Not Dead Yet

NOT DEAD YE
T

Pegi Price

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2013 Pegi Price

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, in whole or in part, without express written permission.  Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

CHAPTER ONE

Atlanta NBC Affiliate - News at Six evening newscast, May 12, 2007:

"And that would have been all the news, but Decatur police are reporting that a local law student has been shot, allegedly by her estranged husband.  The victim, Theia Pearson, was in her front yard when her former husband allegedly shot her.  We have no word on her condition. We will bring you updates as we receive them."

August 2012

Rose sat in a guest chair in her lawyer’s office, hunched protectively over her knees.  “What should I do, Theia?” she pleaded.

Rose looked like any number of women in their forties who had given up their hopes and dreams years before.  She was just hanging on, day by day, trapped in her life.  Rose wore mismatched but clean thrift shop clothes. Her worn, pale yellow cotton top was a little too loose. She couldn’t eat when she was stressed.

“I know this is a rough time for you, but you do have some options.  You can go to court and ask for an order of protection,” Theia explained. “You could go to a shelter for abused women.  Or you could move away from St. Louis.”

“Yes, but which one should I do?” Rose looked at Theia as if she were a fairy godmother who could fix everything.

“Rose, I cannot make that decision for you,” Theia said, nudging the candy dish toward Rose.  “I can explain your options, but the ultimate decision is yours.  None of these options sound appealing, but this is your reality.  Whichever one you choose, I will go to bat for you.  Take all the time you need to decide.”

Theia leaned back in her chair, to let Rose consider her options without pressure.   Theia knew only too well what it felt like to have to make this kind of decision, one that changes the rest of your life.  She looked young for a lawyer who had been practicing five years.  Her wildly curly auburn hair gave her the look of an Irish lass fresh from a walk on a heather-robed hillside.  She tried to restrain the long locks in a twist held up by a large clip, since the St. Louis humidity only added to her untamed look.

Theia’s eyes swept the walls of her office, to avoid staring at Rose while she made up her mind.  Abstract signed posters were framed and on the wall behind Rose. Theia enjoyed their bright colors, which were a welcome diversion from her stressful clients. Hundreds of tiny random doodles of all colors danced across the posters. Theia imagined them in motion as she heard upbeat music in her head. Her law degree and law review certificate were on the side wall, along with various honors and awards.  Theia found the “ego wall” rather embarrassing, but clients expected to see credentials.

Theia looked down at her nails and saw she really needed a manicure.  A nervous person by nature, Theia tended to chip her nails.  As a result, she usually chose  clear nail polish which was less noticeable when chipped.  She set her pen down, angled away from her since she  preferred not to have things pointed in her direction.

“Do you want to talk it out, Rose?” Theia offered, handing Rose a bottle of cold water. “Sometimes it helps to brainstorm, and to think of the advantages and disadvantages of each option.”

“Okay, that might help. I’m afraid if I go to court  Donald will get really mad,” Rose began, chewing on her fingernail.  “Ow!  Damn!” Rose pulled her hand away from her face as a speck of blood bubbled up at the edge of her nail. Theia handed her a tissue.  “And how exactly am I supposed to live in a shelter and for how long? I’d have to give up my home? I can’t spend my entire life in a shelter—I would have to go home sometime, and then what?”

“What about moving away from St. Louis?” Theia asked.

“That won’t do me any good,” Rose twisted the ends of her short, frizzy hair that had been home-dyed a shade too dark.  “He has always told me he would hunt me down and kill me if I ever try to leave him.” Rose chose a different nail to chew.  “You don’t know what it’s like, being afraid every waking minute, and being afraid to go to sleep.  I got no way out.”

“I know more than you realize. I have been through some trauma myself.  I know what it’s like to be afraid.”

“You?” Rose was amazed.  “But you don’t look like … you know … “ she faltered, looking intensely at Theia.

Theia sat forward in her chair, leaning on her desk.  “Rose, five years ago I was shot by my former husband after I had divorced him.  I don’t tell many clients this, but I think you need to hear that I got through it, and you can, too.  I rebuilt my life and so can you.  There is hope.  You don’t have to go on living like this.”

“How did you work up the courage to leave him?  Weren’t you afraid he would kill you?”

“I was terrified,” Theia answered as she chipped her nail polish.  “He told me many times he would kill me and he tried to, more than once.  But I was determined to stay alive.  I left when I knew he would kill me if I stayed.  Even though I knew he would be completely out of control when I left, I had nothing to lose.  My life was not my own when I was married to him.”

“And he shot you?” Rose asked.  “How come you are not, you know, messed up?”

“Who says I’m not?”  She rested her chin on her folded hands and looked at Rose with warmth.  “Rose, I’m doing a lot better than I was five years ago.  I will never be the same, but I get a little better every day.”

“But how are you such a happy person?”

“I choose to be happy,” Theia responded, capturing Rose’s eyes.  “Some days it is harder to make that choice than others.”

Rose looked at Theia’s head, arms and upper torso, the only parts of her visible over the desk, trying to see scars from the gunshot wounds. Rose then glanced down, embarrassed.

“It’s alright,” Theia assured her, “I would be curious, too.  He shot me through the arm and the chest at close range.  You can’t see the gunshots wounds when I am wearing long sleeves.”

Rose’s mouth fell agape. “You survived being shot?  How?  And how did you recover?” Rose wanted to know.  Needed to know.

“I was still in law school when the shooting happened,” Theia began.  “I took off a semester to recuperate, then went back and finished.  It was good to have something to focus on, to keep my mind off of what had happened.  I’m not saying it was easy, but I was determined.  I had been given a second chance, and I was going to make the most of it,” Theia paused.  “I did it, Rose.  You can, too.  First step—we have to get you away from Donald.  Then we’ll figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.  Didn’t you tell me once that you would like to work in a floral shop?”

“Yes,” Rose’s face finally registered joy.  “I love flowers.”

“When this is all behind you, you should work in a florist shop,” Theia suggested.

“It’s hard to imagine I could have that kind of life, doing something I love, and being surrounded by beautiful flowers.” 

Theia smiled.  This was what made the job of being a divorce lawyer bearable – changing lives, helping people obtain hope and a better life.  She noticed Rose had a little color in her cheeks for once. 

“So how do I do this thing?  How do I leave Donald?”

“First we go to the courthouse and ask the judge to give you a temporary order of protection which will be good for a couple of weeks. Next, a full hearing will be done in a courtroom, in front of a judge.  Donald will be there and will be allowed to participate, to tell his side of the story and to ask you questions.  If the judge grants you a full order of protection, it will be good for a year, and can be renewed for another year.”

“Donald will be there?  I can’t do this.  It would be hard enough telling the judge, I can’t do it if he is there,” Rose waved her hands.

“He has the legal right to be there.  Just as, if he claimed you beat him up, you would have the right to face him in court, ask him questions and tell the judge your side,” Theia explained.

“I guess that makes sense, but I don’t like it.  Did you have an order of protection against your ex-husband?”

“Yes.”

“So what happened to your ex-husband?  Is he in prison?”

“No, he’s dead,” Theia said quietly.

Front Page, Atlanta Constitution, May 13, 2007:

"DOCTOR SHOOTS LAW STUDENT, IS SHOT BY POLICE

An area doctor was shot by the police after allegedly shooting his former wife, Theia Pearson, a law student.  The incident occurred at approximately 1:11 pm on May 12, 2007, in the victim’s front yard.  Neighbors report that Dr. Foster got out of his car, which was parked on the street, and attacked Ms. Pearson from behind as she carried groceries from her car.  A neighbor called the police, who arrived at the scene within three minutes.  Dr. Foster shot Ms. Pearson, who reportedly was unarmed, at close range, through the right arm and the chest.  Foster then turned his gun on the police, who shot him in the right thigh and in the left temple. He was pronounced dead at the hospital.  DeKalb County court records reveal that Ms. Pearson had a restraining order against Dr. Foster, who was ordered to stay one mile away from her and from her residence at all times."

August 2012

“The adult abuse department at the courthouse has staff to help you fill out the paperwork and walk you through the process, if you want to do the order of protection on your own, which can save you money on legal fees,” Theia suggested.

“There’s no way I can do this on my own.  Can you come?” Rose drew up her shoulders and held her breath.

“Yes, I can.”

Rose let out her breath and relaxed her shoulders.

Although she had a pile of work on her desk, Theia did not hesitate to accompany Rose to court.  So much of law practice felt like shuffling papers around without accomplishing much.  When Theia was able to help get a woman away from an abusive husband, she felt she was doing something of value with her law degree.  Something had to be done to help Rose.  The beatings had been getting worse.  If Rose was to survive, Donald had to be stopped and soon.

PETITION FOR ORDER OF PROTECTION

PETITIONER:  Rose Catalino

HT:  5’6”WEIGHT:  115 lb.

AGE:  43HAIR:  Brown

EYES:   Brown 

IDENTIFYING MARKS, TATTOOS, ETC.: 

None

RESPONDENT:   Donald Catalino

HT:   5’10” WEIGHT:  185 lb.

AGE:   45 HAIR:  Brown

EYES:   Gray

IDENTIFYING MARKS, TATTOOS, ETC.:

Tattoo: Bleeding red rose, right shoulder.

“Mrs. Catalino?” the clerk called out, holding the forms Rose had completed. Rose and Theia hurried up to the clerk, who shoved papers at them.  “Sign here,” the clerk directed.  Rose gripped the pen in her hand and signed her name.  Her signature was shaky.

“Let’s go see the judge,” the clerk said.  She came through a locked door, into the waiting room.  Rose and Theia scrambled to keep up with the clerk as she hurried down the hallway to a courtroom.

“Got another one,” the clerk announced.  She did this as many as thirty or forty times a day.  After a while, the cases ran together, and the clerk stopped seeing the people involved.

A judge walked in the courtroom from a door behind the bench. He went straight to the bench and sat down, motioning the clerk forward for Rose’s paperwork, which he took silently.  Scanning the forms, he frowned and scratched his head. 

Peering over his reading glasses, he looked around the courtroom, which held only his bailiff, the adult abuse clerk, Rose and Theia. Rose shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Mrs. Catalino?” the judge asked.

Rose stared, unblinking.

“Please come forward, ma’am,” the judge requested.

Rose looked at Theia for guidance.

“It’s okay,” Theia said.  “Come on,” Theia placed her hand on Rose’s shoulder, in part to comfort her and in part to nudge her forward. 

The clerk swore in Rose as a witness.  Rose and Theia stood side by side, looking up at the judge, waiting for direction. Nervousness emanated from Rose in waves.  The dark half-moons under her eyes were accentuated by the harsh courtroom lighting. It had been a long time since she had slept well.