Ben looked deeply into Barrett’s eyes. He had hoped, although the odds were looking slimmer by the minute, that he would be able to prevent Barrett from being convicted. But even if he did, how could he prevent Barrett from being convicted in the court of public opinion? What could he ever do to prevent the world from thinking of him as … a bad man?
He knew the answer before he had finished asking himself the question.
Absolutely nothing.
Chapter 43
THE NEXT WITNESS WAS Harvey Sanders, who Ben knew from pretrial discovery and Christina’s briefing notes lived in the house next door to the Barrett family. Ben could only surmise what the nature of his testimony might be. Living in such close conjunction to this house of turmoil, he might be able to say anything—all of it bad.
“What do you do for a living, Mr. Sanders?” Bullock asked.
Sanders was a slim, reasonably handsome man who looked like he was somewhere in his thirties or early forties. He was wearing a collarless shirt with a scarf draped artfully around his neck. “I’m an actor. And I’m also an assistant curator at the Gilcrease Museum. Have been for eight years.”
“You’re an actor?”
“Right. Between jobs at the moment. That’s why I’m working at the Gilcrease.”
“I see. An odd combination.”
“I haven’t quite gotten my big break yet, you know? Once that comes, I’ll drop the day job and devote myself to my art. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Of course. Where do you live, sir?”
“Sixteen twenty-two Terwilliger.”
“Do you know the defendant?”
“Of course I do. He’s my next-door neighbor.”
“And how long have you lived next door to the defendant and his family?”
“Gosh, let me think. More than three years now.”
“So you must have known his two children. And his wife.”
“Caroline. Yes, I knew Caroline. And the children.”
Ben listened carefully to Sanders’ words. There was something about the way he said Caroline …
“Were the Barretts good neighbors?”
Sanders grinned. He did have a rather charismatic air about him, Ben thought. Maybe he could be a successful actor at that. “Well, they kept the lawn mowed, if that’s what you mean.”
Bullock tried it a different way. “Did you have much opportunity to see the family interact? To see Mr. and Mrs. Barrett together?”
“Oh, yes. Scads. I saw them practically every day. And I frequently went over to their house.”
“Why?”
“Well, sometimes I’d help with some little household chore. Faulty plumbing or what have you. Wally—excuse me, the defendant—was so busy, you know, sometimes he didn’t have the opportunity to keep up with these things. And sometimes I’d go over to show off a new museum acquisition, some piece of pottery or something. Caroline was a great admirer of antiquities.”
There it was again. Caroline. Ben made a few notes on the cross-ex side of his legal pad.
“Based on what you saw and heard,” Bullock carefully asked, “would you say the Barretts had a happy marriage?”
“Objection,” Ben said. “He’s asking the witness to form an opinion.”
Judge Hart drummed her fingers thoughtfully. “I’ll allow it in this instance. So long as the witness bases his testimony on what he has personally observed, I think it’s permissible.”
Sanders didn’t wait for the question to be reasked. “They had their pleasant moments, like anyone else, but no, I wouldn’t call it a happy marriage. In fact, I’d call it a decidedly unhappy marriage.”
“Upon what do you base that opinion?”
Sanders shifted to face the jury. He seemed perfectly relaxed and at ease, more like a man chatting with his friends than a man testifying in court. “Well, a lot of things. They fought constantly. Loud fights, like cats and dogs. I mean, I lived in the house next door, for Pete’s sake, and I could usually follow the combat like I had a ringside seat.”
“What kind of things did they say?”
“Mean things. I mean, really awful. Things I wouldn’t want to repeat in court. Particularly Wa—er, the defendant. He has a real vicious streak in him when he loses his temper. Really perverse. You wouldn’t believe some of the things he called Caroline. And this was his wife. The mother of his children.” He shook his head. “Caroline deserved a lot better than that.”
“Mr. Sanders, let me direct your attention to March 11. Were you at home that day?”
“I got home around four o’clock, like usual.”
“Did you see or hear any member of the Barrett family after you arrived at your home?”
“I didn’t see them, at least not at first, but man-oh-man did I hear them.” There was a spattering of smiles and chuckles from the gallery. Sanders’s exuberance and amiability were charming the masses.
“They were fighting?”
“Oh yeah. Like nobody’s business. I don’t know what started it. Usually it wouldn’t take much, and these things would just get blown all out of proportion.”
“Whose voices did you hear?”
“Mostly the defendant’s. He has that deep, booming voice, you know. It really carries.”
“Do you remember what he said?”
“I don’t remember all of it. But I remember the highlights. I remember he called her a stupid cow. I remember he called her—excuse me, Judge—a fucking whore. And”—his eyes dropped, and his voice took on a note of sorrow—“and I remember he said she didn’t deserve to live.”
The reaction from the reporters and spectators in the gallery was immediate. Pages and pencils flew; many people whispered at once.
“Did you hear anyone else?”
“Yes. The two girls. That was the worst of it. Not only was this horrendous fight going on, but those poor little sweethearts were getting every word of it. I could hear them screaming and crying. It just broke my heart.”
“What else happened?” Bullock asked.
“Well, frankly, it got to the point where I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I closed my window and turned on the television. Watched Little House on the Prairie. I know it’s corny, but I really like that show. May sound stupid to you, but after hearing all that hatred, I needed a dose of innocent family drama.”
“Doesn’t sound stupid to me at all,” Bullock commented. “Did you hear anything further from your neighbors?”
“Amazingly enough, yes. About halfway through the show, I heard a tremendous crashing noise from next door. I still don’t know what that was, but man alive, it was loud! I mean, I was next door, for cryin’ out loud. I had the windows shut and the television on. And I still heard it.”
“Did you take any action?”
“Yes. I went to my kitchen and reopened the window. That’s the room closest to the Barretts’ house. I heard one of those girls crying out.”
“Did you hear what she said?”
“Yeah. Clear as a bell. She cried out, ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ ”
Ben knew how devastating this was going to be. Sanders was confirming Karen Gleason’s testimony about what she heard on the phone. And if that part was true, the jury would reason, everything else she said must’ve been true as well.
“What did you do next?” Bullock asked.
“Well, I closed the window again and went back to my television show. I know that may seem strange in retrospect, but you have to realize—this sort of thing happened all the time. What was I supposed to do? March over there and tell the defendant to straighten up? Of course, if I had known what was going to happen, I would’ve called the police, but at that time, who knew? Who could have dreamed?”