Justify My Love: An Interracial Romance (BWWM) (18 page)

As everyone in earshot turned to see what her grandson was up to, a large cat rolled back and forth in the grass trying to remove from its coat something that looked like mustard. When she tried to spray the animal with the hose, it dashed off into the bushes.

“Don’t let that cat in the house,” Louise shouted to Frank.

Despite the laughter of the adults, Gregory wasn’t allowed to bask in his glory. Instead he was promptly placed into a chair and read the riot act by his mother.

Marnie was enjoying herself until Jay, the husband of Stephanie, Frank’s eldest daughter, asked his father-in-law one how the DeMarco case was going. Marnie had tried her best to avoid discussing it with Scott in order to keep things peaceful between them. She didn’t need anybody to bring the subject up.

“I hate when the media builds something up and then you don’t hear much of anything about it,” Jay said.

Frank clapped his son-in-law on the shoulder. “That’s because a jury had to be selected. The actual trial begins tomorrow.”

“It must be real cool for the both of you—I mean being on opposite sides in the same trial.”

“Okay. That’s enough shop talk, guys,” Louise said. “Let’s all enjoy the glorious weather and all the food. And speaking of food, if you all don’t eat some more, Frank and I will be eating this stuff for a month.”

Bless you, Louise
. Marnie could have gone over and hugged her. She knew law was like politics, everyone had a different opinion. And that usually led to arguments. The trial wasn’t mentioned again and the rest of the visit went well.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Monday morning came much too quickly. The weekend had been special. Marnie had had a nice time at the movies and a wonderful day at Frank’s with Scott. Things couldn’t have been more terrific between them. Today they’d begin the actual trial. Now as the pleasant memories of her delightful weekend with Scott were fading, Marnie feared all the pleasantries would disappear with the bang of the judge’s gavel.

She’d had a restless night and instead of meeting Frank at the courthouse as planned, she’d driven to the office knowing he’d be stopping there first. She needed to speak with him, though she couldn’t precisely state the actual reason. Her nerves were jangling and her stomach was in tight knots. Whether it was reassurance or guidance she seeking, what did it matter? She’d often begun a case feeling this way, but this one had so much more riding on its outcome.

Frank looked up as she knocked on his door frame. “Marnie! Why aren’t you at the courthouse? Were you afraid I’d forget?” he asked jovially, but his smile faded as he realized she wasn’t smiling. “Come on in and sit down a moment.”

Frank watched Marnie perch herself on the edge of the leather chair. Having detected her unsettled emotions, he attempted to calm her nerves.

“You’ll do fine. Just remain focused. And above all listen and be observant of the jury. They’re the heartbeat of the trial.”

“Frank, I don’t want to let you down.”

“Have you ever done so before?”

“No, but…”

“Don’t forget Victor DeMarco requested
you
. He could have selected anyone else from the firm, but he chose you. Now don’t lose sight of that or the reasons behind his choice.”

“It’s not that…”

Frank sighed deeply. “Marnie, Scott’s only a man. He has strengths, but above all, he has weaknesses. Like you’ve done before with other opponents, find out what those weaknesses are and exploit them. And above all, leave your feelings for Scott out of the courtroom.”

Marnie knew he was right, but she could still feel her heart ping-ponging against the wall of her chest. “I know. I’ll try.”

“Don’t try—do it. Cut him no slack. Now get your butt out of here. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes, myself.”

Marnie drove to the courthouse still feeling as if she were heading to her own execution. She wanted to feel more in control. Was Frank right? Had she simply lost sight of the issues? Had she worked so hard up until this point only to let it all slip away? She knew the answer to that question as well as she knew her own name.

She parked her car and walked into the courtroom with her head held high. No matter what her personal feelings, she had to do her best. Her client’s life depended upon it, which meant she had to give him the best representation possible. She arrived at the courtroom a few minutes before Scott. He walked in and nodded to her before he sat down. Then Frank walked in and sat down in the chair next to Marnie and DeMarco behind the defense table. He patted her hand and smiled. She returned the smile, feeling a great deal better now that he’d arrived. Having him at her side steeled her determination. Moments later the judge made his entrance and court was in session.

The first thing Judge Hewitt did was to swear in the jury. They were warned not to converse with each other or anyone else on any subject connected with the trial and especially told not to read or listen to the media. Marnie knew the judge meant every word he said. He’d dismissed many jurors in the past that’d compromised their positions.

The Judge took a few moments to explain to the jury the opening statements they were about to hear were not evidence, but what each side expects the evidence to show. Because it was a criminal case and the prosecution had the burden of proving that the defendant committed the crime, Scott gave his statement first.

He got up, closed the button on his suit jacket and approached the jury. He looked splendid in his three-piece suit, not that Marnie expected him to look any different. After introducing himself and thanking them for the service they were about to perform, he explained to the jury how important their part was to the criminal justice system, thereby enlisting them to his cause in bringing justice to the State. He was presenting himself as a nice guy who was only interested in justice. And then he began to tell them what justice would consist of in this case.

“The State will prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Victor DeMarco committed premeditated murder, plain and simple. There is no doubt that Victor DeMarco killed his wife. The state will show that this was an act of willful murder, perpetrated not for humanitarian reasons as the defense and the defendant would have you believe, but for personal expediency and financial gain. It was cold-blooded murder. And the state is asking for the maximum penalty there is under the law: conviction of first-degree murder punishable by death. Our evidence will show that not only had Victor DeMarco simply lost patience with caring for his wife, but her medical care caused him to divert funds from his business, causing him to close two of his companies. Thus having decided that he’d endured enough and wanting to preserve his funds, he placed himself above the law and put a gun to her head, thus ending her life horrifically. Keep in mind; it matters little whether or not Marie DeMarco had but a month or a day to live. What Victor DeMarco did was to commit murder, pure and simple. And it is your duty as jurors to find him guilty of the heinous crime.”

After acquainting the jury with whom his principal witnesses would be and what he expected to show by their testimony, Scott sat down.

Marnie swallowed hard. Now she knew that Scott was going for the jugular. Looking at his grim face, she realized he had meant every word he said. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but his vehemence shook her. She stood. Now it was her term to address the jury. She introduced herself and portrayed her client as a loving husband reluctantly carrying out his wife’s last wishes. She went into graphic detail about his wife’s suffering in an attempt to garner sympathy from the jury. Marnie watched each juror’s face as she spoke noticing that she’d touched a few hearts and felt the tears that had filled her own eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed. When she sat down, Frank whispered, “Good delivery,” into her ear. She nodded and mouthed thanks.

Scott called his first witness, the county coroner, and the case for the prosecution continued. Following the coroner’s testimony came that of the arresting police officers. Then the judge stopped the proceedings at noon to recess for lunch.

Frank turned to Marnie. “You did fine with your rebuttals.” Then looking more closely at her face, he said, “You look a little peaked, though. Are you all right?”

“I have a slight headache. I could use some air.”

“Let’s go to lunch. I need to discuss something with you.”

* * *

Wanting to watch his weight, Frank ordered a Chef’s salad and coffee, as did Marnie.

As soon as they were sipping their coffees, he brought up a problem that needed to be dealt with.

“Right after you left this morning; I learned that our expert witness, Dr. Wohl wasn’t going to testify.”

“Was any reason given?”

“Conflict of interest.”

“With Scott winding up his case in a few days or so, we’ll need to replace him fast.”

“I have one of the law clerks working on it exclusively.”

“Always something,” she said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Have you decided whether or not you’re going to put DeMarco on the stand? Personally, I think he’ll be very sympathetic figure and help his own case.”

Originally, Marnie had no doubts about putting Victor DeMarco on the stand. Now she wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to do. If Scott got to him during the cross-examination and made him angry enough to lose his temper, the jury would lose what little sympathy they might have for him. And that would be disastrous. After spending a tense half-hour with DeMarco she knew this was too real a possibility and didn’t want to risk an outburst in a courtroom filled to capacity.

This unpleasant underside of DeMarco’s character took her by surprise. Since she had only spoken to him during his despondent moods, she had no idea how much anger was actually bubbling beneath the surface, turning him into a ticking bomb. Luckily, she discovered it before unwittingly putting him on the stand. However, Frank knew nothing about this.

“I don’t think it will be a good idea, Frank.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a keg of dynamite waiting for a stray spark.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Frank, I wish I were. I went to DeMarco’s office to speak with him the other day. He seemed angry that I’d stopped by and acted as if I was pulling him away from something more important than his life. When I explained to him it would be a brief meeting, he relented and let me speak. I thought he’d calm down and we’d accomplish something, but I was wrong.”

“Tell me
exactly
what happened, Marnie.”

Marnie then described what happened between her and DeMarco in explicit detail. She told him about the accusation made by DeMarco that he was only a paycheck and that the firm was billing excess hours. To mollify him, she offered to get him another lawyer. His reply had stung her. Something about all lawyers being whores under the skin. When she decided to leave at that point, DeMarco roughly grabbed her arm, complaining that she was treating him like a misbehaving child. She struggled free of his grasp and left. Even though DeMarco had apologized to her the following day, the damage was still done. Aside from being leery of putting him on the stand, she no longer felt he trusted her and wondered if he ever had. To describe lawyers as whores was pretty damning stuff.

“Marnie, why didn’t you mention this to me?”

“Because, I thought DeMarco was merely having a bad day.”

“It does make your decision more difficult. I could read him the riot act.”

“You’ll certainly have to if he’s to take the stand.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The following day in court was a mirror image of the day before. Scott hammered at his case, building a picture of a husband on the brink of financial disaster whose insistence that he loved his sick wife was not so certain. Marnie’s cross-examination of the witnesses dulled some of the damage but not all.

Something that filtered through the testimony of Dr. Robert Minter, DeMarco’s physician needed clarification. Therefore, she and Frank went to speak to DeMarco after court despite her exhaustion. Marnie now only spoke to DeMarco in Frank’s presence even though he’d apologized for his nasty behavior. After experiencing his tirade, she was on board with Frank’s decision concerning the matter.

They used an interview room in the courthouse. Marnie sat at the table with Frank at her side, while Victor DeMarco paced the room.

“Please sit down, Victor, you’re making me dizzy,” Frank said.

DeMarco pursed his lips and slumped down into a chair. He began to tap his right forefinger on the edge of the table. Frank glanced at Marnie and nodded for her to begin the questions. Marnie flipped through her notes and honed in on her earlier interview with DeMarco. “Victor, when you told me why you couldn’t stand to see Laura in pain, you stated that Dr. Minter told you your wife could linger for months. Isn’t that so?’

“Yes.”

“When was the last time Dr. Minter examined your wife and adjusted the dosage?”

De Marco was becoming agitated. “I dunno…about a couple weeks before she—she died, I guess.”

“This is very important. Please try to remember.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to establish whether or not Dr. Minter had reason to change his prognosis about your wife’s survival time.”

“How is that going to help me?”

“The prosecution is trying to make a case that there was no reason to hasten her death if she had only a few days to live as they are claiming. You maintain it was the thought of her suffering for months that prompted your actions.”

“A few days…a few months…what the hell difference does it make? I’m sick of the whole thing.”

“Victor, if you’re tired and want to stop, we’ll do this another time,” Marnie said, trying to keep her voice steady and not sound as exasperated as he’d already made her.

With no warning, the agitated man slammed his fist down on the table before he pushed his face an inch from hers and screamed, “No more questions, Counselor!” definitely scaring the living daylights out of her.

For a big man, Frank was quick. He reached over and grabbed DeMarco by the lapels of his suit and got directly in his face, their noses practically touching. Frank’s face was a glowering mask of rage. With a strained voice laced with fury, he demanded, “You apologize to Ms. Davis and pray she doesn’t cut you loose.”

The color had completely drained from DeMarco’s face. There was now a noticeable tic in his left cheek. In a quivering voice that was little more than a squeak, he said, “I apologize for my outburst.”

Marnie had already gotten out of her chair and hovered close to the door, ready to bolt. Frank signaled her to return to the table.

“Mr. DeMarco, please repeat what you just said. Ms. Davis may not have heard you all the way over there.”

“I apologize for my outburst.”

Marnie nodded. Her lower lip still trembled, but she sat down again.

“From henceforth, you will always answer every question posed to you respectfully and to the best of your ability. Is that understood?” Frank told him.

DeMarco nodded his head rapidly.

“I didn’t hear you,” Frank said.

“Yes,” DeMarco replied.

Frank released his grip on Demarco and he shrugged his body back into his suit jacket.

“Marnie, do you wish to continue?” Frank asked.

Now that Frank had put the fear of God into their client, this was going to be the best of times to question the man. Therefore, reaching deep inside herself for the strength to go on, she said, “Yes.” Despite her attempts to keep her voice neutral, it was a shaky reply, barely louder than a whisper.

The questioning went on for another half-hour before Frank allowed Victor DeMarco to leave. Marnie got her answers, but they came at a cost. She was quite aware of the fact that things might have really gone sideways had Frank not been with her. She’d seen her boss lose his temper before, but she’d never seen him as angry as he was with DeMarco. And she hoped she never saw a replay any time soon.

After the interview ended, Frank walked outside with Marnie. “Are you all right to drive home?” he asked her.

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Frank, I don’t know what might have happened had you not been there.”

“I don’t intend to ever find out. You’re never to be alone with that man. Though I doubt he’ll lose it like that again, I still don’t trust him.”

“When he exploded like that, John Kalb’s face flashed in front of me.”

“I can just imagine.” Gesturing with his thumb and forefinger, he said, “I came this close to marching into the judge’s chambers and telling the judge we could longer defend the man. I wanted to throw him to the wolves—or at least under a bus. But I knew how much time you’d already invested in this case. Besides, I didn’t want the partners to think you couldn’t handle the case.”

“Thank you, Frank. You’re the best second chair I ever had.”

He exploded into a roar of laughter. Then he uncharacteristically pulled her tightly to him. “I almost lost you once. No case is worth the life of someone I care for.”

Marnie tightened her arms around his back. He’d become more than a supervisor to her, as well.

* * *

The following days were nearly a blur as they raced by. Scott rested his case for the prosecution. He’d done his best to harden the hearts of the jury against DeMarco, painting him as a murderer who deserved to be punished. He’d placed blinders around their eyes preventing them from seeing the shades of gray surrounding the crime.

Now it was Marnie’s job to tear those blinders from the eyes of the jury. She had to make each member of the jury see and feel her client’s pain. To revisit his terrible experience of having to make such an insufferable choice—the only viable one he felt he could make under the circumstances. They had to understand how driven he’d been to end the torment and suffering of the woman he had so dearly loved for the previous twenty-four years of his life. She’d recalled Dr. Minter who had been a witness for the prosecution to the stand.

Marnie rose from her chair and approached Dr. Minter.

“Dr. Minter, in your original testimony here, you stated that Mrs. DeMarco would have died within forty-eight hours—”

“Or less.”

“But isn’t it a fact that barely a week before the tragedy you told Mr. DeMarco that his wife could ‘linger’ for months?”

Dr. Minter squirmed in his chair. “I don’t recall that.”

Marnie rifled through some papers on her table as if looking for something. She held up a sheet of paper. “According to the nurses’ rosters, your last visit to Mrs. DeMarco was six days prior to her death.”

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

“And don’t you recall your conversation with Mr. DeMarco at that time when he asked you if there was nothing more you could do for his wife? Don’t you recall your reply?”

“Mrs. DeMarco was already receiving as much pain medication we could give her without outright killing her,” the doctor said defensively.

“Dr. Minter, did you not tell Mr. DeMarco that you were—“ Marnie reviewed her notes, “sorry but she could linger in this state—in severe, unrelenting pain—for weeks, even months?”

“Objection!” Scott said. “Badgering the witness.”

“Overruled,” said the judge. “Please answer the question, Dr. Minter.”

“Well, I just don’t recall saying that, your honor. I have many patients. When you are sick like she was, there is bound to be pain.”

Several members of the jury blanched at what they perceived to be a callous statement. Marnie could tell they were thinking, “Is this all the help Mr. DeMarco got to ease his wife’s pain?” Marnie held up a sheet of paper. “And what if I tell you I have a statement from the nurse confirming the conversation?”

Dr. Minter regarded her coldly. “Well, if she said so, maybe I did. I just don’t recall.”

“So the prospect of seeing his beloved wife in such agony for weeks or even months could push any loving husband over the edge. Thank you, doctor. No further questions.”

There was fury in Scott’s eyes as she passed him.

One by one, Marnie presented the testimony of the witnesses who testified to the devotion of the DeMarcos to each other. They had just renewed their marriage vows despite her illness.

Thus far in her career as a litigator, there hadn’t been a time when Marnie represented a client whom she didn’t feel was innocent. The thought of getting a murderer off and letting them walk freely amongst the public chilled her to the bone. Unfortunately the law provided that everyone was entitled to proper representation. However, in Victor DeMarco’s case she felt differently. She knew he had committed the deed, but felt that it had been an act to stop the suffering of his wife. How would she have acted had she been in his shoes? She didn’t need time to reflect, for she was certain of how she’d deal with it. Now she would have to convince the jurors to feel the same way she did.

Up until this point, she and Scott had managed not to let the trial affect their personal relationship. Certainly they had a few tense moments when they won points against one another in court, but nothing that couldn’t be easily swept aside—until an enterprising young reporter decided to stir the news pot and make his name a household one.