Rising from her chair, Natalie crossed the room over to Marjorie. She placed a hand gently on the older woman’s bony shoulder, sending her a look layered with sympathy.
“Before we get into all this history,” Natalie said, “I brought you something from my home that I’d like to share. Let me go to my car and get it. Let’s start with a lighter topic.”
Marjorie sent Natalie an appreciative look, and with that she was off, returning moments later with a white photo album clutched to her chest.
“I’d like you to get to know your grandchildren,” she said, encouraging Marjorie to join her on the couch. She did, sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch, and Natalie placed her hand atop of Marjorie’s, feeling the delicate bones underneath cool skin thin as rice paper. A lump appeared in Natalie’s throat. Her eyes welled. Blinking back tears, she could see Marjorie’s eyes filling as well.
“Their names are Addison, Addie for short, and Bryce,” Natalie said, giving Marjorie’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“Those are very lovely names,” said Marjorie as she pried open the album.
After an hour of sharing pictures and stories of the children, a few tissues needed along the way, Marjorie and Natalie felt more at ease with each other, both relaxing on the couch like two old friends catching up. Following a brief pause in conversation, Marjorie sat up straighter, seemingly resigned to diving into the topic they’d been avoiding.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said quietly. “You deserve answers, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Natalie returned a succession of grim nods.
“Thank you,” she said. “I guess what I want to know is what really happened. Why did he change his name and tell me that you had died? I know what I’ve read in the news reports, but I want to hear it from your perspective.”
Marjorie clenched then relaxed her jaw.
“It was a terrible time for us all,” she began, breaking eye contact to look out the window, perhaps refocusing her vision on the past. “Joseph and Brianna were dating back then. It didn’t seem like there was anything unusual about their relationship. He was older, a senior, and she a sophomore—that was something to keep an eye on.
“The real problem was the mother, Helen. She was a very religious woman, quite strict, and Brianna was something of a rebel, a black sheep, especially compared to her sister, Audrey, who was very much the good girl. Helen worried that my son and her daughter were sexually active, and I don’t think she was wrong to be concerned. I believe they were.
“Anyway, she kept coming between them, and eventually she convinced her daughter to break it off for good with Joseph. He was utterly devastated. Wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, it was just terrible. As a mother, I felt helpless. I just couldn’t reach him. He slipped into a dark depression. I’d never seen him so broken.”
Natalie felt a stir of sadness thinking of her husband suffering as a teen, flashing on how she’d react if Bryce one day fell into a similar state of despair.
“As you can imagine Brianna’s murder was all the town could talk about, think about. There was no escaping it. As soon as Joseph became a suspect, we became prisoners in our own lives.”
Marjorie detailed the harrowing search efforts in which Joseph participated, but whispers followed. She shared some of what was said.
He did it. He killed her. He’s pretending to cry, to care. Look at him. His hands are covering his eyes because he doesn’t want other people to see his guilt. Watch how he’s pulling at his shirt. He’s nervous. He’s literally trying to loosen his collar to get more oxygen.
“I’m ashamed to say that after a while I had a hard time shutting out all the doubters and naysayers. In my heart, I knew my son was innocent—or that’s what I told myself. He couldn’t have done anything to hurt Brianna. He loved her.”
Natalie didn’t voice her view that love could be a twisted person’s reason for murder, a punishment for rejection. It was why she’d been afraid to leave Michael outright and simply ask for a divorce. She feared his retribution.
“His father wasn’t nearly as convinced of his innocence. And Joseph had something of a temper. He could be quite explosive at times. His father tried to force a confession out of Joseph. One night I had to call the police because the two got into an extremely heated argument, and I was worried for their safety.
“A few days after that fight, Joseph moved out. He went to stay with a friend; he wouldn’t talk to us anymore. My marriage fell apart not long after that. I couldn’t stand the sight of my husband. How could he turn his back on his own son? But the damage was done. Joseph, your Michael, wouldn’t talk to me anymore. He’d convinced himself that I didn’t believe him either, that I was saying one thing to his face and another behind his back.”
Marjorie’s shoulders were slouched, her face set and sad. Natalie put her mug down on the coffee table. She’d been curious about Michael’s father, but wasn’t about to ask to see a picture of the man. Let him be a mystery. It was hard enough dealing with the ghosts in this room.
“Our house was vandalized multiple times,” said Marjorie. “I couldn’t go out, not even to the market, couldn’t see friends either. My son was all over the news. The press hounded us day and night. It was relentless.
“Then they found Brianna’s body in the Marshlands Conservancy. She was half naked, badly decomposed, her throat slit. Police were able to put Joseph at the scene of the crime, and they felt they had enough for an arrest. What they didn’t have was any forensic evidence, and the jury acquitted him on all charges, but that was hardly the end of it. Nobody believed the verdict.
“I was in the courtroom that day, not that Joseph wanted me there. We weren’t on speaking terms by that point, but I was there, of course I was. I cried when the verdict was announced. The jury was ushered out of the courthouse under police protection, that’s how intense it was, the outrage was everywhere. Even today the verdict still stuns and upsets people—former friends who can’t believe my boy walked free and then just disappeared.”
“Why did the jury acquit him? Did you ever find out?” Natalie asked, sounding surprised.
“Oh yes.” Marjorie gave a derisive little laugh. “The jury felt a pressing need to explain themselves. The problem, they said, was that the prosecution didn’t give enough evidence to convict. They gave a lot of circumstantial evidence that made them think that Joseph was involved, that he could have done it, but not beyond a reasonable doubt. The lead prosecutor was also quite vicious and arrogant, and that didn’t help the prosecution.
“It didn’t hurt that Joseph had a great attorney. He might not have wanted to speak to his parents anymore, but he had no trouble taking our money to pay for his defense. But enough about the past—tell me about Audrey?”
Marjorie sounded desperate to change the subject.
“I’m not sure what to tell,” said Natalie, feeling a rush of blood to her ears.