The Murder of Sara Barton (Atlanta Murder Squad Book 1) by Lance McMillian (top 20 books to read TXT) 📕

line from witness to defendant. Tasha looks at Miller and points without hesitation at the man she saw shoot another person in the head. Amazing. She is the bravest person I’ve ever met in my life. I resume my place to guard Tasha from Miller’s glare.

“Let the record reflect that the witness identified the defendant, Corey Miller, as Mr. Corey.”

“You testified that you saw Mr. Corey holding a gun and talking to a man down on his knees in the street. What happens next?”

“Mr. Corey put the gun to the man’s head and shot him.”

Miller’s voice, unheard until this moment, suddenly reverberates throughout the small room: “That little bitch be lying!”

The stillness of the courtroom shatters. Deputies move closer to the defense table. The judge’s gavel bangs. I turn to face Miller, again making sure that I stand in his line of vision to the witness stand. The hatred in his eyes spits out the rawest emotion I’ve ever encountered in my life. He scares me, but I can’t show it. I match his menace with a scowl of my own, encouraging him to transfer his violent urges my way. Anything to protect Tasha.

Judge Ross speaks, “Mr. Miller, another display like that, and I’ll have you removed from the courtroom.”

I allow things to calm before resuming. I catch a glimpse of Belinda. Miller’s outburst rattled her. Scott puts his arm around her for reassurance. Belinda wants her daughter out of here. The finish line is close.

“You saw Corey Miller shoot a man in the head. What did you do next?”

“I ran to my bed and got under the covers and cried. I was scared.”

Suddenly the dam breaks. Tasha cries fast-moving tears. The change surprises me. She has never once cried in my presence. I rush to grab some tissues and take them to her. I hurt for Tasha, but the calculating part of my lawyer brain concludes I couldn’t have scripted that breakdown any better. The jury is now as protective of Tasha as I am.

“No further questions, Your Honor. Thank you for your testimony, Tasha. You’re a brave little girl.”

***

Joe must be careful. Tasha is a sympathetic witness, and he has to treat her with kid gloves. Handling a child witness on cross-examination is a precarious balancing act for a trial lawyer. The lawyer must simultaneously undermine the truth of the child’s testimony yet avoid appearing to be a big bully who picks on little kids. With dishonest children, this task is hard enough. With honest children, it is near impossible. And Tasha speaks the truth.

I prepped her for cross-examination, of course. I subjected her to a variety of approaches, some soft, some mildly harsh. Ella did a few rounds with her, too, just to throw Tasha a different look. Our ultimate message to her was twofold—listen carefully to each question and tell the truth. Do that, and everything will be fine.

As Joe readies himself for his first question, Miller hands him a piece of paper. Joe reads it, frowns, and puts it down on the defense table. He begins.

“Hello, Tasha. My name is Mr. Parks. I’m just going to ask you some questions, and I want you to tell me the truth, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

I love the “yes, sir.” That type of testimonial genuineness is hard to fake.

“You mentioned where you were living at the time you allegedly saw a shooting in front of your house. My first question is where do you stay now?”

Hell no. I shoot straight up.

“Objection, Your Honor, relevance.”

Joe responds, “He opened the door by talking about her living arrangements.”

“I didn’t open the door on where the witness is living now. That information has no relevance to this case whatsoever. None.”

A distracted Judge Ross looks up from what must be his cell phone, oblivious to anything that was just said. He rules, “I’ll allow the question.”

“Your Honor! Corey Miller is on trial for killing a witness. The State believes that the life of this witness—”

“I’ve made my ruling.”

“Your Honor, may we approach—”

“I’ve made my ruling, counselor, sit down!”

I throw down my pen on the table in disgust. Ella places her hand on my arm lest I toss something else. Ross stares at me hard, mulling over his next actions. Incompetent bastard. Ella yanks me down, and I sit.

Ross allows the moment to pass without further admonitions to me. Joe asks his question again.

Tasha looks at me confused. I nod. She answers, “With my Aunt Patricia.” She then provides house number, street name, city, everything. Belinda’s soft sob behind me tortures my ears. My emotions fly right past anger to fury.

Across the way Miller writes down something in the wake of Tasha’s answer. Clarissa Simon, Juror Number Seven, observes Miller’s action and takes it the same way I do—the transcription of Tasha’s current residence. Her stunned face shows that she gets it. Miller has only one use for that address.

Listening proves elusive. My body sits still in my wood back chair, but my insides shake with uncontrollable stress. The clash between the motionless outside and the racing cauldron within demolishes my ability to process information. The physical imbalance takes me back to the night Amber and Cale were killed. The same feelings of wrath and helplessness grip me now. I might explode on the spot.

Joe ends his questioning. Judge Ross is forced to address me: “Mr. Meridian, any re-direct?” I look at Ella dumbfounded. She shakes her head. I look at Ross and shake my head.

“All right. The witness is excused. Court’s adjourned until tomorrow.” The gavel bangs.

Scott walks with Belinda to the witness stand. Mother and daughter hug. Belinda’s tears water Tasha’s hair. Three uniformed deputies summoned by Scott encircle the two. Officers tonight will no doubt station themselves outside Aunt Patricia’s house where Tasha is currently staying, but Scott will have Tasha and Belinda tucked away safely under police guard somewhere else until the end of the trial.

I attempt to pack away my trial materials, but the numbness in my hands makes grasping