Saving Max (26 page)

Sevillas starts to his feet, but Hempstead is way ahead of him. “Mr. Langley, given that the defendant has clearly violated the terms of her bond, I hardly think that is still at issue here.”

“I have another reason for asking the question, Your Honor.”

Hempstead looks at Marianne and then at the lawyers. “Mr. Langley, this is where I draw the line. If the witness is planning to testify to facts about the alleged murder which are not in evidence in order to provide an opinion on bail—which Mr. Sevillas has correctly pointed out is not her decision to make—I can’t see how any opinion she would give is relevant.”

“Your Honor, this testimony has nothing to do with that. It relates to an event personally experienced by the witness which bears directly upon the proof-evident portion of this hearing.”

The judge gives him a skeptical look. “All right, I’ll let you begin, but the minute you try to slip anything under the door, I’ll cut you off so fast it’ll make your head spin. Understood?”

Sevillas shakes his head and sits down.
Is there anything she won’t let in?

Langley takes a deep breath and turns to Marianne. “Now, Ms. Morrison, can you explain to the judge what you told me for the first time this morning?”

Marianne has been glued to this exchange like a tennis fan at the U.S. Open. “Yes, I certainly can. I hate to bring this up, Your Honor, but other than what has befallen my son—which is the tragedy of my life—Ms. Parkman has also said and done things to me that make me certain she is a dangerous and violent person.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Sevillas bellows. “This is rank
speculation, not fact. This line of questioning should be terminated immediately. It’s nothing but a gratuitous attempt to let the mother of the deceased get in another jab—”

“Mr. Sevillas!” Hempstead’s voice is harsh. “I hardly think it appropriate to characterize Ms. Morrison’s testimony as ‘getting jabs in.’ Don’t forget that she has recently lost her son in a most heinous fashion.”

“I know, Judge, but—”

“No buts.” She turns to Marianne and speaks in a kindly voice. “Ms. Morrison, I’d like to ask you about the underlying facts you are referring to, not the opinion you formed from them. Perhaps you can explain it to me, as the State seems incapable of clarifying that for you.”

“Well,” she says. “One day, right before the murder, Danielle and I were having dinner. She drank far too much vodka, so I offered to drive her home. When we got back to the hotel, she got out of the car and stumbled. She seemed disoriented and then, for no reason, she flew into a rage and started accusing me of lying about Max. She even had her arm raised to hit me—”

“Your Honor!” Sevillas can’t take any more. Furious, he strides to the bench. His voice is cold, measured. “This witness is lying!”

“Mr. Sevillas, stop immediately!” Hempstead cracks her gavel and gives him a livid glare. “There will be no testifying by counsel in my courtroom! You wait until cross—or until that elusive day when you can produce your other client—or I’ll hold you in contempt right now.”

Sevillas is beyond caring. The case is in the ditch. He turns to Marianne, his voice ice shards. “I will, Your Honor, but it is unconscionable that this woman would so blatantly lie and turn on a woman who did nothing but show her the kindness of a friend—”

Marianne’s eyes blaze. “I never lie.” She turns to the judge and bursts into tears. “Her son killed my baby, Your Honor. Murdered him right in his own hospital bed. It’s too late for Jonas, but I know now—without a shadow of a doubt—that Max didn’t fall far from his mother’s tree.” She casts a beseeching look at the onlookers. “Oh, dear Lord, won’t someone help me?”

The judge’s face is contorted with wrath. She points her gavel at Sevillas. “You are now officially in contempt of this court. I will decide what happens to you after the hearing.”

Sevillas says nothing. He takes his seat and glares at Marianne.

“Now.” Hempstead puts her gavel down. “I am going to take over the questioning. Mrs. Morrison, I’d like you to tell me if Max Parkman ever threatened you with bodily harm.”

Marianne looks directly at the reporters in the front row. She turns back to the judge, her eyes a midnight blue. “One day, a week before the murder, I was on the sofa knitting a sweater for Jonas, and Max suddenly pulled something that glinted like metal from his pocket.”

The onlookers gasp and gape at Max. Tony clasps Max’s wrist until he sees his fist unclench. The judge nods soberly. “And then?”

Marianne’s eyes are as wide as plates. “Then he brandished it over my head.”

The judge tries to hide her shock. “Were you alone with Mr. Parkman when this happened?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Marianne shakes her head. “By the time I recovered from my shock, Max had run to a different part of the unit.”

“Surely you reported this.”

“Of course I did,” she says. “But apparently the video
monitors were malfunctioning that day, and I had no real evidence to offer the staff. It was his word against mine.”

Hempstead’s eyes cloud. “Surely they believed you over a psychiatric patient?”

She shrugs sadly. “They searched throughout the unit, including Max’s room and his clothing. The item was nowhere to be found.”

“Did you tell his mother?”

“Of course I did.” Her white hand touches her forehead as if to quell a throbbing headache. “She said that I must have been mistaken.”

“Did you ask the staff to take additional precautions after this incident?”

“Yes, Your Honor, I did, but I don’t think they took me seriously.”

Hempstead nods and writes something slowly on her legal pad. She looks up at Marianne. “And after that?”

“After that,” Marianne says simply, “Max wasn’t violent with Jonas.” She gives the press another pained glance. “Until he murdered my son, that is.”

Langley jumps up before Sevillas can object. “Pass the witness.”

Judge Hempstead turns to Sevillas. “Do you wish to cross-examine?”

Sevillas takes a last backward glance at the courtroom door. Max’s terrified eyes meet his. There’s no doubt now. Sevillas is on his own. “I certainly do, Your Honor.”

She looks at her watch. “I have four forty-seven. As it appears that this is taking much longer than anticipated, let me clarify the state of events for the record.” She turns to Langley. “The State has completed calling witnesses for today, correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Proceed, Mr. Sevillas.”

Sevillas approaches the witness. As he opens his mouth to ask his first question, there is a commotion behind him. All eyes turn as Danielle, dressed in an elegant suit, walks down the aisle. Doaks and Lieutenant Barnes—Doaks’s former partner on the force—follow in her wake. Max jumps up from the defense table and runs the few short steps to her. Danielle embraces him tightly. The joy in his face is electric, his eyes liquid with relief. “I’m here, honey,” she whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” Max doesn’t bother to wipe the tears from his face as he sits down. Danielle bends for a brief kiss on Georgia’s cheek and meets Sevillas’s eyes. He looks angry but relieved. She walks toward the bench, but before
she makes it to the bar, Judge Hempstead cracks her gavel. “Silence!” She regards Danielle and her entourage with ire. “And who might we have here?”

“Your Honor, I am Danielle Parkman.” She glances at Sevillas. His expression is somewhere between fury and relief.

Hempstead’s mouth is a razor slice. “Well, well, the phantom defendant. Approach, Ms. Parkman.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Bailiff,” Hempstead says curtly, “place Ms. Parkman in custody.”

“Judge,” protests Danielle, “please let me explain…”

Hempstead points the gavel at her. “I will do no such thing, Ms. Parkman. You are a criminal defendant in my court who has committed a felony by violating every condition of bond. You are hereby remitted to the county jail.” She turns to the bailiff. “Cuff her.”

Danielle catches Marianne’s satisfied look as the bailiff approaches, handcuffs in hand. “Your Honor, I understand your perfectly justifiable response to my actions, but I must move that I be permitted to cross-examine this witness. I have crucial evidence that goes directly to—”

Hempstead leans over her bench as the bailiff snaps the handcuffs on Danielle’s wrists. “I don’t care if you have evidence that the world is flat, Ms. Parkman. You are hereby remanded to be incarcerated until your trial. As an attorney and an officer of this court, you had full knowledge that your actions would lead to immediate revocation of your bond. What you do not appear to comprehend is that you, in addition to your son, are now also an accused felon who has flouted the laws of this state and the express orders of this Court.” There is steel in her voice. “You are not in New York, Ms. Parkman. You are in
my
courtroom under
my
jurisdiction.”

Sevillas casts her a look that says he is powerless. Max stares at her, petrified. The bailiff puts his hand on her shoulder. Danielle pulls back. “Judge, I move that I be allowed to appear before this court in my own defense.”

Hempstead gives her a poisonous look. “You are already represented by counsel.” She points at Sevillas. “Any questions posed on your behalf will be through your designated attorney.”

The bailiff grasps her arm. Danielle takes another step toward the bench, her voice firm. “Your Honor, I believe my counsel has a motion to make.”

Sevillas glances up in alarm. Danielle meets his eyes. After a moment he shakes his head.

“Apparently your counsel disagrees, Ms. Parkman.” She nods at the bailiff.

Danielle draws herself up. “Mr. Sevillas makes a motion to withdraw as my counsel, Your Honor.”

Hempstead looks at Sevillas with surprise. “Is that so, Mr. Sevillas?”

Sevillas stares bullets at Doaks, who nods vigorously from the front row. He locks eyes with Danielle. There it is—they click. Sevillas turns to Hempstead. “Your Honor, I respectfully move to withdraw as counsel for Ms. Parkman.”

A nanosecond elapses. “Motion denied.”

Sevillas and Danielle exchange a quick look before he turns back to the judge. “With all due respect, Your Honor, I’m afraid I must withdraw in any event.”

Hempstead’s eyes blaze. “Must I remind you that you are already in contempt of this court?”

“No, Your Honor.”

She turns to Danielle, her lips tight with fury. “I cannot force you to retain counsel, Ms. Parkman, but get one thing straight. The remainder of this hearing will be conducted in
strict accordance with the law and the rules. The minute you cross the line, I’m going to shut this thing down. And don’t bother attempting to convince me you are worthy of bond. When the hearing is concluded, you go straight to jail. Your bond is hereby revoked.”

She turns to the bailiff. “Remove the handcuffs from Ms. Parkman.” The bailiff quickly inserts his key. Danielle rubs her wrists. “Now, place them on Mr. Sevillas and take him to the holding cell.”

“Your Honor—” says Danielle.

“Prepare to cross-examine the witness, Ms. Parkman.”

Danielle watches helplessly as Sevillas holds up his wrists to be shackled and is led away. As she turns to the defense table, she catches another glimpse of Max. The fear in his eyes as Sevillas is marched away is not something she can do anything about—not yet.

“Ms. Parkman.” Hempstead’s voice is crisp, cold. “Proceed.”

Danielle turns and motions to Doaks, who struggles to the defense table with a large file box. Danielle removes the lid, extracts a sheaf of papers, takes a deep breath, and turns to the witness. “Ms. Morrison, I have a few background questions for you.”

Marianne eyes her confidently, her voice cool. “Of course, Ms. Parkman.”

“Where were you born?”

“In Pennsylvania.”

“Not Texas?”

“No.” Her eyes are clear.

“Where were you raised?”

She sighs. “My father was in the military. I was raised all over the United States.”

“Have you ever lived in Vermont?”

“No.”

“Florida?”

“No.”

“Illinois?”

The slightest beat of hesitation. “No.”

“Thank you.” Danielle flips through the documents. “Now, Ms. Morrison, how many times did you say you were married?”

She folds her hands primly. “Once.”

“To whom?”

“Raymond Morrison.”

“Never married before?”

“No.”

“Ever have other children?”

Her gaze is clear. “No.”

Danielle walks slowly to the witness box. “No other children, is that right?”

“Your Honor,” Langley whines. “Asked and answered. I do think Ms. Morrison would remember if she had any other children.” A titter ripples through the courtroom.

“I’ll be happy to move on, Judge,” she says. “Ms. Morrison, have you ever experienced any chronic physical conditions?”

Marianne fixes the judge with a pained look. “I’ve suffered from a variety of illnesses in my life. I haven’t spoken about it here because I think it’s inappropriate.”

“Perhaps you could give us a brief summary?” asks Danielle.

Marianne colors. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Have you been hospitalized for these conditions?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How many times?”

“Too many to count.”

“Would you say sixty-eight is an accurate number?”

A gasp comes from the crowd. Before Langley can intervene, Marianne laughs. “That is ridiculous.”

“Do you have evidence of this assertion, Ms. Parkman?” asks Hempstead.

“I’m getting there, Your Honor.”

“Not that I can see.”

Danielle walks to the defense table. Doaks has taken Sevillas’s chair and hands her a notepad he has pulled from his battered briefcase. “Have you ever been diagnosed as having any psychological problems?”

“Your Honor,” says Langley. “The mental condition of this poor woman is completely irrelevant to the murder charges brought against the defendant. We strongly object to any attempt on the part of the defense to impugn this woman’s character.”

The judge gives Danielle a disapproving look. “Ms. Parkman, I intend to give you the same latitude I have afforded the State all day—which you obviously were not here to observe—but I agree that the physical and mental condition of the witness is irrelevant to the charges leveled against your son—and you.” She points her gavel at Langley. “The State has a running objection to all questions posed by Ms. Parkman. I will ensure that her questions are appropriate. Save us time, Mr. Langley, and keep your seat.”

Danielle’s voice is calm. “Judge, as I am certain that both my mental state and that of my son have been put into question on direct, I believe it only fair that this witness, the mother of a disturbed child, be subjected to the same line of inquiry.”

Hempstead frowns. “It’s your time, Ms. Parkman, but if you choose to waste it, I will shut you down. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Langley makes a big show of turning to the reporters
and shaking his head. They scribble on their pads. Danielle turns back to Marianne. “Could you answer the question, please?”

“I have never had any psychological problems.”

“Have you ever been told that you suffer from a psychological condition?”

“Absolutely not,” she replies haughtily. “I bear my troubles privately and rely upon the grace of the good Lord to get me through.” She gives the judge an offended look and fingers the cross that hangs from her neck in a pointed fashion.

“Ms. Morrison, when was Jonas first diagnosed with any kind of problem?”

“If I am totally honest, I have to admit that I knew something was wrong with Jonas long before any of the doctors did.” She turns to the judge. “A mother knows these things. He had apnea problems as an infant. He would just stop breathing, for no reason at all.”

“How was this treated?”

“Well.” She leans forward, as if warming to the subject. “It was absolutely the most terrifying thing for a new mother. I had to watch him day and night. When he stopped breathing, he turned this hideous shade of blue. I would have to call an ambulance or rush him to the emergency room.” Tears fill her eyes. She takes another tissue from the box the judge has provided and gently dabs her eyes.

“What did they do for him?” asks Danielle.

Marianne looks up with a pained expression. “They ‘bagged’ him—forced oxygen into his lungs so he could breathe properly.”

“How often did this happen?”

Marianne twists the tissue around her fingers. “I don’t think more than two weeks went by without my having to rush that poor baby to the hospital. Then they gave me an
apnea machine. It set off an alarm when the baby stopped breathing. It was horrible.”

“Did anyone at the hospital ever tell you that they suspected Jonas did not have apnea at all?”

Marianne gives her a confused look. “I don’t understand the question.”

Danielle takes a step closer. “Did any of the doctors tell you that they suspected you were smothering Jonas?”

Langley jumps to his feet with a roar. “Your Honor! This is outrageous!”

“Save yourself the trouble, Mr. Langley.” Hempstead points an angry finger at Danielle. “You will stop this line of questioning immediately, Counselor. You have laid absolutely no foundation of any abuse on the part of this witness. Maybe this is how they conduct cross-examinations in New York, but I will not have it.”

Danielle shrugs. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Move on.”

Danielle shifts her unperturbed gaze to Marianne. “Who told you that Jonas was autistic or mentally retarded for the first time?”

Marianne’s look is full of hate. “I will never forget that day as long as I live. Jonas was four, and we were living in Pittsburgh. A specialist was traveling through.” She turns to the judge. “I wasn’t terribly satisfied with the care Jonas had been receiving. Anyway, the doctor tested Jonas for hours and then called me into the waiting room.” She sniffles into her tissue. The judge closes her eyes for a moment, clearly moved.

“He sat me down and told me that my poor baby would never be normal. That his brain was—damaged—that’s all. That he was retarded and showed every sign of being autistic.” She wipes away the rest of her tears as she looks at Hempstead. “At that moment I decided to become an advocate for
my child. I spent the next fourteen years of his life making sure he received the best care and all the love I could possibly give him. I never remarried or cared about anything again—except my son.”

Danielle walks back to the defense table. A few of the spectators look at her as if she has just defiled a statue of the Virgin Mary. Langley gives her a gleeful smirk. She continues. “Ms. Morrison, did any of the doctors who examined Jonas imply that there might be some other cause for Jonas’s disorders?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve told us Jonas’s problems started at birth,” she says. “Did anyone ever tell you that these disorders in fact developed much later and what they suspected caused them?”

“No, they did not.”

“No one ever suggested that there was some intervening event that might have led to damage to his brain?”

Marianne shoots her a smug look. “I don’t know what you’re trying to trick me into saying, Ms. Parkman. No one ever told me such a thing. I took excellent care of my child.”

Hempstead fixes Danielle with a harsh look. “Ms. Parkman, the care given by the mother of the decedent during his childhood and later years is not at issue in this case.”

“Perhaps it should be, Your Honor.”

Hempstead arches her eyebrows. “If you have evidence of what you claim, produce it. If not, there must be some area of inquiry relevant to your defense. Find it.”

“Of course, Your Honor.” She puts her hand on the witness stand and looks directly into Marianne’s eyes. “Ms. Morrison, you were educated as a physician and were a nurse for many years, isn’t that true?”

Marianne’s face relaxes. “Indeed, I was. Nursing provided me with the flexibility to give Jonas the care he needed.”

“What area of nursing did you specialize in?”