Until I Saw Your Smile (50 page)

Judge Pedroia stared at Filardi. “You asked her to enlighten us, Mr. Filardi. That's what she's doing.”

Filardi looked lost. “Your honor, I
disapprove
of her calling Mr. Warrick ‘cowardly.' ”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Angela said. “Did I call Mr. Warrick ‘cowardly'? I won't call Mr. Warrick ‘cowardly' again. I don't know why I said the word ‘cowardly' in reference to Mr. Warrick. ‘Cowardly' isn't a word I even use that often, and here I am applying it to Mr. Warrick. I wonder what made me say it today.” She glared at Warrick.

Filardi blinked several times.

Angela looked up at Judge Pedroia. “May I continue my answer?”

Filardi rushed back to his legal pad and lifted it up. “You had never seen Mr. Warrick until you saw his picture in the paper. Is this correct?”

Angela sighed. “Your honor, I wasn't done with my previous answer. I wasn't through enlightening the court about why Mr. Warrick's cowardly DNA wasn't found at my shop or apartment.”

“She used the word again!” Filardi shouted.

“I referred to his
DNA
as being cowardly,” Angela said. “I didn't say Mr.
Warrick
was cowardly this time.”

“Your honor,” Filardi pleaded.

Judge Pedroia looked down at Angela. “Miss Smith, I don't think DNA can be considered cowardly. It is what it is.”

“Oh, I agree, your honor,” Angela said. “I was just considering the
source
of that DNA.”

“Your honor!” Filardi shouted loudly.

Judge Pedroia leaned his considerable bulk to his left. “Miss Smith, continue your explanation, but please avoid the use of the word ‘cowardly.' ”

“I will.” Angela faced Warrick again. “Another reason no DNA was found at my place was that I used bleach to scrub my stairway landing, which had his blood all over it.”

“No blood was ever found!” Filardi shouted.

“Because I cleaned it up,” Angela said. “I run a coffee shop in Williamsburg. I have to keep the place clean at all times or the health department will shut me down. Besides, I wasn't going to track his gutless, spineless blood up my stairs into my apartment.”

“Your honor!” Filardi shouted.

Judge Pedroia sighed. “Miss Smith, please avoid using language of an inflammatory nature.”

“I didn't think I did,” Angela said. “Blood doesn't have guts or a spine, so therefore, it's gutless and spineless.
Especially
his.”

“Your honor, I want her testimony stricken from the record,” Filardi said.

“You originally opened this can of worms by asking for her opinion, Mr. Filardi,” Judge Pedroia said. “Miss Smith, I warned you not to use inflammatory language.”

“I'm sorry, your honor,” Angela said. “I'm sure Mr. Warrick's blood is
extremely
courageous and
extremely
brave.”

“Your honor, I disapprove of her sarcasm,” Filardi said.

“You'd be sarcastic, too,” Angela said, “if you had a man pinning you into a corner and trying to put his microscopic penis inside you.”

And
this
is what is called an uproar! Yes! Oh, listen to the gallery! Even the jury is laughing!

Judge Pedroia banged his gavel. “Miss Smith, if you continue to use such language, I will hold you in contempt of court.”

“Then that
wasn't
his penis?” Angela asked. “I wonder what it was.” She looked at her pinkie.

The courtroom exploded in noise and laughter again, and Judge Pedroia had to bang his gavel repeatedly until the crowd quieted down.

“Miss Smith,” Judge Pedroia said. “You
will
be civil. This is your last warning.”

“Yes, your honor,” Angela said. “I'm sorry.”

“Mr. Filardi,” Judge Pedroia said, “please continue.”

Filardi approached the jury, his face significantly redder. “Let's get back to the evidence. Where is there
any
evidence that my client was even in your shop that night?”

“He called Matthew from the jail the day the crime tech team was there, and in that conversation he admitted being there,” Angela said.

Filardi smiled. “Yes, we've all heard that tape, and in that tape, my client insisted it was a date gone bad. Wasn't it a date, Miss Smith?”

“No,” Angela said. “It wasn't a date.”

Filardi walked across to Warrick. “You
didn't
have a date with my client?”

“No,” Angela said. “In fact, I had to remove two doors from my shop and replace them with steel security doors after what you and Mr. Warrick call a ‘date.' There's less light in my kitchen because of that. I like lots of light in my kitchen. I wish I could spend more time in the light. But my condition keeps me inside.”

“Ah, yes,” Filardi said. “I understand you haven't left your apartment in, how long has it been?”

“Until I met Matthew McConnell,” Angela said, “I hadn't left my apartment in four years, ever since that gutless, spineless attack during the blizzard.”

Filardi threw up his hands. “She did it again, your honor!”

“I called the
attack
gutless and spineless, Mr. Filardi,” Angela said. “I didn't refer in any way to your client.”

Filardi started to speak and stopped.

“You agree that the attack was gutless and spineless, don't you, Mr. Filardi?” Angela asked.

“I want those words stricken from the record,” Filardi said.

“You're the one calling attention to them,” Angela said.

“Your honor,” Filardi said.

Judge Pedroia hesitated. “Overruled. Please continue, Mr. Filardi.”

Filardi returned to his table and pulled out another legal pad. “Miss Smith, did you report this alleged incident?”

“No,” Angela said.

“Why didn't you report this alleged incident?” Filardi asked.

“I wasn't raped,” Angela said. “My attacker couldn't finish the job. He failed. He came up short. And there was a blizzard outside. No one could get to me anyway, not for a few days. The police had so many other worries that night.”

“But what about your alleged injuries?” Filardi asked. “Didn't you seek medical treatment?”

“No,” Angela said, “but they were only bruises that healed eventually. The bruise on my knee took about a week to heal. I got that one when I kneed Mr. Warrick in the face.”

Filardi's body shook. “Do you have any
proof
you did this?”

Angela pointed at Warrick. “Look at his nose. That has to be the most crooked nose I've ever seen.”

“The police found no blood of
any
kind where you said it would be, not even under the floorboards,” Filardi said quickly. “Where was all this alleged blood?”

“I cleaned it up,” Angela said, “but I already told you about that, and it really hurt to clean up because I had a nasty bruise on my heel.”

“I'm looking at a list of your alleged injuries, Miss Smith,” Filardi said. “Aren't these injuries consistent with a fall of some kind? Did you perhaps slip and fall down your stairs that evening? It was an awfully icy, snowy day, and you
were
wearing your father's boots, which were five sizes too big for you.”

“Outside later a couple of times, yes, I slipped and fell,” Angela said. “I slipped and fell trying to escape my attacker, but my injuries weren't consistent with a fall, Mr. Filardi. They were consistent with an
attempted
rape. Mr. Warrick had a little premature ejaculation, nothing to be ashamed of, happens to the best of men.”

“Your honor!” Filardi shouted.

“Miss Smith,” Judge Pedroia said, “I'm almost at the end of my patience.”

“I'm sorry,” Angela said.

“Proceed, Mr. Filardi,” Judge Pedroia said.

“Miss Smith, didn't you fail to report this attack because there
was
no attack?” Filardi asked.

“There was an attack,” Angela said.

“Didn't you fail to report this attack because you and the defendant had a
date
that evening,” Filardi said, “and you led him to believe the date would end with sexual intercourse, and when the time came, you changed your mind?”

“Well, if it was a date, and I'm
not
saying it was,” Angela said, “it ended very badly for Mr. Warrick.”

Filardi scowled. “You mean the broken nose you
allegedly
gave him.”

“No, it ended badly for Mr. Warrick,” Angela said, “because of the heel I kicked up into Mr. Warrick's balls.”

Judge Pedroia banged his gavel, and the tumult died down. “Miss Smith, I have been very patient—”

“I'm
so
sorry, your honor,” Angela interrupted. “I didn't know what else to call them. Should I have said scrotal sac? Testicles? Where I come from, they're balls, and either you have them . . .” She stared hard at Mr. Warrick. “Or . . . you . . .
don't.
”

Judge Pedroia shook his head. “Miss Smith, please respect the decorum of this courtroom.”

“I was just telling you how I injured my heel, that's all,” Angela said. “I feel bad about it. I hope your limp isn't too noticeable, Mr. Warrick. With a little surgery, you can be up and about in maybe a year.”

Warrick jumped out of his chair and shouted, “You
bitch!
”

“I'm sorry if I ruined you for life down there, I really am,” Angela said quickly. “Did you want to have children?”

Warrick leaped away from his chair and shuffled awkwardly toward Angela shouting, “You
bitch!
I
hate
you! You
bitch!
”

Two bailiffs intercepted Warrick before he could get within six feet of Angela, escorting him roughly back to his chair.

Angela turned to the jury. “He
does
limp, doesn't he?”

“Your honor!” Filardi screamed.

Judge Pedroia stood to bang his gavel this time. “Order, order in the court!”

Keep going, Angela!
Now,
when there's chaos everywhere!

“I am so sorry, Mr. Warrick,” Angela said. “I'm sorry I hurt you. I don't know if there are any words I can say to return your manhood to you, if you ever had any, that is.”

Judge Pedroia pointed at Angela with his gavel. “Miss Smith, that is
enough.
Mr. Filardi, anything further?”

Filardi shook his head. “No, your honor.”

O'Day jumped to his feet, his fat face one big smile. “Redirect, your honor?”

Judge Pedroia sat in a heap. “Keep it brief.”

“Miss Smith,” O'Day said, “please describe the last four years of your life for the jury.”

Angela looked at Matthew. “I have suffered.” She sighed. “I have suffered four years of self-lockdown, four years of guilt, four years of pain, self-hate, fear, nightmares, and grief. The attack changed my life for the worse. But you know what? It didn't ruin my life or even cut it short. I'm free now. I'm
free.
And after this moment, my attacker, Mr. Warrick, will be nothing to me.” She turned to stare down Warrick. “You . . . are . . .
nothing.
”

O'Day looked at Filardi for an objection.

The jury looked at Filardi for an objection.

Matthew looked at Filardi for an objection.

Judge Pedroia looked at Filardi for an objection.

Filardi kept his seat and his silence.

“Nothing further, your honor,” O'Day said.

“The witness may step down,” Judge Pedroia said.

Angela stood tall, left the witness stand, eased through the double half-doors, and sat next to Matthew, grabbing his hand.