Page 13 of Deadline
“I told Jeremy that he wasn’t fit to be around children. Or anyone for that matter. I ordered him to leave. He refused. So I threatened to call the police. I also threatened to get a restraining order, preventing him from coming near our sons.”
“What was his reaction to the threat?”
“He cursed at me. Called me names. He said that our sons were his flesh and blood and that nothing would or could keep him from being with them. He caused a terrible scene.”
Friends of Hunter’s from preschool, their parents, Hunter himself had heard Jeremy’s profane shouting and had come inside to see what it was about. She would never forget the fear in her son’s eyes as he watched his ranting father. Grant, her younger, was only a year and a half old at the time. He began to cry.
Amelia looked down at her cold, damp hands, which she’d subconsciously clasped tightly in her lap. She forced herself to relax them, reminding herself that her sons would never have to fear Jeremy again.
“Ms. Nolan?”
She raised her head and squared her shoulders.
“Ms. Nolan,” Jackson repeated, “what were Willard and Darlene Strong doing while this scene was unfolding?”
She darted a look toward the defense table and felt the full brunt of Strong’s animosity. “Mr. Strong was egging Jeremy on.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“He was saying things like ‘Darlene would never get away with talking to me like that.’”
“Did he indicate that she would suffer physically if she—”
“Your Honor, objection,” Gleason whined. “Prosecution is leading the witness again.”
“Sustained.”
Jackson apologized, rather insincerely Amelia thought. Then he turned back to her. “Do you recall a specific threat made by Mr. Strong toward his wife?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them, she looked directly toward the jury box. “Jeremy had taken a grip on my arm. Here.” She placed her hand around her biceps. “He was shaking me. Mr. Strong said, ‘You’re letting her off light. If Darlene threatened me like that, it would be the last thing she ever did.’”
* * *
The statement created a vacuum in the courtroom. It was several moments before the spectators began to breathe again. Feet shifted, clothing rustled as people readjusted themselves
in their seats, someone coughed.
Dawson noticed the same was so with the jurors. They had seemed transfixed by Amelia Nolan, or at least by her story. Lem Jackson was no fool. He milked the tension by looking each of them in the eye before he walked back to the state’s table and picked up a legal pad, flipping through several pages as though searching for a note. Dawson doubted he needed the reference. It was a plausible way to kill time while his witness’s pertinent statement took root in the minds of the jurors.
Before he could pose another question, Amelia Nolan asked for a glass of water. While she was taking the short break, the judge invited everyone to stand up and stretch. Dawson used the time to send two texts. The first went to Headly.
Wesson’s ex testifying. Very effective. Used the Viagra yet? I want salacious details.
The second text was sent to a researcher and fact checker who’d been at NewsFront since the magazine’s first issue was published thirty years ago. She was scrawny, cranky, and always smelled of the cigarettes she claimed she no longer smoked, but Dawson trusted her speed, accuracy, and most of all her discretion. Every Christmas he corrupted her with a five-pound box of chocolate-covered cherries and a case of equally sweet wine.
Glenda, sweetheart: Amelia of the GA Nolans? Why “honorable”? Facts desired asap, please.
He used an app to tack on hearts and flowers at the end of the text.
No sooner had he pressed Send than the judge tapped her gavel and instructed everyone who’d stood to be seated. When everyone had resettled, she instructed Jackson to continue with his witness.
The prosecutor was ready. He set his legal tablet on the table and approached the witness box. When he addressed her, his tone was somber. “Ms. Nolan, how did this scene that you described eventually pan out?”
“One of the other parents called nine-one-one.”
“The police responded?”
“Two officers arrived in a matter of minutes. But Jeremy and the Strongs had left before they got there.”
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