When we entered the courtroom, I spotted Janice Martinez at the front of the spectators’ rows, conferring with a male lawyer on the other side of the bar. I assumed he was the prosecutor. A quick scan revealed neither Kerry Lynch nor Rachel Sutton. When Martinez sat alone in the first row as the judge finally took the bench, I allowed myself a sigh of relief. Coming there with Jason had been hard enough. I did not think I was strong enough to be in the same room with that woman.
Twenty minutes and two cases later, I flinched when I heard the courtroom door open. I snuck a quick glance over my shoulder, steeling myself for Kerry’s entrance. The late arrival was Susanna. She had promised to do her best to make it after New Day aired, but her schedule was notoriously unpredictable.
She gave me a light pat on the knee and slid a few inches down the bench. The courtroom was full of reporters.
It felt as if all eyes were on me as the bailiff called Jason’s case and the judge asked Olivia about the pending motion.
“Your Honor, our motion seeks two objectives—one that I believe is uncontroversial, one that may require explanation. In the interests of efficiency—”
“You decided we should err on the side of discussion. Oh joy. Please tell me.”
According to Olivia, the judge, Betty Jenner, was far more defense-oriented than she appeared. In her spare time, she apparently loved wine, art, and the theater. In the courtroom, she enjoyed unleashing her dry wit to keep lawyers on their toes.
I followed along while Olivia recited the dates of Jason’s arraignment and the filing of the civil suit. “I have filed several demands for discovery, including subpoenas to ADA King for access to any evidence pertaining to the lawsuit filed by Ms. Martinez.” Olivia also listed a host of reasons to set over Jason’s criminal case while the lawsuit was pending.
The few times I’d seen Olivia in person, she seemed so normal. Better than normal, really. Sexy, confident, a little bit mean. I even wondered if she and Colin had something going on. Now, in court, she seemed completely different. My mind wandered, thinking about how most people spent their whole lives playing a character. Not me, or at least I didn’t think so.
The judge was asking the prosecutor, Brian King, his position on Olivia’s request for evidence.
“Your Honor, the subpoena was served only three days ago.”
“So I gather you haven’t turned anything over yet.” She did not sound happy with the response.
“Some of the evidence is digital, and to be honest, we were caught off guard by this civil suit.”
The judge offered a wry smile, appearing to appreciate the backhanded comment. “So what you’re telling me is that the discovery is forthcoming? Do we have a date?”
“Imminent, Your Honor.”
“Oh, imminent. How exciting. Should I set my Apple Watch?”
“End of business today.”
“Five o’clock. Excellent. Now, I’m assuming that was the easy part. What are we doing about two cases pending about the same subject matter?”
“They’re not the same,” the prosecutor said. As he defended the difference between a private civil suit and a criminal prosecution brought by the state, I remembered a lawyer explaining the same thing to me when my parents filed a lawsuit on my behalf against the estate of Charles Franklin. He was dead, so we couldn’t send him to prison, but I still had a civil suit to pursue. It turned out that a Pittsburgh contractor could afford a house and a Lexus and only have a total net worth of about a hundred and fifty grand, but it allowed my parents to hold on to their house until I started pitching in, too.
The prosecutor concluded his remarks by suggesting that both cases could proceed separately and simultaneously.
“And what do your complainants desire, Mr. King?”
“You’d have to ask Ms. Martinez, Your Honor.”
The judge’s eyes widened. “You haven’t consulted with your own victims?”
“Our communications are going through Ms. Martinez, who, when notified of the defendant’s motion, decided to appear today personally.”
“Well, how courteous, and I’m sure not at all related to the number of reporters here.”
A few chuckles broke out in the courtroom. How could anyone find this humorous? My husband’s future was at stake.
Maybe I was biased, but Janice Martinez’s voice struck me as nasal and screechy. “Judge, I represent two women in the pending civil case against Jason Powell. As I already explained to both Ms. Randall and ADA King, my clients aren’t officially taking a position on the current motion. However, I would like to note that having two cases pending at once would likely lead to delays in both.”
“That sounds to me like a position, Ms. Martinez.”
“Simply an observation.”
“Uh-huh. You don’t have a preference to resolve the criminal case first?” The judge was tapping her fingers on her bench, appearing to make a point that was lost on me.
“No, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded, as if some suspicion had been confirmed.
The prosecutor must have understood the unspoken exchange of information, because he jumped in to stop whatever was about to happen. “This move is a blatant attempt by the defendant to use the civil case to buy his way out of the criminal justice system. Once the parties reach a financial settlement, Ms. Randall will argue that it affects the validity of our criminal case.”
Both Olivia and Martinez interjected. Olivia called the prosecutor “paranoid.” Martinez said the argument was “offensive.”
The judge wasn’t happy, either. “I’d be careful, Counselor. If I didn’t know better, it sounds like you’re accusing your own victims of being open to the idea of selling their testimony, and I’m sure you didn’t mean to suggest such a thing. Now, in the interests of judicial economy—”
The prosecutor was already shaking his head, hands on hips. Something in my gut told me he was the one who was right.
“You have something to say, Mr. King?” the judge asked. “If not, I’m tolling this prosecution for thirty days. Unless there’s some problem, I expect not to hear from any of you until then. Ms. Randall, Ms. Martinez—it sounds like the two of you should talk.”
Outside the courtroom, Olivia asked if she could borrow Jason alone. As they made their way to the far end of the hallway, a man I recognized from the courtroom started to follow them, but Olivia turned around and barked, “Get near me while I’m talking to a client, and I’ll never talk to the Post again.” The chastened reporter dashed to the elevator in time to catch the closing doors.
Once Susanna and I were alone, I asked her if she understood the judge’s decision.
“It sounded to me like those women are willing to take money instead of going forward with the criminal case.”
“Isn’t that bribery?”
“It’s a fine line. You can’t pay a witness for silence, but if the parties reach a settlement, the DA might drop the charges. At the very least, any judge would read between the lines and be lenient in sentencing.”
“I guess that’s good news overall, right?” I couldn’t believe that paying off my husband’s mistress and intern passed for good news these days.
“Well, I’m afraid I have bad news.”
She led me to a nearby bench to sit down. “Wilson Stewart, that intern who hooked up with Rachel, called me. That’s why I was late.”
I felt a knot tightening in my stomach.
“He wanted me to know that he exaggerated what he said.”
“How so?”
“He said he made her sound flakier and more histrionic than she really is. He also said Jason’s lawyer made it clear that Jason was impressed with his work and was looking forward to helping him land in a good job, but that he couldn’t do that if he was brought down by a false claim.”
“Honestly? I don’t put anything past that woman. I’m just glad she’s on our side, not theirs.”
“To be clear, Wilson still says he has no idea what really happened and has never seen Jason be anything but professional.”
“Uh-huh,” I said vacantly.
“So did you know Olivia had dangled a job recommendation in front of him before I agreed to have him on the show?”
I said nothing. What does it really mean to “know” anything?
“Angela, you let me put a man on television to lie.”
“I didn’t think he was lying. Olivia was the one who set it all up—”