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“Please, sir, sit back down,” said a thoroughly confused Ambrose.
DuBose turned to Hanover. “She’s actually not entitled to a lawyer, because she has not been arrested and charged with any crime. Yet.”
“Then she’ll plead the Fifth. Christine, honey, just take the Fifth Amendment.” Hanover glared at Ambrose. “Judge, this is a mockery. She is not saying another word. This is a disgusting trick... I have never. I...” When Ambrose said nothing, Hanover seemed to lose all energy and fell back into his seat, breathing heavily, the sweat glistening on his forehead.
DuBose turned back to Christine. “Your husband is right, Mrs. Hanover. You are entitled to plead the Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination if you believe that what you might say in answer to my questions could implicate you in a crime.” She looked at Jerome and Pearl. “Mr. Battle offered a plea deal to the defendants. A maximum of ten years in prison on a manslaughter charge for Mr. Washington, and in return Mrs. Washington gets to go free. Mr. Washington wishes to accept that offer, though he did not kill the Randolphs, in order for his wife to be able to return to their three young children. I just thought you might want to know that because it could possibly influence whether you want to tell us the truth, or plead the Fifth.”
Christine looked at the Washingtons, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head.
DuBose handed her a tissue, which Christine used to wipe her eyes. “Mrs. Hanover, are you going to plead the Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination?”
Christine’s gaze once more flitted around the courtroom until it came to rest on Jeff Lee. Seeing him seemed to calm and steady her. She tucked the tissue away in her jacket cuff, wiped her eyes clear, and shook her head. Composing herself she said, “No, I’m not.”
“Christine!” called out her husband, but she put her hand up.
“It’s all right, Gordon. It’s... time the truth finally came out.” She looked at the Washingtons and said, “I’m so, so very sorry for everything you’ve gone through.” She turned back to DuBose and began.
CHAPTER 90
CHRISTINE SAID, “I WASN’T TRUTHFUL before. I knew that my mother was planning to divorce my father. She couldn’t take the abuse anymore. I actually encouraged my mother to do so. I didn’t want... anything bad to happen.” A sob escaped her throat.
“And she phoned you on the afternoon of June fourteenth?” said DuBose.
“Yes. My father had found out what my mother was planning. She was afraid because he was so very angry. He had struck her already that day. She asked me to come over. So I did.”
“And there was no one there, other than Jerome?”
“I knew the maid left at two. I didn’t know Jerome’s hours, or where he was. I wasn’t even thinking about that. I just hurried over to try and defuse the situation. I had planned on having my mother come back to my house with me for the time being.”
“Then what happened when you got there?”
Now Christine showed visible signs of distress. “I walked into that room... and... my... my mother... was...” She let out another sob.
“She was dead?” said DuBose, her own voice now cracking, as the other woman’s misery seemed to bleed into her.
Christine rested her head on the rail of the box and slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“And your father?”
She lifted her head, her face littered with tears. “He... that damn old bayonet. He had... Blood was everywhere.” She let out a low moan. “My mother was... on the floor. Her... head and neck were...”
“Yes, we know. You don’t have talk about that,” DuBose said quietly.
Christine abruptly sat straight up and let out a long, violent gasp. “My father was out of his mind.”
“He had killed her?”
“Yes.”
“And he struck the picture of them that was on the table, didn’t he? Cutting their faces in the photo?”
She nodded. “It was taken when they were courting. I guess he... he...”
“Yes, I understand.”
Christine clutched the sides of the witness box. “He looked at me and then he started screaming. That my mother had told him that I knew about the divorce, that I wanted her to get one. That I had betrayed him... that... he was going to do to me what he had done to her. He rushed at me with...” She closed her eyes and the tears seeped out. “I picked up a book and hit his hand with it. The bayonet fell to the floor. I... I managed to grab it. We struggled. He was stronger than I was, but after I saw what he had done to my poor mother, I knew I was fighting for my life.” Her features screwed up as she moaned, “And I hated him for what he had done to her. And I just wanted to hurt him. To make him feel—”
“Christine!” bellowed her husband. “Please, don’t say another word, honey.”
