Accused: A Rosato & Associates Novel (18 page)

“Did you ever know Fiona to babysit for Allegra?”

Gage cocked his head, thinking. “You mean like babysit for Allegra when her parents went out?”

“Yes, or any other time. When you were dating Fiona, did she ever babysit for Allegra?”

“No, not at all.”

Mary didn’t say anything, dismayed.

Judy asked, “You never went over to visit Fiona when she was babysitting for Allegra?”

“No, I never did. I don’t remember her babysitting for Allegra, and they had a housekeeper, so I assume she’d do it, if Allegra needed to be babysat.”

Mary remembered Allegra had mentioned that. “What’s the housekeeper’s name?”

“Janet Wolsey. She still works for them.”

Judy slid her pad into her leather satchel. “That’s all the questions we have.” She looked over at Mary. “Unless you have anything else.”

“No,” Mary said, rising. “Thank you for your time.”

Tim stood, brushing down his jeans. “You’re welcome, it was a pleasure to meet you both. I’ll walk you out.”

“Great, thanks,” Judy said, and they walked with Gage to the door, where they bade him good-bye again, then left and stood blinking in the sun on Locust Walk, which was more crowded, now that the school and work day was over. Judy turned to Mary, squinting against the sun. “Is he crossed off the suspect list? I say yes.”

“Yes, but I wish we could check out his alibi. He said she broke up with him, and you had to ask him twice.”

“There’s only one friend left to go see. It’s so sad about that crash, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and as far as Hannah Wicker, we’ll have to find out where she lives.” Mary eyed Judy. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s connected, can you?”

“Don’t know how, or why, except that Fiona was the leader and they were all a little lost without her.”

“We’ll see, I guess.” Mary slid her BlackBerry from her pocket to see if Allegra had emailed her back, but she hadn’t. “Still no email from our girl. Let’s call her.”

“Okay.”

Mary made a beeline for the nearest bench, where they sat down, and she called Allegra on her secret cell phone. The call was answered in the middle of the first ring, but Allegra sounded hysterical.

“Mary? Mary, thank God, is that you?”

“What’s the matter?” Mary felt fear going through her like an electrical bolt.

“My parents! They’re taking me to a hospital! They’re going to commit me! Mary? Mary!”

“Allegra!” Mary shouted in anguish, as the line went dead.

Chapter Twenty

“Do you
believe
the Gardners?” Mary asked Judy, as they hustled toward Walnut Street. The crowd flowed around them, students heading for the Quad, runners in red-and-blue singlets jogging toward Franklin Field, and Penn and Drexel employees burdened with briefcases and messenger bags, heading for trains and buses out of the city. “They’d commit their own daughter? The poor kid! She sounded so scared.”

“Not going to lie, I didn’t see this coming.” Judy raised her hand to hail a cab before they’d even reached the curb, and the few in the congested lanes of traffic all looked full. “Damn.”

“What do we even do?” Mary pumped her hand wildly, even though she knew it was useless. She felt overwhelmed with guilt, and not even the funny kind. “We go out there, right? We see where they took her and why?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?” Mary looked at her, surprised. Her heart was pounding under her blouse, and she’d broken a sweat. “Don’t you want to see what’s going on?”

“Of course, but we have to stay calm, and by we, I mean you.” Judy frowned at the traffic, keeping her hand in the air.

“There’s a cab!” Mary waved to the driver, and they both hustled toward the Yellow cab as it pulled over.

“Right behind you,” Judy said, and the women flung open the door, jumped inside, and yanked their purses and bags onto their laps. Judy leaned forward and said to the driver, “1815 Locust Street, please.”

“You really want to go back to the office?” Mary frowned as the cab lurched off, then stopped again in traffic. The backseat smelled like Marlboros and Armor-All, which was par for Philly. “Why don’t we just go get my car?”

“I want to know the law, I’m not sure I can figure it out on the fly.”

“The law? The law is clear, isn’t it? Allegra has constitutional rights, doesn’t she?” Mary was trying to control her outrage, but it wasn’t easy. “You just can’t take somebody and put them in a mental hospital because you disagree with what they’re doing.”

“Maybe you can, if she’s a minor.”

“If that’s true, then this is one of the times that the law is an ass.”

“Mare, chill.” Judy raised a palm. “These are her parents, and they love her. They think they’re doing the right thing for their kid, who has a history of depression.”

“But
committing
her? That’s kind of extreme.”

“If she needs the help, it isn’t. We don’t have all the facts.”

“Then ask yourself this—why now? She’s been home for almost a month, but
now
they decided to put her away?” Mary felt a new wave of anger. The cab wasn’t making forward progress, which didn’t help, and she heard honking behind them. “We didn’t drop the case, so they pulled out the trump card. It’s like a chess game, and they just took the queen.”

“You’re mixing metaphors.”

“Sue me.” Mary thought a minute, simmering. “Generally the law is that you can’t be civilly committed unless you’re a danger to yourself or others. Allegra is neither.”

“But mental health law is a specialized field, I know. I edited an article on it for our law review.”

“What was the gist?”

“That was ages ago and under California law, I’m not sure what Pennsylvania law is. There has to be a statute. Stand by.” Judy reached into her purse, pulled out her iPhone, and started tapping the touch screen. “Look at me, reduced to Googling ‘Mental Health Act and minors in Pennsylvania.’ Legal research isn’t supposed to be this easy.”

“Whatever works.” Mary slid her hand in her blazer pocket, pulled out her BlackBerry, and scrolled through the phone log until she reached John Gardner, then pressed Call. “I’m calling her father. He called me, and his cell number is still in the phone. I want to know what’s going on and tell him we’re not going to let him do this to her.”

“Mary, hang on a sec.” Judy kept pressing buttons on her iPhone, frowning at the small screen. “We don’t know her legal rights yet.”

“Then I’ll just yell at him, like Bennie would have.” Mary cheered at the very notion. She was turning into a badass before her own eyes. Maybe it had been in her all along, if she had somebody like Allegra to fight for. “You know what they say, ‘When you have the law, argue the law. When you have the facts, argue the facts. When you don’t have either, pound the table.’”

Judy laughed, surprised. “You’re on fire, girl.”

“You’re damn right I am. John Gardner is a bully, and he’s bullying his own daughter.” Mary listened to the call ringing in her ear. “I bet he doesn’t pick up, the coward.”

“Hey, he’s represented by Patel. We’re supposed to call Patel.”

“Ask me if I care. Allegra is our client. Did he pick up a phone to call us?” Mary felt her blood pounding in her temples. “What did they do to that poor kid, anyway? Did they handcuff her? Put her in a straitjacket? That’s appalling.”

Judy didn’t look up. “If he doesn’t answer, leave a nice message. Remember, you’re a professional.”

“What were they thinking?” Mary gritted her teeth as the call kept ringing. “She’s trying to get answers to some questions she’s been wondering about for a long time, her own sister’s murder. Isn’t she entitled to that?”

“Evidently, no.” Judy looked up from her iPhone screen with a frown. “Something called Act 147 establishes the statutory rights for minors and parents to mental health treatment in Pennsylvania.”

“Okay. Wait. Hold on, I’ll put it on speaker.” Mary pressed the button for the speakerphone, and they both listened as the call stopped ringing and John Gardner’s voice came on saying curtly, “John Gardner, Gardner Group, please leave a message.”

Judy’s eyes flared, a calming blue. “Be nice,” she whispered.

Mary cleared her throat when she heard the click, then said, “John, this is Mary DiNunzio and Judy Carrier, calling about Allegra’s whereabouts. She’s our client, and she has a right to speak with us. Please give me a call immediately at this number. Thanks so much.”

“Nice job, because the law is not on our side.” Judy read from her screen while Mary hung up. “Under Section1.1(b), the parent of a minor under 18 may consent to inpatient treatment on the recommendation of a physician who has examined the minor. The minor’s consent is not necessary.”

“Really?” Mary asked, aghast. She was about to put her phone away when she noticed that she had missed two calls and a text from Anthony. She didn’t have time to listen to the messages, but scrolled automatically to the text, which read,
can you come for drinks tonight with my colleagues?
She groaned. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?”

“Anthony wants me to celebrate tonight with his friends.”

“Oh how horrible. What a pain. Who does he think he is, your future husband?”

“Very funny.” Mary felt a guilty twinge, but texted quickly
, sorry, have to work. Will explain later.
She hit Send. “Now what were you saying about the statute?”

“It’s evidently a change in the law. The parent can consent for the minor, which defines ‘consent’ out of existence as far as a minor is concerned, if you ask me. The parents have all the cards.”

Mary’s thoughts raced ahead. “So what rights does Allegra have? She has to have some.”

“Under Section 1.1(b)(7), at the time of admission, they have to explain the nature of her treatment and the right to object to treatment, by filing a petition with the court.” Judy’s tone took on her characteristic professorial bent. “If the minor wishes to object, the director of the hospital has to give her a form to provide notice for the request for withdrawal from treatment.”

“Who does she have to file it with?”

“The Court of Common Pleas.”

Mary thought a minute, because like many legal issues, it only raised more issues. Lawyers loved to argue about everything, even the argument itself. “But which Court of Common Pleas? I assume where the hospital is located, right?”

Judy nodded. “Probably, so we have to figure out where the hospital is.”

“When does she have to file it?”

“Forthwith.”

“Terrific.” Mary looked outside the cab, where traffic was bumper to bumper. “Somebody needs to tell that to rush hour. Forthwith isn’t happening.”

“It’s Wednesday, so I think we have to do it tomorrow or Friday, at least.” Judy’s eyes darted back and forth as she read her the screen. “This is interesting. It says that minors from fourteen to seventeen years old have the right to object to treatment, but Allegra’s thirteen.” She looked up, cocking her head. “The statute doesn’t seem to address what rights thirteen-year-olds have, if any.”

“We’ll find out when we file an objection to treatment.”

“Hold your horses, partner.” Judy returned to her reading. “Under Section 8, the court will appoint an attorney for the minor, assuming she doesn’t have one.” She looked up, her eyes narrowing in thought. “I remember most of these commitment issues involve people who are homeless or wards of the state. Allegra is an unusual case, because she’s neither of those things, and it cuts against her.”

“How?” Mary’s phone chimed to signal a text coming in, and she scrolled to check it. It was from Anthony, saying,
can you do Friday night? They say they can all do Friday night.

“Your pesky fiancé again? Sext him back.”

“And record my cellulite forever?” Mary texted back,
I don’t know for sure. Can I tell you tomorrow?
She hit Send and slipped the phone back into her blazer pocket, so she could concentrate. Every time she tried to multitask, she messed up all the tasks, and she had learned she wasn’t good at multi.

“Anyway, it’s easy to see how this would work in Allegra’s case.”

“How would that work?” Mary was trying to get back on track.

“I mean, I can see how it wouldn’t be hard to have Allegra committed, given the resources of the family. The Gardners have the means to get her to a first-rate, really expensive therapist, who diagnoses her, and is very willing to please her wealthy and powerful parents.”

“Like an expert witness.”

“Exactly, but a reputable one. One who’s unbiased, not a whore.”

“Nice talk.” Mary couldn’t help but smile. Judy was always more free talking about sex, but Mary had been raised better and she knew sex was dirty.

“Allegra essentially gets railroaded, probably to one of the nicest mental hospitals around, but it’s greased just the same.”

“So what happens under the statute, is there a hearing? She should have some modicum of constitutional rights.”

“Yes, a hearing.”

“When?”

“Within seventy-two hours of filing the petition.”

“Lock and load, Gardners.” Mary felt her juices flowing, and she didn’t even know she had juices to flow. “At the hearing, what do we have to prove?”

“Let me see.” Judy’s attention returned to her screen. “For treatment to continue against the minor’s wishes, the court has to find that she has a diagnosed mental disorder, that it’s treatable in the facility, and that the facility is the least restrictive environment.”

Mary thought fast. “So the argument we should attack is the last, the least restrictive environment. I bet we can show that she could be treated on an outpatient basis, seeing a psychiatrist every day if she has to. There’s no reason for her to be in any kind of hospital, full-time.”

“Right, but we can’t do any of this without more facts.” Judy nodded, mulling it over. “We have to find her a shrink who will treat her, and do a lot more homework before going to court.”

“Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.”

Judy returned to reading and scrolling. “I see here she does have some rights, once admitted, at least an adult admitted under Act 302 would.”

“Like what?”

“The right to three completed phone calls, and she can give to the facility the names of three people who should be kept informed of her progress.” Judy frowned as she read. “And if she were an adult, under the Patient’s Bill of Rights, she’d have the right to see a lawyer in private at any time and also the right to be assisted by any advocate of her choice in the assertion of her rights.”