Leaving Yesterday (27 page)

She shrugged. “Didn’t do much.” She rolled her head toward me. “I know how the system works, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Lacey.” I pulled into her driveway, climbed out of my car, and started to help her up the stairs.

She pulled her arm away. “I don’t want help up my own steps. I may be frail, but I’m not ready to go there yet.”

I stopped at the bottom of the steps and watched her unlock her front door. “I’ll bring some dinner over in a little while.”

“Don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.”

She nodded and disappeared inside. I turned to find Rick’s truck parked on the curb, him leaning against the passenger’s door. I walked over to where he stood. “Why didn’t you go in to the house?”

He put his hands in his pockets and stared at the sidewalk. “After we had that little blowup the other night, I got back to my apartment and I was just miserable. Because it wasn’t until that exact moment that I realized whose fault this all is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen you lose your temper and throw things. Or kick a couch halfway across the room.” He looked up at me. “Or knock someone to kingdom come with a baseball bat. That temper, that part of Kurt that exploded, well, it didn’t come from anywhere but me. I realized then that I’ve got some of my own facing up to do. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve signed up for an anger management program here in town, and … I’ve been thinking … maybe we ought to try one of those marriage counselors.”

“Really?”

“You know how I feel about those things, but I figure, what’s it going to hurt at this point?” He opened the door to his truck and climbed in. “I just wanted to say that before we got home and Caroline was standing right there, and I lost my nerve.”

“Thanks.” I knew just how hard that had been for him, and I thought maybe his good heart might not be completely buried after all.

I returned to my car, but before I’d even pulled into the driveway, Caroline was already standing there. “You’re home, you’re home! They knew it wasn’t Kurt’s fault, right? They’re going to let you go, and Kurt, too? Right?”

“Not quite, sweetie. Come sit in my lap and we’ll talk about everything that’s happened.”

Thirty-Six

The story broke in a major way. The local morning news spoke of little else, and of course it made the front page of the
Santa
Barbara News-Press
. Far beyond what I expected, it also graced the cover of the
Los Angeles Times
, and every single major news channel picked it up. It seemed that no one could quite believe the story of the mother and son who turned themselves in to save another boy.

My phone started ringing about seven in the morning and didn’t stop. Reporters, reporters, and more reporters. I finally turned off the ringer. What would the women at church say when they saw today’s headlines? I could just hear the phone conversations that were probably happening now.

The doorbell rang not long after Caroline left for school, and I considered just ignoring it. Instead, I tiptoed to look through the spy hole and saw Lacey standing there, staring directly back into my eyes. “It’s me,” she called.

I opened the door and saw that she was carrying a plate of scones. “I figured you’d be barricaded in today, thought you might need some reinforcements.”

“Oh, Lacey, you’re the best.”

“Sure am.” She nodded and followed me into the kitchen without another word. She was wearing a pair of gray slacks and a red sweater, which made me do a double take.

“What, no sweats again today?’

She shrugged. “I wore boring suits long enough I figure I deserve the change. But I wasn’t sure if there would be photographers lurking around here today, and I didn’t want to do anything that would look bad for you.” She pulled at the sequined band holding her hair back. “I did add a little touch of individuality today.”

I set out some plates, poured us both a cup of coffee, and we sat. Sometimes we looked at each other, sometimes we looked away from each other, and sometimes we just stared out into space. I took a bite or two of my scone, but it barely registered.

“I took the liberty of making some calls. Ryan Scott is the absolute best criminal defense attorney in Santa Barbara, and he’s agreed to take both you and Kurt as clients.”

“But what about you?”

“Oh, honey, I don’t have the strength to see this thing through. I’ve been retired a few years now, and I wasn’t on the best of terms with a good bit of the legal establishment well before that. Besides, I was a civil attorney back in the day. You need someone who knows what he’s doing.” The doorbell rang. She looked at me. “You expecting anyone?”

I shook my head. “I’ve had several phone calls from reporters. I’m guessing they finally just decided to show up themselves.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Lacey pushed to her feet, and I noticed she wheezed as she walked away. I heard the door open, and Lacey’s scratchy voice. “What’s your business here?”

I strained to hear the voice because I wanted to know. Then again, I really didn’t.

“I … well, my business is Alisa. I came by to offer my support. And to bring this, too.”

Beth? Was that Beth’s voice I heard? I stood from the table, walked to the doorway, and peered at the front door. “Beth, you’re here?”

“Yes I am. And I’m not the only one coming, either. The women have been burning up the phone lines this morning.” She held out a casserole dish, covered with aluminum foil. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about cooking again until at least the end of the decade.”

“But … don’t you realize what a hypocrite I’ve been?” I looked at this woman who personified the statement “God is the God of order,” and could not begin to understand this visit. “Why would you want to even speak to me?”

“Alisa, the fact that you’re willing to throw away everything to do the right thing, well, I’ve never been more proud to say I know you. I know a lot of others feel the same way.”

I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “Thank you so much for being here for me.”

“Honey, think nothing of it. This is what we’re supposed to do, remember? Love each other, support one another, and pull each other back to our feet when life has knocked us flat.”

Beth left after a few minutes, but half an hour later Carleigh arrived. Then Kristyn. Then Tasha. Some brought food, some flowers, but they all brought words of support.

Lacey looked at me. “Well, I have to say it. I underestimated them.” She looked at me. “I daresay that you did, too.”

I nodded. “Most of all, I think I underestimated God. I didn’t trust Him to help me through whatever it was He asked of me. This is hard. So hard. But I can’t believe the relief I feel at not trying to live a lie anymore. After this, I don’t think I’ll ever again feel the pressure to pretend to be perfect, because by now, everyone in America knows better.”

Ryan Scott came by my house late that afternoon. He was in his midthirties, nice looking in a balding yuppie sort of way. He took the soda I offered him, then settled his briefcase on the coffee table. “Kurt’s arraignment will be at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. They’ll officially file charges then.”

“How bad is it going to be?” Lacey had brought over her portable oxygen and now sat on the couch beside me.

“Murder, of course. They’re talking about adding special circumstances, similar to the charges against Gary Singer, but with some differences. Mr. Singer’s special allegations involved murder committed for robbery, and since we all know that Kurt is not the one who robbed Rudy Prince, that will be dropped. However, the use of a deadly weapon circumstance is still possible.”

“It’s that kind of thinking that’s made me hate our legal system,” Lacey said. “What kind of system adds a bigger penalty to Kurt for using a deadly weapon, when the weapon was taken off the thug he’s accused of killing? Never has made sense to me, which of course has kept me in plenty of trouble with the legal system for years.”

Ryan smiled at her with such affection that I began to suspect the two of them had crossed paths somewhere in the past. “I’m going to fight it, of course.”

Lacey nodded. “Of course you are. It’s downright ridiculous, that’s what it is.”

“Will Kurt be able to come home until the trial?” That’s what I wanted more than anything. To have Kurt out of that awful place, back among family, back where he could get the support he still needed so desperately.

“I’m going to fight for bail, and a reduced bail at that.”

“Reduced bail?” I hadn’t even thought in financial terms. “How much do you think it will be?”

“We have a set bail schedule here, so everyone starts out on the same page. The bail schedule for murder is one million dollars.” Ryan did not acknowledge my gasp, and I was grateful for that. He paused just a moment, then continued. “Actually, that’s the good news. The bad news is, there is no bail schedule for murder with special circumstances, so we’re going to have to do some fast talking to keep them from attaching use of a deadly weapon to his charges.”

“Do you think it’ll happen?” I felt the closest thing to hope I’d felt in a long time.

“That’s my plan. We’ll see how it goes.” He pulled off his glasses and looked at me with the gleam of self-assurance in his eyes. “They can’t really claim he’s a flight risk since he came and turned himself in, now, can they?”

I hoped he was right.

Thirty-Seven

Wednesday morning, the small courtroom was filled to capacity. A group of about a dozen—men, women, and a couple of teenagers—sat directly behind the prosecution’s table. They were dressed in mostly baggy jeans and T-shirts, several of the men wore gold chains, and they all had a rough edge about them. I assumed this to be Rudy Prince’s family, and I found myself wondering what his childhood might have been like.

The last two rows in both sides were filled by reporters and the likes. I made a point of not looking back.

Rick and I sat in the front row behind the defense table, Jodi beside me, Monte beside Rick. Lacey sat on the other side of Jodi, dressed demurely. She offered a single brief nod, her eyes broadcasting determined strength. About a dozen of my friends from church sat in the rows behind us. They all smiled at me and nodded their encouragement.

At the far end of our row, there sat a thin, dark-haired woman. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I might have seen her before. I would have assumed she was Rudy Prince’s mother, except why would she be sitting on our side of the courtroom?

Ryan Scott and Kurt entered the courtroom, and a buzz of whispers began to drone from the back rows. Kurt walked military straight and didn’t look to the right or left until he passed our aisle. Then, he looked back at me and nodded, no expression on his face at all. It frightened me.

The district attorney took his place, looking confident and almost bored. This was just another day’s work for him, I supposed, another day of wrestling with the power to change people’s lives forever.

The judge came in through a back door and took her seat, and a battle soon emerged between Ryan Scott and the district attorney. Ryan seemed ever so confident, and he threw out words like “no flight risk” and “acting with courage and honor.” The district attorney looked equally confident as he spouted phrases like, “the barbaric nature of the crime.” A lot of legalese peppered their statements, and I lost all track of who I thought might be winning the argument.

“Excuse me. May I say something to the court?” The darkhaired woman at the end of our row was standing, leaning against the rail that separated the spectators from the front.

Ryan Scott turned toward her, his face showing the first sign of surprise I’d seen all day. He glanced at the woman, then turned toward the district attorney, who appeared equally astounded.

“You are out of order.” The judge’s words were stern.

“Please, I’m Gary Singer’s mother. This boy turned himself in to save my son. I know he’s not going anywhere. Please grant him bail, for my son’s sake. For the sake of rewarding justice.”

The bailiff soon escorted the woman out of the room. However, as they made their way down the aisle, she was calling back over her shoulder. “You should show him the same respect he showed to my son.” The rows behind me erupted in applause, just one or two people at first, then the entire back section—including most of the reporters, from what I could tell.

“You will be silent, or you will leave this courtroom.” The judge’s words silenced the claps. What it didn’t stop was the buzz of whispers that ran through the reporters. I saw the district attorney turn and look at them. From the look on his face, I was sure I could practically read his thoughts. Tomorrow’s news would report that Gary Singer’s mother had pled for Kurt to be released and the district attorney watched, ice cold, as she was thrown from the courtroom. Or perhaps he could be the hero who honored her bravery and call for mercy. At least that’s what I hoped he was feeling.

He turned back to the bench. “Given the unusual circumstances, and the fact that he did turn himself in, we could consider lowering bail. But I want a guarantee from the defendant and both his parents that he will show up in court. I want to hear from his drug counselors on a regular basis that he is making his daily meetings, and I want a guarantee from his uncle and aunt that he will remain employed for the duration.”