Page 46 of The Right to Remain

The prosecutor stepped closer to the witness, her gaze tightening. “You’re one of the few people on this planet who can identify Austen’s biological mother. Aren’t you—Elle?”

Jack could see it all over Elliott’s face:Ellewas his dead name.

The prosecutor’s attack continued. “Your name used to be Elle Carpenter, did it not? Elle Carpenter, the biological mother of Austen Pollard. Big Boy? BB?”

Jack stepped forward. “Show me the door if you want,” he told the prosecutor, and then he faced his client. “Elliott, this has gone far enough.”

Elliott appeared numb, shell-shocked even. Wisely, the prosecutor simply let the grand jurors observe, rather than lose the moment by escorting Jack to the exit.

Elliott struggled to regain his composure, or at least some of it. He glanced in Jack’s direction and then looked at the grand jurors, using the words that Jack had impressed upon him so many times.

“I decline to answer based on my right to remain silent under the Fifth Amendment of the United States Constitution.”

“Is it your intention to assert your Fifth Amendment rights in response to my remaining questions?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” said Weller, and then she turned to explain things to the grand jurors. “The witness is declining to answer any further questions based on her right—I’m sorry,hisright against self-incrimination. We must respect that decision. The witness is excused.”

Jack doubted that the pronoun slip was accidental, and he didn’t appreciate the prosecutor’s gratuitous repetition of a word—self-incrimination—that appeared nowhere in the Constitution. But he wasted no time in gathering his client and heading for the exit. The junior prosecutor opened the door, Jack and Elliott stepped out, and the door closed behind them.

“I’m so sorry,” said Elliott.

Jack was too angry to answer. He took Elliott by the arm, led him away from the grand jury room, and didn’t stop until they found an empty conference room at the end of the hallway. Jack closed the door.

“You’reAusten Pollard’s mother?”

“Was.”

“Do you not see how that changeseverything?”

“It changesnothing. I had nothing to do with Owen Pollard’s death.”

“Which was a lot easier to provebeforeyou testified.”

“The prosecutor knew I was the biological mother before I ever set foot in the grand jury room. I didn’t give her any ammunition she didn’t already have.”

“Oh, you have no idea how much you’ve given her,” said Jack, and then he slipped into the role of prosecutor, launching a mock examination of his own client:

“You were Elle Carpenter, correct? As the biological mother, Elle Carpenter had no way of knowing that the Pollards stopped calling their son ‘Big Boy’ after the adoption. That’s whyElliott Staffordwrote ‘BB’s mother’ in this phony list of ‘Things Stressing Me Out.’ You wrote it in Owen Pollard’s handwriting to make his death look like suicide! Isn’t that true,Mr. Stafford?”

“I didn’t kill Owen Pollard,” he said, glowering.

“Then you should have listened to me, kept silent, and forced the prosecution to prove you did. Instead you lied to your attorney and testified your way into a deep, dark hole that will probably get you indicted. The more you talk, the faster you dig your own grave.”

“Fine,” he said defiantly.

“Fine?” Is that all you can say for yourself? What isfinesupposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, then answered in a soft but firm voice that was filled with finality. “It means I will remain silent.”

Chapter 16

The indictment landed in Jack’s email inbox on Monday morning. His phone immediately blew up with calls from the media. Jack would never make a public comment before speaking to his client, but contacting Elliott was proving far more difficult than it should have. Jack dropped off Righley at school and called Elliott’s cell from his car. It was his fourth attempt. No response.

“Elliott,” Jack said into voicemail, “it’s your lawyer again. Call me.”

He tried Elliott’s work number, but the receptionist said he hadn’t come in yet. Jack had known clients to flee after an indictment, and he was getting a bad vibe. He drove to Elliott’s townhouse. The parking space outside his unit was empty, and no one answered the door. Jack called again and left another voicemail message.