Sins of the Fathers (23 page)
Memories of Snow White? Why now? But Darren seemed to be listening, so she went forward.
“I ran out of the shop and my parents probably missed it. I ran outside to get a look at Snow White. She had a dwarf with her. I think it was Grumpy. He was skipping alongside her and they seemed to be in a hurry. I didn’t think. I just ran, and I called out her name. She looked at me and gave me a smile and wave. It was amazing. Snow White! The real deal!”
Lindy laughed a little. And she thought she saw the corner of Darren’s mouth move a little upward.
“Yeah, it was the biggest thrill of my life. I ran back into the shop. But I guess it was the wrong shop. It didn’t look familiar, and I didn’t see my mom or dad or brother. I did see this man with a very sour expression on his face. I’ll never forget it. This guy was Grumpy times four, the ugliest, scariest face I’d ever seen. And suddenly I was very, very scared. I was lost, and Disneyland had become a scary place. I called out—Mommy! Daddy!—and I spun around looking for them.
“The man with the scary face came over to me and said, ‘Can’t find your mommy or daddy?’ That scared me more than anything else. I ran out of the shop with my heart stuck in my throat, crying, and as soon as I got out the door I was swept up by my mother into her arms. She was right outside the door waiting for me.”
She paused, the feelings coming back to her, the incredible relief that was so deep she burst into tears on her mother’s shoulder. Mom held her close, patted her back, told her not to worry.
I would never
let you get lost,
she said.
“So I think God must be like that,” Lindy said.“We’re down here and we’re scared and we get lost. God’s not going to let us stay lost.”
She stopped, looked at Darren’s furrowed brow. For a minute he stayed like that. What was he thinking? Lindy didn’t press him.
Finally he said, “I went to Disneyland once.”
Lindy almost slid off her chair. Light shone through the fissure again.
She put her hand on his arm. “Tell me about it.”
1.
The preliminary hearing in the case of the People of the State of California against Darren DiCinni began in the courtroom of Judge Doreen Weyer. Lindy had been in front of her before, and considered her fair. Weyer was a deputy DA for fifteen years before her appointment to the bench. At least she was not the sort of ex-DA who took pleasure in making defense lawyers jump through flaming hoops.
Of course the place was jammed with reporters. Lindy expected this but wasn’t quite ready for the reality of reporters sniffing blood—hers. Leon Colby was taking a hard line. She was the nasty defense lawyer who would pull any trick to get Darren through some legal loophole. For the scribes, that was a formula for good press.
Most disconcerting, though, was the group of VOICe activists who managed to get seats in the courtroom. Wearing their red and white VOICe badges, they dominated a corner of the medium-sized courtroom, occupying twelve seats or so. A couple of them made eye contact with Lindy as she walked toward the counsel table. It was a good thing flame throwers were not allowed in court.
Roxy gave Lindy a playful nudge on the shoulder as they sat at counsel table. “I prayed for you this morning,” she said.
“Good idea. I talked to Darren yesterday, about God and Disneyland.”
“Interesting combination.”
“The point is, I think I made a connection. A little one. So keep on praying, okay? I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Leon Colby walked into the courtroom. He ambled down the center aisle with a palpable swagger. It sent a vibrating blade through Lindy’s middle, a feeling she got whenever she knew a prosecutor held all the cards. And Leon Colby displayed his hand with glee.
He smiled at Lindy and gave her a nod. Then he motioned that he wanted to talk. Lindy stepped to the prosecutor’s table.
“Take a twenty-five to life, Lindy,” Colby said. “He’ll have a chance to get out.”
“He needs treatment, not incarceration.”
“No.”
“You know he does.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind. You heard the expert.”
“Some expert.”
“Take the deal, Lindy. Let’s get out of here and get on with our lives.”
Lindy glanced behind her, then back at Colby. “Those red-and-white badges wouldn’t have anything to do with this case now, would they?”
Stiffening, Colby said, “That’s not gonna help you.”
“They turn out the vote.”
“I guess this conference is over.”
He started to turn. Lindy put a hand on his arm. “Leon, there’s stuff here that smells, and you know it.You’ve been around too long not to know it.”
“I got a good sense of smell, and I’m not picking anything up.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“Maybe because you’re just wired to smell your own imagination.
Maybe it’s because you’re still fighting old battles. I don’t know. But the kid’s gonna end up doing life without parole, and if you’re so all-fired concerned about him, you better think about a deal.”
From the side door, Darren DiCinni shuffled in between two sheriff’s deputies. He still looked like the vacant, lost teenager who had tried to kill himself. But Lindy knew there was something more inside him. After they’d met on the field of Disneyland memories, she felt at least he was starting to trust her a little. To listen.
He even gave her a half smile.
2.
Mona watched the killer, tried to see into his eyes. Vacant, remorseless. Wicked. What was he smiling about? Did he think he was going to beat this thing? He and his tricky lawyer?
Didn’t the Bible talk about an eye for an eye? If God was just, then this killer would get what he deserved.
Janelle Thompson sat beside Mona. She was the mother of Cody Thompson, one of the murdered boys. Mona liked her, one of the more voluble VOICe members. She had a way of empowering victims with her words, making them feel important.
Brad was not going to come. He called yesterday and left a message. Mona was home but didn’t pick up. She didn’t want to have a long, drawn-out thing, especially not with the preliminary coming up.
She hoped he was getting along. She really did. Maybe after the trial they could—“Nervous?” Janelle whispered.
“A little, I guess.”
“Mr. Colby’s going all the way on this one. He’s the right man for the job.”
“I sure hope so.”
“I heard the judge is good too.”
“This is only a preliminary. The trial’s another thing.”
“Don’t worry,” Janelle said.“We’ll be out in force for that too. Any judge will see he can’t get away with anything.”
Mona nodded, trying to feel confident.
“And Mr. Mahoney,” Janelle said. “He’s going to help take care of things for us.”
“I didn’t know he was working on the case.”
“He’s not.”
Mona shook her head.
“He’s a former police officer, remember?” Janelle said. “He’s got connections.”
“I’m still not sure—”
“Just trust him. He knows what he’s doing. Which is good for us.”
After a long sigh, Mona said, “I’ll take anything at this point.”And just then the killer’s lawyer turned and scanned the gallery, making eye contact with Mona.
An icy hand grabbed her heart. This woman profaned God’s house by coming in to worship with people who cared about justice. This woman was trying to pervert justice. If only God would intervene and get this thing over with.
Mona did not avert her eyes. The lawyer did.
3.
I
’
ll have to get used to her being here,
Lindy thought. That woman who had reamed her at the church, along with all her cohorts and the red-and- white badges. Here to intimidate this judge and any other judge who sat on the case. And a jury.
Lindy would make a motion before trial to exclude these people from the courtroom. At least get a ruling to make them take off those badges. They were a veritable lynch mob.
The press sat on the other side of the gallery. Including Sean McIntyre. He smiled and winked at Lindy.
At 9:05 the judge entered. Everyone stood as Doreen Weyer took the bench. Weyer had allowed one pool camera in court. The proceedings would show up on the evening news, locally and nationally. Lindy had moved for exclusion and lost. Leon Colby did not seem upset in the slightest. What a great TV commercial it would make when he officially threw his hat in the DA ring.
Judge Weyer called the case. “Before we get to the first witness,” she said, “I want to make sure we all understand that this is a preliminary hearing with an intense amount of interest. We have a camera in court, and many parties here who have a stake in the proceedings. And I mean from the defendant to family members to those who talk about the social significance of all things criminal. I want to say at the outset that I will not tolerate anything done for the benefit of the camera or publicity. I don’t want any outbursts from the public or untoward actions by the press. And I trust that the two lawyers will conduct themselves with the utmost professionalism.”
When Weyer said
professionalism
, she looked at Lindy. What was that supposed to mean?
“Mr. Colby,” said the judge, “you may call your first witness.”
Colby stood up. “The People call Marjorie Kean to the stand.”
Lindy glanced to the gallery, where a woman of about thirty-five stood and came forward. She was dressed in a dignified suit and had short, stylish brown hair.
She was sworn and took the witness chair, then per the clerk’s instruction stated her name for the record.
Leon Colby addressed her from the podium.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kean.”
“Good morning.” She seemed a little nervous, but only a little.
“You are a resident of West Hills?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you lived there?”
“About seven years now.”
Colby’s manner was warm and friendly. “And what sort of work do you do, Mrs. Kean?”
“At home. I am a stay-at-home mother.”
“How many children do you have?”
“Three. Jonathan is twelve, Megan is ten, and Hannah is seven.”
“And is Jonathan on a park-league baseball team?”
“Yes. The Royals.”
“What is your husband’s name, Mrs. Kean?”
“Jerry.”
“And is Jerry one of the coaches of the Royals?”
“He’s an assistant coach, yes.”
“Turning your attention to the morning of June 26, were you at the park with your family?”
“Yes. All of us were there for Jonathan’s game.”
“What time was the game supposed to start?”
“Nine.”
“And what time did you arrive?”
“About half an hour before.”
Colby put a white poster board on an easel. It had a diagram on it. “Mrs. Kean, I am going to ask you to look at a diagram, marked People’s One for identification, and ask if this is a correct representation of Capistrano Park.”
The witness gave the diagram a glance. “Yes.”
“Will you indicate for the judge which diamond was being used for Jonathan’s game that morning?”
Mrs. Kean pointed at the chart. “The upper right.”
“Let the record show that the witness has identified the northeast baseball diamond on People’s Exhibit One.”
“The record will so reflect,” the judge said.
“Did the baseball game start pretty much on time?”
“Yes. Around nine o’clock or so.”
“Thank you. Now around nine fifteen, did something happen that—”
“Objection,” Lindy said. “Leading as to time.”
“Sustained.”
Colby nodded, all professionalism and cool efficiency. “During the course of the baseball game, Mrs. Kean, did something out of the ordinary happen?”
“Oh my, yes.”
“About what time did this event take place?”