abe-ham was cause he waited three days on the mountain and was ready to kill his son afore God sent a goat. So I dus’ said if Abe-ham waited three days, my daddy prob’ly waited five.”

“But did your dad really wait five days before taking Josh to the hospital?”

“No, sir. I made it up.”

“Thank you, Tiger, that’s all I have. Please answer any questions that Ms. Crawford might have.”

“Okay,” Tiger said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. The Mean Lady did not look happy.

63

NIKKI COULDN’T RESIS
T
a smile as she watched her cute little protégé on the stand. He was dwarfed by the massive courtroom and the judge’s bench that towered over the witness box. Tiger had hammed it up a little on direct examination, but that was to be expected. All in all, the little bugger had followed the script and done a masterful job.

Now came the hard part.

The Barracuda strode forward and positioned herself directly between Nikki and the witness stand. Nikki could no longer see Tiger as he talked, her view blocked by the unflattering backside of the Barracuda. Nikki wished a few of the shots for Court TV would use this angle. She scooted over slightly to the right but still couldn’t get Tiger in her line of sight.

“So you lied before to help your daddy?”

“Yes, ma’am. I guess so.”

“Even though you knew it was wrong?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But this morning, you just happened to remember that Joshie was sick for three days instead of five days, and you want everyone to believe that’s the truth?” The Barracuda spoke softly, but her words were like daggers hurled at the little guy. Nikki did not envy Crawford on this cross. She had to cast some doubt on Tiger’s testimony without seeming like she was picking on him.

“Um . . . y-y-yes, ma’am.”

“Was it your idea to come into this courtroom and change your story or did somebody else—” the Barracuda now turned and pointed to Charles and Nikki—“like Mr. Charles Arnold or Miss Nikki Moreno tell you that you should do this?”

When the Barracuda moved, Nikki could see the fright in Tiger’s eyes as he contemplated the question. His eyes grew as he stared at Nikki, as if afraid to implicate her, yet mindful of his unbending obligation to tell the truth.

“Yes,” he said at last. “It was Miss Nikki’s idea.”

“Let the record reflect,” the Barracuda said forcefully, “that the witness is pointing at Nikki Moreno, who is working for the defendants and has served as the court appointed special advocate for the children pending trial.”

The Barracuda turned back toward Tiger and took a few steps closer. She was blocking Nikki’s view again. Nikki could stand it no longer and moved to an empty seat at the far end of counsel table.

“And did you and Ms. Moreno practice questions and answers that you might be asked today?”

Tiger nodded.

Nikki felt her pulse quicken, the blood rising in her neck. The Barracuda was leading this poor kid, one step at a time, like a lamb to the slaughter. Nikki glanced toward Charles.
Do something!

“Let the record reflect the witness nodded his head, answering in the affirmative,” the Barracuda said to the court reporter. Then she turned back to Tiger and lowered her voice. “And did she help you decide what to say for your answers?”

More nodding from Tiger. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought,” said the Barracuda, who was actually smiling at Tiger. She then took a few steps back to her own counsel table and picked up a piece of paper.

It was the opening Tiger had been waiting for. He could sense that things were not exactly going his way. The look on his dad’s face. Miss Nikki’s, too, for that matter. This Mean Lady was a bigger bully than Doughy Joey.

But Tiger had a secret weapon.

The other night he had watched carefully as Miss Nikki applied the Power Ranger tattoo to his upper arm. Just wet the little piece of paper and rub it on—no big deal. The lucky thing was that more than one tattoo was on that same piece of paper. Miss Nikki had thrown the others in the trash, but Tiger had scooped them out and saved them.

So now, as the Mean Lady stepped back to her table, Tiger quickly unbuttoned the cuff of his ragged white shirt and started rolling up the sleeve. He thought he remembered putting it on his right forearm . . . Yep, there it was, a little messy, the colors running together.

He flexed his little arm and put his elbow on the rail in front of him, resting his chin on his fist. It wasn’t exactly a natural pose, but it got the job done. When the Mean Lady turned around, she would sure be surprised . . . and probably a little scared. It would serve her right.

She would be staring right at his newest Power Ranger tattoo.

“Oh my goodness,” Nikki heard Theresa Hammond whisper. Nikki felt the eyes of Thomas Hammond boring into her, no doubt remembering Nikki’s own tattoo on her left shoulder.

“Where did he get that?” Theresa wondered. Thomas nodded his head in Nikki’s direction.

The Barracuda turned toward the judge, not yet noticing her beaming little witness. “I would like to introduce into evidence,
as our next exhibit, this court order regarding custody, which forbids the Hammond children from having any unchaperoned contact with their parents.”

Nikki could hear one or two of the jurors snicker. Silverman had his own hand nonchalantly over his mouth, probably suppressing a grin.

“I would like to draw particular attention to paragraph three, which mentions that one of the reasons for this stipulation is the possible prejudice that would result in the testimony of the children if such contact were allowed.”

The Barracuda finally seemed to realize that she was the only one in the courtroom missing something. She glanced at Tiger,
snickered without thinking, and shook her head.

The courtroom burst into laughter. Tiger looked stunned.

“That’s really nice,” the Barracuda said.

“Thanks.”

Then she lowered her tone, a signal that the fun and games were over. “Now, are you ready to roll your sleeve back down and answer some more questions?”

Tiger shot a puzzled look toward his dad and then scrunched up his worried little brow. Nikki didn’t dare look at the expression on Thomas’s face, but she knew it promised Tiger a heap of trouble later. “Sorry,” Tiger said quickly. “It’s dus’ a tattoo.”

“I know,” the Barracuda said, “but let’s get back to the questions.”

Tiger quickly rolled down his sleeve, and Nikki surveyed the jury. Most were smiling. One of the moms had her head tilted to the side, the softest look of sympathy on her face.

The Barracuda stiffened. “Now, John Paul, have you had any contact with your mom or dad when Ms. Moreno was not present between the time of your original videotaped statement and your testimony in court today?”

Tiger looked thoroughly confused and just shrugged his shoulders.

“Okay, let me ask it this way.” The Barracuda moved over in front of the jury box. “Before today, when is the last time you saw your mom?”

“Last night,” Tiger said helpfully.

“What time?”

“The whole night. Me and Stinky stayed overnight there.”

“Stinky is a nickname for your sister, right?”

“Oops,” Tiger said, smiling an embarrassed smile. “Her name is really Hannah.”

“Was Ms. Moreno there with you and Hannah the whole night?”

“No, ma’am. She dropped us off.”

Nikki noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Silverman glaring at her. Nikki decided to keep her gaze fixed on the witness.

“So regardless of what the court order says, Ms. Moreno dropped you off at your mom’s house for the entire night last night. Then the next day—today—you come in here and change your testimony?”

“Objection,” Charles interjected as he stood. “Argumentative.”

“I guess so,” Tiger said.

Charles turned up his palms and sat down.

“In addition to telling you what to say as a witness and violating a court order by dropping you off at your mom’s house,
did Ms. Moreno ever say anything bad about the police or myself?” the Barracuda asked.

This brought Charles to his feet again. “Objection. Ms. Moreno is not on trial here.”

“Goes to bias, Your Honor,” Crawford said. “And to witness tampering.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Nikki shot back, now also standing.

“Sit down,”
Silverman snarled. He gave Nikki an icy stare as she took her seat. Then he turned to Charles. “Your objection is overruled, Mr. Arnold. I think it does go to the issue of bias.”

All eyes turned back to Tiger, who had that deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Do you remember the question?” the Barracuda asked.

Tiger vigorously shook his head from side to side.

“Did Nikki Moreno ever say anything bad about the police officers or about myself?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was barely a whisper. Tiger looked down, embarrassed, his hands tucked under his thighs.

“What did she say?” the Barracuda asked. “And when did she say it?”

Tiger hesitated for the longest time, perhaps racking his brain for a loophole in his obligation to tell the whole truth. Apparently he could find none. “She called you a witch,” Tiger said firmly. A few of the jurors snickered.

“A
witch
,” the Barracuda said emphatically. “Imagine that. Are you sure
witch
was the word she used as opposed to something that sounds like
witch
?”

“Oh yes, ma’am,” Tiger said, “’cause I asked her to say it again dus’ to make sure.”

“And when was this?” the Barracuda asked condescendingly.

“Well,” Tiger said, pursing his lips and wrinkling his forehead as he thought, “one day we were playing secret agents, spying on that doctor guy’s house in the middle of the day—” Nikki slouched down in her seat, wishing she could become invisible—“and then, all a sudden, we saw you! And Miss Nikki said, ‘She’s a witch,’ and then we saw you go inside—”

“That’s not what I asked,” the Barracuda interrupted sharply. “I only asked what she called me and when this was.” The Barracuda’s face suddenly flushed. “Judge, I ask that his remarks be stricken from the record.”

Charles was on his feet once again. “Judge,” he cried, “the witness is entitled to finish his answer.”

Tiger’s eyes darted back and forth from Charles to the Barracuda and then quickly to Nikki. Then suddenly, in the split second while everyone waited for a ruling from Judge Silverman, Tiger decided to take his right hand out from under his leg and raise it straight up in the air, as if he were the smart kid who sits in the front row of the classroom and knows all the answers.

“Son, you may put your hand down,” Silverman said kindly. Tiger looked confused but obeyed the judge’s instruction. “However, I will not strike his answer from the record. Ms. Crawford, you asked the question. Just because you don’t like the answer does not mean that it’s irrelevant.”

The Barracuda crossed her arms and stared at Silverman.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Charles said.

For the next few seconds, the Barracuda made an elaborate display of going back to her counsel table and checking through some notes. Tiger’s eyes followed her every step of the way. Finally, she looked at the judge and said simply, “No further questions,” then took her seat.

Charles rose immediately. “A brief rebuttal, Your Honor?”

“Keep it short,” Silverman said.

Charles buttoned his suit coat and approached the witness stand. “I couldn’t help but notice that you had your hand up a few minutes ago when you were trying to answer one of Ms. Crawford’s questions. Was there something else you wanted to say?”

Tiger’s eyes brightened. “Yes, sir. She asked me when this happened, and I ’membered what happened as she was talking to .
. .” He pointed to Silverman.

“The judge,” Charles said.

Tiger, grateful for the chance to explain, spit the words out as quickly as his little tongue could go. “Yes, sir, the judge. But what I ’membered is that it happened the exact day after my daddy went to court the last time. ’Cause I got into a little fight with Doughy Joey at day care the last time my daddy went to court, but it wasn’t my fault, and we’re good friends now. So I was with Miss Nikki instead of being in day care, and she called the Mean Lady a witch, and then I said, She really is a witch,’ and then Miss Nikki said how strange it was that the Mean’uh, the lady over there—would be at the doctor’s house instead of meeting at the office in the middle of the day on the very next day after everybody had gone to court. And Miss Nikki said there must be somethin’ strange goin’ on between them cause there’s dus’ no reason for that ’cept—”

“Objection, Judge,”
the Barracuda shouted. “This is nothing but pure hearsay.”