I Speak For This Child: True Stories of a Child Advocate (44 page)

The attorney stepped forward like a preacher about to anoint the congregation. “Mr. Stevenson is presumed innocent unless his guilt is so clearly proven that you, the jury, can see that no reasonable doubt remains as to the guilt of the person charged. I ask you to do your duty and decide whether the evidence in this case makes you fully convinced and satisfied as to a moral certainty—
a moral certainty
—that Richard Leroy Stevenson, Sr., is guilty of sexual battery on his minor child beyond a reasonable doubt.” His tone lowered again to sound as paternal as possible. “For, if after you deliberate, you have reason to question any or all of the testimony, you must not send this man to prison for what will certainly be close to the balance of the rest of his natural life.”

The defense attorney hung his head. “Please go and deliberate with guidance of God, and with honest appreciation of all of us here. Thank you.”

I wanted Walt Hilliard’s business card in case anyone I knew ever needed a criminal lawyer. Jeremiah Stevenson had mortgaged his house and used the last of his savings to pay the retainer, but for them it had been worth it. After that summation, it would be difficult to convict this man.

Clearly at a disadvantage, Grace Chandler came forward to give her rebuttal closing. She gazed at the jury at eye level, then turned to indicate Mr. Hilliard seated at the table with his client. “You have just been entertained by great theatrics, but do not be deceived that they were anything but that. Mr. Hilliard is manipulating your emotions and ignoring that there are hard, cold facts that Mr. Stevenson has sexually molested at least three children over many years duration. I can’t feel sorry for Mr. Stevenson, and I can’t concern myself about how he might fare in prison when he did not concern himself how his natural born children would suffer for the rest of their lives from the deep psychological wounds he inflicted on them to satisfy his own lust.

“Yes, you must find him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, but that does not have to be an abiding conviction of guilt. As you deliberate whether the state has proved that this father did to his daughter what is charged, you, the jury, are permitted to take into consideration what he also did to his son as well as to Sunny Rhodes.”

Grace lifted her chin righteously. “Defense attorneys use many tactics to deflect your concerns. Notice that Mr. Hilliard became the most upset when talking about Sunny Rhodes. Her testimony was the strongest, most corroborating evidence. She was molested when she was almost the same age that Alicia was when her first penetrations began. Sunny Rhodes was examined by a doctor, who has verified the physical findings of sexual abuse. I do not know why Mr. Stevenson was not charged for that crime, but he did abuse her, just as he abused his natural daughter, Alicia, in the same manner.”

Grace was not speaking from notes, so she hesitated now and then. “You see in front of you a pleasant-looking man dressed in a suit and tie. It is difficult for good people to comprehend that a man could have sexual intercourse with his own children. But it does happen. Pedophiles are people with serious mental problems. There is no logic to what pedophiles do. And they are clever. They must get the object of their desire through subterfuge. Alicia was groomed by her father with little kindnesses and gifts, even money. He conspired with her and made her feel she was doing something special. ‘He boxed her in, made her keep the secret, until she finally felt strong enough to reveal it.

“Remember the words ‘violent, forceful, hard, pounding sex’? These were not Alicia’s words. These were the attorney’s phrases. The truth is even more difficult to grasp. Alicia’s father was kind and loving to her. This father taught his daughter that loving a parent meant having sex with him. And, you have heard her say, that despite everything, she still loves her father, proving that what happened between them had a loving, if perverted, aspect to it.”

There was a long pause as the prosecutor allowed this awful truth to permeate the room. Grace turned to the audience, then back to the jury. “We have heard four children testify in this courtroom. Either three are lying and one is telling the truth, or three are telling the truth and one is lying. To evaluate whether Cory Stevenson might be the solitary one telling the truth, you must consider his underlying interest. He has been utterly miserable in foster care. Home is the haven to which he wants to return. Now let’s look at another of the defense’s star witnesses. Dee Smiley is the one person who has testified that Alicia may have lied. Yet Mrs. Smiley is the only person who has recanted her story. For some reason she has ignored Alicia’s cry for help and has befriended the abuser.” Grace shook her head sadly. “You saw Mrs. Smiley. You decide if she made a credible witness or not.”

Grace Chandler stiffened her spine. “This case has shattered the childhood of at least four young people. The Stevenson children will never be the same. Even if Cory has not admitted abuse, he will have to live with himself and his problems. Isn’t it pathetic to realize that Mr. Stevenson, who admits that he was horribly abused as a child, may have passed on the same legacy to his children? But these insidious violations can be stopped. They must be stopped. Molestation is a common result of being abused as a child. Please, help put an end to the cycle of abuse now!”

While the jury deliberated, the different parties in the case formed into islands on the first floor of the courthouse and spilled out on the steps. Red Stevenson was surrounded by Walt Hilliard, the attorney’s partner, Cory, and his grandfather. Dee Smiley was outside smoking with another woman, who was wearing tight black stirrup slacks, a black satin blouse with a rose embroidered across the chest. I saw Red Stevenson come up behind the other woman, slip his hand around her waist, and give her an intimate squeeze.

Rich had been returned to Janet’s mother’s home Friday afternoon and had not been recalled on Monday, so Mitzi Keller joined Ruth Levy and Alicia while the other HRS employees, including Cynthia, formed a flank of support nearby. Lillian left to call the Guardian ad Litem office. Not knowing what else to do, I circulated between Cory’s camp and Alicia’s followers like a hostess for the cast party of “Family Feud.”

When I was standing beside Cory, his grandfather pleaded with me.

“Please, no matter what happens, may Cory come home with me tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied sympathetically.

“I don’t want to be alone,” the grandfather said, his body trembling like a cornered coon.

Cory had pasted on a chipper expression. “Don’t worry, Gramps. I know it is going to turn out just like it is supposed to be.”

I didn’t have the heart to prepare Cory to have his balloon burst. What would it matter? If it burst, it burst, and I would deal with the fallout.

I noticed that Alicia had drifted away from Ruth. I eased away from Cory and over to her. I put my arm around her shoulder. “Almost over.”

Alicia wasn’t paying attention to me. She was watching her father.

“You want to talk to him?” I dared ask.

“Uh-huh,” she muttered under her breath.

I looked around the corridor. The attorneys were talking elsewhere and Jeremiah was sitting on a bench with Cory. Steering her slightly with the pressure of my arm, I led Alicia to her father.

“Dad …,” she said in a whisper.

Red looked at her, his eyes shining with tears. “I never meant to hurt you with anything I did.”

“I know. Me too.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Alicia headed for the water fountain, pretending that is where she had been going the whole time.

Then Lillian was by my side. “How are you doing, Gay?”

“Numb. You know, no matter what happens, nothing is solved for any of these children.”

In less than an hour and a half we were called back into the courtroom. Walt Hilliard took this as a fortuitous sign. In the elevator he was patting his client on the back. “They couldn’t have had much to deliberate over. You’ll see.”

Red was not so confident. He was trembling. As the door opened he spoke to me. “You’re planning to keep my boy from me no matter what happens?”

I looked him in the eye. “No. I’ll do what is best for Cory, even if it means fighting HRS.”

For the first time the children were allowed in the audience of the courtroom. Cory sat to my left, flanked by Marta Castillo on his other side. Alicia was to my right, sitting beside Ruth Levy. I stared straight ahead as the jury foreman handed the verdict to the bailiff, who gave it to the judge, who passed it back.

Then it was read aloud.

“Not guilty.”

Cory jumped out of his seat. “Told you!” I held him down until the judge dismissed the jury, then I allowed Cory to pull me along with him to see his grandfather. Jeremiah was clutching his chest and breathing erratically.

I started back to Alicia, who was crying against Ruth’s bosom, but the reporters circling Grace Chandler made it impossible for me to get to her. I watched as Ruth led her out the door.

Grace was ashen. “This typifies the difficulty in getting a conviction in sexual battery cases in this county,” she said to the reporters. “Now you see why victims fear pressing charges.”

Red Stevenson was being interviewed by another reporter. “I just knew the truth would be told, but I was scared like anyone would be.”

“What are your plans for the future?” Red was asked.

“I’m going to try to get a job, get my son back, and my life together.”

“Will you remain in the area?”

“I’ve been here for sixteen years, and I now have no reason to leave.”

Extricating myself from Cory, I eventually made my way to Grace Chandler’s office. The prosecutor was sitting beside Alicia on the couch. Tears streaked Grace’s cheeks as she told a story of something that had happened to her grandmother. I had missed the first part but heard the ending.

“She told me, ‘Don’t worry, they’ll get theirs in the end.’ And your father will get his too.”

“Nobody believed me,” Alicia said, her voice more furious than sad.

“I believed you,” Grace said sincerely.

“Guess I can’t sit at your desk anymore,” Alicia said dejectedly.

“Sure you can. You can come to see me anytime.”

Ruth had to be home for the other girls and asked me to join them as soon as I could. I said I would and then spent a few moments alone with Grace. I thanked her for everything and she generously acknowledged my assistance.

I ran my hand along the mahogany rim of her desk. “The most important thing you did was to give Alicia control of your office. It was therapeutic somehow.”

“I noticed that,” Grace replied simply. “And I meant it when I said I wanted her to come to visit. Tell her I care, okay?”

I spent the next hour sitting around the table at the Levy household trying to deflect questions from Alicia’s furious foster sisters. “It just goes to show you,” one of them said, “adults can abuse kids as much as they want and get away with it.”

“Yeah,” another one chimed in, “nobody has ever listened to us and nobody ever will.”

My next stop was to the Castillos’. Marta had bought Cory’s favorite coffee ice cream and they offered me a bowl. “When can he go home?” Marta asked.

“I don’t know.”

“May he call his father?”

“Yes, of course. Call him now if you want.”

There was only one course of action for Cory. He had to go home, otherwise he would never accept a placement in a foster home or be willing to visit his mother.

As soon as Mitzi heard my viewpoint, she became irate and said she would never be party to “offering up a child to a pedophile on a platter.”

“Cory can resist sexual advances from his father,” I argued. “Also, do you think after Red’s recent experiences in jail and court, he would try anything with his son?”

“He’s free to molest anyone he wants.”

“That’s true. He’s a free man, and there is nothing you or I can do about that.”

“Oh, no?” Mitzi said. “I can hold Cory in foster care.”

“Why? To prove a point or keep him safe? You know Cory had some sort of sexual escapade at the ranch and another at the Levys’ with Larry, so what are you protecting him from when you keep him away from the one place he wants to be?”

I started to build a case for sending Cory home.

Red had finished the parenting class required by the performance agreement. Cory’s therapist, Dr. Farrington, said he would write a report suggesting that Cory be allowed to have a trial visit home again, but only if he continued in therapy and remained under the court’s protection as a child in need of services.

Next the guidance counselor reported that Cory had been suspended from school because a friend of the Castillos had come by claiming to be his brother and had signed him out. When Mitzi heard this, she claimed it was proof that “Cory is like his father and brother, and to send him home would be to insure he would become a criminal.”

I reminded Mitzi that HRS did not have a sterling record for parenting him either and that this latest incident involved a friend of the foster parents and not anyone in his family. “I think Cory is trying to tell us that he is going to continue to act out until he gets his way and goes home.”

“So, you think we should reward that behavior?” Mitzi asked as a challenge.

“I believe he will never accept the rules of HRS, or society, because he feels he and his father have been wronged. Now his father has been cleared by a jury of his peers, further justifying Cory’s position.”

“But, Gay,” Mitzi pleaded, “you believe Red is a pedophile, don’t you?”

“I think Red molested Alicia, Sunny, Dawn, and all the other girls, and I think he murdered his first wife. I think he is a creep and a lousy father. And I believe that Cory will figure this out after he lives there again. When he does, he can decide whether to return to foster care, this time with a positive attitude, or go to his mother in Washington State.”

“That’s probably where we are going to send him anyway.”

“Not without his agreement, Mitzi. I won’t have him transported like luggage.”

“That’s where we differ.”

“There’s a judicial review coming up in a month with Judge Donovan, who presided over the trial. He heard the evidence,” I said. “You and I will both present the facts to him and he can decide.”