“He loved that boy,” she said. “You could tell. He wasn’t always on time—he worked construction—but when he was there he was gentle with him. Helped him with his coat, tied his shoes. Got down on his level when he talked to him.”
“Did you ever see Mr. Mercer strike Davie?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Yell at him? Scare him?”
“No, ma’am,” she said. “Not once. If Davie was upset, he’d pick him up and talk soft to him ’til he calmed down.”
“Did you ever see Mr. Mercer come to the school under the influence of drugs or alcohol?”
“Never,” Jenna said firmly.
“Did you ever have concerns that Davie was unsafe with his father?”
She shook her head.
“No, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Ms. Collins,” Eleanor said. “No further questions.”
Reid rose.
“Ms. Collins,” he said, “you cared about Davie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You still do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You also knew his mother, Caroline.”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever express fear of Mr. Mercer to you?”
Jenna hesitated.
“She said he could be… intense,” she replied. “She worried about his temper when it came to Davie. She didn’t want him growing up around shouting and slammed doors.”
“Did she ever tell you she planned to move away?”
“Yes,” Jenna said softly. “She told me she was looking at rental places in Knoxville. Said she thought it’d be better for Davie to have a fresh start.”
“Did she say why?”
“Because of the fighting,” Jenna said. “She said she and David couldn’t seem to stop.”
“Thank you,” Reid said. “No further questions.”
Jenna stepped down, pausing only long enough to look at David like she was still trying to reconcile the man she remembered with the one sitting at the defense table.
Eleanor watched the jurors again.
They had heard one more version of the same story: a man who loved his son, a woman who feared what his anger might become.
Two things could be true at once.
