"Objection, hearsay," Casey said.
"Overruled."
"No," Sales scoffed.
"Did your daughter say why she was afraid of Professor Lipton?" Hopewood asked.
"She thought he-"
"Objection!"
"Overruled," Rawlins said tiredly. "The jury has the right to know what gave rise to the girl's state of mind."
"She told me the way he looked at her made her uncomfortable and that when she had gone to see him for something about the class that he asked her out and talked to her in a way that was inappropriate, that he alluded to sexual things…"
Hopewood paused and looked knowingly at the jury before saying, "Did you talk to your daughter on the day she was killed?"
"I did."
"And can you tell us about that conversation?"
"We were supposed to have dinner together that night. I was going to pick her up-"
"Objection, the witness is not responding to the question," Casey said.
"Overruled."
Sales continued, "She said she was going to study all day for her final in a criminal law class."
"Professor Lipton's class?"
"Objection, Your Honor," Casey cried. "The class she was studying for is totally irrelevant."
"Overruled."
"Yes, it was his class… She asked me"-Sales stopped choked on his words, then mastered his emotions and continued-"she asked me to take a look around the house before I came in."
"Objection!" Casey practically howled.
"Overruled."
"She said she felt like someone had been watching her through the windows sometimes and that the neighbor's dog had been barking the past few nights and that it never did that unless someone was around. She-"
"Objection."
"Overruled."
"She told me she'd feel safer if I looked around…"
Sales's face was contorted now in pain. His eyes welled with tears, but none spilled down his face. He kept his chin held high but avoided looking at the jury. Casey knew it was a good move by Hopewood to put him up there. But then, Hopewood probably didn't know what she had coming.
"But when I got there, the police were already there… and I saw her…" Sales dropped his face into his hands. His broad shoulders shook quietly.
"He killed her," Sales sobbed. "He killed her."
Casey quickly assessed the jury. She could see that they felt his pain. She knew better than to object now.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Sales," Hopewood said compassionately. "That's all."
"Do you wish to cross-examine the witness, Ms. Jordan?" Rawlins said with as much distaste as he could muster.
"I do," Casey said. She sat waiting patiently for the emotions in the room to ebb.
"Well, Ms. Jordan," Rawlins said. "We're waiting."
Casey slowly rose and approached the father. He glared back at her with unadulterated malice. She positioned herself between the jury and Sales so that they, too, could feel the full effect of his hateful stare.
"You're a violent man, aren't you, Mr. Sales?" she said abruptly.
"No, I'm not."
"But you have been arrested on assault charges, isn't that true?"
"Yes."
"And you've been arrested for disorderly conduct, isn't that right?"
"A long time ago, yes."
"Yes, and you attacked a police officer during that incident the same way you attacked an officer the day your daughter was killed, isn't that true?"
"I wouldn't say I attacked anyone the day Marcia was murdered. I don't really remember."
"But you've seen the police reports that say you struck an officer?"
"Yes," Sales said solemnly, nodding his large head.
"You've attacked a lot of people in your day, Mr. Sales."
"Objection," Hopewood cried. "Badgering the witness."
"Sustained."
"So you are violent, aren't you?"
"You say so."
"Yes, I do," Casey quipped. "And you have a history of mental illness as well, isn't that right, Mr. Sales?"
Sales stared at her hard before answering.
"When I got back from Vietnam I had some problems," he said.
"Mental problems?"
"You could say that."
"In fact, you suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, don't you, Mr. Sales?"
"That's what they called it. But that was a long time ago. I've been fine for a long time."
"Really?" Casey said skeptically. "You don't attribute your violent behavior to your mental condition?"
"No," he said, spitting the word at her.
"But PTSD is something that can recur at any time," Casey said. "In fact, that's one of the characteristics of the disorder, isn't it? In fact, don't people who suffer from PTSD often lapse into fits of inexplicable violence?"
"Objection," Hopewood said. "Mr. Sales is not qualified as an expert in that area."
"Sustained. You will limit the scope of your questions to those the witness is qualified to answer, Ms. Jordan."
Casey paid no outward attention to the judge. She simply stared right back at Sales without blinking, then abruptly switched tracks. "You didn't like for your daughter to have boyfriends, did you, Mr. Sales?"
"Objection," Hopewood said. "Marcia Sales's boyfriends are irrelevant. The presumption that Professor Lipton fit that description is just that, a presumption."
"I'm allowing it," Rawlins said.
"He wasn't her boyfriend, you…" Sales muttered a rancid word under his breath. Casey looked pointedly at Rawlins. The judge's pride in having total control of the courtroom superseded even his animosity toward her.
"You will answer the questions, Mr. Sales," he said firmly. "And I've already told you that I will not allow another outburst from you in my courtroom."
"You didn't want her to have boyfriends, did you?" Casey repeated.
"I didn't care," Sales muttered sullenly.
"Oh no?" Casey said, raising one eyebrow. "But you didn't like Professor Lipton, did you?"
"No."
"In fact, you hated him, didn't you?"
"Of course," Sales sneered.
"And isn't it true that you hated your daughter's last boyfriend as well?"
"No."
"No? I'm referring to Frank Castle. Isn't it true that you attacked Mr. Castle one night when you found him alone with your daughter in her apartment?"
"I didn't attack him. We got into it a little, but I didn't attack him," Sales said.
"Because isn't it true that you used to sneak around your daughter's apartment looking through her windows at night?"
"I never did that, not like that, no."
"No? But you're familiar with Mr. Castle's deposition to the contrary, aren't you?"
"I saw what he said," Sales said contemptuously. "He was mad when Marcia dumped him. You can't believe what he says. Maybe he was scared because I kept an eye on him."
"Yes, you did," Casey said triumphantly. "You kept an eye on him and he was afraid. And the same was true with your daughter, wasn't it? You kept an eye on her, too, and she was afraid, wasn't she?"
"No. She was not. She was never afraid of me."
Casey looked at him with disbelief, then said, "Isn't it true that on the night you attacked Mr. Castle at your daughter's apartment that you threatened her as well?"
"That's a lie!"
"You were mad, isn't that true?" Casey spoke swiftly now, increasing the pace of the examination, hurrying him along.
"Yes, I was mad."
"In fact, you were enraged because you didn't want her to have a boyfriend, isn't that right?"
"That's not true. It was him I didn't like. He was a little, lying, conniving smart-ass."
"Because he tried to take her away from you, isn't that true?"
"No. He, he was a bad kid, too smart for his own good."
"You don't like smart people do you, Mr. Sales? People like Frank Castle and Professor Lipton, they threaten you, isn't that right?"
"No. They don't threaten me."
"But you don't like them."
"Them, those two I don't like, no."
"So you found your daughter and Mr. Castle alone in her apartment at school," Casey said, pulling up short with her pace, getting him off balance before the final push. "There they were, on the couch. They were kissing and fondling each other, and you burst in on them uninvited. You were enraged at him, and you were enraged at her, too, weren't you, Mr. Sales?"