The Presumption of Guilt

"Come on, they disappeared in March. It's October now."

"Do you think it will rain today? It's been very dry since those spring and summer storms. With my flower beds gone, I'm going to need to replant my bulbs if I want flowers this spring. Still, I'm better off than those people around the Schoharie Creek," I said referring to the flooding by the creek.

My companions at Denny's had no consideration for flood victims or flowers. They were interested in one thing only. They wanted my confession in the worst way because ultimately, they had actually no evidence. The problem was I knew that condition could change as rapidly as a creek could flood.

"I wouldn't expect to see spring flowers if I were you, but It will go easier on you if you help us out here. We know You had a good reason for what you did. Maybe you just lost your head. Stop being a lawyer for once and be a man. Take responsibility, and we can help you."

"I don't think it will rain. It seems like we're in for a dry spell after all the wet weather. I'll swing by Lowes for some bulbs."

"Ok, have it your way lawyer, but cop killers get fried in this state. You might want to think hard on that."

*****

December Ninth

I had the day from hell. We got the call early. Five kids in need of protection. I don't work child protection usually. However, it's our busy season and the time of year when we go short-handed. Between a bad flu season and people needing time for the holidays, there was a need to be flexible. Still, five children under seven needing emergency care was a bad day.

They were all traumatized. They had just seen their mother beaten nearly to death, by the man they had been calling father. He was related by blood to only two, but still, he was someone they looked to for protection, and he had betrayed them. I didn't want to split them up, or put them into a county facility for Christmas, but what could be done?

About noon, I found a couple in their early sixties who had raised their own kids and were still in great physical shape. Both were recent state retirees who were chafing under the loss of purpose in their lives. The wife was a nurse and the husband a highway engineer. By four o'clock we had the kids placed temporarily and a support system in place for the new foster parents.

I was feeling pretty good when the State DSS called to say that they were not happy with the placement. It was the same old BS you always get from the state. The welfare of the kids was less important than some rule interpretation they had decided upon. If you can believe it, they were concerned that the child care payment was being made to individuals on the state retirement system.

"This could be considered double dipping," the woman from the state said.

For an hour we went around and around on this issue. It went all the way up to the County Executive and The State DSS commissioner. Just when I thought the placement would fall through, I heard from the prospective foster parents.

"When will the kids be here?" the woman asked, "We have everything ready. Two of my daughters are here to help out."

"Well, you see the state is concerned that the foster child payments will not be permissible since you are receiving a state pension," I said.

What was said next was spoken in true anger. "Well, you tell that SOB of a governor to keep his lousy payment. Just send those kids."

When the County executive heard this, she laughed and said, "Well, send the kids. We can always sue the state later for the money."

It took me another three hours to get the kids to their new foster home and settled in. By the time I could head home it was almost eight and near nine before I arrived. First thing, I took a hot shower. I debated calling Bruce. Sometimes when I call him, we can speak for hours, but other times he is clearly pressed for time. I get the impression that his clients can be quite demanding. Usually, I try to wait for him to call, but tonight I just needed to tell someone about my day.

I had my terry cloth robe on and was just about to call Bruce when the doorbell rang. I pulled my robe tight and went to the door. I opened it on the chain. Paul was standing there looking oh so good and just a little guilty.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I replied.

"I know your husband is out of town again. You are all alone. All I ask is to come in and socialize. Maybe a cup of coffee and some conversation."

"I can't," I said.

"You can trust me," he said.

"It's not you I don't trust. It's me."

"Please just a few minutes."

I don't know why I let him in, but I did. I made us coffee and sat down with him at the opposite end of our large sectional couch. I pulled my robe hem down as I sat. It was an ample garment, but way too short to be comfortable in this situation.

"Relax," he said, "I'm not here to take advantage of you. I'm here as a friend. I heard through the grapevine you had one hell of a day."

"Yes," I replied, and we proceeded to discuss my day, and it did relax me. I told myself there was nothing wrong here with two acquaintances sitting and having a drink. We did switch from coffee to wine and shared some frozen pizza for dinner.

It must have been close to midnight when he said what he must have come for, "Elaine, I will always be your friend, but you have to know that I feel a passion for you that I can only describe as love."

At this, I shifted nervously.

"Please," he said "Let me finish. Right now, your husband is in New York meeting with organized crime figures and their personal anti surveillance expert. They are planning how to defeat the government wiretapping program. These are evil men, and he is helping them evade justice."

"Stop, I won't listen to this. It's not fair. Bruce isn't here to defend himself."

"You're very loyal but is it fair to you to be tied to such a man. As I followed you and fell in love with you, I learned what a wonderful and caring woman you are. Your life is helping others. You're a saint married to a devil. But, I want you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what."

We had been moving ever closer on the couch during the evening as we had spoken. Before I realized it, his hands had slipped within my robe, and we were kissing. I knew that this was wrong, but as his hands caressed my bare flesh and his lips pressed against mine, I knew I couldn't hold back.

His hand slipped into my panties and soon found my all to ready sex. I was wet for him, and his touch just felt so good. As his fingers slipped within me, I gave a soft moan. We both knew where this was headed, but it was a freight train that didn't want to stop. I was helpless, and then I heard the phone ringing.

It must have been ringing for some time. Suddenly that fact clicked as did who was calling.

"Bruce," I said pushing out of Paul's grip.

It was Bruce on the phone.

"Just checking in," he said, "Sorry I must have woken you up. The time got away from me."

I pulled myself together to answer him and try to have a normal conversation. Bruce was in a talkative mood, and he went on and on. As Bruce spoke, I could look over to see Paul on the couch becoming more and more impatient. Finally, Paul gave me a sad smile and quietly left.

I had been saved by Bruce's call from committing an irreparable breach of my marriage. But, did I want to be saved? Paul's touch still burned on me. He had made me feel a passion no man had ever stirred in me before.

****

The DA's conference room had a sad last century appearance as if it hadn't changed a bit in the last twenty years, as in all probability it hadn't.

Tanya Marshall was the daughter of a former state senator. A man who had avoided prosecution and retire with enough juice to ensconce his daughter in the DA's office. As ADAs go, she was no better or worse than rest of that sorry lot who oppress the poor and defenseless and complain that the rich are able to hire defense lawyers.

"Where is your gun, Mr. Grey?" she asked," we didn't find it when we search your house."

"Gun?" I asked.

"The Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum registered to you."

"Is it missing?"

"You know it is."

"Sorry, this is the first I'm hearing. It was kept in the top drawer of my bedroom nightstand. Is it really gone?"

"This would go easier all around if we could be straight with each other," she said.

"Ok, you start what is the evidence your officers allegedly extracted from my residence?"

"All in good time," she said.

"Well then, I will answer your questions all in good time," I said standing up.

"In that case," she said handing me a notice of my right to appear before the grand jury. The notice was the true purpose of the meeting. I had no intention of appearing. The conclusion was a certainty. I was to be indicted on two counts of murder.

To be fair, the DA had no choice they had broken into my wife's desk and seized her diary. They knew the whole sad tale of her infidelity. Of course, in the minds of women like Tanya, it read like a love story with a tragic ending. My view was somewhat different.

It was a shame about the desk. It was a narrow little drop front, a late colonial antique. It had sat in the dealer's front window for near a year. We were newly married and with our daughter Rachael just learning to walk. Elaine was going to school part-time for her MSW in social work. I was a poor newly minted lawyer, but I loved my wife, and I knew how much she wanted that desk. She paused each time we passed that window to stare at that desk.

I put aside every penny I could find, but when I went to buy it for our anniversary, it no longer was in the window. I went into the store my heart sinking and asked for the little desk that had sat in the window. The girl behind the counter looked confused, but when she asked the manager, he indicated that it had been placed at the back of the shop.

When they delivered it to our little apartment, Elaine was overjoyed. Over the years, I would watch her at that desk and think how lucky I was to have her for my wife. Love is a funny thing. I've decided it's all about those small moments. Your wife's joy over the little antique desk, seeing my daughter's first steps, moving into our first house, and seeing my wife all proud getting her MSW. You put all the moments together, and you have something called love.

They ripped the desk draws open and found the diary. I suppose I could have left the draws unlocked, but then they might have overlooked their contents. Locking the draws gave them significance, and I needed them to take the diary. Still, the destruction of the desk hurt. Maybe it brought home that Elaine was truly lost to me.

The diary had the intended effect. Its contents soon leaked out. Pressure mounted against the DA. They had the evidence now, and the public was aware of the love plot. The unfaithful spouse and her paramour had been transformed into Romeo and Juliet.

*****

January Second

I can't do it— can I? Jenny just laughs at my hesitation.

"What's the matter with you. Your husbands out of town. You go over to his apartment, and no one is the wiser. It's as simple as that."

"How will I ever face Bruce again. I don't care what people say about him. He has always been good to me. What will I say if he finds out."

"Blame him for leaving you alone so often."

"He's really not gone that much, and when we're together—well, it's a good marriage. It's just that Paul makes me feel things I never have before."

"Like I said, Bruce won't know, and if he learns just do as I did with my Bob."

"What did you do?"

"You remember that day we came over here, and he seemed so upset."

"Yes, I remember at one point he asked if he could lie down in the bedroom, he seemed almost sick."

"Well, he discovered I had been sleeping with Paul. So, I told him all about it, and that I still loved him. I told him how there was nothing he could do about it that a man like Paul had a way with women. I think he wanted to kill the man, but he would be no match for him physically."

"You're lucky he doesn't own a gun," I said.

Moreover, I can't see Bruce taking things the way Bob did. Somehow, I feel Bruce would do something, but Jenny assured me that I was wrong. We discussed how much Bruce loved me and would have to understand just as Bob did.

I had seen Paul a half-dozen times in the past three weeks. We were never alone together, but I would see him here and there. He may have been following me, or he could have been following Bruce. My husband had been home and exceedingly attentive. We made love near every night because I was so horny, but there was no use lying to myself about it. I may have been in bed with my husband, but it was Paul I was thinking of.

Today Paul slipped me a note. It had an address and a date and time. I'm pretty sure it's his apartment address, and it's for a day that Bruce will be in New York. I don't want to go, and yet, I know I will. I tell myself, I will go just to ask him to stop bothering me.

January Fifteenth

Oh, dear god what have I done? I spent the afternoon at Paul's apartment. It started off ok. I told him how the two of us could never be. How I could not betray my husband, but then he kissed me, and everything left my head but how much I wanted him. He pulled me into his bedroom and began to sensuously undress me. He unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off my shoulders. Then he ran his hands down my arms. He pulled my hands behind me and kissed me hard. As his tongue pushed into my mouth, he dexterously undid my bra and let it fall to the floor to join my blouse.

Still kissing me, he began to remove my skirt. He sank to his knees and began kissing my mound of Venus through my delicate lace panties. I guess those expensive panties revealed that I was not serious about my resolution not to have sex with him. Then he scooped me up and carried me to his bed. There he removed my last bits of clothing.

He started kissing me all over. His lips burned my flesh. I nearly orgasmed when he began sucking on my breast. The power this man had over me. His tongue licked down my chest and across my belly. When he reached my sex, I moaned. I'm not a talker during sex, but I began begging him to go further, to take me, to fuck me.

He was then still fully dressed, but in the blink of an eye he had shed his clothing, and I saw his magnificent body. His rock-hard abdomen and that magnificent cock. It was standing proud and so erect. So much more than my husband had to offer. I pulled him down to me and guided him into my weeping vagina where he proceeded to fill me as I had never been. It took him barely two strokes to send me over the edge into a glorious orgasm.

He proceeded to fuck me senseless. He had incredible staying power, and he recovered quickly. We made passionate love the entire afternoon and into the early evening. I came a dozen times, and he pumped his seed into me at least four times. I left crying that this could never happen again, but neither of us believed that this would be the end. As I exited his front door, I knew I would be back.

*****

Tanya's opening to the jury was well above her normal performance which is to say it was good and almost certainly the work of a ghostwriter. Her boss was sitting there with her. D.A. Silva Marks was not about to let a subordinate get all the glory, but neither was she fool enough to consider doing the work herself.

I was representing myself. Judge Bascom who was presiding warned me that an attorney who represented himself had a fool for a client. I told him it was better than having a fool for an attorney. Bascom was going to do everything possible to assure that justice was served by my conviction. He would bend over backward to help the lame prosecution, and in his instructions to the jury turn the concept of reasonable doubt into something more in line with guilty until proven innocent.

For my part, my only concern was that someone would notice that I had an ace up my sleeve and was just waiting my moment to play it. I had truth on my side, but they had the romantic Romeo and Juliet story. The lovers were a police officer and my social worker wife. The villain of the piece was me whether I was innocent or not. Life is not fair, and justice is rarely to be found in a courtroom.

"Sergeant McVey, you opened the trunk of the defendant's car?" Tanya asked her first witness.

"Yes, I was immediately suspicious of the car. It was an older brown Toyota Camry. This is not the kind of car you expect a high-priced attorney to be driving, but it is very nondescript and has a large trunk capacity."

"I see," Tanya said looking toward the jury with a smile that said, "see how devious the defendant is."

"What, if anything, did you find in the trunk?" Tanya asked.

"It seemed to have been recently cleaned, but we were able to recover hair and fibers that were consistent with both Officer Paul Moreno and Elaine Grey."

"So, their bodies could have been placed in the trunk?"

"Objection the question calls for speculation," I said.

"No, the witness is an expert and is merely being asked his opinion. Overruled, the witness may answer," Judge Bascom said.

And, so, it went. Sergeant McVey happily explained to the jury how in his opinion I had transported and disposed of the bodies of my wife and her lover.

On cross, I asked, "Sergeant, if the bodies were transported in the Camry what happened to the bright blue Ford Mustang Shelby 500 GT."

"I'm not clear what you are referring to?"

"Paul Moreno's car. His stud mobile, it's nowhere to be found."

"I'm sure I don't know about that," McVey replied.

"But, you do know his car is missing, and that car is anything but nondescript," I said more to the jury then McVey.

"Yes, Paul's car is missing."

"Turning back to the Camry. You broke in but tell me why not use the keys in the ignition?"

"We probably didn't see them."

"Really, but didn't you use them to open the trunk earlier?"

McVey looked stunned for a second, but before he could stutter a response, Tanya was on her feet objecting, "the question is argumentative and assumes facts not in evidence."

She was sustained, of course, no point in letting the facts in.

She followed McVey to the stand with Senior Crime Scene Investigator Kim Eng. He told the tale of pulling up my basement carpet and finding traces of blood beneath.

"Could you identify this blood by type or DNA," Tanya solemnly asked.

"No, it was too degraded. There was a strong smell of bleach in the basement which is why I suspected we would find blood trace. Bleach is often used to remove blood stains."

When I had him on cross I had just a few questions," Investigator Eng, the basement contained the home laundry, did it not?"

"Yes."

"You would expect to find bleach in the laundry, would you not?"

"I couldn't say. I expect it would depend on the personal preferences of the person doing the laundry."

The seven women on the jury didn't quite agree with Mr. Eng, but now it was time for the real show to start with the reading of my wife's diary.

*****

January Sixteenth

I'm at once guilty and floating on a cloud. I can't stop thinking about Paul. His magnificent body and how he made me feel. Yet at the same time, I feel so guilty about Bruce. I wish for the first time I could believe all those terrible things people say about him, but I know they are untrue.

Bruce has always shown his love for me, and I have repaid him with the worst kind of betrayal. Somehow, I feel that my terrible sin must show that Bruce looking at me will know what I have done to him—to us. The very desk I write this on was a present from Bruce. It was purchased at a time when we had little money. It is a genuine antique. I had seen it in a shop window but knew there was no way we could afford it.