any sarcasm or snark. Instead, she replied, “It’s part of my job. Advocating for victims.”
Voorsanger nodded, turned to his notes, but then swiveled back abruptly as if caught by her final word. “But have we established that Ms. Nelson was a victim of a crime? Much less one committed by my client?”
Manny looked up. “Objection.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “The jury will disregard defense counsel’s editorial opinions.”
Voorsanger ignored the interruption and focused on Rossi. “Dr. Rossi, to the best of your knowledge, will Ms. Nelson be making an appearance here today to give us her account of what happened seven months ago?”
Ryder sat up straight. Asshole. Voorsanger made it sound like Tymara was too busy shopping for shoes to testify. From the stricken look that crossed Rossi’s face as she glanced at Manny for guidance, he guessed the judge had ruled that no mention of the reason why Tymara wouldn’t be testifying could be given. Prejudicial or some such legal bullshit.
Rossi looked up, and he locked his gaze with hers, certain she was reliving the horror of finding Tymara’s body that morning. She swallowed hard, gave him a small nod, her features easing back into a mask of professionalism. Then she leaned forward to adjust her own microphone, eyeing each of the jurors in turn. “To my knowledge, Ms. Nelson is unable to testify, leaving it to me to report on the facts of her trauma.”
“The medical facts?”
“Yes.”
“And do your medical facts provide any physical evidence that the sexual intimacy between my client and Ms. Nelson was nonconsensual?”
“In the vast majority of sexual assaults, there is no physical evidence.”
“Did your detailed medical examination reveal any evidence that my client assaulted Ms. Nelson?”
Rossi didn’t hesitate, her voice remaining calm, confident. “Yes. My medical history indicated that Mr. Littleton sexually assaulted Tymara Nelson.”
Ryder glanced at the jury. This would be the stumbling point of the case against Littleton. They had plenty of evidence showing that Littleton and Tymara had sex, but nothing except Tymara’s disclosures to Rossi during her rape exam to prove it was nonconsensual. The jury was definitely paying attention, but without Tymara to tell her own story, would they buy it?
Chapter 9
“HISTORY TAKEN FROM Ms. Nelson?” Jacob asked me.
“Yes.”
“So basically we’re talking about she said/he said. A difference of opinion.” Jacob turned to the jury, his skepticism over my painstakingly recorded medical history palpable. Despite my anger at his trivialization of Tymara’s assault, I marveled at the way he’d captured the jury so quickly. I’d forgotten how good an actor he was, the power of his voice, his body language. “Let’s go through things from the start. See exactly how your medical history somehow proves my client assaulted Ms. Nelson in any way.”
Clearing my throat, I began in a professional cadence “On May twenty-first, Tymara Nelson had a knock on her apartment door. It was the defendant, there to spray for bugs.” Littleton was an exterminator whose company held the contract for the Kingston Tower.
“Ms. Nelson invited him in?” Jacob interrupted, deliberately breaking my rhythm.
“Yes. She—”
“Yes. Ms. Nelson invited him inside her apartment.”
I kept my face composed, refusing to show any emotion at his cheap and all-too-common tactic. I had expected more of him.
Focus, I told myself. Tymara’s last chance at justice is riding on you . Although, sitting there, buffeted by lawyers and their rules, I wondered why I’d been so adamant with Devon that courtroom justice was better than his street justice.
I glanced at Littleton, a totally unremarkable man if you believed his mask of normalcy. Wondered what it would take to make him feel the same terror and anguish that Tymara had at his hands and the hands of his partners. Wouldn’t that be
Voorsanger nodded, turned to his notes, but then swiveled back abruptly as if caught by her final word. “But have we established that Ms. Nelson was a victim of a crime? Much less one committed by my client?”
Manny looked up. “Objection.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “The jury will disregard defense counsel’s editorial opinions.”
Voorsanger ignored the interruption and focused on Rossi. “Dr. Rossi, to the best of your knowledge, will Ms. Nelson be making an appearance here today to give us her account of what happened seven months ago?”
Ryder sat up straight. Asshole. Voorsanger made it sound like Tymara was too busy shopping for shoes to testify. From the stricken look that crossed Rossi’s face as she glanced at Manny for guidance, he guessed the judge had ruled that no mention of the reason why Tymara wouldn’t be testifying could be given. Prejudicial or some such legal bullshit.
Rossi looked up, and he locked his gaze with hers, certain she was reliving the horror of finding Tymara’s body that morning. She swallowed hard, gave him a small nod, her features easing back into a mask of professionalism. Then she leaned forward to adjust her own microphone, eyeing each of the jurors in turn. “To my knowledge, Ms. Nelson is unable to testify, leaving it to me to report on the facts of her trauma.”
“The medical facts?”
“Yes.”
“And do your medical facts provide any physical evidence that the sexual intimacy between my client and Ms. Nelson was nonconsensual?”
“In the vast majority of sexual assaults, there is no physical evidence.”
“Did your detailed medical examination reveal any evidence that my client assaulted Ms. Nelson?”
Rossi didn’t hesitate, her voice remaining calm, confident. “Yes. My medical history indicated that Mr. Littleton sexually assaulted Tymara Nelson.”
Ryder glanced at the jury. This would be the stumbling point of the case against Littleton. They had plenty of evidence showing that Littleton and Tymara had sex, but nothing except Tymara’s disclosures to Rossi during her rape exam to prove it was nonconsensual. The jury was definitely paying attention, but without Tymara to tell her own story, would they buy it?
Chapter 9
“HISTORY TAKEN FROM Ms. Nelson?” Jacob asked me.
“Yes.”
“So basically we’re talking about she said/he said. A difference of opinion.” Jacob turned to the jury, his skepticism over my painstakingly recorded medical history palpable. Despite my anger at his trivialization of Tymara’s assault, I marveled at the way he’d captured the jury so quickly. I’d forgotten how good an actor he was, the power of his voice, his body language. “Let’s go through things from the start. See exactly how your medical history somehow proves my client assaulted Ms. Nelson in any way.”
Clearing my throat, I began in a professional cadence “On May twenty-first, Tymara Nelson had a knock on her apartment door. It was the defendant, there to spray for bugs.” Littleton was an exterminator whose company held the contract for the Kingston Tower.
“Ms. Nelson invited him in?” Jacob interrupted, deliberately breaking my rhythm.
“Yes. She—”
“Yes. Ms. Nelson invited him inside her apartment.”
I kept my face composed, refusing to show any emotion at his cheap and all-too-common tactic. I had expected more of him.
Focus, I told myself. Tymara’s last chance at justice is riding on you . Although, sitting there, buffeted by lawyers and their rules, I wondered why I’d been so adamant with Devon that courtroom justice was better than his street justice.
I glanced at Littleton, a totally unremarkable man if you believed his mask of normalcy. Wondered what it would take to make him feel the same terror and anguish that Tymara had at his hands and the hands of his partners. Wouldn’t that be
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