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

Since Ella banned me from all trial prep with Lara, now is the first time I’m seeing any of this. The performance is powerful.

“What were your observations of the marriage?”

“She got married too young. She was only 20. He was 41. I told her he was way too old for her, but she didn’t listen. She loved him. It got her killed.”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Millwood has to object to that.

Judge Woodcomb rules, “Sustained. The jury will disregard that last sentence. The witness will avoid such editorializing in the future.”

Lara addresses the judge, “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

Her apology overflows with sincerity. Woodcomb nods and falls under her spell. Millwood notices it, looks at me, and rolls his eyes slightly.

Ella stands at the end of the jury box farthest away from the witness stand. This positioning creates the feel of an intimate conversation among Lara, Ella, and the jurors. As she answers questions, Lara makes good eye contact with both her questioner and the jury. I worried beforehand, but Ella and Lara have good chemistry. One would never guess that they hate each other.

“What problems did you observe in the marriage?”

“Bernard was controlling, liked to have his own way. He treated her as a subordinate, not an equal partner. His infidelity began early on with lots of different women.”

Ella draws out some more of the marriage backstory in a series of little vignettes, including the time years ago when Barton grabbed Sara’s arm and pulled her away from the sisters’ ten-year high school reunion. Barton wanted to leave, and Sara didn’t. They left. Lara could still see the marks from Barton’s grip the next day.

Through stories like this one, Lara paints an ugly picture of a man who brooks no dissent. Barton sits over there shaking his head throughout the testimony. Millwood tries various covert and overt methods to stop the head-shaking, but he has lost control over his client.

Ella moves the questioning to more recent times and asks if Lara knew of her sister’s affair with Brice Tanner: “Yes, that was the first time she ever cheated despite years of Bernard’s womanizing. But when she found out about Bernard and Monica Haywood, something snapped inside of her. She didn’t care anymore. She wanted to do something to make herself feel good again, and Brice Tanner was the outlet. That one of their encounters was secretly taped was a cruel twist of fate.”

“How did the defendant respond when he learned about Sara and Brice?”

“Rage. I’ve known Bernard for a long time, and he can’t stand being made the fool. To see his wife cast him aside for a younger, more virile man wounded his pride. He could do whatever he wanted outside the marriage, but Sara had to remain faithful to him.”

On cue, Barton’s face turns blood red as he and Lara engage in a deadly staredown. Lara’s words—especially the “younger, more virile man” bit—were no doubt calculated to produce this very reaction. She has great talent for getting a rise out of people. The bulging vein in Barton’s neck speaks truth to everything she just said. Everyone in the room sees it. The man sitting next to Jack Millwood looks like a murderer.

“Have you heard the 911 call your sister placed?”

Lara nods, and tears cloud her eyes. She uses a tissue to blunt the impact, but the angst seeps through nevertheless. Her makeup remains perfectly in place.

“I’m sorry. Thinking about the fear in my sister’s voice on the 911 call is very upsetting to me.”

“Did you talk to your sister after the 911 call?”

“Yes. The next day. She told me she was scared and afraid for her life. She also had bruising on her back.”

“How do you know that?”

“I took a picture of her bruises.”

Ella begins the process of authenticating and introducing the photograph of Sara Barton’s bruised back into evidence. Lara describes the scene when she visited her sister shortly after Barton’s attack and confirms that she took the picture to later use in a possible divorce. Barton scowls like a skunk at her the entire time. The photograph is passed from juror to juror. Once the jury has had the time to absorb the evidence of the defendant’s physical abuse, Ella continues.

“Why didn’t Sara just leave at that moment?”

“I told her to. She wouldn’t listen. She was still shaken from the attack. She told me she feared that Bernard would kill her before he allowed that to happen. A few months later, she did summon the courage to leave. And then …”

Wary of the judge’s earlier admonishment not to editorialize, Lara allows the rest of us to complete the thought for her. She sheds a few more tears, the tissue in her hand riding to the rescue barely in time again. In a move of calculated thoughtfulness, Ella gives the witness some time to compose herself—the unsaid accusation still hanging above the courtroom. Barton glowers on, digging his own grave by the second.

“When was the last time you saw your sister?”

“The day before she died. We had lunch. She had decided to leave Bernard and was filing the paperwork in a few days. I was happy for her. Sara was hopeful for the first time in years and prepared to take back control of her life. The dark cloud hanging over her was gone.”

More tears, then Ella announces no further questions.

***

Millwood spies Lara Landrum from across the courtroom as if he doesn’t know what to do with her. After a promising morning, the defense’s fortunes have suffered a hard afternoon. The heaves of Millwood’s chest suggest a profound weariness with both his client and this entire affair. He stands with more effort than the movement deserves. Not much good can come from cross-examining this witness, and Millwood well recognizes the lay of the land. Lara is too sympathetic, too polished, too ready to inflict maximum hurt on one Bernard Barton. He approaches her out of professional obligation and little else. I’m looking at a man that just wants to