Read Online Antonelli - 03 - The Judgment by D. W. Buffa - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: D. W. Buffa
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years right under your nose, and you knew nothing about it?’
“His manner was cold, caustic, and he threw questions at her so fast that she had barely started to answer one before he was shouting the next. Each time he did it, I objected, and each time I objected, Jeffries overruled it. We went back and forth, like pup-pets in a Punch and Judy show. ‘Objection.’ ‘Overruled.’ ‘Objection.’ ‘Overruled.’ Finally, I bounced up one last time and instead of objecting, said, ‘Perhaps your honor would like to lend Mr.
Goldman your gavel so he can save us the trouble of a trial and just beat a confession out of her?’
“You have never seen such a wrathful look. ‘Do you want to be held in contempt a second time?’
” ‘At least that would be a ruling we could both agree on, your honor,’ I replied with studied indifference.
“There was really nothing he could do. No matter what he said, he was not going to hold me in contempt and have me dragged out of the courtroom. We were too far along in the trial, and besides that, there were too many people watching. Jeffries abused his power too often not to understand that it was best done in private. His only reply, at least for the moment, was a withering glance just before he turned his attention back to the prosecution. ‘Please continue, Mr. Goldman.’
“I continued to object, not because I thought there was any chance that any of them would be sustained, but simply to give Janet Larkin time to collect herself. Goldman never could break her down. She answered every question and she told the truth.
That was all she had left. Her husband had taken everything else.
He had taken her daughter, and he had taken her son, and not just taken them, but in different ways stolen their innocence and destroyed them.
“Afraid of making a mistake, aware that hundreds of eyes were watching her, she formed each word of each answer with the deliberate care of a mother teaching a child the first letters of the alphabet. Goldman, always ready with the next question, could barely contain himself. When he tried to hurry her along, she ignored him; when he tried to interrupt, she went right on talking as if she had forgotten he was there. He kept after her, asking the same thing over and over again, trying to get her to admit what he knew she had done, or to change her testimony so he could use the inconsistency against her. He hurled questions at her with incredible ferocity. He would have stoned her to death if he had been able. It had no effect. She sat there like a glass-eyed automaton, going back to the beginning of the answer to repeat it all over again. Frustrated beyond measure, Goldman finally gave up.
” ‘You can deny it from now until kingdom come, Mrs. Larkin, but we both know you raped your son!’
“With the sound of that accusation ringing in the air, Goldman shot one more glance at the accused and then turned away.
” ‘The defense calls Amy Larkin,’ I announced before Goldman had reached his chair. Until the last minute, I did not know if Janet Larkin’s daughter would show up. She had said she might not. She knew how important it was to her mother’s defense—I had left her in no doubt on that score—but she had let me know it was her decision to make and that she was not going to be forced into anything. I had her served with a subpoena and it did not make any difference. If she decided she was not going to testify, there was nothing anyone could do about it. She was willful, but she was not defiant. She did not question the authority that could drag her in front of a judge and put her in jail for contempt. It was not that at all. She just was not going to do anything she did not want to do. Not anymore.
“I have not seen her since her mother’s trial, and I never tried to find out what happened to her after it was over. Perhaps I did not want to know. Perhaps I preferred the comfort of an illusion, the vague hope that somehow
“His manner was cold, caustic, and he threw questions at her so fast that she had barely started to answer one before he was shouting the next. Each time he did it, I objected, and each time I objected, Jeffries overruled it. We went back and forth, like pup-pets in a Punch and Judy show. ‘Objection.’ ‘Overruled.’ ‘Objection.’ ‘Overruled.’ Finally, I bounced up one last time and instead of objecting, said, ‘Perhaps your honor would like to lend Mr.
Goldman your gavel so he can save us the trouble of a trial and just beat a confession out of her?’
“You have never seen such a wrathful look. ‘Do you want to be held in contempt a second time?’
” ‘At least that would be a ruling we could both agree on, your honor,’ I replied with studied indifference.
“There was really nothing he could do. No matter what he said, he was not going to hold me in contempt and have me dragged out of the courtroom. We were too far along in the trial, and besides that, there were too many people watching. Jeffries abused his power too often not to understand that it was best done in private. His only reply, at least for the moment, was a withering glance just before he turned his attention back to the prosecution. ‘Please continue, Mr. Goldman.’
“I continued to object, not because I thought there was any chance that any of them would be sustained, but simply to give Janet Larkin time to collect herself. Goldman never could break her down. She answered every question and she told the truth.
That was all she had left. Her husband had taken everything else.
He had taken her daughter, and he had taken her son, and not just taken them, but in different ways stolen their innocence and destroyed them.
“Afraid of making a mistake, aware that hundreds of eyes were watching her, she formed each word of each answer with the deliberate care of a mother teaching a child the first letters of the alphabet. Goldman, always ready with the next question, could barely contain himself. When he tried to hurry her along, she ignored him; when he tried to interrupt, she went right on talking as if she had forgotten he was there. He kept after her, asking the same thing over and over again, trying to get her to admit what he knew she had done, or to change her testimony so he could use the inconsistency against her. He hurled questions at her with incredible ferocity. He would have stoned her to death if he had been able. It had no effect. She sat there like a glass-eyed automaton, going back to the beginning of the answer to repeat it all over again. Frustrated beyond measure, Goldman finally gave up.
” ‘You can deny it from now until kingdom come, Mrs. Larkin, but we both know you raped your son!’
“With the sound of that accusation ringing in the air, Goldman shot one more glance at the accused and then turned away.
” ‘The defense calls Amy Larkin,’ I announced before Goldman had reached his chair. Until the last minute, I did not know if Janet Larkin’s daughter would show up. She had said she might not. She knew how important it was to her mother’s defense—I had left her in no doubt on that score—but she had let me know it was her decision to make and that she was not going to be forced into anything. I had her served with a subpoena and it did not make any difference. If she decided she was not going to testify, there was nothing anyone could do about it. She was willful, but she was not defiant. She did not question the authority that could drag her in front of a judge and put her in jail for contempt. It was not that at all. She just was not going to do anything she did not want to do. Not anymore.
“I have not seen her since her mother’s trial, and I never tried to find out what happened to her after it was over. Perhaps I did not want to know. Perhaps I preferred the comfort of an illusion, the vague hope that somehow
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