I Speak For This Child: True Stories of a Child Advocate (41 page)

Grace returned with a copy of the doctor’s medical report and asked if it was the one he had submitted. He certified that it was. She asked him to read his conclusions, and he did, by saying that Alicia presented history of prolonged sexual abuse, and a record of sexual activity.

“Now you are claiming that Alicia may not have had any sexual activity at all. Doesn’t that contradict what you wrote?”

“My writings refer to a history of abuse and sex as described to me by the patient. However, my physical findings are inconclusive as to whether she has ever been sexually penetrated by a man.”

With that alarming summation by the doctor, who had been an unfortunate choice as a witness for the prosecution, Grace Chandler rested the state’s case. Judge Donovan adjourned the proceedings until the next morning.

The doctor’s testimony confused me. Even if Alicia never had sexual relations with her father, she had told me enough about her affairs with boys for me to be almost certain she had been sexually penetrated. The medical examination had come early in the case, so I was not certain which of the boys she had been with before or after, but she had indicated that her father had not been the only one for several years. So how could she not have shown physical evidence after this level of experience? Later, when I discussed this with other specialists, I concluded that Dr. Leif’s examination had been less thorough than he indicated. Of course there were always possible anomalies, but I felt the doubt cast by the doctor had canceled out the “Shampooman” disclosures.

The testimony that concerned me most was Cory’s. His sea foam eyes and long droopy lashes were so winsome he was more likely to be believed than his less fetching, more disturbed brother, or even his alluring sister. I realized that I might have information about Cory that Grace Chandler might not have gleaned from official files. But would giving her help with her case mean I wasn’t properly protecting Cory? I wrestled with that quandary for a while, then decided that it was more important for Grace to have all the ammunition she needed to use against Red Stevenson.

Friday morning I had been asked to pick up Cory at his home because Mrs. Castillo couldn’t come to court until she dropped another child at school. Cory had been warned he might have to testify that day and was touchy. Since I had prepared the list of questions to discredit him, I felt like a traitor, and once again I wondered whether or not he should have been appointed a separate guardian.

Noticing him tapping his foot erratically, I asked him if he was nervous.

“Nope. I’m saying the truth.”

“Good for you.”

“Last night Dad said it would be over in a few hours and then I could go home with him.”

I explained that even if the trial was concluded that afternoon, we’d still have to hear what the jury had to say, and that might take until Monday. “Also, even if your father is free, it might take time for HRS to do the paperwork before you can go home.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that no matter what the verdict HRS might never return him to his father. But I did need to prepare him. “Even if your father had never hurt your brother or sister, I don’t think he has been a very good father in the past and I am not convinced he will make a suitable father in the future.”

“Why do you say that?” Cory challenged.

I listed many ways his father had neglected him, including not paying for medical and dental treatments, not keeping up with his part of the performance agreement, and I reminded him of his father’s violent temper.

“I thought you were supposed to be my voice and say what I wanted. What if I told you I wouldn’t live anywhere else?” he said, choking back tears. “Then would you help me?”

As we turned in the courthouse parking lot, I watched his anguished face. Then I made my decision. “Cory, if your father is not found guilty, and if you still want to live with him, I will do my best to make that possible for you.”

There was a whole new cast of characters sitting in a cluster in the rear of the courtroom: a bevy of heavyset, hard-looking women who looked like a gang of biker gals on a marshmallow diet.

One of them was Dee Smiley. She was called to the stand. Her name had been on the defense’s witness list, but I had thought that since she was the one to whom Alicia had confessed, she would have been sympathetic to the daughter and not the father.

The convenience store manager was wearing an oversize black T-shirt with a lightning bolt across her breasts, a tight, short shirt that barely covered her industrial-size chassis. Her backless heels made a slapping sound as she mounted the witness box. When she turned around after taking the oath, it was obvious she was chewing gum. Then she rotated to face the jury, waved, and said, “Hi, guys!”

The jury members, though, must have had their coffee laced with sedatives because their faces remained poker-faced.

After Dee Smiley identified herself as the manager of the convenience store closest to Stevenson Groves, Walt Hilliard asked her how she knew the Stevenson children.

“They hung out at my place. I like having kids around. I talk to them, listen to their problems,” she said in a soothing voice, one that might appeal to a child.

“Did you know all the Stevensons?”

“I got close to the oldest boy, Rich, first.”

“How did that happen?”

“I met him because of a tragedy.” Dee Smiley told of being at the creek when Rich’s friend, Sam, had drowned. She had been nearby with some smaller children, and when she heard the screams, she tried to help. After that, Rich would come by her store all hours of the day or night and talk. When asked what she thought about Rich, Dee replied, “You could tell he was a troubled youngster.”

“When was the drowning in relation to the night Alicia told you her problems?” the defense attorney asked.

“About six weeks before.”

“How did you meet Alicia Stevenson?”

“She’d come by with Rich, and then when I was friendly to her, she really lapped it up.”

“Do you recall what she told you about her father?”

“That he messed with her and she didn’t like it.”

“Did she explain what she meant by ‘messing with her’?”

“No, she just asked if I knew what that meant. I said that I did and it wasn’t right, and she said she knew that but he would continue as long as she lived in that house.”

“When did you see her again?”

“After she left the groves.”

“Where was that?”

“In the parking lot of the HRS building. I’d come to see her after the court hearing that placed her in foster care.”

“Was she alone?” Walt Hilliard asked.

“No, she was talking with her friend, Dawn.”

“Did you hear what they were saying?”

“Yes. Alicia said if she had known what would’ve happened, she wouldn’t have made up the story to get her father in trouble.”

“Did you question her about this?”

“I asked if her father had really messed with her and she said no, he hadn’t, and if her father had let her go out with a guy she liked, she never would have said anything to me.”

“Who was this person?”

“A man who worked at the motel behind the marina.”

“Was he the sort of man a father would want seeing his daughter?”

“No. He was much older, in his twenties, did drugs, didn’t have a job, and he was of a different race.”

When it was her turn, Grace Chandler confronted Dee Smiley harshly. “Have you ever been arrested in this county?”

“Yes, once.”

“What were the charges?”

She gave the prosecutor a nasty stare. “Grand theft.”

Grace then asked Dee questions about her relationship to the various children who hung out at the store. “Were you related to any of them?”

“One was my son, and one was my nephew, but the rest were kids who didn’t have anyone who cared enough to do things with them.”

Grace pursued why she would want to take on other people’s problem children. “I know how hard it is out there. I didn’t want any of them to turn into Adam Walsh’s next victim.”

I realized Mrs. Smiley had meant to say a victim like Adam Walsh, because Adam was a Florida boy who had been kidnapped, murdered, and found decapitated a few years earlier, but nobody challenged her syntax and she was asked to step down.

While the next witness was being called, I heard a flurry of voices behind me. I turned around and saw a woman speaking animatedly with Mitzi Keller. She quieted when Cory Stevenson was put under oath.

Cory was wearing a suit that Mrs. Castillo had borrowed, a blue shirt that had belonged to one of my sons, and a red-and-blue striped tie. Like a parent at a recital, I held my breath and hoped he would handle himself well.

During the initial questions, Walt Hilliard treated Cory respectfully, and he soon relaxed enough to loosen his grip on the side of the railing. The defense attorney asked him to describe the sleeping arrangements at the Stevenson house.

“There were bunk beds. I was on top most of the time and Alicia was underneath.”

“What were they like?”

“They were old and rusty in the springs.”

“Did they make any noise when you sat on them or got up?”

“Yes, they made a crinkly noise. Kind of like old steps.”

“Are you easily awoken in the night?”

“Yes, I’m a light sleeper. I always hear the screen door open when my grandfather goes out to smoke.”

“Do you think your father could come and get Alicia out of her bed and take her into the dining room without you hearing it?”

“No.”

“Have you lived in the same household with your sister most of your life?”

“Yes, always.”

“Have you ever heard anyone called ‘Shampooman’?”

“No.”

“How do you feel about your father?”

“I love him. He treated us great until Alicia and Rich started this stuff. Then Dad got, I guess what you call, frustrated, by what they said about him.”

“How do you feel about your sister?”

“I don’t understand why she would accuse Dad of doing that to her so I kind of hate her inside, but she’s my sister so I gotta love her too.”

“How do you feel about your brother?”

“I guess I love him, but I also kind of hate him too because he’s lying about what Dad did to him and my sister.”

“Where are you living?”

“In a foster home.”

“Why are you there?”

“Because of what Alicia said my father did to her.”

“Do you think she is telling the truth?”

“No.”

“Did your father ever hurt or abuse you in any way?”

“No.”

“Are you afraid of your father?”

“No. I want to go home and live with him.”

When her turn came, Grace Chandler used her rougher no-nonsense tone. “Where did your sister shampoo her hair?”

“In the shower.”

“Did your father help her?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why would she need his help?”

“She covered her face with a washcloth so soap wouldn’t burn her eyes when her hair was being rinsed out.”

Grace moved her podium slightly, and as she did so, I noticed that she had the two typewritten pages of questions I had prepared for Cory on top of her notes. After each question, I had written in parentheses the answer I believed was correct. I have put my comments in the same manner after the questions.

“Cory, have you ever been arrested?” (He was arrested for vandalism to a truck and crops worth $1,500 and received a sentence involving community service, which he has not fulfilled.)

“Yes, I messed with a tractor.”

“Did you receive a sentence?”

“No.”

“Weren’t you supposed to do some community service?”

“Yes.”

“Did you fulfill that?”

“No, HRS moved me before I could.”

“With whom were you arrested?” (Dennis Smiley, the son of Dee Smiley. The date was only two days before Alicia supposedly reported the abuse to Dennis’s mother.)

“Denny Smiley.”

“When did this happen?”

“Last summer.”

“Was that around the time Alicia left home?”

“Yes, the same week.”

“Who is Dennis’s mother and what does she do?”

“Mrs. Smiley runs the convenience store near our house.”

“You are living in a foster home now, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“How many places have you lived since you were taken from your home?” (Five foster homes and six shelters.)

“A couple of places.”

“Would eleven homes in less than a year seem about right?”

“Yes.”

“How did you feel about leaving home?” (He says it was the worst day of his life.)

“It was the worst day of my life.”

“Do you want to go back to your father?”

“Yes.”

“Did your father promise you anything for cooperating with him?” (He promised him a 1932 classic-model truck, which he had to sell to pay his attorney.)

“He said things would be better when I got home again.”

Until the moment came, we were unsure whether Red Stevenson was going to take the stand to defend himself. I had met him several times while supervising visits with Cory and found him coarse and unpredictable. He had not hesitated to denigrate Alicia in front of me, pummel Cory inappropriately, and even badger Cory to testify on his behalf. He also had a volatile temper when he was challenged, which I hoped he would reveal during cross-examination.

Richard Leroy Stevenson, Sr., took the oath in a loud, resonant voice. He stated his name, age, residence, and other pertinent facts without hesitation. He told about owning a marine engine repair shop first in town and then at the marina, but that he had sold it to pay for his defense.

“How was your business doing before that?” Walt Hilliard asked.

“Not so good. Just after I moved to the more expensive shop at the marina, there was a recession and people weren’t spending as much to buy and maintain racing boats, which was most of my business.”

“How did this affect your life?”

“I was under a lot of stress, so I didn’t pay as much attention to my family. If I had been, Alicia might not have gotten in with that crowd of boys. When I figured out what was going on, I put my foot down, made some rules about dating, and she became upset.”