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