Guilt by Association (61 page)

“And the jury was just eating it all up,” Felicity said.

“Because, deep down in their hearts, they want to believe him,” Demelza observed. “They want any excuse to acquit him.”

“The sad truth is,” Ione commented with a sigh, “you don’t have to know how to govern to get elected in this country— you just have to know how to lie.”

The senator sat next to his wife on a rich leather sofa in the dignified Willmont library that had been his father’s favorite room, the unblinking television lights illuminating every wrinkle, every blemish.

“One might be able to fool a live audience,” he said wryly, “but it’s impossible to lie to a camera, isn’t it?”

“Were you thinking of lying?” Janice asked from the sofa facing him.

“No,” he replied simply. “I was just wondering why so many people think they can get away with it.”

The newswoman crossed her ankles, licked her lips, and nodded to the half dozen technicians.

“The last time we spoke, Senator Willmont,” she began in her on-air voice, “you were planning for your future to be decided by the majority of voters in this country. How do you feel now—about it being decided by a handful?”

“Sad,” Robert said thoughtfully. “Sad for my family and sad for America, that such an outrageous charge was allowed to be brought into court in the first place. But I also feel confident—confident that this jury is not going to let itself be taken in by so blatant an attempt to smear me.”

“Then you think you’ll be acquitted of all charges?”

“I believe in the system,” the senator replied. “I believe that
the innocent are protected under the law. I believe the jury will exonerate me.”

“Even though your story of being attacked like a tiger by a middle-aged woman half your size sounds awfully farfetched?”

“But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Robert exclaimed earnestly. “The truth is too bizarre for me to have made it up. If I were going to lie my way out of this, I assure you I would have come up with something a lot more plausible.”

“If you are acquitted,” Janice observed, “you will in all likelihood receive the nomination for President. Do you think you’ll be elected in November?”

Robert considered for a moment. “I think so, yes,” he said with the confidence of a man who has never learned to accept rejection.

“Even though you’re a confessed adulterer?”

“I believe I may be elected in part
because
I confessed, because I didn’t deny it or try to lie to the people. I came right out and admitted my mistake, whopper though it was. There are precious few perfect people in this world, Miss Evans, and I’m obviously not one of them. There’ll be some pure souls who will feel they have to turn away from me, but I hope that most of the people will respect me for being honest about my imperfections.”

“If you are acquitted, will you sue Karen Doniger for character defamation?”

“Why?” Robert sighed. “The verdict is all that matters to me. I have no interest in humiliating the woman or her family any further. My only hope is that they use whatever money I would have won from them in a lawsuit to get her the psychiatric help she so desperately needs.”

S
enator Willmont,” Tess began on Thursday morning, the thirteenth day of the trial, “I would like to go back over certain portions of your testimony from yesterday, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind, Miss Escalante,” the senator responded with a pleasant, confident smile.

“Beginning with your glowing tribute to your marriage.”

Robert produced a boyish grin. “I could probably talk forever on that subject.”

“I don’t think forever will be necessary,” Tess replied. “I’m interested only in the basics of your relationship with your wife. You testified yesterday that you and she discuss every decision before you make it and examine every action before you take it; is that correct?”

“Yes, I said that. Yes, it’s correct.”

“Did you and your wife discuss your having sex with Karen Doniger before you had it?”

“Well, no, of course not,” Robert replied. “As I said, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Does that mean you would have discussed it with her had it not been a spur-of-the-moment thing?”

The senator sighed. “Had I stopped to think about what I
was doing that night, Miss Escalante, I wouldn’t have done it. So there would have been nothing to discuss.”

“Does that mean you and your wife have discussed your intent to commit adultery on less impulsive occasions?”

“Objection,” Sutton called. “What does it matter what he does or doesn’t discuss with his wife?”

“Your Honor,” Tess argued, “the defendant testified that he discusses everything with his wife before the fact. I’m simply trying to determine if he was telling the truth when he made that statement.”

“Your client opened the door himself, Counselor.” Judge Washington sighed. “Objection overruled. But you’re skating on thin ice, Miss Escalante. Be careful.”

“Yes, sir,” Tess agreed, returning to the witness. “One more time, sir: Have you ever discussed with your wife your intent to commit adultery?”

“I was referring, of course, to political issues when I made that statement.”

“Then the decision of whether to commit adultery is not one you discuss with your wife, but one you make on your own?”

“I don’t think that’s what I said.”

“I beg your pardon,” Tess said politely. “What did you say?”

“I said this was an isolated incident,” Robert retorted.

“By ‘isolated,’ do you mean that it was the only time you had committed adultery, or the only time you didn’t have the opportunity to discuss it beforehand with your wife?”

“You’re twisting my words,” the witness objected.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to do that, Senator,” Tess murmured. “So, let me rephrase my question. Have you ever discussed infidelity with your wife?”

“There has never been cause,” Robert Willmont declared.

“What does that mean, Senator? Are you testifying that, aside from your untimely encounter with Karen Doniger, you have never been unfaithful to your wife?”

“I’m saying that I made a mistake, Miss Escalante. One I will regret for the rest of my life. I hurt my wife, I embar
rassed my family, and I disappointed a lot of good people who believe in me. I can’t begin to say how sorry I am.”

“For what, Senator?” the ADA inquired. “Are you sorry you raped Karen Doniger—or just sorry you got caught?”

“Objection!”

“Miss Escalante,” the judge admonished.

“I withdraw the question, Your Honor,” the ADA conceded. “Prior to the night of April seventh, Senator Willmont, had you ever been unfaithful to your wife?”

“Objection!” Sutton complained. “Prosecution is badgering the witness.”

“Your Honor,” Tess argued, “this man has painted himself into a Norman Rockwell example of marital devotion and we seek only to confirm or deny its validity. The defense tried its best to portray Karen Doniger as a counterculture nutcase who hunted down the defendant like a predatory animal for no apparent reason. Shouldn’t I be allowed the same opportunity to suggest that Robert Willmont is a man of insatiable appetite who wants what he wants, and is not above taking what he wants, by force,
if necessary?”

“She has a point, Counselor,” Washington suggested. “Besides, you could have made a pre-trial motion to exclude prior behavior.
You didn’t.”

“Because it wasn’t necessary, Your Honor,” the Silver Fox explained. “Everyone knows that the senator is above reproach.”

“Then your client has nothing to worry about, does he?” the judge declared. “Objection overruled.”

“Prior to April seventh, Senator,” Tess repeated, “had you ever been unfaithful to your wife?”

Randy Neuburg and Mary Catherine O’Malley exchanged worried glances, Janice Evans slid an inch or two lower in her seat, and Elizabeth Willmont sat frozen, afraid that her carefully composed mask might crack.

Across the aisle, the Sullivan Street set held their collective breaths, and those on both sides of the gallery leaned forward just a little so as not to miss a syllable.

“I have a beautiful and loving wife,” Robert replied. “Prior to April seventh, I had no cause to be unfaithful to her.”

A sibilant sigh floated across the courtroom.

“That was slick,” Randy murmured.

“The man’s a born politician,” Mary Catherine agreed.

“He didn’t answer the question,” Felicity protested.

“You noticed,” Demelza observed.

“Hardly a direct response, Senator,” Tess suggested. “But then, I suppose we’ll have to chalk it up to your having been in Washington for so long.”

“Your Honor!” Sutton complained.

The ADA shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Don’t abuse the court’s tolerance, Miss Escalante,” the judge suggested.

“I’ll try not to, Your Honor,” Tess acquiesced, pausing a beat. “Who is Mariah?” she asked the defendant suddenly.

Randy held his breath.

Robert stiffened slightly. “If you mean Mariah Dobbs,” he replied carefully, “she’s a media consultant.”

“Someone you’ve had, or hoped to have, an affair with?”

“Certainly not.”

“I see—she’s just someone whose name you happened to cry out at the height of passion, for no particular reason?”

“Your Honor!” the Silver Fox complained.

“Yes, Mr. Sutton,” Washington agreed. “Move on, Miss Escalante.”

“Yes, sir,” Tess conceded. She took two casual steps away from the defendant. “Not including April seventh, Senator Willmont,”
she asked in a clear voice, “how many other women have you raped?”

“Objection!” the defense attorney exclaimed.

“It’s all right,” Robert declared, forestalling the judge. “I don’t mind answering the question.
Including
April seventh, Miss Escalante—none.”

“None, Senator?” Tess parried. “You mean that you never in your life had to force a woman to have sex with you? They all came to you willingly?”

“I believe they did,” the witness replied. “I wasn’t exactly
a monk before my marriage. Like most young men, I sowed my share of wild oats, and I assure you that the lovely young ladies in question, who shall naturally forever remain nameless, were all quite willing.”

“They all freely participated in consensual sex, just as you claim Karen Doniger did?”

“Yes,” Robert assured her. “They did—just as Mrs. Doniger did.”

“To sum up then, Senator: Prior to April seventh, you had never been unfaithful to your wife and, to the best of your knowledge,
you have never raped a woman. Is that your testimony?”

“It is.”

Tess smiled, the slow smile of a cat who has cornered a mouse.

In the gallery, Randy frowned uneasily.

The ADA spent the rest of her cross-examination going over the details of the night of April seventh, but her questions were now mostly routine. She already had everything she needed. The rest was just for window dressing.

“How long did you stay at campaign headquarters after Karen Doniger left?”

“I’d say about fifteen minutes.”

“And you said that, while you were there, you read the promotional packet she had prepared?”

“Yes.”

“How large was that packet?”

“Perhaps twenty pages.”

“Would it surprise you to know that the packet in fact contained almost forty pages?”

“I guess it could have.”

“Are you a speed reader, Senator?”

“No, but I can scan pretty quickly when I know what I’m looking for.”

“So it is your testimony that you spent about fifteen minutes in the office, reading, after Karen Doniger left?”

“Yes.”

“Were you in any particular hurry to leave?”

“I was tired, but not in any particular hurry.”

“Not too tired to invite Mrs. Doniger out for a drink?”

“That was a spur-of-the-moment gesture.”

“Yes, so you said. So, even though you weren’t rushing to get anywhere, you scanned almost forty pages of what you yourself considered to be a vital document and still managed to be at the parking garage in time to help Karen Doniger with her car?”

“I had no way of knowing she would still be there.”

“What would you say if I told you that the log in the lobby of your office building lists Karen Doniger as having signed out at eight-twenty-five that evening, and lists you as having signed out at eight-twenty-nine?”

“I would say that I don’t recall what time it was. In fact, I don’t normally sign the log at all.”

Tess picked up a thick ledger and approached the bench.

“Your Honor, at this time, I would like to introduce into evidence People’s exhibit seventy-five, the log book from the building where the Willmont campaign offices are located.”

Sutton jumped up and came over to authenticate.

“No objection,” he sighed. The log was genuine. His own signature was featured prominently on many of the pages.

“So entered,” Washington said.

“You’re correct about not signing the log that night, Senator,” Tess said. “The doorman has become accustomed to doing it for you, and I’m prepared to call him as a rebuttal witness, if necessary.”

The defendant and his attorney exchanged glances.

“In the interests of time, Your Honor, defense will stipulate,” the Silver Fox said.

“In that case,” Tess continued, “kindly read to the jury the first entry pertaining to you on the night of April seventh.”

“It says that I arrived at eighteen minutes past eight.”

“And the second entry?”

“It says I left the building at eight twenty-nine.”

“So, according to this log, and even assuming you took the express elevator to the twelfth floor, you could not have re
mained in the office, reading, for fifteen minutes after Karen Doniger left, could you?”

“I guess not,” Robert conceded.

“In fact, you left immediately after her, didn’t you? Probably by the very next elevator,”

“I wasn’t really paying attention. I certainly wasn’t following her, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“No, of course not,” Tess murmured, taking the log from him and placing it on the evidence table.

“How tall are you, Senator?”

“Six feet two.”