“Tatum, I don’t think you’re understanding my question.” He pauses and even if I’m mad at her, him not letting her speak is pissing me off even more than I already am. “When the two of you met for the first time, what was he doing?”
I know what he wants her to say. She doesn’t answer, just continues to look down at her hands.
“Tate, answer the question.”
In any other situation, I know I would find her glare that she just looks back up at him with would make me laugh. Everyone in this courtroom can see that she’s telling him to go fuck himself.
“Fine. How about this, is it or is it not true that when you first met, he was holding you at gunpoint?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s not though. It’s a simple yes or no answer. So again, when you first met Mr. Anderson, was he, or was it not holding you up at gunpoint?”
“Yes.”
“And have you not witnessed him holding a knife to someone’s throat?”
“Yes.” She looks down at her feet, ashamed at what she’s saying. And she fucking should, because the only goddamn way he would know any of that is if she had already told him. “But…”
“And he’s even made threats towards your husband, who is a detective with the Sonston’s End police department, correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“There isn’t a ‘but’, it’s a pattern of violent behavior that you cannot deny and it shows that he will harm law enforcement.” He cuts her off again and then looks up at the judge. “I have no further questions.” And this motherfucker looks up at me with a goddamn smirk on his face as he walks back over to his table.
?
I can’t look at Zane as I walk back into the room. I know that the next round of questions is going to be more invasive. I know that Sherri’s coming up and even if she and I had discussed all of this, it’s still going to be pretty personal for me to share.
And all the questions, well, they’re all a part of the plan.
And Zane is going to be pissed.
“Hi, Ms. Mosby.” I nod to Sherri, and she smiles. “Now, there are parts of your testimony that Mr. Clayton wouldn’t let you get to.”
“Yes.” I slowly nod my head.
“If you want, finish.”
“Okay.” I nod my head, still looking down. “Yes, when I first met Mr. Anderson, he was pointing a gun at me. But it was a week after someone had shot and killed his parents and I accidentally stumbled onto the property. He lowered it pretty quickly and then offered to drive me home.”
“But you didn’t go home, did you?”
“No. I stayed at his house for at least a week.”
She nods her head. “And with regard to the knife.”
“Yes, I have seen him hold a knife on someone, but that was only because, as he would tell you, I have a terrible taste in men.”
A couple jurors chuckle to themselves as well as many of the audience.
“And why is that?”
“A nice way to say it is that the man he had threatened with a knife was attempting to violate my space.”
“So, he was protecting you.”
“Yes.”
