Spilled Milk: Based on a true story (24 page)

“Will I see
him?”

“Yes, he’ll be
sitting right here.” She pointed to the one desk. “Your lawyer will be right
here.” She tapped the other desk. “Anyone supporting you that isn’t subpoenaed
will be sitting behind your lawyer. Anyone supporting him will do the same.
Kind of like when you go to a wedding.”

“What if I
don’t want them to?”

“If it’s anyone
you know, you can let them know it’s uncomfortable to have them in the room
while you’re testifying. That’s perfectly fine. Go ahead and sit up there on
the witness stand so you know what to expect.”

My sneakers
echoed across wooden floor of the box and I sat facing Heather. “Like this?”

“Yup. You can
adjust the microphone when you get up there if you need to. What do you think
you’ll feel like when you tell what happened to you in front of people you
don’t know?”

“Scary. I
haven’t even talked to people in my family about it really, and I have to tell
complete strangers.”

Heather nodded
and smoothed her suit jacket. “It will be difficult, I won’t lie. You’ll be
talking about very personal things. But you can look at your lawyer or me when
you’re answering a question if it’ll make you feel better. You don’t need to
look at David at all. They’ll ask you to point him out one time, just to
identify him.”

“How come none
of my siblings are testifying? He hurt them too. Not in the same way, but
wouldn’t that count?”

The frown on
Heather’s face told me she agreed with me. “The police interviewed your
siblings, yes. But they’re very scared of him. We wouldn’t want to make them
testify if they aren’t able to, we don’t want to do anything that would hurt
the outcome of the trial.”

I was confused.
“Why would anything they say hurt?”

“If a child is
unsure they want to testify because they are afraid, sometimes they will say
one thing when they feel safe, but when they’re confronted…” Heather pointed to
where Earl would be sitting. “They freeze, or they recant what they said, say
it wasn’t true because they feel bad, like it’s tattle tailing. It’s hard for
people your age and younger to testify against someone who is supposed to love
and protect you.”

“Not even Adam
will?”

Heather shook
her head. “You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, I’m sure. You’re
the only one who can do it.”

Heather
followed my gaze to where Earl would be sitting. “There will be what’s called a
bailiff, most likely two of them, standing near him. They’ll be in police uniform.
He won’t get near you, that I can promise. There is also going to be a court
reporter sitting right in front of the judge’s stand. It’s their job to write
down everything that people say.”

“There’s going
to be a lot of people in here.”

“Yes, there
will be. But this is a safe place. No one is here to judge you or tell you
these things didn’t happen. The only one’s doing that will be the defense.”

I stepped down
from the witness stand and gazed up at the fluorescent lighting that lit up the
room. The bright lights and people were definitely going to make me feel
vulnerable.

“What if I say
the wrong thing, or don’t know an answer.” There was so much to remember, all
eyes would be on me. If I mess this up, he could walk free.

Heather bent at
the knees to be eye level with me. “There is no wrong answer when you tell the
truth. If they ask you a question and you don’t know, you’re allowed to say you
don’t know. If you don’t remember, then say that. The questions the defense
will try and ask you are meant to trick you, but if you’re telling the truth,
there won’t be anyone to trick.”

“Okay. And you’ll
be here?”

She squeezed my
hand. “I’ll be here.”

I threw up
before we got in the elevator to go down to the courtroom. If my stomach was
any indication of how the rest of the day was going to go I wouldn’t have
gotten out of bed. The waiting room off of the courtroom was packed with people
I knew. They smiled encouragement from across the room and whispered among each
other as light from the early morning sun blasted through the only two windows
in the lobby. There was no elevator music, no self-help pamphlets, not even a
fire extinguisher in sight to stare at to pass the time.

Then they
called my name.

Over fifty
pairs of eyes redirected their attention to the white door when I walked in. I
made it to the witness stand on auto pilot and recognized the familiar shape of
the seat from the day before. Foggy words poured from my lawyers mouth; my
heart was in my head. I glanced at the jury. One man smiled. I smiled back. Was
that wrong? Can I not smile at them?

I was sworn in,
I raised my right hand and my lawyer approached the bench. Rob cleared his
throat, moved his tie to the side. He was ready. “Please state your name.”

“We’ll start
off with small questions. Easy questions. Let the jury get to know you,” Rob
had said a day earlier. “It’ll build up your confidence, and we need to
establish what kind of person you are to the jury.”

“What if they
don’t like me?”

Rob smiled. “I
wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Brooke Nolan.”
The microphone screeched and I pulled it closer to my face and cleared my
throat. “Brooke Nolan.”

Was that really
my voice? I sound so young.

Easy questions.
Too easy. We flowed through my life; where I went to school, my relation to the
defendant, when I moved to Pennsylvania.

“Can you
explain the relationship between you and Mr. Nolan.” Rob raised his eyebrow.
Things were about to get ugly.

“There wasn’t
one, really.” I looked at the jury, then down at my hands.

“During the
length of time you lived in New York, did Mr. Nolan ever rape, sexually molest,
assault, or inappropriately touch you?”

“Yes.” I
couldn’t look towards my supporters in the room because Earl would be in full
view. I didn’t want to look at the jury because I was so ashamed I didn’t think
I could hold it together. I silently begged Rob to keep eye contact with me.

“Please give
the jury your details about any incidents in New York.”

“He molested
me. He would come into my room before bed and-” I trailed off and looked up at
the fluorescents. I didn’t even know if I was allowed to say body part names in
the courtroom. The words seemed vulgar. “He put his hands down my pajama
bottoms.”

“Did he
penetrate you?”

I looked at the
judge. It seemed so inappropriate to be saying these things in front of so many
adults. All eyes were on me, waiting to hear what words I would use.

“Yes.”

“Please tell
the jury what he penetrated you with.”

I closed my
eyes. “His fingers.”

“During the
length of time you lived in Pennsylvania, did Mr. Nolan ever rape, sexually
molest, assault, or inappropriately touch you?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“Brooke I know
this is very difficult for you. So when you’re ready, please give the jury
information about those two incidents.” He paused, cleared his throat. “In as
much detail as you can.”

There were more
than two times. Way more. The legal system all came down to what you could
prove and what you couldn’t. If you don’t have a witness, some DNA, or a video
recording it was hard to prove. Heather told me we were taking a gamble, we had
none of those things. We had my word against his. My truth and his.

“First time was
in the summer…”

I went through
the motions and tried not to listen to my own voice as I recalled every
painstaking and humiliating detail. I laid everything out on the open floor
darting my eyes between the jury, my lawyer, and the judge. I didn’t know who I
was supposed to be talking to because everyone seemed to be listening.

My lips started
to tremble and bounce so furiously when I tried to say the word penis that my
lawyer asked if I needed a break. Instead I washed my face in my own tears and
gritted my teeth when I was done explaining.

Rob nodded and
hung his head for me. “No further questions, your honor.”

The defense
lawyer wasted no time. Her black heels paraded across the floor as she bolted
out her first question. “Brooke, isn’t it true that you were angry at your
father for not buying you a car?”

“A car?” I
didn’t mean to repeat her, but the question was so out of left field I wasn’t
sure I heard her right.

“Yes, a car.
Isn’t it true you were angry because he wouldn’t buy you a car when you got
your license?”

“No.”

“No?” She
raised an eyebrow.

“Do you recall
an argument, the summer you claim you were raped, where your mom wanted to put
a car on your fathers insurance?”

“Yea, I think
so.”

“So you admit
there was an argument?”

“Yea, but not
from me. From my mom. I knew my dad couldn’t buy me a car, so when I got my own
my mom put me on their insurance. It was easier and I just paid her the money.”

My answers
clearly were not going in the direction she wanted them to so she changed
lanes. “You mentioned before that you were an honor roll student in high
school, is that correct?”

“Yes. I was.”

“Your Honor,
I’d like to present the witness with records from the high school.”

The judge
nodded. “Proceed.”

She whisked a
piece of paper in front of me. It looked like the report cards we would get
when I was in high school.

“Brooke the
highlighted section of those grades correlates with the dates you claim to have
been raped. Could you please read off the grades to the jury?”

I moved my
finger across the page. “98, 96, 99, 92.”

“Those grades
would qualify you for distinguished honor roll, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Brooke please
tell the jury when you started your first menstrual cycle.”

I could feel
the heat in my face flare up as my lawyer shouted out. “Objection, your Honor.”

“Sustained.
Next question Miss Lourdes.”

“The night of
the second incident which you claim you were raped, isn’t it true you had an
argument about sleeping at your boyfriend’s house?”

“I wanted to
sleep there, yea.” I felt like she was backing me into a corner, trying to
unleash a motive I couldn’t understand.

“So you were
mad at your father for not letting you sleep at your boyfriend’s house, and you
coincidentally were raped that night?”

“No. It’s not
like that-”

She held up a
hand. “Simple yes or no will suffice.”

Panic rose in
my chest. This lady was trying to make it seem like I was a pissed off
materialistic teenager with daddy issues. Her next question didn’t skip a beat.

“Do you recall
when social services came to your school to talk to you?”

“Yes.”

“Did they tell
you that anything you said would be confidential?”

“Yes, they
did.”

“And what did
you tell them, when they asked if your father ever did anything sexually
inappropriate with you?”

“I told them I
had a dream he did.”

“Thank you. No
further questions your Honor.”

Once again I
panicked, she never even asked me to explain why I said they were dreams. I
cringed at how easy it was for them to twist answers to fit what they were looking
for.

Rob stood up at
the redirect. “Brooke, please explain to the jury why you told social services
they were dreams.”

“I was scared, I
never told anyone before. I thought they would put us in foster care.”

“Did they tell
you they would keep your conversation confidential?”

“Yes.”

“And what did
social services send to your house two days later?”

“A letter,
saying I told them about the dreams I had, and everything else I told them.”

“Not very
confidential was it?”

“No.”

“And didn’t Mr.
Nolan confront you about the letter that was sent home?”

“Yes.”

Rob looked up
at the jury and held up his hands as if to say
Good thing she didn’t tell
them she was being raped, huh?
“No further questions at this time.”

When I was told
I could step down my legs threatened to melt into puddles beneath me. Tunnel
vision masked my way out and the jury fell behind me in a blur. By the time I
pushed open the white door my eyes were so blurry I reached out to the first
person who grabbed me and hysterically fell to the floor.

***

Mom testified
next. I curled up on one of the hard wooden chairs next to Gina and put my head
on her shoulder. I remembered what Heather told me about my mom’s testimony.
“We can’t paint the picture that she knew there was abuse in the house.”

“But she
did
know,” I insisted. “She was just in the other room when Dad would throw
someone against a wall or go tearing after us up the stairs. Maybe she can say
she didn’t know about the sexual abuse, but she had to know about the physical
abuse.”

“We can’t use
it. If we paint it like she knew, they would deem her an unfit mother or
accomplice. Your siblings would be pulled from the house, I could guarantee
it.”

“So what can
she testify to?”

“Your father’s
temper, your relationship with him, things like that. The fact that she’s
disabled helps. It shows she couldn’t intervene even if she wanted to.”

“What about
Gina?”

“She’s a star
witness. You called her to pick you up from school the day after, remember? We
have school records of the time you left, and we have her as a witness that you
could barely walk up the stairs when she brought you home. Plus she’s seen your
fathers temper first hand, as an outsider, when she would drop you off.”

“And my mom’s
friend Ellen, what can she say?”

“David called
her right after you guys fled to New York. He said on the phone ‘
Brooke must
have said’
then hung up. It’s very incriminating that he pinpointed you as
someone who said something when he didn’t even know what was going on yet or
where anyone was.”