Presumed Guilty (19 page)

“Tonight, an exclusive. The first interview with Dallas Hamilton, wife of Ron Hamilton, the minister accused of murdering Melinda Chance at the Star Motel. She speaks out publicly for the first time on
Hank Dunaway Tonight
.”

Dunaway’s trademark theme music — synthesized trumpets with a military air — played. And Dallas tried to swallow. Her throat was dead dry.

But she knew Dunaway was a master at putting people at ease. She hoped he was on his game tonight.
Dunaway looked into the camera.
“Ron Hamilton, a minister from Los Angeles, sits in jail tonight awaiting trial on a murder charge. The case has been all over the news since his arrest two months ago. But no one has heard from Ron Hamilton’s wife, Dallas. Until tonight.”
He looked at her now, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “How have you been holding up the last few weeks?”
She forced a smile. “Holding. Thanks.”
“Where were you when your husband was arrested?”
“In my bedroom.”
“What were you thinking when it happened?”
“That there had to be some mistake.”
“And when you found out it wasn’t a mistake, how did you feel?”
She thought a moment. “A two-by-four to the head.”
“You hired a lawyer?”
“Jefferson Waite, yes.”
“And the trial has been set for August?”
“Yes.”
“You have children?”
“Two.”

“How are they taking it?”
Dallas blinked. “Different reactions.”
“How old are they?”
“My daughter is twenty-seven. My son is twenty-four.” Dunaway glanced at a sheet of paper in front of him. “I understand you had an incident in your home last week.”

For a moment Dunaway seemed taken aback. But he kept his cool. “You knew the man?”
“He was someone I was involved with when I was a teenager. An abuser. He apparently thought he could use my trouble to his advantage. I hope the police will discuss that with him soon. He has threatened to go to the press with some sordid stories about me and claims to have photographs of me when I was with him, doing things. He wanted to extort money from me in return for his not giving the photos to the press. Well, I have a message for him. He’s not going to get a thing from me, ever. What I did thirty years ago is over. I was not a Christian then. I am now, and whatever I did has been forgiven and forgotten by God.”
Dunaway paused for what seemed like dramatic effect, then announced a commercial break.
“You’re doing fine,” he told her during the break. “You feeling all right?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” And she was. It was cathartic, finally being able to talk.
When they started up again, Dunaway asked, “When was the last time you saw Ron?”
“I don’t remember the date.”
“You haven’t been talking to the press. What prompted you to come forward now?”
This was the moment. “I wanted to talk about the bigger picture here, the bigger problem. And that is the pornography business in this city, in this country. That, I believe, is behind what’s going on.”
“Behind the murder of Melinda Chance?”
“She was a porn actress. She was employed by a pornographer named Vic Lu. How he and his ilk are allowed to operate I don’t know. Prostitution is illegal, but this kind of filmed prostitution is not. It doesn’t make sense, it’s wrong, and it has to be stopped.”
“Your husband wrote an antipornography book, didn’t he?”
“Right.”
“So you can’t blame the press for picking up on that angle.”
“I’m beyond blaming the press. They follow what sells. I’m more concerned about the blight of pornography in our communities, and what it does even beyond the people who make it and the people who buy it.”
“What do you mean, beyond?”
“I believe there is a spiritual component to this, Hank. Evil is real, and it emanates.”
“You’re not calling people who buy adult videos evil, are you?”
“They’re playing with a fire they don’t understand.”
“But evil?”
“Hank, I believe evil is real. Don’t you?”
Dunaway raised his eyebrows. “Some TV critics maybe.”
“I wouldn’t disagree, but I also think the truth goes deeper than that.”
“You said you’re a Christian.”
“That’s right.”
“What would you say to people who reject your views as merely personal and religious?”
She relaxed a little more. She and Ron had discussed this objection many times. “We’re all citizens, and we can all look at our society and see if it’s the kind we want to live in. And a society that condones pornography by labeling it ‘adult entertainment,’ that turns a blind eye to the garbage that keeps pouring out, that’s not the kind of place I want to leave to our children and grandchildren.”
“What can anyone do about it?”
“Get mad, for one thing. Quit sitting on the sidelines about it. And get involved. Get in line with good politicians like Bernie Halstrom, and tell them your concerns.”
“Bernie Halstrom is in the studio with us tonight.”
“Yes, he is. He is one of the few politicians who actually puts action behind his words. I heard someone say that evil wins when good people do nothing. Let’s all do something and maybe we can start to get rid of the flesh merchants.”
“We’ll be right back,” Dunaway said to the camera.

The wind was whipping up dust in the Chatsworth hills. It was funny, pitching a tent up here. Jared had pitched camp in a lot of places, but not within a rock’s throw of the 118 freeway.

Down below, the lights of the San Fernando Valley started to blink into life. In the tent, Jamaal slept soundly on top of a sleeping bag. Jared could only imagine what the kid had probably been through.

“It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” Tiana said. She and Jared sat on the dirt, looking into the Valley.
“I guess.”
“Why are you doing this for Jamaal and me?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want you to get hurt anymore. I don’t want you going back to that guy.”
“I don’t know why I even went back in the first place,” she said.
“Hey, we’re all dumb in some way. I don’t know why I do most of the things I do either.”
“I’m scared though.”
“What of?”
“Taking care of Jamaal. I’ve got no way to make money.”
“Everybody can do something.”
“I’m not talking about working at McDonald’s. I can do that. But that’s not going to be enough for Jamaal.”
“You love him, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“That’s the most important thing.” He thought of his own mother then, the way she always stood by him. Was he doing the right thing by going away now?
“What do you like to do most in the world?” Jared asked.
“I don’t really know.”
“Well, think about it this way: When you were twelve years old or so, what was your favorite thing?”
She grew quiet for a long time. “I guess I liked to make pretty things. Didn’t have much around, but I was always trying to make things look nice. I remember once I had this dress, the one I wore to church whenever my mom took me, and I found some tinsel in a trash can, you know the kind you put on Christmas trees?”
“Yeah.”
“And I took it and I took some of my mom’s sewing stuff and I sewed this tinsel onto my dress. A whole bunch of it. I wanted it to look like the kind of dress I saw on TV when the movie stars’d go out and be all glamorous. When my mom saw it she about fainted. But she let me wear it to church.”
Jared could hear the cars on the 118, a steady rush like a river flowing. “Maybe you can make things pretty again. I think there’s got to be a place for that in this world.”
Tiana said nothing.
“What happened to your mom?” Jared asked.
“Died when I was fifteen.”
“How?”
“Homeboys shot up the wrong place.”
Jared shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Tiana put her arms across her chest. “It’s getting cold.”
“We’re gonna have to huddle up in there.” Jared nodded toward the tent. “Hope you don’t mind.” Then he added, “You can trust me.”
“Hope so. ’Cause I’ve had enough of the bad stuff.”
Bad stuff.
Jared closed his eyes. For this brief moment the bad seemed miles away. Down there, in the Valley. Along the freeway corridor, where angry drivers hunched over wheels. In the neighborhoods, where tempers flared and guns went off. The bad stuff was all out there in this moment, not here with the air and boulders and brush, and the three of them together.
He would not be the one to hurt them. As far as he could help it, he would not be the one.

“You were terrific,” Bernie Halstrom said as they pulled out of the studio on Fairfax where the Hank Dunaway show was broadcast. Dallas had met him at his office, and Bernie had brought her to the studio in his Town Car, complete with driver. She didn’t turn down the luxury. It was nice to be taken care of.

“Might have to hire you to be my personal PR maven,” Bernie added.
Tired but wired from the interview, Dallas said, “Maybe I’ll take you up on it.”
“Anytime. I want to tell you I think you’ve got tremendous courage. I don’t know many women as strong as you, Dallas.”
“I’m running on fumes here.”
“No, you did great.”
“Thank you for setting it up.”
“Hank’s an old friend.” Bernie looked at her. “And a good one to have on your side.”
“I need all the help I can get.”
“Have you heard from Jared?”
“One message. To tell me he’s all right.” But he wasn’t all right. He’d skipped his DUI appearance, and Jeff said he was now subject to arrest.
She leaned back against the headrest and agonized silently.
How long, Lord, before you answer my prayers? I’m worn out.
“How about a bite to eat?” Bernie said.
“No, thanks. Being on TV takes something out of you. How do you do it?”
“I went to Ireland last year and kissed the Blarney Stone.”
“Really?”
“No. But it’s a good story.”
He let the ride continue in silence, which was nice. Dallas closed her eyes. She prayed for Jared then and thought of Ron and Jared together. Reconciled. No matter where they ended up individually, they were father and son after all. They needed each other.
Her thoughts drifted back to happier times, which seemed a century ago. The four of them, the whole family, at Disneyland. Cara was healthy again and Jared had not yet lapsed into sullenness. They all got soaked on Splash Mountain, but Ron and Jared got the worst of it, and they laughed and hugged each other, a couple of soggy maniacs —
“What’s the matter?” Bernie Halstrom’s voice, directed to his driver, Derek, jerked Dallas to the present.
Derek had stopped short of the lot. “There’s somebody standing there.”
Dallas looked out the front window. Illuminated by the headlights, a man stood in the middle of the drive. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.
“Shall I back away?” Derek said.
“Wait a second.” Bernie leaned forward. “No. I know who that is.” He turned to Dallas. “How would you like to meet Vic Lu?”

Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.
Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.
Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part thou shalt make me know wisdom.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Make me hear joy and gladness, that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.
Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from thy presence, and take not thy holy Spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with a free spirit.
Then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted unto thee.
Amen.

Vic Lu had an exotic look, what Dallas thought used to be called Eurasian. His black hair was nearly shoulder length and slicked back. His casual clothes could have been worn by any number of beach-loving, laid-back Angelenos.

In his midthirties, he didn’t look like the multimillionaire the reports said he was.
“I caught the show tonight,” Lu said. “Man, I’m being hammered here.” He smiled. His teeth were white, perfect.
The three of them were in Bernie Halstrom’s office and, for all Dallas knew, alone in the government building.
“Is that what you came to tell me?” Bernie said. “That you’re a Hank Dunaway fan?”
“Bernie, I’m right up the street here. We’re neighbors. We never talk. I heard Mrs. Hamilton say you were at the studio with her. I figured you’d come back here. I didn’t know Mrs. Hamilton would be with you. That’s what you call a bonus.”
“What is it you have to say?” Bernie said.
“That I’m not the bad guy here, all right?” He looked at Dallas. “Mrs. Hamilton, all I’m doing is making a living, okay? Just like anybody else.”
“The flesh trade is not a living, is it?” she said.
“I’m in business. I’m a working man, all right? I came over here fifteen years ago, no money, no nothing. I used to clean up the bathrooms at the bus station downtown. You know what that’s like? You have no idea. But I did it because I needed a job, and you know what? That’s the best I could do at the time. I don’t even have a high school diploma. I read books alone at night, trying to figure out how to better myself.”
Bernie said, “Lots of people work their way up and don’t go into your business.”
“My business is legal, Bernie. I want to remind you of that. LookyLu may not be MGM, but it’s legit. I know you’re trying to do your thing, your political thing, and I accept that. But right now I’m as legal as the Ford dealer on Topanga. And I treat my actors like royalty. They get the best pay in the business, the best medical, the best HIV tests. I’m not twisting any arms to get them to be in my movies. And if I didn’t hire them, they’d be working for some other dude who doesn’t care half as much as I do.”
“But it’s what they
do
,” Dallas blurted, unable to stop herself. “It’s . . .”
“Indecent?”
“That’s a nice word for it.”
“Sinful?”
“Yes.”
“I know you’ve got religious beliefs, and I respect them. I really do. I believe in America. I believe in freedom of religion. And if a guy doesn’t have religion, he’s free too. And as long as he obeys the law, he’s allowed to run a business. Bernie, tell her I’m legitimate, will you?”
Bernie allowed his desk chair to swivel. “That’s not a word I prefer to use.”
“Then at least stop the personal stuff,” Lu said, looking at Dallas.
“I have the right to speak, just as you have the right to make pornography.”
“Come on, Mrs. Hamilton,” Lu said, spreading his hands wide. “What I’m doing is legal. What you’re doing is a personal attack. Is that what Jesus would do, Mrs. Hamilton?”
“Let’s not bring Jesus into this,” Bernie said.
“Why not? She has.”
He was right, of course. “All right,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to change the laws.”
“Fair enough,” Vic Lu said. “That’s America too.” He stood up. “I know you don’t approve of me, Mrs. Hamilton, and I respect that. I respect the right of people to disagree. I also have feelings involved in this.”
“Feelings?” Bernie said. He remained seated.
“Melinda Chance, she was one of my girls. Now she’s dead. I’ve had a death in the family. Can you understand that, Mrs. Hamilton?”
She hadn’t thought of it that way before, that he could in any way be running anything even remotely like a family. But in his world, maybe that’s all the family he had.
“I’m sorry for what happened to her,” Dallas said. “That shouldn’t happen to anybody.”
“I’m sorry it was your husband who did it,” Lu said. “I know that must be very hard to take.”
“Let me remind you,” said Bernie, “that another one of America’s better assets is the presumption of innocence. We have a trial to determine guilt.”
Lu nodded almost imperceptibly. “Point taken. And I’ve taken up too much of your time. I’m glad we had this little chat.”