Nancy Grace - Murder in the Courthouse

Now caught out on an enclosed patio, Cecil decided there was only one way out-to climb over the fence surrounding the cement alligator statues rather than walk back through the gift shop and possibly bump into the cute redhead who now, there with her two little boys, clearly thought he was a creepy perv.

The fence was some sort of chicken wire strung to wooden poles, each about five to six feet apart, and woven into the chicken wire was green plastic so as to appear, Cecil figured, jungle-esque. Or as much as green plastic strips could resemble the flora alongside the Amazon.

It was just barely too tall for him; he couldn’t jump it or crawl over it. Otherwise, he’d risk pulling the whole thing down. Looking around, he got inspiration. From a gator statue.

Trying to appear nonchalant because he’d wisely scoped out another surveillance camera overhead, Cecil sauntered over to the bronze gator fountain creature. He bent down as if he was checking the price and inadvertently saw it was 10 percent off. He briefly considered buying the thing, but the nine hundred dollars or so was reckless spending in Cecil Snodgrass’s book. Plus, he’d have to see the redhead again, which conjured up way too many weird and embarrassing mental images in Cecil’s head.

He gently pulled the surprisingly heavy faux gator across the concrete surface. It made a grating sound that thankfully no one inside would hear and be alerted to his humiliating escape attempt. Just a few more feet… and bingo! Stepping up on the gator’s head, he took a mighty leap and… he was free!

Tumbling out onto the parking lot behind the Gator Gift Shop, he instinctively reached for his wallet to ensure it was still there and then, fishing in the hidden pocket inside his Steve Irwin vest, his heart thumped… his pass wasn’t there!

He’d miss the Croc-N-Gator Night Time Adventure without it! Using both hands, he gave himself a frantic pat down. The Feeding Frenzy Thrill was fun, but it was the Night Time Adventure he was longing for… the selfies! You had to be on a special waiting list to be allowed in! The Gator World website said so! Without his certificate, he’d miss the whole thing! And he’d been thinking all afternoon of boasting about it at work.

His mind was racing a million miles a minute when his fingers, on their own accord, reached into yet another “secret” pocket, and there it was. Relief flooded his body before he even unfolded it and gazed lovingly at it. His “golden ticket,” the All-Inclusive Gator World Certificate of Admission! He hadn’t lost it after all.

Miracles do happen.

Heading back to the main entrance of Gator World, which was coincidentally a huge gaping gator mouth complete with all its teeth, crafted of vibrant green polyethylene plastic, Cecil flashed his admission ticket from earlier that morning. Now he had plenty of time to check out the Gator Museum, look around the park some more, and maybe have another gator-on-a-stick and a frozen gator treat.

Oops. Just then he remembered the brown plastic carry tote full of frozen gator meat and yes, a dozen or so small, dark brown plastic bottles of “performance enhancers” he’d left on the floor of the aisle just before he ducked out.

He hoped the redhead didn’t find them.

Every time Hailey looked up at Finch, he gave her an “I can’t believe you came to court when you could have a concussion” look. He almost seemed mad at her, but she knew better. She knew he was just worried.

But seriously, other than her body being sore, she hardly felt a thing now. But the question did keep running through her mind… what exactly happened out there at the corner of the courthouse? She was 100 percent sure at the time she’d felt a stiff push on her shoulder. Was she wrong?

She replayed the whole thing over and over in her mind. She actually wanted to believe she was wrong. Hailey didn’t fool herself, she knew she had enemies. But she still wanted to think no one would do such a thing, actually push her in front of a skidding bus weighing in at over fifteen tons.

Rewinding the accident in her own mind came to an abrupt halt when the bailiff strode into the courtroom. He entered from a side door leading from the judge’s chambers.

“Hear ye, hear ye. Court is in session, the Honorable Luther Alverson on the bench. Please rise.”

Everyone stood up as the judge swept onto the bench, his black robe billowing out behind him. Alverson immediately took hold of his gavel and banged it sharply on a flat wooden block.

“Court’s in session. Call the next witness.”

The lead male prosecutor turned to the audience in the well and called out loudly, “The state calls Mrs. Tish Adams.”

Loud gasps rippled across the crowd of legal eagles and court watchers. All eyes turned on Tish Adams, seated with her husband on the front row directly behind her son and his fleet of defense attorneys.

She remained seated on the inner edge of the row closest to the aisle, visibly clutching the top of her oxygen tank with her left hand, her right hand pressed to her chest. Her expression was stricken.

“Objection!” DelVecchio leaped to his feet, pounding his fist on the counsel table before him.

“On what grounds, Mr. DelVecchio?” Alverson asked it calmly, again refusing to be goaded into a mistrial, much less intimidated by a showboating defense lawyer.

“Your Honor… she’s the defendant’s mother !”

“Mr. DelVecchio, is she of sound mind?” Alverson’s demeanor was unflappable.

“Yes, Your Honor! Of course she is!”

“Is she in any way implicated in a related criminal matter so as to allow her to refuse to take the stand and exercise her Fifth Amendment right to remain silent?”

Another loud gasp spread across the crowd at the judge’s question.

“Absolutely not! Your Honor, this poor woman has never so much as jaywalked ! She is absolutely shrouded in decency, broken with grief over her son’s plight, a pillar of the Savannah community!”

“The court so notes she has never jaywalked. At least not in this jurisdiction.” Alverson was having none of it. “And is she of sound body, Mr. DelVecchio?”

“Well, Your Honor, now that you mention it… Mrs. Adams does suffer from a serious pulmonary…”

“Mr. DelVecchio!”

“… a lung defect, so to speak…” DelVecchio went on. Stupidly.

“Mr. DelVecchio! Let me remind you that while you do not originate from this jurisdiction, you remain an officer of the court and if, if Mr. DelVecchio, it appears to this court that you are obfuscating the truth regarding Mrs. Adams’s ability to take the stand, I will not hesitate to hold you in contempt and house you overnight in the Chatham County Jail. Is that understood? ”

“Yes, Your Honor.” For once, DelVecchio was silent. For a man who was used to five-star treatment, the thought of a night in the same accommodations as his client was too much for him.

“Then I ask you again, Mr. DelVecchio, is there any reason the state may not call Mrs. Adams to the stand?”

“But Your Honor… she’s the defendant’s mother …” It was DelVecchio’s last resort, having run out of all other rounds to keep Tish Adams off the stand. “Plus… she’s a defense witness.”

“Mr. DelVecchio, do not trifle with this court. Witnesses are not pawns in a chess game… they do not belong to one side or another. If Mrs. Adams is not infirm in mind or body and has no legal reason to refuse to testify, she can and will be called to the stand.”

“We will appeal, Your Honor! For a certificate of immediate review by the state appeals court!”