Some Justice—Part One

Office of the Commonwealth’s Attorney

Friday, March 9, 2001

11:30 AM 

“Have a seat,” Mr. Dutton said.  “May I get you anything?” 

“No, sir—thank you, we’re fine.”  Amanda said.

“I take it you’re here about the summons.” Mr. Dutton walked over to his cabinet and withdrew a file folder. “Have you told your daughter about it yet?” 

“Not yet, no,” Lee said. “We’re going to tell her with her therapist present.” 

“Good idea,” Mr. Dutton sat down behind his desk facing them. “After reading the details of Jenna’s medical records I can’t say I blame you. I do need to speak with her at some point, however— the sooner the better.” 

“We understand,” Amanda said. 

“Your Agency has also been in touch with me and I’ve spoken to the judge,” Mr. Dutton said. “Due to the sensitive nature of your jobs, the courtroom will be closed to the general public and the press. Jenna knows nothing of what you actually do for a living?” 

“No—she thinks we make documentary films,” Lee said. “And right now it’s safer if she doesn’t know.” 

Mr. Dutton nodded. “Point taken—after what she’s been through, the last thing Jenna needs is any kind of major shock.  Have you thought about how she would testify?” 

“You were talking about excluding Gary Johnston from the courtroom during Jenna’s testimony,” Lee said.  “Is that still a viable option?”

“It’s possible,” Mr. Dutton hesitated. “But—there have been cases thrown out because the accused’s sixth amendment’s rights were violated—they didn’t have the chance to face their accuser.”

“Even if a minor was involved?”  Amanda asked. 

“Even then,” Mr. Dutton said.  “That’s why judges are reluctant to go that route. But believe me—I certainly understand why you wouldn’t want her to face Johnston in court.” 

“What about giving her testimony by CCTV?” Lee asked. “You spoke about that before.” 

“Yes, that’s an option,” Mr. Dutton said.  “It would be via two-way CCTV.  The court would be able to see and hear Jenna and she would be able to see and hear the courtroom but she wouldn’t have to be near him—that might help to lessen some of the trauma.”

Some of the trauma, Lee felt suddenly cold—not all—even with all the precautions—this would still leave its mark on her—Christ, how he hated this.

“She would still have to see him.” Lee thought of the hyperventilation attack Jenna had just from seeing Johnston’s picture on the news a while back. She’d improved quite a bit since then, but still—

“I understand your concern, Mr. Stetson. There’s nothing in the law that states she has to watch the screen.” Mr. Dutton said. “Both myself and the defense attorney will be in the room—”

“Wait a minute—the defense attorney?”  Lee’s voice rose. “Dennis ‘The Hammer’ Baylor?  The guy who’s been slandering her all over the media gets to be there in the same room? No way—I won’t have that creep within two feet of her.” 

“Lee—” Amanda said. 

“If you’ll let me finish,” Mr. Dutton said mildly. “Jenna also gets to have an advocate in the room with her, either a guardian ad-litem or a parent—and since neither of you are required to testify in the preliminary hearing one of you can be there. However—” he looked at Lee as he spoke. “Losing your temper won’t help the case—and it certainly won’t help Jenna.” 

“No—” Lee ran his hands back through his hair. “No, it won’t help, I know that—It’s just—I—”

“I know,” Mr. Dutton said. “I’m a father myself.”    

“And she actually needs to testify—you’re sure?”  Amanda said.

“It’s necessary, Mrs. Stetson—more than that, it’s crucial,” Mr. Dutton flipped through the folder as he spoke.  “At this point, we actually have a stronger case for the kidnapping and attempted murder than we do for Marcie’s murder.” 

“Why?”  Lee recalled Marcie’s autopsy report—the memory more detailed than he cared to admit. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious that he killed her.” 

“It’s obvious that she was killed,” Mr. Dutton said. “And the circumstantial evidence seems to bear it out—he had motive, means and opportunity. But Johnston was pretty thorough about removing any trace of physical evidence or identification—both from the body and from the crime scene—even the van she must have been transported in was clean—except for evidence of Jenna’s presence, of course.” 

Of course—the same van that Jenna had been kidnapped in—Lee thought about Jenna’s watch and belt—if they hadn’t caught Johnston in time what else would he have done to Jenna’s body after he killed her?   Bile rose in his throat. Amanda’s hand found his and gently squeezed, giving him some comfort.

“How about Suzanne Johnston?”  Amanda asked.  “She must have known something about what was going on.” 

“At this point we’re not sure what she knew,” Mr. Dutton said. “In her statement she claims that Gary told her that Marcie had run away—so when Jenna turned up she automatically assumed that Marcie had returned home.” 

“Is she going to testify?”  Lee asked.

“I’m really not sure, Mr. Stetson,”   Mr. Dutton said. “She’s refused to say anything about who shot her—and if she doesn’t wish to testify there isn’t much we can do about it.” 

“A wife can’t be compelled to testify against her husband.”  Amanda said.

Again Mr. Dutton nodded. “Exactly—which is why we really need Jenna’s testimony. So the sooner you can tell her, the better—there’s a lot of preparation to do. I’m going to have to ask you again if you’ll allow me to release Jenna’s records as state’s evidence—I realize there’s sensitive information there, but it would help our case tremendously.”

Lee hesitated.  He still didn’t like the idea of the defense looking at those—Gary seeing the  damage that he’d inflicted on Jenna—but if it helped to put the bastard away—he met Amanda’s eyes—knowing without words that his wife was thinking the same thing he was.

“We’ll do it,” he told Mr. Dutton.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“I really hate to have to do this do her.” 

Amanda’s voice broke the silence as Lee pulled out of the parking lot.  He looked over at her briefly as he made a right turn onto North Courthouse Road. 

“Frankly, I’m not crazy about it either—but we don’t exactly have a choice in the matter.”  Lee said.  “She has a therapy session today—Pfaff will discuss it with her –I’ll be there—the sooner we do this the better.” 

“Lee, I realize that—it’s just—Jenna’s really starting to heal, you know? Now it feels like we’re going to be pulling the rug right out from under her.” 

Lee drew in a deep breath as they pulled up to the light at the intersection.  Traffic was heavy around this time of day—dark clouds hung low in the sky, promising rain later—maybe even a storm—it was funny how the weather seemed to match his mood.

“Amanda, I know what you’re saying,” he said finally. “But—maybe this will be a positive thing for her—it will put Gary in prison and hopefully out of Jenna’s life for good—it might even give her a sense of control over the situation.”

Putting Johnston away sounded good to Lee—more than that, he wanted the satisfaction of being there when the man was finally sentenced—of looking him right in the eye as he was led away in chains—it wouldn’t be enough—he thought—his fist clenched, thinking of all that Jenna had endured at that creep’s hands. It would never be enough—but at least it was something.  

“Do you think she’ll be able to handle this?” Amanda asked.

“Honestly—I’m not sure,” Lee said. “Jenna has made a lot of progress, though—and she deserves to know what’s coming up so she can prepare for it. I think we have to trust—at this point— and hope that we’ve made her strong enough.”  

“And she has all of us to support her,” Amanda said. “That’s something.”

“Yes, that is something,” Lee said. 

He just had to hope that it would be enough to get Jenna through. 

4:30 PM 

“Good afternoon, Jenna.”  Dr. Pfaff greeted her as she came into the office. “Take a seat. Would you like some ice cream?”

“No thanks,” Jenna said. “It’s kind of cold outside.”

She sat down in her usual seat, Dad took the seat beside her. He’d been quiet on the drive here, quieter than usual, Jenna thought. She couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong.

Maybe she was being paranoid though. Jenna looked over at her Dad—he wasn’t looking at her—he was looking straight ahead.

What could be wrong? Everything had been going so well lately—life seemed like it was finally getting back to normal. 

“Well personally, I enjoy ice cream all year-round,” Dr. Pfaff’s voice pulled Jenna from her worries. He knelt beside the fridge, pulling out an ice cream sandwich.  “How was the celebration dinner? Did you have a nice time?” 

“I had a great time—it was a lot of fun.”

“Very good.” Dr. Pfaff removed the paper from the sandwich, taking a bite. “And how was this week? Did everything go well?”

“Pretty well,” Jenna said. “I almost had a panicky moment in Gym class when the teacher stood over me but I managed to breathe and control it.”

“Well that’s good, Jenna—that’s very positive.” Dr. Pfaff sat in the chair across from them. For a moment he was silent, just looking at her.

“What’s wrong?” Jenna asked abruptly.

Dr. Pfaff blinked. “What makes you think that something’s wrong?” 

Jenna hesitated for a moment as she looked from Dad and then back to the doctor. “Maybe not wrong, exactly,” she said.  “But something’s going on. Dad’s really quiet—and you—I can just feel it.” 

Dad cleared his throat suddenly. “Nothing is wrong, munchkin—but we do have something that we need to talk to you about—it’s kind of important.”

“What?”  Jenna asked.

“You received a summons,” Dr. Pfaff said. “To testify in the preliminary hearing against Gary Johnston.” 

A summons. To testify—Jenna stared down at her hands in her lap—they were squeezed tightly together.  She drew in several deep breaths before trusting herself to speak. “So that means I have to do it?” 

“That’s what it means.” Dr. Pfaff told her.

“In a preliminary hearing—is that like a trial?”  Jenna asked.

Dr. Pfaff shook his head. “No, it’s basically just a small hearing, usually about an hour, to determine if there’s enough evidence to proceed to trial.”

“And they need me—to tell them what he—what Gary—did to me.”  Jenna swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that seemed to have formed between throat and stomach.

“Yes,” Dr. Pfaff said. “You’re their main witness, Jenna—they need your testimony to proceed to trial.”  

‘I’m the main witness’—Jenna squeezed her hands together tighter. The thought of sitting in that huge room with Gary right there—his eyes staring at her—his hands—

Blood pounded in her ears—she had the sudden urge to run from the room, down the stairs, past Mrs. Marston and out the building—away from everything—

“Jenna, look at me,” Dad said. Jenna turned her head—his eyes stared intently into her own.  “What you tell the court could put Gary away for a very long time—somewhere where he couldn’t hurt you or anyone else ever again. Wouldn’t you like to do that?” 

“Yes.”  Jenna’s voice sounded very small to her own ears. “I just—would I need to be in the same room? I don’t know if I want to be that close—to him—I’m not sure I can be.” 

“The Commonwealth’s Attorney, Mr. Dutton, has requested a court order to let you testify by closed-circuit television.”  Dr. Pfaff told her. “It hasn’t been decided yet, but with the evidence I don’t think the judge will deny the request.”

“What does that mean—closed circuit TV?”  Jenna asked. 

“It means that you would be able to give your testimony, but you wouldn’t have to be in the same room.”  Dr. Pfaff said. “You’ll be talking to Mr. Dutton later—he can give you more details about how it works.” 

Jenna’s mind formed a vague mental picture of sitting in a room with a camera on her, talking about what Gary did—not as scary as being in the actual room, but still—her head began to ache—Jenna looked down at her wrist, watching as the skin throbbed with each heartbeat, faster than usual.

“Watch your breathing,” Dr. Pfaff’s voice seemed to come from a distance. “In and out, slowly.”   Jenna did as he told her—the pulse in her wrist slowed to the point where she couldn’t see it at all. 

She looked back up at Dr. Pfaff. “Would I be by myself?” 

“No,” Dad said. “Mr. Dutton would be there, and the defense attorney—and I would be in the room with you—you’re not going to have to do this alone, munchkin.” 

“When—when is it?”  Jenna asked.

“It’s April the sixth, ” Dr. Pfaff said. “That means you have lots of time to prepare—I really think you can do this—you’ve come a long way.” 

A long way—so why did it feel like it was square one all over again? Jenna reached up her hand, rubbing over the scar where the ache had erupted. A heavy feeling formed in the pit of her stomach—she swallowed, feeling kind of sick.

‘Things were finally feeling normal—why is this happening to me now?—this isn’t fair—it isn’t—’

“It doesn’t really matter what anybody thinks—I don’t have a choice—do I?”  Jenna spoke out loud without really meaning to.

“Well, no, you don’t have a choice—” Dr. Pfaff said. “But even so, there are things you can do to get ready—”

“No, not now— maybe later.” Jenna stood. “Right now, I just want to go home.”   

4247 Maplewood Dr 

5:00 PM

‘I’m being childish’

Jenna sat cross legged on her bed, her scarecrow doll on her lap, staring fixedly at the doll’s painted face.

The scene she’d made in Dr. Pfaff’s office had been childish.

Giving dad the silent treatment all the way home—running up here and slamming the door—all very childish. No one else needed to tell her what she already knew.  Tears stung Jenna’s eyes—angrily she reached up to brush them away.

She knew she was being childish and yet she couldn’t seem to stop. Jenna felt frozen, stuck—unable to move in any direction and not quite sure if she even wanted to.

It was funny—when she was younger she used to imagine that the doll knew all the answers—how to fix things—make everything better—but now she was older—she knew the truth.

The doll wasn’t going to fix anything—it was just a stupid stuffed doll with a stupid painted grin and it didn’t know anything—it couldn’t make anything better—even mom and dad couldn’t make things better—not this time.  Jenna threw the doll against the opposite wall—as hard as she could—there was a dull thud as it bounced off and landed face down on her Pocahontas rug—the rug—

Face down on the carpet—rough fibers rubbing into raw skin—biting her lip against the stinging pain—blood leaking, soaking the material—

Heart thudding, Jenna slid off her bed and knelt down on the rug beside the scarecrow doll. She picked it up, cradling the soft toy against her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

There was a light tap on the door. 

“Jenna?” Mom’s voice. “I brought you a brownie and some milk—I really think we should talk.” 

“Okay—wait a sec.” Jenna called out.

Mom couldn’t see her—not like this—hastily she rose from the rug and put the doll back on her bed. 

“Come in.” 

The door opened. Mom entered, carrying a small saucer with a brownie and a glass of milk. 

“Thought you might be able to use this,” she handed Jenna the saucer and milk.

“Thanks.”  Jenna took both, trying to think of something else to say. “I –um—I really like brownies.” 

Possibly the lamest thing she’d ever said. Mom didn’t reply for a few moments, just looking at her.

“Let’s talk over here, okay?”  Taking Jenna’s arm, she steered her back over to her bed where they both sat down. 

“Sweetheart, I know that having to testify is frightening for you.”  Mom said

Jenna nodded. Putting the saucer on her lap she took the brownie, biting into it—it was still warm, the icing all gooey.  “It is—I really didn’t mean to act that way though—I was just acting like a big baby but I guess I’m just scared."  she finished off the brownie and took a swallow of milk. “I just think about seeing him in court, looking at his face—” a shiver ran through her body. “I guess I knew this was coming, someday—but –”

“But what?” 

“Things were just feeling sort of normal again, and now this—I don’t know. Maybe I’m kind of mad about it too. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what—for being angry?” 

Jenna nodded. 

“You have every right to feel angry, Jenna,” Mom told her. “Gary—he took you away from your family, he hurt you—frightened you—even tried to kill you. Anger is normal—it’s nothing to feel sorry for.” 

“How about you—are you angry at him too?” 

“Yes,” Mom said. “I’m angry at what he put you through—the way he hurt you—the way he’s still hurting you—I love you—and I don’t ever like to see someone I love in pain.”

“I love you too, mom—I just wish—” Jenna drew in a deep breath. “I wish he’d just go away, you know? That I could just forget about him and everything would be over—but I can’t.”

“Jenna—”

“I mean, why can’t he just plead guilty? He knows what he did to me. I read about courts in my social studies book, mom—if he just said he was guilty, I wouldn’t have to testify.”  

“Sweetheart, I don’t know the answer to that—I don’t.”  Mom said. “What I do know is that if you tell the court the truth about what he did, they’ll put him away for a very long time.”

“But what about what Gary says—or his lawyer? I don’t know what he’s been saying on TV but I know that he’s been saying stuff—I hear other kids talk—they might believe him instead.” Jenna’s hand started to shake—she put the glass of milk on her bedside table so it wouldn’t spill.

“They’re going to need evidence for what they say in court—and they don’t have it. We have evidence.”

“But I’m not sure I can do it—even if I testify on a television.” 

“Well I am sure.”  Mom took Jenna’s hands.  “You’re a very strong girl—look at all that you’ve been through already—and you haven’t given up yet. I know that you can do this.”

The same thing Dr. Pfaff had said—that everyone had been saying—that she was strong—Dad had said that she wasn’t going to let Gary beat her—Jenna saw her face in her mirror—she really wanted to be that girl—the strong girl—but still—she looked back over at Mom.

“If I testify on television he’ll be able to see me?” 

Mom nodded. 

“Will I have to see him?”  .

“There will be a screen in your room so you can see the court—but you don’t have to look at the screen if you don’t want to.”

A screen, Jenna thought. Better than in person, but still—“And I won’t—I won’t be alone with strangers?” 

Mom squeezed her hands. “You won’t ever be alone—I promise. Either your dad or I will be there at all times.” 

“Okay—well what about outside the courtroom? What then?” 

“I don’t know the exact arrangements, but no one is going to let him get anywhere near you—we’ll make sure of it.” 

“And I’m going to meet Mr. Dutton? The Commonwealth’s Attorney?”

“Yes, you’ll be able to meet him—to ask him all the questions you want—we’ll even be able to take you into a courtroom, let you see where you’ll be testifying—all of that. We’ll do everything we can to make sure you’re ready. All right?”

‘I can do this,’ Jenna thought. The girl in the mirror had a resolute expression on her face—even though she still felt shaky and jello-y inside.  ‘I can prepare for this—get Gary out of my life once and for all.’

“All right,” she said.

Mom pulled her into a hug. “I’m very proud of you, sweetheart,” she said. “Let’s go downstairs, okay? I’m going to make you your favorite dinner tonight.” 

“Tacos?”  Jenna asked.

“Of course—and we’ll even have sherbet for dessert.” 

 TBC

Some Justice-Part Two

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Monday, March 19, 2001 

8:00 AM 

“It’s the perfect time of year—somewhere far away from here—I feel fine enough I guess—considering everything’s a mess…” 

The music played in Jenna’s ears as she looked out the car window—it was funny, she thought—how even the people walking on the sidewalk seemed to be moving to the beat. They stopped at the light—there was a bus-stop on the corner—Jenna watched as a girl ran to catch the bus.  The girl almost looked like Lisa— Lisa, who was still upset because Jenna couldn’t practice with her today.

*~*

“You’re not going to make the dance team unless you practice, Jenna.”  Lisa had chided her over the phone last night.

“Come on—it’s not like I have a choice. I’m visiting the court tomorrow.” 

“I know that—but you haven’t exactly been enthusiastic about this whole thing, have you?”

“Lisa, I’m trying to—I really am—life is just a little crazy.”

*~*

But if she was really honest with herself—she hadn’t actually been trying at all. Life in general had been improving—Terri had moved on to tormenting others for the time being—probably little children and small animals, for all Jenna knew—but at least she was leaving her alone. The gag order the court had imposed on the press about her case had probably helped with that—out of sight, out of mind—that was good—and Dr. Pfaff was helping her with the courtroom stuff. Jenna still had good-sized butterflies in her stomach at the thought but the big giant lump—the ache—seemed to have dissolved a little.  So what was the problem with dancing? She could remember how she used to love it—but thinking about it now made her feel nothing at all— and Jenna had to admit that the ‘nothing’ feeling bothered her a little.

‘Maybe it’s not a big deal,’ she thought ‘Maybe I’m just outgrowing it.’   Still, she thought that she should feel something.

“It's like a dream - you try to remember but it's gone then ya try to scream but it only comes out as a yawn…”

“Jenna!”  

The song broke off as Dad reached over and pulled her earphones off. 

“What’s wrong?”  Jenna asked.

“What’s wrong is that I’ve been calling your name now for about ten minutes,” Dad told her. “What are you listening to, anyway?” 

“The Barenaked Ladies.” 

Dad’s eyes widened. “The what??” 

“Dad it’s just the name of a group—some Canadian guys—Phillip gave it to me for my birthday.” 

“It’s guys?—just guys?” 

Jenna nodded.

“And they call themselves the Barenaked—only none of them are naked?’ 

“No—they all keep their clothes on—it’s just a name, Dad—and the music is really cool.” 

“Really cool, huh? Weird.”  Dad shook his head. “One of these days I’ve got to introduce you to The Rolling Stones.”

“You don’t think that’s a weird name?”

“Not as weird as Barenaked Ladies, no.”  They had pulled into the parking lot—Jenna’s neck craned as she looked up at the tall white and blue building—Arlington County Courthouse. It was huge—she swallowed hard—suddenly feeling very small.  How on earth was she going to—the butterflies were going full swing now—big butterflies.

“Munchkin?”  Jenna turned her head. Her emotions must have been written across her face, because Dad’s own face was filled with concern.

“First we’ll be going up to talk to Mr. Dutton—he’s on the fifth floor,” he told her. “The courtroom is here in the same building—and they’re going to let us visit—you’ll be able to see  the room where you’ll be testifying—the cameras—we’ll try to get all of your questions answered, okay?” 

“Sure.” Jenna’s voice came out in a squeak—she could feel her cheeks growing warm. Dad took her hand and squeezed reassuringly.

“Everything will be just fine,” he told her. “You’ll be fine, Jenna—I know you will.” 

Jenna tried to smile at him—wishing that she could be as sure as he was. 

Office of the Commonwealth's Attorney

8:15 AM

"It's nice to meet you, Jenna."  The older man extended his hand to her—he was tall—chubby—with white hair. Bright blue eyes peered down at Jenna from behind thick glasses—but this man's eyes were kind, she thought—not cold at all. "I'm Mr. Robert Dutton—the Commonwealth's Attorney for Arlington County." 

Jenna shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, too.” It was a nice office—small for such a large building—and cozy looking—sort of like Dr. Pfaff's office except that she couldn't spot a freezer anywhere. Different diplomas hung on the wall—Virginia Bar Association, Georgetown University Law School—the sun shone in through a curtained window, casting a golden light on the carpet. A clock on the wall ticked softly. 

"Sit down," Mr. Dutton indicated the two chairs near his desk—Jenna took one and Dad sat down beside her. "Can I get either of you anything—maybe a soda?" 

"No, that's okay—I'm fine," Jenna told him. Dad just shook his head. 

"What was that you were listening to on your CD player?" Mr. Dutton asked her. 

"Just some music—the Barenaked Ladies." Jenna expected the same confused reaction she'd gotten from her dad—she was surprised when Mr. Dutton actually smiled. 

"Really? My daughter loves them," the attorney said. "She's a bit older than you though—she's sixteen. I took her to a concert last year for her birthday." 

"You went to a Barenaked Ladies concert?" Jenna asked. 

Mr. Dutton nodded. "Hard to believe, huh—an old guy like me? But I actually had a good time there."  He paused. "So, is this your first visit to a court?" 

"Yes sir," Jenna said. ‘Was sir the right thing?’ Jenna was pretty sure that she didn't call him ‘Your Honor’—that was a judge. "And I guess I'm a little nervous." 

"I can imagine," Mr. Dutton said. How have things been going in general, though—at school and home?" 

"Things are easier at school now,"  Jenna said. "I think because there's not so much publicity because of the gag order—people are treating me normally." 

"That's very good," Mr. Dutton said. "And at home?" 

"It's a lot better." 

"No nightmares or flashbacks?" 

"No, sir."  She didn't tell him about the brief flashes of panic she got from time to time—especially when alone—she usually managed to control those with breathing.

"I'm glad to hear it," Mr. Dutton said. "Now that I've asked you some questions, Jenna—I bet you must have a few to ask me." 

"Yes sir." Jenna drew in a deep breath before speaking. "How strong is the case against Gary Johnston? I mean people say it's a strong case but I don't really know—I mean, I never watched the news—not after that one time—but I heard that his attorney was saying stuff." 

"What kind of things did you hear?" 

"That he says Gary is innocent—it was all a misunderstanding—and that when the truth comes out the charges will be dropped and he'll be released," Jenna said. 

"And that scared you—didn't it?" 

"Of course," Jenna replied. "I don't want him to get out—if he's released he'll hurt me—I don't want to be hurt anymore." Her voice shook—Dad took her hand in his. 

"Jenna, let me tell you one thing," Mr. Dutton said. "Gary Johnston isn't going anywhere—we have a lot of solid evidence against him—and with your help, we can put him away for a very long time—possibly for the rest of his life." 

The rest of Gary's life—Jenna had to admit that sounded good. "What kind of evidence?" 

"Evidence that he took from you—he cut and dyed your hair—that he drugged you—there's DNA evidence—hospital records of your injuries—photographs—"

"Photographs? You mean—when I was in the hospital they took them?"  Again Mr. Dutton nodded. Jenna tried to think back—it was all one big blur—she remembered lights shining in her eyes, different voices—mom's hand holding her own tightly, not wanting to let go even though the nurse was saying that she'd have to—mom's hand smoothing the side of Jenna's face.
 

*~*
"You'll be fine, sweetheart—you're safe now—everything's all right."
*~*

Mom's hand had felt nice and cool—the touch soothing—so safe—Jenna had finally allowed her eyes to close—her tired body finally giving in to the rest it needed—after that she must have fallen asleep or passed out, because the next thing she recalled was the hospital room—and her parents.

"Munchkin?" Dad asked. 

"I'm all right," Jenna said. "Really. I—I just guess that I never thought of photographs—but it sort of makes sense that there would be—I mean, it's evidence against him—which is good." She felt silly, rambling in this way. And even though it was evidence—the thought of the photographs still made Jenna feel a little weird. 

"What I don't understand," she said finally. "Is why his lawyer would say that he'll be proven innocent if there's all this evidence against him." 

Mr. Dutton sighed. "It's called spreading disinformation, Jenna—and unfortunately it's a game that some attorneys play—indirectly implying that the state's evidence is weak or that there's another side to the story that they haven't heard—leaving the media free to speculate what the other side could be—and the public often assumes that the defense case must be stronger than it actually is. Sometimes it's an attempt to influence a future jury pool. But let me tell you this—Gary's going to be tried in a court of law—not by the media—and our case against him is very strong."

Very strong. It sounded reassuring, but still—Jenna stared down at her hands—her father's hand still holding hers—and then looked back up at Mr. Dutton. "I'm your main witness?" 

"Yes—you are," Mr. Dutton said. "Your testimony is very important in this case." 

At those words the butterflies in Jenna's stomach fluttered their wings—slightly faster than before—with her free hand she gripped the arm of the chair. "What do you want me to say?" 

"Jenna I can't tell you what to say—all I need you to do is tell the truth about what Gary Johnston did to you—I'll be letting you tell your story and asking you some questions to clarify your account or to emphasize a detail. You'll only be giving a brief summary for the preliminary hearing—more in-depth testimony will be required for the trial." 

"What exactly is a preliminary hearing?" 

"It's a short hearing—it usually only lasts about an hour—all we need to do is establish probable cause that a crime occurred—which shouldn't be any problem." 

"Who makes the decision?"  Jenna asked. "Is it a jury?" 

"No," Mr. Dutton said. "For the hearing a judge would make the decision." 

"Does the trial come next?"  Jenna knew she was asking a lot of stuff, but she really needed to know—she wasn't trying to be a pest. 

"No—next comes the Grand Jury—you won't have to testify for that—only the law enforcement officers responsible for your case testify there—the jury determines if the charges are valid—and if they are an indictment is issued. The trial is usually a few months after that." Mr. Dutton opened his desk, taking out a small pamphlet and handing it to her. "Here's some more information on the process—reading it should help to give you a better understanding."

Jenna looked at the title—Courtroom Procedures in the Commonwealth of Virginia. "And I get to testify by CCTV?" 

"For the preliminary hearing, yes. Nothing's been decided about the trial yet, but that's months away—I wouldn't worry." Mr. Dutton said. "It's two-way CCTV—you'll be able to see the court and the court will be able to see you. He stood. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the room where you'll be testifying—you'll be able to see everything and a technician will be able to explain in more detail." 

Dad's hand gave her own a reassuring squeeze—together they stood, following Mr. Dutton out of the office. 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

A trip in the elevator—one floor up—then down a carpeted hallway and into the first door on the right. The room was small—smaller than Jenna had expected it to be. A rectangular wooden table and chairs occupied the center of the room—there was a camera—phones on the table—and at the other end of the table, facing her, was what looked like a large television and VCR on a cart with wheels—it reminded Jenna of school—the teacher would get those from the AV center and wheel them in so they could show a movie. A dark-haired woman was doing something to one of the cameras—she straightened as Mr. Dutton came into the room. 

"Jenna, this is Barbara," Mr. Dutton said. "She's a technician with the Virginia State Police. Barbara, this is Jenna—I was wondering if you could give her a basic rundown—tell her how everything will work when she testifies." 
 

Barbara smiled. "Be glad to. Okay, Jenna—you'll be sitting at this end of the table here—come here—" Jenna sat down where she directed. "Your lawyer will be on one side—and your parent or whoever will be with you that day—will sit on the other side. You'll be miked—we'll put a microphone on you so the courtroom can pick up your voice—and that camera there will be trained on you." 

Jenna looked at the large TV screen—she noticed how the wires from the screen and the VCR ran straight through the wall—vaguely she wondered where they ran—what they hooked up to. Barbara noticed her looking. 

"Those run through to the control booth," she explained. "It's nearby—you'll have a chance to see it later." 

"What does the TV show?" Jenna asked. 

"Well the monitor will show you a live picture of the courtroom," Barbara explained. "The VCR will record your testimony." 

The courtroom, Jenna thought—where Gary would be—and he'd be looking at her—she swallowed, looking up at Barbara. "They won't make me—I mean—I don't have to look at the monitor when I talk—do I?"

"No, not if you don't want to," Barbara said. "Bur you'll be able to communicate with the courtroom—and they can communicate with you."

"Is that what the phones are for?" Jenna asked.

"No," Barbara said. "The phones are for private communication between attorneys or attorneys and their clients."

"And the other lawyer—Gary's lawyer—for the defense—he'll be in here too?" 

"Yes," Mr. Dutton said. "He'll be at the other end of the table." 

"Will he be asking me questions too?" Jenna asked. 

"Yes," Mr. Dutton told her. "He's entitled to cross-examine you." 

Jenna had a vague idea of what cross-examination was—she'd seen Matlock before—usually the person that Matlock cross-examined ended up crying, confessing to something—part of her knew that was only TV, but still—

"He'll stay in his chair, right—the defense attorney?" Jenna asked. "I mean, he won't get up and walk towards me or anything like that."  She saw the confusion in Mr. Dutton's eyes and tried to explain. "I just don't like anyone standing over me—it makes me nervous." 

"Jenna, no one's going to be allowed to do anything that will frighten or intimidate you," Mr. Dutton said. "I promise." 

"Okay." Jenna realized her hands were shaking slightly and she clenched them in her lap. "But what does happen during a cross-examination?" 

Mr. Dutton was silent for a moment. "He's probably going to try and make you seem less believable—imply that you're confused—that you're mistaken or exaggerating what happened to you." 

"But I'm not—I'm not mistaken about anything—it's all true." Jenna said. 

"We know that, Jenna—but the only way that he can defend his client is to cast doubt on you." Mr. Dutton took the seat next to her. "For instance, he might ask you questions and want you to answer them with only a yes or a no—he'll try to twist around what you said so that it sounds like something else." 

She couldn't win, Jenna thought—this was sounding more and more complicated—the butterflies in her stomach were going crazy. "What can I do if he tries to do that?"

"Just stick to the truth." Dad's voice broke in. "Tell him if you can't answer a question with just a yes or no—don't let him confuse you—and if there's something you honestly can't remember just say so—no one expects your memory to be perfect. I’ve testified in court before,” he explained when she looked at him.

“Your father’s absolutely right,” Mr. Dutton told her.  “Just remember—you have the truth on your side, Jenna—you know what happened to you better than anyone else.”

“I know,” Jenna said.  “It just—it seems like a lot to remember all at once.” 

“You don’t have to remember it all at once,” Dad told her.  “We’ll work on it, munchkin—I promise.” 

“Yes we will,” Mr. Dutton assured her. “We won’t let you be unprepared—don’t worry.” 

“I won’t,” Jenna tried to sound convincing—even if the butterflies wouldn’t leave her alone.  She wasn’t sure what else to say—brave was what she wanted to be—what everyone expected her to be—she didn’t want to let anyone know how much it all still frightened her. Dr. Pfaff kept reminding her that she was in control, that she had the power this time, but Jenna wasn’t so sure about that. Wouldn’t someone with power feel more—powerful somehow?

Barbara’s voice broke the silence. “Jenna—if you still want to see the control booth I can show you now.”

SMK SMK SMK  SMK

The control booth was nothing like Jenna had expected—it was mostly dark—with two overhead lights—track lights, Barbara called them. She said they were used for illuminating the audio console and the switcher. The audio console was a black box with lots of red, white and yellow buttons and switches—and levers that moved up and down—Jenna wondered how anyone could keep track of which ones to press.

Maybe it was because it was dark, but to her it felt a little stuffy, the air close—the only sound Jenna could hear was the whirring of fans and that slight hum that you always heard around computers. There were a lot of screens of different sizes—mostly black and white but some color—they seemed to be piled one on top of the other and the images—Jenna peered closer at one of the black and white images.

“Is that the room we were just in?”  she asked, looking up at Barbara.

Barbara nodded. “Yes it is—and here’s one of the courtrooms.” She pointed. Jenna could see the people in the courtroom—they looked so small from up here—she could see the witness box, the judge—Jenna wondered what  it would be like to have to actually sit in the box and testify in the courtroom—with Gary sitting right there—she shivered. Hopefully she’d never have to find out.

“You okay, Munchkin?”  Dad asked her—even in the dim light she could see the worry on his face—she hated that she was always worrying him. Jenna nodded and tried to smile a little.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Am I going to get to see a courtroom?” 

Mr. Dutton looked at his watch. “Courtroom G is empty,” he said. “We could go there right now if you like—I could have Judge Nelson meet us there—he’s semi-retired—he doesn’t hear many cases any more, but he’s always available to answer questions.”

“Okay,” Jenna turned to Barbara. “It was nice to meet you—and thank you.”

Barbara smiled. “You’re welcome, Jenna.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

The judge seemed friendly, Jenna thought—he said that she didn’t have to call him ‘your honor’ unless she was in court—he did like to answer questions—mostly he seemed to like to talk, and  Jenna let him—the butterflies were making it difficult for her to think of anything to say herself.  It had been one thing—practicing all of this with Dad, with Dr. Pfaff—this made it all seem very real...

“Now the bailiff stands here—close to the judge—” Judge Nelson pointed. “The court reporter will be sitting over there—the prosecution on that side—the defense over there. You’ll be able to see all of this from your monitor, of course.”

‘Sure—if I look’, Jenna added silently. She hadn’t quite decided what she was going to do about that.  Dad walked beside her as she followed behind the Judge, and she could hear Mr. Dutton’s footsteps behind them.

“Of course the bailiff is the one who will swear you in.” the judge said. “Is this going to be closed or open to the public?” 

“Closed,” Dad said.

“Well in that case friends and family will be seated in the audience,” Judge Nelson said. “Unless they’re called to testify, of course.” 

“Will I be sworn in up in the CCTV room?” Jenna asked. 

The Judge nodded. “You’ll be up there the whole time.” He paused. “I realize you won’t need to sit in the Witness Box for the hearing—but would you like to try it—just in case?”

In case she had to sit there for the trial—that’s what he was trying to say. Jenna looked at the box—the courtroom was smaller than she’d thought it would be—but suddenly the box looked huge. “I don’t know—”

“Go on, munchkin,” Dad urged. “You’ll be fine.” 

“Okay.”  Jenna walked up—at first she tried to push the little door leading into the box—it didn’t budge—so she pulled it—the door opened—Jenna sat down. The chair was a little big, but it didn’t feel too big.  Then she looked over the court—her heart pounded and her mouth felt suddenly dry.

“Testifying in open court is not as frightening as many make it out to be,” the Judge was saying. “We do everything we can to alleviate fear for the person testifying—particularly if that person is a child.”

“I understand.”  Jenna told him. Why would he be telling her this?  Unless he wanted to prepare her for the possibility that she might have to— she pictured  Gary sitting where the defendant  normally sat—the smile on his face—blue eyes like blocks of ice—“Will the man I’m testifying against—will he have handcuffs on for the hearing or the trial?”

Judge Nelson shook his head. “Most likely not—a person is considered innocent until proven guilty—handcuffs might be considered a presumption of guilt—especially during a trial.”

“But he will be guarded, though—right?” 

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of guards—don’t you worry.”  Dad told her.

“What about when we’re waiting to testify?  We won’t be in the same place—will we?” 

“No,” the Judge told her. “You’ll have a separate room—you won’t be close to him at all.” 

“I just don’t—I don’t want him getting loose or escaping.” Jenna explained.

“He’s not going to escape,” Mr. Dutton said. “And your testimony will ensure that he never gets out again, Jenna—think about that.” 

‘I could put him away for the rest of his life.’

Could she do it here, Jenna wondered—sitting in this box? If she really had to?   In her mind’s eye, though—she could still see that man—looking at her—it would be a little hard to testify if she was unable to move or speak.

“Do you have any more questions for the judge or anyone else?” Mr. Dutton asked her.

A million things ran through her mind—but nothing that—finally Jenna shook her head.

“No.”  Her voice echoed slightly. “No more questions—I’m fine.”

 TBC

Some Justice Part Three

Kenmore Middle School 

Monday, March 26, 2001 

3:40 PM

Jenna stared at the white sheets of paper taped to the gym teacher’s door—the names were in alphabetical order—it should've been easy to sort out—but today everything seemed to run together somehow—her head throbbed and she reached up to rub her forehead—the slightly raised skin of her scar lay beneath her fingertips—it was always there.

“So?” Lisa asked. “Did we make it? Come on, Jenna—you’ve been staring at that list for like ten minutes now.” 

“Um—”  Jenna looked at the K’s–Kingsley, Lisa—there she was. And the names starting with S—Silton, Smith, Stanford, Tanner—no Stetson. She gazed at the spot where her name would be and still—she felt nothing at all.  Not upset or relieved—Jenna just felt blank.

“Well?” Lisa said.

Jenna turned to face her. “You made it,” she said. “You’re on the team.”

Lisa grinned. “Awesome—we—wait a minute, what about you?”

“I didn’t make it,” Jenna said. “I’m sorry.”  Lisa said nothing—just looking down at the floor.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Jenna asked.

“No—” Lisa said. “I mean, you’ve had a lot on your mind lately—with everything coming up and all. I just hoped we’d be able to be on the team together—it’s more fun that way.” 

“Yeah, I know.”  No matter how she felt about dancing at the moment, Jenna hated seeing her best friend feeling down like this. “But hey—there’ll be another tryout in the Fall—maybe I can try again then.”

“That’s true,” Lisa said. “And by then you’ll have all the stuff behind you—speaking of which—how are you doing with everything?”

“Okay, I guess,” Jenna said. “Still kind of nervous, though.”

Lisa shut her locker. “I can imagine.—has therapy helped?”  

“A little,” Jenna admitted.  “I don’t freak when I talk about it anymore. But the thing is, Lisa—I’m still—”

“There you are,” Terri’s voice broke into their conversation.

“Won’t that girl get a clue—or a life?” Lisa muttered.

Jenna turned around –she now stood face to face with Terri.

“Something you wanted?” she asked.

“I heard you didn’t make the dance team,” Terri said. “Not that I’m surprised—your audition was lame. Anything else you want to say, Scarface?  Mrs. Brooks isn’t here to rescue you now.” 

“Look, Terri, if that’s the best you can do, you’re wasting my time—and I’ve got to go.” Jenna started to walk, but Terri blocked her path.

“He’ll be found innocent, you know.”  Terri’s voice was soft—her lips barely moved. “And everyone will know that you lied—he’ll be free and you’ll be the one to pay.” 

For a moment all Jenna could do was stare—her heart beat furiously and she was sure her face was bright red. Before she had a chance to reply, Terri had whirled around and disappeared down the hallway.

“That girl should rot in hell,” Lisa muttered. “She’s just talking bull, Jenna—don’t worry—the guy who took you will be put away forever.”

“I’m not worried,” Jenna clutched her books tightly against her. “I’m not—I mean—I’m fine—just fine.”  She looked over at her friend, attempting a smile. “We should go—my Dad will be waiting outside.”

Without another word she walked towards the entrance, Lisa following.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“Hey, munchkin,” Dad smiled at her as she climbed inside the car, putting her backpack on the floor and fastening her seat belt. He pulled out of the school driveway, following the line of cars that were merging with the incoming traffic.  “How was your day? Everything go well?” 

“It was all right.”  Jenna thought about turning on the radio like she usually did, but at the moment she really didn’t feel like hearing music.

“You sure?” 

“Sure—why?” 

“Just wondered—you seem a little quieter than usual.”

“Well maybe I’m just in a quiet mood, that’s all.”  Jenna snapped—then winced inwardly—she hadn’t meant for it to sound that harsh. If dad was hurt by her tone—it didn’t show in his voice.

“A quiet mood is fine—I just want you to know that whenever you want to talk, I’m here to listen.” 

“I know.”  They drove for a few moments in silence—Jenna pulled one knee tightly against her chest, wrapping her arms around her leg, looking out the window—the sky was a bright blue and almost cloudless—the cherry blossoms were just starting to come out— Mom always said that early spring was her favorite time of year—usually it was Jenna’s too—but right now—

*~~*

“He’ll be found innocent—he’ll be free—you’ll be the one to pay.”

*~~*

Terri’s words repeated themselves in her brain, running around in a circle like a gerbil stuck on one of those little wheels—part of Jenna knew she should just dismiss them—but the doubts persisted.

What would happen if Gary Johnston did get out?  What then?  And if he came after her—who would possibly be able stop him?  A shiver ran through her body—she pulled her knee even closer—trying to quell the dull pain in the pit of her stomach.

 “—dance team auditions?”  

Jenna looked over at dad—realizing they were stopped at a light. “Huh?” 

“I said—what happened at the dance team auditions? Did you make it?” 

“Oh—that. No, I didn’t make it. Lisa did, though.” 

“I’m sorry, Jenna—I know you tried your best.” 

“Yeah—but I’m okay about it—I know Lisa wanted me to be on the team with her, though—I’m sorry about that.” 

“You two have always done dancing together—I can remember your very first time doing the Nutcracker—what did you play?” 

“Tiny mice,” Despite everything Jenna found herself smiling slightly at the memory.  “Lisa stepped on my tail by accident and I almost fell right on the Nutcracker.”

“Oh yeah,” Dad chuckled—the light turned to green and he made a left turn. “I think we actually have that on video somewhere—you know, you two were inseparable—even when you were toddlers.  I can remember—” 

“Dad—can I ask you something?”  Jenna said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—but I just—I have a question.”

“You can ask me anything—you know that.” 

“What if Gary’s found innocent?” the words burst out—she couldn’t contain them any longer. “I mean, I know everyone says how much evidence there is and all—but just—what if?” 

“Munchkin, I really don’t think—”

“Dad, I’m serious. What if he got out—like on a technicality or something?  I mean, anything is possible, right?  Guilty people have gotten out before.” 

There was a long silence. “Anything’s possible,” Dad said finally. “But you have to know that there are many people, Jenna—more than you know about—who are working to ensure that it never happens.  And your testimony—telling the truth about what he did to you—that’s a big part of it, believe me.” 

“But what if I screw it up?”

“You won’t screw it up—you’ll be fine—you’re worrying about nothing.” 

“How do you know I’m worrying about nothing?”  Jenna felt a sudden surge of anger. “It’s not nothing—I could—I could mess up on giving my testimony—the cross-examination—anything could go wrong—you can’t call it nothing.”

The car had stopped now—they were in the parking lot. Jenna wiped at her eyes with a trembling hand, embarrassed by her sudden outburst.

Dad turned to look at her.

“Listen to me,” he said. “No one is going to let you go into court unprepared—we wouldn’t do that to you, Jenna—I promise. We’re going to keep practicing and working at it—and the day you testify you will be ready—I’ll make sure of it.” 

“We don’t have a lot of time, though—I know the hearing’s been moved up to the thirteenth but that’s still not a lot of time.” 

“It’ll be enough time—believe me—you’ll be ready. Okay?” 

“Okay.”   For the first time Jenna noticed her surroundings—the parking lot they were in wasn’t for IFF at all—it was—she looked up at the large building and then over at Dad.

“I thought we were going to see Dr. Pfaff.”

“We are.”

“But this is the courthouse—Dr. Pfaff is here?” 

Dad nodded. “That’s right.” 

“I don’t understand. Why is he here? Why are we?”  The dull ache in Jenna’s stomach began to intensify— the butterflies flapped their wings and her heart thudded like a jackhammer.

Dad took her hand.  “It’s part of your preparation—Jenna—don’t worry—you’ll see.”  

Office of the Commonwealth’s Attorney

4:15 PM

“So this is supposed to help me?” Jenna asked as they left the elevator, walking towards Mr. Dutton’s office.

“That’s the idea—to get you used to the question and cross-examining procedure,” Dad said. “We don’t want you to have any unpleasant surprises.”

“What’s Dr. Pfaff here for?” 

“He’s here—you know—just in case.” 

“In case what? In case I get upset or— something else?” Jenna didn’t want to say words like ‘flashbacks’ or ‘panic attacks’—even thinking them made them seem too real.  A slight shudder ran through her body—luckily Dad didn’t notice.

“Well, yeah—that’s part of it.”  They were at the door—he turned to face her. “Look—all of us are here for you— to help you—we don’t want you to go into this unless you’re absolutely prepared. Okay?” 

“Okay—it’s just—”

“Just what?” 

“Do you think I can do this?”  Jenna asked. “I mean, really?”   

Dad was silent for a couple of moments, his eyes staring into her hers. “Yes—I think you can do this—I know you can, Jenna. I have faith in you, but I need you to have faith in yourself. Will you do that?” 

Jenna drew in a deep breath and nodded.  Dad took her hand, squeezing it briefly.  He pushed open the door and Jenna stepped inside.

“Hello, Jenna,” Mr. Dutton said. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine,” Jenna said. Dr. Pfaff stood beside the attorney—next to Dr. Pfaff stood a tall thin man with very blond hair.

“You know Dr. Pfaff, of course,” Mr. Dutton said. “And this other man is Andrew Welling—he’s part of the prosecutorial team.” 

Mr. Welling smiled as he bent down slightly, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jenna.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” Jenna took his hand—she couldn’t seem to manage a smile back. The butterflies were somersaulting in her stomach.  

“Would you like to take a seat?” Mr. Dutton indicated a chair beside his desk.

“Thanks.”  Jenna sat stiffly, back ramrod straight— hands grasping the wooden armrest tightly.  She forced her breathing back under control—it wouldn’t do any good to freak out—not right now.

“Did your dad tell you what this was about?”  Mr. Dutton asked her.

“Just that it was about preparing me for testifying.” 

“Exactly,” Mr. Dutton said. “We’ll try to prepare you for the types of questions the defense might ask you—and also the different tactics they’ll try to use.”

Dr. Pfaff’s voice broke in. “Do you know anything about how cross examinations work, Jenna?”

“They’re going to try to make me seem less credible—make me look like a liar,” Jenna thought back to all the stuff Terri had been saying—wondering how much of it was from Gary’s defense attorney. He’d been on television—what had he been saying about her all this time?   “That’s what they’ll do—right?” 

“It’s not a personal attack,” Dr. Pfaff told her. “You need to remember that they’re being paid to represent a client—to try and win their case in court. I’m telling you this because sometimes it’s going to feel very personal—I don’t want you to get defensive or shut down in court.” 

“I know.”  Jenna said. 

“Would you like to get started?” Mr. Dutton asked.

Would she?  Given the choice Jenna wouldn’t be here at all—bit at this point it wasn’t really her choice—and everyone was trying to help.

“Tell me what to do.”  She said.

“It’s just a little role play—Mr. Welling’s going to ask you some questions about your case—you remember what your dad and I said about cross-examination?”

Tell the lawyer if you can’t answer a question with a yes or no answer—tell them if you can’t remember—stick to the truth—Jenna was pretty sure that was it.  Again she nodded. Mr. Dutton smiled.

“Excellent,” he said. “Mr. Welling?”

The tall man picked up a sheaf of papers as he approached Jenna—getting closer—instinctively she shrank back.

“Don’t stand over me—get back—please.” she could hear her voice shaking. Mr. Welling looked confused, but he stepped back.

“I’m sorry, Jenna,” he said. “I didn’t mean—” 

“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “It’s just that I—never mind. I’m sorry.”  Jenna saw Dad and Dr. Pfaff exchange glances—suddenly she felt like an idiot.

“Jenna, would you be more comfortable if he sat down?”  Dr. Pfaff asked.

“Yes.”  Jenna said. Mr. Dutton nodded to Mr. Welling, who pulled a grabbed a chair and put it close to her own—he sat facing her.

“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “It’s just that I—never mind. I’m sorry.”  Jenna saw Dad and Dr. Pfaff exchange glances—suddenly she felt like an idiot.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Dad said.  “If someone makes you feel uncomfortable or scared you can tell them that—be assertive.” 

“Jenna, would you be more comfortable if he sat down?”  Dr. Pfaff asked.

“Yes.”  Jenna said. Mr. Dutton nodded to Mr. Welling, who pulled a grabbed a chair and put it close to her own—he sat facing her.

“For the record,” Mr. Welling said. “Your name is Jenna Leigh Stetson?”

“Yes,” Jenna replied.

“How old are you, Jenna?” 

“I’m twelve.” 

“Your date of birth?” 

“January thirtieth.” 

“What year?”

Jenna wondered why he was asking such obvious questions. “1989.” 

“I see—and what grade are you in?” 

“I’m in seventh grade.” 

“Why seventh? Shouldn’t you be in sixth?” 

Jenna shook her head. “I started Kindergarten when I was four.”

“That makes sense.  What’s the name of your school?”

“Kenmore Middle School.” 

“What is your address?” 

This was easy so far—Jenna allowed herself to relax a little. “4247 Maplewood Drive –it’s in Arlington.” 

“Very good. Jenna, do you know why you’re here?” 

What kind of question was that? “Of course I do.”  Mr. Welling said nothing in response—he just sat there staring at her. Jenna looked over at her dad.

“You have to tell him, munchkin,” Dad said. “Just like it’s a real trial. Go on.” 

“Why are you here?”  Mr. Welling repeated.

“Because I was kidnapped.”

“That’s a pretty serious allegation. Who kidnapped you?”

“Gary Johnston.” 

“You’re sure about that?” 

“Of course I am—why—”

“Just answer yes or no, Jenna.” 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so easy, Jenna thought.  “Yes. Gary Johnston kidnapped me.”  

“What else did he do?”

“He hit me—” her hand went to her forehead as she spoke. “Hurt me—he was going to kill me.” 

Mr. Welling was silent for a few moments. Jenna swallowed hard—the silence made her nervous—she could hear her heart thudding in her chest.  She put her hands under her knees and leaned forward—pressing her weight onto her hands—the pressure was comforting somehow.

“Do you know the difference between telling the truth and telling a lie?”  Mr. Welling asked suddenly.

“Yes of course I do,” Jenna said. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Jenna, don’t get defensive—remember, it’s not personal,” Dr. Pfaff said.

Not personal—but it certainly felt like it was.  “Yes—I know the difference between the truth and a lie,” she told Mr. Welling.

“And you still maintain that Gary kidnapped you.”

“He kidnapped me. I was there—I know what happened.” 

“Let’s go back to that day,” Mr. Welling told her. “What day was that?”

“It was January 26.” 

“Of this year?” 

“Yes.”  

“What day of the week was that?” 

Jenna had to think for a moment. “It was a Friday.” 

“And what time was it?” 

The time. “It was after eleven in the morning—between eleven and twelve.” 

“Can’t you get any more exact than that?” 

Admit what you don’t know. “I don’t know the exact time.”  Out of the corner of her eye Jenna saw her father nod approvingly.

“How do you know that it was between eleven and twelve?” 

“Because we got out of school at eleven—because of the snow.”

“Did you walk home?”

“Yes.” 

 “By yourself?”

“Not then—Lisa was with me most of the way.” 

“Not the whole way?” 

“No—not the whole way—she had to go home in a hurry.” 

Mr. Welling paused. “Were you supposed to walk home by yourself?” 

Jenna had never thought of that. “Well no—but it was only a block away.”

“A block away was still breaking the rules—you broke the rules by walking home alone, didn’t you?”

“Well, maybe—but it was only—I didn’t mean—” she looked over at Dr. Pfaff.—at Dad—they were silent.

“Yes or no, Jenna.” 

“I’m sorry, but— it’s not just a yes or no question,” Jenna knew her voice was shaking but she managed to hold it together. “Lisa had to go—I told her I’d be fine. I’d done it before—it was only a block—I didn’t think anything bad would happen.”

“I just want to stop here for a second,” Mr. Dutton’s voice broke in. “Now Jenna, you handled that question very well. If we’d actually been in court I would have objected to that question as being irrelevant and the judge most likely would’ve thrown it out. I just wanted to throw that in there to see how you’d react.” 

“I don’t understand,” Jenna asked.  “Why would they ask a question if they knew it was irrelevant?”

“Mainly to throw you off—make you less sure of yourself. Especially when it comes to the main trial. Juries are very sympathetic to child victims—the defense won’t want to be seen as a bully so they won’t attack you directly—they’ll take the indirect route—try to make you seem incompetent.” 

If Jenna’s head could actually spin, she knew it would be spinning now—strategy—the indirect route—nothing was what it seemed to be—it was all just a big game to these people. This was her life and her safety, though—it wasn’t a game to her.

“What do I do about that?”  she asked.

“What you did was fine,” Mr. Dutton said. “You kept your composure and you didn’t let him get you into a yes or no situation and that was good.  Are you ready to move on?”

“Sure.”  Jenna tried hard to sound confident. “I’m ready.”  She knew she wanted to be ready—everyone was counting on her to be ready—to be strong.

“All right then.”  Mr. Welling looked down at the papers in his hand.  “What happened next, after Lisa left?” 

“I just kept walking—it was really cold—I wanted to get inside where it was warm.” 

“So you were walking fast?”

“As fast as I could—I was only wearing tennis shoes and I didn’t want to slip on the snow.” 

“Did you see anything at that time? Any vehicles?”

“I saw—there was a van.” 

“What was the make and model? The color?”

Jenna hesitated. In her mind’s eye she could see the van—she was walking, watching it from the corner of her eye—the wind stung her face—fingertips numb—

*~~*

‘Have to get inside fast—it’s warm inside—mom will have hot chocolate—’

*~~*

She controlled her breathing, staying in the present—they were only memories now—

“The van was black,” she told Mr. Welling. “I don’t know the make or the model.” 

“At this point I would remind the court that the suspect owns a black van,” Mr. Dutton said. “That will already have been entered into evidence. Continue, Mr. Welling.” 

Mr. Welling nodded before turning back to Jenna.  “What was the van doing?”

“Driving really slow, towards me—the lights were on”

“The headlights?”

“Yes.” 

“Why do you think that was?” 

“It—it could’ve been—” Jenna started to say, but then stopped when she saw the expression on Dad’s face. 'Don't answer if you don't know', she thought.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” 

“Could it have been because it was cloudy?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did you do when you saw the van?”

“Nothing—I just kept walking fast—I wanted to get inside because it was cold.” 

“Did you get inside?” 

“Yes.”  Jenna remembered the rush of relief she’d felt as she’d turned the knob and pulled the door open—she’d made it—

*~~*

“Mom! Grandma! I’m home!” 

*~~*

“What did you do once you got inside?” 

“I called out to Mom or Grandma. I took off my coat—my backpack—hung them on a hook.” 

“Did your mother or grandmother answer you?”

“No—I didn’t hear them.” 

“Where were they?”

“I don’t know—I didn’t hear them.” 

“Did you hear anything else?” 

Had she? Jenna tried to think back. The front door was always slightly creaky—Mom would put WD-40 on the hinges from time to time but it didn’t help much—had she felt a draft, cold air rushing in as the front door had opened?  All she could recall with any clarity was a black-gloved hand yanking her—

“I don’t remember hearing anything,” she said out loud.

“What happened next?”  

“There was a hand—I saw a black glove—I was grabbed—lifted—I kicked—I tried to get away—tried to scream but he covered my mouth— pulled me back.”

“Back where? Back out the door?”

“Yes.”  Jenna gripped the seat of the chair with her hands, pressing down harder. “He had a white cloth in his other hand and he covered my face with it.” 

“Which part of your face?” 

“My mouth and my nose.” The butterflies were going crazy now—the dull ache in Jenna’s stomach—and her head—it was getting worse.

“What was on the white cloth, Jenna?” 

“I don’t know—but it smelled strange—kind of sweet—”

“Tell me what happened next.” 

“I kept trying to fight—but everything—it started to blur—I looked up and I saw a  face—”

“Was it his face?” 

“I—I couldn’t see—everything was blurry—all I could see was a black mask—and then—”

“And then what?” 

“Everything—it all went black.” 

Jenna could feel her heart racing wildly—she tried to bring her breathing under control.

“I think we’ll stop here for now,” Mr. Dutton said.

“That’s a good idea,” Dr. Pfaff said. “We’ll pick this up at the next session—make it Wednesday.” He paused, looking at her.  “How do you feel, Jenna?”

“Okay,” Jenna said. “I’m—I’m fine.”  She was—somehow it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it might be. 

“You did very well,” Mr. Dutton said. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

“Thank you,” Jenna stood—somewhat surprised to find her legs were trembling a little—Dad was right there beside her. 

“We’ll see you on Wednesday,” Mr. Welling said.

 TBC

Some Justice—Part Four

Arlington County Courthouse

Office of the Commonwealth's Attorney

Wednesday, March 28, 2001

4:30 PM 

"Good afternoon, Jenna," Mr. Dutton greeted her as she and dad stepped inside the office. "Please—have a seat."

"Thanks," Jenna took the same chair as before. Dr. Pfaff was there—standing in the far corner—he smiled at her and she smiled back. Mr. Welling was already seated—Jenna guessed that he didn't want a repeat of what had happened in the last session—she felt kind of bad about overreacting—but the thought of someone standing over her was still terrifying. 

"How are you doing?" Dr. Pfaff asked her.  "Everything all right at school and home?"

"There haven't been any big problems," Jenna replied. Apart from nasty looks Terri had left her alone yesterday and today—Jenna was happy about that, but part of her wondered how long it would last—the girl seemed bound and determined to cause her trouble at every turn. 

"I'm glad to hear that," Dr. Pfaff said. "How are you sleeping?  Still doing your relaxation exercises?" 

"Yes," Jenna said. "They help a lot." 

"Are you ready to continue?" Mr. Dutton asked. 

"Sure—the last session wasn't bad—it was a lot easier then I thought it would be."  Jenna saw Mr. Dutton exchange glances with Dad and Dr. Pfaff—Mr. Welling didn't meet her gaze—the butterflies began to flutter.  "What is it?"

Mr. Dutton hesitated. "Jenna, you did very well in the last session and I don't want to discount that in the slightest—but I  also don't want to lie to you—it's going to get a lot tougher than the first session. Do you think you're prepared for that?"

Was she? Jenna had felt so certain a moment ago—but now—it was going to get tougher—how much tougher could it get?  She clasped her hands together tightly—taking a deep breath. 

"I'm sure," she said. "I'm prepared—I can handle this."  Jenna forced a smile. Were they convinced?  They looked like they believed her—at least Mr. Dutton did. With dad and Dr. Pfaff it was harder to tell.

Could she convince herself?  Could she believe? That was the one thing that Jenna wasn't completely sure of. 

"Are you ready to begin?"  Mr. Dutton's question pushed Jenna's worries to the back of her mind.  She nodded.

"Let's start after you lost consciousness," Mr. Welling said. "What happened next?"

"I woke up in a strange bedroom." 

"You remember nothing at all before that?" 

"No." 

"Jenna—you said earlier that you didn't know what was on the cloth that covered your face, correct?"

"Yes."

"Would you say it was some kind of drug?" 

How was she supposed to answer? "I think so." 

"Why do you think so?"

"Because I felt sick when I woke up—kind of dizzy—my head hurt and my stomach felt funny—there was a funny taste in my mouth." 

"That's what made you think you'd been drugged?" 

"That's what made me think that." 

"Did you know what time it was—how much time had gone by?" 

"Yes—I looked at my—my watch."  Her voice faltered at the thought of the watch—instinctively her gaze fell on her wrist—she could almost still feel Gary's fingers there—his large hand  wrapping around her wrist—twisting—the sudden sharp pain that had caused her to cry out in surprise—

Mr. Welling's voice intruded on her thoughts. "What time was it?" 

"Four—it was four PM." Part of Jenna was amazed that she could remember that. 

"And you're sure of that?"

"I'm sure." 

"Describe the bedroom to me." 

"It was a nice room—there was a rainbow bedspread, rainbow curtains—stuffed animals, books." 

"Could you get out of the room, Jenna?" 

"No—the door was locked—the window was boarded over." 

"Did you try to escape?" 

"Yes, I tried to get out." 

"What did you try to do?" 

*~* 

Pulling at the boards—rough wood scraping against her hands as she'd  tried to loosen the boards--and the thick nails that held them in place—

"Hey! Let me out of here!" the door trembled as she'd kicked it—even with stocking feet Jenna had kicked as hard as she possibly could. She'd hit the door with her fist—pushing against it—pulling—nothing worked.  

"Somebody help me—please let me out of here—Mom—Dad—somebody help!"  Her throat scratchy and hoarse from yelling—voice trembling—panic beginning to take over even as she'd tried her best to hold it back. 

*~* 

Mr. Welling was looking at her—Jenna realized that he was waiting for her to speak. 

"I—um—" she cleared her throat. "I tried to pull the boards off the windows—I tried kicking the door, hitting the door—pushing—pulling—nothing worked."

"You had no way of contacting anyone?"

"No—I thought about that—but I had left my cell phone in my backpack." 

"What did you do then?" 

"Nothing—just sat back on the bed—tried not to cry—not to think about what was happening—I thought  I had been kidnapped but I didn't know who—or why." 

"How long were you in the room alone?" 

"I don't know how long." 

"Did someone come up there?" 

"Yes—I heard footsteps." 

"What did you do?" 

"I went over to the bookshelf—there was a CD Player—I unplugged it and picked it up—and then—" 

"Then what?" 

"I saw my face—in the mirror—it was my face, but the hair was all different." 

"Different in what way?" 

"It was red—someone had cut it short." 

"Did you know who had done that?"

"No." 

"I see. What were you planning to do with the CD player?" 

"I was going to hit whoever came through the door." 

"Hit them where?" 

"Over the head." 

"You were planning to physically assault whoever came through the door?"  Mr. Welling asked her. 

"I just—I didn't want to hurt anyone—I just wanted to get out of there—I wanted to go home." 

Mr. Welling's voice rose slightly. "Do you realize what kind of injury that could cause, Jenna—hitting someone over the head with a blunt object?" 

Jenna's hand went to her forehead—underneath her scar a dull ache was beginning to throb.  "Yes—I know what kind of injury—but—" 

"But what?" 

"Now hold on just a minute—" Dad interjected. "My daughter had every right to try and defend—"

"Lee—this isn't helping," Dr. Pfaff said.  "Let Jenna answer." 

"Jenna?" Mr. Welling said. 

"I thought—" Jenna said. "I thought whoever was coming was coming to hurt me. They had drugged me—locked me in a room—I didn't know what else I could do." 

"And you thought that was a reasonable assumption—that it justified a physical assault? Yes or no." 

Jenna struggled to keep her voice calm. "Yes. I thought I was in danger—I had to protect myself from being hurt." 

"Jenna that was an excellent answer," Mr. Dutton said. "We don't know if that's a tactic that the defense might use, but we want you to be ready in case it is." 

"Blaming her is a tactic they might use?" Dad asked. 

"It has been known, Mr. Stetson—Dennis Baylor didn't get his nickname by playing nice. We have to prepare her for everything." 

Tactics, Jenna thought numbly. That's all she was—just a piece on a board to be moved around in this game that everyone was playing—they even talked about her like she wasn't there—her head was really starting to hurt now.

"Do you want to continue?" Mr. Welling asked her. 

Jenna clasped and unclasped her hands. "Yes," she said finally. "I guess so." 

Mr. Welling adjusted his glasses.  "Who was it who came into the room?" 

"It was Suzanne—Gary's wife."  

"Did you hit her with the CD Player?" 

"No—it slipped from my hands and fell." 

"What did Suzanne do?" 

"She was holding a tray—she called me Marcie—she said that my Dad would be angry if I broke the CD player." 

"She called you Marcie?" 

"Yes—I told her I wasn't Marcie—where I lived—said she wasn't my mother."

"How did she react to that?" 

Jenna recalled the hurt look in Suzanne's eyes. "She was confused—I don't think that she knew what was going on." 

"What did you do next, Jenna?" 

"I—" She knew what was coming up—her heart began to beat faster—she watched Dad moving closer to her as she spoke. "I tried to walk out of the room." 

"You didn't make it?" 

"No—Gary was there—he had a gun." 

Mr. Welling was silent for a moment.  "He was pointing a gun at you?" 

"Yes." 

"What kind of a gun?" 

How was she possibly supposed to know that?  "I don't—I don't know much about the types of guns." 

"Was it black? Silver? Smaller? Bigger?" 

"It—it was pointed at me—that's all I know." 

"Jenna, if someone asks you too many questions at once, you can tell them to ask you one question at a time."  Dad said.   

Again Jenna nodded—then she looked back at Mr. Welling. "I don't know the kind of gun." 

"Even though it was pointed at you." 

"I was scared—I wasn't paying attention."
 

"What did Gary do with the gun?" 

"He cocked it."  

"You understand what it means to cock a pistol?" 

"Well Dad has a gun—he's shown it to me before—told me it was dangerous—that it wasn't a toy." 

"Was the type of gun that Gary had similar to your father's gun?" 

"I don't know—like I said, I was scared."  She sounded a little defensive, Jenna knew—but no one said anything about it—maybe it was okay. 

"All right—what did you do after he cocked the pistol?"

"Backed away—he told me to get back in the room."  

"And what happened next?" 

"Suzanne told me to listen to my father—I said that Gary wasn't my father."

"How did he react to that?" 

'Keep it under control—keep it under control—' Jenna looked down at her lap—the thought running through her mind like a mantra. 

"You need to look at the lawyer when answering, Jenna," Mr. Dutton told her. "Look up." 

Jenna looked up. Mr. Welling's eyes peered into her own. 

"How did he react?"  the lawyer repeated. 

"He told Suzanne to leave the room—told her that he could handle me."  As Jenna spoke the memories washed through her mind—only memories—Dr. Pfaff kept saying that—but they still had power. 

"Did he call you Marcie too?"

"Yes—but I think—"

"What do you think?" 

"I think he knew that I wasn't Marcie."

"On what evidence do you base that belief?" 

"I don't know—it was a feeling—the way he acted—he didn't seem confused like Suzanne."

"That's pretty flimsy evidence," Mr. Welling said. 

Jenna didn't know how to answer that. Her eyes stung—she could feel her cheeks burning. 

"Jenna, you need to try to avoid giving conjecture or opinion," Mr. Dutton told her. "Even if your instincts are correct—if you don't have facts to back it up others may not believe you." 

"I understand," Jenna said. 

"Tell me what happened next."  Mr. Welling said. "After Suzanne left the room." 

"He asked me if I had a problem. I said yes—that I wasn't Marcie—that he wasn't my father and Suzanne wasn't my Mom—I said that if he would just let me go back home I wouldn't tell anyone—he wouldn't get in trouble—and then he—"

"Then he what?"

"He told me to shut up—he grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed." 

"With one hand?" 

"Yes."    

"Which hand did he use?" 

"I—" Jenna could remember how cold his hand had been—rough against her skin—fingers bruising, squeezing—smiling in amusement at her feeble attempts to pull away from his grasp. But which hand—nothing was coming to her.   "I can't remember."  

Mr. Welling raised his eyebrows. "You can't remember?"

"No—I was too scared."  

"Do you remember what happened next?" 

"He asked me what my name was—I told him my name was Jenna Leigh Stetson." 

"And what did he say?" 

"He just stared at me for a moment—no expression on his face—then he asked me to repeat what I said—I told him—again—I said my name was Jenna Leigh Stetson."  Jenna's voice began to shake—her entire body—she grasped the edge of her seat tightly—trying to breathe slowly—deeply—

'Keep it under control—'

"What did Gary do next?"  

"He hit me."

"Where did he hit you?" 

"My—my face—" Jenna put her hand on her cheek. 

"Did he hit you on that side of your face—the left side?" 

"Yes."   

*~~*

Too scared to scream—Jenna had never been hit before—she hadn't been prepared—her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes—a coppery taste filling her mouth—blood—she'd bitten her tongue—
*~~*

"How many times did he hit you?" 

"Twice."  Jenna's voice sounded very small to her ears.

*~~* 
The second blow had followed the first—even harder than before—Jenna both heard and felt a sharp crack as her neck snapped backwards—pain lanced across her field of vision—nausea slammed into her gut—bile mixing with the blood that filled her mouth— Jenna's chest had heaved as she drew in deep gulps of air—ears ringing—fighting to keep control—not to give in to the welcoming blackness—

All the while the fingers of his other hand dug into her neck—his icy eyes had bored impassively into Jenna's own—

"What is your name?"  His voice boomed in her ears as his large shadow blocked out the light—
*~~*

"Did he hit you with his open hand or closed fist?" 

"With his open hand." 

"Would you say he hit you hard?" 

"Yes." 

"And did you try to hit him back?"

"No." 

"Why didn't you?" 

The rapid fire questions—the pain in Jenna's head intensified—Dad was sitting beside her now—his hand grasping hers— it should have been comforting—but somehow—"I was scared," Jenna said. "He was holding me there—he was big—bigger than me—he was so strong—" 

"Which hand did he hit you with, Jenna?" 

Jenna shook her head. "I don't—I don't know." 

"If he hit you on the left side of your face, does it follow that he would hit you with his right hand?"

"I said I didn't know—I really don't." 

"Jenna, listen—if I grabbed your neck with my left hand and hit you—" as he spoke Mr. Welling leaned forward slightly—Jenna tried to shrink back—move away—

"What is your name?" Mr. Welling asked. Only  it wasn't Mr. Welling anymore—it was Gary—his cold blue eyes  froze her in place—Jenna couldn't move—

"Mar—Marcie. My name is Marcie."

"Your name is Marcie Ann Johnston. Say it!" 

"My name is Marcie Ann Johnston—my name is Marcie—"

"Jenna!" 

Dad's voice—he knelt in front of her now—he held both of her hands tightly in his own. 

"Daddy—Gary—" her voice came out in a whisper. "He was—he's here—he's going

to—"

"No, he's not here," Dad told her. "You're in Mr. Dutton's office—you're perfectly safe—you just had a flashback. Just breathe, munchkin—take deep breaths—that's it—nice and slow—just relax." 

Relax—slowly the world came back into focus—everyone was staring at her—Jenna realized—Mr. Dutton—Mr. Welling—Dr. Pfaff—the looks on their faces—oh gosh—

"You all right now?"  Dad asked her. 

"Fine—I'm sorry." 

Dad squeezed her hands. "Hey—don't apologize—you're fine." 

She was fine—except she didn't feel fine—far from it.  

Dad let go of her hands as he stood, facing Mr. Dutton. His voice—Jenna had never heard him sound so angry. "That was uncalled for. You know what she's been through—you didn't need to go that far." 

"Mr. Stetson, if we don't the defense will," Mr. Dutton said. "This man has a reputation, if we don't prepare her now we're doing her a disservice." 

"And if we traumatize her," Dad said. "She won't be any good to anyone—" 

"Lee, listen to me." Dr. Pfaff said. "It's better that she has a flashback now than while she's giving her testimony in court—" 

"It's better that she doesn't have a flashback at all," Dad said.  "Damn it, she's been through enough without having to put up with—"

"Stop that!"  Jenna was surprised by the anger in her own voice. "Stop doing that—don't talk about me like that—like I'm not even here—" 

Dead silence. Dad was the first to speak. 

"Jenna—I—we—we really didn't mean to do that—no one was trying to exclude you." 

"It's okay."   Slowly she pushed herself up to a standing position—her legs felt like jelly. Dad took her arm, supporting her. 

"How do you feel now?" Dr. Pfaff asked. 

"Fine, it's just—I didn't mean—I mean,  I know everyone here is trying to help me—" Jenna focused on Mr. Welling. "But when you leaned forward like that, I—I guess I just overreacted."

"You don't have to explain anything to him, Jenna," Dad said. "We'll be leaving now." 

"But Dad," she protested. "I can do this—we can continue—"

"I know you can," Dad said. "I just think that maybe we should stop here for now—we can always pick it up at the next session." 

"I agree," Dr. Pfaff said. 

Pity. They all felt pity for her, Jenna realized—she had tried to be strong—they wanted her to be strong and she had failed—failed her dad—failed everyone—she couldn't manage to get even this right. And if she couldn't even testify in a pretend session without a flashback—how was she ever going to be able to do it for real?

Some Justice—Part Five

Wednesday, March 28, 2001 
 
5:30 PM  
 
 
"Are you sure that you don't want me to carry that?" Lee asked his daughter as he watched her struggle with the backpack. "It seems pretty full."   
 
Jenna shook her head, teeth gritted. "No—I'm fine—I'm not sure why I brought it inside anyway."   
 
"I don't want you to hurt yourself, munchkin."  
 
"I said I can handle it."  
 
"I know you can—I know." Lee had the feeling that she wasn't actually talking about the backpack at all. Jenna slid into the passenger seat of the 'Vette, putting the backpack on the floor. 
 
"Hey," Lee asked. "Did you want to turn on the radio? Maybe that group you like will be playing."   
 
"I don't feel like listening to music right now, Dad."   
 
She wouldn't even look at him—she just stared down at her lap, her hands clenched. Lee tried another tactic. "Look—I know this session was hard on you—if there's anything I can do—" 
 
"Well you can't," Jenna snapped. "No one can."  
 
"Jenna, I'm not your enemy, all right? I'm here to help you—that's all I'm trying to do."  
 
"I know—I'm sorry," Jenna's voice trembled—Lee could tell she was on the verge of tears. "Just take me home—I want to go home." 
 
"Home it is." Lee put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot—traffic was backed up all up and down the road—horns honking—up ahead Lee could make out the flashing lights of a police cruiser—a shrill siren blast as an ambulance and a fire truck made their way down the road. 
 
Great—an accident on top of everything else—the way things were going they'd be lucky to make it home in time for dinner.  
 
He glanced over at his daughter—her head still down—shoulders practically hunched up around her ears—tense, fearful—he had to look away again—Jenna hadn't been this bad in a while, not since— 
 
"My name is Marcie Ann Johnston—please don't hurt me—" almost two months ago—but that particular nightmare was still fresh in his mind—the way she'd cowered, trembling violently—whimpering when he'd tried to touch her—part of Lee had hoped those days were long gone—but this last episode— 
 
"Daddy—Gary—he's here—"   
 
'This just isn't fair,' he thought. 'She's been through too much already—' Rage surged through him. Everything had been going so well—now this—it felt like they were right back at the beginning. Pfaff had said to expect setbacks around this time, Lee knew that—but still— 
 
"If you lose your cool in the courtroom the way you did today, it could be disastrous for our case."  Mr. Dutton had taken him aside after the session and warned him. Lee knew the man was right. This was what he'd agreed to—they had to be hard on her—to prepare her for anything the defense might try to discredit or intimidate her.  
 
"This is going to be difficult for her," Dr. Pfaff had told him two weeks ago—back when they'd planned these sessions.  "But if we let her walk into this blind they'll really hurt her"  
 
A little pain now, or a lot of pain later—that was the choice to be made—the choice he had to make. Personally Lee didn't want Jenna to have any pain at all—she'd already dealt with more than any child should have to in his opinion—but that choice wasn't his, not really—not anymore. All choices had been taken out of his hands one January morning. Gary had ripped Jenna away from her family, her home—changed her—changed all of their lives forever.   
 
'I couldn't stop this from happening—couldn't protect her then—and I sure as hell can't protect her now—' Sitting there in Mr. Dutton's office while Mr. Welling questioned her—his voice harsh, the tone condescending—his daughter's face—so pale—dark eyes wide, body trembling as she recounted the details of her ordeal—and Lee was just expected to stand there impassively while she was attacked—her testimony ripped apart—  
 
All this was for Jenna's own good—in the long run—Lee just wasn't sure if he could follow through with it.  

"Damn!"  The word burst from Lee's lips as a truck cut him off, preventing him from merging into the other lane.  Clenching his right hand into a fist, he thumped the steering wheel hard. 
 
"Are you mad at me?" 
 
Jenna's voice broke the silence. Lee turned to look at her.  
 
"You are," she said. "Aren't you? You're mad at me."  
 
"Mad at you? Of course I'm not mad at you."  
 
"But you are mad—you're mad at something, I can tell." 
 
"Well—I'm upset about the traffic, munchkin—it's got nothing to do with you—believe me."   Jenna said nothing in reply—she bit down hard on her lower lip.  "Why would you think that I was mad at you?" he asked her.  
 
"Because I failed—I let you down."   
 
"What? Jenna—you did not let me down—and I'm certainly not mad at you, all right?" 
 
"But dad, if I hadn't had that flashback—" 
 
"You had the flashback because Mr. Welling went too far—that man was way out of line." A blue van stopped to let him into the next lane—finally, they were moving. "I'm mad at him, not you."     
 
Jenna took a deep breath. "I'm not so sure that he did go too far."   
 
"Jenna—he had no right to lean forward like that—and if that defense attorney even tries to—"  
 
"But all Mr. Welling is doing is trying to prepare me for what the defense—what they might do. He's trying to help—isn't he?"  
 
Trying to help—but all Lee could think of was the terror in Jenna's face as the lawyer had leaned towards her— "Yes, I guess he is,"  he said out loud.   
 
"It's not going to be easy though—I mean, the defense isn't going to be nice to me."  
 
Lee shook his head grimly. "No—the defense won't be nice to you. They care about winning—and they'll probably do whatever it takes."   
 
"Do you think I can do this?" Before Lee could answer, Jenna piled on more questions.  "What happens if I have another flashback—if I have one during the hearing or the trial?"  
 
"That won't happen."  
 
"How do you know it won't happen? Dad—this last one—I didn't even see it coming." 
 
"Well, that's why we're doing this now—so you can see it coming—you will be able to do this—it's better that you have a flashback now so that you don't have one in court." 
 
"That's not what you said during the session. You said—" 
 
"Munchkin—I know what I said," They were at a light—Jenna was looking at him—she was waiting for an explanation—Lee fumbled for the right words. "I just—I really wish you didn't have to go through all this—any of it."    

"I don't really have a choice, though," Jenna's voice faltered slightly. "Do I? If I don't—Gary might go free—I want him where he can't hurt me or anybody else."   
 
"Yeah," Lee said. Part of him still entertained the idea of something more permanent for Gary, but thoughts like that wouldn't help Jenna right now. "I want that too."   
 
"I was trying so hard to be strong—" Jenna's voice faltered slightly. "I thought I could handle it and I couldn't—I can't—I feel so scared, even when I try not to be—and what happened today—I really made an idiot out of myself—didn't I?" 
 
Anger surged again—his hand tightened on the steering wheel. Lee hated seeing her like this—even in prison, Gary was still hurting her.  They were at a light now—he could see the pain in Jenna's eyes as she looked at him—he fought to keep his voice very calm.  
 
"Listen to me, okay?  Everyone there knows what you've gone through—you don't have to hide your feelings—it's natural to be nervous and afraid."  
 
"People will feel sorry for me—they think I can't handle it—and even I'm not so sure myself. If I can't—" 
 
"You can," Lee told her. "I have faith in you—we're going to keep preparing—and you'll get through this—we both will. Okay?"  
 
Jenna smiled sadly. "Thanks, Dad."

TBC

Some Justice—Part Six 

4247 Maplewood Dr.  
 
Wednesday, March 28, 2001 
 
9:30 PM  
 
"Is she asleep?" Amanda asked as Lee came into their bedroom. She put down the booklet she'd been reading—Lee guessed it was another Agency manual—Billy had assigned her to teach another training class.

 
"Yes," Lee sat on the bed beside his wife. "She's all curled up in that little ball again—even with the relaxation exercises."  
 
"It's understandable, isn't it?"  Amanda took his hands in hers. "Today wasn't exactly easy on her."  
 
Lee shook his head. "No, it wasn't—if she sleeps through the night we'll be lucky."  
 
"We knew there'd be setbacks around this time, remember? We talked about it."   
 
"I know we talked about it, Amanda—I—just—seeing her have that flashback—the fear in her eyes was—I sort of hoped I'd never have to see that again." He drew in a deep breath—trying to dispel the image from his mind. "If Welling hadn't—" 
 
"I'm sure Mr. Welling didn't mean any harm—he's there to help Jenna, remember?"   
 
"Help—do you really think any of this is actually helping her?"  
 
"Of course it is—by exposing her to this, helping to prepare her—we'll make her strong enough to face what's coming."  
 
"Maybe—or we'll end up doing even further damage." 
 
"Lee—I really doubt that. We're doing this in a safe environment, Jenna trusts you—she trusts Dr. Pfaff—she knows we'd never hurt her."   
 
"I hope you're right—but I'll tell you one thing—if that defense attorney so much as moves even one millimeter from his chair during the hearing, I swear—I'll—" he paused. "I'm sorry, I know comments like that aren't helpful."    
 
Amanda squeezed his hands. "No—but they're understandable."   
 
"I'd just like to spare her any more pain, that's all."   
 
"That's what these mock sessions are meant to do."   
 
"Well you wouldn't think so if you saw one—I mean, that flashback—" 
 
"How did Jenna react afterwards?" Amanda asked.  
 
"As soon as she realized she was safe, she was fine—actually—I think she was probably more embarrassed than anything else."  
 
"Embarrassed?"  
 
"That it had happened in front of everyone," Lee said, thinking back to that moment. Amanda nodded understandingly as he spoke.  "Afterwards she even wanted to continue with the session—but I thought it was best to go home and pick it up later—Pfaff agreed with me." 
 
"How did Jenna feel—how was she in the car going home?"   
 
Lee was silent for a few moments—staring down at the carpet. "She thought I was mad at something—that I was mad at her—that she'd let me down somehow." His voice was very low. "I swear—I never meant to make her think that." 

"But you were angry at something."  Even though he wasn't looking at her Lee could feel her gaze on him—eyes piercing—she was always able to see right through him.  
 
"I told her I was angry at the traffic—which was part of the truth—I didn't want her to know the real reason."   
 
"Which is?"  
 
"The whole situation, that's what I'm angry at," Lee said. "That she even has to testify—that Gary won't plead guilty and spare her all this—the very least he could do.  I want that man behind bars for life, but having to sit there and listen to that—the lawyers berating Jenna, picking on the little things—it's killing me that I'm supposed to sit there quietly and let them do that, not say anything—not make a scene."   
 
"You jumped in, didn't you?" Amanda asked. Again Lee nodded.  "What did you say?"  
 
"All I tried to do was defend her, Amanda—that's all I did."   
 
"Lee, she has to speak for herself in court."   
 
"I'm just trying to protect her—lord knows I haven't been able to protect her from much, but I at least have to try."  
 
"Protecting her is one thing, but if you're jumping in every few minutes you could be making her feel like she can't do it herself—and you could damage the case."  
 
"Mr. Dutton said that too—that if I kept doing that, if I couldn't control myself—that maybe I wasn't the best person to be with her while she testifies. Maybe I'm not—maybe you, or Francine—even Billy."  
 
"She'll want you though—she'll want you there—you make her feel safe." 
 
Safe—Lee thought back to Jenna curling up into that tight little ball—she certainly didn’t seem like she felt safe then.   
 
"I'd like to be there with her," he told Amanda. "If I harm her case, though—that wouldn't be good."  
 
"No, it wouldn't be."  Amanda said.  
 
"So, what do I do?  I don't want to hurt her, but I don't want to abandon her either."  
 
"I think you might want to go see Dr. Pfaff yourself."   
 
"Again?" Lee repeated. Pfaff was one thing he'd really hoped was in his past. "You think he can help?"   
 
"Yes, I do—when's Jenna's next session?" 
 
"Friday."    
 
"Well in that case you can see him tomorrow." 
 
Pfaff—part of Lee had really hoped that he'd seen the last of those sessions. On the other hand—if it would help him to help Jenna, to support her without blowing up like this—"Yeah—I'll do it," he said finally. 

IFF  
 
Thursday, March 29, 2001  
 
8:30 AM 
 
"I have to say, it's a surprise to see you here this morning, Lee."  Dr. Pfaff said. "Although after yesterday, maybe not such a surprise. Ice cream?"   
 
"No—I and I don't need the sofa either." Lee replied. 
 
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," crouching beside the freezer, Dr. Pfaff pulled out an ice cream sandwich. He sat down on the sofa as he unwrapped the sandwich. "How's Jenna? Did she have a good night?" 
 
Lee shook his head. "No—it wasn't a good night at all."   
 
"Was it a nightmare?"  
 
Lee couldn't speak for a moment as the images flooded his mind—Jenna all curled up, shaking—a soft keening noise coming from deep in her throat—tears soaking his shirt as he held her trembling form tightly, rocking her the way you'd rock an infant.  
 
"You're safe now, munchkin—he's gone—he'll never hurt you again." 
 
"No—getting out—he's coming for me—he's here—"  
 
"He's not here—I promise—he'll never have the chance—"  
 
He realized that Dr. Pfaff was looking at him curiously—waiting for him to speak.  
 
"One nightmare—it was pretty bad—she kept saying that Gary was getting out—that he'd come for her."  
 
"That's a reasonable fear—especially with the approaching hearing. How long did it take to calm her down?"   
 
"About fifteen minutes."   
 
"We'll keep working on that—the relaxation—we'll get there," Pfaff said.  "You're going to need to be patient, Lee—these setbacks don't mean that Jenna's having a complete relapse—it's just a normal reaction to the stress she's under."   
 
"You say that—you've said that before—it's just sometimes with Jenna I feel—" 
 
Pfaff took a bite out of his ice cream. "Feel what?"   
 
"Well sometimes she seems grown up—almost like a teenager—other times it's like she's a little girl again."  
 
"Lee, she's at that in-between age," Dr. Pfaff said. "Also, some regression is a standard part of PTSD in children— so if Jenna calls you 'daddy' instead of 'dad', wants to cuddle a favorite stuffed animal or watches shows she enjoyed when she was younger it's all normal—there's no reason to panic about it."   
 
"So there's no problem?" 
   
"If there was a severe regression I might worry—a small regression simply means she's feeling a little insecure and stressed. The PTSD has not gone away, you know. It's lessened—she's healing—but it's still there."  
 
Still there. Lee drew a deep breath into his lungs and let it out slowly. "And the flashback Jenna had yesterday—was that normal too?" 
 
Pfaff nodded. "Very normal."   
 
"Jenna said she didn't even see it coming."   
 
"I'm not surprised—it's still an unconscious reaction with her, especially when she's in a vulnerable position—we really have to work on that."   
 
"Work on it with her?" Lee repeated. "How?" 
 
"Show her that everyone who leans towards her or stands over her does not mean to harm her—break the link—it's part of the thought challenging portion of PTSD, remember?"   
 
"I remember now." Lee said. "But I'm telling you right now—that lawyer of Johnston's better keep his distance from Jenna."  
 
"Ideally I'd prefer that too—but there's no guarantee—that man has a tendency to see how far he can push the envelope—and I'm betting he'll pull out all the stops for a trial this high-profile."  
 
"Yeah."   Lee had switched on the news in the Q-Bureau this morning to see the man on the Today Show, claiming that the gag order was 'an attempt to stifle his freedom of speech'—he had been forced to turn off the set before he punched the screen through with his fist.  
 
"You see why we're preparing Jenna now?" Dr. Pfaff said. "She was embarrassed by her episode yesterday—imagine how she'd feel if she had that attack on CCTV or worse yet—in the open courtroom."  
 
"I see it," Lee said. "Of course I do—objectively, I can see it—but the reality—it's hard for me to sit there and watch my own child going through all that pain—and I'm just supposed to sit and watch." 
 
"The truth is, if you don't sit through it, she'll end up hurting much more in the long run."  Dr. Pfaff threw his ice cream wrapper into the wastepaper basket. "Jenna wants you there, Lee—she wants you to sit beside her—she feels safe with you." 

The same thing Amanda had said last night. "Doc, I want to be beside her—I don't want her to go through all this without support—but maybe what Mr. Dutton said was right—maybe I'm not the best one to be there."   
 
"Not if you keep doing what you're doing, no."    
 
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Lee said dryly.  
 
"Lee, what do you want me to say?"  Dr. Pfaff said. "That you jumping in every two minutes during Jenna's testimony is okay? You know that's not true—you wouldn't be here if you didn't think there was a problem."   
 
"Yes I know that, but I don't know how to stop—and if I can't stop. I shouldn't be there—I don't want to hurt Jenna's case."    
 
"Why can't you stop?"    
 
Why—that was the most important question—and the hardest—Lee took yet another deep breath, running both hands through his hair.  
 
"I just—I see her going through that—she just looked so sad—so scared—I just wanted to protect her, that's all."  
 
"Possibly because you felt like you couldn't protect her in the past—is that it?"  
 
"It could be," Lee said guardedly.  
 
"Can't you see that getting Gary Johnston out of her life—out of all of your lives—would do the most to protect Jenna in the long run?  You don't want him to be acquitted."  
 
"Of course I don't!"  Lee snapped.  
 
"And yet that's what could potentially happen if you sabotage Jenna's testimony." 
 
The man's detached tone was downright infuriating to Lee—making a fist, he thumped his leg, hard. "I'm not—that's not what I'm trying to do here."    
 
"I never said that you were purposely trying to do that, Lee—but if you continue this way that's exactly what you'll be doing."  
 
"I—that's not what I want to do—I want to help Jenna, support her—not hurt her."  
 
"Well, that's why you're here." 
 
Lee didn't reply, just nodded as Dr. Pfaff continued speaking.   
 
"By jumping in, what you're telling Jenna—in an indirect sense—is that you have no confidence in her ability to testify—by trying to protect her you're saying that you don't believe in her—you don't think she can do it herself."  
 
"But I do think she can do it—I told her that she could do it—that I had faith in her."  
 
"Those are just words—your actions say otherwise." 
 
"That's not what you said during the session." 
 
Jenna had told him that yesterday, in the car—was that what he was doing? Lee wondered—saying one thing but showing her another? She had wanted to continue the session—told him she could do it—he had told her she could but his actions—hustling her out of the room— 
 
All he wanted to do was protect her—but how to do that without hurting everything—he shook his head, trying to untangle his jumbled thoughts and feelings.  
 
"What is it?"  Dr. Pfaff asked.   
 
"I'm just—I guess I'm angry—Jenna thought I was angry at her yesterday—asked me—she  thought she had let me down, but it wasn't—that wasn't it at all." 
 
"If you weren't angry at Jenna, who were you angry at?"   
 
"Everything that she's having to go through—the whole situation—it isn't right that this is happening to her. She wouldn't even have to testify if Gary would just plead guilty."   
 
"That's not going to happen—and you know it,"  Dr. Pfaff said. "You're not in control here—you can't control everything that happens."   
 
Lee laughed shortly.  "You know—I can't think of the last time I was in control of what happens to my child."   
 
"No—that's probably what angers you the most—and you need to find some way of putting that behind you." Dr. Pfaff said. "Jenna gravitates toward you—and she takes her cues from you—if you show her that she can't do it herself it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy."   
 
"And what will she think if I just stand there and let her be attacked—if I don't protect her?"    
 
"Don't think of it that way—your presence is support enough—even without saying anything—if you're calm, she'll be calm too—and she’ll be able to get through this."    
 
Part of Lee knew Dr. Pfaff was right—but still— 
 
"And if I don't—if I can't?"  
 
"If you don't—she doesn't stand a prayer in that courtroom. Think about it, Lee—I'll see you and Jenna tomorrow."  

TBC

Some Justice—Part Seven

4247 Maplewood Dr. 

Thursday, March 29, 2001

8:40 PM 

"What are you watching?" 

Jenna's voice startled Lee—he turned to see her standing there in her pajamas and robe. 

"Just a basketball game," he told her. "Suns versus the Rockets. Aren't you supposed to be in bed? Did you finish your homework?" 

"My bedtime's not till nine—Mom checked my homework." 

"And you did your relaxation exercise?" 

"Yes, I did." 

"That's great," Lee said. "I'm proud of you."  They were letting her practice those on her own now—Pfaff's idea—he had told Lee that they would practice more exercises to help her instantly relax tomorrow. 

"So those are the Houston Rockets, right?" Jenna asked. 

Lee nodded. "Those are the ones." 

"Can I watch too?" 

Basketball on TV was not Jenna's favorite thing, Lee knew—but it was obvious from looking at her that she had something on her mind. 

"Sure you can watch with me—sit down."

Jenna sat beside him on the sofa, one leg pulled to her chest and the other leg tucked underneath her.  For a few moments she was silent, her eyes fastened to the TV screen. Lee wanted to say something, ask her—but he waited, wanting to see whether she'd open up on her own. 

"Who's winning?"  Jenna asked. 

"Top left of the screen, munchkin."

"Oh yeah—the Rockets are ahead—not by much though."

"Well, that's why it's a good game."  

"Lisa likes to go to the gym during lunch to watch the basketball team," Jenna said. "She says that she likes to watch the cute guys sweat—but of course I’ve never done that." 

Lee gave a small inward smile at Jenna's hasty  backpedaling—growing up so fast, he thought—but part of him just hoped it wasn't too fast. The thought of his little girl being into boys still tied his stomach up in knots.  "I know you don't." 

"Dad, I can’t do it."  

A sudden change in subject—Lee turned away from the game on the screen and looked at her. 

"Munchkin?"

"No, this time I really mean it. I've been thinking about it all day and I just can't—it's too much, it's too big.  I'll never be able to get over being so afraid and the defense is out to get me—I'll make an idiot of myself and ruin everything—so I can't do it.”  Her voice shook, her dark eyes wide, brimming—Amanda's eyes. 

Lee took a deep breath. "Listen to me, this is not too big for you. If it was, we wouldn't let you do it—we wouldn't be trying to prepare you.  Everyone has faith in you."

"Do you have faith in me? Really?" 

Pfaff had been right—much as Lee hated to admit that—by jumping in on her behalf he'd been crippling her—telling her that she needed him to do it for her—that he didn't trust her to do it alone. 

"I do have faith in you," he took her hand as he spoke. "I know—I know that I might not have shown it yesterday, jumping in instead of letting you handle it yourself—"

"But you were just trying to protect me." 

"But you don't need me to protect you,"  Lee could see confusion in her face—he really needed to explain himself before she misunderstood.  "You need me just to be there, to support you—but to let you do it on your own, because I know you can—all right?"  He knew he was about as clear as mud, but hopefully she got some of what he was trying to say. 

"How are you so sure I can do it on my own? How can I possibly beat the defense—I mean—they know more—they're used to this and I'm not—and they want me to fail."

"It's not personal—they're being paid—don't think of them as enemies—they're just doing their job—even if their job is defending that—defending Gary." 

"You're mad about that though—that's the same look you had yesterday.” 

She takes her cues from you—that's what Pfaff had told him—Lee hadn't been aware of how transparent he was being, but now—

"Jenna—I guess what makes me angry is that if Gary Johnston would just plead guilty you wouldn't even have to testify—you could put this all behind you." 

"He's not going to do that though,"  Jenna shook her head. "Not him—he enjoys hurting people—especially me."  

Letting go of her hand Lee put his arm around her, pulling her close. "I guess that's the other part of what upsets me,"  he told her. "No one likes to see their child hurting—you feel angry at someone who hurts the people you love." 

Jenna drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm angry at him too—so is Mom—she's says it's natural and it's all right.” 

"Your mother is absolutely right,"  Lee said. 

"Dad—all those questions, though—I'm worried that if I forget something or mess up on even one—I'll ruin everything." 

Carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders—Lee could feel the tension in her body as she rested against his side.  "You won't ruin everything—no one is expecting you to be perfect." 

"But if I—" 

"They're just questions—that's all a cross-examination is—people ask you questions every day, don't they?" 

"Not those types of questions they don't." 

"Well,"  Lee paused, racking his brain. "Well—ahhh—maybe it would help to try not to think of  what types of questions they are—try to think of all questions as the same." 

Jenna frowned. "Huh?" 

"Let's try some questions—What time did you get up this morning?" 

"You know what time I got up this morning." 

"Humor me—pretend that I don't know. What time did you get up?" 

"Dad—this is silly." 

"Just answer the question." 

"Okay—I got up at seven-thirty." 

"How did you know it was seven-thirty?" 

"Because my alarm clock goes off then." 

"And you didn't hit the snooze button? You're sure?"

Jenna sighed. "I'm sure." 

"Please don’t sigh, Miss Stetson—and don't giggle." Lee found himself unable to suppress a grin as a small noise escaped from Jenna’s pressed-together lips.  "Let's continue—what did you wear?" 

"My lavender sweater and jeans." 

"Why did you wear that?" 

"It was cold outside and I like lavender." 

"Lavender the color?" 

"Yes." 

"Okay—and then you went downstairs to have your waffles, right?" 

"Yes—wait a minute—no—we didn't have waffles."

"So then you didn't come downstairs? You stayed upstairs?" 

"No, I came downstairs." 

"You just said you didn't."

"That's not what I—"

"Yes or no,  Miss Stetson."

"I can't answer just yes or no—I came downstairs, but we had pancakes, not waffles." 

"Then what did you do after breakfast?" 

"I got my backpack and you took me to school." 

"How did I take you? Was it in a car?  What kind of a car is it? What color?"

"That's too many questions at once." 

"What kind of a car?" 

"A silver Corvette." 

“How many miles did we drive?” 

"I don't know."   

"You see?"  Lee said. "You handled those questions really well. You were calm and assertive—you didn't let me put any words into your mouth." 

Jenna smiled. "Yeah." Then her smile faded. "I wish the questions they're going to ask me in court could be that simple though.” 

”Well try and approach them like they are simple questions."  

"That's hard though—I mean—talking about some of that stuff—it still brings up feelings—it still scares me sometimes. And that flashback I had—and then the nightmare last night—"

"That stuff is normal, munchkin. It's just because you're under stress—and it's okay—it's normal. And I promise, we'll keep working on it—like a team. Deal?" 

"Deal—" the word came out with a yawn—Jenna covered her mouth. 

"You should probably go to bed—it is getting kind of late." 

"Yeah—I think I should—thanks Dad."  She hugged him. "That really did help—good night." 

He kissed her forehead. "Good night, Jenna." 

Arlington County Courthouse

Friday, March 30, 2001

4:15 PM 

"How are you doing today, Jenna?" Dr. Pfaff asked as they entered the office.

"Pretty good,"  Jenna took her usual seat—Dad sat beside her. "Where's Mr. Dutton and Mr. Welling?"

"Well they'll be in here in just a moment—but I thought it should just be us to start with,"  Dr. Pfaff said. "How did school go?" 

"It was a nice day," Jenna told him. The only dark spot had been meeting Terri briefly in the hallway while heading to Algebra—the girl hadn't actually said anything to her, but if looks could kill—Jenna had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach—the feeling that Terri wasn't through with her—she was just biding her time until she could launch another attack.  "I—um—I made a 'B plus' on my Social Studies project," she added. 

Dr. Pfaff actually smiled. "Jenna, that's great—you should be very proud of yourself." 

"Thanks," Jenna said. 

"I heard that Wednesday night was kind of rough for you, though," Dr. Pfaff continued. "Would you like to talk about that?" 

"There's not much to say, really—I just had a nightmare." 

"I see."  Dr. Pfaff took a stick of gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth—Jenna guessed that he was probably missing his ice cream right about now. "And what was the nightmare about?" 

"That Gary was getting out—that he was coming—he was going to take me again—and kill me—like he did with Marcie."  Jenna still wasn't sure exactly what Gary had done to Marcie, how he had killed her—part of her wasn't sure that she even wanted to know. The thought that someone's Dad could hurt their own child that way was still—a small shiver ran through her body. 

"You okay, munchkin?" Dad asked quietly. Jenna nodded. 

"Why do you think you had that nightmare?" Dr. Pfaff asked her. 

"I guess—maybe because I'm a little nervous about my testimony,"  Jenna said. "I worry that if I mess things up, Gary might go free—and my nightmare would come true. I mean that's possible, isn't it?"

"Anything is possible, Jenna—" Dr. Pfaff said. "However, I would like to remind you that there is a lot of physical evidence against Johnston. Even without your testimony  the prosecutors would probably be able to make a case—but your testimony will make it easier—they may even be able to put him away for life." 

"So, it's not all on me?"  Jenna felt slightly relieved at the thought—the knot in her stomach had loosened a little last night—she could feel it loosening even more. 

"No, it's not all on you," Dr. Pfaff replied. "But you are making a very valuable contribution." 

"Dad practiced with me last night—the questioning,"  Jenna said. "The questions didn't have anything to do with the case, but it helped—I feel a little less nervous."

"But it still makes you nervous—doesn't it?" Dr. Pfaff asked. 

Jenna nodded. "I'm just worried—if I freeze up or flashback in court—I don't want to—but sometimes talking about what happened still makes me feel scared."

"What happened to you was frightening," Dr. Pfaff said. "Fear is a natural feeling for this type of situation—but we can find ways to manage it so it doesn't overwhelm you while you're testifying." 

"I already know about controlling my breathing." 

"Yes, and you know about progressive muscle relaxation. The first technique I'd like to show you is a variation of that—called quick tense and relax. Would you like to try it?"

"What do I have to do exactly?" 

"Take a deep breath—lift your shoulders, push your chest out and wrinkle up your face," Dr. Pfaff said. "Basically like the muscle relaxation, only you tense all of your muscles at once."

"And then what?" 

"Hold it for five seconds and then let your breath out slowly—say the word 'relax' to yourself and let your body go limp like a rag doll's. You'll be able to practice this at home but I'd still like to try it here." 

Jenna hesitated. She still felt kind of silly doing these things—she glanced over at Dad, who gave her an encouraging smile. 

"Okay—I'll try." 

Jenna drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes—pushed her chest out—shoulders up—face tensed—fists clenched—legs squeezed together.

'Can't see…don't know what's coming…' for a moment Jenna's heart raced just a little faster—but Dad was here—even if she couldn't see him—he was there—she was in the office—she was safe—the thoughts repeated itself in her mind-—calming her. 

"Great," Dr. Pfaff said. "Five seconds now—five—four—three—two—one—now let out your breath—relax—slowly, Jenna—don't rush it." 

'Relax...relax...relax...'  Jenna felt like she was a balloon with the air leaking out—her body growing limp—strangely enough it was a pleasant sensation. Her muscles loosened, fists unclenching—head resting back against the soft chair—so comfortable—

"Eyes open, Jenna." Dr. Pfaff's voice seemed to come from a distance. Jenna opened her eyes, focusing on him.

"How do you feel?"  Dr. Pfaff asked. 

"Good—relaxed." Jenna rubbed at her eyes. "Little sleepy, though."

"Well that's probably because you're used to doing this sort of thing before bedtime, which is good. However, you can really do this any time you want—whenever you're stressed." 

"But I wouldn't want to do that in public—not where anyone could see me scrunching up my face like that."   Terri would have a field day if she saw Jenna doing that—instead of 'Scarface Stetson' it would probably be 'Spaz Stetson' or something like that.

"That's where the Quick Relax comes in—so you can relax without tensing—that's what we're going to try next. I want you to inhale as deeply as you can—hold it for five seconds and let it out slowly—saying 'relax' to yourself the way you did in the previous exercise—let your muscles loosen without tensing them first—got it?"

Jenna nodded. "Yeah, I think so.  Do I have to close my eyes?" 

"Not unless you really want to." 

Jenna drew in her breath—her chest lifted slightly—stomach muscles pulling in—she counted silently—five—four—three—two—one—relax—relax—relax—this time she pictured the air mattresses they used for camping—the air going out—the mattress getting flatter—her heartbeat slowed, muscles limp, loose—

"You did that very well," Dr. Pfaff said. "And you can keep practicing those at home along with the regular relaxation exercise." He paused. "Are you ready to continue with the questions now?" 

Another encouraging smile from Dad—he thought she could do it—he had faith—they were a team. Jenna looked at Dr. Pfaff—again she nodded.

SMK SMK SMK SMK 

"Okay, Jenna—we left off where Gary had hit you," Mr. Welling sat across from her again—keeping his distance—he was probably afraid that she'd have another episode. Dad stayed beside her—just knowing he was there made her feel safer.

"Okay," Jenna replied. 

"You said that Gary was holding the back of your neck so you couldn't move?" 

"Yes," Jenna said. 

"With which hand?"

"I don't remember." 

"But he did hit you twice? You remember that clearly?" 

"That's right." 

"And you said he hit you hard? What do you mean by hard?" 

"He--" Jenna felt her heartbeat increase slightly—she controlled her breathing. "My head snapped back—my face felt numb—and blood—" she swallowed. "I could taste blood in my mouth—my ears started ringing and I felt—everything blurred and I felt sick—I was scared that  I would pass out—I took really deep breaths so that didn't happen."

"And he didn't hit you a third time?"

"No." 

"Why do you think that was, Jenna?" 
 
"Because I gave in—I told him my name was Marcie Ann Johnston—he made me say it three times." 

"What happened after that?" 

"He—let go of my neck—he told me to quit saying that I wanted to go home—because I was home—and that I was never leaving. Then he told me to eat my dinner." 

"Did you eat?" 

"No—I told him that I wasn't hungry." 

"Now that's a puzzler, Jenna—why would you do that—if he had really hit you before—wouldn't you be afraid that he might hit you again?  If someone had allegedly hit me the way you just described I would do anything they wanted." 

"But he—I mean—" Jenna's voice shook slightly—cheeks burning—her hands clenched around the armrests. 

"Are you sure you're telling me the whole story?" 

Just ordinary questions—that's all they were—Jenna thought back to the questions from last night—if she just thought about them like that, maybe she could do this—without getting defensive.  She breathed in and out slowly and looked Mr. Welling in the eyes as she spoke.

"I didn't eat because I felt sick—I was in pain—if I had eaten I probably would've thrown it up." 

"Were you scared that he might hit you again?" 

"Yes—very scared."  

"Did he hit you again?"  

"No—he kicked the tray instead—the glass broke—food and milk splattered over the wall—he told me to have it my way—it would be the last I'd get for a while." 

"And after that?" 

"Gary left—he locked the door and I was by myself." 

"What did you do? Did you try to escape?" 

"No—I—" her eyes stung--for some reason this part seemed harder than the rest—she fought to stay calm—everything was all right—everything would be okay. "I curled up on the bed—I cried—thought about getting home-—I just wanted to be home—I cried until I fell asleep."

'Mom, Dad—whatever happens, please don't give up on me'

No one had given up on her—she hadn't given up—she had survived—people had told Jenna that before—until now she'd never really felt it. 

Dad's hand found her own, squeezing gently.  Everyone else had fallen silent.  Mr. Dutton cleared his throat. 

"I think we'll end this for now, Jenna—but I want you to know that you handled that round of questioning wonderfully—an excellent job." 

"He's right, munchkin," Dad said. "You were great." 

Jenna's cheeks still burned, but this time she was smiling. "Thanks."  That was all that she could think of to say. 

"We'll see you again this next Monday," Mr. Dutton told her. 



TBC

Some Justice—Part Eight

Ballston Common Mall 

Saturday, March 31, 2001

1:30 PM 

"You know, I'm still amazed your parents let you come here."  Lisa said as they walked through the automated doors into the mall. "I would've thought they were going to keep you under lock and key forever." 

"Lisa, come on—it's not that bad," Jenna said. "I mean, what happened was scary for everyone—so you can't really blame them for being a little protective."

"A little?  Your Mom made us promise that we would stay together at least ten times. I felt like I was eight years old again with that 'buddy system' when she'd take us camping—remember?" 

"Okay, now you're exaggerating." 

"Maybe," Lisa conceded. "That's a big maybe." 

They were standing in front of the map kiosk—people milling around them—so many people. Jenna had forgotten just how crowded the mall could get.  A white-haired man walking past gave her a strange look—Jenna's hand went to her forehead, automatically, her fingers tracing the scar—she was sure she'd put concealer on earlier—did it still show?  Was that what he'd been staring at?

'Now you're getting paranoid, Jenna.'  She told herself. 

"So have you decided what to get your dad for his birthday?" Lisa's voice broke into her thoughts--Jenna looked at her.  "What day is it on?"  

"Tuesday—we're having a surprise party in the evening—and I'm still drawing a blank," Jenna said. "Do you have any ideas?" 

"Um—how about some cologne?"  

"Definitely not." Jenna suppressed a shudder at the thought. 

"Got it, no cologne. Ties, maybe?"  

Jenna shook her head. "Dad's got lots of ties—most of them probably cost more than I could afford from my allowance." 

"How much do you have exactly?" 

"I’ve saved seventy-five dollars—and that also needs to cover the card and dinner at the Food Court." 

"So—that leaves about sixty dollars—there's a lot of nice things you could get with sixty bucks." 

"I know that—I just can't think of anything." 

"What did you get him last year?" 

"A t-shirt—but Phillip is already getting him a shirt—he said." 

Lisa's face brightened. "Phillip's coming?"

"Yeah, and Jamie too. Don't look that way, Lisa—he's way too old for you." 

"I can dream, can't I?  Hey, maybe I'll even drop over—" 

Jenna smiled. "You do and you'll have to buy a present."  

Lisa pouted. "You're no fun, Jenna Stetson." 

"Listen, can we get out of your fantasy world and into the 'I still have no present' world?"  Jenna looked at the map, at the little red arrow that told them where they were—not very helpful when they didn't know where to go. 

"Don't stress about it," Lisa said. "We've got plenty of time—we'll walk around—something will hit you." 

"Excuse me!" The voice barked at her from behind. 

Heart pounding wildly, Jenna jumped aside, flattening herself against the kiosk as a woman, wearing stretch pants, a baggy t-shirt and a fanny pack and pushing a stroller practically threatened to run them down, weaving in and out of shoppers as she dove into the crowd. 

"Well someone's in a hurry for their Starbucks," Lisa said. "Either that or she's doing some crazy power-walking there." 

"I—" Jenna started to say as a man in a suit brushed past her, the cell phone glued to his ear.


"I told them already," cell-phone man said. "If I have to pay any closing costs I'm backing out right now—no—no you deal with it, Stacy—I'm through talking." Jenna watched as cell phone man nearly collided with a group of older teens, wearing baggy shirts and pants practically down to their knees. 

"Damn, dude—watch it." the blond guy with dreadlocks muttered. But the man didn't even reply, just strode past, immersed in his own little world. 

"Everyone's in such a hurry to get nowhere," Lisa muttered. "At least that's what my sister always says—hey are you all right?" 

"Fine," Jenna was surprised to discover that her hands were shaking violently—her legs too. She took deep breaths, counting, willing her heartbeat to slow—her body to relax. "I'm fine, it just—it took me by surprise—that's all." 

"Totally understand."  Lisa took her cell phone out of her pocket. "Your mom will be back by seven—we have lots of time—why don't we get an ice-cream before we start shopping?  We need the sugar, for energy, you know?"

Ice cream—it reminded Jenna of Dr. Pfaff—maybe it really did help people feel better. 

"Sure," she said. "Ice cream would be awesome." 

4:30 PM

"What are we doing here?"  Lisa asked. 

Jenna wasn't quite sure herself—she just had a feeling. "I just wanted to look at the jewelry counter, that's all." 

"The men's jewelry counter? Didn't we already get a present for your dad?"

"The car calendar only cost fifteen dollars, Lisa—I still have more money to spend."

"You don't have to spend it all on the birthday, you know—there's some clothes over there we could look at." 

"Lisa—"

"Okay, okay—geez, you're stubborn." 

"We'll look at the clothes in a sec, I promise."  Jenna looked at the jewelry displayed underneath the counter—gleaming gold and silver—sparkling diamonds—most of it in the hundreds of dollars and completely beyond her budget.  But then—something caught her eye—in the corner of the case—she stared at the little scarecrow engraved on each one—they'd be perfect, Jenna thought—but the price—

"Excuse me,"  she called out to the bored-looking salesman behind the counter. "How much are these cufflinks? There's no price listed." 

"The scarecrow cufflinks?"  the man said. "They were a Halloween novelty item—they never really caught on." 

Scarecrows. Jenna thought back to dad—the scarecrow doll he'd given her—to her the cufflinks looked just right. They weren't too showy and Dad could use them—he was always misplacing his other ones.  It would be perfect.  "But how much are they?"  she asked again. 

"Well—if you really want to buy them they're thirty dollars—but we have some nice sterling silver ones over here—they're only seventy- five—very elegant." 

"I want the scarecrow ones," Jenna took the cash out of her purse. "How much is it altogether—with tax?" 

"Thirty-one dollars and sixty-five cents."  Jenna handed the man thirty two dollars—he handed her the change and then put the cufflinks in a box and then in a small paper bag, handing it to her. 

"Why do you want those?"   Lisa asked. 

Jenna smiled. "Because they're special." 

"If you say," Lisa shook her head bemusedly, but she was smiling. 

SMK SMK SMK SMK 

5:30 PM 

"So, is it Wendy's or McDonald's?" Lisa asked as they strolled through the food court. 

"What about Sbarro's ?" 

"Pizza? I'm not so sure about pizza—" 

"We don't have to get the same thing,"  Jenna reminded her. 

"That's true. Hey, what do you think of the blouse I bought?"

"Looked good to me—I loved the color on you." 

"But the question is, will Brad Marcum like it?"

"Brad who?" 

"Marcum—you know, the captain of the basketball team—he's an eighth grader—moved here about a month ago?" 

Jenna shook her head. "I'm sorry—I don't remember."

"No prob—you've had other stuff to deal with—oooh—look there's Brad," Lisa pointed to a tall blond guy waiting in line at Wendy's. "Mind if I go over and see him? I'll only be a sec." 

"Sure—" Jenna saw the restroom. "I just have to go—I'll be right back out, okay?" 

"Okay—sure you'll be all right by yourself? I mean, your mom said—" 

"Lisa, I really have to go—I'll be fine." 

"As long as you're sure."

"I'm sure." 
 

SMK SMK SMK SMK 

Florescent lights always made you look so washed out. 

Jenna looked at herself in the mirror—so pale, she thought—she wished she had remembered to sneak out some blush or something. At least her scar was covered—you could only see it if you got up close. Her hair was growing longer—it was chin-length now.  It had been down to the middle of her back before—she pictured Gary chopping it off with scissors while she lay there unconscious—a shiver ran through Jenna's body. 

The sound of a toilet flushing startled her—she hadn't realized that anyone else was here. One of the stall doors opened and a blond girl stepped out—it was Terri.  She froze as she saw Jenna. Inside her chest Jenna could hear her heart pounding, blood rushing through her ears. 

Terri smiled. 

"Scarface."  She walked slowly forward, her steps, echoing--measured.  "You know, if I were you I'd never go out in public with that face—you might scare small children." 

"Terri, shut up."  Jenna's voice shook despite herself. 

"Make me," Terri moved closer. "There's just you and me here—no one to defend you—no one to get me into trouble—what are you going to do?"  

What could she do??  Where could she go??  Terri was blocking the exit, moving closer—Jenna wasn't exactly short but this girl was taller—he was going to be standing over her soon—

"Nowhere left to run, little girl."  Jenna's mouth felt suddenly dry in her mind she could see Gary—the gun in his hand—

'No!'

She wasn't going to think that way—this wasn't Gary—this wasn't someone who could really do her harm—this was Terri--Terri was actually younger by a few months—and she was a bully.  Just a bully. Jenna took in a deep breath. 

'Five—four—three—two—one—relax—relax—' she repeated that word as she breathed out slowly.  Terri stood beside her now.  Jenna still felt the fear but it didn't have her—she could control it—she would control it. 

"You know something, Scarface?"  Terri was so close that she could smell the bubblegum on her breath—Jenna could feel how the small of her back was pressed up against the sink. "I hope that when Gary Johnston does get out, I hope he comes for you—I hope he finds you—makes you pay for what you did to him. And all those people at school who think you're so great will have to change their minds." 

"You're jealous." 

Terri laughed. "I'm what?"  

Jenna took another deep breath before speaking again. "You're jealous," she repeated. "Aren't you, Terri? That's what this is all about, isn't it? Because you think I'm getting attention and you're not." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Terri said. "I'm not—"

"Yes, you are—and I think—if you knew what really happened to me, I don't think you'd be jealous," Jenna said.  "I don't like you, Terri, but what Gary did is not something I'd wish on anyone—even you." 

"He didn't do anything."  Terri said—but suddenly she looked less sure of herself—she actually backed away slightly. "I know—what I heard—"

Jenna straightened—now she was the one moving towards the other girl as she spoke. 

"You don't know anything," Jenna wasn't sure where this was coming from—but now that she had started she couldn't seem to stop. "Have you ever been scared, Terri?  I mean, really scared—where you try to scream, or talk—only nothing comes out?"

"You can't threaten me."  Terri's voice shook—she backed away. 

"I'm not trying to," Jenna said. "What I'm trying to say is that I've been there—I've been that scared—and I survived. So whatever you do, you're not going to frighten me—you don't scare me—not anymore. I'm leaving now—goodbye."

Terri stood motionless--stunned—-as Jenna took her purse and left the restroom. Once outside—she rested back against the wall momentarily—eyes closed—trying to regain control. 
 

"You all right, kid?"  Jenna opened her eyes to see a young man carrying a broom and pulling a cart—a janitor—his dark eyes were filled with concern. 

"Do you need me to get someone?"  the man asked  her. 

"No,"  Jenna said. "I'm fine—thank you, though."   She straightened, surprised to find that this time her legs weren't shaking—her voice was steady—she really was fine. 

"You sure?" 

She nodded and smiled. "I'm sure." The janitor returned her smile as he left her, pulling his cart along. 

Looking across at Wendy's Jenna could still see Lisa, one hand on her hip,  still talking to Brad what's-his-name.  The smell of pizza wafted over from Sbarro's—Jenna's stomach rumbled, reminding her that she was starved—walking over to the restaurant she got in line—grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza and a bottle of pink lemonade—she loved pink lemonade. Putting her purchases on the tray she went to the register. 

"Sure you don't want fries or chips?"  the guy behind the counter asked. 

"I'm sure—this is great." 

The guy grinned. "Glad pizza makes you so happy." 

Happy—Jenna's smile widened. "Yeah—-I guess it does." 

Jenna paid for her food and took her tray over to the nearby table. Part of her felt like she was on automatic pilot—trying to work out the feeling that was growing inside her. Not a bad feeling—a very good feeling—but it was different. Something had changed—but what? 

Musing, Jenna picked up the pizza, folding it the way that Dad always did with the big slices—taking a bite.   

A mother walked by, screaming toddler in tow. 

At a nearby table a group of teenage girls sat—heads bent together—sharing a private moment—probably gossiping. 

A girl and a guy strolled through the food court—the girl's hand tucked into the guy's back pocket—-she and Lisa had always thought that was gross—

Lisa—the sound of her friend's laughter rang out from across the room. Jenna almost laughed herself—she could feel happiness welling up inside of her—like an enormous weight had been taken off her shoulders. 

What was different? 

That was when Jenna realized. The world was exactly the same—what had changed was her. 

'I survived,'  she thought. 'I came through it all.'  People had been telling her that all along—she had started to feel like it could be true a couple of days ago—now she was sure. 

She had survived the kidnapping—-the nightmares, the flashbacks—Terri's bullying—-all of that and she was still here, still alive—it wouldn't beat her—no, more than that—she wouldn't let it beat her—not now, not ever. 

"Jenna?"  Lisa said.  She looked up at her friend standing there, tray from Wendy's in hand. 

"The manager wouldn't let me talk to Brad unless I ordered too."   Lisa sat down.  "She said I was holding up the line—puh-leese—like people are going to die if they have to wait a few minutes for their meal. You okay?" 

Jenna took another bite of her pizza. "Sure—why?" 

"I know this is going to sound strange, but you're smiling like you've just won the lottery,"  Lisa said. "Something happen while I was gone?" 

"You could say that, yeah." 

"Something good, from the look of you," Lisa said. "Oh god, don't look now, but it's the witch with a 'b'—how Terri's mom lets her wear those outfits I'll never know. Let's just hope she doesn't notice us—or notice you—oh no, she's looking this way."

"Is she really?" 

"Yeah—just keep your face down, okay? Maybe she won't come over here." 

Instead of hiding,  Jenna looked directly at Terri, giving her a smile and lifting her hand in a little wave.

"Jenna!"  Lisa sounded shocked. 

Terri's face flushed crimson—she looked away from them as she stormed out of the food court.

"Girl, I don't know what's going on with you," Lisa said. "But I hope that Terri doesn't make you pay for that later."   

"I'm not worried," Jenna told Lisa.  "There are tougher people than Terri." 

'And I should know,' she added silently.  

"Well, whatever you took, I want some too," Lisa dug into her bag—handing Jenna a card.  "Hey—-I got you this earlier when you weren't looking—I'm not much with the mush but I know that hearing is coming up so this is just a little thing—don't make it a big deal, okay?" 

Jenna stared at the card. 

'I Know You Can Do It', the card proclaimed in bright red letters.  Jenna thought back to the calendar in her room—where she'd been marking off the days until the thirteenth—-the date of the hearing—a feeling of dread in her gut as she'd marked off yet another day. 

It didn't seem like such a frightening event anymore. 

"Do you like it?"  Lisa asked.  "I tried to pick a card that you'd like." 

"I love it, Lisa—thank you." 

Her fingers traced the letters. She could do it, Jenna thought to herself. 

Now she knew that for sure.
 

TBC

*The usual disclaimers apply—thanks to Ermintrude for the title and for all of the help and support—hope you enjoy :) *

Some Justice--Part Nine

Arlington County Courthouse

Monday, April 2, 2009

4:45 PM

“How are you doing this afternoon, Jenna?”  Dr. Pfaff asked. 

“Pretty good,” Jenna took her usual seat, Dad sitting beside her. Mr. Welling was already seated across from them but he was looking down at the papers he held in his hand. Papers about her?  Jenna thought about asking whether she could look at them but hesitated—it was like thinking about Marcie Johnston.

Maybe she really didn’t want to know. 

“You look good,”  Dr. Pfaff said.  “Did school go well?”

“Yeah, I had a good day, and my classes are going pretty well.”  Jenna wasn’t sure what else she could tell him—there had been nothing about the day that had stood out—maybe it was her feelings—the day had just seemed better—brighter somehow.

Dr. Pfaff nodded approvingly. “What about that girl Terri—is she still giving you a hard time?”   

“No, not really,” Jenna said “At least not since Saturday.” 

“Saturday?” Dr. Pfaff and Dad spoke in unison—Jenna could feel Dad’s gaze on her.

“Tell me what happened on Saturday,” Dr. Pfaff said. 

“Okay, well Mom dropped me and Lisa off at the mall—to go shopping.”  She couldn’t say what she was shopping for—Dad’s birthday was supposed to be a surprise.

Dr. Pfaff raised his eyebrows. “Your mother dropped you off? That’s a pretty big step.” 

Jenna nodded. “Yeah, but she was still worried about it—she told us to be careful about a million times, not to get separated, things like that.”

“That’s understandable,” Dr. Pfaff said. “But still, she let you go. What happened at the mall?”

“Well—we were at the Food Court and Lisa saw this guy she likes, Brad somebody—he was standing in the line at Wendy’s and she wanted to go talk to him. And I needed to go to the restroom so we did split up—but it was only for a little bit.”

“Munchkin—I—”  Dad started to say.

“Lee,”  Dr. Pfaff said.  “What happened when you went to the restroom?” 

“I had finished—I was standing at the sink looking in the mirror—I heard the toilet flush and Terri came out of the bathroom. She saw me and just started saying stuff.” 

“By stuff what do you mean?”  Dr. Pfaff asked.

“Just that I shouldn’t go out in public with a face like mine—I told her to shut up—she said ‘make me’—and said that there was no one to stop her this time. My back was up against the sink and she was close—leaning over me.”  Jenna looked over at Dad—his jaw was clenched tightly, forming a visible knot. “And then she said that she hoped that Gary did get out—that he would make me pay for what I’d done.”  

“Jenna, why didn’t you tell someone about this?”  Dad asked her. “She has no right to threaten you that way.” 

“I didn’t tell anyone because I handled it myself,”  Jenna said.

“How did you handle it yourself?”  Dr. Pfaff asked her.

“I did my breathing—to stay calm, and then I told her that she was jealous—that she knew nothing because she hadn’t been there—she hadn’t been through what I went through and I didn’t think she’d be jealous if she had been through it. And I told her that she couldn’t scare me—she couldn’t bother me—not anymore. She just stood there and I walked out.”  Even as she spoke about it Jenna could feel a smile spreading across her face at the memory.

“That made you feel good—to do that.”  Dr. Pfaff said.

Jenna nodded.  “I felt good—it felt good to stand up to her.” 

Dad cleared his throat. “That was very brave, Jenna—especially with her standing over you like that.” 

“I just kept telling myself that I wasn’t in danger,”  Jenna said. “I mean, Terri’s not someone who’s really going to hurt me—she’s just a very jealous person and a bully.” 

“That’s very positive, Jenna.”  Dr. Pfaff paused for a few moments. “And that’s something we need to deal with –your fear of someone standing above you or leaning over you. I’ve told you several times—not everyone who does that intends to do you harm.” 

“I know you’ve told me that—it’s just when it happens—sometimes I just react.” 

“Yes, I know—and that’s because your reaction is automatic—you react without thinking. Now I know that I told you that Gary’s lawyer won’t be allowed to do that—”

The butterflies started again in Jenna’s stomach. “That’s what you said.”   

“Ideally we would hope that he would follow the rules,” Mr. Dutton said. “But Gary’s lawyer isn’t exactly known for following the rules.”

“So what can I do?”  Jenna asked.

“What we need to do is work on that fear—exposing you to it so that you can see that not everyone will harm you.”

“But Gary’s lawyer will—”

Dr. Pfaff shook his head. “Gary’s lawyer is many things, Jenna—but he’s not a bad person—at least—not in the sense of someone who would physically hurt you. If he stands over you nothing bad will happen—but the last thing we want is for you to panic or flashback during your testimony.” 

Jenna’s voice shook. “No, I don’t want to do that either.” 

“Exactly,” Dr. Pfaff told her. “So what I want you to do if someone does that—stands over you or leans over you—is just what you did with Terri. I want you to focus, breathe, and tell yourself to relax—that everything is okay. We’re going to practice with your father.  Lee?”

Dad stood. 

‘But I’m not ready,’ Jenna heard a creak as Dad rose from his chair.  ‘I’m not—’

But suddenly there he was—his shadow fell over her, blocking out the light—he put his hands on the arms of her chair on either side as he leaned over—Jenna had forgotten how large Dad was—it made her feel very small— trapped—her heart pounded wildly, she swallowed—she could feel herself on the verge of slipping—.

“Your breathing—concentrate—” Dr. Pfaff said. “Look up at him, Jenna—focus—you can do it.” 

She could do it—this wasn’t like Gary—this was her Dad—who talked to her, held her when she was scared, comforted her—Jenna drew in a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly—her heart slowed, breathing back to normal—she looked up at him and Dad smiled—Jenna smiled back. 

“I love you, munchkin,” he said.

“Love you too,” Jenna said. Dad stayed there a moment more before returning to his seat. 

“How do you feel?”  Dr. Pfaff asked her. “Do you feel nervous at all?”

“Not right now,” Jenna said. “I mean, I had a moment—but I know Dad—I know that I’m safe with him.” 

“That might be part of it,” Dr. Pfaff admitted.  “But the fact that you did have a ‘moment’ shows that you had an unconscious reaction—and then you were able to bring it back under conscious control.” 

Dr. Pfaff made sense, Jenna thought—but still— “Do you think I’ll be able to do that when the person is a stranger—someone I don’t know very well?” 

“Sure you can,” Dr. Pfaff told her. “You’re in control of your own reactions, Jenna—you just have to take that control.” 

“Okay.”

Mr. Welling cleared his throat, startling Jenna—he’d been so quiet that she’d almost forgotten he was here. 

“Are you ready to begin?”  he asked her.

With the questions, he meant. “I’m ready.”  Jenna replied.

“When we left off, Jenna—you had cried yourself to sleep, is that correct?” 

Again Jenna nodded. 

“No nods—you have to answer.” 

“Sorry,”  Jenna said. “That’s correct—I fell asleep.” 

“Did either Gary or Suzanne Johnston visit you during the night?” 

“No, they didn’t.” 

“What were they doing?” 

“I don’t know.”  

“Did you wake up at all during the night?” 

“Yes—I had a dream and that woke me up.” 

“A bad dream?” 

“No—jut a dream about when I was little—about being home—feeling safe.” 

Mr. Welling was silent for a moment—Jenna thought he would ask some more about her dream but he didn’t—maybe it wasn’t relevant. That was fine with her—the dream wasn’t something she wanted to share. 

“What happened when you woke up—did you try to escape?” 

“Not then, no—I just hoped I was home—that maybe everything had been a bad dream, but it wasn’t—and I hurt –my head and my neck—I just fell back asleep again.” 

“And you woke up the next morning?”

“Yes.” 

“What happened then? “ 

“I sat up –I felt sore all over—I heard Mr. and Mrs. Johnston downstairs.” 

“What were they doing?”  

“They were yelling at each other.” 

“You mean arguing?”  

“It was an argument, yes.”  

“Can you tell me what the argument was about?”  

“It was—” Jenna thought back. “Suzanne wanted to make me breakfast—and Gary said not to—he didn’t think I deserved it.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because that’s what he said—that I didn’t get breakfast because I didn’t eat my dinner.”

*~~*

“She doesn’t get any damn breakfast! Not after she didn’t eat her dinner…” 

 “You can talk about making that stupid kid breakfast but you can’t make something for me? Is that it, huh?”

“Gary, please don’t do this.”

*~~*

It was strange how she could still hear the voices in her head. Jenna shivered slightly—she felt her Dad’s hand covering hers. 

“And what happened next?” 

“He hit her.”  

“How do you know that? Did you see it?” 

“No—but I heard it—and when she came upstairs later she had a red mark on her face.” 

“She could have just as easily run into something, though—that’s possible.” 

“It’s possible, but I heard a hit.”  

“But you didn’t actually see it, did you?” 

Jenna’s voice sounded very small to her ears. “No, I didn’t.” 

“You’d been through a lot—you might have been so disoriented that you imagined it.” 

“I wasn’t disoriented—I hurt, but it wasn’t like I was out of it—and I heard a hit.” 

“That was good, Jenna,” Mr. Dutton said. “You stuck to your guns and stayed calm—a jury would find that very believable. Continue, Mr. Welling.” 

Mr. Welling nodded.  “Did you just stay in bed?” 

“No—I wanted to get up—get out of there—I went to the bathroom—and I looked in the mirror—and my face—it was—”

“What did your face look like?” 

Jenna swallowed. In her mind’s eye she could still remember—it—the shock of her reflection—seeing her face like that. “One side—the side where I was hit—it was swollen—the bruise was shaped like his—like Gary’s hand. My lip was split open and there was dried blood all over my chin—I got one of the washcloths and cleaned myself off.” 

“After that?’ 

“I decided to search the room.”

“Did you know what you were looking for?”

“Something—mainly I was trying to figure out where I was.” 

“And what did you find?” 

“Nothing much—some music CD’s, videos, and a black book with the pages ripped out.” 

“Did you know what the book was for?” 

At the time Jenna had thought it was a diary, but she couldn’t say that—she wasn’t supposed to speculate. “I don’t know—there was nothing in it—and then the door opened and I threw the book in a corner of the room.”

“Why did you do that?” 

“I was afraid it was Gary—I didn’t want to get in trouble again.” 

“Was it Gary?” 

“No, it was Suzanne—she had a glass of water—she said it was my breakfast—all I was allowed to have.” 

“I see—and is that when you noticed her cheek was red?”  

“Yes—she kept trying to cover it up.”

“Did you ask her about it?” 

“No, I wanted to find out where I was.” 

“That’s what you asked her?” 

“I asked her if I could go to Ballston Common—I figured that if she knew what I was talking about that I couldn’t be too far from home.” 

“How did she reply?” 

“She said that my father didn’t like me going there—so I knew I was close to Arlington.”

“What did you do after that?” 

“Well Suzanne went downstairs to get some stuff—to clean up the mess from the tray last night—she left the door open.” 

“Did you try to escape?” 

“I went to the stairs, but then I heard Gary’s voice—telling Suzanne that they had company coming over.”  At those words Dad’s hand tightened over Jenna’s. She looked at him but couldn’t read his expression. 

Had she said something to upset him?  Jenna didn’t think she had—Dad’s gaze met her own and he smiled.

Maybe she’d imagined things.

“So you didn’t want to attempt an escape with Gary downstairs.” Mr. Welling said.

“No—I didn’t want to be hurt again—but I did want to escape later—and I saw a napkin on the floor and got an idea.” 

“Which idea was that?”

“To stuff the napkin in the lock so the door wouldn’t lock—I saw that in a movie once.” 

“That’s what you did?” 

“Yes.” 

Mr. Welling rose from the chair—he began to pace back and forth in front of her. What was he doing?  Jenna found her eyes drawn to him as he moved, glancing at her. Her hands tightened on the armrests.

“What did you do next?” he asked her.

“I grabbed a fork and hid it under the mattress.” 

“Why a fork?” 

She wished that he would just sit still—Jenna’s heart pounded a little faster—the butterflies were doing somersaults and backflips. “In case I needed it—for later.” 

“Were you intending to use it as a weapon—to hurt someone?” 

“Well I was—”

“The same way you were going to use the CD Player? You were going to commit assault and battery?” 

“I didn’t really want to—”

Without warning Mr. Welling leaned over her.  “Look at me, Jenna—answer me. Is that what you were going to do?”

She had to stay calm—Mr. Welling wouldn’t hurt her—he was here to help—that’s what he was doing now—Dad gave her hand another squeeze. 

‘I can do this,’ Jenna thought. Breathing slowly and evenly she forced her gaze up to meet Mr. Welling’s.

“I had been kidnapped, drugged—he hit me—I felt like I had to defend myself.” 

“Yes or no—you were intending to hurt someone.” 

Jenna’s voice still trembled slightly, but she managed to hold it together. It was just like facing Terri—the fear was still there, but it didn’t have her—it wasn’t taking her over. “It’s not a yes or no answer—I was only going to hurt someone if they tried to hurt me first.” 

“Very good answer, Jenna,”  Mr. Dutton interjected. 

Mr. Welling stepped back, sitting down in his chair. 

“What happened after that?”  he asked her.

“Suzanne came in after I hid the fork—I drank the water—it hurt my lip though—the cold,” Jenna said. “After Suzanne left I checked the door to make sure it would open.”

‘And did it open?” 

“Yes. But I felt strange—very dizzy—I had to lie down.” 

“Then after that?” 

“I passed out on the bed—I think the water was drugged.” 

“Did you taste anything in the water?”

“I’m not—” Jenna tried to think back. Had she noticed?  She couldn’t think. “I can’t remember,”  she admitted finally. “I was so thirsty that I gulped it down without really thinking.” 

“So, would you say that it’s possible that you weren’t drugged at all—that you were just very tired?” 

“No, I don’t think so—it was so sudden—I had felt fine a minute ago.” 

“Is that the only reason you think you were drugged?” 

“No, that’s not the only reason—when I woke up later and I looked at the glass—there was all this white stuff at the bottom.” 

 “What did it look like?”

 “Like some kind of powder.” 

Mr. Dutton looked at his watch. “I think we’ll end this here for now—this was a very productive session.”

4247 Maplewood Dr.

8:40 PM

Lee stood in the doorway—for a few moments he just watched her—she was lying on her stomach—notebook spread out in front of her—pencil in hand—her face a mask of concentration—the expression reminded Lee of himself when he was thinking out a problem. 

Jenna looked up and smiled. “Hey Dad.” 

“Hey yourself.” He came into the room, sitting beside her on the bed. “You still doing homework?” 

Jenna sighed, rubbing her head. “Word problems—usually I like math—well, some math—but these—”

“Yeah, munchkin—I remember word problems too. Is it one of those about the trains leaving the station?” 

“You got it—they put them in these books just to be mean—I’ve tried and I can’t seem to get it.” 

“Let me see.”  Lee took the book. “I see—you have to find out the distance—that’s rate multiplied by the time.” 

“I know that, but how do I find out what the time is?”

“You divide the distance—that’s 260 miles by 70 miles per hour—and then you do the same for the other train.” 

“What you do to one side, you do to the other side—that’s what Mr. Soros says.”

“That’s right.”  

“Okay—and then—” her pencil moved over the paper—she chewed her lip. “Oh—I get it now.”

He ruffled her hair. “I knew you could. Going to go to bed soon?”

“In a minute—this is the last problem,” Jenna said. “Hey, was there something you wanted?” 

“Just to say that I was very proud of you—you handled yourself really well today.” 

Jenna’s smile lit up her entire face. “You mean it?” 

 “I mean it—things got tough in there but you stayed calm and you got through it. “

“Thanks—hey—my testimony didn’t upset you at all, did it?”

“Why would you think you upset me?” 

“It was just one part—when I talked about Gary having company over—and about the water—you squeezed my hand—and the look on your face—you looked kind of upset, that’s all.” 

Lee hesitated.  He couldn’t tell her—couldn’t tell her that he and Amanda had been the “company” that Gary had been expecting—that he had given Jenna chloral hydrate so her parents wouldn’t discover her. The thought of that bastard talking to them about his van and all the while Jenna had been lying upstairs, drugged—it still got to him.

“Dad?”  Jenna was looking at him. Lee drew in a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s just hard for me sometimes,” he told her. “Hearing what you went through—part of me still wishes I could’ve been there to stop it—to stop Gary from hurting you the way he did. ”  he remembered how Gary’s face had turned purple when he’d grabbed his collar, twisting tight—

*~~*

“Can’t breathe—” the man had gasped.

“If it were up to me, Mr. Johnston—you’d never breathe again.” 

*~~*

Part of Lee still wished that he could make good on that promise.

“You stopped Gary from killing me,” his daughter’s voice brought him back to the present.  “That’s the most important thing.”  Her expression clouded slightly. “I certainly couldn’t have stopped him at that point.”   

“No, you couldn’t,” Lee rubbed her shoulder. “But listen to me—you didn’t give up—you put up a good fight—and when you tell the court what he did you’ll have the power to stop him once and for all—think about that.”  

Another smile—a small smile. “That does sound good. And you’ll be there with me, right? During the hearing?” 

“You couldn’t keep me away.” 

“What about during the trial?”

The trial—Mr. Dutton had told him that Jenna probably would have to testify in open court—and if Lee’s own testimony was required he wouldn’t be able to be there—but nothing was decided as of yet. “We’ll think about the trial when we come to it, munchkin—that’s quite a few months away. All right?”

“All right,”  Jenna yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Have you done your exercise yet?”  Lee asked her.

“Right before I sleep—now that I’m finished with the math.”  Rising to her knees Jenna put her arms around him. “Night Dad—I love you.” 

Lee hugged her, kissing the top of her head. “Love you too, munchkin.” 

TBC

Some Justice--Part Ten 

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Tuesday, April 3, 2001 

8:10 AM 

“What do you mean, you’re not coming in today?”  Lee asked. “When did this happen?”

“Last night.”  Her back to him, Amanda stacked the dishes neatly beside the sink while she filled the sink with warm soapy water. “Don’t worry—I cleared it with Francine.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t clear it with me.” When she didn’t reply, Lee approached from behind, wrapping his arms around his wife’s slender waist. “Talk, Mrs. Stetson,” he murmured, his lips against the soft skin of her neck. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“Nothing.” 

“A-man-da—come on—”

“Lee, the truth is I just realized that I had a lot to do around here and I wanted to take care of it before it really started to pile up.”

Lee turned her so that she was facing him. “And that’s all? Really” 

“That’s all it is.” 

Amanda’s face practically radiated innocence—yet somehow Lee didn’t believe a word she was saying. Something niggled on the edges of his memory—something about today—only right now he couldn’t think of what it was. 

“Amanda, I found this tablecloth in the linen closet,” Dotty came into the room. “I thought maybe we could use it for—oh, hello Lee. I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“What were you planning on doing with the tablecloth?”  Lee asked. 

“Ahh—well,” Dotty began, clearly flustered. 

Amanda jumped in. “She was just helping me organize the linen closet—weren’t you, Mother?” 

“Yes,” Dotty nodded. “That’s exactly it—so—I’ll just go and see what else I can organize, shall I?” She left the room and Lee looked back down at Amanda.

“Something’s going on.” 

Amanda smiled. “I don’t know what makes you think that, Stetson.” 

He bent towards her. “I can make you talk, you know,” his lips pressed against her own in a brief but passionate kiss—then moved to nuzzle her neck. “I have ways—”

“Dad, I’m ready to go,” Jenna’s voice called out. 

Amanda smiled. “You might have ways—but you don’t have the time.” 

Lee pulled her closer—her body pressed against his. “Rest assured—I will figure it out.” 

Amanda’s breath quickened slightly, a pink flush rising in her cheeks. “Later.” 

“Definitely, Mrs. Stetson.” 

“Dad, if we don’t go, I’ll be late.”  Jenna came into the kitchen, her backpack over one shoulder.  “I don’t want to get detention or anything.”

“We’re leaving now, munchkin,” Lee said as he and Amanda broke their embrace.  “Don’t worry—we’ll get there just fine.” 

“I really wish I didn’t have to go today at all,” Jenna said.  “I’d rather be here with—”

“Sweetheart,” Amanda interrupted. “You’ll be just fine—there’s plenty of time after school, remember?” 

Jenna’s face cleared. “Oh—yeah, that’s true. Plenty of time after.” 

‘Time for what?’  Lee wondered. He turned to his daughter. “Everything’s okay at school, isn’t it?” 

Jenna nodded. “It’s fine—I just—I thought maybe Mom needed some help today, that’s all—but she doesn’t, so she’s fine.  Dad, we really do need to go.”

What on earth was this?  Lee raked his hand back through his hair. Something was up—and they were all in on it—somehow.

“You better go,” Amanda smiled sweetly—Lee smiled back.

“I’ll see you later, Mrs. Stetson.” 

Amanda’s smile widened. “Count on it.” 

SMK SMK SMK  SMK

2:00 PM 

“So Lee really has no idea?”  Jamie asked. 

“No,” Amanda poured the cake mix into a bowl, adding oil, water and two eggs—using a wooden spoon she began to beat the mixture. “At least I don’t think so—though it might hit him later on.”  

“That’s what I’m thinking,”   Phillip said. “Remember that one time I snuck out to go to that party?  He was waiting for me when I came home—that guy has eyes in the back of his head.”

“True,” Jamie said. “We got tons of stuff past Dad that we never got past Lee.” 

Amanda was about to ask Jamie what stuff when Dotty came into the kitchen, paper plates in hand.

“I found these in the pantry—” she put the plates on the counter. “I thought we could use them for the cake.”

“That’s a good idea, Mother,” Amanda said.

“Phillip, can you help me get the streamers from the top shelf of the garage?”  Dotty asked as she came into the kitchen. “I can’t reach and I’d hate to climb on a stool.” 

“Sure, Grandma.”  Phillip and Dotty went out the back door. Amanda turned around just in time to grab Jamie’s hand as he reached for the cake batter.

“Hey buster, Lee’s not the only one with eyes in the back of his head,” she reminded him. “You can lick the batter after I put the cake in the oven.” 

Jamie grinned. “Okay, Mom.” 

“How’s your job going?”  Amanda asked. “You haven’t said.” 

“Still freelancing,” Jamie replied. “But the Richmond Times-Dispatch has made me an offer for a permanent photojournalist position. Apparently they were really impressed with my work on that bridge collapse last year” 

“Sweetheart, that’s wonderful,” Amanda said. “Do you think you’ll take it?”

“Yeah, I think so—it’s a regular salary and a great benefits package,” Jamie said. “By the way, how’s Jenna doing? I know she was having a rough time a little while back.” 

“It was a rough time, yes—but she’s doing better.” Amanda sprayed the cooking pan with Pam before pouring the batter into the pan, evening it out with the back of a spoon. “I mean, she’s not one-hundred percent, but she’s healing—she’s better than she was.” 

“It must have been terrifying for her.” 

“Yeah—yeah it was.” Amanda said softly. Thinking about Gary standing over Jenna—hurting her, getting enjoyment out of causing her child pain—a chill passed through her body.  Quickly she handed the bowl and the spoon to Jamie.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jamie used the spoon to scrape the sides of the bowl, eating the leftover batter as he spoke. “Jenna’s testifying against him at the hearing, isn’t she?” 

“Yes—ten days from now. She’s going to testify by CCTV—that way she doesn’t actually have to be in the courtroom.” 

“Is it going to be the same for the actual trial?”  Jamie asked.

‘The trial.’ Amanda sighed. “Nothing’s decided yet, Jamie—we’ve filed a motion and we’re waiting for the judge to rule—but it looks like she’ll probably have to testify in open court—they only allow for alternative forms of testimony if  the trauma was especially severe—apparently Jenna’s case doesn’t qualify.” 

Jamie’s expression darkened. “You mean because she wasn’t—”

Amanda nodded. “That’s what I mean.”  

“Does Jenna know?” 

“No—and we’re not going to tell her just yet. The trial’s probably not going to be until late summer—I hope by that time she’ll be strong enough to face it.” 

“I hope so too,” Jamie said.  “Mom—there was something else—Phillip and I were talking about it on the way over here and we think—”

“Think what?” 

Phillip came in through the back door followed by Dotty, streamers in hand. “What wormbrain’s trying to say is that we’d like to be there for the hearing—just to offer our support.”  

“I was getting to that,” Jamie told his brother. “I know the courtroom’s closed to the press, but family’s allowed—right?”

“Oh fellas—” Amanda felt tears on her face—happy tears. She hugged each of them. “Of course you’re allowed.” 

“Jenna will really appreciate it,” Dotty added.

SMK SMK SMK SMK 

Q-Bureau

2:30 PM

Sunlight shone in through the window, warming his back as Lee’s fingers moved over the keyboard—putting the finishing touches on his expense report. The only sound in the room besides the clicking sound that the keys made was the quiet but steady tic-toc of the walnut-cased clock on Amanda’s desk—Billy had picked it up in an antique shop in London and given it to them for their fifth anniversary. 

The characters on the computer started to blur together—all these numbers—Lee leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his neck—letting out an audible sigh. It was quiet in here—much too quiet. Without Amanda—moving around the office—her stream of chatter –she could bring life to the place with her mere presence. And without her…

He looked at the clock. 2:35—five minutes later than when he last checked—the damn thing almost seemed to be mocking him with its persistent slowness.  He blew out his breath in a whoosh.

Two hours and twenty-five minutes to go. Normally he’d have to pick up Jenna from school in hour, but Amanda had offered to pick her up today—in fact she’d insisted. 

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that, sweetheart—I’ll pick her up. You just come straight home after work.” 

Amanda’s tone had been completely innocent-sounding but Lee still had that feeling—he couldn’t quite seem to shake it. 

Something was going on—but what?  Maybe something to do with today’s date? Rising from his chair he walked over to his wife’s desk.  She kept a meticulous calendar.  And April the third—

The only thing on the calendar was a sketch of a scarecrow. Lee ran both hands through his hair.

The door opened—Francine entered—a stack of files in her hand.

“Just taking these into the vault to be stored,” she explained. “How’s the expense report coming?” 

“You’ll have it by the end of the day, Francine.” 

“That’s fine.” Francine unlocked and opened the vault. “I’ll just be a minute, Scarecrow.” 

“Oh—and Francine,” She turned to look at him—Lee had to ask the question. “Is there anything –you know—special—going on today?” 

Francine’s eyes widened. “Special? Special how, exactly?” 

“You know.” 

Francine paused. “Well as far as I know you have no major cases at the moment—we’re trying to keep your schedules clear for the upcoming hearing. So if you’ll just excuse me—”

“Francine—” Lee felt as though he’d entered the twilight zone—everyone was weird today. “Look, I don’t mean cases, all right? I mean in general.” 

“In general?” 

“Something is going on.”  

Francine just shook her head—but she was smiling—enjoying this, Lee realized. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Lee. The only thing I have coming up is a budget meeting at three—so again, if you’ll excuse me—”

The door to the vault opened and shut—Lee stared in frustration at the closed door.

One way or another—he was going to find out what was going on.

SMK SMK SMK SMK  

4247 Maplewood Dr.

5:30 PM

Lee unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Hello?”  He called out, expecting to hear his wife or his daughter’s voice. “Amanda—munchkin—I’m home.” 

“Amanda?” his voice echoed in the empty room. The dark empty room—the whole place was dark, he realized—as well as silent. This wasn’t normal—not normal at all. What was going on? Where was everybody?   The niggling feeling that Lee had had all day strengthened.

‘Something’s definitely going on here.’  Question was—what kind of something?

A muffled-sounding thump—coming from the dining room—the hairs on the back of Lee’s neck stood on end—he reached inside his coat to get his weapon when he heard it—a very familiar giggle—coming from the kitchen.

“Shush,” a voice whispered. But whose voice? 

Time to find out what this was all about.

“Okay.”  Lee strode into the dining room, flipping the light switch. “Just what in the world is—”

“Happy Birthday!” 

Amanda, Dotty, Phillip, Jamie, Jenna—Billy, Jeannie and Francine—for a moment all Lee could do was stare.  His birthday—that’s what it was—with all the stuff going on with Jenna and the upcoming court date it had slipped his mind. Lee took in the table, piled high with presents, food—cake—they had arranged all this—a smile spread across his face.

“So, this is what you were doing,” he said to Amanda, who walked over.

Amanda wrapped her arms around him. “This is what I was doing.”  .

“You know, I knew there was something,” Lee said. “I just wasn’t sure what.”

“Well you’ve had other things on your mind,” Amanda told him. “I wanted to make this a special occasion.” 

“Believe me—you did.” He kissed her—a brief kiss—but with the promise of more to come later, when they were alone.

“Happy Birthday, Dad.” Jenna ran over. “Are you surprised?” 

He hugged his daughter. “I’m very surprised munchkin—thank you—this is great.”

“Do you want to open your presents?”  Jenna asked him.

“In a little while, sweetheart,” Amanda said. “Food and cake first, all right?”

SMK SMK SMK SMK 

6:30 PM 

The dining room lights were off once more—the only glow came from the candles on the cake that Amanda carried into the room. Everyone started to sing.

“Happy Birthday to you,”

“Happy Birthday to you”

“Happy Birthday dear Lee— Dad,” The ‘dad’ came from Jenna, who stood nearby.

“Happy birthday to you.”

Amanda sat the cake down in front of Lee, who sat at the head of the table.

“Wow—how many candles did you put on that cake anyway, wormbrain?”  Phillip asked Jamie. “We don’t want to have to call out the fire department in the middle of the party.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Whatever—you were the one who took forever because you wanted to find some trick candles—and there weren’t any.” 

“Fellas—” Amanda said. 

“That was Jenna’s idea, actually.”  Phillip tousled his sister’s hair. 

“Oh—that is so not true.”  Jenna protested—but she was grinning. It made Lee feel good to see her this way. 

“Blow out your candles, Lee—make a wish,” Francine told him. 

Lee looked around at his family and friends—all together—all happy—he hoped they could always be this way.  Closing his eyes briefly he made his wish before blowing out all the candles while everyone applauded. 

“Jenna—I just need you to pass the pieces of cake around.” Amanda said. “Your father first, of course.”

“Okay.”  Amanda cut the cake into small squares while Jenna passed the paper plates around.  Lee took a bite of his cake. 

“Amanda, this is great,” He said. 

“Chocolate,” Francine took a big bite. “Oh this is great—it’s even got chocolate chips—Amanda, you have got to give me the recipe for this.”

“Present time,” Jamie announced.  Lee put his cake to the side as his stepson handed him a package.

A Civil War book from Billy and Jeannie, a shirt from Phillip, a new digital camera from Jamie—

“You damaged your other one, right?”  Jamie asked.  Lee nodded—he had damaged it on a mission—though that wasn’t something he could divulge with his daughter present.

From his mother-in-law came a cowboy hat and a nice pair of leather cowboy boots.

“Trust me, you’ll need those someday,” Dotty said.  Lee looked questioningly at his wife but she just smiled and gave a little shrug.

Francine gave him a digital watch—and then Jenna handed him a red gift bag. 

“This one’s from me, Dad.” she said.   “Open the card first.”

“Okay.” Lee pulled the blue envelope from the bag and opened it.

The front of the card showed a girl wearing a backpack and read ‘Dad, you always pointed me in the right direction.’   He opened the card and nearly laughed out loud.  ‘But I still have no idea of which way is north or south or those other two.’  Underneath that Jenna had written in neat round purple gel script ‘Happy Birthday Dad, and Thank You for Everything!—Love, Jenna S.’

“Do you like the card?”  Jenna asked.  “I thought it was funny.” 

“It’s a wonderful card, munchkin—let’s see what else is in here.”  Lee pulled out a calendar of classic cars—the ‘Vette was there.  And something else—Lee pulled out a small box and opened it—staring down at the cufflinks—each engraved with a tiny scarecrow. He’d almost laughed aloud a moment ago, now his throat felt tight—for a minute or two he didn’t seem to be able to speak. 

“I hope you like those,” Jenna’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I saw them in the store and I thought they looked right—you’re always losing your other ones—I hope they’re okay.” 

Lee could see the anxiety in his daughter’s face.  “Come here,” he told her. He pulled Jenna close—kissing the top of her forehead. “Thank you, munchkin—they’re perfect—I love them.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

9:00 PM 

“Jenna’s sound asleep,” Amanda said as she entered their bedroom. “It’s nice to see her so relaxed—these practice sessions are doing her a lot of good.” 

“Yes they are,” Lee agreed.  

Amanda sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing the black nightgown with the spaghetti straps and the low-cut back—Lee could feel his pulse start to quicken just from looking at her—fourteen years of marriage and she still affected him this way.  He could picture his hands on her skin, sliding the straps down, skimming across her bare shoulders as he pulled the gown down, sliding it from her body and lowering her to the bed—

“How many more sessions are there?”  

“What—” Lee pulled his mind from his erotic fantasies and focused on what his wife was asking him. “There’s one more session—Pfaff thinks that’s all that’s needed—she’s really making a lot of progress.” 

“That’s great. I’m glad that Phillip and Jamie are going to be at the hearing—that will really mean a lot to Jenna.” 

“I agree—the more support she gets the better. I think she’ll handle the hearing just fine, Amanda—though the trial itself still worries me a little.”  

Her hand slipped inside his, squeezing gently.  “We have plenty of time to handle this, Lee—to prepare her—and we’ll do it—together, right?” 

“Together.”  Lee agreed. “And that reminds me, Amanda—I still haven’t gotten my present from you.” 

“True—” Amanda pulled her nightstand drawer open and retrieved a small envelope. “Here it is—I wanted to wait until we were alone.” 

Opening the envelope Lee pulled out a card—on the front was a heart—the inside of the card had nothing printed—but Amanda had written inside ‘With love for my husband, as always—Your Amanda.’  Nestled inside the card was a ticket—Lee pulled it out—reading the words aloud.

“One free week for two at River’s Bend Guest Ranch—Shenandoah Valley, Virginia.”  . Suddenly the boots and cowboy hat from his mother-in-law made perfect sense.  

“It’s good for one year,” Amanda said.  “So we’ll have plenty of time to decide when we want to go.” 

“It’s wonderful, Mrs. Stetson.”  Lee pulled his wife close, skimming his hands down her bare back as he spoke. “But you know—you could’ve given this to me earlier.” 

“Well I could’ve,” Amanda replied. “If that had been the entire present.”  

Lee raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?  What’s the rest of the present?”

“This.”  Amanda’s soft lips met his own in a deep and satisfying kiss—Lee moaned deep in his throat as he pulled her even closer—feeling her own touch against his skin—the kiss breaking off  when the need for oxygen became urgent.

“Wow—” he finally managed to say. 

“Worth waiting for?” 

“Definitely—and I want more.”

Amanda smiled. “Happy birthday, Mr. Stetson.”   Their lips met again as Lee lowered his wife onto the bed. 

TBC

Note: While June 17 and May 12 are both frequently used for Lee’s birthdate, I have decided to use April 3, 1950—astrologically I think it fits.  Thanks to Ermintrude for letting me use the date :)

Some Justice—Part Eleven

4247 Maplewood Dr 

Friday, April 6, 2001 

6:30 AM 

“What is your answer, Miss Stetson?”  The lawyer intoned.  His voice seemed to fill the room, his eyes burning deep into hers.

“I—” Sweat beaded on Jenna’s forehead— it itched as it ran down her cheeks. She wiped ineffectually at her face with an equally sweaty hand. In the back of the courtroom someone coughed—there was the sound of shuffling feet— rustling papers. 

“Everyone’s waiting for your answer, Miss Stetson.”  The voice brought her out of her reverie.  Jenna stared up at the man, trying to think of the answer—of anything that she could say if she could only remember how to speak.  Her lips felt all gummy—stuck together—inside her mouth her tongue was thick and heavy—she couldn’t move it.

“I—” Jenna managed again.  A sudden burst of laughter filled the courtroom. She looked down at her lap, unable to say any more. Jenna’s cheeks burned, she willed the tears not to fall even as they pooled in her eyes and spilled over.

“Look up, Miss Stetson—everyone’s waiting for your answer.” 

Jenna looked up—everything was a blur at first---as she rubbed the tears from her eyes with a damp fist she saw that the lawyer was right—everyone was waiting. Waiting for her. Mom and Dad, Grandma, Philip, Jamie—Billy and Francine---

And him.

Gary Johnston stood there—his blue eyes fixed on her—and despite the heat of the room Jenna began to shiver.  Her heart beat furiously against her ribcage—there was a creak as Gary rose from his chair and walked towards her—

‘Help me!’  Jenna wanted to say those words but she still couldn’t speak—and now she didn’t seem to be able to move either. She stared at her family and friends, pleading silently but they just sat there like statues—expressionless as Gary’s shadow loomed over her, his hand—

Jenna sat up, hands clutching the sheets tightly—the sheets. Her sheets. Beside her lay the Scarecrow doll—looking up at Jenna with black button eyes and a painted smile that seemed to be telling her that everything was okay—it had only been a dream. Jenna’s hands let go of the damp sheets and she picked up the doll, holding his soft stuffed body tightly against her own—her heartbeat slowed as she concentrated on her breathing—the rise and fall of her chest—willing herself to relax.

‘Only a dream’

But the feelings were still there—and in her mind’s eye Jenna could still see Gary, getting closer and closer—that smile on his face—his cold eyes.  A shudder passed through her body. Jenna clutched the doll so tightly that her chest hurt.  

What time—it wasn’t dark anymore—dim light filtered through her curtains, filling the room. Jenna looked at the clock on her nightstand. Six-thirty.  Usually she’d sleep for another hour, but after all that there was no way she was ever going to get back to sleep.  Putting the doll down Jenna slid out of her bed, slid her feet into her slippers and padded downstairs. 

The familiar aroma of coffee wafted in from the kitchen, filling Jenna with relief—thank goodness someone else was up.  

“Good Morning, sweetheart.”  Grandma sat at the kitchen counter, glasses on and pen in hand—the crossword puzzle and a cup of coffee in front of her. “Can I get you anything?” 

Jenna suddenly realized how dry her mouth was.  “No, that’s okay—I’ll just get some juice.”  She opened the fridge, pulling out the orange plastic bottle and unscrewing the lid, lifting it. 

“From a glass, Jenna—not from the bottle.”  

“Sorry.”   Hastily Jenna grabbed a juice glass and poured some. Her hands shook slightly as she did—tiny drops of orange juice spilling over—she grabbed a napkin and wiped off the counter, taking a sip of the sweet liquid.  

“You’re up awfully early. Is everything all right?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Jenna sat beside Grandma. “I just decided to get up early—that’s all.” 

“Right,” Grandma put down the puzzle and looked at her. “Does that explain why you’re as white as a sheet?” 

“Grandma—”

“I know you, remember?  You never get up before your alarm. Tell me what happened, sweetheart. Was it another bad dream?”

Jenna nodded, taking another sip of her juice.

“What was it about?” 

Jenna hesitated. “I don’t want to say,” she managed finally. “It was silly.” 

“Why don’t you tell me and I’ll tell you whether it’s silly or not.”

“Okay,” Jenna said.  “It was about the courtroom—I was sitting in there—the lawyer was questioning me and I couldn’t say anything—I couldn’t even move—and then Gary got up and came over—everyone was there but no one stopped him—and he was about to—” she swallowed, not wanting to think about what he’d been about to do.  “That’s when I woke up.” 

Grandma was silent for a moment. “Jenna, in the first place you’re going to be testifying by CCTV—you won’t even be inside the courtroom. And in the second place, if Gary even moved towards you your father would make sure that he never moved again.” 

“That’s why it was a silly dream,” Jenna said. “It had nothing to do with reality. I thought that I was past this—that I was strong enough to do this, or at least that’s the way I felt before—before the dream. But maybe I was wrong, you know? Maybe I’m not ready.” 

“There was nothing silly about the dream,” Grandma took Jenna’s hand.  “It’s just jitters—you know, like dreaming that you’re standing in front of your class in your underwear—sort of like stage fright.” 

“Stage fright? You’re sure?” 

“Of course—and everyone gets it. You know, I can remember how nervous your mother used to get before a play. Once I heard her reciting lines in her sleep.” 

That made sense—it made Jenna feel a little better to know that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.  “But what can I do about it?”  

“Just breathe—try to focus, you’ve been practicing a lot so that’s good—that means you’ll be prepared.”   Grandma said.  “Just remember that all you have to do is tell the truth—and you know that better than anyone, right?” 

“Right.”  Jenna replied. “Is there anything else, though?” 

“Well—they sometimes tell people to imagine the audience in their underwear—”

“Grandma! I could never—” 

“You know, that’s the same reaction your mother had, but according to many experts it’s a proven technique.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think I could do that—” the more Jenna thought about it—a whole courtroom filled with people in their underwear—Mr. Welling—Mr. Dutton— even Gary’s lawyer—a slight giggle escaped her lips. The bad feeling that she’d had since waking up from the dream began to lessen “But actually that would be kind of funny.” 

“Well, there you are you see—laughter is a very positive thing.”  Grandma gave Jenna’s hand a squeeze as she stood.  “How about if I make you some pancakes—I can even do the smiley face ones I did when you were little.” 

The sun was completely up now, filling the room with light—it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.  Jenna smiled.

“Smiley face pancakes would be great.” 

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Kenmore Middle School 

10:10 AM

“The essay can be on any subject you like,” Ms. Talbot told the class. “The only rules are that it must be typed, double-spaced and at least 1000 words. Now are there any questions?”  Terri raised her hand. “Yes, Terri—what would you like to know?” 

“What subject would you like us to write about?”  Terri asked. 

“I told you,” Ms. Talbot  replied. “Any subject you like is just fine with me.” 

“Okay,” Terri said. “But what subject exactly?”

The teacher gave a small sigh.  “That would be up to you, Terri.” 

“Told you she had trouble understanding English,” Lisa muttered to Jenna, who had to put both hands over her mouth to stop the giggles from erupting.

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Lisa?”  Ms. Talbot asked sharply.

“No ma’am, I’m fine,” Lisa said. 

“I’m glad to hear it.”  Ms. Talbot walked over to the blackboard—the chalk squeaked slightly as she wrote across the board. “Your assignment is due next Friday, April the thirteenth—except for Jenna, who will be absent that day.  Jenna, you can turn yours in on the following Monday—the sixteenth. Will that be all right?” 

The teacher looked directly at her as she spoke—everyone turned to look at her. Jenna’s cheeks felt as warm as they had in her dream this morning.

“Yes, that’s all right.”  Jenna said.

Terri raised her hand again. “Why does Jenna get special treatment?  If she doesn’t turn it in on time shouldn’t she get a zero?” 

“There are circumstances, Terri,” Ms. Talbot replied. “That’s all you need to know.”

Circumstances.  Jenna stared hard at her hands clasped on the desk. What she wouldn’t give for a hole to open underneath her and swallow her up—take her away—

“What circumstances, exactly?” Terri asked. “I think we all deserve to know the reasons why.” 

“Well personally, I think that’s between Jenna and the school, Terri—I’m not saying any more.”  Ms. Talbot said. “Now if that’s settled, are there any more questions before you go on to your third period?” 

“No, it’s not settled,” Terri’s voice grew louder, filling the room. “I don’t think it’s fair, either—my Mom has friends on the school board—she’ll talk to them about this—”

“Dang,” Lisa whispered. “That girl does not know when to shut up.” 

“You can do that,” Ms. Talbot told Terri.  “But maybe you’d rather explain it to the Assistant Principal in after-school detention? From what I understand it wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“No, it wouldn’t,” a boy near the back of the back of the class spoke up. Someone giggled. Terri turned her head to look at Jenna—her blue eyes shooting daggers. Jenna glared right back. 

Ms. Talbot clapped her hands. “Class, that’s enough disruption—I mean it.” 

At that moment the classroom door opened. A tall girl with dark hair entered, handing Ms. Talbot a piece of paper. Ms. Talbot unfolded the paper and then looked up at Jenna. 

‘Please let her be looking at someone else, don’t let it be about me.’  Ms. Talbot seemed to open her mouth in slow motion—

“Jenna.”   Her heart dropped as the teacher said her name. “You’re needed in the Guidance Office—your parents are already there.” 

Her parents—what could be going on now?

“Don’t worry,” Lisa told her as Jenna gathered her stuff, rising from the desk. “I’ll save a seat for you in third period, okay?”  Jenna smiled at her friend.  Terri said nothing, but the smug look on her face spoke volumes. Jenna tried not to look at anybody else as she left the classroom and headed down the hall.

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“I don’t understand what the problem is.”  As Jenna approached the Guidance Office Door she could hear her father’s raised voice.  “You know what’s been going on here—it’s not like we haven’t kept you informed. So, why is this happening now, huh?”

“Mr. Stetson, listen to me.” Mrs. Brook’s voice was slightly lower—Jenna pressed her ear up against the door to listen.  “Given Jenna’s circumstances, we want this to work out just like you do. But the school district has certain regulations—” 

There it was. Did everything with her have to be a special circumstance?  A passing hall monitor gave Jenna a curious glance—she knew couldn’t keep eavesdropping in the doorway. Taking a deep breath Jenna pushed open the door. 

“There you are, Jenna—take a seat.”  Mrs. Brooks smiled at her. Jenna tried to smile back but wasn’t sure if she succeeded.

“Come here, sweetheart.”   Jenna sat down beside her mother—who put an arm around her, pulling her close. Part of Jenna felt slightly embarrassed—she was probably too old for this— but at the same time, her mother’s nearness was comforting.

“You’re probably wondering why you were called here,” Mrs. Brooks said.

Jenna nodded.  “Did I do something wrong?  Am I in trouble?” 

“No,” Mrs. Brooks said. “Absolutely not.”

Jenna looked at Mrs. Brook’s face—then at her dad—his expression was stony—the muscle in his jaw tightly clenched.  “Then what is it?” she asked.

Mrs. Brooks sighed.  “Unfortunately there is a rule about how many absences you can have—even if those absences are excused—you still have to be in school at least 180 days out of the year.” She shuffled through some papers as she spoke. “Even if you had perfect attendance starting now until the end of the year, Jenna—you will have only been here 158 days.” 

“It’s not her fault and you know it,” Dad practically bit off the ends of his words as he spoke.  “Jenna would’ve been here if she’d had a choice.”  

“Yes, I know that, Mr. Stetson,” Mrs. Brooks said. “But the point remains that this is the policy.”

“So what does that mean?”  Jenna asked. 

Mrs. Brooks hesitated. “It’s possible that you might have to repeat the seventh grade.” 

Repeat—her friends would go on to eighth and she’d be left by herself—Jenna felt suddenly cold—Mom’s arm tightened around her.

“Mrs. Brooks, doesn’t it count for something that Jenna’s made up all of her missed work?” Mom’s voice broke in.  “Her grades have been fairly solid—that should be taken into account.” 

“Believe me, Mrs. Stetson, I would agree with you,” Mrs. Brooks said. “But our policy regarding absences is zero-tolerance, which at the moment is a growing trend. It doesn’t allow for any exceptions.” 

“That’s just it, then, right?”  Dad said. “All of the work Jenna’s put in—it doesn’t count for anything—I mean, that’s what you’re telling us.”

“That’s not what I’m telling you,” Mrs. Brooks said. “Now,  I’ve looked over Jenna’s grades—they’re not perfect, but she has worked very hard and I think that she deserves promotion this year. I’m going to write a letter of appeal to the board.” 

“Will they consider it?”  Mom asked.

“They should—and of course there will be a vote,” Mrs. Brooks shuffled through a few more papers. “We might also be able to compromise—summer school might be an option.”   She handed Mom a pamphlet as she spoke.  “I can assure you that we’ll do our very best.” 

“Yes, thank you Mrs. Brooks.”  Mom took the pamphlet and tucked it in her purse

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“Sweetheart, we have to get back to work now,” Mom said as they left the counselor’s office. Her dark eyes looked into Jenna’s. “Will you be all right?” 

“Sure, I’m fine.”  Jenna hoped she sounded convincing. Her head was starting to throb—that hadn’t happened in a while. Dad placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll be back to pick you up later, okay?”  he said.  “The last courtroom session’s today.”

“I remember.”  How could she possibly forget?  Dad pulled her into a brief hug.

“We’ll deal with this, munchkin,” he told her. “And whatever happens—it’ll be all right.”

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Arlington County Courthouse

Office of the Commonwealth’s Attorney

4:30 PM

“Unfortunately, zero tolerance seems to be the order of the day.”  Dr. Pfaff took off his glasses, cleaning them with a small cloth he took from his pocket. “The school boards generally make these rules—and I’m afraid that it doesn’t leave teachers and administrators with much leeway.” 

“What else can we do?” Dad asked.

“At this point, all you can do is wait for the board to make their decision. The Guidance Counselor is on your side, which is good—the board might take that into account. I’ll write a letter of my own, explaining the reasons for the excused absences.” 

Letters sounded good to Jenna, but still— “Will they listen to you or Mrs. Brooks?” She asked Dr. Pfaff. 

“They should at least consider it,” Dr. Pfaff said. “But you’re worried about what will happen if they don’t make an exception.” Jenna gave a slight nod. He put his glasses back on—eyes peering at her.

“How would you feel about having to repeat the grade, Jenna—honestly?”  he asked. 

“Well,” Jenna twisted her fingers together as she spoke. “I’d miss everyone—my best friends would be ahead of me—I wouldn’t like being left behind.” 

“You would be able to keep in touch with your friends outside of school.”  Dr. Pfaff reminded her.  “They wouldn’t have to stop being your friends.” 

“Maybe,” Jenna said. “But it—it wouldn’t be the same. We wouldn’t have anything to share or anything in common—and plus they’d go on to high school without me.”

“Private school is always an option, munchkin.”  Dad told her. “That way you wouldn’t have to repeat.”

“I don’t know about that.” Jenna knew Dad was only trying to help, but the idea of having to start a whole new school with new teachers and kids who would be total strangers—

Dr. Pfaff broke in. “Personally, I think we should wait to see what the school board does before we make any other decisions. There’s no sense in Jenna worrying about things that may never happen.” 

“I agree,” Dad said. 

Mr. Dutton cleared his throat—he’d been standing in a corner all this time with Mr. Welling—so quiet that Jenna had almost forgotten he was there. “I hate to rush anyone along,” he said. “But we do need to start this session before it gets too much later.” 

“I’m ready.” Jenna said. As ready as she’d ever be. Dad gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Mr. Welling took his seat.

“When we left off you had just fallen asleep, correct?”  he asked her.

“No,” Jenna said. “I didn’t fall asleep. I passed out—I was drugged.” 

Mr. Welling blinked—he hadn’t expected her to catch that, Jenna realized—but she had.  She hadn’t let him put words in her mouth—she’d beaten him at his own game. . 

“What happened after you woke up?”  Mr. Welling asked.

“I sat up—I felt kind of dizzy but it wasn’t too bad—I looked at the glass and saw the white stuff at the bottom, like some kind of powder—all dried up and stuck to the glass.” 

“That’s what made you think there were drugs in the water.” 

“Yes.” 

“And after that?” 

“I—” Jenna tried to think back. “I looked at my watch—it was ten o’clock at night. I thought everyone was probably asleep—at least at home everyone would’ve been asleep at that time. I put the fork in my pocket—just in case.”

“In case of what?” 

“In case I had to defend myself.” 

“And after that you opened the door and went downstairs?” 

“That’s what I did.” Jenna could still recall the way her heart had sounded, pounding in her ears—so loud that she was sure she’d wake up the entire house—the feeling that any moment someone would find her—she had to move fast—

“Did you get outside?”  Mr. Welling asked.

“I did—I unlocked the door—that’s when I saw the cell phone.” 

“And you took the cell phone? Someone else’s cell phone?”

She couldn’t get defensive—couldn’t let him put her on the defensive. “Yes—I needed to call my parents—let someone know where I was so they could help me.” 

“What did you do when you got outside?” 

“I hid in the bushes—squatted down—opened the phone and dialed Dad’s number.”

“Did your father answer?”

“Yes, he asked me if I was all right, if I was hurt—I told him I was fine—that I’d gotten out.”

“Even though you weren’t completely fine? According to you, you’d already been hurt.”

“I was out, I thought that was the most important thing—it wasn’t like I was hurt so bad that I couldn’t do anything.” 

Not then, Jenna added silently.  Dad squeezed her hand again.

“So you told your dad you were fine and you were out—what then?” 

“He asked me where I was—I told him I didn’t know but that the man’s name was Gary Johnston—and then—”

“Then what?” 

“Gary was there—he was holding a gun on me—he grabbed the phone and told me to get back inside.” 

“And did you comply?”

Jenna shook her head. “No.” 

“Why not? You said before that you were afraid of him, afraid of the gun.”

“I still was afraid—and I was scared that if I went back in the house he’d do something worse than what he did before— Besides, I’d already gotten out of the house— and I wasn’t ready to give up yet.”

“I see. Tell me what you did.” 

“Pretended to wave at someone—when he turned around—I stabbed him with the fork and pushed him over.” 

“Where did you stab him?”

“In the arm.” 

“You realize you might have really hurt someone doing that.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody—I was scared. All I wanted to do was get away.” 

“Did you run?”

“Yes.”

Sock-covered  feet pounding against the concrete—lungs burning, legs straining—footsteps behind her—coming up fast—no, don’t think about him—look ahead—think ahead—adrenaline surging through her veins as she saw the street sign up ahead—if she could make it past the end of the block maybe she’d be safe—

It was weird—Jenna could remember what happened—the details— how frightened she had felt—but the feeling she used to have— like it was happening all over again—that was mostly gone. Jenna concentrated on her breathing, deep and even—keeping herself calm. 

“How far did you get?” Mr. Welling’s voice pulled Jenna back to the present.

“Not very far—he slammed into my back—tackled me—knocked me down.”

“Down on your stomach?”

“Yes—I hit my chest hard—it hurt—for a minute I couldn’t breathe.”

“What did he do next?” 

“He was on top of me—he put the gun to the back of my head—he told me that if I pulled any more tricks he’d blow it off.” 

“He’d blow what off?” 

“My head.” 

“You’re quite sure that’s what he meant?” 

“I’m sure. He had the gun pointed at my head.” 

Mr. Welling nodded approvingly. “That is a logical assumption.  Can you tell me what happened next?”

“He asked me if I understood him. I said yes and he pulled me up—put my arm behind my back and walked me back to his house.” 

“Did anyone else witness this exchange, Jenna? You know, like neighbors, dog-walkers, teenagers out at night—”

Jenna tried to think back.  “I don’t think so—at least—I mean, if there was anybody I didn’t see them. No one tried to help me or anything.” 

“So, he took you back to the house and then?” 

“Gary threw me down on the floor—I pulled myself up so I was sitting—looking up at him. He said I was going to pay for what I did to him.” 
 

“What did you think he meant by that, Jenna?” 

“That he was going to kill me.” 

“He could’ve meant any number of things.” Mr. Welling leaned towards her. “Don’t you agree?” 

For one second Jenna’s heart pounded slightly faster, but then it was gone—she looked Mr. Welling in the eye. “No, I don’t agree.” 

Another blink.  “Explain.” 

“He was still holding the gun.” 

“The same gun he’d had before, in the bedroom?”

“I don’t know.” 

“And you thought he was going to shoot you, is that right?”

“I knew he was going to shoot me.” 

“How did you know?” 

“Let me explain.” 

“Please do.” 

“I tried to back away but he laughed,” Jenna said. “He told me there was no where left to run—I said that I’d called my dad—that someone would be coming to help—he said that by that time it would be too late—he lifted the gun and pointed it straight at me.” 

“Did he actually fire at you?”

“No—Suzanne was there—she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away—told him to let me go—”

“Let her go, please! I’m begging you—” 

Jenna realized that Mr. Welling was still looking at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Gary threw Suzanne off,” she said. “He told her that it was the last time she’d interfere—then he aimed at her and shot her.” 

“You saw him shoot her?” 

“Yes.” 

“Where on her body did he shoot her?” 

“Where—”  Jenna tried to think—all she could remember was blood on the front of Suzanne’s sweater—the pain in her eyes as she’d hit the wall and slumped down, blood smearing the wallpaper, pooling onto the floor—the overwhelming fear she’d felt—

Only memories—that’s what everyone had always told her—it was only now that they were actually starting to feel that way.

“Answer the question, Jenna,” Mr. Welling said. “Where exactly did Gary shoot Suzanne?” 

“It was the upper part of her body—I don’t know exactly where.” 

“Did you do anything?  Try to help her?” 

“No—my chest was really starting to hurt—I was too scared—I didn’t know what I could do.” 

Mr. Welling sighed. “Couldn’t you just answer yes or no?” 

“But it’s not just a yes or no question—and I’ve already answered..” 

“All right—tell me what Gary did next.”

“He knelt down beside me—ran the gun up my cheek.”  Jenna’s fingers traced her cheekbone as she spoke.  “Asked me if I wanted to go for a little ride.” 

“How did you answer him?”

“I didn’t—I was too scared to speak.” 

“But Gary didn’t shoot you then—did he?” 

“No—he hit me with the gun.” 

“Hit you where?” 

“On my forehead.” 

“Did you lose consciousness after he hit you?” 

“Yes.” 

“At what point did you regain consciousness?”

“I don’t know—everything kept going in and out—but I could feel him moving me around.” 

His blurred features floating before her—Jenna struggled to focus but the pain was too much—her head throbbed—something wet trickled down the side of her face—she wanted to move but she had no strength—

“—going to make you pay...”

“What do you mean, moving you around?”  Mr. Welling asked.

“He was pulling me by my leg and then he lifted me up—I tried to move on my own but I couldn’t—not very much.” 

“Is there anything else you remember?”

“Only what Gary kept telling me—that he was going to make me pay—make me regret what I did.” 

“And after that?”

This was going to be the hardest part, Jenna knew—if she could get through this the rest of the testimony would be a piece of cake—if she could.

Dad’s hand gave her own yet another squeeze—letting her know he was there. Jenna felt a confidence flow through her, filling her with certainty.  She could do this—look at what she’d survived—how far she’d come already—this wasn’t going to stop her. 

“After that I remember waking up,”  Jenna said. “I was lying in a car, on the seat.” 

“How do you know it was the seat of a car?” 

“I could hear the motor—feel the vibrations.” 

“Was the car still going—or had it stopped?”

“It was stopped—the door was open—I could feel a breeze.” 

“And you were lying on the seat?”  

“Yes?” 

“Were you lying on your back or your stomach?” 

“On my back.” 

“Was Gary there?” 

“He was—he was leaning over me.”  Jenna knew that Mr. Welling was going to ask how she knew that—she decided to head him off. “I could feel his breath on my face.” 

Looking into those eyes—Jenna had wanted to pull away from him—get away—the only problem was that there was nowhere to go—

In spite of everything Jenna still shivered at the memory—Dad’s grip tightened slightly. 

“Did he do anything else, Jenna?”  Mr. Welling asked.

“He wanted me to swallow something—kept trying to press it against my mouth.”

“You didn’t want to swallow it.” 

“No—I knew it was something bad.” 

“So, you didn’t swallow it, then?” 

“I had to, eventually—he grabbed my nose and squeezed it until I had to open my mouth to breathe—then he poured it in.” 

“Swallow it—swallow now or you’ll be sorry.” 

The liquid trickled down her throat as she’d swallowed—the bitter taste coating her tongue—Jenna had fought the urge to retch—not now, not in front of him—her stomach lurched as she’d  fought to swallow the stuff down—coughing—chest convulsing--

“What did you think you were swallowing?” 

“I don’t know—but it tasted bad and I felt so sick.” 

“Do you think it could’ve been some sort of drug?” 

“Probably—it made me feel bad—I felt so dizzy.” 

“Did it feel like the same drug you’d been given earlier?”

“It’s possible, but I can’t say because I don’t know for sure.” 

“So he drugged you—what happened next?” 

“He grabbed my wrist and twisted it—it hurt—I cried out—and he unbuckled my watch—said I wouldn’t need it where I was going.” 

“Where you were going? Those were the words he used?” 

“Those were the words.”  

“Exactly what did you think he meant by that?” 

“That he was going to kill me.” 

“Jenna—” Mr. Welling rose from his chair. He strode in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. “He might have meant any number of things—don’t you agree?”

Jenna shook her head.  “He meant that—he had already hurt me and tried to shoot me—he’d shot Suzanne.” 

“But why drug you?”  Mr. Welling asked. “Why do that when you were already hurt? Does that make any sense to you?” 

“Yes. He wanted to hurt me—frighten me—the drug was a way to do that.”  Jenna remembered the terrifying feeling of  everything spinning—like when she was little—arms out, spinning until she fell and then closing her eyes—feeling the rotation of the earth—only worse—much worse—this time if the world tilted too much she would go sliding off with it—

“Pure speculation, Miss Stetson—that’s all you have.”

Jenna kept her voice very calm. “No, Gary—his actions showed how he wanted to hurt me. I don’t think I’m speculating about that.” 

“Very well,” Mr. Welling said.  “Tell me what he did then.”

“He lifted up my sweater—I could see a knife.” 

“What did he do with the knife?” 

“He cut my belt off—pulled it out of my jeans.” 

“We don’t want anyone to identify you---at least not for a while.”

“Why did he do that—cut off your belt?” 

“He told me that he didn’t want anything to identify me.” 

“You clearly remember him saying that?” 

“I remember.” 

“Even though you were drugged and probably confused?” 

“Even then—I know what I heard.”

“And did you do anything? Say anything at all?”

“I told him no—told him not to do that—he called me Marcie—he told me I was bad—that I wouldn’t listen to my father..” 

“He called you Marcie?  Why would he do that?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“What did you tell him?”  

“That I wasn’t Marcie—and he wasn’t my Dad—I told him my name was Jenna.” Something in Jenna wanted to rush, get through this but she couldn’t—she knew she couldn’t—instead she concentrated on breathing in and out— her legs trembled slightly but it wasn’t too bad.  “That’s when he put his hand on my stomach.” 

“Where on your stomach?”

Jenna put her hand on the spot.  “Here.”

“Right below your ribs—you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“One hand or two hands?”

Jenna thought back. “Two hands.” 

“Why did he do that?” 

“Because he said he wanted to teach me a lesson about my name.” 

“What kind of a lesson?”

“He asked me what my name was. I didn’t answer at first—the room was starting to spin.” 

“Do you think what was because of the drugs?” 

“Probably— but I don’t know—my head was hurt too—that could’ve had something to do with it.” 

“You’re still sure that you were drugged.” 

He was trying to make her doubt herself now, Jenna realized. She wasn’t going to let him do that. “Yes I’m still sure.”

“How did he react when you didn’t answer at first?” 

“He just –he kept asking me to say it—say my name. Finally I told him that I was Jenna. That’s when he—”

“When he what?” 

“Gary—his hands pressed down on my chest—my ribs were already sore, and he pressed down really hard —he said that he would take the pain away if I told him I was Marcie.” 

A pain so bad that it had blocked everything else out—Jenna was unable to form coherent thoughts—to see anything beyond the pain. For just a moment she had hoped that he would kill her—end it there and make everything stop—

Even thinking about it made Jenna’s chest ache—but she was still here—still able to get through it.

“What did you do at that point?” Mr. Welling leaned over her suddenly.  Jenna looked up at him.

“I gave in, I guess— told him I was Marcie. I begged him to stop—I just wanted the pain to stop.” 

There was silence for a few moments. Mr. Welling sat back down in his chair.  He stared at her, his expression unreadable.

“Why do you think that he did that to you?” 

“I don’t know.”

“You sure that he actually did that? You’d been drugged, you were very weak—you could’ve imagined it—like a nightmare.” 

“No.” 

“Come, on, Jenna—It’s possible—anything’s possible.” 

“No, it’s not,” Jenna was surprised at the confidence in her voice—she looked Mr. Welling directly in the eye as she spoke. “I didn’t imagine it—I had never felt a pain as bad as that before—I couldn’t imagine that.” 

“Did he stop after you told him you were Marcie?”

“Yes.” 

“What then?” 

“Noises—I don’t know what they were. I think he left for a moment—came back—he had rope and he tied my arms and legs—after that I blacked out.” 

“And after that?” 

“I was bent over the hump on the floor of the backseat—on my stomach. Everything kept going in and out—my chest hurt—and my head.” 

“How long did you drive? How far?”

“I don’t know. Everything was fuzzy.” 

“Did Gary speak to you during that trip?” 

“After he realized that I was awake he did—he said it was almost over for me.” 

“How did you respond?” 

“I said I just wanted to go home—he said that I whined—just like Marcie—that he thought I would be different, but he was wrong.” 

“What did you think he meant when he talked about Marcie?”

“That he had killed her—that’s what I told him.”

“You accused him of murdering his daughter?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“And did he confess?” 

“He said that he had ‘returned’ her—called her ‘defective merchandise’.” 

“You’re certain that those were the words he used?”  

“I’m certain.” 

“He didn’t actually say murder, though—did he?”

“He said that murder was an ugly word—he preferred to think he ‘returned’ her.”
 

“What next?” 

“We stopped—he said we were at High Knob Lake—pulled me up—asked me if I was excited.  Then he put a piece of duct tape on my mouth—he said that it was so no one would hear me scream.”

“The rescue must have happened shortly after that point, correct?” 

“Yes, it did—there was a click—Dad told him to put me down—Gary—he threw me down and then Mom was there.”

Silence—Jenna looked at the clock—a quarter after six. Where had all the time gone? Dad’s hand continued to hold her own tightly.  Mr. Dutton was the first to speak.

“Jenna, that was incredible—you did very well.”  

Jenna stood slowly—her legs were still a bit wobbly but they supported her—Dad had her arm as she rose. “Thanks—I still felt a little shaky in places.”  

“It’s fine to feel shaky in places,” Mr. Welling added.  “You’ve been through a harrowing experience, Jenna—the Jury will expect you to show some emotion. But you didn’t fall apart—even when I leaned over you.  You held your own and that’s very good.” 

“Now we won’t be going into that level of detail in the hearing, Jenna,” Mr. Dutton told her. “We’ll just basically be outlining the testimony we need to establish probable cause for the kidnapping and then attempted murder—and introducing some of the evidence as well.”  

“But the trial will be comprehensive, right?” 

“Right. How do you feel now—about doing that?”

How did she feel?  “I feel better about it,” Jenna said. “I mean, I still feel a little nervous, but I guess that’s natural—Grandma called it stage-fright.”  

“That’s very normal, munchkin,” Dad told her.

“Yeah. But I don’t feel as nervous as I was—I don’t feel like I’ll have a flashback or freeze or anything like that.  I feel okay about it.”

“Okay is good,” Dr. Pfaff said. “And for this next week I want you to just relax—maybe do something fun—try to take your mind off things as much as you can. Dwelling on it, will only make you nervous, okay?”

“We have some things in mind,” Dad said.

“I’ll see you next Friday, Jenna.”  Mr. Dutton told her.

TBC

Some Justice –Part 12

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Saturday, April 7, 2001

7:30 AM

“Come on munchkin—time to wake up.”  Dad’s voice, Jenna realized—his hand patted her cheek. Blearily she opened her eyes to see him sitting beside her on the bed.

“Dad—it’s not a school day,” she reminded him.

“I know that—but I just think we should get an early start.”

“Why?”  Jenna pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Are we doing something?”

“Well—we’re going on a little day trip today—you, me, your Mom and your Grandma.” 

A day trip—Jenna shook her head, trying to clear it. “Where?” 

Dad paused. “Well, I can’t tell you exactly—it’s a surprise.” 

“But Dad, I’d really like to know where—”

“Just trust me, Jenna—it’s a place we’ll really like—we’ll all have a lot of fun today.” Taking her hands in his, he squeezed them gently. “All right?”

Jenna smiled. “All right.” 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“Good morning, sweetheart—don’t you look nice today.”  Mom greeted Jenna as she came downstairs. “Sit down—I’ll get you some juice and I’m making us all some cinnamon and apple waffles before we go.” 

“That sounds great.”  Jenna sat down at the kitchen counter beside Grandma—Dad was sipping at his coffee while reading the newspaper. “So—I’m dressed okay for where we’re going, right? I mean, shorts and a t-shirt are okay? ” 

“You’re dressed perfectly.”  Mom put a glass of apple juice beside Jenna. 

Time to find out more. “Will it be a long drive?”   Jenna took a sip of her apple juice.

“No,” Mom said. “It’ll be a drive, but it shouldn’t be very long at all.”

“So, like—maybe an hour or something?” Jenna tried to keep her tone casual. 

Mom put the waffles and put them on a plate. “Probably about two hours—or three if we stop for lunch somewhere or the traffic’s bad. Would you like butter and syrup on your waffles?”

“Just syrup,” Jenna replied. “What direction will we be going? Are we staying in the same state?” 

“Nice try, darling.”  Grandma told her. “But trying to pry a secret from your mother is close to impossible—and believe me, I’ve tried.” 

“Mo—ther,” Mom put the waffles and a fork and napkin in front of Jenna and then in front of Grandma.  She bent down beside Jenna’s stool—her dark eyes looking into Jenna’s own. “Sweetheart, listen to me—you’ll like where we’re going—and I promise you—you’ll have a good time.”

The same thing that Dad had said. Jenna smiled. “Okay.”  Mom ruffled her hair and straightened, going back over to the stove.  Jenna cut off a corner of the waffle and popped it into her mouth. 

“I heard that the session with well yesterday,” Grandma said. 

“It really did,” Dad said. “Jenna was fantastic—she shouldn’t have any problem at all with testifying at the hearing.” 

“Hopefully.” The butterflies in Jenna’s stomach fluttered—only slightly this time—a reminder that they were still there. “I’m still a little nervous, though.”

“Just remember what I told you about stage-fright,” Grandma said.  “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

“I will,” Jenna told her. “I probably won’t think about the underwear part though—that would be too weird.” 

Dad raised his eyebrows. “Underwear part? What underwear part?” 

“Just a little tip to conquer stage-fright,” Grandma said. “Nothing to worry about.” 

“I should be fine just as long as I don’t have to see him or anything.” Jenna reached for the newspaper—maybe they would have some good funnies in there today. 

“Ahh—munchkin,” Dad put his coffee down and stood, quickly reaching for the paper “I don’t think that—”

Dad wasn’t quick enough, though.  Jenna tried to speak but she couldn’t— right now she couldn’t seem to do anything but look:

‘Hearing in Johnston Trial Scheduled for Next Week’

That was the heading on the front page—underneath was a large picture of Gary in an orange jumpsuit—his cold eyes—looking right at her—his lips were curled up in a faint smile. The paper rattled—Jenna realized that her hands were trembling violently.  Her chest tightened—she struggled to control her breathing but there didn’t seem to be enough air in her lungs.

“Jenna?” Mom’s voice sounded muffled—like it was coming from a long ways away. Jenna was vaguely aware of hands resting on her shoulders—Dad’s hands. Her ears began to ring, hands and feet tingled—

‘I have to stop—relax—I can’t be like this—' Jenna started to put the paper down—she didn’t want to see anymore.

“No.”  Dad’s voice. He held her wrists—gently, but firmly—stopping any movement. “Don’t put it down—look at him.”

“Dad, please—I don’t want—”

“Look at him, Jenna,” Dad told her. “Really look. It’s just a picture. The picture can’t hurt you—and neither can he.”

Tears filled her eyes. “But I don’t want to.” 

“You need to.”  Dad said.  “It’s all right, munchkin—remember that you’re here and you’re safe. Now look.”

Just a picture—Jenna could feel the paper under her fingertips—she traced the outline of his face. Dad was right; she knew he was right, but even so—

“You can do it,” Dad told her. “I know you can. Face him. Breathe. You’re in control. Don’t let that creep scare you anymore.” 

‘I can do this,’ she thought.  ‘I’m in control—I’ve already come so far—this can’t bother me.’

Jenna looked.  She breathed deeply, letting her pulse slow as she looked at the man who had just walked in and changed her life, hurt her—changed her—changed everything.

“Hey—you okay?” Dad’s voice was quiet now—gentle. The hands that had held her wrists now rested reassuringly on her shoulders. 

“I’m okay, Dad,” Jenna’s voice shook slightly. “It is just a picture—I know that. I didn’t—I didn’t think they were allowed to do that any more because of the gag order.”

“The gag order prevents them from discussing details of your case,” Dad said. “It doesn’t mean they can’t report it at all. How do you feel now?” 

“Fine,” Jenna told him. “It’s just sometimes—I really hate it, you know? What he’s done to me—I hate it.”

“We all do, Jenna—we all hate what he did.”  Dad said. “But think about this next Friday— how you get to tell a judge what he did to you. And then in the trial you can put him away—possibly for the rest of his life.”

“Because I’m in control.” Jenna said.

“That’s right,” Amanda’s voice chimed in. “You are—and he’s not.” 

In control. Jenna stared down at the photo again—if she was in control she knew just what she wanted to do.

‘He’s not going to hurt me anymore—never ever again.’ Jenna crumpled the paper into a tight ball, squishing it together as tightly as she could.

“Let me take care of that.”  Jenna handed Grandma the paper and watched as Grandma marched over to the wastebasket and tossed it in. 

 “I’m so proud of you, munchkin.”  Dad patted her shoulders before taking his seat again.

Jenna felt a smile spread across her face. “Thanks, Dad.”  

“We’re all proud of you,” Mom said. “Finish your breakfast now—we’ll be leaving soon.” 

Jenna took another bite of her waffle—her hands were steady, not shaking anymore—her breaths deep and even. Sunlight filled the room—the waffles were warm and gooey and tasted delicious—but even so—

“I still can’t know where we’re going?”  she asked. 

Dad grinned. “No, that’s still a surprise—but it’s a surprise you’ll love—believe me.” 

Busch Gardens, Williamsburg, VA

12:15 PM

“Four adult one-day passes,” Dad pulled cash from his wallet.

Do you want those passes to cover Water Country as well?” the cashier asked.

“No, that’s all right—we didn’t bring our swimsuits anyway,” Dad said.  The girl handed him the passes and stamped their hands. 

“In case you leave the park—you don’t have to pay again to come back.” she explained.

“Mine looks different,” Jenna stared down at the yellow smiley-face on her hand.

Dad ruffled her hair. “Well—that just means you’re not allowed to get drunk at the Brewery, munchkin.” 

“D-a-a-d—honestly.” Jenna groaned.

“Seriously,” he told her. “That’s what it means.”  They stopped at a large clock, surrounded by a bench.  Classical music played in the background, the air was full of the smells of food—Jenna’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that while they’d eaten snacks in the car—they hadn’t yet had lunch. 

“Okay, now everyone—this clock is called Big Ben,” Mom handed Jenna a pamphlet. “Here’s a map—and if we get separated for any reason we can all meet back here—all right?”

“All right.” Jenna looked at the map.  Banbury Cross was where they were—Ireland was nearby—and Scotland—she saw a picture of a twisty yellow roller coaster—the Loch Ness Monster. It looked like fun—the question was, would she have the nerve to actually ride it?  There were so many other coasters too—Apollo’s Chariot, The Big Bad Wolf, Alpengeist , Drachen Fire—Lisa loved roller coasters but Jenna hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to ride one—until now. 

“Oh, this is wonderful,” Grandma said. “We can get something to eat, maybe do a little shopping—see the Clydesdales and catch the show at the Globe—there’s just so much to do.” 

“Probably lunch first, I think, Mother” Mom said.  “There’s a restaurant over here called Bistro 205—it looks like it has a nice buffet. Then after that we can decide what to do next.” 

Jenna took a deep breath. “Can I ride the Loch Ness Monster?” 

Dead silence—everyone turned to look at her. 

“Sweetheart, are you sure?” Mom asked.  “You’ve never really gone in for roller coasters before.” 

“I’m sure—” Jenna replied. “At least—maybe if someone would ride it with me?”

“Not me,” Grandma said with a visible shudder. “I prefer to keep my feet—and my stomach—on the ground—and your mother gets motion sickness with rides like that.” 

Dad spoke up. “I’ll ride with you, Jenna.” 

Jenna looked at him. “Are you sure?”

Dad nodded.  “Yes—as long as you’re really sure.” 

Was she?  Jenna looked down at the picture on the map—she could see loops—meaning that the coaster went upside-down. Could be scary—her stomach flip-flopped slightly.

‘Come on—’ a little voice chided her.  ‘All you’ve been through and you’re afraid of a little roller coaster?’ 

Jenna looked up at Dad and smiled. “I’m sure.”  Dad patted her shoulder and they stood.

“Would you all like your picture taken?” A girl, wearing a skirt and fancy blouse and holding a camera approached them. Her nametag identified her as Theresa.

“That would be great,” Dad took out his wallet again. “How much—”

“Oh don’t pay me now,” the girl said.  “You’ll be able to pick it up later when you leave the park—just stand here—right in front of the clock.”  They stood—Mom and Dad, Grandma—and Jenna in the middle.

“Okay, now smile—say cheese.” 

“Cheese!”  

There was a click and a flash. 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

2:00 PM 

“Passengers may now board the ride,” the loudspeaker said as the gates swung open smoothly. Jenna and Dad climbed into the seats in the third row.

“Please fasten your seatbelt and secure your harness.” The voice instructed. Jenna fastened her seatbelt and started to pull the harness down.

“Here, let me do that.” Dad lowered the harness, pressing it down until it clicked and locked into place before lowering his own. “Now, you hold on tight to those handles in the front, all right?” 

“All right,” Jenna said.

The loudspeaker voice reminded them to enjoy their ride and enjoy spending the rest of their day at Busch Gardens, the Old Country—the ride left the station and began moving up the hill, making a grinding, clicking sound as it slowly rose—a long way up—it looked so high. Jenna remembered the picture she’d seen—the hills and loops—what if—

“Dad?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe I’m not ready. I mean, I thought I was—but maybe—maybe I was wrong”

“Well—ahh—it’s a little late for that now, munchkin.”  Dad’s voice rose over the clicks and the noise of the machinery.  “Just relax—you’ll be fine.” 

Fine—nothing to do but enjoy the ride now—Jenna concentrated on breathing as they neared the top—her hands gripped the handles of the harness tightly. 

“I’m right here with you,” Dad said. “You’re not alone.”

Jenna swallowed. “Okay.”  Her voice sounded small and squeaky to her own ears. 

A small hill and then a gentle curve. That wasn’t so bad, really—actually enjoyable—Jenna started to loosen a bit and then she saw it—the hill up ahead. 

“Oh no, oh no—oh my—”

A scream ripped from Jenna’s throat as the car plunged downwards—it looked as though it was heading straight for the water. Her heart and stomach leapt into her throat—Jenna wanted to close her eyes but didn’t as the plunge continued—the feeling scary but actually fun at the same time—everyone else was screaming too. Another curve—much faster than the one before—another drop and suddenly the sky was below her and Jenna was looking down at the water for a split second as they looped upside down—then around another bend before the cars entered the cool darkness of the tunnel—mist blew on Jenna’s face and she heard noises—howling—followed by little flashes of light—she guessed that it was supposed to be the Loch Ness Monster himself. 

They left the tunnel, turned and plummeted straight down another hill—Jenna screamed again—not as loudly as the first time, though it was hard to tell with all the rest of the screaming—the world tilted as they spun around another loop—the cars dipped again slightly and then they were pulling into the station again. Jenna still held on to the harness handles. Her heart pounded hard—she tried to get her breath back.

“Please place your hands by your sides,” the loudspeaker instructed. Jenna did. The harness flew up by itself— quickly she unfastened the safety belt. Dad got out of the car first and helped her climb out.

 “You weren’t too scared—were you?” Dad’s eyes were filled with concern as he looked at her.

Jenna shook her head. “No—seriously, I’m okay—but I was just going to ask—”

“Ask what?” 

“Could we ride that roller coaster again?  Or maybe another roller coaster?”

Dad laughed and hugged her briefly. “Maybe later, huh?  Right now let’s find your mom and grandma—see what they’d like to do next.” 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4:15 PM

“Well that was a cute show,” Grandma said as they left the Globe Theater—the light was so bright in contrast that Jenna had to shield her eyes until they adjusted. “Though I don’t quite see why we needed to be sprayed with water.” 

“It was just a little sprinkle, Mother,” Amanda replied.  “That’s why it was called 4-D—you were supposed to feel what was happening on the screen too. It was about pirates, after all.” 

“It probably should’ve been saltwater, to be accurate,” Jenna said.

“They wouldn’t dare,” Grandma said. “But after that, I’m definitely in the mood for some shopping.” 

“Can I ride another ride?”  Jenna asked.

“Sweetheart, you’ve ridden three coasters already,” Mom reminded her. “And no, we’re still not going to let you ride Alpengeist or Drachen Fire—people who got off those rides were complaining about head pain and neck pain—the last thing you need at this point is another head injury.”

“Your mom’s right,” Dad said.  “The doctor said that you need to avoid hitting your head again—it could be very dangerous.” 

“Well, okay, but there are other rides too.” Jenna read off her map as they walked. “There’s the swings—um—Da Vinci’s Cradle—the Battering Ram, the Katapult—” 

“Darling, those just sound painful.”  Grandma said.

“Grandma, they’re really not that bad—honest.” 

“Why don’t we do a little shopping first?”  Mom suggested gently. “Then you can ride a few more things before dinner—I’ll even ride the swings with you. And besides, you want to get some souvenirs, don’t you?” 

Jenna smiled and nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Hey Jenna—come here—tell me what you think of these.”  Dad stood in front of one of the souvenir shops—Jenna walked over to him. 

“What—” then she saw what he was pointing at—the wristwatches—they were in their boxes—in one of those small cases that spun around.  For a moment, Jenna was speechless, just staring at them.

*~~*

His large hand wrapped around her wrist—without warning he twisted, causing sharp pain to shoot from her wrist straight down through her arm.  Jenna tried not to show him that it had hurt her but it was too much—tears pricked her eyes—a small cry escaped her lips.

“You won’t need this…not where you’re going.” 

*~~*

“I thought it was about time you got a new one,” Dad’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Pick any one you like.” 

Any one she liked. Jenna realized a salesgirl was standing there, along with Mom and Grandma—everyone was waiting for her to make a decision.  Which one?  In her mind’s eye Gary was still there, his hands—

No—Gary was the past—this was now. Jenna drew in a deep breath and let it out again. That was when she saw it—a lavender band—the watch face read “Busch Gardens, USA” in bright rainbow letters against a lavender background

“That one.”  Jenna pointed. The girl unlocked the case and removed the watch—Dad pulled out cash and paid for it.

“It’s already been set to the right time,” the girl handed Jenna the watch. “There you go—and enjoy the rest of your day here at Busch Gardens.” 

“Thank you.” Jenna took the watch.

“Let me, munchkin.” Dad took the watch—Jenna held out her wrist and he carefully fastened the watch and pulled the straps through.  

“There,” Dad said “How’s that?” 

“It’s perfect,” Jenna replied. It fit securely on her wrist but not too tightly—it felt just right.  “Thank you.”  Her parents’ arms encircled her briefly.

SMK SMK SMK  SMK

Das FestHaus

7:00 PM 

“Jenna—pizza and German potato salad?”  Grandma asked as Jenna carried her tray back to the table and sat down. “I mean, they don’t exactly go together.” 

“Well, I like them both.”  Jenna looked at the cake Grandma had. 

“Wow—that is some cake,” she said.

“It’s called a mile-high torte,” Grandma said. “We can split it later on—I have to admit that I couldn’t possibly eat all of this myself. Deal?”

Jenna grinned. “It’s a deal.”   

Mom and Dad were still in the tray line with their food—from where she was sitting Jenna could see the stage and the dancers—the guys wore short overalls and hats, and the women wore beautiful red and white dresses, with flowers in their hair as they hopped, clapped and whirled around to the music.

“Now there’s something you would probably be very good at ,” Grandma said. “Though I can’t imagine where they teach German folk dancing.” 

“It would be fun, though.” Jenna took a bite of her pizza as she looked at the dancers. “I love the dresses.” 

“You know, your Mom and I saw dancers like that once when we were in Germany.”  Dad’s voice sounded behind her—he and Mom took a seat beside her.

“When were you in Germany?”  Jenna asked.

“Before you were born,” Mom said. “Actually—we’ve been there a few times.” 

“For film stuff?” Jenna wanted to know. 

Mom and Dad exchanged glances.

“Yeah—mostly,” Mom said. Grandma made a strange sound, almost like she was clearing her throat

“Well sometimes this business involves travel,” Dad said. “We’ve been to Berlin, Munich—Tegernsee—even Salzburg.”

Jenna took a sip of her Pepsi. “Where’s Tegernsee?” 

“It’s a resort town in the Bavarian Alps,” Mom said.  “One of these days we’ll take you there.”

“Would you like to go on stage and do the Chicken Dance?” A woman’s voice asked. Jenna looked up to see one of the dancers from the stage. 

“The Chicken Dance?” Jenna repeated.  As she spoke she could see other kids—some younger—some older— being led from the audience—to form a large circle on the stage.

“Sweetheart you know how to do that dance,” Mom said. “Go ahead—it’ll be fun.” 

“Well—” Jenna paused. On one hand she felt a little silly, but on the other hand—  “Okay.”  The woman took Jenna’s hand and led her up the stairs and onto the stage as the Chicken Dance music began.

SMK SMK SMK SMK 

10:15 PM

So quiet.

Lee glanced over at his daughter as she stood in line, waiting for the tram that would take them out of the park. In one arm she clutched the large stuffed bear that he’d helped her win at the arcade, her head resting against the bear.  Jenna’s dark eyes stared blankly ahead, reminding Lee of the time after the first hypnosis session—Dr. Pfaff had referred to it as ‘emotional numbing’—a common symptom of PTSD. 

But this had been a good day, he reminded himself—a fun day. And Jenna had definitely enjoyed it all—the shows, the rides—and of course the roller coasters . Lee still remembered the  wide grin on her face as she’d done the ‘Chicken Dance’ on the FestHaus stage—silly, giggling— for once not caring whether anyone was ‘looking at her’.  Lee remembered only months ago—staring at the birthday photo on the fridge, wishing he could have that happy girl back again.  He had definitely seen that girl today—but now—

Chances were she was just tired, Lee reasoned—it had been a long day—Jenna would usually be in bed by this time.  That was probably all it was.

At least he hoped that’s all it was. Looking at Amanda, he could see his own concern mirrored in her gaze—his hand found hers—giving it a brief squeeze.

The tram pulled up to the station—the loudspeaker voice telling them to climb on board and keep their arms and legs inside.  Jenna stumbled slightly as she stepped up, and Lee supported her, helping to climb aboard. 

“Thanks, Dad.” A small smile.  Jenna sat on one side of Lee—Amanda and Dotty on the other side. Slowly the tram pulled away from the station, picking up speed as they headed towards the parking lot.  Jenna held the bear in her lap—her arms wrapped around its large stuffed form.

“Want me to take that for you, munchkin?”  Lee asked. “It’s awfully big.” 

“No,” Jenna shook her head. “That’s okay, Dad—I like him—he’s so soft.”

“Did you have a good day, sweetheart?”  Amanda asked. 

Another small smile. “It was a great day—I guess I’m just tired, that’s all.” 

Was she telling the truth? Lee watched Jenna closely.  In his career he had learned how to read body language—signs that would tell him whether someone was being honest.  And with a child it should’ve been easy, but with his own child—he really didn’t know.

“I know just how you feel, Jenna.”  Dotty covered a yawn. “I’ll be so happy just to climb into bed tonight—and I definitely plan on sleeping in.”

“We all will, Mother.”  Amanda said.  “And when we wake up tomorrow morning I’ll whip us up a nice brunch.” 

“Sounds marvelous.”  Dotty replied.  They pulled to a stop in front of the Luxembourg station as more people piled onto the train.

“Anyone ready to sing?” The train operator asked.  “On three—one, two—three. The wheels on the bus go round and round—” The younger children on the tram joined in enthusiastically, along with several parents. Lee looked over at Jenna—her head was now resting on the back of the bear—her eyes closed— she looked a little pale and peaked to him but that could’ve been just sheer fatigue. The tram turned a corner—jolting slightly as it did.  Jenna’s eyes opened wide, suddenly—a small shudder passed through her body as the motion jolted her awake.

The tram came to a halt at the entrance to the Germany parking lot—the very same place they’d left that that morning.

“For those of you who parked at Germany, your time with us is over,” the tram operator said. “ I hope you have a good evening— please be sure to collect your belongings before leaving the tram, and we hope you enjoyed your day with us here at Busch Gardens, the Old Country.” 

“Come on Jenna,” Lee touched his daughter’s arm. “Time to go.” 

Slowly Jenna rose—he helped her to step down. 

“Do we have everything, Amanda?”  Dotty asked. 

“Yes Mother,” Amanda replied. “I have my two bags and you have yours—Jenna has her bear—we’re all set.” 

“Good,” Dotty said. “You know, they always tell you they aren’t responsible for lost articles at these places, which is ridiculous, frankly. Maybe I’ll write a letter.” 

“Maybe you should, Mother.”  Lee could hear the faint tinge of amusement in his wife’s voice.

Aisle J—Section Three—that was where they’d parked, he remembered. Lee noticed Jenna was shivering slightly.  It made sense though, the night air being cool, and she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt—she was probably clutching the bear just to keep warm.

“Don’t worry, munchkin,” he told her. “Once you get in the car we’ll turn on the heat a little so you can warm up—we even have a blanket and pillow in the trunk in case you want to lie down in the back seat.” 

Jenna’s voice was low. “Thanks, Dad.” 

It wasn’t until Lee actually got to the car itself, until he had popped open the trunk and removed the neatly folded blanket and pillow, that it suddenly hit him.

Lying down in the back seat—

The last time Jenna had been lying down in a back seat had been when Gary had her—when he’d drugged her—tortured her—Lee hadn’t thought about that at all, how Jenna might feel—maybe that’s what was bothering her?

‘I’m such an idiot—I didn’t even think…’

Amanda was looking at him—no words passed between them but Lee knew they were on the same wavelength. 

“Ahh—Jenna,” Lee tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible.  “You know you don’t have to sit in the back if you don’t want to.” 

“Dad—” Jenna began.

“I’m serious,” Lee said.  “You can always sit in the front seat or in the middle seats—the chairs do recline.”  

“But Dad—seriously—I’m fine,” Jenna said. “I’ll be fine in the back.” 

“Sweetheart, are you sure?”  Amanda said. “The last thing we want to do is bring up bad memories.” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jenna said. “This isn’t like the last time at all—the last time was bad, but I know that I’m safe this time.” 

“You’re sure?” Dad asked.

A small sigh. “I’m really sure.” 

Despite the obvious fatigue Lee heard a confidence his daughter’s voice that he hadn’t heard before.  He unlocked the back part of the minivan, placing the blankets and the pillow on the seat. Jenna climbed inside, putting the bear on the floor. Dotty sat in the middle and Amanda sat up front with him.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re lying down, but don’t forget to fasten your seat belt,” Amanda called back.

“ ‘kay, Mom.” Jenna’s voice was half-yawn at this point. “Night.” 

“Night, munchkin.”   Lee turned the heater on low and he turned on the radio, the volume low—finding a station that was soft and relaxing.  He turned the headlights on and slowly backed out of the parking space, looking back briefly as he did.  Jenna was covered by the blanket—the pillow under her head—shoes off, eyes closed—her body completely relaxed. Lee felt lighter suddenly—as if a weight had been removed from his chest.

‘She’s fine,’ he thought. ‘She’s getting through this—she’ll be just fine.’ 

His eyes met Amanda’s once more—they shared a smile. 

TBC 

*The usual disclaimers apply—a big thank you to Ermintrude for the title and for all of her help with the story and also with all the technical things regarding CCTV—Thank you so much. Hope you enjoy—the trial will be coming  shortly ;) *

Some Justice—Part Thirteen—Conclusion

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Friday, April 13, 2001

6:40 AM

“It's been one week since you looked at me

Cocked your head to one side

and said "I'm angry"

Five days since you laughed at me saying

Get that together, come back and see me"

The music filled Jenna’s head as she sat on the edge of her bed, pulling up her pantyhose. Usually, it would’ve been relaxing—this was her favorite song—but this morning the noise was just—grabbing the remote she turned the CD player off.

‘I have to calm down,’ Jenna thought. She concentrated on her breathing—in and out slowly—trying to steady her trembling hands and the wobbly feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Today was the day.

It wasn’t like it was a surprise.  Jenna had become accustomed to marking off on her calendar—thinking about it—mentally planning what she would do.

‘Four days to go—three days to go---two days—one—

No more planning—no more days to go—nothing else to do because it was happening now—it was here— Jenna pictured herself harnessed, locked into the ride as it clicked slowly up the hill—

‘Too late to turn back now—’

“Damn!” the word burst from her lips as her nail caught and snagged the pantyhose, tearing a hole. Tears filled Jenna’s eyes as she peeled the hose off, balled it up and threw it across the room. Breathing hard now, she put her hands over her face, fighting for control.

“Sweetheart?” Mom’s voice. There was a gentle tap on the door. “Your father went to Marvin’s—he got you some breakfast—that croissant sandwich you like.” 

“I’m really not—” Jenna wiped at her eyes-- trying to hold her voice steady—mom didn’t need to know that she was falling apart. “—not really hungry right now, okay?”

“But you need to try and eat something—it’s going to be a long morning—I don’t know if they’ll have any snacks at the courthouse.” 

“I’m not hungry, though—seriously.”  Silence for a moment—maybe Mom had left—There was a slight creak as the door opened.

“Jenna? What’s—” Mom stood there, looking at her. Jenna could only guess what her face must look like.

“I’m sorry,” Jenna choked out. “I just—”

“Oh, Sweetheart.”  In two strides Mom was seated beside her on the bed, her arm around Jenna, rubbing her back soothingly.  “It really is all right—you’ll be just fine—here you go.”  Reaching across to Jenna’s nightstand she handed her a tissue.

“It’s not all right,” the words poured out—Jenna crumpled the tissue in her hand. “Look at me—I’m shaking and I can’t stop—my stomach feels sick—I ripped my—my pantyhose—I’m just a wreck—how am I going to do this today if I’m a wreck?” 

“It’s just nerves—” Mom patted her shoulder and stood, going over to Jenna’s dresser and opening the top drawer. “Look, I got you two pairs just in case that happened—it happens to me all the time.” 

Jenna blew her nose. “Thanks, Mom.  I know this is only stage fright—I just didn’t expect to feel quite this bad. I’ve been getting ready for this—I know I’m ready—but still—”

“It’s still different when it’s actually here.”

Her thoughts exactly. Jenna nodded in agreement as she tore at the plastic cover for the hose, unfolding them from the cardboard insert and pulling them on—more carefully this time. She stood as she pulled them the rest of the way up and then pulled her skirt on, fastening the waistband and tucking the blouse into the skirt. Jenna slid her feet into a pair of loafers with low heels and grabbed her hairbrush from the vanity.   

“Here, sweetheart, sit down—let me.”  Jenna handed Mom the brush and sat down at her vanity.

“You haven’t brushed my hair since I was in elementary school,” she reminded her.

“Well, I know—but today is special.” 

Mom brushed through Jenna’s almost shoulder-length hair smoothly—even when her hair was tangled, Jenna never remembered Mom pulling, not even once. She watched them together, reflected in the mirror—watched herself—she felt her body relax, the shaking beginning to calm a little under the gentle touch.

“Listen to me,” Mom began. “Even when you’re prepared, stage fright is perfectly normal. I can remember when I was your age—I was in the citywide spelling bee.”

“You were?”

“Yes I was—I won the school-wide spelling bee so they sent me on to the city. Mother and I must have studied every single night—we had a little book of words, and I swear I memorized every single word in there.” 

“Wow—you must have been really excited about it.”

Mom smiled. “Oh yeah. It was at the convention center—it was all going to be televised—all the kids at my school were going to watch—I even got a new outfit for the occasion—just like you did. But do you know what I did—the morning of the spelling bee?” 

“What did you do?” 

“I remember that I got up—looked at my calendar—looked at the outfit hanging from my doorknob—and suddenly my stomach—anyway, I made a run for the bathroom, leaned over the toilet and threw up. That’s how nervous I was.” 

“How did you do at the spelling bee?” 

“Well—I didn’t win—but once I got past my nerves, I made it to the tenth round,” Mom paused. “I know your situation is very different. You’re going through things that I couldn’t have even imagined at your age—but you’re not alone—your feelings are very normal. I know you can do this today.”

“I know I can do this too,” Jenna repeated.  She looked at her face in the mirror. Even under the nervousness could see confidence. “I’ll be okay—won’t I?” 

Mom put down the brush and enfolded her in a hug.  “Yes, you will. Why don’t you go downstairs and at least eat some of your breakfast, okay? We’ll be leaving in twenty minutes”  

“Okay.”  Jenna’s stomach was still a little wobbly-feeling, but at the same time she realized that it was rumbling.  “Thanks, Mom.”

Office of the Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney

2100 Clarendon Blvd

7:20 AM

“How are you doing this morning, Jenna?”   Mr. Dutton asked as they entered the office.

“Fine.”  Jenna recognized Mr. Welling, standing beside Mr. Dutton—she didn’t know the other man or the blond woman. “Maybe a little nervous.” 

“That’s very normal, believe me,” Mr. Dutton replied. “You look very nice today—the skirt and blouse are very appropriate.” 

“Thanks,” Jenna said.

“While we’re here, Jenna, I’d like introduce you to the rest of your team. You already know Mr. Welling, of course—and this is Mr. Bryson and Ms. Dunbar—they’ll be assisting us today.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Jenna shook their hands. Her team—she had to admit that the whole thing still made her feel a little weird.

“Did you have a good breakfast?” Mr. Dutton asked her. “If not, we can always get you something.” 

“I already ate, actually,” Jenna said. “But thank you.”  

Mr. Dutton smiled. “No problem.”  He indicated the sofa.  “If you all would have a seat—I’d like to go over the evidence that I’ll be asking you for, Jenna—and also the evidence that I’ll be presenting. I don’t want you to have any shocks or surprises today. ” 

“I understand.”  Jenna sat down—Mom and Dad sat on either side. “You said that we’re not going over the evidence in detail, right?” 

“That’s right,” Mr. Welling spoke up. “We’ll only be introducing enough evidence to establish probable cause that a crime was committed. So the testimony we’ll require from you mainly concerns the kidnapping itself as well as the attempted murder.”

“You mean in the car when he said he was going to kill me?” Jenna asked. “Or when he pointed the gun at me back in the house?” 

“Not precisely, though those things do establish intent and premeditation.”  Mr. Dutton said.  “The murder attempt is what happened in the car.”

The car—no matter how much they had discussed it—it was still—Jenna still felt a slight shudder pass through her at the memory. “You mean when he drugged me and pressed down on my chest?”

“That’s what I mean,” Mr. Dutton nodded.

“But I don’t know if he was trying to actually kill me then,” Jenna said. “I think he just wanted to hurt me.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” the woman, Ms. Dunbar, replied. “The drug he gave you was not intended for children, the dosage you took was much higher than recommended, especially when you still had drugs in your system from earlier.  That alone could’ve killed you. And when combined with the pressure that he applied to your chest, you’re very lucky to still be alive.” 

Jenna remembered that moment, the feelings—the intense nausea, the dizziness—sharp pain—so intense that for a moment she’d actually wished for death. Dad took Jenna’s hand in his, squeezing gently.  “Do we have evidence for that—I mean other evidence except just me?” 

“Yes,” Mr. Dutton replied. “We have toxicology tests, hair and fiber samples from the backseat of his car—x-rays and photographs of the injury to your chest—there’s a lot of bruising, but the imprint of Gary’s hands is visible in the photograph. We’ll be introducing this evidence as you’re speaking.”

“That’s basically all I’ll be testifying about?” Jenna asked.  “What about Marcie—what he said he did to her?”  The lawyers were silent for a moment—staring at one another.  “What is it?” 

Mr. Welling cleared his throat.  “At this time we’re still trying to gather evidence to prove the murder charge—what he told you isn’t actually solid evidence. So, while we won’t be bringing that up at the hearing, we will be hoping to introduce more evidence at the Grand Jury to substantiate that charge.”

“So she is—Marcie’s dead?”  Everyone nodded.  Jenna bit down hard on her lower lip. Part of her had known this—known it deep down, but still, actually hearing about it was—she thought about Marcie with Gary—the way that Gary treated her—what he must have done to his own daughter—

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you earlier, munchkin,” Dad said. “It’s just—we thought you had enough to worry about without adding more to it.”

“No—it’s okay, really,” Jenna could hear a tremor in her voice, but she managed to keep it under control. “I guess I just didn’t think about it.” 

“The most important thing to think about is that if we play this right, this man will be never be allowed to hurt anyone else ever again,” Mr. Dutton told her. “Do you have any other questions?”  Mr. Dutton asked.

Did she? Part of Jenna wanted to ask how Marcie had died, but the other part—

‘Maybe I don’t really want to know.’ 

“No,” she said out loud.  “I don’t have any other questions right now.” 

“Very good,” Mr. Dutton looked at his watch. “We’re going to take my car and we’ll be entering the courthouse through the underground parking garage—that way we’ll be able to dodge the press.” 

Jenna rose from the sofa—Mom and Dad stood too. “But I thought the press wasn’t allowed.” 

“They’re not allowed in the courtroom, Jenna,” Mr. Dutton told her. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t be camped outside the courthouse. But with any luck we’ll be able to avoid most of them.” Another glance at his watch. “We really should get going before it gets too much later.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK 

Mr. Dutton’s car was practically a limo—it still had that new car smell—idly Jenna fingered the black leather—wondering whether it was new or if he just had it cleaned a lot. She knew that Dad washed his Corvette at least once a week, but Dad’s car was definitely older than this.

Almost there—the light changed to green and they turned onto North Courthouse Road. Through the window’s tinted glass Jenna could see a large number of people parked out front—vans, people with microphones. Mr. Dutton certainly hadn’t been kidding when he talked about the press.

“Hey—you all right, munchkin?”  Dad asked her softly. 

“I’m okay—really.”  Jenna told him. “I guess I’m just thinking.” 

“Just remember that I’ll be with you the whole time,” Dad said. “You won’t be alone.” 

Jenna tried to smile. “I know.” 

At that moment Mom’s cell phone rang—she took it out of her pocket and flipped it open.

“Hello,” she said.  There was a brief pause. “Oh, I’m so glad you both made it—yes, she’ll be very glad.” 

“Mom, who—” Jenna started to ask, but Mom waved her hand. 

“For the weekend?  That’s fantastic, sweetheart. Yes—yes she’s right here, I’ll put her on right now.”  Mom handed Jenna the phone.

“Hello?”  Jenna said. 

“Hey, Jenna—it’s Phillip—how are you doing?”

It seemed like everyone had asked her that this morning.  “I’m doing okay,” Jenna told him. 

“I’m glad,” Phillip said. “I just wanted to let you know that me and the Wormbrain—”

“Knock it off, doofus.” Jamie’s voice. Jenna felt a smile spreading across her face. 

“Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Phillip said.  “I just wanted to let you know that we’ll  be at the hearing—I don’t know if you’ll be able to see us on camera, but we’ll definitely be there—we’ll be sitting beside Mom and Grandma.” 

“Thanks,” Jenna’s throat felt suddenly tight.  “It really—it means a lot.”

“We’re family,” Phillip said. “There’s no way we’d let you go through this alone. See you after—okay?  Maybe we’ll all go out and celebrate.”

“Maybe—see you after—I love you—tell Jamie I love him.” The car was pulling into the darkness of the underground garage—the security guard waved them on through.

“We love you too, Jenna—talk to you later.”  

“Bye.”  Jenna whispered. She closed the phone and gave it back to Mom, who reached over and gave her a hug. 

“Remember what I said, okay?”  Mom told her. “I know you can do this.” 

Arlington County Courthouse

9:10 AM 

“Here you go, Jenna,” Barbara said. “Sit still now.”

Jenna sat very still as Barbara looped the cord around the microphone clip and then clipped it to the front of her blouse, right near her collar—the microphone part was pointing toward her mouth. Barbara was wearing headphones, Jenna noticed—she guessed it was probably so she could hear the people in the booth. 

“There,” Barbara said as she tucked the cord into the waistband of Jenna’s skirt. “How’s that?” 

“It’s fine,” Jenna said.  “Who else gets a microphone?” 

“Everyone the court needs to hear—and you’ll be able to hear everyone in the courtroom,” Barbara replied. “That means you, the Judge and the attorneys—everyone who’ll be speaking today.” 

“Oh. I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it?”  Jenna knew that probably sounded really lame, but she tended to chatter when she was nervous.

“Now I’m going to need to run a sound check—just like I did with Mr. Dutton,” Barbara told her. “The people up in the booth will test your audio levels.” 

“What do I need to do?”

“Just count from one to ten—slowly.”  

“One—two—three—four—five,” Jenna counted as slowly as she could.  “Six—seven—eight—nine—ten.” 

Barbara nodded. “Perfect.”  The woman straightened. Jenna watched as she stood behind the camera momentarily, making some slight adjustments—she checked the VCR below the monitor. 

Jenna looked down at her watch. Thirteen minutes after nine—not long now. She drew in a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly, visualizing a balloon slowly deflating, growing flatter. 

‘Relax…relax…relax…’ she thought. Dad took her hand, letting her know without words that she wasn’t alone.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you.” 

A man’s voice. Startled, Jenna looked up to see the owner of that voice—a   tall thin man with piercing grey eyes and hair so blond it was nearly white.

“I thought I’d just introduce myself, Jenna” the man said. “My name is Dennis Baylor—it’s nice to meet you at last.”

“You too, Mr. Baylor.”  Jenna didn’t know what else to say to him—the butterflies in her stomach started to hop —Dad’s grip tightened slightly around her hand.

“And this is your guardian ad litem, correct?”  Mr. Baylor asked. “Or is victim advocate the right word?”

Jenna stared at the man in confusion. “My what?” 

Dad let go of her hand and slowly stood, practically nose to nose with Mr. Baylor. “This is Jenna’s father—Lee Stetson.” 

“Well—it’s certainly nice to meet you too, Dad.” Mr. Baylor extended his hand but Dad ignored it.  Mr. Baylor withdrew his hand and turned back to Jenna.

“Now Jenna— I know that all this must be very strange for you,” Mr. Baylor smiled condescendingly.  “The whole situation is so confusing. If I were in your shoes I wouldn’t know what to say or do.” 

“It’s not confusing, Mr. Baylor. I’m going to tell the truth.”  Jenna spoke quietly. Mr. Baylor’s neck flushed a deep red color—without another word he walked away and sat down at the other end of the table. Barbara began putting a mike on him, repeating the same process she had with Jenna.

“Good job,” Dad said. 

“I didn’t mean to be rude or anything.”  Jenna struggled to explain her feelings.  “But he was just—”

“You weren’t rude, Jenna,” Mr. Dutton said, not looking up from his file folder as he spoke. “You simply asserted yourself, and you have every right to do so.” 

“It’s just that I don’t understand what he was doing,” Jenna said. 

Dad spoke—hardly moving his lips—he was looking over at Mr. Baylor.  “What he was trying to do was psyche you out—and you didn’t let him. You did very well.” 

Trying to psyche her out—the hearing hadn’t even started and they were already playing games. Jenna fiddled nervously with her mike, trying to breathe normally. Her legs shook—she pressed them together tightly—thankful that no one else could see under the table.  She stared at the camera right in front of her—and the monitor, which was already on. Despite her earlier vows not to look at it, Jenna found her eyes drawn to the screen. 

Everyone looked so tiny—from here she could see everyone—Mom, Grandma, Phillip and Jamie—even Billy and Francine were there.  Jenna hadn’t known they were coming, but it made her feel good to have them there.  She could see Mr. Welling too, seated at a table with Mr. Bryson and Ms. Dunbar—their heads were bent over the table, probably going over something dealing with the case, Jenna guessed.

He was there. She had known he would be, but seeing him was still—

He wore a grey suit with a red tie—his dark hair neatly combed. The Bailiff, the one who had sworn her in earlier, led him into the courtroom. Gary sat down next to a portly man with thinning grey hair—Jenna guessed that was part of his defense team. Suddenly Gary looked up—his eyes focusing on the monitor—directly on her.

‘He can see me—oh God—’ Jenna felt paralyzed—his eyes were so icy—she couldn’t look away—her heartbeat echoed in her ears, drowning out all other noises. Gary’s lips turned up in a faint smile.

“He looks so small from here, doesn’t he?”  Dad’s voice sounded right next to her ear.

“Yeah,” Jenna managed to speak. “He does, it’s just—he still scares me. I try not to be but I still am.”

“Well that’s normal, munchkin.”  Dad took her hand. “Just remember this time you’re not facing him alone.”

“And I’m in control—right?”  Jenna asked.

“That’s right.” 

“He can’t hear us—can he?” 

“No,” Dad told her. “Not yet.” 

Jenna looked at him again. Down at him—this time she was the one looking down—and actually that felt pretty good.  Dad gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. 

“We’re ready to go,” someone said.  “Five—four—three—”

‘Too late to turn back now,’ Jenna watched the monitor as the judge approached the bench and sat down. .

“All rise,”  The Bailiff said. Jenna wondered if she should rise too—Mr. Dutton looked at her and shook his head. “The Preliminary Hearing in the matter of Johnston versus the Commonwealth of Virginia is called to order. The Honorable Judge Watson presiding. The parties have been sworn in, Your Honor.”

“You may be seated,” the Judge said.  “I will now hear the opening statements. Mr. Welling?” 

Mr. Welling cleared his throat.  “Your Honor, I have evidence here that  on the morning of January 26, 2001, Gary Johnston forcefully abducted eleven-year-old Jenna Leigh Stetson from her home, and that two days later he physically assaulted her—an assault which could’ve easily resulted in her murder, which was his intent. We intend to present both testimonial and forensic evidence which proves probable cause for our assertions—and should result in this case being certified to a Grand Jury.  Thank you.” 

“Mr. Barker?”  The judge said.

The man beside Gary Johnston stood.  “Your honor—what happened here, while undoubtedly a terrifying experience for young Miss Stetson, was a clear case of mistaken identity, for which my client is very remorseful. Furthermore—the charges of an assault which may have led to murder is a completely spurious charge. We hold that there is not sufficient evidence to certify this case to a grand jury—and we move for the charges to be dropped and call for the immediate release of Gary Johnston, who is not only an elected councilman, but a respected member of the community. Thank you.” 

“Thank you,” the Judge said. “I will now hear the case for the prosecution.”  

“Your honor, the prosecution would like to call Jenna Leigh Stetson to the stand,” Mr. Welling said. “Miss Stetson is testifying via two-way closed circuit television, and will be questioned by Mr. Dutton, the Commonwealth’s Attorney.” 

It was here—Jenna drew in a deep breath and slowly released it as Mr. Dutton turned to face her. 

“Jenna, can you tell us in your own words what happened to you on the morning of January 26?” 

“Yes,” Jenna said. “I was walking home from school—we had let out early because of the snow.” 

“I see,” Mr. Dutton nodded.  “About what time was that? “

“Well we let out at eleven, and it usually takes about fifteen minutes to walk home.” 

“So, some time between eleven and twelve.” 

“Yes.” 

“Was anyone with you?” 

“My friend Lisa was there for a little bit, but then she needed to get home so she left.”

“When did she leave you?”

“About a block from my house—I thought since it was only a block it would be okay.” 

“That makes sense. So you walked the rest of the way home by yourself, is that correct?” 

So far this seemed pretty easy—Jenna let herself relax a bit.  “That’s correct.” 

“Did you see anything or anyone while you were walking?”  

“Yes—I saw a black van.”  

Mr. Welling broke in.  “Your Honor, we have evidence here showing that Gary Johnston is listed as the owner of a 1997 Ford Econoline Van, Color Black, with tinted windows and License Plate WRD 7173. We also have forensic evidence which places Jenna Stetson at that scene, and that her hair was cut and dyed there.” Jenna watched the monitor as Mr. Welling handed the bailiff a stack of papers, which the bailiff gave to the judge.  There was silence—Jenna heard papers rustling. 

“Thank you Mr. Welling,” the judge replied. “Mr. Dutton, please continue.” 

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mr. Dutton said.  “Jenna, was the black van driving towards you or away from you?” 

“Away from me.”

“Was there anything else you noticed about the van?” 

“Only that the lights were on.” 

“I see. And why didn’t you notice anything else?” 

“I was cold—I just wanted to get inside where it was warm.” 

“Tell me what happened next.” 

“I got inside the house, hung up my backpack and called out to my Mom.” 

“Did she answer?” 

“No.”

“What happened next?” 

“I—someone grabbed me from behind—put a cloth over my face.” Jenna could hear a slight tremble in her voice. She tried not to focus on the monitor, but it didn’t matter—she could feel Gary’s eyes—she knew he would be looking at her.

“What kind of a cloth?” 

“It was white—it smelled strange—a sweet smell.” 

“Did you try to get away?” 

“I tried to, but he was too strong—everything got blurry and I passed out.” 

“And who was the man who took you?”

“Gary Johnston.” 

“That man right there?”  Mr. Dutton asked. “You’re certain of that?”

She had to look—Jenna breathed deeply and evenly as she focused on his face on the monitor. For a moment she flashed back to the nightmare—there she’d been frozen, unable to move or speak—but now—

“I’m certain,”  Jenna was surprised by the strength in her own voice.  “Gary Johnston was the one who kidnapped me.” 

“At this time, Your Honor—we would like to introduce forensic evidence proving that chloroform was used in the doorway of 4247 Maplewood Drive,” Mr. Welling said. “And also the toxicology results, which show that Jenna had traces of that same drug in her bloodstream.”  More evidence—more rustling papers—maybe it was just nerves but it seemed like an eternity before the Judge spoke again, ordering Mr. Dutton to continue. 

“When you woke up, Jenna—where exactly were you?”  Mr. Dutton asked.

“I was in a bedroom—not my own bedroom.”  Mr. Dutton didn’t say anything, so Jenna just continued. “I was locked in there—the door was locked and the windows were boarded shut—I tried to get out and I couldn’t.”  

“And was the bedroom inside Gary Johnston’s home?” 

“Yes it was.”  

“How long were you held there?” 

“From Friday to Saturday night.” 

“Did Mr. Johnston visit you during that time?” 

“Yes.” 

“How many times?” 

“Once.”

“Did he assault you physically during that time?” 

“Yes—he hit me, twice.” 

“And why did he hit you, exactly?” 

“Because I said that my name was Jenna Leigh Stetson, not Marcie Ann Johnston.”

“He wanted you to say that your name was Marcie Johnston?” 

“Yes.”  

“Did you comply?” 

“Yes—I didn’t want to be hit again.” 

Mr. Dutton nodded. “Perfectly understandable. Did Mr. Johnston feed you during that time?” 

“There was dinner on Friday night—he wanted me to eat but I felt too sick.” 

“What did he do when you didn’t want to eat?” 

“He kicked the tray—everything broke and splattered on the wall.”  Looking at the monitor Jenna saw Gary shake his head and speak to the man beside him.  What were they saying? A cold feeling began to grow inside her gut.  Dad had her hand now—he squeezed.

“Did he give you anything else to eat or drink during that time?” 

“He gave me a glass of water.” 

“I see. And what happened when you drank the water?” 

“I felt dizzy—I passed out on the bed.” 

“Passed out?  Do you think the water was drugged?”  

Jenna nodded. “I do.”  

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because I suddenly felt so dizzy and tired—and when I woke up later, I saw white stuff in the bottom of the glass.”  

“Like a powder?” 

“Yes—it was stuck to the bottom.” 

“Your Honor, if you look at the toxicology report you will see that there was a large amount of Chloral Hydrate in her bloodstream—so large that it had to have been used at least twice.”

“Why at least twice, Mr. Welling?”  the Judge asked. 

“Because if she’d been given that large of a dosage all at once, it would’ve killed her.” 

“Noted, Mr. Welling,” the Judge said.  “Mr. Dutton, please continue.”  

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mr. Dutton said, turning back to Jenna.  “Did you make any escape attempt during that time?” 

“I made one attempt.” 

“How did you try to escape?” 

“I stuck a napkin the door so it wouldn’t lock—after I woke up from the drug it was ten o’clock at night—I went downstairs, took his cell phone and left.” 

“Why did you take his cell phone?”

“So I could call for help.” 

“Were you able to make that call?” 

“Yes—I called my Dad and told him where I was.” 

“But your escape attempt was not successful, was it?” 

“No,” Jenna could hear a slight tremor in her voice. She fought to keep it under control. “He found me, took the phone, told me to come inside. I stabbed his arm with a fork that I’d found earlier and ran, but he tackled me from behind—he had a gun and dragged me back inside.” 

“He held a gun on you?” 

“He had held a gun on me before—back in the bedroom, before he hit me, but it was different this time.”

“In what way was it different?” 

Jenna could feel Gary’s gaze on her. “This time he was really going to shoot me.”

“And did he shoot you?” 

“No—Suzanne, his wife—she stopped him—he shot her instead.” 

The man seated beside Gary Johnston—Mr. Barker—stood. “Objection, Your Honor—I’d like to point out that at this juncture our client is not being charged with the shooting of Suzanne Johnston, since she has refused to press charges or identify her assailant. I move that this statement be stricken from the record.” 

“Your honor, these are merely Miss Stetson’s recollections and intended to show Mr. Johnston’s clear intent to murder this girl,” Mr. Welling replied. “It is not about what Mr. Johnston may or may not have done to his wife.” 

“Noted. Objection overruled.”  The Judge said. “Mr. Dutton?”

“Thank you, your honor.”  Mr. Dutton said.  “Jenna—did Mr. Johnston shoot you?”  

“No—he hit me on the forehead with the gun and knocked me out.” 

“Did you lose consciousness?” 

“Yes.” 

“For how long?” 

“I don’t know—everything kept going in and out.” 

“When you came back to consciousness where were you?” 

“In the back seat of a car—Gary was leaning over me—I could feel his breath on my face.” 

“What did Gary do?” 

Gary was smiling now—oh God—he was enjoying this.  Dad’s grip tightened on her hand.  “He—um—he forced me to drink something—he squeezed my nose and I had to open my mouth and he poured it down my throat—it was bitter—it tasted really bad.” 

“Do you think it was a drug?” 

“Yes.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because it made me feel sick—like everything was spinning.”  

“Tell me what he did next,” Mr. Dutton said. 

“He grabbed my wrist, twisted it—he took off my watch and said I wouldn’t need it where I was going—then he took a knife—” Jenna could feel tears on her face—she hadn’t expected this to affect her this strongly—not after all the practice. But despite the tears her voice stayed steady. “He took a knife and he cut off my belt—said that he didn’t want anything to identify me.” 

“What do you think he meant by that?” 

Jenna brushed at her eyes with her hand. “That he was going to kill me—he didn’t want anything that would identify my body.” 

“Miss Stetson, would you like a moment or two to compose yourself?” The judge asked kindly.

“No—Your Honor—I’m fine.” 

“Let’s continue, Jenna,” Mr. Dutton said. “Tell me what happened next.” 

“I told him to stop—he told me to listen to my father—I said he wasn’t my father and he put his hands on my stomach.” 

“Where on your stomach?” 

“Right here—” Jenna put her hands below her ribs. “Both of his hands—he said he was going to teach me a lesson about my name and he—” deep breath in, slow breath out—Gary’s grin widened and Dad gave her hand another squeeze. “He pressed down on my ribs—he wouldn’t stop until I said my name was Marcie Ann Johnston.” 

“And at that time your ribs were already bruised, weren’t they?” 

“They hurt—from when Gary had tackled me after I tried to run.”

“Meaning that any pressure to the area would’ve produced severe pain and breathing difficulties. Thank you, Miss Stetson,” Mr. Dutton said. “No more questions.” 

Jenna let out a silent sigh of relief. At least that part was over—she could relax—

Then her gaze focused on Mr. Baylor—and her stomach sank.

It wasn’t over yet.

“Your honor,” Again Mr. Welling stood.  “I would like to provide further evidence—the belt and the watch, found just outside  Front Royal, which is located between Arlington and High Knob Lake where Miss Stetson was rescued. Forensic tests show that Gary Johnston’s knife cut the belt. We also have photos and x-rays of Jenna’s chest injury—showing a pattern of bruising on her lower chest resembling handprints and a small hairline fracture to the sternum sustained at this time. When combined with a severe head injury and the drugs, these things show a reckless disregard for Miss Stetson’s life—pointing to a charge of attempted murder.” 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Welling,” the Judge said. “Your witness, Mr. Baylor.” 

Mr. Baylor had been on the phone while she’d been testifying, Jenna realized—probably talking to the other lawyer. He put down the receiver.

“Thank you, your honor.” Mr. Baylor smiled at her—for some reason Jenna was reminded of Gary Johnston’s smile—it didn’t seem real—it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hello, Jenna.”  He said.

“Hello.” 

“You were allegedly kidnapped on January 26th, correct?”

“I was kidnapped on January 26th.”  

“And you just turned twelve on the thirtieth of that month, correct?” 

What was he getting at, exactly?  “Yes.”  

“And yet despite the tears, you seem remarkably self-assured for someone your age. Are you sure that no one has been coaching you?”

“Coaching me?”  Jenna repeated.

“Telling you what to say.”  

Had they?  Jenna thought back—people had been helping her—but no one had been actually telling her what to say or how to say things. “No, sir,” she said. “No one has been coaching me.” 

“I see.”  Mr. Baylor nodded.  “But you have had therapy, haven’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why exactly was that?” 

“I was having nightmares and flashbacks—I was afraid all of the time.” 

“I see. Describe to me exactly what a flashback is like.”

“It’s like—something—a smell, a sound, a picture—it brings back a memory and makes you feel like it’s happening all over again.” 

“That does sound quite frightening,” Mr. Baylor said. “So then you went to a therapist—a Dr. Pfaff?”  

“That’s right.” 

“And what did he do, exactly?”

“Talked with me—got me to talk about what happened to me without being so afraid.” 

“And that made things better?” 

“Yes it did—it made things much better.” 

“Glad to hear it, Miss Stetson—but you’re not being completely honest with us, are you?” 

Breathe—Jenna fought to stay calm. “What do you mean?” 

Mr. Baylor stood slowly, uncoiling his lean form—Jenna found herself thinking of a snake—her grip tightened on the armrest as he moved towards her. Dad gripped her other hand even more tightly. Looking over at her father Jenna could see the knot that had formed in his jaw.

“I mean, that Dr. Pfaff hypnotized you.”

“Yes,” Jenna said. “But I—I don’t see how—”

“In fact, your testimony of the scene in the car with Gary was brought out under hypnosis, wasn’t it?” 

“It was. I was blocking it.”

“Why were you blocking it?” 

“It was too scary to think about.”

“The memory is a tricky thing—it’s been proven that where gaps exist the imagination can fill in those gaps—especially under hypnosis.” 

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t think I did that.” 

“You had sustained a serious head injury, Miss Stetson. Head injuries can cause memory loss—did you know that?” 

“I knew that—but—”

“Your entire account of what happened to you in the car could be completely fabricated.” 

Stay calm—Mr. Dutton was on one side, her father on the other—they wouldn’t let anything happen to her. “It wasn’t—even before I was hypnotized, I had dreamed about it.” 

“Dreamed about it?”  Mr. Baylor moved even closer. Jenna’s heart began to race wildly. “You actually think a dream is credible?” 

“It wasn’t just a dream—”

“Yes or No, Jenna—you had no memory of this supposed event before the hypnosis session.” 

“It’s not a yes or no question—I  believe that my nightmare was about a real event—and there’s other evidence that proves it.” 

“That other evidence could point to a variety of things.” 

“No sir, it couldn’t.” 

“Gary Johnston could’ve simply been a confused man who mistook you for his own daughter—a girl who had either run away or been kidnapped herself.  Are you willing to admit that?”  Without warning he leaned forward. “Are you willing to admit this might have been a gross misunderstanding?”

He’s not here to hurt you—it’s not personal—you’re safe—stay calm— All of that ran through Jenna’s mind as she forced herself to breathe normally—she looked up into Mr. Baylor’s face. 

“No, sir—I’m not. It really did happen—I know it did,” she said. “And it was horrible—I don’t think I imagined it at all.” 

“Your Honor—at this time,” Mr. Baylor said. “I would like to move that this part of Miss Stetson’s testimony be removed from evidence and stricken from the record. Virginia law does not permit evidence obtained under hypnotic suggestion.” 

“Incorrect, Your Honor.”  Mr. Dutton rose from the table. “Evidence obtained under hypnosis is allowed providing it is supported by corroborating evidence—I think that we’ve proven that in this particular instance.” 

The judge was silent for a few moments. “I agree. The objection is overruled. Please continue, Mr. Baylor.” 

“No more questions, your honor.”  Mr. Baylor returned to his seat. 

No more questions. Jenna let out a breath—she hadn’t even realized that she was holding her breath until that moment. Her heart pounded, legs shaking—her clothes stuck to her—she sagged back limply into the chair, feeling like a dishcloth that had been twisted and wrung out until it had nothing left to give. 

“Any evidence that your team wishes to provide?” 

Mr. Barker stood up. “No evidence, Your Honor.” 

“Very well—this court is adjourned for a five minute recess, after which I will make my deliberation.”

“That went extremely well,” Mr. Dutton told Jenna. 

“He’s right, munchkin,” Dad told her. “You did a great job.” 

“Thanks,” Jenna said. “I—I mean I—” she looked down at her hands, which were shaking visibly—tears pricked her eyes—more tears— “I’m sorry—I don’t know what’s wrong—wrong with me.”

“Jenna—look at me.”  Dad’s voice was very calm. “Nothing’s wrong with you, okay? You’re just having a little rush of adrenaline. Just keep breathing—you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” 

Keep breathing—after a few minutes Jenna began to feel calmer and less shaky.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t apologize—you did a great job—you should be proud of yourself.” 

“All rise, court is back in session,” the Bailiff said.

“Be seated,” the Judge said.  “I will now give my deliberation. Given Miss Stetson’s testimony, as well as the evidence that has been presented to me, I would say that the prosecution has more than proven probable cause for the crimes of kidnapping and attempted murder.  I therefore certify this case to move to the Grand Jury, where a trial date will be set.” 

Again, Mr. Barker stood.  “Your honor, at this time I would like to request that bail be set for my client.” 

Bail—Jenna had never thought about bail—Dad gripped her hand tightly as everything seemed to freeze for a moment. 

“Given the gravity of these offenses, bail is denied, Mr. Barker.”  The Judge said. “That is all—court is dismissed.” 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“Sweetheart,” Mom was the first one there as Jenna stepped out of the courtroom into—her arms wrapped around her tightly. “You did wonderfully—we’re all so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”  No sooner did Mom release her than Grandma wrapped her in another hug

“Darling—that was just fantastic—you really stood up to that creep of a lawyer.”  She pulled back and looked at her. “No more stage fright?” 

Jenna shook her head and smiled. “No—not any more.”  

“Did you picture everyone in their underwear?” 

“Grandma!”  Jenna said. Grandma just laughed. 

“That was awesome,” Jamie told her. “I knew you could do it.” 

“See? You even got the wormbrain’s endorsement,” Phillip said.

“Phillip,” Mom admonished, but she was smiling.

“It’s still only the first step, though,” Jenna said.  “That’s what Mr. Dutton said—there’s still the trial.”

“That is what I said,” Mr. Dutton walked up to them, the rest of the team following. “But I’m telling you, Jenna—if you do as well in the trial as you did here—the trial will go very well.” 

“You’ll do it, Jenna,” Dad told her. “Look how well you came through all of this.” 

“I second that bet.”  Billy spoke up. “This calls for a celebration. What do you say we all meet at the Olive Garden this evening? My treat.”

Jenna’s smile widened. “I second that too.”  

The End.