Authors: Leslie Dana Kirby
The Perfect Game (26 page)
“After more than a year of dating him? I don't buy it,” Lauren asserted.
Candace nodded in agreement, “Me neither.”
(Afternoon, Thursday October 12)
Madison Hart returned to the witness stand after lunch. Her lipstick had been carefully re-applied.
Candace resumed cross-examination. “From your testimony, it sounds like it was sort of a big deal when Jake would come through the drive-through at your work. Is that right?”
“Because he's famous and everything.”
“So you must have been pretty excited when he first asked to meet up with you, right?”
“Yeah, I was real excited about that.”
“So, you probably told all of your coworkers that he asked you out, right?”
Madison paused. “No. I didn't tell anybody because I knew he was married.”
“But you were so excited. You must have told somebody?”
“No, I didn't tell anybody.”
“You're close to your older sister, right?”
“Yes. She's two years older than me.”
“Did you tell her about your relationship with Mr. Wakefield?”
“No, I didn't tell anybody.”
Lauren reflected. She had always told Liz everything. But sisters could keep secrets from each other. Liz had proven that.
“Even after you became romantically involved with Mr. Wakefield, you still didn't tell anybody?”
“No, because we didn't want his wife or my parents to find out.”
Lauren watched the female jurors. Did they get it? How unlikely it was that a young inexperienced girl falls in love for the first time without confiding in anybody? Or were they too busy fantasizing about their own sexual trysts with Jake?
“And didn't your parents wonder where you were all those times that you were meeting the defendant secretively?”
“I told them I was going to a friend's house or to the library.”
Candace saw her opportunity, “So you lied.”
Madison hesitated. “Yes, about that.”
Candace changed gears.
“So, according to your earlier testimony, Jake has been your boyfriend for about seventeen months now, is that correct?”
Madison beamed. “Yes.”
“How many of his baseball games has he taken you to?”
“Well, I haven't been able to go to any of his games because we were keeping things secret, but I watch them on television.”
“And you and Jake have probably talked a lot about baseball over the past seventeen months together, right?”
“Yes.”
“Can tell me what ERA stands for?”
Madison looked alarmed and Pratt jumped to his feet to protect his witness, “Objection, Your Honor, irrelevant.”
“I'll allow it,” the judge ruled, looking interested in the response himself.
But Madison was shaking her head, “No, I don't know that one.”
“How about RBI?”
Madison's eyes widened. “No, I don't know that one either.”
“Okay, do you know what K stands for in baseball?”
Madison shook her head again. She was looking desperately at Jake. His demeanor remained calm, but Lauren could tell by the tension in his temporomandibular joint that he was clenching his teeth.
“I'm sorry, Miss Hart, but you need to speak your answers into the microphone. The court reporter can't capture you shaking your head. Was that a no?”
“No, I don't know that one. I don't know that much about baseball. All I know is I love to watch Jake play.”
“According to your testimony, Mr. Wakefield was your boyfriend in September of last year, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Madison said more confidently, clearly relieved to be off the hook from baseball terms.
“Something quite significant happened in Mr. Wakefield's baseball career that month. Surely you can tell the court what that was?”
But Madison shook her head again as her eyes filled with tears. Somehow, Lauren couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Just another hapless female victim of Jake's.
Looking satisfied, Candace asked no more questions.
Pratt did what he could to rehabilitate his witness.
“Miss Hart, tell us again why you didn't tell anybody about your relationship with Mr. Wakefield.”
“It was private and personal. We agreed to keep it a secret between the two of us. Jake said that way nobody could hurt our relationship.”
Pratt exaggerated his head nod as if her answer explained everything.
“Miss Hart, you didn't watch much baseball before you met Jake Wakefield, did you?”
“No. I never liked it before, but I love it now because I love Jake.”
“And does not knowing baseball terminology make you love Jake any less?”
“Oh no. Jake doesn't know McDonald's terminology either, but I still love him like crazy.” Several spectators chuckled.
Pratt turned over the witness. Candace approached Madison again.
“You still work at McDonald's, Miss Hart?” Candace asked.
“Yes.”
“Those are lovely shoes you're wearing. Are those Louboutins?”
Madison looked flattered. “Yes, these are my first pair. Jake bought them⦔ but Pratt was on his feet, objecting to the irrelevance of the question. The objection was sustained.
“Are you sure you didn't get anything in exchange for your testimony today?” Candace asked again.
Pratt objected, but was overruled. Madison appeared to be uneasy with this line of questioning.
“No, I'm testifying about the truth. About what really happened because I don't want Jake to be convicted of something I know he didn't do.”
“Who paid for your outfit and shoes today?”
“They're gifts from my boyfriend.”
“And did Jake also pay for your haircut and nails?”
“Yes.” She seemed proud of this fact, failing to recognize Candace's innuendo that Jake had been prepping her for her testimony today.
Candace dismissed the witness. Madison Hart shot Jake a loving smile as she departed the courtroom.
“The Defense rests,” Pratt finally said.
(Thursday afternoon, October 12)
Lauren was pleased to see that Ryan would be driving her home. Mindful of the television cameras capturing everything on film, they walked more than an arms-length apart from each other. Lauren stopped to address the reporters, opining that Madison Hart's eleventh hour testimony was suspiciously convenient.
As well as she knew Ryan by now, Lauren was surprised to find herself nervous to be alone with him. But they quickly lapsed into comfortable conversation as soon as they returned to the familiar environment of the car, the place they had spent so much time together.
Ryan shared the busy rush of his week as he had attempted to track down information to impeach Madison's claims. However, more than a year had passed and proving her story to be untrue now had been impossible. People's memories faded with time and nobody in Madison's life could remember anything that contradicted her version of events.
They giggled at the fact that she seemed to know nothing about baseball. “I wish Candace had asked her even more rudimentary questions about the game,” Lauren commented.
“It would have been hilarious if she didn't know how many innings are in a game or the meaning of full count,” Ryan agreed.
“She doesn't love the game, she loves the player,” Lauren said in a pretty good imitation of Madison's mousy voice.
“There's no way in hell that Jake wouldn't have rolled over on her immediately if she was with him that night. He had no trouble selling you out. Hell, I think he would throw his own mother under the bus if it would save his ass.”
“He wouldn't have to. Buffy would jump under a bus for him.”
Ryan nodded in agreement. Jake's parents were always on television complaining about how unfairly their precious son had been treated by the Scottsdale Police Department. They were practically comical in their unwavering support.
“Besides⦔ Ryan continued, “â¦what was he trying to protect Madison from at that point? Liz was already dead so they didn't need to worry about her finding out. Jake was willing to go to jail to prevent her parents from finding out about the relationship? I seriously doubt that.”
“Maybe he wanted to protect his precious public image. At least it's almost over.” Lauren said, realizing she had mixed feelings about the impending end of the trial.
“You can say that again,” Ryan agreed. “This thing has gone on long enough. I'm ready to get my life back.”
Although she understood his sentiment, Lauren could not help but feel hurt by his words.
(Friday, October 13)
“Friday the fucking thirteenth,” Candace muttered when Lauren and Ryan arrived at court the next morning.
Lauren was surprised to hear levelheaded Candace making reference to this. “Surely, you don't believe in superstitions?”
“Like hell I don't. One time, a black cat crossed in front of my car and I rear-ended the guy in front of me immediately afterwards.”
Probably because you were distracted by your unreasonable fear of black cats,
Lauren thought. But she didn't say that. Instead, she offered, “It's Friday the thirteenth for the Defense, too. Maybe today is going to bring bad luck to them instead of us.”
Candace delivered a flawlessly prepared summation. She reviewed the time line, the physical evidence, and the motive. She depicted Jake as a controlling husband who became infuriated at the prospect of his wife leaving him. He lost his temper and battered Liz to death. Attempting to defend herself, Liz scratched him in the process. Then the cover-up began. He had showered in his own shower, grabbed some of Liz's jewelry to make it look like a burglary, and dumped the bloody clothing and murder weapon somewhere on his hurried trip to the airport. Despite the Phoenix heat, he wore long-sleeved shirts to cover-up the scratch injuries. He pursued a relationship with Lauren to get information about the investigation and had given her the diamond ring in an effort to frame her for the crime. In the face of overwhelming evidence against Jake, the Defense had resorted to falsely accusing Lauren, discrediting the investigators, and calling an eleventh hour alibi witness telling a farfetched tale for the very first time.
The mood was celebratory in the war room over lunch. Nearly everybody in the office, including the County Attorney himself, came by to congratulate the Prosecution team on a job well done. There was an air of confidence in the building, but nobody explicitly predicted victory. Lauren imagined this was a superstition of another variety. Prosecutors won't predict a win for the same reason trauma doctors never comment on a quiet night in the ER.
After his disastrous first outing in the courtroom, Fisher had taken a marginal role on the Defense team, sitting day after day at the Defense table without uttering an additional word in open court. So Lauren was surprised to see him stand to deliver the Defense's closing statement. He looked striking with his silver hair and fit build.
Fisher delivered the Defense closing statement with style and gusto as if he was auditioning for an Oscar-worthy role. He blamed the Scottsdale Police for a rush to judgment, accusing them of focusing so closely on Jake Wakefield that they had overlooked evidence that pointed to Lauren's obvious guilt. He suggested Lauren had used her good looks and womanly ways to pull the wool over the eyes of the inept detectives, particularly Detective Boyd. Fisher argued that the evidence was both sparse and circumstantial, implicating Lauren more than Jake. He emphasized that Madison Hart's testimony was irrefutable proof that Jake could not have killed his wife, for she had been with him while Liz was still alive according to phone records. Fisher's summary was a bunch of baloney, but the delivery was eloquent. It was like baloney that had been diced into bits, covered with Hollandaise sauce, and wrapped in a delicate crepe. Disguised by its pretty packaging.
Because the Prosecution had the burden of proof, Candace had one last audience with the jury. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I know this has been a long, hard trial for you. I appreciate your sacrifices, but please make sure that we have used your time wisely. Once you have dismissed the theatrics of the Defense, you will be left with only cold, hard facts. And those facts will tell you what you have to do. You may find Jake Wakefield good-looking because he is. You may find him a good baseball player because he is. And you must find him guilty because he is.”
As the judge issued the jury instructions, Lauren sized up the jury. Their faces were blank slates, impossible to read.
“It's all over but the waiting,” Candace said as they exited the courtroom that evening. In accordance with trial superstition, there would be no celebration that night, not even to acknowledge their freedom from the time constraints of the trial. Any celebration would have to wait until the jury came back with a guilty verdict.
Lauren stopped to talk to the press and voiced her confidence that the jury would reach the appropriate decision to convict. Out of the corner of one eye, she could see Jake speaking to other reporters with equal confidence that the jury would be wise enough to acquit an innocent man. Lauren spoke louder as if drowning out Jake's words would rob them of their ability to come to fruition.
Ryan was quiet and contemplative on the car ride home. He engaged with Lauren briefly about the powerful closing statements, but refused to speculate about the possible outcome of the trial. Lauren wondered if police detectives submitted to the same trial superstitions that prosecutors did.
They rode most of the trip in silence. As they neared Lauren's apartment complex, Ryan finally spoke. “You know, I can't call you until the jury comes back with a verdict.”
“I know. Let's just hope they come back quickly.”
