Betty takes a deep breath, drawing in the strength to continue. “She lashed out, kicking and screaming and scratching two of them. This got them angry, and they attacked her. She screamed and fought, but they were too powerful for her, too far out of control.”
Betty is verbally staggering, having trouble keeping her own emotions in check. “Tell the rest,” I say very gently. “It's time for the truth to come out.”
She nods. “They gang-raped her, taking turns holding her down, paying no attention to her screams. Finally she broke away and ran, but in her panic she slipped and fell on the wet surface near the pool, smashing her head into a cement table. She was unconscious and bleeding, and they didn't know if she was alive or dead. Then one of them …”
“Go on, Betty …” I say.
“One of them … I don't know who, pushed her into the pool with his foot. She went under the water and stayed there.”
The jury and everyone else within the sound of Betty Anthony's voice is spellbound by her story. Even Hatchet seems mesmerized by her as she weaves the tale she has protected for so long.
I look in the gallery and see that Victor has left the courtroom; that's okay, he'll read all about it tomorrow. All that is left now is for me to wrap up Betty's testimony.
“Mrs. Anthony, did you ever have occasion to meet Denise McGregor, the woman whose murder has caused all of us to be here today?”
“Yes. She came to see me.”
“Why did she do that?”
“She told me that she was a reporter, doing a story about a murder that she believed was committed many years earlier. She told me that the victim was her mother.”
“Go on, please.”
“She knew quite a bit about it, about my husband's involvement, and about one other man who was part of the group.”
“Did she say who that was?”
“She did … Victor Markham. I already knew that.”
A rumble goes through the courtroom, which Hatchet quiets with his gavel.
“Thank you, Mrs. Anthony,” I say. “Your witness.”
Wallace dreads this cross-examination, but must go through with it. He gets Betty to admit that she has kept this information a secret all these years, implying that this means what she has to say is somehow suspect. He also brings out that she has no physical evidence of the crime, only the word of her late husband. He does a very professional job in a very difficult situation.
On redirect, I introduce my father's photograph as evidence. It tends to corroborate her testimony by placing the conspirators together with Julie's car. Clearly, though, it does not show any conclusive proof of their guilt.
When I go back to the defense table, Willie leans over to ask if we've already won. He thinks they're going to come over and cut his handcuffs off, and he can go home. I tell him we're a long way from that, and I arrange to meet at seven with Kevin and Laurie at my house.
THE GUEST HOUSEON PHILIP'S PROPERTY has been converted into a small hospital. Nicole has a hospital bed, modern medical machines, a full staff of nurses, and a doctor who does regular rounds. It is an amazing transformation.
Philip is out at a political dinner, a small blessing for which I am grateful. I had called ahead and asked Nicole if I could come over, and she didn't say that I shouldn't. It is not a visit that I am relishing, for obvious reasons, but one that I know I must make.
I tell one of her nurses who I am, and she informs Nicole, who comes right out. She is doing remarkably well, and is wrapped in bandages around her upper body, so as to help her broken collarbone heal. But she is up and around, albeit gingerly, and though she looks pale, it is hard to believe that it's only a few days since she was lying unconscious behind those rocks.
The tension between us is obvious. No sooner do we say hello to each other than I feel a need to change the subject. I look around the house. “I forgot how amazing this place is.”
She smiles. “My father wanted us to live here, remember? He built the house for me even before I was born.”
“Looking back, I can't remember how I had the courage to tell him we wouldn't.”
She laughs. “You made me tell him.”
“Even then I was a man among men.”
“You stand up to him better than most.”
I nod; that's probably true. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty well. I mean, I don't get shot that often, but I think I'm recovering rather quickly.”
“I'll never forgive myself for letting this happen to you,” I say.
She chooses not to respond to that, and changes the subject. “I saw what happened with Victor Markham on the news tonight. Does it mean you're going to win?”
“Not necessarily, but it certainly helps. Closing arguments are tomorrow.”
She nods. “Have you had your dinner? Would you like something to eat?”
I shake my head no. “Nicole, I'm not sure we finished what we needed to say.”
She tenses up. “Don't, Andy. I didn't need to say anything, and you said a lot more than I wanted to hear.”
“I'm sorry … it's not how I wanted it to end.”
She smiles a slight, ironic smile. “See? We do have something in common.”
I start to tell her again how sorry I am, but she can't listen anymore. She just shakes her head, turns, and goes back to her room. I let myself out of her house and I head back to mine.
Tara is waiting for me at home, tail wagging, to congratulate me on a good day in court. Laurie arrives and shares Tara's enthusiasm, which is tempered by the dose of realism which Kevin soon provides, and with which I concur.
The fact is that Willie Miller remains in a very precarious situation. Nothing has been proven against Victor Markham, and it is unfortunately not up to our jury to ponder or even consider his guilt or innocence. They are empaneled to judge only Willie, and the evidence against him remains overwhelming. Whatever might or might not have happened on that night all those years ago, it does not mean that Willie Miller is innocent of the Denise McGregor murder.
Laurie and I are going over my closing argument, which will follow Wallace's tomorrow. Our thrust will be two-pronged: We will contend that Willie was framed, and we will serve up Victor Markham as the person who framed him. I believe it is a winning strategy, but I've been wrong before.
Pete Stanton calls, asking if we can meet before court tomorrow. He's received a report regarding the Betty Anthony testimony, and he wants to begin an investigation of Victor Markham immediately. We agree to meet for a quick cup of coffee.
Kevin and Laurie leave by ten o'clock, a comparatively early night for this trial. I sleep well tonight; the only time I wake up is when Tara's tail hits me in the face. I reach out and scratch her stomach, and the next thing I know, it's morning.
Pete is pumped to go after Victor Markham, and the prospect of doing so has apparently caused him to at least temporarily forget how much he hates me for attacking him on the stand. During breakfast, I take him through the entire story of the photograph and the money in my father's estate, right up to the present moment. He feels he can build a case against Victor, but we both know it won't be in time to help Willie with the jury.
The press this morning has been filled with news of the trial; Victor Markham's potential downfall has changed it from a big story to a mega story. I'm being cautiously praised by the same pundits who've been calling me overmatched, but they still feel we have an uphill battle ahead of us.
The crowds outside the courthouse are much larger the next morning, and there are far more media present. When Wallace stands to deliver his closing argument before a packed gallery, the courtroom feels considerably more tense than it has at any time during the trial.