Trying the Teacher
by Varkel
February, 2006
Note: This version differs from the Usenet version, published in ASSM and archived at http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2006/53194, -53196 (three files),
emended to remove the prosecutor’s improper comment on the defendant’s refusal to testify.
Part 1
Pounding the gavel, his honor Avery T. Harrington, judge of superior court, ordered loudly, “The court will come to order.”
The rustling subsided among the two dozen curious in the spectator’s gallery. When the medium-sized courtroom was silent, the sharp-nosed judge’s voice continued resonantly. “The defendant being present, along with the prosecution and defense attorneys, and the jury having been seated, we shall now begin the trial of …” He glanced down at a paper before him. “Of Harriet M. Frew versus the people of this state on the following charges: Statutory rape of a minor beneath the age of consent: five counts; Having sexual relations with a subordinate ward: five counts; Supplying an alcoholic beverage to a minor: two counts; and one count of Moral turpitude in a government employee. These are serious charges that may incur severe penalties. Mr. Prosecutor, you may present your opening statement.”
At the table on the judge’s left and thus closer to the jury box, J. Everet Peele of the District Attorney’s office, wearing a checkered sport coat, rose to his feet. “Thank you, your honor,” he said in his high voice, clearing his throat and turning his florid face to the jury. “I’ll be brief. The defendant in this action was employed at Graham High School, where she taught social studies to students in the ninth and tenth grades. One of her students was Jason Higgins Bartry, now a lad of 16 years. On the night of April 8 last year, a Friday, she did induce Jason Higgins Bartry, then age 15, in the tenth grade in her third period class, to enter her automobile and to park with her in a wooded area south of town known generally as ‘Lover’s Hill.’ There she, being 28 years old at the time, did induce this lad, a 15 year-old below the age of consent, to have sexual relations with her twice. On the following night, a Saturday, she rented Room 27 in the Marris Inn on Route 55. There she did induce young Jason to have sex with her three times while giving him the alcoholic drink known as tequila.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we will prove these allegations by testimony and by physical evidence. As the judge said, these are serious charges. They deserve your careful attention and your vote of guilty when you have heard the arguments. Thank you all.”
He bowed slightly to the jury and resumed his seat with a pleased expression. His female assistant smiled at him.
The judge declared, “The defense may make its opening statement.”
Peter F. Davis was a gray haired man of middle stature going to fat in a wrinkled blue suit. He sprang to his feet and smiled at the jury. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll try to be even briefer than the prosecutor. In regard to his offers of proof, I’m reminded of the old forensic question, ‘Who would you rather believe, a dozen witnesses swearing no dog has been by, or a dog’s footprints in the dust?’”
A woman in the jury giggled, leading to laughter in the courtroom. The judge raised his gavel but withheld it when the humor died. Davis smiled and continued, “Well, in this case I’m afraid the prosecutor has practically nothing in the way of footprints. Keep an open mind, ladies and gentlemen, and remember that these are criminal charges. To find the defendant guilty, you must believe it beyond a reasonable doubt. I think I can show you lots of reasonable doubt. Thank you for your attention.”
He resumed his seat and glanced at his client. She was an attractive brunette with long hair rolled into a bun behind her head, wearing a simple gray dress with cream ruffles at the neck, flesh-colored hose and black flats. She sat behind her table, looking straight ahead without expression, hands crossed in her lap. He leaned close to her and whispered, “Remember: smile at the jury once in a while.”
Above her the judge said to the prosecutor, “Mr. Peele, call your first witness.”
“The state calls William G. Blaylock.”
A uniformed bailiff opened the door to the witness room, stuck in his head and emerged shortly followed by a heavy-set man who took his seat on the witness stand. The bailiff administered the oath and directed, “State your name.”
“William Blaylock.”
The prosecutor approached. “What’s your occupation, Mr. Blaylock?”
The man, wearing a neatly pressed suit, answered, “I’m a guidance counselor at Graham High School.”
“What are the duties of a guidance counselor?”
“To advise students in their academic progress.”
“Is Jason Higgins Bartry one of students you advise?”
“Yes, sir, he is.”
“And do you recall a session with him last year during the first week of May?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Tell us about that session.”
“Well, he came into my office during Fifth Period and —”
“By ‘he’ you mean Jason Higgins Bartry?”
“Yes, I do. He asked to see me about a personal matter. I had him close the door, told him to sit down and go ahead. He told me that Mrs. Frew —”
“The defendant?”
“Yes, sir, the defendant — that Harriet Frew had seduced him sexually and he felt like killing himself because of it.”
“Like killing himself?”
“Objection!” called the defense counsel loudly. “Hearsay!”
“Overruled,” said the judge, “though this is not the best evidence, Mr. Peele.”
“I know, your honor, but it shows the victim’s seriousness. So what did you do, Mr. Blaylock?”
“Well, a teacher seducing a student is just about the worst thing —”
The prosecutor held up his hand. “What did you do, sir?”
“Of course I immediately called the sheriff.”
“Thank you. That’s all.”
Peele sat down and Davis, the defense counsel, rose to stand before the witness. “Mr. Blaylock, what was the date of that session with Mr. Bartry?”
“Wednesday, May 4.”
Davis smiled. “You’re very glib with that figure after nearly a year. Did the prosecutor refresh your memory?”
“Not the prosecutor — his assistant, Miss Marquette.”
“Thank you. And did Mr. Bartry tell you the dates when his seduction allegedly occurred?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Did he explain why he waited nearly a month to report it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What was his explanation?”
“He said he was becoming increasingly distraught about it.”
“‘Distraught?’”
“Yes. He knew it was wrong to have sex outside marriage. His mother had told him to keep himself pure until he fell in love. He didn’t love Mrs. Frew, but he had to see her three days a week in ELPS. Oh, and also he was sorry for the harm he had done to Mrs. Frew’s husband.”
“‘ELPS?’”
“Ms. Frew teaches Economic, Legal and Political Systems, what some people call ‘social science.’”
“And for those reasons he was considering suicide?”
“Well, he said he felt like killing himself.”
“Did he seem distraught or confused, Mr. Blaylock?”
“Well, no. He was very quiet and spoke in a low voice.”
“Did he meet your eye?”
“Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes. But you believed him implicitly.”
“He had accused a teacher of, well, of betraying her trust in the most awful way. I believed that it ought to be investigated.”
Davis nodded and studied his note pad for a moment. “Now then, Mr. Blaylock, to your knowledge is Mr. Bartry an athlete?”
“Yes. Well, I know he is highly regarded by the football and soccer coach.”
“He represents the school in team play?”
“Yes. He’s on the junior varsity this year.”
“I see. As a guidance counselor, you must necessarily be familiar with all the rules and regulations pertaining to students. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is the academic requirement for school athletes?”
“To play they must maintain a C average or better in all subjects.”
Davis retrieved a paper from the stack on his table. He said to the judge, “Your honor, this is a copy of Jason Bartry’s report card from last year. I’d like to submit it as Defense Exhibit One.”
“Mr. Peele?” the judge inquired.
“No objection.”
“The document will be admitted,” said the judge. “Proceed, Mr. Davis.”
The plump lawyer in his rumpled suit passed the card to the witness. “Here, Mr. Blaylock, in case the prosecutor’s charming assistant failed to refresh your memory. Would you please state out loud Mr. Bartry’s grades for last year?”
The witness hardly glanced down before declaring, “C.”
“In all subjects?”
“Well, C-minus in three. Except for ELPS.”
“What was his grade in ELPS?”
“Incomplete.”
“‘Incomplete,’” Davis repeated. “Why is it marked ‘Incomplete?’”
“Well, it’s obvious.”
“Tell us why, Mr Blaylock.”
“Under the circumstances who would believe Ms. Frew’s grading could be objective and fair?”
“Ms. Frew was removed as a teacher before the end of the year, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And a substitute teacher provided?”
“I believe so.”
“Did the substitute submit grades for all the other ELPS students?”
“Yes, I’m sure she did.”
“Then why couldn’t the substitute decide Mr. Bartry’s grade?”
The witness’s lips twisted.
“Objection, your honor,” called the prosecutor. “This is getting far afield.”
The judge said, “Mr. Davis, do you have some objective in mind for this line of questioning?”
“I do, your honor, but I think the facts, when presented, will speak for themselves. I withdraw the question.”
Davis took a step toward his table but halted and turned back. “Mr. Blaylock, are you married?”
“Uh, no, sir, I am not.”
“Did you ever ask Ms. Frew for a date?”
“A date? Of course not! She’s a married woman.”
“But did you ask her as a fellow chaperone to ride with you to the senior prom in March of last year?”
“Objection!” called the prosecutor. “Relevance.”
“Overruled,” said the judge.
Without further prompting the witness said, “I may have … Yes, I believe I did.”
“Did she accept?”
“Um, yes, she did.”
“And did she ride with you to the gym?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alone with you?”
“Yes.”
“But tell us this: with whom did she return home, Mr. Blaylock, after the prom was over?”
The witness bit his lip and looked beseechingly at the prosecutor, who rose to his feet, shaking his head. “Objection, your honor: irrelevant and immaterial. How long must we endure defense’s fishing expedition?”
The judge said, “Where are you going this time, Mr. Davis?”
“Your honor, I believe the answer may shed light on the witness’s bias toward the defendant.”
The judge thought a moment. “Overruled.”
Davis said, “Answer the question. Who took her home?”
Blaylock drew a deep breath, hesitated and finally said, “Her husband.”
“Thank you. That’s all.” Davis whirled around, returned to his table, plopped into the chair and whispered to the defendant, “Well, I got it in.”
“But you didn’t ask him why,” she whispered back, leaning close.
“If I’d gone too far they might’ve thrown out the whole line of questioning.”
The prosecutor and his assistant were also exchanging whispers. The judge called, “Any recross, Mr. Peele?”
A moment later Peele answered, “No, your honor. I call Deputy Trallis to the stand.”
A man in a county uniform with Sam Brown belt and pistol took the stand and was sworn. He stated his name as Harlan Trallis.
The prosecutor approached, holding his notepad ready. “You’re a deputy sheriff for Graham County?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you have occasion to speak with Jason Bartry and his parents in May of last year?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What was the purpose of that conversation?”
“To satisfy myself that a crime had been committed and to gather evidence against the defendant.”
“Did you interrogate young Mr. Bartry?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I won’t ask you the details of that conversation. Just tell us the main points.”
The defense lawyer, spoke up. “Objection, your honor: hearsay!”
Peele looked up at the judge. “I intend to call young Jason, your honor, and the defense can cross-examine both him and the deputy about his interrogation.”
“It’s still hearsay,” said the judge thoughtfully.
“It lays the groundwork for what follows now.”
The judge shook his head. “Let’s hear what follows then I’ll rule. Ask another question.”
“Very well, your honor,” Peele said with a grimace. “Deputy Trallis, after interrogating young Bartry, did you obtain any physical evidence from his home?”
“Yes, sir, from his computer.”
“What was that?”
“Email from the defendant to Jason Bartry.”
Peele took up some stapled papers from his desk. “Your honor, I would like to submit these five printouts as People’s Exhibits One through Five.”
Davis stood up at the defendant’s table.
The judge glanced at him. “Yes, Mr. Davis?”
“I object to these documents as having no probative value.”
The judge’s eyebrows rose. “Let me see them, Mr. Peele.”
The prosecutor handed them up. The judge thumbed through them. After a bit he looked up at the prosecutor and shook his head. “Don’t you recognize this stuff, Mr. Peele?”
“Recognize, your honor?”
The judge read from the top sheet. “It says, ‘Think about this one, Jase. But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, / Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel, / Making a famine where abundance lies, / Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel: / Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament, / And only herald to the gaudy spring, / Within thine own bud buriest thy content …’”
The judge’s voice rolled sonorously through the courtroom. “That is a Shakespearean sonnet, or part of one, if I’m not mistaken.” He glanced at the bottom of the page. “It ends, ‘We’ll talk about it on Friday,’ and is signed ‘Harriet Frew.’ Hmm…” He thumbed through the others again. “Aha, perhaps more to the point! ‘If I caress a young child, / Immediately I think: farewell! / I will yield my place to you, / For I must fade while your flower blooms.’ And she gives due credit to an A. Pushkin. Your objection is overruled, Mr. Davis. These pages will be admitted.”
When the clerk had stamped them, the judge said, “Continue your examination, Mr. Peele.”
“What did you do next, Deputy Trallis?”
“I, ah … I had learned that Mrs. Frew rented a motel room for them on, ah, April 9, so I went to the Marris Inn to verify that.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
Peele looked up to the judge. “Your honor, the defense has stipulated to that motel room rental on April 9.”
The judge’s eyebrows rose. He asked incredulously, “For the woman and the boy?”
“Not at all, your honor,” declared the defense lawyer, rising to his feet. “We stipulate only that Mrs. Frew did appear before the Marris clerk and rent Room 27 on the night of April 9, last year, and paid with her credit card.”
“Very well; so stipulated. The jury will note that her rental of the motel room is not in controversy; you must take it as fact. Proceed, Mr. Peele.”
“After leaving the motel what did you do next?”
“I went to the defendant’s home, arrested her while she was at dinner with her husband, impounded her automobile and executed a search warrant.”
“Searching for what?”
“Any correspondence with the victim.”
“Did you find any?”
“No.”
“Did you impound her computer?”
“Yes, sir. Its hard drive had crashed, according to our experts.”
“Conveniently so?”
“Objection!” declared Davis.
“Sustained,” said the judge.
“That’s all my direct examination,” said Peele.
“Very well,” the judge responded. “I now sustain defense’s objection to the conversation between this witness and Jason Bartry. You have better evidence.”
“Very well, your honor.” Peele took his seat.
“Mr. Davis, you may cross-examine.”
“Thank you, your honor.” Coming forward, the defense attorney paused and studied the deputy. “How did you obtain these emails, now marked as People’s Exhibit One through Five?”
“Jason Bartry gave them to me.”
“They were already printed out?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Did you impound his computer?”
“No. He offered it freely.”
“And did you take it for your experts to examine it?”
“Well … no. I asked Jason if he had any more communications with Ms. Frew and he said this was all he had.”
“But all those emails are from — or purport to be from — Ms. Frew. Did you find any replies to them?”
“No.”
“Any communication at all from Mr. Bartry to Ms. Frew?”
“No.”
“Did you look?”
“Ah … no.”
“Are you aware, deputy, how easily copies of email can be altered while they reside on the recipient’s hard drive?”
“They can? I mean, no, I’m not.”
“As the jury will see, those printouts contain only main headers: the From, To, Subject and Date lines. Many additional headers are always sent with Internet email, including the delivery path and a line count.” He looked up at the judge. “Your honor, could you order the full email files be produced in court?”
“What about that, Deputy Trallis?” asked the judge. “Are they available?”
“I don’t know, your honor.”
The judge grimaced. “Well, it’s been almost a year, but as soon as you leave the stand, fetch Mr. Bartry’s computer into court.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Proceed, Mr. Davis.”
“You said you impounded the defendant’s car. What make and model is it?”
“Ah, a 1999 Ford Taurus four-door.”
“What did you find in it?”
“Nothing probative.”
“Did you find the alleged victim’s fingerprints?”
“No. Of course it was a month later and she uses the car a lot.”
“Oh? Do you have any evidence that she often gives rides to passengers?”
“Objection!” declared Peele. “Relevance.”
“Overruled,” responded the judge. “Answer the question, deputy.”
“I have no evidence for that either way.”
Davis continued, “Whose fingerprints did you find on the passenger door handle, the passenger window and the window sill?”
“Her husband’s.”
“I believe the car has leather seats, doesn’t it? Does leather take fingerprints?”
“Yes, but they tend to fade after a while.”
“Would they last a month?”
“Maybe.”
“Whose fingerprints did you find on the back seat?”
“Hers and her husband’s.”
“No one else’s?”
“Well, there were some we couldn’t identify.”
“I understand. Thank you, Deputy Trallis. That’s all.”
“You may step down,” said the judge. “Call your next witness, Mr. Peele.”
The prosecutor stood up and declared loudly, “I call Jason Higgins Bartry.”
The bailiff soon returned from the witness room, leading a young man to the stand. A few muffled exclamations arose from feminine spectators. The judge regarded them curiously then studied the lad. He was tall as the medium-height bailiff, with shoulders as wide but a narrower waist. He had blond hair cut neatly above his shoulders in Dutch-boy style, and a prettily youthful, beardless face. He wore a dark blue suit, white shirt, pale blue tie and plain shoes of polished black.
When the witness had taken the stand and the oath, and stated his name, the prosecutor said, “Mr. Bartry, ah, Jason — may I call you Jason? — I know this is somewhat of an ordeal for you, but we need your testimony about the defendant’s behavior. First a few preliminary questions. You are a student, is that right?”
The lad swallowed and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”
“As a student, did you have occasion to know the defendant, Mrs. Harriet Frew?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did you know her — that is, I mean how as a student?”
“She, she was the ELPS teacher.” The lad’s voice was clear, in the tonal range of a baritone, not the voice of a child.
“How long had she been teaching you ELPS?”
“In the ninth and tenth grade.”
“Last year you were in the tenth grade?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you have any form of contact with her besides student and teacher before April 8 of last year?”
“No, sir. Well, the email.”
“Yes, the email.” Peele retrieved the stapled printouts from the clerk and passed them to the lad. “Read us the dates on them.”
When the lad had done so, Peele said, “Four of them in March and the last on April 4. What return address is on all five?”
Bartry read, “HarrietFrew-at-Outpass-dot-Net.”
“Jason, how would you summarize the contents of these emails? What are they about?”
Without hesitation the lad answered, “How to express love.”
“Are those your words, Jason?”
“No, sir. They are Ms. Frew’s words.”
“What were the circumstances in which she stated them?”
Bartry shifted in his seat. “It was right after class on the day … the day we …”
“Do you mean on Friday, April 8?”
“Yeah, it was Friday.”
“What happened right after class?”
“She said I should learn how to express love like those poems did.”
“What else did she say?”
“That maybe I could express it if I knew more about it.”
“What else?”
Bartry’s voice grew weaker. “She offered to show me.”
“To show you!” exclaimed Peele, compensating for the lad’s lower volume. “In what way?”
“Taking me up Lover’s Hill with her.”
“Did she say when?”
“That night, soon as it got dark.”
“Did you agree to go?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why was that, Jason?”
“Well …” Bartry rolled his eyes, flicking a glance at the defendant. “She’s a fox!”
A murmur passed through the courtroom. As it subsided the prosecutor turned to the judge. “Your honor, I move for the defendant to rise and face the jury.”
“For what purpose?” asked the judge.
“So the jury can form its own opinion of Jason’s claim.”
“Objection!” called Davis, the defense attorney. “The jury can see her clearly as she sits.”
The judge nodded. “I agree. Motion denied, Mr. Peele. This is not a fashion runway. Ask your next question.”
“Thank you, your honor. Jason, did you go with her that night, Friday, April 8?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did you go?”
“She picked me up at the corner in her car.”
“Was she alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did she take you?”
“To Lover’s Hill.”
“Now, Jason, I want you to tell the jury in your own words what happened there on Lover’s Hill. What was said? What did she do? What did you do?”
“I only did what she said.”
“Okay. Start with that. What did she say?”
“Something about experience being the best teacher. Then she folded the console back and leaned over and hooked up with me.”
“‘Hooked up?’ What does that mean?”
“She, uh …” The lad glanced at the judge then at the jury. “She sucked on me.”
“She fellated you?”
“Yeah. That’s the word.”
“Completely?”
“Till I came, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s what I mean. Then what happened.”
“She wanted me to hook up with her.”
“And did you?”
“Yeah. We got in the backseat and I licked her the way she told me to.”
“Meaning that you performed cunnilingus?”
“Cunni — Yeah, I guess.”
“What happened next?”
“She said a back seat is not the best place to experience love, that she would take me to a motel the next night.”
“Did you engage in regular sex at all?”
“Not that night.”
“All right, Jason. What happened between you and the defendant on the following night, Saturday, April 9?”
“She took me to a motel.”
“Which one?”
“The Marris.”
“The Marris Inn?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened in the motel?”
“We, uh, we went to a room. She made us drinks with tequila and Sprite. We got …” The lad’s voice became inaudible and his eyes were cast down.
“Bailiff,” ordered the judge, “position the witness’s microphone and be sure it operates.”
The man in uniform came forward, adjusted a microphone on a long rod close to the lad’s lips and tapped it with his finger. A corresponding thud sounded.
Peele said, “You testified the defendant made you drinks with tequila and Sprite. That is, she made one for you and one for herself. Is that right?”
The witness’s baritone echoed in the courtroom. “Yes, sir.”
“Please continue. What happened next?”
Now the lad spoke distinctly. “We got naked on the bed. She sucked me again. I licked her. She made us another drink and talked about … what doing it meant. Then we did it the regular way.”
“What else did you talk about?”
“I go, ‘How can you do this to your husband?’”
“What was her answer?”
“That he liked to hear about it afterwards.”
“What did you understand that to mean?”
“When she did it with boys from school, she had to tell him all about it when she got home.”
“Did she name any other boy?”
“No, sir.”
“Did she say how many other boys?”
“Objection!” shouted Davis. “Leading.”
“Overruled,” responded the judge.
Peele asked again, “How many other boys, Jason?”
“She said three or four.”
The prosecutor glanced at the jury, whose members were listening avidly.
“So let’s see: you had two drinks of tequila and sex three times. Is that right?”
“Uh … sex twice.”
“Twice?” Peele’s eyebrows rose. Didn’t you just testify to fellatio, cunnilingus and regular sex?”
“Oh. You count cunni … cunnilingus too?”
“The law does.”
“Then it was three times.”
“Yes, it was.” Peele consulted his notepad. “Now then, the defendant rented the motel room on Saturday, April 9, last year. Tell us, please, why you did not report it until Wednesday, May 4?”
“I … didn’t really want to get Ms. Frew in trouble.”
“Indeed! If you felt that way, why did you report it at all?”
“Because I … felt guilty.”
“Of what?”
“Of disobeying my mother. She always said I should stay pure until I got married.”
“Did anything in particular cause you to feel guilty?”
“Yes. Seeing Ms. Frew in every ELPS class. Also I felt bad because of helping her cheat her husband.”
“Thank you, Jason, for your forthright and honest answers.” Peele bowed slightly toward the defense table. “Your witness.”
Davis rose, approached the witness and stood a moment, regarding him intently. The lad dropped his eyes.
“I remind you, Jason,” said Davis, “that you have taken an oath to tell only the truth and all of it. Let’s hear the rest of your story. When did you leave the motel?”
“I … don’t know.”
“Wasn’t there a clock in the room?”
“Um. Maybe. I didn’t notice.”
“Where did you go after you left?”
“Home. She took me straight home.”
“I noticed that the prosecutor carefully avoided mentioning any times of day during your recital. What time do you think it was when you got home?”
“Objection, your honor!” called Peele. “The witness has already stated he didn’t notice the time.”
The judge shook his head. “The question is what time did he think it was. Overruled. Answer the question, young man.”
“It was … late,” said the lad, eyes lowered.
“After midnight?”
“I guess.”
“Quite a bit after midnight?”
“I guess so.”
“You were fifteen years-old. Did you often stay out so late?”
“Not often.” The lad’s voice was low but still distinct through the amplifier.
“You live with your parents, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do they go to bed at a regular time?”
“Yeah, about eleven.”
“And lock up the house?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you get back in on the night you say you went to the motel?”
“Through the backdoor.”
“But you left home right after dark, didn’t you?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Before your parents went to bed?”
“Yeah.”
“But when you got back home, well after eleven, you strolled right through the backdoor?”
“Dad must’ve left it unlocked.”
Davis said sarcastically, “I guess he must have! Did you go straight to bed?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you feel?”
“Okay.”
“And you went right to sleep?”
“I guess.”
“Was this your first real experience with a female?”
“Yeah. Well, except the night before.”
“So quickly cloyed!” Continuing without a pause, Davis demanded, “Had you drunk tequila before?”
“Huh? Ye— I mean, no.”
“Which is it, yes or no?”
“Ye-yes. Harv gave us a drink from his dad’s bar.”
“What other kinds of liquor had you drunk?”
“N-none. Only tequila.”
“How did you drink the tequila in the motel room?”
“Ah, ah, Ms. Frew had a couple glasses in her purse.”
“Did she indeed! Did you chase it with Sprite or did she mix the Sprite and liquor in the glass?”
The lad blinked in hesitation.
“Come, come, Mr. Bartry. Tell us how you drank it.”
“Objection, your honor,” called the prosecutor. “What difference does it make?”
“Overruled.”
Davis asked, “Was it mixed, Jason?”
“Uh, yeah. Mixed.”
“Was the Sprite cold?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Where did the Sprite come from?”
“I, I don’t know.”
“From her purse, along with the drink glasses?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice.”
“How large a purse did she have?”
“Big, I guess.”
“You guess! Tell us about the motel room, Jason. What was the number?”
“Um. I didn’t notice.”
“What color were the inside walls?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Did you notice any furniture in the room?”
“Uh. Well, the bed.”
“What kind of headboard did it have?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“How big was the TV?”
“I didn’t notice?”
“Was it ever turned on?”
“N-no.”
“In recent years many hotels have changed their key systems. What kind of key opened the door of this room?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Apparently you were in that room several hours. Did you go to the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
“What color were the sink and toilet?”
“Um. I didn’t notice.”
“How about the tub and shower curtain?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“How many times have you been inside a motel room, Jason?”
“Just that one.”
“Ever go with your parents?”
“Not that I remember.”
“This is all very interesting. Who advised you to say ‘I didn’t notice’?”
“Ms. Marquette.”
“Who is that?”
The lad tilted his head toward the prosecutor’s table. “She’s sitting right there.”
“The prosecutor’s assistant advised you to say ‘I didn’t notice’?”
“If I didn’t know the answer but should have.”
“What’s the real reason you don’t know the answers?”
The lad shifted in his seat. “I didn’t notice.”
Davis chuckled. “Very good!” His expression changed. “All right, Jason, tell us what you were studying in Ms. Frew’s ELPS classes — or didn’t you notice?”
Laughter sounded in the courtroom. The judge frowned and it died away.
“Mainly history,” the lad answered.
“History of what?”
“Um, Europe and England.”
“With emphasis on literature?”
“I … guess so.”
“Poetry and stuff? Shakespeare?”
“Yeah.”
“How were you doing? What were your grades like?”
Without the amplifier the lad’s answer would have been inaudible. “They were … I was getting by.”
“Do you recall your quiz grades in the latter part of April that year?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Or didn’t you notice?”
“Objection!” declared the prosecutor. “He’s badgering the witness.”
“Sustained,” said the judge.
“Jason, look at the jury and answer this question. Weren’t your grades so poor in April that you feared failing ELPS and losing your chance at the junior varsity?”
“Objection!” called Peele, getting to his feet. “Assuming a fact not in evidence.”
The judge looked at the witness’s pale face. “Overruled. Answer the question, Mr. Bartry.”
The lad’s eyes flashed once at the jury but immediately fell. He mumbled, “I-I was getting by.”
“And did you decide that the best way to cover your grades was to remove the teacher?”
Peele’s florid face darkened. “Objection!” he screamed. “Argumentative. Badgering the witness.”
“Withdrawn,” said Davis calmly. He turned away toward the defense table but reversed himself and again faced the witness. “One last thing, Jason. When you reported these allegations to Mr. Blaylock, the guidance counselor, how did it make you feel?”
The witness shrugged. “Mad, I guess.”
“‘Mad?’ You were angry?”
“Because of what she had done to her husband.”
“And that made you angry?”
“I was also sad for letting my mom down.”
“Did Blaylock appear to believe you?”
“Well … not at first.”
“Your honor,” called the prosecutor, still standing, “I object to this whole line of questioning. The witness has already testified to that conversation.”
“Overruled,” responded the judge, shaking his head. “Proceed, Mr. Davis.”
“You say Blaylock didn’t believe you at first.”
“Yeah. He said it was my word against a teacher’s.”
“How did you convince him?”
“I guess … after awhile he could tell I was serious. He kind of got it.”
“Did you tell him anything to show just how serious you were?”
“Objection!” called the prosecutor.
The judge interrupted before the florid-faced man could justify himself. “Mr. Peele, I have already ruled that the entire conversation may be taken as evidence.”
Shaking his head, Peele resumed his seat.
Davis repeated, “Jason, what did you say to Blaylock to convince him?”
The lad shrugged. “After a while he just got it.”
Davis studied the lad a moment then glanced at the jury. “That’s all,” he said and walked back to the defense table.
“Any recross?” asked the judge.
“Uh, no, your honor,” Peele answered.
Beside him Ms. Marquette whispered, “Why don’t you remind the kid of his threat to commit suicide?”
Peele gritted his teeth and whispered, “Tell me how to do it without asking a leading question!”
“You may step down, young man,” said the judge. “Mr. Peele, call your next witness.”
“Your honor, the prosecution rests.”
“Very well. At this point the court would like to know if Mr. Bartry’s computer has been produced. Deputy Trallis, I saw you re-enter the courtroom a moment ago. Will you answer that question?”
The deputy stood up. “Your honor, Jason Bartry’s mother is in the court. She tells me he has a new computer, that the old one was junked last summer.”
“Thank you, deputy. Mr. Davis, is the defense ready to proceed?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Then call your first witness.”
“Your honor, if I may, first I move to quash the five charges of having sexual relations with a subordinate ward, on the grounds that the prosecutor has failed to offer proof of any kind for them.”
The judge stared for a moment. “Explain that, Mr. Davis.”
“Mr. Bartry is a student of the defendant, not a ward, and is not dependent upon her in any sense. When you read Public Law 17, Section 4, which specifies those charges, it is apparent that the legislature meant to outlaw guards or nurses taking advantage of inmates, people who truly are dependent wards.”
“Very well, Mr. Davis. I’ll take your motion under advisement. For now proceed with the defense.”
“The defense calls Hamilton Damien Frew.”
A tall, gangly man took the stand, was sworn and stated his name.
Davis asked him, “Mr. Frew, what is your relationship with the defendant?”
“I have the good fortune of being her husband.” The man’s voice was strong. He glanced at the defendant and smiled.
“‘The good fortune,’ you say. Under the circumstances … Sir, could you explain your choice of words?”
“She’s in love with me and I’m in love with her. That’s good fortune.”
“Then you don’t believe she has betrayed you?”
“Objection!” called the prosecutor indignantly. “Leading. Furthermore it’s irrelevant and immaterial. It doesn’t matter what he believes.”
“Sustained,” said the judge.
“Mr. Frew,” continued Davis with a slight smile, “do you recall the night of Saturday, April 9, last year?”
“Perfectly.”
“Why is that, Mr. Frew?”
“Because it was our engagement anniversary.”
“Your, ah, ‘engagement anniversary?’”
“Yes. Harriet and I were married very simply and quietly, but our first intimacy took place on the night of our engagement. So that’s what we celebrate every year.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Five years.”
“And the last time you celebrated it was last year on April 9?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell us about that.”
“We had decided to spend the night at a motel for a change of scene. I had to stay late at the store so Harriet checked us in at the motel. I joined her a bit later and we spent the night.”
“Did you meet with anyone else that night?”
“No one.”
“In particular, did you meet with or see the alleged victim, Jason Bartry, at any time?”
“No. Not a trace.”
“When did you and your wife leave the motel?”
“The following morning about nine o’clock.”
“Did you see anyone then?”
“No, the maids had not yet shown up. We had incurred no other charges, so we left the bill on our card.”
“Mr. Frew, can you describe the motel room? What was the number?”
“It was Room 27. It had blue wallpaper with a faint yellow pattern of flowers. The bed was a Hollywood style queen-size, with a massive bookcase headboard.”
“What about the bathroom?”
“It was light blue with white furnishings. The tub had a blue shower curtain.”
“Did you notice a clock in the bedroom?”
“Yes, a digital clock with a glowing readout in two-inch red numerals. It was on the headboard.”
“Mr. Frew, to the best of your knowledge has your wife ever betrayed you with another person?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s all.”
The judge said, “You may cross-examine, Mr. Peele.”
The prosecutor sneered. “I have no questions for this witness who is so very friendly to the defense, though I state at this time I will call another witness in rebuttal to his testimony.”
“Very well. The court takes notice of your intent to reopen the prosecution’s case. Call your next witness, Mr. Davis.”
“I call Marjory L. Callahan.”
The bailiff returned from the witness room, leading a neatly-dressed fortyish woman with short hair and restrained makeup. She was seated, sworn and answered with her name.
“Mrs. Callahan,” asked Davis, “what is your occupation?”
“I am a high-school teacher for Graham Country.” Her voice was a scratchy contralto.
“What was your occupation in May of last year?”
“I had just recovered from medical treatment and was assigned to complete Harriet Frew’s ELPS classes after she … left.”
“Objection, your honor!” called the prosecutor. “By this witness’s own admission she can know nothing about the crimes charged.”
The judge shook his head. “Oh, I think that’s a premature conclusion, Mr. Peele. Overruled.”
Davis continued, “When you took over Ms. Frew’s classes, in particular the ELPS class attended by Jason Bartry, what did you find out about Jason’s record?”
“Objection!” cried Peele. “Irrelevant and immaterial.”
“Overruled,” answered the judge. “The witness will answer.”
“He was failing,” said the woman.
“‘Failing,’” Davis repeated. “Where was this record kept?”
“In the school server is where I saw it. All teachers keep personal printouts, of course, but Ms. Frew had cleaned out her desk.”
“What information indicated Jason was failing?”
“Poor quiz grades, some of which were zeroes because of absences never made up, and a major zero for a midterm report that had never been turned in.”
“When exactly did you replace Ms. Frew?”
“On Thursday, May 5.”
“So you served almost a month. Did you do anything with the intention of improving Jason’s grades?”
“Well, yes, I talked to him about them, especially that missing report.”
“Your honor,” said Peele, getting to his feet, “I renew my objection. This occurred, all of it, after the illegal acts occurred.”
“Sustained,” said the judge.
Peele immediately continued, “I move that this witness’s testimony be stricken.”
“Overruled,” the judge retorted. “Mr. Davis, do you have additional questions for this witness?”
“Just one, your honor. Ms. Callahan, did you have occasion to discuss Jason Bartry with the principal of Graham High?”
“Yes, I did.”
“When did this discussion occur?”
“The last week of school, when the final grades were assigned.”
“What was the subject of the discussion?”
“Objection, your honor!” shouted Peele.
“Overruled,” responded the judge before the angry prosecutor could cite his reasons. “What was the subject, Ms. Callahan?”
“Jason’s grade.”
“What did the principal say?” asked Davis.
“To give Jason an Incomplete.”
“Instead of an F?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know why?”
“Yes, they needed him on the junior varsity the next year.”
“Objection!” Peele shouted. “That has to be hearsay or worse.”
“Sustained,” responded the judge. “That question and answer will be stricken. The jury is instructed to ignore them. Is that all, Mr. Davis?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“You may cross-examine, Mr. Peele.”
The prosecutor approached the stand with a frown. “Ms. Callahan, to your knowledge what does the school server presently record as Jason’s grades in tenth grade ELPS?”
“Incomplete.”
“No, I refer to the grades you described for the defense attorney.”
“Well, the zeroes have been replaced by Incompletes.”
“Did you do that?”
“Yes, sir, at the principal’s direction.”
“I see. Now then, Ms. Callahan, I call your attention to students’ comments and behavior in Jason’s ELPS class after you took over. Did you notice anything on the subject of Ms. Frew or Jason?”
The defense attorney leapt to his feet, mouth open to speak but closed it with a snap.
“Yes, Mr. Davis?” inquired the judge.
“Pardon me, your honor,” said Davis, dropping back into his seat.
Peele repeated, “Did you notice anything on that subject, Ms. Callahan?”
“Only that Jason didn’t answer the roll call for over a week.”
“Nothing else? No conversations among the students?”
The judge cleared his throat. “If the defense won’t object to this line of questioning, the court will. It appears that you are soliciting gossip, Mr. Peele. Ask a different question.”
“Um. Thank you, your honor. I have no more questions for this witness.”
“Any recross, Mr. Davis?”
“No, your honor.”
“You may step down, Ms. Callahan. The defense will call its next witness.”
Standing up, Davis said, “The defense rests, your honor.”
“Very well. Mr. Peele, did you have a rebuttal witness?”
“Yes, your honor. The people call Alonzo Duff.”
Wearing jeans, dirty sneakers and exposed shirttails, Alonzo Duff, sallow face unshaven, took the stand and was sworn.
Peele asked, “Mr. Duff, how old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“In the spring of last year what was your occupation?”
“I helped out some at the Marris.”
“That was the Marris Inn on State Highway 55?”
“I reckon. They ain’t no other one, is they?”
“I call your attention to the evening of April 9, a Saturday. Did you have occasion to be in the motel parking lot that night?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you see anyone near the motel that night who is presently in the courtroom?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Please rise and point out the person you saw… Will the pointed-out person please rise also? … The standing person — Mr. Duff, is that the person you saw that night?”
“Yeah.”
“Let the record show that Mr. Duff has pointed out Jason Bartry, the complaining witness in this case. Thank you. You may both sit down… Mr. Duff, where exactly did you see Jason that night?”
“In a car parked in the lot.”
“Who was with him?”
“I didn’t see nobody else.”
“About what time was this?”
“It was full dark.”
“Was there enough light to make him out?”
“Yeah, a street light nearby.”
“Isn’t it actually an area light?”
“Yeah, area.”
“How do you fix Jason in your memory?”
“Huh?”
“That night was almost a year ago, Mr. Duff. How can you be sure of the date and that it was the same person?”
“I know it was that night ’cause that’s the only Saturday night I hung around the motel. I asked him if he had a cigarette.”
“How did he respond?”
“He cussed me and rolled up the window.”
“And you’re absolutely certain it was the person you just pointed out: Mr. Jason Bartry?”
“Yeah, it was him.”
“Thank you. That’s all.”
The defense attorney took his place with a smile. “You remember that person very well, do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then what side of the car was he sitting on?”
“Huh?”
“Was he in the driver or the passenger seat?”
“The driver seat.”
“In the driver’s seat? But he was only 15, Mr. Duff.”
The witness shrugged. “Maybe he moved over there while he was waiting for somebody.”
“On what side of the car were you standing when you asked for a cigarette?”
“The driver’s side.”
“All right. Now what kind of car was it?”
The man blinked and rolled his eyes. “I can’t say.”
“Why can’t you say?”
“I don’t remember. Guess I didn’t notice.”
“‘Didn’t notice!’ Have you been talking to Ms. Marquette too?”
A bark of laughter in the courtroom drowned his reply, if any.
“Now this is very important, Mr. Duff. Did you see anyone else near that car at any time? Did you see the occupant get out and go into any room?”
“No. When he cussed me, I left.”
“Where did you go?”
“To the lobby. I still wanted to cage a smoke.”
“Did you see that car or its occupant later that night?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Thank you. That’s all, your honor.”
The judge asked, “Any re-cross, Mr. Peele?”
“No, your honor. The prosecution rests.”
“The witness is excused. The court will now take a recess for lunch. When it reconvenes at 1:30, I will rule on the defense motion and hear the closing arguments.”
“All rise!” shouted the bailiff as the judge pushed back his chair.
Part 2
The sharp-nosed judge announced in his sonorous voice, “Although the codes of justice in many states do outlaw sex between teacher and students, quite explicitly in some, the code of our great state does not. Public Law 17, Section 4, prohibits sexual relations between an institutional employee and a committed inmate, offering prisons, orphanages and foster homes as examples. It says nothing about teachers and students. Do you have any comment, Mr. Peele?”
“Well, only that it may have been the legislature’s intent —”
“If the legislature had meant schools, would it not have been simple for it to add them to its short list of institutional types?”
“Uh, yes, your honor.”
“This court will uphold the defense motion. The five counts of sex with a dependent ward are stricken from the indictment. Is the defense ready to present its closing argument?”
“Yes, your honor, and thank you,” said Davis.
“Then you may proceed.”
The defense attorney in his still wrinkled suit got to his feet and faced the jury with a smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, you will recall me saying that the prosecution has very few footprints in this case. In fact it has exactly five — those emails — and faint footprints they are, for two reasons! First it is no longer possible, if it ever was, to prove that in fact they were sent by the defendant, and second … You haven’t yet had the chance to study them carefully, but what do they prove anyway? That the defendant knew something about poetry? Perhaps that she wanted to awaken in this callow young athlete an appreciation for it? Four of these emails are Shakespearean sonnets, written in the place and during the historical period that was a subject of her class. I submit to you that these emails, if they originated with the defendant at all, constituted nothing more than a conscientious teacher’s effort to instill some appreciation for life as it existed during recent European history, the area of her responsibility.”
For a moment Davis studied the jurors thoughtfully. The stared back at him with interest.
“Now then, in fact the only testimony to prohibited action is the statement of Jason Bartry himself. Everything else is someone quoting him. How much of it, if any, is true? That is your responsibility to decide, but consider this. Do his reasons for betraying his teacher ring true? Six of you have been teenage boys and the other six I’m sure have had to deal with them. You all have reason to know the power of teenage sex drives. Can you imagine a teenage boy who felt guilty about disobeying his mother? Or about having sex with any female who would hold still? Or in particular about harming another male to whom the woman is promised?
“You must have noticed that after introducing it via the guidance counselor, the prosecuting attorney failed to ask Jason about his threat to commit suicide … and Jason’s failure to recall it himself when I asked him about it. I submit that Jason couldn’t remember just what he had told the counselor … because none of it was true!
“If untrue, then what was his motive to ruin his teacher? I think we have shown you that. Membership in the junior varsity is supremely important to any young man who has a chance for it. But towards the close of tenth grade, Jason’s chance was hanging by a thread — his failing grade in ELPS. In fact that thread had already snapped, but only the ELPS teacher knew it. If she could be removed somehow, his athletic chance might be saved. In fact she was removed and Jason’s ELPS failure was removed along with her.
“One last thing: the prosecutor put on a final witness to rebut Mr. Frew’s testimony about spending that fateful Saturday night with his wife. But did he rebut it in fact? Hardly! In fact he contradicted nothing from Mr. Frew. What that witness actually did, however, was supply a key fact that I had wondered about. If Jason was lying about everything, how did he know that Ms. Frew was actually and undeniably present in that motel on April 9? Now we have the answer. I submit that Jason, regardless of his unlicensed state, was following Mrs. Frew that night. He followed —”
“Objection!” cried the prosecutor. “Assuming a fact not in evidence.”
Davis retorted, “He was in the driver’s seat, your honor, a pretty clear inference.”
“Overruled,” said the judge.
Davis continued, “He followed her to the motel, saw her enter the office then go to Room 27. With this fact in mind, he began to get a glimmer of the way to save his plans for the junior varsity. The rest is the story of a teenager without a conscience, willing to do and say whatever it takes to get what he wants. He’ll say anything at all, including his ability to return home in the early hours through a backdoor that his father carefully locked on every other night of the year!”
Davis paused, glancing around the jury’s faces. “He’ll say anything at all, including the defendant bringing glasses in her purse instead of using the motel’s plastic cups, and most tellingly, reporting a ho-hum reaction to his first experience with a female. Wasn’t that remarkable? How does it square with your memories?
“Please note that it squares perfectly with, ‘Never happened!’
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve given you more than sufficient reasonable doubt. I ask you to return a verdict of ‘Not Guilty.’”
Davis took his seat. The defendant smiled at him.
The judge said, “The prosecutor will make his closing argument.”
“Thank you, your honor,” said Peele, getting to his feet. He smiled at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard the testimony that Jason Bartry, an unsophisticated 15-year-old, came to his guidance counselor for help when guilt for his actions became overwhelming. You have heard Jason’s own report of how Ms. Frew took advantage of her authoritative position, not to speak of her shapely good looks, to seduce him. You have heard confirmation that Jason was definitely at the Marris Inn on the second night of her indulgence. You will be able to study the email this scheming woman used to fire the defenseless lad’s prurient imagination. You have had the chance to study his winsome good looks. Compare that to the looks of her husband and you can understand her motive perfectly. These facts and inferences alone are enough to convince a jury with such knowledge of human nature as I see before me.
“But you’ve also been told a different interpretation of these facts. Let’s consider that a moment. According to the defense attorney, Jason advanced his claims to the guidance counselor only as a diversion to further his chance of acceptance in the junior varsity the following year. Let’s suppose for a moment that such may indeed have been his motive for reporting Ms. Frew’s conduct. If true, so what? That doesn’t prove the two nights of depravity never happened. And it’s the impure events of those two nights that she is charged with.
“Indulge me one moment longer, ladies and gentlemen, and recall the movie Tea and Sympathy, with Deborah —”
“Objection!” shouted Davis. “Totally irrelevant, immaterial and incompetent!”
Peele smiled beatifically. “I’m about to use it as an example to infer a kinder motive for Ms. Frew’s action.”
“I continue to object, your honor.”
“Sustained,” said the judge.
Peele frowned and hesitated, as if thrown off stride. He took a deep breath. “Whatever her motives may have been, she evidently did seduce her 15-year-old student into sexual perversion and did supply him intoxicating liquor to drink. I request that you return a verdict of guilty on all counts. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.”
As the prosecutor took his seat, the judge rotated in his swivel chair to face the jury. “We have a bit over three hours left to us today. Before this case goes to the jury, I want it to consider the following points carefully.
“You, the jury, are the sole judges of the facts in this case. Your main responsibility is to determine if they are true. The defendant, Harriet Frew, is charged with five counts of Statutory Rape of a Minor, two counts of Supplying Alcoholic Beverages to a Minor and one count of Moral Turpitude in a Government Employee. If you find that the defendant had sex with Mr. Bartry, she is by definition guilty of one or more counts of the first charge, whether he desired it or not, because at the time of the alleged incidents he was 15 years old and below the age of consent. And I point out that the law does not mention the gender of the participants. This act is just as illegal whether the male or the female is the older.
“The second set of charges also depends on his age, because the law of this state prescribes that alcoholic beverages may not be supplied to anyone under 18. The third charge of moral turpitude may be unclear to some of you. Here is how the law defines it.”
The judge read from an open book. “‘Moral turpitude in a government employee is personal misconduct by an employee of the state or a local government, in the duties which such an employee owes to his fellow employees or the citizens of the state, which characterizes the behavior as an act of baseness, vileness or depravity.’ Ms. Frew was an employee of a local government, to wit the public schools of Graham County. If you find that she acted in a base, vile or depraved manner toward Mr. Bartry, then you must find her guilty on this count.
“I emphasize that your duty is not to judge based on your personal feelings but to follow the law. Are the claims that the defendant broke the law true or false? You must decide separately in each of the five counts, the two counts and the one, and return a verdict of guilty or innocent on each.
“In this case the defendant has exercised her perfect right, guaranteed by the U. S. constitution, not to testify in her own defense. The jury is instructed not to take notice of this fact, in particular not to use it as the basis for a judgment of guilty.
“Now, then, for reasons that I shall not disclose at this time, since they may affect your deliberations, I must tell you that I shall order the jury sequestered if it cannot reach decision before six p.m. on each day of deliberations. The jury may now retire and deliberate its verdicts.”
Part 3
“Jesus, I need a smoke!” Edgar Chalmers exclaimed as a bailiff closed the door behind the twelve jurors. They found themselves in a moderate-sized room with just enough space for a single long table and a dozen straight, unpadded chairs, all of polished oak. The windowless walls were painted institutional green. A large portrait of the state governor, face wreathed in his trademark fatuous smile, hung on the far wall.
“Me too,” Jed Soros remarked behind him.
“No smoking in here.” Sabitha Jones said stridently. “It’s against the law.”
“Damn it, they can’t keep us cooped up all day without a smoke!” Edgar amplified. “I’ll go crazy.”
Sabitha, a thin, long-faced woman with gray temples, sniffed in derision. “They shouldn’t let smokers be on juries.” She sniffed again. “Or do anything else in public.”
“Oh, shit. I can see we’re in for a fun time.”
“Look here,” said Jed, a husky thirtyish type in a cardigan sweater. He pointed to a grille set low in a far corner. “That’s a cold air return.”
“So what?” asked Edgar.
“And the fan’s going.” Jed pulled a chair beside the grille. Grinning at the others, he shook a cigarette from his pack, lit it and blew out a large puff of smoke that promptly vanished into the grille. “That’s what,” he said smugly.
“Hey, good work!” cried Edgar, dragging forth his own chair and likewise lighting up.
Sabitha scowled. “That only means somebody else is put at risk.”
Edgar, balding, skinny, 45 and puffing smoke, glared at her. “You’ll turn us in?”
Sabitha faced away from him.
“Anyone else opposed?” Jed asked.
“Indulge your filthy habit,” Creighton Malmo groused. “I gave it up years ago. You should try.”
Edgar and Jed were soon joined by an obese woman of indeterminate age. The two men nodded in response to her shy smile. They all smoked and diligently blew the fumes toward the grille as the other jurors assembled around the long table.
Creighton, the only man wearing a business suit, declared, “We have to elect a foreman. First I suggest we introduce ourselves. I’m Creighton Malmo.”
The fat female smoker gave her name as Bertha Halston. While the name announcements proceeded she smirked and murmured to her two coconspirators, “That testimony was something else, wasn’t it! I could’ve been tempted by that pretty boy!”
Jed shook his head. “I found it disappointing. I mean, I thought it’d be more like watching a porno flick.”
“Yeah,” Edgar agreed. “We heard a lot of legal talk, but not many specifics about the purported action.”
Bertha asked, “Do you believe the defendant, you know, really sucked on … on the boy’s, ah …”
“Cock?” suggested Jed.
She blushed despite her bright eyes.
“If you believe him,” Edgar declared with a flourish of his cigarette. “If Harriet actually did it, that kid was really lucky. When I was his age, I could only dream of getting a blow job, certainly by a pretty woman. Christ, she’s got sweet legs!”
“I guess we shouldn’t talk like this,” Bertha said. “We have to make a legal decision.”
Edgar said dreamily, “Still, I wonder if he went down on her, like he said. I’d do it in a minute.”
Bertha, who had not experienced such a pleasure since she was sixteen and almost slender, flicked her ashes into the grille, ground out her cigarette on her shoe sole and dropped the butt into her purse. “We’d better find out what they’re up to,” she said, sighing and turning away.
The jurors were electing their foreman. Sabitha, obviously disappointed in her own candidacy, was the only one voting against Creighton Malmo, the suit-wearing elderly podiatrist. The three smokers effectively abstained, but the tally was already eight to one, so no one pressed them.
“I know all about feet,” Creighton said with a grin as he took his seat at the head of table next to the door, “but intergenerational sex is new to me.”
“You’ve never ogled young girls?” Jed asked.
“I try not to, because you can never know if the girl is under the age of eighteen.”
“Eighteen! What does age matter? I once screwed a girl of 16 who was as adult as anybody.”
“Be careful, Jed,” Edgar warned. “You’ve confessed to a felony.”
“Not really. I was just 17 myself. The point I’d like to make is so what if the boy got lucky! What does it matter that the woman was so much older? I screwed an older woman before I was 18, and I can tell you I learned a lot.”
“Actually, from the evidence, it’s doubtful the boy told the truth,” Edgar remarked. “You know how teen age boys lie about sex, and that defense lawyer derailed the case darn well. But I’m a romantic.” He grinned around at the others. “I’d like to believe that Jason in fact did get lucky.”
“Jason was raped!” Sabitha exclaimed.
“So he says,” sneered Jed.
Her chin rose. “Put yourself in his position. Would you go to somebody and acknowledge something so awful if it weren’t true?”
Jed leered. “Are you asking, would I brag?”
Ignoring his response, she continued, “Who can calculate the ramifications of this, this terrible crime? The boy is ruined! He’ll live with the consequences of this ugly sexual experience for the remainder of his life.”
“Bullshit!” Edgar exclaimed. “Would he be ‘ruined’ if his first sexual experience was with a girl his own age?”
“It would be less traumatic.”
“Less traumatic! I suppose you also consider masturbation to be traumatic.”
“It’s sinful.”
“Sinful! I’m sorry, Sabitha, but this is the twenty-first century and you’re talking like a medieval nun.”
“I’m a Jehovah’s Witness, Edgar. I suggest you clean up your life and embrace Jesus. The Rapture is near.”
“Who told you that?” inquired Jed with a derisive snort, winking at Edgar.
Judith Morrison, an attractive thirtyish blonde, said reasonably, “I see what’s going on. Ms. — ah, Ms. Jones?”
Sabitha nodded.
“Ms. Jones is looking at it as a woman does when a man molests a young girl. But here it’s a woman and a young guy. Is that really the same? What do you men think?”
“That doesn’t matter,” declared Creighton. “We have to abide by the law. You heard the judge. The law is gender blind.” He officiously banged his fist on the mahogany table like a gavel. “Let’s get down to business. First off, let’s take an initial poll regarding the defendant’s general guilt or innocence. Maybe we can all agree and be done early.”
The man whose name no one could remember remarked, “Well, she’s guilty or the D. A. wouldn’t’ve brought these charges.”
Bertha spoke up. “I’m confused. I suspect that the defendant did have sex with the boy, because of what Ms. Jones said about the embarrassment. Did you notice the way he wouldn’t look at her during the trial? I think she loves him but not the reverse. Why do we have to punish her?”
“You’re a real romantic, Bertha,” observed Jed. “Do you envy her?”
“In a way, I guess. The boy’s very pretty and large for his age.”
“How large do you suppose?” Edgar asked, smirking.
“You people are salacious!” Sabitha protested.
“Stop screwing around!” Creighton shouted. “Let’s have a preliminary vote.”
The jury was split. Edgar, Jed and two others voted innocent. Bertha and Judith abstained. Judith sat opposite Edgar, who shamelessly ogled her well-filled blouse. She did not seem to mind his staring, and she smiled in response.
“How can you people vote innocent?” Creighton asked. “Didn’t you listen to the prosecutor? Or the judge? She wouldn’t testify, even in her own defense. That’s because she’s guilty!”
Edgar hunched over the table, grinning up and down its extent at the other jurors. “Naughty, naughty, Creighton. The judge said to ignore that. But so what? Her silence might be because of what Ms. Jones said about embarrassment. Who wants to be questioned about his — her — sex life?”
The others stared silently back at him. He added, “Okay, suppose the charges are true. Wouldn’t it be unjust as hell to convict the woman and ruin her life over such a trifling matter.”
“Trifling!” Sabitha exclaimed. “That evil woman forced the child to have sex!”
“To be more precise,” Jed stated, “the lucky, so-called victim is an adult size male who just happened to be under eighteen years of age. He’s a star athlete and strong as a bull. How do you suppose a little girl like Harriet would force him to do anything?”
“Tell me, Ms. Jones,” Egdar asked, scratching his chin stubble and grinning. “May I call you Sabitha? How old were you with your first partner?”
“Partner? You’re talking about sex? I’m not married, Mister Chalmers.”
“You mean you’re a virgin? Astounding! You can’t be younger than thirty!”
“I’m married to Jesus, you dirty man!”
“Jesus? How’s he in bed?” demanded Jed.
Only Edgar chortled. The others, except Judith, scowled. Bertha suppressed a smile.
“Sabitha,” Edgar said, “you aren’t qualified to be on this jury. You’re unfamiliar with the very substance of the case.”
“That’s enough!” Creighton barked. “We’ve been impaneled to decide whether the defendant is in violation of the law. A jury of eunuch monks is qualified to perform such a service to society.”
“I disagree,” Egdar objected. “Out there in the courtroom it was a matter of law. But here we should be concerned with justice. If the case involved a thirty year old male teacher and a girl in her early teens, maybe justice would demand a guilty verdict. But it doesn’t. In this case we’re dealing with a boy, a young man, who is near the peak of his sexual powers. For sure he wanted sex, regardless of his testimony — boys his age need it — and by god he got lucky! At least I hope he did.”
“You are an awful person!” Sabitha screamed then broke down in tears.
“Not true, Chalmers!” Creighton exclaimed. “We are bound by the law. Justice has nothing to do with this matter.”
“The law is not so iron-clad, Malmo,” Edgar continued. “If it were, just about everybody would be in prison.”
Creighton, frowning, could not avoid asking, “How do you mean?”
“Have you ever been in the middle of a block and said to a companion, ‘Let’s cross here’?”
“Sure, but so what?”
“So what! You conspired with that person to violate the law against jay-walking. Conspiracy is a felony!”
“Yeah,” Jed spoke up. “And we all committed a felony just a few minutes ago when you agreed that we could smoke next to the cold air return.”
“This is ridiculous!” Creighton exclaimed. “No one gets charged with conspiracy to commit a misdemeanor.”
“That’s my point, Malmo,” Edgar said, leaning forward again. “The law is flexible, and we should keep that in mind while deciding this case.”
* * *
Over the next few hours the jurors debated the evidence, sometimes heatedly. Edgar and Jed argued that even if the defendant actually had sex with the boy, she should not be found guilty. “Ought to give her a medal,” muttered Jed at one point. “That movie they wouldn’t let the prosecutor mention, ah, Tea and Sympathy. So they didn’t give Deborah Kerr a medal but everybody thought she’d done good. Likewise Harriet Frew. Do you really want to punish a woman for being kind to a callow kid?”
Judith also argued in favor of the defense. “What’s the evidence, besides some quoted poetry that amounts to homework assignments, plus Jason’s testimony? That boy is lying. I know the type. I had a kid brother like that. He claimed to’ve had sex with the most popular girls in his class, but I know he was still a virgin until he paid for a prostitute when he was eighteen.”
“Did he tell you?” Edgar asked incredulously. “I mean were you that close to him?”
“I beat the truth out of him after he stole the money from my purse. He went with a twenty dollar streetwalker and wound up with a dose of clap.”
Edgar appraised the woman, who was tall and well-fleshed with large breasts. “Did he put up much of a fight?”
“Not really.” She giggled and winked. “I made it hard for him.”
Most of the jury laughed.
“People,” Creighton interrupted, “it’s getting dark outside and we are nowhere near a verdict. I’ll have to inform the bailiff. I expect we’ll be spending the night.”
Groans echoed in the room as the foreman rose and went to the door. He opened it and summoned a large, black officer with whom he whispered.
“Where will they put us up?” Jed inquired.
“I’ve got an important meeting tomorrow morning!” someone exclaimed bitterly.
“It’s all because of that evil woman!” Sabitha declared. “She’s poisoning our lives too!”
Judith leaned near and whispered to Edgar, “I don’t like to sleep alone.”
“Is that a fact?” he replied, startled by the seeming invitation.
“I’m afraid of the dark, especially in strange places.”
“People!” Creighton ordered. “Gather your stuff. We’re checking into the hotel across the street.”
“Will we have single rooms?” Edgar asked. “I don’t like bunking with anybody.” He winked at Judith.
“One room for each juror, but they won’t have any TV and you can’t read the papers.”
“As if anybody cared about this stupid case,” someone remarked.
“That’s just the trouble,” retorted Creighton. “They do care. The deputy told me they’ve received threats.”
The jurors blinked at each other but the complaints ceased.
* * *
Edgar had just settled in before hearing a knock on the hotel room door. Upon opening it, he was startled but not entirely surprised to see Judith standing with an expression of mixed nervousness and hope on her attractive face.
“Hi,” she said, sheepishly. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” Edgar replied, stepping aside.
She did not look like a school girl, but her attire suggested one. The skirt was short and the slender legs bare. She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at him with a hopeful smile.
He sat beside her, cautiously, and placed a hand on the pale flesh of her near thigh.
“Am I mistaken?” he asked. “If so, I apologize.”
“No, not at all.”
With a hand over his she moved the exploring palm under her skirt and further up her thigh.
He barked a brief, nervous laugh. “This situation, ah, is rather novel to me. I’m married you know, although just legally. My wife and I separated after fifteen years.”
“Were you faithful all that time, Edgar?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not the sort to play around.”
“But now that you’re separated you must feel, shall we say, a renewed liberty. I’ve been divorced for almost a year. I think we have needs in common.”
For the next thirty or forty minutes there was little further talk. Kissing, undressing, sucking and licking led to wild indulgence in the missionary position. Edgar came more quickly than he wanted but remained erect long enough to bring his partner to a noisy climax.
“God! I needed that!” Judith exclaimed. “I haven’t had sex since my divorce.”
Edgar dismounted, palmed a generous breast then kissed her briefly.
“You’re a treasure, a real jewel,” he said. “This has been no less exciting than my first time at age sixteen.”
“With an older woman? A teacher, perhaps?” Judith asked, playfully.
“No. Sarah was fourteen. We were both virgins, although she was born without a hymen. I actually brought her off — at least on our second shot.”
“What a lucky girl! I had too much hymen, and suffered greatly as a consequence.”
“Poor kid! Women don’t have it easy.”
“That’s the plain truth. Do you recall her fondly?”
“Oh, yes. We went together for two years, until I graduated high school and went off to college. I have videos of her, some of them taken at the beach. Whenever I view them, I’m struck by her vibrancy and youthful sleekness. I wasn’t aware of those qualities at the time.”
“My first memories are not so pleasant.” She sighed but brightened. “This case — I think I understand why older guys get turned on by young girls, Edgar. But women respond differently to young boys, however pretty.”
“How so?”
“Having sex with a boy like Jason would be like playing with a doll, a toy. I would soon tire of it, as would most women. After the novelty, one would experience shame and guilt. Normal women are attracted to accomplished, grown men. A woman who would have an affair with a youngster, say Harriet with Jason, is a person who has other problems, maybe psychological or substance abuse. Harriet does not strike me as being that sort of woman. That’s why I’m convinced she’s innocent and the boy is lying, even if she won’t defend herself.”
He nodded slowly. “You make a good point. As I’ve said before, I’d like to believe that the boy got lucky, but in fact I have to agree with you. Harriet’s husband is successful. Going to a motel to celebrate their anniversary proves he’s attentive. It doesn’t add up. Moreover, there’s no real concrete evidence that she and Jason had any sexual contact.”
“Well, apparently he was at the motel that night.”
“Yeah, if you believe that panhandler. Jason was probably looking for dirt on her. Or maybe he had a crush. Actually he could’ve been following anybody. Fifteen year old boys steal their fathers’ cars all the time.”
“God, you’re well hung, Edgar!” Judith exclaimed, changing the subject. “You’re soft, yet your cock fills my hand.”
“Do you want some more?” he asked, fondling a breast and kissing the juncture of her neck and shoulder.”
“Christ yes! Let me suck you hard. I relish that taste.”
As her mouth closed over him, he shook his head and declared with feeling, “God, your husband’s a fool. If my wife was half this hot, you better believe I’d still be living at home!”
She chuckled nasally.
He added. “What was his problem anyway?”
She unmouthed him long enough to say, “He caught me doing this to a couple of paperboys.”
“No shit!” he breathed. “God! From now on your name is ‘Deborah.’”
She laughed nasally while her lips sank nearly to his belly.
Fifteen minutes later, clawing his shoulders, she cried out in orgasm as his long, thick cock rammed in and out of her at athletic speed. Soon she came again, screaming into his ear while he yelped and emptied himself.
“This is too good,” she murmured, panting in exhaustion after he rolled off her body.
“We can do it on a regular basis, Judith. I won’t be returning to my wife.”
“I’d like to give it a try, darling.”
* * *
“You seem pleased this morning,” Jed said to Edgar as they entered the jury room. “Did you sleep well?”
“I didn’t sleep alone, Jed.”
“You lucky dog! That Judith is a real looker. I had to make do, myself.”
“You whacked off?”
“Not quite. Bertha and I spent the night together. If you’ve ever had a porker, you know they’ll do anything you ask — I mean everything. It’s been a long time since I butt-fucked a woman.”
“Hah! Are you admitting to having done it with a guy, Jed?”
The younger man snickered but kept his voice low. “We’re talking about last night. That kid’s testimony turned Bertha on to high heat. She wanted to practice everything he claimed on Lover’s Hill. I made her suck me again after I pulled out of her ass.”
“What do you mean, ‘made’?”
“Don’t worry, she loved it. Said she wouldn’t do it, but when I insisted, she nearly pulled it right off.”
“Come on people,” Creighton interrupted. “Lets get down to business.”
Judith and Edgar again sat opposite each other. Now, as lovers, they were impatient to get away and spend the weekend in bed together. A foot of each caressed the other’s calf.
Another vote indicated that opinions had changed little overnight. Four voted guilty and five said innocent.
“We’re not going to resolve this, Creighton,” Edgar announced, leaning over the table. “Why don’t you inform the judge that we’re deadlocked?”
“That Frew woman is guilty as sin!” Sabitha exclaimed. “I’ll never change my mind.”
“See what I mean?” Edgar said. “It’s hopeless.”
“It’s too soon to give up,” Creighton insisted. “The judge won’t stand for it.”
“Christ! Let’s do something!” a male voice said. “I’ll change my vote to guilty just to get out of here and back home.”
“That’s hardly fair. You know the poor woman is innocent.”
“I don’t want to spend another night in that flea bag.”
“What’s another night? The defendant could spend years in jail for something she didn’t do!”
People began to yell and shout. Creighton pounded on the table with an empty Coke can so hard that it crumpled. “This is getting us nowhere!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “When patients won’t have their toe resculptured, sometimes they’ll agree to remove the nail. Let’s find a compromise.”
“Yuk!” cried Bertha.
“Like what?” asked Edgar.
“Well, we could find her guilty of giving alcohol to a minor and innocent of the sexual charges. She would only serve a couple of months. She might just get a fine.”
“That’s stupid, Creighton,” Jed said. “It’s illogical. She allegedly gave him booze in the motel room as part of a sexual tryst. You can’t separate the booze from the screwing.”
“And oral sex,” Bertha interjected.
“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Creighton said. “Her lawyer would appeal and probably win. In any event it would get us out of here.”
“What do you say?” Judith said to Sabitha, smiling at the other woman.
“I want her guilty of something, that’s for sure.”
“Then let’s do it. I really would like to finish this business and go home.”
“Okay, folks,” Creighton spoke up. “The first vote will be on the charge of giving alcohol to a minor. What do you say?”
The twelve jurors found the defendant guilty.
“Now about the charges regarding sex with the boy. What do you say?”
Eleven jurors said innocent. Sabitha hesitated. The others glared at her.
“All right! Innocent,” she said, scowling. “But I know she’s a bad woman!”
* * *
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge.
Creighton came to his feet. “We have, your honor.”
“I thought a night’s sequestering would help you decide. For the record, that was ordered because of threats by a religious group if the jury found the defendant not guilty.” The judge smiled sardonically. After a moment he looked again at the paper the bailiff had passed him, shook his head and began the ritual. “The defendant will please rise.”
When Davis and his client were standing, the judge continued, “On the five counts of statutory rape, how does the jury find?”
“Not guilty on all five,” declared Creighton.
Harriet Frew blew out her breath audibly.
“On the two counts of supplying alcohol to a minor, how do you find?”
“Guilty on both counts.”
Gasps arose in the courtroom. Ms. Frew’s mouth fell open. She turned wide eyes upon her attorney, who shrugged.
“Guilty, you say?” asked the judge.
“Yes, your honor: guilty.”
Again the judge shook his head. “Very well. On the one count of moral turpitude in a government employee, how do you find?”
“Not guilty.”
The judge nodded and muttered something with the sound of, “Half-way consistent, at least.” He took a deep breath and said loudly, “The jury is discharged with the thanks of the court.
“The maximum punishment for providing alcohol to a minor is 30 days imprisonment or $500 fine for each count — or both penalties together. The minimum punishment is within the judge’s discretion. In this case, due to the weakness of the state’s evidence, the judgment of this court is that the defendant has suffered enough. She is discharged and her bail returned.
“Call your next case, bailiff.”
END
Contacts:
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