“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him.”
“You didn’t know anything about Luis Velez, either. What about the elderly woman who was in court with this young man yesterday? Do you remember her?”
“I do.”
“What if she was walking behind you?”
“That’s a preposterous question.”
“Why?”
“Because she couldn’t outrun a two-year-old on a wobbly tricycle. Why, she can’t even see. What possible harm could she do me?”
“So it’s about the physical ability to do harm.”
“Well, yes. He was a big man. A big man can hurt me.”
“How did you know?”
“How did I know what?”
“How did you know he was a big man? You hadn’t turned around yet.”
“I saw reflections in the windows as we passed them.”
“I see. I can’t imagine that would provide much detail. Especially since it was nearly dark.”
“It did, though. Plenty of detail. I could see him very well. Everything about him. He was big. He probably outweighed me by a hundred pounds.”
“And I outweigh you by sixty or seventy, but you say you don’t find me threatening. And whether it’s seventy or a hundred, you’re still outmatched.”
“I know what you’re getting at,” Hatfield spat. “And I don’t appreciate it.”
“What am I getting at?”
“You’re suggesting prejudice.”
“Am I?”
“You know you are, now don’t play games with me. Look, all I knew is that he was a man and he was big. I didn’t even know anything about his . . . you know. Race or nationality. How could I? I hadn’t even looked around.”
“But you said you saw him in reflections in the windows. You said the images were very detailed. You said you saw everything about him.”
“You’re a very frustrating man,” she said, blowing out an audible breath of disgust.
“All I’m doing is going over what you could possibly have known about Luis Velez so we can figure out what part of it felt threatening to you. You knew he was a man, that he was big, and that he was Latino.”
“That’s not why. There are other things you’re not taking into account. Feelings you get. Sometimes a person just feels menacing, and you can’t point to why. You just know it.”
“But he wasn’t menacing, Ms. Hatfield. We’ve well established that you were wrong about that. He was just about the least menacing person you could have had walking behind you. He was a good Samaritan. He was trying to make you see that you had dropped an important item. He was a loving husband and father. Three times a week he rode more than half an hour round-trip on the subway to help an elderly blind woman do her errands.”
“But I had no way of knowing that!”
The defendant was shouting now. Raymond was typing as fast as he could.
“But you said you’re a very good judge of character. You said sometimes a person just feels menacing and you know it. Something threw your sense of judgment way off, and I’m trying to get to the bottom of what it was.”
“You’re just trying to trip me up!” She was standing now, as if ready to walk off the stand without permission. “I need a break from this. Do I get to take a break?”
“No need, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. “I have no more questions.”
“Oh my,” Mrs. G said. “The man is very good at his job!”
Raymond had just finished reading her the notes he’d taken during the afternoon session.
She was still in bed. He was sitting on one of the dining room chairs that he’d pulled into her bedroom.
He looked up. Closed the cover of his laptop.
“So that was all for the day?” she asked.
“No. It dragged on. But I didn’t take too many notes after that because it wasn’t as interesting. It didn’t seem to change much. Her attorney questioned her again, but just to sort of try to repair the damage. He just kept asking questions that went to how normal it is to make a mistake. How perfectly good people make mistakes. And then the officer who was first on the scene testified, but he didn’t have all that much to add. He didn’t see it happen. It was just a lot of repetition with him.”
“So what is left to the trial? Do you know?”
“Well, the defense and the prosecution both rested at the end of the day.”
“So jury deliberations tomorrow? That was fast.”
“I think closing statements and then jury deliberation.”
“Oh. Closing statements, yes. But the jury will go out tomorrow.”
“Looks that way,” he said, thinking she didn’t seem rested enough to attend.
“I will have to be there, then.”
“You sure you’re up to going?”
“I will be there because I have to be there.”
“I could call you from the courthouse and tell you how it went.”
“No,” she said. With surprising firmness. It was a “no” he knew it would be pointless to question. “I need to be there when the verdict is announced. Oh. By the way. That nice woman called.”
“What nice woman?”
“The one whose husband is also Luis Velez. She got this number from the caller ID.”
“Oh. Yeah. She is a nice woman.”
“Very much, yes. We talked for a long time. She had already seen the story about Luis in the paper, so she knew what had happened, but she was very happy to hear from you again. She invited us to come to a Sunday supper with them. Anytime we want. We are just to call and let them know which Sunday we would like to come, so they know to make extra. She said she will make again that chocolate cake you liked so much.”
“Would you want to do that?”
“I don’t see why not,” she said. “In my very long life so far I have never met a Luis Velez I didn’t like.”
Chapter Fifteen
* * *
Objective Reality, or Lack of Same