The Judge Who Stole Christmas (18 page)

A phone call with Thomas that afternoon eased Theresa's mind somewhat. Still, it was hard to enjoy the plush New York hotel room knowing that Thomas would be spending another night in the cold confines of a Norfolk federal holding cell.

“Can't you just promise that you won't do it again?” Theresa asked. “You've already made your point.”

Thomas breathed into the phone, and Theresa immediately felt guilty for pressuring him. “You know I can't do that, Theresa. You've just got to be strong.”

Theresa was tired of being strong, though she didn't say that to Thomas.

A few hours later, as she stepped into the greenroom backstage at Madison Square Garden, Theresa had to summon every ounce of courage and strength that she had left. For nearly an hour the folks working for the Christmas Crusade told Theresa to relax and then did everything possible to make her nervous. First, they whisked her kids off to some “Bible Land” program that would take place in a side auditorium while the adults met on the main floor of the Garden. Then came the heavy makeup and the instructions about where she would be sitting onstage and how she should not worry about the large crowd but just consider them all part of her family. “It's like having a nice little chat with a few thousand of your closest friends,” they joked. Then they practiced the questions that the Reverend Hester might ask her, listened to her answers, and gave her some gentle pointers about how to phrase things a little differently.

“It's okay to cry,” one of the ladies told her.

“Yeah, I'd be surprised if you didn't cry,” another said, “considering what your husband's going through.”

Theresa got the message, though she had no plans to deliver on manufactured tears.

Ten minutes before showtime, the three handlers who had been tending to Theresa pronounced her ready, because they had bigger fish to fry. The Reverend Freddie Hester had arrived in an uproar, shouting out instructions while they slapped on his makeup.

“Where's the video for the Gateway Christmas Children's Project?” he barked. Assistants scurried, and a few seconds later it was playing on a television in the greenroom. It was, Theresa thought, a touching story about the need to support some orphanages in Kenya.

“Will that work?” Johnny asked anxiously as soon as the tape had finished.

“Two minutes!” someone called out.

“Guess it will have to,” the reverend said.

Everyone huddled and held hands. The reverend prayed while some handlers adjusted his mike and earpiece.

“Glory!” he shouted and headed onstage.

Theresa watched the first part of the service on the monitor in the greenroom. She was nearly sick with fright, wringing her hands and praying fervently for the strength to get through. She practiced her lines over and over in her head, determined not to mess up a single word. The singing was awesome, though she could hardly enjoy it in her frenzied state, and the Reverend Hester sure knew how to fire up the troops. As the Christmas Children's Project video played, cameras panned the audience, catching more than a few glistening eyes.

A few minutes before Theresa's scheduled appearance, the Reverend Hester called people forward for prayer. As was his custom, he wandered down among those gathering at the altar, sticking a mike in front of them and asking them to describe their various ailments. He had an uncanny ability to call many of them by name and miraculously list their disabilities even before they described them. Then he would pray over them with great furor, and they would be slain in the Spirit and drop on the ground, many times rising without a trace of their former problems.

“Mrs. Hammond, it's just about time. After this prayer time, there will be one song and then your interview.”

Theresa wanted to know if she had time to throw up or at least hit the bathroom one last time, but they were already ushering her backstage. There was another area with a few chairs where they left Theresa, promising to return momentarily. She sat there patiently for a moment, but then noticed a bank of backstage monitors a little closer to the stage. Several men and women were stationed in front of them and wore earphones. They watched the monitors intently.

Curious, Theresa moved close enough so she could watch the monitors but also glance around occasionally at where her handlers had left her.

“That's Jamie,” one of the men was saying, reading off a card. “She's got breast cancer.”

On the monitors, Theresa saw the reverend approach a young woman and put his arm around her. “Jamie,” he said, “do you believe the Lord can heal your cancer?”

The woman looked astonished, nodding and blurting, “Yes, yes, yes.” The reverend prayed and Jamie hit the floor. This went on for a few more minutes, a minor uproar occurring backstage when the reverend got a name wrong.

“I said ‘Misty,' not ‘Missy,'” one of the men said to another backstage.

“You've got to enunciate more clearly,” the other man shot back. “The reverend will not be happy.”

“Just to your right,” another person said, apparently speaking into the reverend's earpiece. Theresa felt guilty for listening to all this. “A young mother named Kelly has a two-year-old baby with a blood disorder.”

Lord! The mother of a two-year-old! Theresa felt the air leave her lungs. A year and a half ago, her own Joshie had died from appendicitis just months short of his second birthday. Thomas and Theresa prayed for three days, believing in a miracle, before they sought medical help. Theresa would never forgive herself.

She wanted to rush into the sanctuary and tell this woman to get help!
Pray hard but trust the doctors that God gives us as well!
Instead, the woman was affirming her faith that God was healing her son while the reverend prayed for a miracle that would be a sign for the watching world.

Theresa felt a gentle hand on her arm and turned. “It's time, Mrs. Hammond,” one of the backstage assistants said.

Theresa shuffled nervously onstage and performed her lines nearly flawlessly, though her eyes stayed bone dry throughout. The reverend gushed about how proud he was to be able to assist the courageous Hammond family. He bragged on the legal prowess of attorney David Arginot III and displayed a toll-free number on the big screen for donations to the cause. In addition, the reverend said, they would be taking up a special Christmas offering in just a few minutes, with every dime going to the Thomas Hammond Legal Defense Fund to protect Christmas in America.

When the reverend finished, Theresa walked offstage to the thunderous applause of a grateful audience. She located Johnny and insisted that he help her find her kids. Though Johnny tried to talk her out of it, Theresa also insisted that she and the kids take a cab back to the hotel. She kept saying that she just needed some time alone, but in truth she didn't want to be around the ministry staff for even one more hour.

That night, after the kids were asleep, Theresa spent a long time staring at the ceiling and thinking about Kelly and her two-year-old child. She prayed for this woman she hardly knew, bonded by the shared heartache of seeing their children suffer. She also made up her mind that when she visited Thomas on Sunday, she would tell him everything that had happened at Madison Square Garden. She knew Thomas, and she knew he wouldn't want the help of a group that used earpieces and cue cards to perform pretend miracles of healing. She wondered where they got that information on the cards, but she also realized it didn't really matter. If Thomas agreed, they would call Jasmine and beg her to come back on the case. After all, Jasmine couldn't do any worse than Mr. Arginot had done. And Jasmine understood the people of Possum—people like Thomas and Theresa.

Theresa didn't want to be a national celebrity, helping raise money for the Reverend Hester's television ministry. She just wanted Thomas out of jail. She just wanted things to be normal again.

And more than anything else, she wanted the one thing she knew she could never have: Joshie. She just wanted to hold him one more time.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 18

Jasmine hated it when she did this. Her first morning to sleep in—no exams, no school pressures, no Hammond case hanging over her head—and she woke up at 7:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. She planned on staying in Possum with her mom and Ajori through Christmas; then she would return to her apartment in Virginia Beach.

She listened to Ajori stumble around a little as she got ready for school, her hair dryer and CD player from the bedroom next door erasing any hope of Jasmine's going back to sleep. She grabbed the covers and rolled over angrily, burying her ears in the pillow. Little sisters were such a pain!

After Ajori left, Jasmine headed downstairs.

“Good morning, baby,” Jasmine's mom said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Coffee,” Jasmine groaned. A few minutes later they were discussing shopping plans for the day. Jasmine's Christmas shopping so far had been limited to law school friends—she had zero gifts for family members. But shopping was her mom's specialty, and they eagerly made plans to attack the Tidewater malls until they had blisters on their feet.

“Hang on a second,” Jasmine said, catching a mention of the manger case on the
Today
show. “I want to hear this.”

David Arginot looked dapper in a three-button suit and light blue power tie, live from the studios in New York. He crossed his legs and gazed directly into the camera, explaining that he would be filing an appeal later in the day that would undoubtedly be successful. He leveled some thinly veiled criticisms of Judge Cynthia Baker-Kline and bemoaned the fact that a good man like Thomas Hammond was in jail. His host had some skeptical questions, but David handled them all with a bright smile and genuine charm. The man was a pro.

“Looks like Thomas is in good hands,” Jasmine said. She had tried to call the Hammond house the prior day but got only their answering machine. She still found it hard to believe that Theresa and Thomas didn't have a cell phone. How did they live like that?

“Then why's he sitting in jail while his lawyer gets famous on TV?” Bernice asked.

“He's just doing his job,” Jasmine responded, though she didn't believe it either. “Part of representing a client these days is winning the PR battle.”

Her mom grabbed the remote and changed the channel. Another talk show was promising its own interview with Arginot later that morning. Suddenly her mom had an urge to check ESPN. “Did ODU play last night?” she asked, though Jasmine was pretty sure that her mom already knew the answer.

Theresa couldn't watch television without running into an interview with David A. Arginot III. He apparently did nothing but float from one television studio to another, repeating his mantra about what a great American family the Hammonds were and how they were certain to win on appeal. Other commentators painted a bleaker picture of Mr. Arginot's chances with the Fourth Circuit. Meanwhile, Thomas sat in jail, and the Reverend Hester collected checks. The whole thing upset Theresa so much that she turned off the television and vowed not to watch it again until the case was over.

She wondered if Jasmine was up yet—it was only 8:30. Last night Thomas had agreed to fire Arginot if Jasmine would take the case. And if she wouldn't? “Then God's telling us to stay with Arginot,” Thomas said. Theresa wasn't so sure.

She started to dial and then decided to give it a few more minutes. She would call Jasmine at nine. Jasmine was a law student and most law students liked to sleep in. Though Theresa knew she was making excuses, she allowed herself to get away with it. She
hated
asking people for favors.
Thomas, why do you put me through this?

Ten minutes before her self-imposed deadline, she heard a knock on the door. She walked slowly to the miniblinds and peeked out, expecting someone from the press. Instead, there was nobody on the stoop, though she did see a car pulling away from the trailer. Was it some kind of prank? People didn't knock and run unless they're doing something ugly. Before going outside to check around, she made sure Elizabeth and her buddies were in the living room and secured the child gates to keep them there.