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Infliction
Chapter Five – Cross-Examination
‘Thank you, Ms Sidle. No
further questions, Your Honor.’
Sara felt emotionally drained.
She had relieved the entire nightmare; everything from Hank’s murder to her own
kidnapping ordeal. She had tried to imagine she was giving evidence as she
always did. Detached. Scientific. It didn’t work on this occasion. She felt
only raw and broken inside.
She wished that she could get
up and leave the stand now, but answering the DA’s questions had been the easy
part of her testimony. It was now the defense’s turn to question her. And by
the look on Helen Spencer’s face, her cross-examination would be anything but
easy.
‘Ms Sidle, you had a
relationship with the victim, isn’t that right?’ Spencer began.
Having a feeling of where this
was going, Sara took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yes. A few years ago.’
‘While he was in a
relationship with someone else?’
‘I didn’t know that at the
time.’
‘And you were angry when you
found out, weren’t you.’
Yeah, Sara definitely saw
where this was going. ‘I was hurt…’
‘You were angry,’ the lawyer insisted. ‘You said as much in an email to the
accused.’
‘Of course, I was angry. But…’
‘You felt betrayed. This man you thought you were in a relationship with was
not only cheating on you, but he’d
turned you into the other woman.
Didn’t that make you feel cheap? Used? Worthless?’
‘Objection!’ The DA sprang to
his feet. ‘The Defense is baiting the witness.’
‘Sustained. Ms Spencer, please
get to your point,’ the Judge said firmly.
‘Did you wish him harm, Ms
Sidle?’ Spencer had changed tack, lowering her voice, sounding almost
sympathetic.
‘No. I did not.’
‘But my client, your former best friend, received emails from you,
where you stated, and I quote, ‘He
deserves a world of pain, and more. I’d kill him if I thought I could get away
with it.’ But you claim now that you
didn’t wish him harm?’
Sara opened her mouth to
protest, but the DA got there first. ‘Objection Your Honor! There is no
evidence of any such emails having ever existed. They are a figment of the
defendant’s imagination, trying to draw attention away from her guilt.’
‘Sustained. The jury will
disregard the defense’s last statement.’
Sara could feel the anger
bubbling up within her. It didn’t matter that the judge had the bogus emails
stricken from the record. The defense knew that would happen even before
mentioning them. But it didn’t matter. She was throwing everything she could at
Sara, hoping some of the mud would stick; hoping that if she tainted Sara
enough, Jill would look less guilty.
‘You are a criminalist with
the Las Vegas Crime Lab, are you not, Ms Sidle?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘And as such, you are well
versed in what is commonly known as ‘the perfect crime’?’
Another stab of anger. ‘It’s
been my experience that there is no such thing. The evidence never lies.’
‘But that all depends on who’s
doing the interpreting, doesn’t it?’ Spencer smiled ruefully. ‘As a CSI, you
are an expert on evidence such as fingerprints and ballistics, isn’t that
correct?’
‘As much as any other CSI in
the country,’ Sara was finding it difficult to keep the bite out of her voice.
Spencer smiled again, making
her features draw back to resemble something startlingly like a viper. ‘Don’t
be so modest, Ms Sidle. I’ve heard that you are one of the best criminalists in
your lab.’
Sara said nothing, so the
lawyer went on. ‘Isn’t it fair to say, Ms Sidle, that with your level of
expertise in crime scene investigation, it would be all too easy for you to
have falsified evidence in this case?’
The DA bounced to his feet,
another objection on his lips, but Sara had already started to voice one of her
own.
‘No, it wouldn’t be fair to
say that. I had absolutely nothing to do with the evidence in this case. I
wasn’t assigned to it.’
‘But you had access to the
evidence, didn’t you,’ the lawyer wouldn’t let up. ‘It was kept at the lab
where you work, wasn’t it?’
‘But I didn’t have access to
it,’ Sara insisted firmly, becoming more exasperated by the minute. ‘Only the
CSIs assigned to the case had access to the evidence.’
The viper smirked. ‘In that
case, perhaps your boyfriend helped
you out?’
Sara’s eyes narrowed at the
snake before her. It was one thing dragging her name through the muck, but
Grissom…?
‘Excuse me?’ her voice was low
and dangerously calm.
‘You are romantically involved with your boss, Gil Grissom, aren’t you?
The man who headed up the investigation against my client.’
‘I don’t see what that had
to…’
Spencer cut her off. ‘Are you
involved with him? Yes or no, Ms
Sidle.’
Sara felt her heart stop. She
could see a ghost of a smile playing on Jill’s lips at the defense’s table. She
was being hung out to dry and the murdering bitch was enjoying every last
moment of it.
‘Yes. But we weren’t together
at the time of the investigation.’
‘So this newfound romance is
what? Payment in kind for services rendered?’
‘Objection!’ The DA’s face was
turning purple with rage.
‘Sustained!’ The Judge,
clearly growing weary of the defenses tactics, peered over her glasses at the
lawyer. ‘Watch yourself, Ms Spencer.’
Spencer took a step closer to
the bench but angled herself so that she was addressing both the judge and the jury. ‘Your Honor, my client
claims that evidence in this case was falsified, that members of the Las Vegas
Crime Lab set her up in order to protect one of their own. This line of
questioning goes straight to the veracity of the witness.’
The judge sighed. ‘You are on
exceedingly thin icy, Ms Spencer. Watch where you skate.’
Nodding, the lawyer faked a
look of contrition. ‘Just a couple more questions,’ she said, turning back
towards Sara.
‘Ms Sidle, you were in care
for a number of years, were you not?’
Sara furrowed her brow. Now
where was this leading? ‘I was,’ she replied, the trepidation she was feeling
announcing itself via a quaver in her voice.
‘For what reason?’
Sara froze. Surely she didn’t
have to say it… ‘My mother wasn’t able to look after us. My brother and me.’
‘And why was that?’
Sara didn’t answer. Her heart
felt like someone’s fist was wrapped around it, squeezing tightly.
‘Let me put it this way. Where
was your father?’
When Sara still couldn’t
answer, Spencer moved closer to the witness stand. Her voice was quiet,
conspiratorial almost, but loud enough so it carried to the jury’s stand, as
well as the rest of the assembled audience of on-lookers.
‘Isn’t it true, Ms Sidle, that
you were placed in care when your mother stabbed your father to death, right in
front of you?’
A collective gasp filled the
room, as though all the air had suddenly been sucked out. In the vacuum, no one
made a sound. Sara could feel countless pairs of eyes boring into her, waiting
for her to answer. Echoes of her nightmares, of the reality of the horrific
event she had witnessed as a child, of the vicious lawyer’s words, all rang
through her mind. She felt like they were all pushing in on her, crushing her
chest, making it impossible to breathe.
Through the ringing in her
ears, she could barely hear Spencer speaking to the judge. ‘Your Honor?’
‘Ms Sidle,’ the Judge’s voice
broke through her haze. ‘Please answer the question.’
‘Yes.’ The voice didn’t sound
like her own. It sounded far away and very small. Not strong and independent,
like the persona she had fought long and hard to create for herself. To her own
ears, Sara suddenly sounded like a victim.
‘An event like that… it’s
bound to have a profound effect on a person,’ Spencer was now saying. ‘You
certainly learned at an early age how to deal with men who hurt you…’
‘Objection!’ the DA finally
jumped to Sara’s defense.
‘Get to your point, Ms Spencer,’
the Judge insisted. And Spencer did just that.
‘Your DNA was found at the
crime scene. Your fingerprint. Your car was videotaped at the scene at the time
of the crime. As was a person matching your description. Your gun was the
murder weapon. Your philandering ex-boyfriend was the victim. Do you really expect this jury to believe that
you had nothing to do with the
murder?’
‘Yes. Because I had nothing to do with it,’ Sara replied.
Sara’s temper was getting the better of her now and she started doing what the
DA had warned her against. Talking back… ‘If I’m an expert criminalist, as you stated, would I really have used my own
gun, my own car, been as sloppy to have left evidence?’
Playing to the jury now, and
looking like she was thoroughly enjoying herself, Spencer shrugged. ‘Maybe you
were counting on that as your alibi. Preparing to say ‘it couldn’t have been
me; I would have covered my tracks better’…’
‘Objection! The witness is not the one on trial here!’
‘Maybe she should be,’ Spencer
ploughed on, in her groove now, ignoring a steady stream of objections from the
DA. ‘I put it to you, Ms Sidle, that you were not a helpless victim in this,
not even a willing accomplice, but the orchestrator of the murder. You were not
kidnapped by my client, but were having a heated exchange with her at the
murder scene. And only when you told her you were setting her up to take the
fall for the crime you committed,
only then did she threaten you with violence.’
Sara’s temper snapped. ‘That’s
bullshit! She tried to set me up, and
then she tried to kill me!’
‘Objection Your Honor! This is
outrageous!’
‘Sustained! Ms Spencer, one
more outburst like that and I’ll find you in contempt.’
Spencer smiled. She had said
all she wanted to say. ‘No more questions, Your Honor.’ She threw a look of
contempt at Sara. ‘I’m done with this witness.’
The DA was on his feet before
the defense attorney has even made it back to her chair.
‘Redirect, Your Honor?’ he
asked, moving forward. Without waiting for reply, his eyes locked on Sara’s.
‘Ms Sidle. Did you conspire with Jill Davenport to murder Hank Pettigrew?’
Without hesitation, Sara
replied firmly. ‘No. I did not.’
‘And did Jill Davenport attack
you, kidnap and threaten you? Did she take you to the site of her previous
murder, tie you to a chair and try to kill you?’
Her eyes now locked on Jill’s,
who looked almost triumphant as she sat watching the testimony. I will not let her win, Sara thought as
she responded to the DA’s question. ‘Yes. She did.’
---
As Sara stormed through the
doors of the courthouse, the first sight that greeted her was the sympathetic
look in Warrick Brown’s eyes. Her fury at what she had just been subjected to
was temporarily replaced with gut wrenching humiliation, as she realized that
her colleague and friend had just heard everything. Everything she had tried to
keep hidden for so long. And she wished that she had been firmer in her
insistence that she didn’t need anyone to accompany her to the courthouse that
day.
Grissom had wanted to come, of
course, but the DA advised against it. He was due to testify the next day – the
defense might try to make it look like witness tampering if he accompanied Sara
before giving his own testimony.
Since Warrick had already
testified, he volunteered for the job.
‘I don’t need to be baby-sat,’
she had insisted to Grissom.
‘I know. But Warrick’s happy
to go with you. He offered. And it’s not baby-sitting. It’s support. Please.
I’d feel better knowing that someone
was with you.’
So she’d relented. And now it
was coming back to haunt her.
Warrick seemed
uncharacteristically nervous as Sara approached him. Without pausing, she
headed towards the exit, adjusting her speed to allow her friend to fall into
step with her.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked
hesitantly.
‘Sure,’ she replied, for all
her efforts not keeping the sarcastic bite out of her voice. ‘Just peachy.’
‘God damn lawyers,’ he spat.
‘That was an ink job, that’s what that was. Just ink in the water. Knows her
client is as guilty as sin, so she’s trying to churn up as much crap to hide
that fact. Don’t let it get to you, girl.’
Sara’s jaw was clenched, the
anger at the injustice of it all preventing her from replying.
‘Sara. If you want to talk,
or…’
They’d reached the car and
from the look in Warrick’s eyes, Sara could tell that he only wanted to help.
But she couldn’t hear it right now. Couldn’t talk about it. She just felt sick
to her stomach.
‘Warrick…’
‘Sara, I know you jive on
being this strong woman who doesn’t need anyone. But, we’re here for you…’
For the second time that day,
Sara felt like a victim and the anger that this churned up inside her
threatened to unleash itself upon her unsuspecting friend. He’s only trying to help, she told herself. He’s not the one you’re mad at. So she took a deep breath and
swallowed the sharp words that had been ready on her tongue.
‘Warrick, I know. And I
appreciate it. I do. Really.’ Another deep breath. ‘But I can’t talk about this right now. I just want to get to work. Okay?’
He looked like there was a
whole lot more he wanted to say, but instead he simply nodded and climbed into
the driver’s seat of the SUV.
---
Catherine was on her cell
phone as Warrick and Sara entered the break room.
‘Whoa, Jim, slow down,’ she
said. ‘Where’s Grissom? --- Oh --- I know, I know, it can’t wait. But I’m on my way out the door to a double homicide off
the Strip and I need to take Warrick with me. --- Its Nick’s night off...’
Sara caught Catherine’s eye
and mouthed ‘What is it?’ to the
strawberry blonde CSI. ‘Kidnapping’
Catherine mouthed back while still listening to Brass.
‘I’ll take it,’ Sara
announced.
Relieved, Catherine
practically sighed down the phone. ‘Sara will meet you there,’ she told the
police Captain before disconnecting the call.
Turning to the brunette in
front of her, Catherine smiled warmly. ‘Hey. Welcome back. How’d court…’
‘Don’t ask,’ Sara cut her off,
gesturing towards the notebook in which Catherine had been writing down the
details Jim has passed on. ‘Where am I meeting Brass?’
‘
Sara’s face became a mask at
the mention of the 417 – a domestic abuse case. Today of all days.
‘Brass has already spoken to
Grissom. He’s at another scene, but he’ll be in
‘Thanks. Later.’
Ignoring Warrick’s worried
look, she practically ran out of the room.
---
Brass looked grave when he met
Sara at the scene.
‘We were out here a week ago.
Domestic abuse. Wife finally saw sense after who knows how many years and was
granted a TRO against her husband, Mike Harper, six days ago. About an hour
ago, she was in the kitchen fixing dinner when she heard the front door being
smashed in. Ran into the living room and found her husband grabbing the kids.
He smashed the place up pretty good, hit her a couple of times for good measure
and took off with the little girl and boy, Jane aged 9 and Mikey, 7.’
‘And Mrs. Harper? How’s she?’
‘Banged up, but in one piece,
considering. She called us within moments of her ex running off, so he doesn’t
have too big a head start. We’ve got a BOLO out on his car. Nothing yet.’
They’d reached the front door,
which stood ajar. Through it, she could see a sobbing woman, battered and
shaking. It was an all too familiar sight.
Taking a deep breath, Sara
went inside.
---
The scene in the living room
was chaos. Furniture was overturned; broken glass littered the carpeted floor…
Rage, Sara thought inwardly. Uncontrolled rage.
As she shot off picture after
picture of scene photographs, she could hear the mother sobbing in the kitchen.
Paramedics had already been to check her over. Mild concussion, bruising, a few
cuts. She had gotten off lightly - this time. She refused point blank to go to
the hospital for a more thorough examination. She wanted to be here, hoping
that it would all be put right and her children would be returned to her.
Half an hour later, she’d
photographed the scene, lifted a few fingerprints from the door handle and the
overturned furniture and bagged her evidence, which included a book of matches
for a bar called The Cue Ball. Intent
on asking Mrs. Harper about it, she made her way into the kitchen where Brass
was still interviewing her.
‘So go over the last time you
saw your husband for me,’ Brass was saying. ‘Prior to today.’
‘It was last week. Right
before I called the police,’ the woman sniffled. ‘He kept on beating me until
he heard the sirens. Then he ran off. I hadn’t seen him until he showed up here
and started smashing the place.’
‘Any idea where he was staying
this past week?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t
know.’
‘How about the other times
that he left after the beatings? Do you know where he stayed then?’
‘He would normally only leave
for one night,’ she said, shaking her head again, her voice thick with pain.
‘Then he’d come back here until he beat me again.’
Sara stood listening to this
from just inside the kitchen door. The sight of the woman, sobbing and bruised
at the kitchen table, reminded her forcefully of her own past, and she felt the
anger building in her once more.
‘How could you stay?’
The words were out of her
mouth before she’d even stopped to consider them.
The woman looked up at her
with bloodshot and tear-stained eyes, confused. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘How could you stay here, with
a man who beat you? Terrorized you in front of your children? How could you do
that to them?’
Brass’s eyes were like
saucers. ‘Sara,’ he warned.
But Sara couldn’t let it go.
She was becoming angrier and more upset with every second that ticked by. ‘Your
children depend on you to protect
them. How could you subject them to living with that monster day after day?’
‘Sara! That’s enough!’
She turned to see Grissom in
the doorway, shocked and angry.
---
Sara made her way into her
apartment and slumped down on the couch, utterly disgusted with herself. She
couldn’t believe she’d lost her temper with a victim. She’d done it before with
suspects, but even when she knew it was a bad move on her part, she had still
felt justified. But now she just felt… sick.
Grissom’s appearance at the
house had snapped her back to her senses. Turning to the stricken mother, she
had stammered an apology before leaving the house, Grissom hot on her heels.
He’d sent her home after
voicing his concern over her tendency to become too emotionally involved in her
cases. He asked if something had happened in court that day to set her off. She
promised to tell him after the shift end.
So now she sat in her living
room, counting down the minutes until he’d be at her door, fighting nausea and
trying to find the words she needed him to hear.
When he appeared at her door
in the cold light of dawn, the anger had all but evaporated from his features.
It had been replaced by an overwhelming concern for her that broken her heart.
She had never wanted him to worry about her. She had never wanted anyone to
worry about her.
He crossed the threshold into
her apartment, but didn’t touch her. He sensed the distance that was radiating
off her like a white-hot star. Physical intimacy would only make this
discussion harder. There would be time for him to hold and comfort her later.
She moved round behind an easy chair, putting the piece of furniture in between
them as if to emphasis the point.
‘Mrs. Harper has accepted your
apology and she’s not going to lodge a complaint,’ he finally said after a
deafening silence. ‘But, you’ve got to realize, if this had happened in front
of anyone other than me and Brass… if Ecklie had caught wind of it, he would
have made me suspend you.’
‘I know,’ she whispered.
‘Sara, I know I said you
should wait until you were ready to talk about this,’ he told her. ‘But it’s
affecting your work. It’s affecting you.
I think… I think you need to talk
about this.’
Even from across the room, he
could see she was shaking. She looked away from him and nodded.
‘Why are you so angry?’
---
Catherine and Warrick were
just coming off of shift and wearily gathering their belongings in the locker
room when Greg stormed in.
‘Have you guys seen this
morning’s paper yet?’ he asked them angrily.
They were both nonplussed.
‘No,’ Catherine replied. ‘Why?’
As if it was a piece of filth,
Greg slapped the newspaper down on the bench between the two CSIs so they could
see the headline and the damning article that ran with it.
“Key Witness in Murder Trial Discredited:
Crime
Scene Investigator Sara Sidle’s credibility was questioned in court today as
information came to light about her troubled past.
Not
only was Sidle the former lover of the murder victim, EMT Hank Pettigrew, but
it also immerged during cross-examination that, as a child, she witnessed the
murder of her father – by her own mother.”
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