Authors: James Scott Bell
“Moral maybe,” Alex said. “But I don’t think the D.A. would look kindly on it.”
We were on a bench outside the courthouse. We had half an hour before court started up again. Sitting in the shade of the municipal trees was actually pleasant. But my mind was too consumed with visions of Sutton Hallard buried up to his neck in sand to take any pleasure in it.
“How can he sit there and lie like that?” I was having trouble getting my breath to stay below hurricane level.
“He’s Jennings’s hired gun, is what he is. He wants to be used by Jennings in the future because he knows he will be well paid. And while it’s not uncommon for evaluators to be biased, it is odd that Jennings would call him to the stand after a favorable report. He really wants to bury us in front of the judge.”
“Is the judge buying it?”
Alex shrugged. “He’s hard to read. I’m going to try and make sure the words are very plain when I cross-examine.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Go for the jugular.”
That brought the first smile of the day to my face. Maybe the first in a week. “You know, I love it when you talk like that.”
“Shut up and finish your coffee.”
As I took a sip I glanced to my left. What I saw made me almost spit my coffee out like a bad comedian.
Ron Reid, in an ill-fitting shirt and tie, was making his way toward the courthouse.
“What’s he doing here?”
Alex gave a look. “Who?”
“My wayward father.”
My lawyer watched Ron amble toward the doors. She shrugged. “Public’s entitled to hear what’s going on. Except . . . your father doesn’t normally dress that way, does he?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“What do you mean, ‘hmm’?”
“I mean he’s dressed for court. Like a witness.”
I looked at her. “You think Jennings is going to call him as a witness?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Bryce Jennings.”
Ron was sitting in the hallway outside the courtroom. When he saw me he stood up and put his hands out, as if to say,
I’m as mystified as you are.
Not likely.
“Hey,” he said, “I got subpoenaed by the other guy.” “What for?” I asked. Alex was standing next to me, wanting to
hear for herself.
“I don’t know. I just—”
A young woman with tight blond hair and a dark blue suit
Sheepishly, Ron shrugged at me and then followed the woman down the hall.
“What is that all about?” I asked.
“She’s an associate of Jennings’s,” Alex said. “They’re going
to put him on the stand if they need him.”
“What’s he going to say about me?”
“You don’t know?”
I tried to think. “There’s nothing he can say either way. He
never saw me with Maddie. Maybe I got ticked off at him. It could be my anger.”
Alex nodded thoughtfully.
“Will they put him on?” I asked.
“If they don’t think Sutton Hallard makes enough of a case.”
“He’s doing pretty good so far,” I said, the despair thick in my mouth.
“He hasn’t gotten by me yet.” Alex started for the courtroom.
Alex took her notes to the podium in the middle of the courtroom. This was it, the showdown at high noon—her cross-examination of Sutton Hallard. My best hope for a chance to get custody of Maddie.
And where was Maddie? I suddenly wondered. Who was she with at this very moment? Not Paula or Troncatti. Erica? That thought spilled ice cubes in my veins.
I pictured Maddie in that big house. Was she, even now, crying for some reason? Had she skinned her knee or stubbed her toe or lost Bonson, her stuffed ape? Why wasn’t anyone there? Why wasn’t I allowed to comfort her? Why wasn’t—
“Dr. Hallard,” I heard Alex say, “how long have you been a clinical psychologist?”
“Twelve years,” Hallard said.
“And how long have you been giving evaluations in family law cases?”
“About seven years, give or take.”
“Give or take what, sir?”
Hallard looked momentarily confused, like he’d misplaced his cuff links or something. “A few months, I suppose.”
“Dr. Hallard, we are going to be covering very specific questions regarding a highly sensitive matter. Rather than supposition, I would like to—”
“Objection!” Bryce Jennings was on his feet. “Ms. Bedrosian’s lecture, I am sure, is of little interest to this court. I would remind Ms. Bedrosian that there is no jury present to play to and that we are all here on a matter of much more—”
Judge Winger put his hand up. “All right, counsel. For the record I’ll overrule the objection. We’re just getting started here, so we all might as well take a deep breath. The witness is experienced, and I’m sure understands the need for specificity. I’m going to give Ms. Bedrosian some latitude, since she bears the burden of persuasion. Continue, Ms. Bedrosian.”
Score a round to us,
I thought. Or maybe it was just one punch. But I was willing to take anything at this point. At least Alex was showing both Jennings and the judge she was not going to back down one bit.
She took a white piece of paper out of a manila folder. “According to your
curriculum vitae
, Dr. Hallard, which is quite extensive, you were in partnership with two other doctors for five years?”
Hallard nodded. “That is correct.”
“And you left the partnership in 1996?”
“Correct.”
“What part of 1996? For specificity.”
Sutton Hallard looked up at the ceiling a moment. “That would have been—the early spring, I believe.”
“And then you opened your own office in that same year, is that correct?”
“Correct.”
“What month was that?”
As I watched Sutton Hallard, the cool and collected clinical psych-dude, I thought I noticed his eyebrows twitch. Or maybe I was just hoping I saw it.
“I believe it was September,” Hallard said. “Yes, September.”
“Early, middle, or late?”
“Your honor,” Bryce Jennings said, “how is this relevant?”
“Good question,” Judge Winger said to Alex.
Alex said, “Indulge just a couple more questions on this, Your Honor?”
“A couple,” said the judge. “But then let’s move it along.”
Alex looked at the witness. “Your answer?”
“Yes, I believe it was in the latter part of September. I remember because my lease began in the beginning of September and I was trying to get everything up in the new office, but things kept happening.”
I threw a quick glance at Bryce Jennings, sitting at the other table. He had a concerned look on his face. What was Alex up to? Whatever it was, it was making Jennings sweat a little, and I loved it. Paula, on the other side of Jennings, was clasping and unclasping her hands.
“Things do happen, don’t they?” Alex said.
Hallard seemed mystified.
My lawyer stepped to the side of the podium. “So between the spring of ’96 and late September of the same year, you did not have an office, is that correct?”
“That is . . . true.”
“Why not?”
The question rang out like a shot. The way Alex asked it, she was telling everybody in the courtroom, including the witness, that she very well knew the answer. And suddenly Sutton Hallard’s poker face got a serious case of the jitters.
Bryce Jennings got the message. “How is this at all relevant, Your Honor? I must object. When Dr. Hallard took residence in his office? How he spent his summer vacation? I don’t understand.”
“You will,” Alex said.
The courtroom was suddenly stone silent. The reporters seemed to lean forward as one.
“May we approach the bench?” Jennings said quickly.
The judge motioned them forward, which only heightened the tension in the room. And with both lawyers striding toward the bench, there was no human obstruction between Paula and me.
I looked toward her. She looked at me.
For one second our eyes locked. My breath left me. She was so beautiful, even with the exhausted look she had. For a split second I almost felt sorry for her, thought I’d let her off an embarrassed hook by looking away. But steel came back to me, and I knew I was not going to be the one to look away. In fact, I kept right on honing in with my stare until she looked down at her hands.
A minor victory. I felt hollow.
Jennings was motioning wildly in front of the judge. Alex stood by calmly, listening. When the huddle broke, I couldn’t tell from the looks what had happened, who had come out on top.
“Back on the record,” Judge Winger said.
“The question is,” said Alex, “what happened between your leaving the partnership in the spring of 1996 and opening your own office in late September, that interrupted your professional life?”
Sutton Hallard breathed deeply. “I experienced some personal setbacks, and was taking steps to deal with them.”
“By personal setbacks, what do you mean?”
Bryce Jennings was tight lipped. The judge had ruled in our favor. Had to be. Why else was Jennings sitting there like a dumb Buddha?
“I went through a divorce,” Sutton Hallard said, “and was drinking more than I should.”
“You sought treatment for the abuse of alcohol?”
“Yes. But may I add—”
“Thank you. You’ve answered the question.”
“Your Honor, please,” Jennings said. “The witness wishes to expand upon his answer.”
“The question has been answered,” Alex repeated.
“I’ll allow the witness some latitude, just as I’ve allowed you, Ms. Bedrosian.” The judge nodded to Hallard. “You may complete your answer, sir.”
“Thank you.” Hallard assumed a prouder pose. “I have never allowed anything in my personal life to interfere with my professional duties. I have never had any disciplinary action taken against me by the governing boards of my various associations, nor the state of California.”
Good answer, I thought. But Alex had managed to make a good point, too. Was it enough to shoot down this guy’s testimony? That remained to be seen.
Alex grilled Dr. Sutton Hallard for two hours. She attacked every part of his report. She bit into Hallard like a Doberman chomping a mailman’s leg. She was magnificent.
But so was the witness. He fought back hard. It was like the Ali-Frazier fights. One fighter went down, got up, knocked the other guy into the ropes. For fifteen rounds.
Then, somehow, Alex kicked into a higher gear.
“Dr. Hallard, I want to read to you a portion of your report. This is from
page twenty-seven
if counsel wants to refer to it. You state: ‘Madeleine has been reluctant in her responses concerning her father. She expresses that she does not wish to visit with him unattended by a monitor, but that she would prefer there be no visitation.’ Did you write that, sir?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You choose your words carefully, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Every word here is important, because this is a matter of the utmost importance, the future of people’s lives, is it not?”
“I take this all very seriously.”
“But there is a word in here that is not very specific. Negative, yes, but not specific. That word is
reluctant.
It is ambiguous, is it not?”
“Ambiguous?”
“Yes, that means it is open to several nuances of meaning.”
“I know what ambiguous means.” Sutton Hallard looked like the kid on the playground who just got teased for an answer he missed in class. “The word seems clear enough to me.”
“Does it now?” Alex left the podium and approached Hallard. He stiffened. “Do you refuse to answer my questions, sir?”
“No, of course not.”
“Would you rather be back in your office now?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean?”
“Rather than testifying here in court.”
“Well, certainly, all things being equal, who’d rather be grilled by an attorney?”
There was a ripple of laughter in the courtroom.
Alex nodded. “Then I take it there is a degree of reluctance here?”
Hallard narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Did I use the word incorrectly? You just said you’d rather not be
grilled
by an attorney.”
“If you’re going to get technical, sure, you might use the word that way.”
“So there are a number of ways to use that word. That makes its use in your report ambiguous, does it not?”
“I can explain what I meant.”
“I’m not interested in what you mean
now.
You filed a report, you used this word, and you have no facts to back it up. You offer it as an opinion, but there is nothing in this report that explains the basis of that word, is there?”
“I think the report is clear.”
“That’s the problem, Doctor. Your definition of clearness is different than mine.”
Bryce Jennings objected and the judge sustained it, but Alex did not even pause for a breath.
“There is nothing in your report on the basis for Madeleine’s so-called
reluctance,
is there?”
“Her visits with her father,” Hallard snapped back. “She doesn’t want to see him.”
“I asked you about the basis of that opinion, sir.”
“It’s what I picked up from her responses to my questions.”
“Did you include any actual questions and any actual responses in this report?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“You don’t know?”
“No, I did not.”
Alex swept back to the podium and looked briefly at her notes. “Do you recall testifying on direct that it is a frequent occurrence for a party to resort to false charges as a desperate ploy?”
“I believe I said that is likely to happen when one party believes the evidence is mounting against him.”
“And by
him,
you of course mean
him
or
her,
don’t you?”
“Depending on the case. In this case—”
“Thank you. Isn’t it also true that false charges may be made based upon ill feelings alone?”
“That can happen, yes.”
“So if one side bears enough animosity toward another side, this ploy of false allegations may be resorted to.”
“I’ve seen it done.”
“And isn’t it also true that this may be a trial tactic used by overzealous attorneys?”
Bryce Jennings lurched out of his chair. “This is an outrage, Your Honor! If Ms. Bedrosian is accusing me of unethical behavior then I demand the basis for the charge.”
I think Alex’s eyes twinkled. “It is merely a hypothetical, counsel.”
Judge Winger almost laughed, like a parent would at two siblings fighting over the TV. “I’ll allow the witness to answer.”
Hallard seemed surprised. “I cannot speak to that. I don’t interview the attorneys.”
“Lucky for you,” Alex said. “I have one more area I want to discuss with you, Doctor. You have held yourself out as an expert on religion as it relates to mental health, is that right?”
“That’s a somewhat broad description, but yes.”
“And on direct, I believe you used the term
constricting
form of Christianity. Do you recall that?”
“Yes.”
“What did you mean by that word,
constricting?
“Well, I meant to say that Mr. Gillen has accepted the teachings of that wing of Christianity which is very harsh in its treatment of personal expression.”
“Harsh?”
“Yes.”
“Do they use whips?”
“Of course not. I mean they teach a very black-and-white doctrine of right and wrong.”
“That’s terrible,” Alex said. “Imagine that.”
“Objection,” said Jennings. “Argumentative.”
“Sustained.”
Alex acted like she didn’t even notice. “So your assessment of a religion which teaches right and wrong is that it is
harsh?
Sutton Hallard cleared his throat. “It can be, especially for a child. It can become a fearful experience.”
“I see. Tell me, do you agree with the following statement:
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.”
“No, I don’t believe that’s an accurate statement. God should be an object of love, especially for a small child.”
“If I told you that statement came directly from the Bible, what would you say?”
Again Bryce Jennings objected, but Alex was ready. “Your Honor, Mr. Jennings qualified Dr. Hallard as an expert in religious studies. If I wish to explore that subject, he can hardly bring about an objection.”
“My only question would be relevance,” Judge Winger said.
“If you’ll allow me to continue, Your Honor, I expect to show an unprofessional bias in this witness, which calls into question his entire report.”
If this had been a TV movie, the courtroom would have gasped at that point. The silence that followed had almost the same effect. It felt like a ticking bomb had just been placed in the middle of the courtroom.
After what seemed like a ten-minute breath, Winger said, “All right. I’ll let this go a little further.”
Jennings was steamed as he sat down. For the first time I thought he looked a little shaky.
Go Alex!
My lawyer opened the briefcase on her table and took out a leather-bound Bible. She held it like a weapon. Opening it, the pages riffled like little gunshots.
Alex stopped turning the pages. “Please answer the question, Doctor. I just quoted a passage from the Bible for you, the book of wisdom, Proverbs.
Chapter one
, verse seven. Do you disagree with the statement that ‘the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge’?”
“I believe the Bible teaches that God is love,” Hallard said. “How about this passage?”
“I’d have to see it in its context.”
“Do you believe the Bible teaches that it is a sin to have rage?” “That may very well be.”
“So if a person, let’s say Mr. Gillen, believes the Bible to be the Word of God, and believes that rage is a sin, and devoutly tries to overcome that sin, wouldn’t you say that’s a good thing?”
“My opinion is that a person has to deal with who he or she is, and that attempts to sublimate parts of the personality may result in an explosion later on.”
“I believe you said
sublimate
as opposed to
dealing openly with.
Is that right?”
“I don’t recall saying that.”
“Would you like me to have the reporter read the answer back to you?”
“Yes.” Hallard was now openly defiant.
“Your Honor, may I have the reporter read that back?”
The judge said, “All right. The reporter will do a word search for
dealing openly with.”
The reporter, a rotund woman with flying fingers, stood up from her transcribing machine and went to a computer terminal on a table near the judge’s bench. She keyed something in, waited a moment, made a few clicks with a mouse. Then she hit a key and waited. She returned to her station with a piece of paper from a printer.
“The witness gave the following answer,” the reporter said. “‘It is quite common for the sudden adherence to a fundamental religion to result in the subject’s attempt to sublimate, rather than deal openly with, perceived personality problems. In the case of anger, the subject may attempt for a time to keep from expressions of anger and may even be successful in the short term.’”
“Does that refresh your recollection, Dr. Hallard?” Alex asked.
“Yes.”
“And is that still your opinion?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Do you know what Christians mean by confession of sin?” “Of course.”
“It’s something like when clients open up to you in your office, isn’t it?”
I thought I saw Hallard’s cheeks getting rosy. “In some ways, I suppose.”
“Please don’t suppose any more, Doctor. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“And when people tell you intimate things, they are seeking to deal with them openly, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
Alex flipped a few pages in her Bible. “Quoting now from the book of James,
chapter five
, verse sixteen. ‘Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.’ Does that sound like failing to deal openly with problems, sir?”
“Ms. Bedrosian,” Hallard said, “you can quote chapter and verse all day long. What I was concerned with is the actual outworking of this form of Christianity with regard to the child.”
“Just what is that concern? Are you afraid Madeleine might actually come to believe in Christianity?”
“No, that’s not it.”
Alex answered with a shout
.
“Then just what is it, Doctor!”
The whole place seemed to rock back at the sound of her voice. Sutton Hallard looked like a man slapped. And when he jumped back at Alex, I knew she’d gotten him right where she wanted.
“It is the threat of physical harm,” he said. “This type of Christianity believes in corporal punishment of children. I’ve seen it time and time again.”
“Oh, you’re one of the progressive doctors who knows that a spanking can never be good for a child, is that right?”
“Corporal punishment is antithetical to the best interests of the child.”
Alex had a file sitting on the counsel table. She opened it and took out some papers, then put them on the podium. “Are you aware of the study conducted by Dr. Diana Baumrind, a psychologist at the University of California at Berkeley?”
“I have heard of Dr. Baumrind.”
“Do you agree or disagree with her findings, which she summarizes as follows: ‘Occasional spankings do not damage a child’s social or emotional development. These results call into question claims that any physical punishment hurts children psychologically and damages society as a whole.’”
“I happen to disagree.”
“Have you conducted any such study?”
“No. I’ve read several, however.”
Alex looked at her notes. “Have you read ‘Familial and Temperamental Determinants of Aggressive Behavior: A Causal Analysis’?”
“I don’t recollect at this moment.”
“Wherein it was concluded, ‘Childhood aggressiveness has been more closely linked to parental permissiveness and negative criticism than to physical discipline’?”
“I would have to read it.”
“Obviously.”
Jennings’s objection was sustained.
“It is inappropriate to hit a child!” Hallard said.
“Not in the opinion of the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals,” Alex said, pulling out another paper. “You are familiar with the
Calabretta
case, I’m sure.”
“Which one was that?”
“A Christian family that dared to spank a child? And based on an anonymous tip, a social worker showed up with a policeman and forced the mother to pull down a three-year-old child’s pants. Does that refresh your recollection?”
“I think so.”
“What did the court hold, sir?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I’ll read it. ‘A social worker is not entitled to sacrifice a family’s privacy and dignity to her own personal views on how parents ought to discipline their children.’ Do you agree or disagree?”
“In that case, I would have to disagree.”
“Let’s see then. You disagree with the Bible, other psychologists, and the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, is that about it?”
“There are always areas of disagreement in my field.”
“Precisely,” Alex said. “And what you have presented is a onesided, biased report which justifies your personal opinions.”
“Object to the speech, Your Honor,” Jennings said.
“Noted,” the judge said.
Alex flipped to another part of Hallard’s report. “You did not interview Antonio Troncatti, did you?”
The name hit like a balloon popping.
“No, I did not. He is not a party to this action.”
“He is, however, Ms. Montgomery’s live-in boyfriend, is he not?”
“Yes.”
“That didn’t factor into your opinion?”
“That Ms. Montgomery is living with Mr. Troncatti?”
“That Ms. Montgomery is an adulteress, yes.”
Well, you could have set off the fire alarm in the building after that, and no one in the courtroom would have moved. The reporters acted like kids at a birthday party when the piñata erupts. Candy for everybody! Big ol’ pieces, too.
Jennings, of course, put on a show of outrage. But it was Troncatti who became the perfect sideshow. His shout of what I took to be Italian wrath was both pitiful and theatric, sort of a Verdi aria as sung by Jackie Gleason on
The Honeymooners.
His arms were flapping around, like some landlocked crane honking at intruders. I almost laughed.
Judge Winger was not laughing. He was pounding his hand on the bench (he didn’t have a gavel for some odd reason) and shouting, “Enough! Enough!”
Meanwhile, Alex leaned casually at the podium, her arms folded.
Finally, some order was restored. Judge Winger’s face had a slight, crimson glow. “Ms. Bedrosian,” he said, “your use of inflammatory language is not needed.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor,” Alex said, in a way that made me think
contempt of court.
“What word would you have me use? Paramour is a bit dated, don’t you think?”
“You do not need to cast aspersions on the petitioner.”
“Just so I’m clear, Your Honor. You are saying that the fact that Ms. Montgomery is engaged in a sexual relationship outside of her marriage is not of any relevance here?”
“It isn’t to me,” the judge said.
“I want that noted, on the record.”
“It is already on the record. Now move on.”
“Clarification. Does the fact that Ms. Montgomery’s boyfriend has a violent temper have any relevance?”
“Object to that as well,” Jennings said.