Page 119 of The Right to Remain

“It’s mine,” said Helena.

The judge held up his hand to stop the witness from saying more. “Mr. Swyteck, what is your objection?”

The prosecutor’s last-minute maneuvering had felt like an ambush, and Jack was expecting Helena to say the gun belonged to Elliott. “I withdraw the objection, Your Honor.”

Weller continued. “Did you have the gun in your possession on the day of your husband’s death?”

“I did. But only for part of that day.”

“Which part?”

“The early morning. While I was at the house.”

“Can you pinpoint the moment at which the gun was no longer in your possession?”

“Yes. As I testified before, Owen and I had an argument that morning.”

The prosecutor checked her notes. “Just to be clear: This was the argument that followed the phone call in which your husband told Mr. Stafford, ‘Stay away from my son, you freak.’ Correct?”

“Objection, leading,” said Jack.

“Sustained. Ms. Weller, you ceded the right of cross-examination to the defense by asking to go first.”

“But I was merely quoting her prior testimony.”

“Stopleading the witness,” the judge said firmly.

“Yes, Your Honor,” she said. “Ms. Pollard, what happened after that argument?”

“As I testified before, Owen ordered me out of the house.”

“What do you mean when you say he ‘ordered’ you?”

Helena drew a breath, then continued. “He told me to get out and never come back. He said I didn’t know the first thing about raising a boy properly and that Austen was staying with him.”

“What did you do?”

“I left.”

“Without Austen?”

She glanced in Jack’s direction. “Yes. Mr. Swyteck tried to make me feel ashamed about that at the last hearing, like I was a bad mother. I’m not. I was afraid.”

Jack could have pointed out that if anyone had cast shame on her, it was the prosecutor, but an objection would only have made him look like a bully. He simply took mental note: If that was the way she remembered it, Helena was a “hostile witness” indeed.

The prosecutor continued. “Not to be flip, but it doesn’t sound like this was a situation where your husband said, ‘Get out, I’m keeping our son,’ and you replied, ‘Good idea, let me get my purse, have a nice life.’”

“Not even close. I literally ran out the front door. And it’s funny you mention my purse.”

By “funny” she presumably meant a coincidence, which Jack knew it was not. This was a choreographed show.

“Why is that funny?” asked the prosecutor.

“Because I ran out so fast, I left my purse behind.”

“Is that important for some reason—the fact that you left your purse behind?”

“Very. My Bobcat is a small, palm-sized handgun. When it wasn’t locked in the gun cabinet at home, I kept it in my purse.”