Chapter Forty-Eight
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Yesterday, Claire drove in a luxurious Mercedes Benz to St. Louis. The trip back to Iowa City—riding in the back of a police wagon, wearing handcuffs and accompanied by a uniformed officer—wasn’t as comfortable. When they arrived, the county courthouse steps were filled with reporters and photographers. Claire tried to shield her face as people took pictures from all directions and shouted questions—“Why did you try to kill your husband?” “Did you do it for the money?” “Did you think you would get away with it?” Thankfully, the police rushed her through the crowd and into the building.
She couldn’t believe what she heard. How could they possibly be asking such questions? Claire worried about Emily. First John and now her—what must she be going through? Claire reassured herself, once Tony wakes, he’ll take care of everything.
The officer took Claire to another room with a table and Marcus Evergreen entered. She recognized him immediately. He attended her wedding, and she accompanied Tony to one of his fund-raisers. Claire thought Tony donated to his campaign. “Mrs. Rawlings, I’m Marcus Evergreen, chief prosecutor for Johnson County.”
“Yes, Mr. Evergreen, I believe we’ve met.” Claire held out her hand. Mr. Evergreen didn’t accept.
“Yes, I believe we have; however, this is a different situation and different circumstances. Mrs. Rawlings, I’m currently holding a warrant for your arrest recently signed by Judge Reynolds. Just so you know, before we reach the district courtroom for your arraignment, you’re being charged with the attempted murder of your husband, Anthony Rawlings.”
“I want you to know I didn’t do such a thing—I wouldn’t do such a thing. How is Tony?” When Claire added the last question, Mr. Evergreen’s eyes dropped to the table. Claire’s heart sank. Oh my God, he’s dead! No—then he would have said “murder” not “attempted.”
“He’s awake and conscious. He’s given a statement to the police, but he won’t be here today.”
Claire was relieved to hear he was conscious, but she needed him to be here. He would help and take her home. She wanted to explain things to him. There was no doubt, he’d be upset about her leaving and driving and there would be consequences; however, Claire was confident he’d know she would never try to kill him.
“I’m very happy he’s better. Can you tell me what evidence there is against me?” Claire didn’t know how this worked, but she thought she needed to find out.
“It will be discussed with you and your attorney after the arraignment.” He left the room.
With her wrists once again in handcuffs, Claire was led into the courtroom. She watched the proceedings from a distance—seeing it all—yet not comprehending it as reality. Judge Reynolds spoke—asking questions of Mr. Evergreen. He explained how the state believed it had sufficient evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Mrs. Claire Rawlings did willfully and maliciously attempt to murder her husband—Anthony Rawlings—in an effort to profit financially. Furthermore, Mrs. Rawlings fled the scene of the crime and was found near St. Louis. Mrs. Rawlings has access to a passport and the financial ability to flee. Mr. Evergreen asked the judge to suspend bail.
Judge Reynolds said, “Mrs. Rawlings, do you understand that you’re being charged with a felony—attempted murder? And if convicted, you could be sentenced to a federal penitentiary for a length not to exceed 162 months?”
“Yes, Judge, I understand.” That wasn’t true—she didn’t understand.
“Are you aware that you have the right to an attorney? If you cannot afford one, one can be appointed for you. You also have the right to a trial by a jury of your peers. You also are presumed innocent. It is the burden of the state to prove your guilt. Do you understand your rights?”
“Yes, Judge, I understand.” Claire maintained eye contact with the bench—she had a lot of practice maintaining eye contact in difficult situations.
“Mrs. Rawlings, do you have an attorney?”
“No, Judge, I do not, and I can’t afford one.”
“The court will appoint one to you following the arraignment.” Judge Reynolds reviewed the file before her. “Due to the publicity and significance of the victim, I’m setting bond at five million dollars. I’m also scheduling a preliminary conference for eleven days from today, Tuesday, February 1. Next case…” Her gavel struck the bench, echoing throughout the courtroom.
A guard escorted Claire to a holding cell. She sat in the ten-by-seven cube waiting for her attorney. The seclusion should have upset her, but she was too confused to focus. They told her once her attorney arrived, her bond could be posted, and she could leave. Claire knew that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t have enough money for a sandwich at McDonald’s—much less 2.5 million dollars for bond.
It was after 3:00 PM before she was once again taken to the small room with the table. A short while later, the door opened and a young man, Paul Task, entered—carrying a briefcase, laptop, and wearing a cheap suit. Claire’s first thought was that he looked more like a high school student than an attorney. “Hello, Mrs. Rawlings, I’m your attorney Paul Task. I just want you to know that I’m so honored to work on your case. Mr. Rawlings has long been an inspiration to us in Iowa. Everyone has so much respect for him. Why did you try to kill him? Was it because you didn’t have a prenuptial agreement? I mean, for the money?”
“No! I didn’t do this. It’s a terrible misunderstanding. I know once my husband is better he’ll help me. He knows I wouldn’t do this to him.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Rawlings—”
After Mr. Task informed the court that Mrs. Rawlings wouldn’t be able to post bond, she was officially charged with a felony. They took her personal property—her jewelry and clothes. They took her picture—her fingerprints—and did a chemical test on her hands. A female officer offered her a prison jumpsuit, underwear, and a bra—Claire accepted it all.
For the next five days Claire waited and responded appropriately to her counsel. She met daily with Paul Task and his associate Jane Allyson. They asked questions and she maintained her innocence. She told them repeatedly the events of the morning in question. She never broke Tony’s rules. When he came to save her, she would be able to tell him she maintained his confidence. She would explain to him—she drove away, but she had decided to turn around. She hadn’t left him—only left the estate—for a while. She would apologize—accept his punishment—and life could resume.
She spent untold hours wondering who poisoned Tony. The answer to that question could save her from 162 months in prison. Unfortunately, all the evidence pointed to Claire. She’d given Tony the mug of coffee at approximately 11:00 AM—in plain view of fifteen people via a Rawlings Industries web conference. He took a drink from that mug and suddenly lost consciousness. The video footage from their home security showed Claire pouring coffee in the kitchen and carrying the coffee to his office. The desk area wasn’t covered by cameras, but Claire was seen walking away from the desk without the mug.
To make this evidence worse, there was video from the garage of Claire telling Eric to go to Iowa City to get paperwork from Mr. Rawlings’s office. Anthony’s secretary, Patricia, provided a sworn statement that she didn’t have contracts for Mr. Rawlings, and furthermore, she hadn’t spoken to him that morning. Being Tony’s primary source of transportation, having Eric gone would help ensure that the poison would have time to work. The same camera in the garage captured Claire taking the keys to the Mercedes and hurrying to the car. The significance of this car was that it was the only car in the garage registered under the name Claire Rawlings.
Claire was shocked. “It can’t be registered in my name. I don’t drive.” Paul showed her a copy of the registration. The same one she handed to the policeman but hadn’t read. According to the dealership, Mr. Rawlings came in himself last December and paid cash. It was his wife’s Christmas present and had less than a thousand miles on it.
Her statement regarding no valid driver’s license also proved erroneous. Apparently, she did have an identification card with the name Claire Rawlings, but her driver’s license from Georgia under the name Claire Nichols was still valid. Paul couldn’t understand how Claire wouldn’t know.
She tried to explain, “Tony did everything.”
Paul didn’t understand and told her it would be difficult to convince a jury.
With the court ordered preliminary conference six days away. Iowa furnished Claire with clothes for a preexamination conference—a meeting that would set the tone and direction for the preliminary conference. The preexamination was usually attended by the prosecuting attorneys, the defense attorneys, and the defendant, Claire; however, unbeknownst to the defendant, the victim requested to make an appearance. The judge agreed. The goal of this meeting was to determine if a trial could be avoided, and an agreement made. The victim convinced the judge, he could help facilitate that end.
Mr. Evergreen and two of his associates sat opposite Claire and her team, Paul Task and his co-council, Jane Allyson, at a large table covered in documents and laptops. The conference was about to begin when her heart skipped a beat. She saw him, through the window of the door. She saw his profile—strong, handsome, and inflexible. She watched as he spoke to someone in the hall, turned the door handle, and entered.
Although Mr. Evergreen and Paul were talking, when the door opened everyone became silent. The entire room turned to acknowledge the entrance of Mr. Anthony Rawlings. Mr. Evergreen stood. “Mr. Rawlings, I thought we discussed this, and you weren’t to attend this conference.”
“Mr. Evergreen.” As the two men shook hands, Claire involuntarily trembled. If only she’d known he was going to be there. “I appreciate everyone’s concern for my safety. I’ll repeat what I told Judge Reynolds, I don’t believe my wife is a threat to my well-being. I believe if we can have a few moments alone, we can save the taxpayers of Iowa the cost of a lengthy trial, and this court, some time. Judge Reynolds has agreed to my request.” Tony’s command of this situation was obvious. It sounded as though he just asked the others to leave the room, but in reality it was a mandate.
Mr. Evergreen and his team began to move their chairs and stand to leave. Paul and Jane whispered to one another as Paul stood. He leaned to Claire. “I’ll confirm that this has received Judge Reynolds’ approval.” Then speaking to Tony and doing his best to appear professional; however, obviously intimidated by Tony’s mere presence. “Mr. Rawlings, I’ll need to confirm that Judge Reynolds has indeed approved this visit. In situations such as this—”
Tony’s height loomed over Paul as he interrupted and handed Paul a paper from his breast pocket. “Of course, Mr. Task, I would have expected no less. Here’s the good judge’s written approval.”
Paul took the paper and scanned its contents. “Mrs. Rawlings, it appears to be in order.” The men started to walk toward the door. Jane didn’t move. She was the only member of either team to notice Claire’s physical reaction. She sat, looking at her notes, at Claire, and at Tony. The silence intensified.
Finally, Jane rose and met Tony’s eyes. “Mr. Rawlings.”
“Ms. Allyson.” They nodded.
“Mr. Rawlings, this is unexpected. I would like to speak to our client for a few moments and determine her desire regarding this meeting. If you would please step into the hall with Mr. Evergreen and his team, Mr. Task and I will discuss this new situation with Mrs. Rawlings.” Tony started to speak, but Jane continued with conviction in her tone. “And then—if Mrs. Rawlings agrees to your meeting—it may proceed under her conditions.” Claire felt a newfound appreciation for her young co-counsel.
Mr. Evergreen placed his hand on Tony’s arm and nodded. Tony looked directly at Claire. His dark eyes took her breath away. She hadn’t seen those eyes in almost a week. They filled her with intense emotions, both love and hate. Slowly, his grin broadened. Claire knew immediately he was amused. “Why of course Ms. Allyson.” Everyone, besides Paul, Jane, and Claire, left the room. When the door shut, Claire remembered to breathe.
Paul spoke first, “Claire, you don’t have to do this, but if you don’t, it’ll look like you’re not interested in the taxpayers”—she wasn’t—“It isn’t just that. The fact he’s willing to talk to you—the person accused of his attempted murder—makes him appear honorable and forgiving. If you refuse…” Claire listened, but her mind whirled. She believed Tony knew she wasn’t guilty. Maybe he wanted to take her home, drop the charges, and forget the whole thing. If she left with him today—she would be out of that cell—she’d be home!
Jane touched Claire’s arm, and Claire turned to her co-council’s concerned expression. “Claire, I think it’s completely up to you. Everything Paul said is true, but none of it matters. You started to shake when he walked in the room. If you want, Paul and I”—she looked at Paul, who didn’t appear as strong as Jane—“or just me—would be willing to stay in here with you.”
Claire found her voice. “That isn’t what he said. He wants to talk to me alone.”
“Claire, what he wants isn’t the issue”—her voice was strong and supportive—“What do you want?”
She looked into Jane’s eyes. “I want this to be over—I didn’t do it.” Jane didn’t speak, but lifted her brows. Claire straightened her back, stiffened her neck, and lifted her chin. “I want to talk to him.”
Paul said he would get Mr. Rawlings. Jane leaned close. “Do you want me to stay?” Claire exhaled, she had kept his secrets, she hadn’t told people what she went through, and she needed him to know that.
“No, I want to talk to him alone.”
Jane smiled and squeezed Claire’s arm. “It’ll be all right. Just know, you must discuss any deal with us before it can be initiated. We’ll be right outside the door.”
Claire said she understood and suddenly thought about her appearance. Her defense counsel exited as Tony entered. They nodded to one another. Tony shut the door and turned to Claire. She watched as he walked to the table. He looked handsome, fit, and healthy. Relief filled her soul, seeing that the murder attempt hadn’t caused him harm.
“Tony, I’m so glad you are all right.” She reached across the table. He took her petite hands in his. Claire continued, “You know I would never hurt you?” His eyes showed only the smallest amount of brown.
“It certainly appears you did.” She shook her head and felt tears. He continued, “You handed me the coffee. There was poison in the coffee.”
“You told me to get you coffee. I’ve thought about it a million times. There must have been poison in the coffee already—or in the cream. I just don’t know.” She felt his stare as she continued to speak, “I don’t know who would do this. The only other people at home were staff—staff you’ve employed for years, but it should be on surveillance. You have cameras in the kitchen—”
He interrupted, “All evidence points to you. Then, there’s the way you ran to the car and drove away.”
She lowered her eyes; she had disobeyed him. She knew not to drive. “I’m sorry.” The tears teetered on her lower lids. “It was impulsive. I knew not to take one of the cars, but I saw the keys—I hadn’t had the opportunity in so long—the sky was so blue—and you’d been—well—life had been unpredictable. I felt like I was suffocating and just needed a reprieve—a small break. Honestly, Tony, I was about to turn around to come home. I want to be home—I want to be with you.”
He lifted her chin. “Claire, how are your accommodations?” The tears slipped off the lids and onto her cheeks. She didn’t reply. Her thoughts were again spinning. His voice was low, no one else could hear. “Consequences—appearances, I thought you’d learned your lessons better.”
“Tony, please take me home. I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. Please tell them you know I wouldn’t—couldn’t do this”—his black eyes penetrated, but she pushed on—“I know there’ll be consequences and punishment. I don’t care, as long as you’re all right. I just want to go home. Please—” Begging wasn’t part of her plan, but Claire wanted to be home. “Please, Tony, they’ll listen to you.”
Expecting his expression to contain compassion, she was disappointed.
“The entire thing seems to be a colossal accident; however, I’ve done some research and it seems you can plead insanity and receive treatment instead of incarceration.”
She sprung from her chair and started to pace. “What are you saying? I’m not pleading insanity! That means guilty and crazy—I’m neither!”—she turned to look at him—“And this wasn’t an accident. I didn’t try to kill you!”
He stood and moved very close, looking down at her. “I’ve found a mental hospital which is willing to accept you. I’ll pay the expenses so the taxpayers aren’t responsible for your lack of judgment.”
“I have been here for over a week. I’ve been questioned over and over. I haven’t divulged any private information. I have followed all the rules. The only rule I broke was driving a car. That’s it!”
“This plea will avoid a trial. The entire unfortunate incident is understandable. You came from a modest background. The life we shared had pressures and responsibilities—with entertaining, charities, and reporters—it’s understandable. You just couldn’t handle it.”
Claire sat down, feeling increasingly ill.
Tony walked over to her. He bent down to maintain eye contact, “I should have recognized the signs. Perhaps, I was too busy with work. When you recently canceled your charity obligations, I should have realized how overwhelmed you felt”—Claire listened as he spoke and experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It was his expression—a grin—one she recalled from a masquerade dinner almost two years ago. His expression spoke louder than his words—“You wanted out, and in a moment of weakness—no—in a moment of insanity, you decided the only way out was to try to kill me”—she watched and realized, this was a prepared speech. Oh my God!— “I’m only thankful you underestimated the amount of poison needed or you may have succeeded.”
The confusion in Claire’s mind began to dissipate, the fog cleared, and she saw Tony—his expression and his unspoken meaning. His speech continued, “If you’d succeeded, I wouldn’t be here to help you now”—she suddenly realized he was done with her. It was like the workers in Pennsylvania, she no longer mattered. He didn’t need her anymore! Tony pulled out a chair and sat facing Claire—“Aren’t you glad I’m able to help you?”
The bewilderment turned to a reality which hit her hard—not a physical slap—but it might as well have been. He wasn’t going to help her, instead of overwhelming sadness—two years of obedience and submission caused an overpowering rush of hostility. Tony’s words continued, “And, Claire, I hear the rooms at the mental facility are larger than the cells at the federal penitentiary.” His grin broadened.
She straightened her neck and met his eyes. No longer did tears flow—her eyes sparked with anger. “Yes, Tony, I’m so thankful. Would you like me to show you how thankful I am?” Her insincerity and sudden animosity came through loud and clear.
Tony stood, straightened his jacket. “Utilize the time you have to think this over. Don’t make another poor impulsive decision. This is your best offer.” He knocked on the door. “Goodbye, Claire.”
She didn’t respond. The attorneys re-entered the room. Claire had new resolve. If he planned to leave her, she was going to start talking.
Mr. Evergreen spoke first, “Mr. Task, if your client plans to plead insanity, the prosecution will need psychological evaluations.”
“Mr. Evergreen, I do not plan to plead insanity.” Everyone turned to Claire; the last five days she’d hardly spoken. She continued in a determined tone—one none of them had heard before. “I can assure you, I’m not the person that’s insane, although I have cause. I am innocent. Now, if you’ll excuse me again, I need to speak to my counsel.”
She had entered this preexamination willing to sit passively and wait for Tony to rescue her. Turning to Jane, the only counsel willing to confront her husband, she said, “Ms. Allyson, if we could postpone this preexamination, I believe I have some evidence to share with you and Mr. Task.”
Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life. Define yourself
—Harvey Fierstein