Hostile Witness

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 20

"I should have been a mechanic like my father." - Judge Cy Norris to his clerk upon leaving the bench.

Josie once dated an emergency room doctor. She loved his wickedly dark sense of humor, his goatee, and the way he cooked. She didn't like the fact that being near a body of water larger than a bathtub made him seasick, and he wanted to have a house in the suburbs filled with children.

They had parted ways after a year but Josie always remembered something he said. A great deal of blood could come from just one wound. Once you found the wound, you could make a decision about what to do: work to save the poor bastard or let God deal with it.

In the windowless holding cell off Norris's courtroom Josie leaned up against the wall and looked for Hannah's wound while someone else cleaned up the blood. The jurors were at lunch, though she doubted they had an appetite. Judge Norris called a doctor, advised he would expect Josie back in the courtroom for her cross, and gave permission for Hannah to be excused in the company of her mother to seek further medical attention - mental or physical. Josie sent back her thanks. He was not only a kind man he was a smart one who wanted to control his courtroom now that the floodgates had been opened: Hannah being half carried away, blood everywhere, Linda barred from the room as Hannah became ever more hysterical, while crying that she was so sorry. So sorry.

For the last ten minutes, though, all had been quiet. The doctor who had responded to Judge Norris's call was an older woman, unfazed by what she found. She spoke little, did her work well, and bandaged Hannah's arm with great care before she left. Hannah's arms were crossed on the tabletop, her head resting on them, and her eyes were closed. It was the first time Josie had seen her completely at rest. No tapping, no counting, worn out, and psychically and emotionally exhausted.

Josie watched her thoughtfully and counted her own failings. She had seen a hundred other clients proclaim their innocence, fall into despair, cry and wail against the system. At one time in her life, Josie had been able to gauge guilt in a split second. It had been a talent left dormant, a dull blade that no longer sliced easily through a client's guile - until now. Now Josie believed what she saw: Hannah was only a poor, confused girl who had sealed her own fate, whether guilty or not. Finally Josie pushed herself away from the wall. It was time to probe for Hannah's real wound.

"We're okay here." Quietly, Josie dismissed the bailiff. He hesitated but eventually left them alone. Josie touched the door as it closed behind him then pulled a chair close to Hannah and laid her hand atop the girl's head.

"Hannah, come on. We've got to talk."

Hannah's lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened. She stared, but saw nothing. It was another minute, maybe two before Hannah found the energy to speak.

"I'm sorry about your shirt. I'm sorry about everything."

"Forget the shirt." Josie petted Hannah, smoothing her hair, talking quietly. "It's the everything we need to talk about. Can you sit up? Can you talk to me?"

Hannah's body trembled. She raised her head. It was so hard for her. Finally she sat up. Her hands fell to her sides. She looked at the bandages.

"I don't even remember doing it. I just remember Kip talking and talking."

"Hannah do you want your mother to come in while we get things settled?" Josie asked.

Hannah shook her head. "No. She'll just say she was right all along. I should have done what she said. I should have gone to the hospital but I wanted to show her I was strong, too. I wanted to be strong like her." A pitiful sob bubbled up and escaped. Just one. She put her fingers to her lips. "I just couldn't listen to him anymore."