Tides of Truth [02] Higher Hope (45 page)

The rear door of the courtroom opened. Julie and I turned around. It wasn’t Mr. Carpenter with our client or Sister Dabney. A woman in her early thirties with short blonde hair, stylish glasses, and wearing a dark suit entered.

“Is this where
Paulding v. Dabney
is going to be heard?” she asked.

“Yes,” Julie answered.

The woman walked down the aisle to the bar.

“I’m Brenda Abernathy from the paper.”

The reporter could have passed for a female attorney. Julie and I introduced ourselves.

“Is this going to be open to the public?” Abernathy asked.

“Unless the judge decides it isn’t,” Julie replied.

“Anything dramatic expected to happen?” Abernathy continued, looking around the room. “I saw on the docket in the clerk’s office that it was a hearing on a motion for summary judgment. What’s that?”

Julie gave a good definition of the purpose of the proceeding and, to my relief, didn’t mention the specific facts of the case. I stood poised to interrupt if she got out of line. Abernathy made notes with a PDA.

“Court is usually boring except to the lawyers and parties,” Julie said.

“Have you been involved in a lot of trials?” Abernathy asked.

“No, but that’s what everyone tells me. Are you going to put my name in the paper?”

The reporter smiled. “Maybe. Let me make sure about the spelling.”

Julie gave her the information and added my name, too.

“Her real name is Tammy Lynn,” Julie said, lowering her voice, “but when she came to work in Savannah for the summer she changed it to Tami. There’s probably a human-interest story buried in that someplace. If you decide to write an article about Tami, I can be your primary source. We work together in the same room every day. She’s kind of a younger version of Reverend Dabney, but without—”

“I’m not interested in having my name or life story in the paper,” I interrupted.

The back door opened again. This time it was Sister Dabney. She was wearing a yellow dress I’d seen when I visited the church. Her face was flushed and red, making me wonder how she’d gotten to the court-house. I hoped the overweight woman hadn’t walked a long distance in the heat. She looked in our direction and squinted slightly.

“Reverend Dabney?” Abernathy asked.

“Yes.” Sister Dabney nodded.

The reporter faced the older woman in the middle of the aisle.

“I’m Brenda Abernathy, the reporter you contacted about Mr. Paulding. We talked on the phone a couple of months ago.”

“I remember,” Sister Dabney replied. “You didn’t believe me.”

“Could I ask you a few questions?”

Sister Dabney glanced past Abernathy toward Julie and me. When her eyes met mine, the butterflies in my stomach died. Cold fire danced across the preacher’s face.

“No,” Sister Dabney said.

“You made some serious allegations about Mr. Paulding,” Abernathy continued, “and I want to make sure I fairly report your side of this dispute. I can’t do that unless you talk to me.”

“You’re interested in sensationalism, not facts,” Sister Dabney answered. “I’ve seen your kind in other places. It’s wrong to handle holy things in an unholy way.”

I wanted to escape to the restroom and not be around for what happened next. The door behind the bench opened. A bailiff and the court reporter entered, followed by Judge Cannon.

“All rise,” the bailiff said.

Julie whispered to me, “Where is Mr. Carpenter?”

31

THE JUDGE SAT AND LOOKED AROUND THE COURTROOM.

“I call the case of
Paulding v. Dabney
, hearing on plaintiff ’s motion for summary judgment.”

Julie nudged me in the ribs and gestured toward the judge.

“Say something.”

“Uh, I’m Tami Taylor, a summer clerk with Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. We expect Mr. Carpenter any moment. He was coming to the courthouse from our client’s office and must have been delayed.”

“Didn’t you appear before me a few weeks ago?” the judge asked, looking at me over his glasses.

“Yes, sir. You gave me leave of court to represent a man named Moses Jones in a misdemeanor criminal matter.”

“That’s right. I rejected a plea agreement. Then you went judge-shopping and entered a plea in front of Judge Howell.”

My face flushed. “Other facts came out in the investigation, and Ms. Smith in the district attorney’s office spoke with Judge Howell about a plea. I think all sides were satisfied with the result.”

The judge waved his hand. “Judges talk, Ms. Taylor. We find out when lawyers manipulate the calendar.”

“Yes, sir.” I rested my hands on the table in front of me to keep myself steady.

“Where was Mr. Carpenter coming from?” the judge asked.

Julie quickly opened the file and slid it in front of me. I gave the judge the address.

“We’ll give him a few more minutes. Is the defendant in the courtroom?”

“I am,” Sister Dabney answered in a loud voice.

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“The best.”

“Who is it?”

“The Lord Jesus Christ.”

Julie stifled a laugh. I didn’t turn around, but I knew Brenda Abernathy was furiously scribbling on her PDA.

“I’ve heard that before,” Judge Cannon replied dryly. “The last person who made a statement like that is in the Georgia State Penitentiary. If you’re ready to proceed, come forward to the other table.”

I could see Sister Dabney out of the corner of my eye as she lowered herself slowly into one of the chairs. I expected her to have notes or papers with her, but the table was bare. She didn’t even have a Bible.

“And who else is present?” the judge asked.

“Brenda Abernathy from the newspaper,” the reporter answered.

“Is there any legal reason why the press should be excluded from this hearing?” the judge asked.

I leaned over to Julie. “What are the legal grounds to keep her out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could we wait for Mr. Carpenter to address that issue on behalf of the plaintiff, Your Honor?” I asked. “Ms. Feldman and I are primarily here to observe.”

“Very well.” The judge turned to Sister Dabney. “Ms. Dabney, do you have any objection to Ms. Abernathy’s presence?”

“It’s what she does when she leaves that may be the greater sin.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

In my mind I could see every word spoken by Sister Dabney repeated in an article in the newspaper. The back door of the courtroom opened. It was Mr. Carpenter and Jason Paulding. Mr. Carpenter’s face was as flushed as Sister Dabney’s when she arrived.

“Sorry, Your Honor,” the senior partner said as he walked up the aisle. “My car blew a water hose a few blocks from the courthouse.”

“Do you need a few minutes to prepare or are you ready to proceed?” the judge asked.

“Just a moment to get situated. Our proof is attached to the motion for summary judgment.”

“I reviewed the motion in chambers before coming into the court-room. While you get organized, I have some questions for the defendant. Ms. Dabney, did you receive a copy of the motion?”

“Yes.”

“Under the law you have a right to file a written response. Do you want to do so?”

“I can speak about it today.”

“Does that mean you waive or give up your right to delay the hearing to a later date so you can file something in writing?”

“The truth won’t change with the passing of time.”

“Are you ready to proceed today on the issues presented in the motion?”

“I don’t see any reason to put it off. Justice should be done speedily.”

“I wish more lawyers agreed with you,” the judge replied wryly. “Given your statement, I’ll allow Mr. Carpenter to go forward with his motion. After he presents his case, you can offer your evidence and any argument you deem appropriate.”

“Will I be able to question Mr. Paulding?” Sister Dabney asked.

The judge turned toward us. “Is this your client?”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Carpenter answered. “A comprehensive affidavit by Mr. Paulding is attached to the motion. I didn’t intend to offer any testimony from him.”

“I’ll allow the defendant to question him. Also, there is a member of the press present. Is there any reason why this hearing should not be open to the public?”

Mr. Carpenter glanced over his shoulder. I leaned closer to him.

“It’s Brenda Abernathy, the one who is writing an article about Sister Dabney.”

“No objection on behalf of the plaintiff,” Mr. Carpenter said.

“Ms. Abernathy may remain in the courtroom. You’re the moving party, Mr. Carpenter. I’ll hear from you first.”

Julie and I sat at one end of the counsel table. The senior partner stood and positioned his body so the judge didn’t have Sister Dabney in his line of sight. It was a subtle move consistent with Mr. Carpenter’s attention to every detail. Since no jury was present, he spoke in a conversational tone. I’d heard it all before in bits and pieces, but having it laid out like a story was effective. I found myself wondering why on earth, or in heaven, Sister Dabney would speak ill of Jason Paulding. Not only was it unreasonable, it was a malicious verbal assault on another human being.

“Ms. Dabney is the minister of a church,” Mr. Carpenter said, gesturing toward her for the first time. “She, above most people in society, should consider the effect of her words and actions. There is a responsibility that comes with a position of influence. This woman has abused that responsibility to an extreme degree, and we’re asking the court to hold her responsible for her actions.”

Mr. Carpenter then laid out the factual and legal basis supporting the motion for summary judgment. I knew this part of his presentation would be strong. As he went through the deposition testimony, I pretended to be Sister Dabney’s lawyer and tried to figure out a way she could wiggle out of the multiple admissions of liability. I considered several possibilities, but nothing workable came to mind.

“Judge, you also have the affidavit of Mr. Paulding, prepared by Ms. Taylor, one of our summer clerks.”

I blushed, embarrassed that Sister Dabney knew I’d played an active role in the attack against her. Julie gently nudged me with her toe under the table and curled her hand up like a cat’s paw. Mr. Carpenter didn’t read the entire affidavit, only the parts that addressed the issue of damages. As I listened, I realized Sister Dabney could still attack the damages model Mr. Carpenter was presenting. The money Mr. Paulding claimed he’d lost because of her actions was speculative. I quickly formed several questions in my mind that would under-mine our case. I was in the midst of my imaginary cross-examination of our client when Mr. Carpenter finished and sat down. The judge finished taking a few notes and turned toward Sister Dabney.

“The defendant may proceed.”

Sister Dabney braced herself against the arms of the chair and pushed herself to her feet.

“Judge, do you know the story of David and Uriah the Hittite?”

“No,” the judge said.

Sister Dabney faced the judge. “Then I’ll tell you. Uriah was one of King David’s mighty men. While Uriah was off fighting, David seduced Uriah’s wife, then arranged for Uriah to be put in the worst part of a battle where he was killed. David thought he’d gotten away with adultery and murder, but a prophet named Nathan came to David. The prophet told King David a story about a rich man who was having a meal with friends. The rich man owned a large herd of sheep, but instead of cooking one of his own, he took a poor man’s only sheep and fed it to his guests. Nathan used that story to confront David about what he’d done to Uriah. What do you think about that?”

“Ms. Dabney, the purpose of this hearing is not to tell me a Bible story or ask me questions. This is your opportunity to respond to the motion for summary judgment.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Do you know the legal significance of the motion?”

Sister Dabney squinted her eyes slightly. “If you grant the motion, then I might owe Mr. Paulding a lot of money.”

“That’s correct.”

“Would that be just? Isn’t Mr. Paulding like the man in the story? He owns property all over Chatham County, yet he’s trying to take the parcel of land I’ve dedicated to the Lord and his work. He’s trying to take the only little sheep I have. I want to give him a chance to repent and stop what he’s trying to do.”

“I’ll treat that as a motion to dismiss.” The judge turned to us. “Mr. Carpenter, having heard from the defendant, are you prepared to voluntarily withdraw the motion?”

“No, sir. We believe the motion is both just and supported by the law and the facts.”

The judge looked at Sister Dabney. I could see Brenda Abernathy furiously making notes.

“Is there anything else you want to offer by way of defense?”

“I want to ask Jason Paulding some questions.”

“Very well. The witness will come forward and be sworn.”

Mr. Carpenter leaned over to Paulding and gave him last-minute instructions that I couldn’t hear.

The judge spoke. “Ms. Dabney, I will give you latitude in your questions, but I ask you to respect the dignity of the court.”

“Paul respected the Sanhedrin. I can do the same.”

Julie leaned over to me and whispered, “That’s a Jewish council. I learned about it at synagogue when I was a kid.”

“It’s in the New Testament, too.”

“Really?”

The judge administered the oath, and Paulding sat in the witness chair. He tried to look relaxed and confident, but I knew he had to be nervous. I would have been terrified.

“Please state your name for the record,” the judge said.

“Jason Paulding, president and CEO of Paulding Development Corporation.”

“Ms. Dabney, you may proceed.”

My chair was positioned so that I had a clear view of Sister Dabney.

She was staring straight at Paulding, who shifted in his chair.

“Did you know the truth can either set you free or condemn you forever?” Sister Dabney asked.

The witness glanced at Mr. Carpenter, whose face didn’t move a muscle.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” Mr. Paulding answered.

“If you confess your sins and admit the truth, there is hope you might find mercy.”