Presumption of Guilt (27 page)

Dani had met her in the front vestibule, and together they walked away from the concrete building to the mass of cars in the visitors’ lot. Molly carried only a small paper bag. During twelve years of incarceration, she’d accumulated little of worth. She’d wanted to leave everything associated with the prison behind, to wipe it clean from her memory. At the last minute, she’d grabbed the notebooks she’d written in over the years. If her reprieve were only temporary, if she had to go back to that filthy institution, she’d want her recorded musings with her.

“I’m so nervous,” Molly said as she slipped into Dani’s car.

“Of course you are. But your sister will help you through it.”

Molly was quiet for a time as Dani put the prison behind them. She didn’t look back.

Then she found herself thinking of what Dani had said.
Your sister will help you through it.
It was such a foreign concept that she could hardly make sense of it. “Donna and I haven’t spoken in so many years. We’re both different people now. I don’t know her husband, her children. How can I possibly fit in there?”

“Look, it’s going to be an adjustment no matter where you live. Don’t expect everything to fall into place all at once. Take baby steps. And let Donna help you. She really does love you.”

Molly sighed, then leaned back in the car and closed her eyes. After a while, she opened them and saw they were on the New York State Thruway. Everything looked both familiar and yet fresh to her. After an hour of driving, she caught her first glimpse of the mountains she’d loved. From a young age, her parents had taken her and Donna hiking in those mountains during the warm months, skiing down them during the winter. The memory of those times pained her. They had been such a happy family. Now her parents were gone and her relationship with her sister had shriveled and died.

She didn’t speak again until they pulled up in front of Donna’s house. As they pulled into the driveway, Molly took in the house, the grounds, and the view of the mountains. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Len’s business has done well.”

“Have you met him?”

“Not yet.”

“I hope he doesn’t mind my being here.”

Dani turned to Molly and put her hand on hers. “They both want you here. Come on. Let’s go in.”

Slowly, Molly exited the car, then stopped. “I can’t.”

Dani came over to her and said softly, “You can. You withstood twelve years in prison. You can do this.” Together, they slowly made their way to the front door, then rang the bell. Within seconds, the door flew open, and Donna threw her arms around Molly. She didn’t say a word as she held Molly tightly.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Donna said when she finally found her voice. She stepped back and took a long look at her sister. “You’re still so pretty. I didn’t know what to expect.” Donna glanced downward. “I mean, I didn’t know what prison had done to you.”

“It made me stronger.”

“Oh, no, honey. You were always strong.”

Molly looked her sister over. “You look different. More like Mom.”

Donna laughed. “As long as you don’t tell me I
act
like Mom.”

Molly laughed, too, and at that moment, a weight was lifted. Her years of thinking of Donna as the enemy melted away, and they were teenagers again, allies against their parents’ rules.

“Come in and meet the family. You, too, Dani. Len will be home later, but the kids are here.”

Molly stepped into the foyer, and Donna took her hand to lead her into the living room. It was furnished simply, with contemporary furniture in the soothing colors of an island retreat. Seated on the couch, along with Donna’s children, was Sophie. Molly’s hand flew to her mouth. She rushed over to her daughter, who’d bounced to her feet, threw her arms around her, and kissed her forehead. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I hope you don’t mind my asking her,” Donna said. “I wasn’t sure if you would have preferred to settle in first.”

“Mind? No, I’m thrilled.” Sophie sat back on the couch and Molly sat down next to her and wrapped her hand around her daughter’s.

“This is Sarah and this is Jacob,” Donna said, pointing to her two children.

Molly’s eyes moistened. “You named her after Mom.”

Donna nodded. “I miss her. Dad, too.”

Molly looked at her niece and nephew. She’d never even seen pictures of them before, and now they were before her in the flesh. Sarah looked like childhood pictures of her namesake, with blonde hair, a pug nose, and a round face. Jacob was more angular, with light-brown hair that flopped over his eyes and covered his ears and neck. Molly leaned over and held out her hand to Sarah. “Nice to meet you. How old are you?”

“I’m nine. Almost ten. And it’s serendipitous to meet you.”

Molly looked at her sister quizzically. “Sarah likes big words,” Donna said.

“That’s because I have Williams syndrome,” Sarah piped in. “It makes me special.”

Dani, who’d taken a seat at the end of the coach, laughed quietly at that and beamed at Sarah.

“I can see you’re special,” Molly said. “And how old are you?” she asked Jacob, who’d been squirming on the couch ever since she walked in.

“I’m six and I’m in the first grade.”

“Well, I bet you’re learning a lot of good things.”

“I can read,” Jacob said, sticking out his chest.

“Maybe you can read me a book later?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, kids, scoot,” Donna said. “Let Molly get settled.”

Molly held on to Sophie’s hand to make sure she didn’t leave with the younger children, then looked up at Donna. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What for?”

“For posting bail, for letting me stay here. I’ve been pretty horrible to you, never answering your letters or letting you visit me.”

“Oh, Molly, I’m the one to ask for forgiveness. I never should have doubted you.” She stood erect over her sister. “And I promise. I’ll never doubt you again.”

C
HAPTER

47

D
ani had hoped the district attorney would choose not to retry Molly. She had already served twelve years for a crime of which the evidence was flimsy. But the prosecutor knew that, no matter what any expert said, jurors were spellbound by confessions. And so he had chosen to go ahead.

Now, six weeks after Molly’s release, Dani, Tommy, and Melanie were booked into rooms in the local Holiday Inn. Even though their homes were only two hours away, it was too long a drive to go back and forth each day during the trial. Juror selection was scheduled to begin the next morning. Unlike high-powered firms with wealthy clients, there was no jury consultant who’d sit in the courtroom and advise Dani on which men and women were more likely to be sympathetic to Molly. She had only herself to rely on. Although she rarely tried jury cases at HIPP, she expected to call on her years of experience prosecuting cases at the US Attorney’s Office.

“All set for tomorrow?” Tommy asked.

“Yep.”

“Nervous?”

“Yep.” Dani was always nervous at the start of a trial, just as she always had to calm her nerves at the start of an oral argument on her appeals cases. But she knew the nerves would die down, and instinct and skill would take over once she began.

“I told the witnesses it would probably be at least a week before we got to them,” Melanie said.

“That sounds right.” Dani calculated two days for juror selection, three days for the prosecution’s case, and four days for the defense. Given the lack of forensic evidence, the district attorney should be able to get in everything he needed in one day, but Dani knew from experience he would drag it out.

They ate dinner together, Dani foregoing any alcohol, then retreated to their rooms. Once again, Dani looked over her notes. She was prepared, ready to give Molly her chance for freedom.

The next morning, they headed over to the courthouse together. The courtroom assigned to them was as airless as the building that housed it. Dani and Melanie took seats up front, with Molly sitting between them. Acting Chief Justice Arnold Silver presided over the proceedings. Forty prospective jurors were seated, ready to be called for voir dire. Dani had considered moving the judge for a change of venue to a different county but decided against it. The publicity surrounding Judge Bryson and Sheriff Engles’s arrest would more likely work in her favor.

The first six prospective jurors were called to the jury box. After they took their seats, Assistant District Attorney Eric Murdoch began his questioning. He went through the jurors methodically, asking their names, whether they had any relationship with the defendant, her attorney or the ADA, their occupation, and about their family. He asked them if they’d read about the case or if they’d read about the arrests of Bryson and Engles. He asked if they could keep an open mind and judge the case on the evidence and not on any knowledge or experience they brought to the jury room. When he finished with each one, Dani had only one question: do you believe a person can confess to a crime when she didn’t commit it? At the end of two days, they had their jury.

After the day in court ended, she drove Molly back to her sister’s home. Once settled in the car, Molly asked, “Do you think we have a good jury?”

“I hope so. You can never tell, though. Sometimes jurors answer what they think you want to hear and then do an about-face during deliberations.”

“I’m frightened.”

Dani glanced over at her client. Her face was pale and her hands shook. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Dani covered Molly’s hand with her other. “You have a right to be scared. And when you’re at home, let it all out. Cry or scream or run around in circles. But tomorrow, in the courtroom, I want you to look calm, but resolute. You want the jurors to see you’re taking the trial seriously, but you’re not afraid because you know you’re innocent. Can you do that?”

“I’ll—I’ll try.”

“Good girl.”

“It’s just—I can’t go back there. Now that I’m free, now that I have a chance to be with Sophie, now that I’m getting close to Donna again, getting to know my niece and nephew—I just can’t do it.”

Dani understood. She also understood it was up to her to make sure Molly didn’t go back to prison.

“Ready, Mr. Murdoch?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Murdoch walked over to the jury box, ready to begin his opening statement. He stood a foot away from the jurors and looked solemnly at each one before beginning.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. You are here to decide whether Molly Singer, when she was seventeen years old, murdered her mother and father. You will hear testimony that on the night her parents were murdered, she was the only other person in the house. You will learn that no doors or windows were broken or tampered with. Her classmates at the time will tell you that she often complained about the restraints placed on her by her parents. And you will see on videotape her confession to the crime. When you hear all the evidence, you will realize that no other conclusion can be reached but that Ms. Singer murdered her parents. Thank you.”

Murdoch walked slowly back to his seat and sat down. Judge Silver nodded at Dani and she stood up, then walked over to the jurors.

“Good morning. Mr. Murdoch would like you to think that this is a very simple case. And it is. It is simple because you will find, as the prosecution presents its case, that there is absolutely no evidence that ties Ms. Singer to the crime. There is no weapon with her fingerprints on it. There was no blood on Ms. Singer from the bodies of her parents. There is no evidence of psychological disturbance in her history. The complaints she made to her classmates are the same that you probably made when you were a teenager. The only basis they have for believing Ms. Singer committed this horrible crime against parents she loved is her confession, which she immediately recanted when she was no longer in police custody. You will hear a great deal of evidence about the phenomena of false confessions and realize that Ms. Singer was tricked into believing she’d done something she hadn’t. Listen to the evidence carefully, and when you do you’ll conclude that the state has not come close to meeting its burden of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Thank you.”

Dani walked back to her table and sat down. Melanie nodded at her.

“Call your first witness,” the judge said to Murdoch.

“Detective Dylan Baxter.”

A broad-shouldered man with thinning hair combed over a bald spot, dressed in casual cream-colored slacks and a striped button-down shirt, ambled to the front of the room and took a seat in the witness box. After he was sworn in, Murdoch said, “Please state your name and occupation.”

“Dylan Baxter, detective first grade with the New York State Police.”

“And how long have you been a police officer?”

“Twenty-two years, the last fourteen as a detective.”

“Were you present at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Singer the morning they were murdered?”

“Yes, sir. I was called to the scene and was lead detective on the case.”

“And what did you observe when you arrived?”

“The first thing I saw was their daughter, Molly. She was sitting in the living room with the first police officers that arrived at the premises.”

“Would you describe how she looked?”

“Very calm. She just sat on the couch quietly. When she saw me, she nodded.”

“Thank you. Now what did you do next?”

“I went upstairs and viewed the bodies. Mr. Singer was fully in bed, and Mrs. Singer was lying partially out of the bed.”

“And what did that indicate to you?”

“That Mr. Singer was murdered first and Mrs. Singer was awakened by it and tried to escape.”

“Isn’t it true that suggests there were two murderers?”

“Not necessarily. Mrs. Singer might not have awakened until the attacker had finished with her husband and come over to her side of the bed.”

“But she was half out of the bed, trying to escape, you said. If the attacker was standing over her, wouldn’t he have just pushed her back down on the bed?”

“She,” the detective said, emphasizing the pronoun “may have been on her way over to that side when she awoke. Only the murderer”—he pointed to Molly—“the defendant over there, knows exactly how it went down.”