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His weapons were many: the nonviolence of Bill; Denise’s affidavit, which she filed to get Bill out of the house when all of this began; the few pages from Denise’s diary, which ADA Democrates Eleutheria, also a Holy Cross grad, had passed to Bea before he left DA TKO’s office for private practice; the bat-lady’s 51B or DSS investigative report; Carol Tracy’s handwritten notes of her interview with Chloe; and the transcripts of the depositions and of the divorce trial.
Were they enough to destroy the obstacles? The alleged rape of Chloe by Bill; Carol Tracy’s 51A mandatory report; the process notes of MSPCC social worker Heather Bruce; the process notes of social worker Roberta Leavitt, who had posed as Chloe’s therapist.
Denise had never been questioned on any of the social workers’ or the rape-counselor’s notes. Bea hadn’t had some of them before deposing Denise, and she hadn’t needed to question her on any of them for the divorce trial. In other words, the notes had never been tested for consistency... or inconsistency.
Blakeley probably didn’t want to call any of the social workers to the stand except maybe Rachel Gidseg, the bat-lady, but she was in Florida, so said ADA Cooke. A coincidence?
Certainly Cooke didn’t want Gidseg to testify or to use her report; otherwise she’d be in Massachusetts and not in Florida.
Every trial lawyer would ask questions in a linear or chronological fashion, but when a witness is evasive, a trial lawyer must jump in different directions in an irregular manner. And in every trial lawyer’s bag of tricks were questions that didn’t require answers, or it didn’t matter what the answers were.
Blakeley began examining Denise as if they were in the divorce court. To show Bill’s considerateness, he asked briefly about fine wines and the time share in New Hampshire and got her to admit Bill had not struck or hit her.
But Blakeley had to travel territory Bea had been forbidden to enter in Mathers’ court and build to the rape.
“Your life took a significant change in 1984, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did.”
“In fact, you started drinking to the point where it interfered with your ability to take care of the child, isn’t that right?”
He hammered her drinking home until she said, “Yes, I am an alcoholic... yes.”
“And in fact, during that period of time, you also were focusing on the fact that you were a parent of this child who was not a planned-for pregnancy, correct?”
She shook her head. “No, I wasn’t focusing on—”
“Didn’t you have occasion many times to argue with Bill Abernathy about the child being in the house?”
“I don’t understand your question.” That was a clear signal to change tack.
So the jury heard about child care, vacuuming, food shopping, laundry.
When the questions became a bit repetitive, Cooke objected and requested a sidebar conference.
“If Your Honor please, this is not a divorce trial and I pray Your Honor’s judgment at some point in regards to how long we’re going to go on about who did what chores and all of that. Unless there’s some particular point to it, it is simply irrelevant to the issue at hand and it is simply going to distract this jury from the issue at hand, which is whether or not this defendant raped his daughter.”
And so, a lengthy legal argument continued between Cooke and Blakeley—Cooke holding that the divorce trial had no business in the criminal trial.
Ankora resolved it. “Let me ask, Mr. Blakeley, I understand one of the themes, if not the theme, of the defense is going to be that the mother may have resented the birth of the child and may have been angry for a number of years, angry at the husband for the birth of the child, and that she, therefore, inspired a false accusation against him.”
“
Absolutely,” Blakeley said. “I’m not going to beat this to death. I’m not trying a divorce case here. I am going to be off this issue in about three more questions.”
When Cooke intervened, Blakeley insisted, “You can object to any question I ask that’s outside the scope of the direct question of whether or not this guy raped his child, but I cannot try the case in a vacuum. I have to be able to elicit the background in this relationship.”
Ankora said, “As I understand it then, the relevance of the questioning is that the mother’s aversion or inability to perform the usual division of labor within the household is evidence that she resented the existence of the child and couldn’t cope with her existence, and therefore resented the father.” He paused. Neither Blakeley nor Cooke moved. “All right, I’ll give you a few more questions on point, but I am concerned—”
“I understand,” Blakeley said, sounding relieved and probably grateful.
Ankora tried again, “I am concerned, if we set about a long course of impugning the mother in front of the jury, A, it’s prejudicial and B, it’s distracting. Also, you could put in a lot of that information through the defendant himself, who I understand will testify. So a few more questions.”
“Okay,” Blakeley said.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Cooke said.
Blakeley laid the foundation of the divorce case so he could use a transcript he’d received from Bea to impeach Denise when she balked. He read in the questions and answers about who did which household chores and then asked “Do you recall that?”
“Yes.”
In this way, all wiggle room for Denise was eliminated. Mathers would have had a fit if Bea had tried to use the divorce transcript to impeach Denise, and Bea would’ve been found in contempt and fined, as he had threatened.
Denise herself was finally confronted with the knowledge that Ankora was not Mathers.
“You stayed home and didn’t really go out and have any activities, and you drank to numb your feelings, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She held her head in both her hands as she admitted a fact she’d always denied.
“And during that period of time, you would agree with me that when he was not working, he would be home and would help take care of the child, correct?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Now, during that period of time, you also had, for that three-year period, fair to say, a lot of arguing in the household?”
Denise’s head stayed still, but her lids blinked rapidly as she answered, “Yes.”
“And the arguing was pretty pointed, in other words, it was dealing with one particular issue, wasn’t it?
“Yes.”
“And there was a lot of shouting about that, wasn’t there?”
“Yes.” Her blinking became more pronounced. Bea hadn’t seen this before.
“And that would be you shouting at him, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Because he never argued with you, did he?”
“He did not argue with me.”
“In fact, isn’t it true that you allege he’d raped you, and as a result of his sexual intercourse with you, Chloe was conceived?”
“I do allege that he raped me and that Chloe was conceived as a result of the rape.” The compound answer from Denise was a rarity.
“July of 1983 was the conception, correct?”
“Yes.”
If Blakeley wanted the frowns, the furrowed brow, the clasping of hands, and the blinking eyes back, he got them.
“There was only one thing you objected to in your marriage to this man, correct?”
“No, there wasn’t one thing that I objected to.” She clasped her hands, hard.
“You were angry and accused him of raping you, right?”
“I was angry and I accused him of raping me, yes.” She held her head in both of her hands. This was what Denise and Cooke had desperately tried to keep out of the trial.
Then Blakeley digressed to the rape story, step by step, leading her with questions containing the answers Bea had gotten from her at the deposition. Occasionally, Blakeley read directly from the transcript.
Her voice remained calm but quavered slightly when testifying about the alleged rape and saying she loved her daughter even though her daughter was the result of the rape. But not once during all of that did she make eye contact with the jury.
Then Blakeley proceeded on to the subject of her counselor, Ruth Stanton.
“I continue to see her today.”
“And the focus of your discussions or your treatment or your therapy was the rape, that he allegedly raped you, correct?”
“And my alcoholism.” Bingo, Bea thought. At least he got the “and.” This was also something she had previously denied.
“Do you work now, by the way?”
“No, I do not.”
“When was the last time you worked?”
“Two years ago.” With Chloe in junior high school, Denise had no reason not to work. Let the jury think about that.
And then the suppository story. “She screamed and would yell and it was a horrible thing when she had the suppositories, and it was Bill who gave her the suppositories, and she went and told you she didn’t like it, right?”
“Yes.”
Laboriously over and over, he reviewed her moving out of the bedroom and visiting with Stanton. On to the karate and the swimming classes.
“You don’t even know that she had a white outfit with a little white belt, do you?”
“She did not have the karate outfit at that time.” Denise claimed Bill had bought the outfit for Chloe when she was six or seven, after he was out of the house.
“And it’s fair to say that in 1989, your marriage was virtually over as husband and wife?”
“Yes.”
“And there were tensions in the household with him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you say to your daughter that you weren’t sleeping in the same bed with your husband because he would attack you?
“No.”
“And you unburdened yourself at the Salem Woods Rape Crisis Center as to how you felt about being a rape victim, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And during those periods of time, you actually participated in group sessions as a rape victim, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And during the period of time that you participated in group sessions as a rape victim, you made statements and you talked about your experiences and your fears and your concerns with your ex, or at the time, husband, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And it was after you had been involved with the rape-crisis center that you then went and made a statement to the group about the puppets you testified to the jury Friday, right?”
“Yes.”
“Carol Tracy then said to you to bring Chloe in, correct?”
“Yes.”
And then, very rapidly but repetitively, as was his style—to give himself time to think what his next question would be—he backtracked to the secret told by the talking hands, the hustling of Chloe upstairs, the discussion with Bill about the hitting game.
“Then you went upstairs and you started talking to Chloe, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you asked Chloe if her father touched her and tickled her, didn’t you?”
“I don’t remember specifically what I asked her.” This Bea found strange inasmuch as Denise remembered everything else.
“Was she crying?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was she upset?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was she confused?”
“Objection to that, Your Honor.”
“I’ll withdraw the question.”
The court said, “All right.”
More about the hitting game—kicking and punching versus kicking and punching playfully—and the fact that Denise never saw any bruises on Chloe. And again, Blakeley occasionally had to use a Bea-transcript to force Denise to give the answer he sought.
“In any event, you obviously had no disclosure of any sexual connotations, correct?”
“No.”
“Never entered your mind, right?”
“It did not.”
“Never entered your mind that the hitting game had anything to do with karate, either, did it?”
“No.”
“The thought never entered your mind on that either, did it?”
“No, it did not.”
Bea could almost hear Blakeley thinking where to go from here. He had to have had an agenda or goal. If he didn’t, he had to find one soon.
“And then another day went by.” He rolled back and forth from the balls of his feet to his toes and back again repeatedly. Bea thought it presaged he was on to something.
“Did you go to work, do you recall?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Did he work the next day?”
“I don’t specifically recall.”
“Well, you’ve got two or three more days, actually, before Chloe is brought by you to the rape counseling center, right?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it true that, in fact, you asked Chloe whether or not Daddy got into bed with her?” There was no evidence that she did. B’god, that’s bait.
“No, I never asked her that.”
“You never had a conversation with her as to him crawling in and out of bed? Did she ever say to you that Dad would crawl in and out of the bed with her?”
“No.”
“Did she ever say to you, ‘my bottom itches’? Did you ever ask her about her bottom?”
“No.”
By gum, he’s got it. That stuff is from the 51B. Bea had learned those reports almost by heart. The bat-lady wrote that Denise said Chloe had told her this. Those two days had to be when Chloe told her. Watch it, Bea. Maybe not. She had a few days between the Tracy and Gidseg interviews.
“You told the jury how you talked with her about penis and vagina, correct? I mean, as far as the names of the parts of the body.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever ask her about good touches and bad touches?”
“No, I don’t, I don’t believe I discussed that with her. I don’t recall.”
“Were you angry?”
“Yes, I was upset and probably angry. I don’t remember being angry, but I was certainly upset.”
“Do you recall asking him whether or not he had done anything inappropriate to her, touching-wise?”
“No.”
“No, you did not, or no, you don’t recall?”
“No, I did not ask him if he had— Well, I guess I’m confused. I thought it was inappropriate for him to be kicking her and scratching her and pinching her and punching her.”
Suddenly they were back into the cycle of “but you saw no bruises.”
Blakeley picked up a piece of paper and appeared to read it and then looked up at Denise and asked, “And you recall telling Rachel Gidseg, the DSS social worker, that the child complained to you that her bottom was itchy? Do you recall saying that?”
“I don’t recall saying that, no.” He’s reading from the 51B without letting on that he’s reading from it.
Again glancing at the 51B and looking up, he asked, “Do you recall saying to Ms. Gidseg that Chloe also said her father would come into her bedroom at night and bother her? Did you say that?”
“I don’t remember saying that at all.”
“Did you say to her that the father would come into the bedroom at night and wake her up? Do you recall saying that? And then Mother mentioned this in her group.” He was giving the jury the signal those words were on the paper he was reading. “Do you recall discussing it in your group, Ma’am?”
“About her father coming in?”
“Yes,” Blakeley said.
Denise said, “No, I don’t remember anything about that at all.” Not remembering was, of course, not denying doing it. Denise had learned a lot about answering over the years.
“Would you agree with me that—” Blakeley suddenly stopped and asked the court, “May I approach, Your Honor?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to object, Your Honor,” Cooke said.
His Honor asked, surprised, “Objection to approaching and showing the transcript?”
“That’s correct, Your Honor.”
“I’ll withdraw the question,” Blakeley offered.
He had probably wanted to ask the court to accept the report with the proviso that it be authenticated by Gidseg later, and then had realized Gidseg was in Florida and would not be available to say she wrote it. Bea thought, You can still show it to her and ask her to read it to herself! That’ll be enough to open her up!
A few questions later, Blakeley decided to do just that. “Now, may I approach the witness, Your Honor, just to show her?”
“All right.”
“I’m going to ask you to look at this and just read it to yourself.”
“Mr. Blakeley, just for the record, could you identify the document?”
“Yes, Your Honor, certainly.” Then he identified the 51B, the bat-lady’s report, and had Denise read it. But Denise maintained she had no memory of saying what the report stated she said. So Blakeley moved on to the day Denise brought Chloe to see Tracy.
“And then you started to weep a little bit and said, ‘This is my beautiful daughter, Chloe.’ Do you recall saying that to Ms. Cooke?”
“Yes.” That was not a Denise expression. Michael had picked up on Cooke’s mirage.
“Is that the way you introduced Chloe to Carol Tracy?”
“I did.”
“Were you weeping at that point?”
“I was not weeping.”
And then Blakeley had a stroke of luck. He had simply been asking Denise what Tracy had said to her after interviewing Chloe: “Was that the first indication you had that your daughter was sexually abused by her father?”
“Carol had suggested the possibility the night before when—”
“So Carol told you before she talked to the child—”
“She wanted me to bring Chloe in.”
“So she told you before she even talked to the child there was a possibility of sexual abuse because of the hitting game, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, and the night before, did you go back, did you talk to Chloe at all and tell her you were going to bring her in to talk to your friend Carol?”
“No.”
This is wonderful. Bea immediately thought. He can impeach her with Tracy’s report. That first question to Chloe: “Do you know why you’re here?” It explains away how Chloe could’ve made the statements she made to Tracy before she went to Hilda Crowleys’ group and heard the other kids’ stories of sexual abuse be their fathers.
Bea found herself breaking into a sweat. Her adrenaline was up. M’god, it was just by accident. It points to Denise telling Chloe about sexual abuse or rape. An accident that could not have happened at the Mathers trial because rape-center questions were verboten.
“And Carol told you, by the way, to get a restraining order, right?”
“No... she may have suggested it.”
“Well, you went to the court downstairs and you got a restraining order right away, right?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Now, up to that point, did you have any conversations with your daughter about her being in fear of her life, Ma’am? Of her father?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Well, Carol certainly didn’t say to you the child was in fear of her life, right?”
“No.”
“And up to that point, at least from your testimony, he had not ever raised a hand to you or threatened you or threatened you with your life, had he?”
“No.”
“In fact, you went to the court and you submitted an affidavit, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you told the judge in the Probate Court ‘Both my daughter and I are in fear of our lives at this time,’ correct?”
“I don’t recall. It was in there, but I think it was something like that.”
“May I approach the individual, Your Honor?”
“Yes.”
He handed her the affidavit. “Do you recognize that?”
“This is my signature. I do remember that, yes.” Bea was surprised. Bill had never told her the affidavit wasn’t in Denise’s handwriting. And she’d never thought to compare it with Denise’s diary!
She’d gotten them almost a year apart.
“Okay. Who wrote this up for you?”
“There was a legal aid. I don’t remember her name.”
“A legal aid wrote it up for you and you read it, didn’t you, before you signed it under the pains and penalties of perjury?”
“Yes.”
“And, in fact, you had indicated to the judge that ‘On Wednesday, July 26th, my five year old daughter related a secret to me involving suspected sexual abuse by her father.’ Correct?”
“That’s what is written down there,” Denise answered.
“Right, and that, ‘Both my daughter and I are in fear of our lives at this time.’ Correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you indicated you’re ‘afraid of him, as you’ve been under regular counseling for his forcibly raping you a few years ago’ and you’re in ‘constant fear of him raping you again,’ right?”
“I believe that’s in the affidavit, yes.”
Blakeley was fully on his toes now, walking toward Denise. “I don’t mean to take advantage of you.
This certainly is the document.”
Cooke said, “I have no objection to that being admitted, Your Honor.”
As the affidavit was being marked as Exhibit 1, Bea remembered the trial with Mathers and how he would not let her put the whole affidavit in. Bitch, bitch, bitch, Bea said to herself, Goddamn unethical bitch. She had had no f’n reason to object to it before Mathers either. Damn righteous bitch.
Holier than thou, damn righteous unethical bitch. How can she live with herself ruining people’s lives like this? Denying the father the child, and the child the father.
While Bea was preoccupied with her own thoughts, Blakeley had been letting Denise reread the affidavit.
“Now, when that was submitted to the judge down in the Probate Court after you signed it, you got a restraining order, correct?”
“Yes.”
Blakeley then tried with many questions to get Denise to admit she accused Bill, after getting the order, of raping the child. But Denise, clenching her hands together, held fast and denied it.
“And what did he say when you told him he was suspected of having sexually abused Chloe?”
“He asked me who told me that or where I got that information?” Her lids were blinking rapidly again.
“And did you tell him?”
“I don’t remember what I told him.”
“He was very upset, wasn’t he?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t—” she said, frowning, “I was upset, myself. I wasn’t—”
“He was very upset, wasn’t he? Do you remember that much, at least?”
“I’m sure— I don’t know.” She unclenched her hands. “I don’t remember. No.” One hand had gone to her brow.
Misgivings
While the jury was enjoying their mid-morning coffee break in the deliberation room, Bea, near the back of the room, was the first person to get to the corridor after the jury filed out. Then Denise and Cooke left the courtroom. Bea, like Denise, was wondering whether she’d been too quick to kick Hugh out, too quick to pass judgment. And like Denise, she had felt betrayed.
Suddenly, the pack of people from the hospital who came to support Bill were coming out in 2s, 3s, and 4s. Bill’s old boss wasn’t there. The doctor had been transferred. Denzil Fillmore was there. Smiling, Bea waved and mouthed, Thank you. Then she saw someone who looked like Jennifer Ouellette. Bea wasn’t sure. This woman looked tired. Bea had remembered Jennifer as more vibrant.
“Denise looks dysfunctional,” someone said.
“What do you mean ‘looks’ dysfunctional, she is dysfunctional. All she does is stay home all day.
How can she? The child is in school.”
Someone else said, “The child looked robotic.”
“I don’t think she wanted to testify.”
“Uncomfortable. That’s what she was. I think she believed she had to testify.”
“Brainwashed.”
“Can you imagine Bill having to go through this?”
“I understand he speaks to his daughter every week on the phone.”
“Yes, but Denise listens in!”
“And he hasn’t been able to see his daughter in years.”
Okay, Bea, she said to herself, how can you compare yourself to her? But deeper down, she still feared she was kidding herself. Denise had said over and over at her deposition the communication failed. And Bea remembered her own pompous humor, her own self-righteousness in concluding that Denise was equating communication with confrontation. Did you communicate that to him? Bea had asked in essence. Yes, I confronted him. Did you attempt to communicate with him, tell him you loved him? Tell him wanted him back? No, she hadn’t. Why won’t they talk? Why won’t they listen?
Bea had managed to depress herself despite the morning not being so bad. Maybe they do... maybe they do.
She decided to go outside for a cigarette first. The coffee line would thin out by then.
The Big C
Responding to Wendell Ankora at a sidebar requested by Cooke, Blakeley explained he wanted to inquire about Denise’s monitoring Bill’s phone calls with Chloe.
“Because the next step to develop through these meetings or supervised visitations is that she wants no more telephone contact and she wants no visits in the home. She wants to restrict everything and actually exclude visits over the course of about a two-year period—any contact at all, including at the MSPCC office. It’s just part of the overall control this woman has over this child. If she says, ‘No, I don’t,’ I can ask her if she recalls doing something.” Blakeley was saying, I don’t give a damn whether she said, I saw a moon made of green cheese, I just want to show she said it.
“What do you say to the basic theme?” Ankora asked Cooke. “Counsel wants to develop the point that Mrs. Abernathy was gradually narrowing down and closing off communication between father and daughter.”
“Whatever she said over the course of seven or eight years is hearsay,” Cooke replied.
Ankora said, “As I hear it, we don’t have literal hearsay. The statements are not being offered for their truth. That is, the questions are going to ask Mrs. Abernathy what she said or did. I infer that if she falters or doesn’t remember, counsel will approach with the report?”
“Yes, to refresh her memory,” Blakeley said.
“Do you recall speaking to Kristin Uhler from MSPCC,” Blakeley asked Denise, “and indicating that Chloe speaks with her father on Tuesday evenings and that you monitor the calls by being on the line?”
“I don’t recall telling Kristin Uhler anything, really.”
“Do you recall indicating you feel his style is to utilize subtle intimidation and, therefore, his communications with Chloe should be carefully monitored? Do you recall saying that?”
“I don’t recall what I said to Kristin Uhler.”
With permission, Blakeley approached Denise and asked her to look at Uhler’s report. Denise still maintained she didn’t remember saying that to Uhler, but she did admit Chloe wanted visits with her father.
“Do you recall that?”
“I have a faint memory of that.”
“A faint memory of that,” he echoed her, and then asked, with a bit of snide, “Can you try to use your faint memory to remember what your daughter told you in September 1989 about talking to other children about how their fathers hurt them?” The question brought forth no answer.
Bea, too, chuckled at the words “faint memory.” Blakeley evidently saw a use for those potentially delicious words, but got waylaid by them and got pushed off the track he was on.
He got back on track with the rules—the no-whispering and no-touching rules—to show Denise’s intent to control Chloe and Bill. Using Heather’s process notes, he pointed out all the times Denise called to complain about the previous visitation.
“No touching at all, and that would include a hug, it would include a handshake, it would include any physical contact, right?”
“Yes.”
Savoring that answer, Blakeley added one more question, one more poignantly worded, on the subject for the jury to hear. “Do you agree that the no-touching rule literally meant no touch at all. Don’t hug, don’t touch, don’t even brush the hair out of his eyes. Isn’t that what that meant, Ma’am?”
“At the very end, yes, it was no touching at all.”
Then Blakeley hammered on every instance when Denise invoked her rule of no-touching at the home visits, forcing her to give almost the longest answer she’d given in any of the proceedings.
“They evolved over the two-year period when the visitation took place in my home. They were supposed to stay within my sight and no-whispering, and by the end of the two-year period, there was no touching.”
He even hammered home her refusal to allow Bill’s sister to accompany Bill on the Saturday visits to the home, and her refusal to get Bill his clothes from upstairs when he visited with his father. Then he hammered home her putting Bill’s clothes in a plastic trashbag outside. Just a few more wrinkles on the Big C.
At a sidebar, Cooke said, “Your Honor, please, all he’s doing is reading these records that he cannot get into evidence and—”
“It’s the history of visitation, Your Honor.” Of no relevance to the charge of rape, he was using the history only to show control by Denise. Cooke was missing the crucial point.
“But that doesn’t mean he can read it,” Cooke complained, wincing. “Just because there’s some records there doesn’t mean you can read them into evidence, and that’s what he’s doing here.
Granted, he’s saying, Do you recall it, but that doesn’t mean it’s admissible, just whether a person recalls it or not. It has to be admissible on its own before you can start asking—”
Blakeley said, “Can I point out that more than three-quarters of the questions I’ve asked her asked if she at some point recalled. Whether it’s not right away, after I beat her, she has a faint recall, a faint memory, and a faint recollection. So this is not improper cross-examination.”
The judge said, ‘I think the problem may be one of form more than substance. That is to say, as I understand it, you have the DSS intake document.”
“No,” Blakeley said, “these are actual observations, the clinical contacts. I’m not getting into this stuff except for her: this is Mother says, Mother calls, Mother complains, Mother does certain things.
How else can I cross-examine her?”
“Who is recording the material in the document you’re using?”
“The social worker, Heather Bruce.”
“So these are statements by the social worker—”
“Who’s available,” Blakeley said, finishing Ankora’s statement. By saying “available,” Blakeley was telling the judge, Heather could be called as a witness to authenticate her notes.
“So these statements purport to record positions, actions, or statements by Denise Abernathy... I think you’re entitled to pursue them.” He addressed Cooke. “The problem or problems may be ones more of form.” The judge was saying that the substance of the material was more important than the form in which it is presented.
But Cooke persisted, contending Denise’s statements were being taken out of context. Blakeley saying not.
“I think if you’d slow it down more,” Ankora said to Blakeley. “I think the key words may be, ‘Did you ever say.’” Ankora certainly was not Mathers. “And give her some breathing space in which to answer. Naturally, the prosecutor is free to go back and do any necessary rehabilitation or elaboration upon the points.” Then he wanted to know how much longer Blakeley would be on cross. Blakeley said he should be finished by lunch.
“All right, I’m not going to curtail your right of cross because of the importance of the witness, but we’re getting some diminishing utility, I think, to some of the questions.”
“Do you recall indicating the visits were having an adverse impact on Chloe, the intensity of the visits were too much for her and, in fact, they should possibly be eliminated in the future? Does that refresh your memory?
“No.”
“Did you ever talk to Chloe about her father going to jail?”
“I certainly have.”
Issue after issue in Heather’s notes—the handcuff game, Bill’s moving closer to the family home, Bill’s letters to Chloe in Heather’s office—all became subjects that Blakeley implied were Denise’s means for gaining and keeping control. He also wanted Denise’s take on Heather’s process notes because Heather’s name had appeared on the Commonwealth’s witness list for this trial. She hadn’t been on the list for the Mathers trial.
“‘He’s digging his own grave.’ Did you ever say that?”
“No.” He didn’t pursue her denial. He just left it out there for the jury’s consumption.
“You wished he would shrivel up and die?”
She had no memory of saying that. He left that, too.
A Mother’s Love
On redirect examination, by which Cooke was to repair any damage done by Blakeley on his cross-examination, Cooke wanted to know whether Denise’s personal therapist had referred her to the rape-crisis center. The apparent purpose of Cooke’s question was to take the onus off Denise for bringing Chloe to the rape center.
Blakeley immediately interrupted and asked the judge, “Ruth Stanton, is she on the witness list?”
“Ruth Stanton is not on the witness list,” Ankora said.
After putting the onus on Ruth Stanton, Cooke went on to another subject.
“Are there some errors in that restraining order?”
“It was composed by a legal aid.”
When Denise failed to give Cooke a straight answer, a yes or a no, Bea thought, She’s lost confidence in Cooke to protect her.
“When I say that, in other words, are there some inaccuracies in the information contained in the restraining order?” Cooke was insisting on a proper answer. She knew how to control her witness.
“Yes.”
Sure, the entire affidavit is a lie.
The DA-witness relationship repaired, Cooke finally began repairing the damage Blakeley had done.
Cooke asked a few more questions of no consequence.
“At some point, did Chloe stop seeing the defendant?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Could you tell the jurors approximately when that was?”
“In 1992.”
“Can you tell the jurors why Chloe stopped seeing the defendant?”
“The visitation center required Bill to sign a form listing their rules, and he refused to sign it, so they refused to supervise the visits.” Whereupon Cooke put the SWFCC visitation rules into evidence.
Blakeley didn’t object.
“Once Chloe was born, did you love her?”
“Very much.”
“And do you continue to love her today?”
“Yes, I do.”
On recross, Blakeley continued Cooke’s issue. “You certainly agree Bill loves her, as well?”
“Yes.”
“You indicated you objected to Hilda Crowley’s Victim of Sexual Addiction program. Apparently, you didn’t like your daughter talking to other alleged rape victims and the mixing of non-offending parents or something? Isn’t that what you said?”
“I said I objected to mixing offenders with non-offenders.”
“Isn’t it true, in fact, you objected to Hilda Crowley because she had you fill out a psychological form and noted you were—”
“Objection, Your Honor. Objection, Your Honor, objection,” Cooke said.
The judge suggested a sidebar.
Blakeley wanted to move on. “I’ll avoid the psychological issue, Your Honor.” Which he did. But the jury heard there was one.
Finally, he asked, “Do you recall telling Heather Bruce that Hilda Crowley was confrontational, and told you that you had to trust her. Then she asked if you had trouble listening? Did you tell that to
Heather Bruce?”
“I don’t remember.”
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