Читать книгу Claim of Innocence - Laura Caldwell, Leslie S. Klinger - Страница 21

“F or most of us, best friends are safe havens. Best friends provide a place where we can let ourselves be who we really are, where we are supported, where we are loved.” Ellie Whelan paused, as if having a hard time with her words. “But this woman…” She turned and pointed at Valerie. “This woman is pure poison. For her friendship was merely a disposable relationship where she could shop for a new husband. And kill any obstacles. Any at all.”

Valerie sat on the other side of Maggie, but even from that distance I heard her whimper. Maggie put her hand on Valerie’s forearm for a brief second. I saw a couple of jurors notice the movement.

Ellie Whelan patrolled the courtroom, moving back and forth in front of the jury, often pointing at Valerie and combining the gesture with damning words. She told the jury that Valerie and Amanda were best friends, or at least Valerie let Amanda think that. She told them that they would hear all about the friendship from another best friend, Bridget. They would hear how Bridget and Amanda and Amanda’s husband, Zavy, had supported Valerie after her own husband, Brian, died years ago. They’d become her second family.

“Because for Bridget and Xavier, and especially for Amanda, friendship meant something,” Ellie said.

She gestured toward Tania, who strode forward with a few poster-size exhibits. Tania placed them on an easel and went back to their table.

“Friendship and family,” Ellie said. “That’s what was important to Amanda Miller.”

She turned the first exhibit to face the jury. “This was Amanda Miller.”

I stood and walked to a side wall, where I could see a photo of a lovely brunette with green eyes and a big smile.

“You will hear from Amanda’s husband about the importance of friendship to Amanda Miller. He will tell you how much she loved her two girls, Tessa and Britney.” Ellie put the first exhibit on the floor, revealing a blown-up photo of Amanda and two toothy, gorgeous girls. “Xavier will tell you how the girls are now motherless. He will tell you they are having a very, very hard time of it. And all because of…” She didn’t have to say her name this time; she just turned and pointed toward Valerie.

From my vantage point at the wall, I could see the jury from the side. I was standing not just to see the photos, but also to try and determine the jury’s reaction to the state’s opening. For now, they were calm and attentive. But if I was looking for a reaction, I was about to get it.

“Here,” Ellie said, beginning to slowly remove the photo of Amanda’s kids, “is Amanda Miller on the day she died.”

As the next blown-up photo was revealed, the jury gasped.

I couldn’t help it—I winced. Maggie shot me a dirty look from across the courtroom, and I composed my face.

The photo was a “death shot.” Amanda, naked on a stainless-steel counter, a sheet draped across her lower half, her skin white as pearl, her mouth open, rigor mortis making her neck look stretched and rigid, like she was screaming into eternity.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from the photo. Out of my peripheral vision, I could tell that the jurors couldn’t, either. That poor woman, I heard one say. Horrible, murmured another.

“Quiet, please,” the judge said.

I glanced at Valerie. Had she killed Amanda? Had she done that to her friend? And if she had, constitutional rights or no, what was I doing representing her?

The courtroom felt chilly suddenly, as if sinister air had entered through a back door and wound its way through the place.

“You will hear from the coroner who examined Amanda’s body after her death, and you will hear how he came to the diagnosis of death by poisoning.” Ellie took a step away from the photo, letting the image of the dead woman speak volumes to the jury. “From Bridget, you will hear that just weeks before Amanda’s death, Valerie asked her about poisons, which Bridget had researched as part of a novel she was writing. And you will hear Xavier Miller tell you about the day…” A heavy pause. “About the day he came home from work and saw Valerie put something crushed, something blue, into the food she was cooking. She said it was an herb. It was not. It was a drug that, given at high doses, acted as a poison, and that poison would kill Amanda Miller before the day was done.”

Another pause to let all the information settle.

“Why would Valerie want to kill her ‘best friend’?” Ellie asked the jury. “I’ll tell you why. Because she was husband hunting.”

There seemed to be no more exhibits forthcoming, so I went and took my seat again next to Maggie.

Ellie continued. Brian, she told the jury, was Valerie’s husband, although not the father of her daughter. He had died of Lou Gehrig’s disease. He was only forty-eight at the time, Ellie said, which was strange because the disease didn’t usually exhibit itself until people were over fifty.

I looked at Maggie. “Objection,” I whispered. I saw Valerie’s pained face on the other side of her. I dropped my voice even further. “Are they trying to imply she killed her husband?”

Maggie frowned at Ellie. “We already dealt with this in motions before the case started,” she said under her breath. “If she says one more word…”

But sure enough, Ellie moved on, just short of drawing an objection. She told the jury how Amanda and Xavier had helped Valerie care for Brian. She told them that Valerie had fallen for Xavier during that time and shortly after had tried to seduce him.

A number of the jurors furrowed their brows and openly appraised Valerie.

I glanced at her. She seemed to nearly tremble in her black dress, but she didn’t blink, didn’t flinch.

Ellie Whelan was nearing the close of her argument. “At the end of this trial,” Ellie said, “I will have an opportunity to get in front of you again, and at that time, I will ask you to do the only thing that justice will allow. Find Valerie Solara—” again she pointed at our client “—guilty of first-degree murder.”

Maggie popped up from her seat even before Ellie had found hers. She waited for a minute, then when Ellie was in her chair, looked at the judge. “Your Honor, I’d request that the state remove their exhibits.”

“Granted.” The judge nodded at Ellie Whelan. “Counsel?”

I saw Maggie cover a small smile. Ellie had tried to leave the autopsy photo in front of the jury, a good move, but Maggie had countered it, not just taking it down, which she could have done, but getting the judge to make the state do it after Ellie had taken a seat.

Ellie shot an annoyed look at Tania Castle, who jumped to her feet and removed the photos.

Maggie introduced herself quickly to the jurors, then said, “Boy, that was a good story, wasn’t it?” She nodded. “Kind of like watching a soap opera, am I right? All that stuff about coveting someone else’s husband, about poisoning someone? That’s really interesting, huh?” She nodded as if to concede the point. “But that’s all that was—a really interesting story. A story concocted by the state in order to lay blame for the tragic death of Amanda Miller. But this woman—” she moved behind Valerie and placed a hand on her shoulder “—is not to blame.”

She took her hand off Valerie’s shoulder and went to a podium, placing her notes on it and crossing her arms. “And do you know what? The state can’t just spin a good story. They have to prove that Valerie Solara was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.” She intoned again, “Beyond a reasonable doubt.”

Maggie looked at the state’s table for an uncomfortable, quiet second, then back at the jury. “But how are they going to do that? They told you you’d hear from Mr. Miller about some…what did they call it? A seduction. They told you you’d hear from other witnesses. But isn’t it interesting that they are accusing Valerie Solara of planting poison in her friend’s food…and yet they didn’t tell you that you would hear any evidence of Ms. Solara buying the medication. You know why?”

The jury waited for the answer.

“Because there isn’t any evidence of her acquiring it. None. They couldn’t find any link between Valerie and the drug that killed Mrs. Miller. That’s interesting, don’t you think?” She huffed out loud, as if expelling disbelief.

“And they want to talk about friendship? Well, let’s talk about it.” She put a blown-up photo of three women on the easel.

“These women met fifteen years ago at a gym here in the city. Amanda Miller was newly married to her first husband. Valerie was a single mom. Her daughter, Layla, who is nineteen now, was just four. And Bridget was a surgical nurse. Usually, Amanda was busy with charitable events, Valerie was busy being a mom and Bridget was always working. Usually, they wouldn’t have had time to make new friends. But on that one day, they all had time for one reason or another. After they met at a gym, they went to a restaurant nearby to talk. It was a Tuesday. And for nearly every other Tuesday after that, up until the time Amanda Miller died, these women met to share their lives. They were immediate friends. They were like sisters. There was no one who supported Amanda more than Valerie and Bridget and vice versa. That continued to the day she died.

“You will hear from witness after witness who will tell you how close these women were. You will hear Amanda’s husband, Xavier, tell you that himself. He will tell you that he never would have suspected Valerie Solara of wanting to kill her friend. Her best friend. Their other best friend Bridget will tell you the same thing. They will all tell you that Valerie wasn’t like that. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t violent, she couldn’t hurt anyone. You will hear this over and over. Because it’s true.”

Maggie picked up her notes and reviewed them. She explained that Valerie Solara didn’t have to put on any evidence herself. She didn’t have to prove anything at all.

Maggie stopped, dead center of the jury. “A woman died. By all accounts, a lovely woman, a good mom. When someone like that dies, we all want someone to pay for it. But the right person must pay for it. We cannot allow them—” she turned and pointed at the state’s attorneys “—to rush to judgment and pile up inconsequential tidbits to make it appear they have the person who committed this when they do not. That’s not how the American criminal justice system works. You are the upholders of that system. Your job is large. Your responsibility is massive.” She looked up and down the row of jurors. “Do it,” she said. “Do your job.”