Exit Strategy (30 page)

I want to shout for joy when he allows me to clear up the doubt Ms. Wise raised as to whether I was coherent enough to know whether I was saying no to Darryl taking me out of the club.

“Ms. Beale, were you cognizant of what was transpiring when the defendant put you over his shoulder to take you out of the club?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you want your ex-boyfriend to take you home, or rather to your mother’s home?”

“Because I wasn’t sure he was taking me to either place. Byron’s and my relationship didn’t end well.”

“Can you describe the term ‘well’ for the court?”

“I caught him in bed with another woman.”

“And what did you do on that occasion?”

“They were sleeping so soundly my loud entry didn’t wake them up. So, I took some superglue and... and attached his hand to her breast.” Several people in the courtroom titter with laughter. A glare from Judge Summers shuts the culprits up. “Then they began to stir as if they were about to wake up, so I left.”

“Did you have occasion to see or talk to Mr. McCaskill after that incident?”

“He called me very angry, talking about how he was going to beat my ass for that prank I pulled. I told him if he came to my apartment ever again I would call the police. Then he called a few more times, apologizing and lying about what happened between him and the woman he was in bed with. He asked me if he could come by so we could talk, but I refused to see him. He even showed up at my place a couple of times, but I called the cops on him, so he eventually gave up. But I didn’t take any chances. I tried to make sure we were never in the same place together again, because he was still quite upset after everything, and I didn’t want him to make good on his threat.”

“When you saw Mr. McCaskill at Wicked on the night in question, how did he react to seeing you?”

“He acted really cool at first, but just before I was drugged, he seemed agitated with me.”

“How so?”

“When I whispered something to Princess Danai, he scowled at me.”

“Why was the scowl significant to you, Ms. Beale?

“Byron didn’t care for people whispering around him. It made him paranoid to the point of violence.”

“Was Mr. McCaskill ever violent toward you during your relationship?”

Oh my God. I’ve never told a soul this, but I’m under oath so I have to tell the truth. “Yes.”

I look at Tristan when I answer, and he looks around in agitation then glares at the back of Byron’s head like he’s ready to leap over to the defendant’s table and rip him apart. I see horror in my mother’s eyes and compassion in Pastor Johnson’s, but Jada is about the same as Tristan. She’s vibrating in her seat, one leg jumping almost of its own volition.

“Was he violent on more than one occasion?”

“No.” My hands are now clammy, and my throat is parched from nervousness. It’s so scratchy I begin to cough.

“Would you like some water, Ms. Beale?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Mr. Todd gets me a bottle of water from a table next to the court reporter, screws the lid partially off, and hands it to me. I open it and take a long drink, grateful not to have to speak again, if only for a few moments.

“Ready to continue?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you describe what happened between you and Mr. McCaskill when he was violent with you.”

“Yes. We had been dating for about eight months when he got a chance to do a gig for a local club. I was struggling in my classes because I was spending so much time with him, so when he asked me to agree to play for him on this regular gig, I told him no. My college education was more important than a regular gig at some hole in the wall. He got upset when I told him no and ... and he hit me.”

“Where and how did he hit you, Ms. Beale?”

“He backhanded me across the face.”

“And then what happened?”

“I fell to the floor, but I couldn’t get up because I had a panic attack and he ... he got scared and called 9-1-1. Before the EMTs got there, he was all over me apologizing and saying how much he loved me and that he would never, ever do that again. Then he told the EMTs that I fell on my face when the panic attack hit, and I was too stupid to refute him. He was so contrite and so good to me after they kept me at the hospital overnight for observation that I forgave him. The sad thing is, I lied to my mother and my friends about my bruised face, and they believed me.”

“Did you ever fear that he would hit you again?”

“Yes. One other time.”

“What happened?”

“It was about six months before I caught him cheating, he’d just been signed to a record label and there was a big industry party at a hotel downtown that he wanted me to go to. It was exam week, and I told him I couldn’t make it. He said my exams weren’t as important as him and that I didn’t care about what was important to him. He got really upset, but I warned him again that if he hit me again I would not only call the police, I would tell my brothers. He backed off, but I believe that was when he began to cheat on me regularly because pictures of him came out in a magazine, and in every one, there was this girl. He said she was a video dancer who liked to hang out at all the industry parties, but I wasn’t stupid. She had been his flavor of the weekend.”

“Thank you for being so brave and answering all my questions, Ms. Beale.” I’m not certain, but I could swear there are tears in Prosecutor Todd’s eyes when he pats my hand and goes back to his seat.

“Ms. Wise you may cross-examine the witness after we recess for lunch,” Judge Summers intones solemnly.

~*~

When the trial resumes after lunch, Prosecutor Todd asks for a sidebar, and Judge Summers immediately advises the court of his request. I listen dumfounded by the demonstration of my mother’s love and that of the man she’s going to marry.

“Ms. Beale’s mother, pastor, and church family have asked to be excused during the presentation of certain evidence by the defense. Particularly, photos of a very personal nature. The members of opposing counsel are in mutual agreement, and I am inclined to grant Mrs. Clara Lee Beale, Pastor Johnson, and those members of his congregation who wish to be excused a recess before and after this evidence is to be presented,” Judge Summers says.

I crane my neck to get a glimpse of my mother and Pastor Johnson seated behind us and mouth to them a heartfelt “Thank you.” Mama mouths back, “I love you, baby,” and Pastor Johnson signals to me to keep my chin up by lifting his chin with his forefinger then claps a hand over his heart as the Judge continues.

“I shouldn’t have to say this, but I will for the sake of those members of the media who might be present. If any of these photos are leaked into the press, I will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”

Tristan squeezes my shoulder, and I lean as far into him as the seating arrangement will allow. When I meet his eyes, he smiles and touches my temple with his lips.

“I promise you this—once this trial is over, no one will ever see you like this again. Except me.”

Juanita Wise wastes no time assaulting my character. She presents her evidence, which includes the dastardly semi-nude pictures from New Orleans when I was a stupid freshman. I foolishly believed myself in love with a man who was too much like the father whose mistreatment left me traumatized.

It is sacrifice enough that my mother postponed her wedding to see me through this trial, but the stand she’s taken against seeing photos that might color her view of her own child is astounding. I love her so much for refusing to partake in Byron’s humiliation of me.

Ms. Wise shows some twenty pictures of me in various poses—mostly shots of me and another coed flashing our boobs for beads. We had all been so drunk and foolishly got caught up in the melee at Mardi Gras. Now I feel like one of those girls on that late night show that used to chronicle the humiliations of college coeds during spring break. The most damning ones are of me at our hotel—shots Byron took that were never meant for anyone else’s eyes. Thank God I’d had the presence of mind not to let him take any full frontal or fully nude photos. I would never be able to hold my head up in this town again.

Tristan’s face is set in stone, a vein working in his jaw, as the slideshow plays. His arm is still firmly around me, but I know this has to be difficult for him. This is something he has no control over, and his aversion to sharing is being trumped by a system he cannot manipulate.

Not only did Byron betray me by cheating when we were dating, he violated me by plying me with a drug I didn’t ask to consume, and now he’s put personal photos of me on display to the world. I am so angry with him I’m not aware that tears are streaming down my face until the lights came up. Tristan pulls me into his arms and holds me, allowing my tears to soak into the fabric of his expensive suit.

During a brief recess, Mama, Pastor Johnson, and the members of church return to the courtroom, and I eye them over Tristan’s shoulder. As they are reentering, I see the redhead I saw at the mayor’s function leaving. She turns and smirks at me before the door closes behind her.

As I return to the stand, the judge reminds me that I am still under oath. I miss the cue to answer twice.

“Ms. Beale, are you able to proceed?” Judge Summers’s booming voice brings me out of my reverie.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Juanita Wise waltzes over to her preferred position right in front of the jury box and addresses me. “Ms. Beale, someone drugged you with egregious intent, and it is not my desire to make this any more difficult for you than it has to be. I am tasked with doing a job for the defendant who could lose his freedom, so please don’t take this personally.”

Her sincerity is palpable, but I know she’s been doing this for a long time, and my mama didn’t raise no fool. However, I nod at her, because I can’t imagine what she expects me to say to that pronouncement.

“Did my client know you would be at Wicked that night, Ms. Beale?”

“No. As I told Prosecutor Todd, I believe he was as shocked to see me as I was to see him.”

“How did my client greet you that night, Ms. Beale?”

“He picked me up, swung me around, and told me how good I looked.”

“Did you feel threatened in any way by his actions?”

“Well, at first I thought he might be a little bitter about everything that happened, so I mentally prepared myself for it.”

“In what way?”

“I was ready to fight him off if I had to.”

“Oh, really? You are barely a hundred and ten pounds. My client is five foot eleven and almost doubles you in weight. How were you going to fight him?”

“I have brothers who taught me self-defense.”

“I see. Did it not occur to you to enlist the bouncers or security if you felt threatened by this man?”

“Ms. Wise, I’m from the south side of Chicago. We never run from a fight.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you fight Mr. McCaskill back when he allegedly hit you the first time?”

“Have you ever been hit, Ms. Wise?”

“No, and as much as I’d like to humor you and continue with this line of questioning, I must remind you: I ask the questions. You answer them.”

“I was answering your question regarding why I didn’t fight Byron when he hit me. In order to do so, I need to tell you the condition I was in when he hit me.”

“Okay. What condition were you in when he hit you?”

“He hit me so hard, it was as if I lost oxygen and went loopy. I was unsteady on my feet, as if my arches had fallen. Couple that with a panic attack and I wasn’t in any physical condition to fight anyone when Byron hit me that night.”

Ms. Wise frowns. “Back to the events of the night in question. How did you end up drinking with your ex?”

“I wasn’t aware that he was opening up for Princess Danai until he told me, so after his act, he came up into VIP and bought me and Princess Danai drinks.”

“What were you drinking?”

“Champagne.”

“Did you consume anything stronger than champagne that night?”

“Yes, I had two mixed drinks at the bar before I joined Princess Danai in her section.”

“Would it be possible to say that whatever drug you consumed could have been given to you by someone at the bar?”

“No, other than being a little lightheaded from my drinks on an almost empty stomach, I didn’t feel like I was under the influence of anything stronger until I began to drink the champagne with Byron.”

“By that time, Mr. White had joined you all, had he not?”

“Yes, he joined us shortly before we finished the bottle of champagne Byron bought.”

“So you and Princess Danai had consumed a bottle previously?”