Capital Offense

“Helped who?” Jack managed, but the line was dead.

PARTI. THE EARLY YEARS 1989-1994

ONE

September, 1989 – Jefferson City, Missouri

Judge Margaret Merrit entered the crowded courtroom at precisely 9:00 A.M. and took her seat at the bench. Murmurs of conversation escalated in the packed room, but the sound of her gavel silenced the crowd. The bailiff swung the door wide, allowing the jurors to file into the room. They sat in the same chairs they had been occupying for more than six weeks.

United States Senator Warner Hamilton Lane of Missouri tried unobtrusively to take an aisle seat at the back of the courtroom. Heads turned and whispers eddied around him. The crack of Judge Merrit’s gavel echoed off the walls as her gaze held Warner’s. “I won’t tolerate disruption in my courtroom.”

Warner nodded. A rosy flush heated his neck and cheeks. He angled his body for a better view of his wife. Carolyn, seated at the prosecution table. Honey-colored hair crested her shoulders. She sat on the edge of her chair, muscles taught, reflexes honed, like a runner waiting for the bark of the starter’s gun. It was a race she intended to win – at all costs.

God, he missed her. Juggling two careers took its toll, especially with hers in Missouri and his predominantly in Washington, D.C. He’d flown in that morning, and now he could only watch her from a distance. Lately, it seemed that distance defined their relationship.

Carolyn rose to address the jury. Her once-shapely figure was lost in the cream Chanel suit that hung on her frame. He knew she lost weight with every case she tried, but this time the change was drastic. It worried him.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” Warner leaned forward as Carolyn began her closing argument. Though their phone conversations, he knew she’d agonized over her summation.

“Today your work begins. Today the attorneys will have their last words, and then the case is yours. Today you become the arbiters of justice…”

Warner watched the faces of the jury. Each set of eyes locked on Carolyn as she paced and gestured.

“… Will justice be served? That’s a question only you can answer. I believe it will, because I have faith that after each of you carefully considers the facts, you will find beyond any measure of doubt, that Albeit Roit is guilty on all counts.” She turned to glare at the defendant. The jury glared with her.

“As we review this case. I only ask one thing. Always keep in the forefront of your minds the thought of one person, Jessica Barnes. She is who this case is about. The defense would like you to believe that it is about Albeit Roit. It’s not. It’s about a young girl whose difficult life has been shattered.”

Warner knew that Carolyn understood the cost of a destroyed childhood and stolen innocence. At the age of six. Carolyn had lost her mother, the only family she’d ever known, to a drunk driver. Wrenched from a loving environment. Carolyn found herself a number in the social service system. As a foster child, she suffered sexual abuse and battery from her male caretaker. Warner knew that these intensely private scars drove her to become one of the top prosecutors in the state. She treated every case as if she were prosecuting the man who’d gotten away with abusing her. She never revealed her source of strength, too proud to see pity on the faces of her colleagues.

Carolyn reviewed the diagrams that detailed the sexual abuse inflicted on the child. Fury resonated in her voice as she repeated the words of the psychologist treating the thirteen-year-old girl. One juror wiped tears from her cheeks. Another sniffed loudly. A third dabbed at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief.

Warner looked around the gallery. Not a whisper could be heard; all eyes were fixed on Carolyn as she fought for Jessica Barnes. To Carolyn this case wasn’t just about one foster child, it was about a horribly flawed system that victimized many children. Children that Carolyn felt a responsibility to save.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the defendant. Albeit Roit. became a foster parent, not because of his concern for children, not to give love and support to those who desperately need it. He wanted the money to buy drugs. He wanted the government subsidy for the care of each foster child to maintain his drug habit. Albeit Roit did not stop at taking money from Jessica. No. he also stole her childhood – and her innocence.” Again Carolyn glared at the defendant, her mouth a tight line. “Albeit Roit took everything materially possible from Jessica Barnes, and when that wasn’t enough, he raped and brutalized her. In his final act. he tried to take the only thing she had left. Her life.”

Albeit Roit stared back at Carolyn and licked his crusted lips. She recognized that vile leer. The door on her own private hell cracked open, releasing the demons of her childhood.