Nancy Grace - Murder in the Courthouse

“Object! It could be months, even a year before retrial on a death-penalty case! The jury has spoken.” DelVecchio tuned up again.

“Counsel for the state, I have no doubt you will in fact re-try Todd Adams. But meanwhile, I believe the Georgia Supreme Court, knowing them, will demand I set a bond. Cash bond is hereby ordered in the amount of $1 million. Repeat, cash bond only .”

In a split second, DelVecchio leaped back on his feet. “But Your Honor, a million dollars cash bond is tantamount to no bond at all! That disallows the family using the family home as collateral! It’s in effect denying bond!”

“We’ll do it.” All eyes turned to the audience as a weak voice broke in. Tish Adams stood, leaning heavily on her tank. She inhaled deeply from the clear plastic tube that hung across her cheeks and just under her nostrils.

Before the judge could stop her, she went on, “We’ll raise the money tonight and have him out by the morning. I want my son home in his own room where he belongs. Where he’s always belonged.”

Although she spoke to the judge, Tish Adams only had eyes for her son. In stark contrast, Dana Love’s low sobs punctuated Tish Adams’s words.

“So be it. The defendant Todd Adams is hereby remanded to the Chatham County Jail unless and until such time as one million dollars cash bond is posted. At that time, he will be released to the custody of his parents Tish and Ron Adams where he shall be on house arrest until the time of his retrial. Conditions of house arrest are that he may not leave the premises of his parents’ home except to visit his lawyers’ offices and to attend religious services once a week. Court is adjourned.” Luther Alverson, barely disguising his disgust at the hung jury, swept off the bench and into his chambers.

There was one moment of stunned silence before the media sprang to their collective feet and rushed out the door to begin live shoots in the dark of night on the front of the courthouse steps for news cut-ins. Hailey and Finch sat stock-still, taking it all in, trying to digest that the culmination of a year of investigation plus weeks of testimony and evidence was nothing more than a hung jury. Hung, apparently, by one surly juror.

The Adamses were now leaning over the rail separating them from the well, exchanging last words and glances before their son was led out of the courtroom. Malcolm Love had managed to get his wife to her feet and, leaning heavily on her husband, she appeared to be physically limping from the pain of the trial’s outcome. The two, never looking back, hobbled out of the courtroom, the swinging doors whooshing shut behind them.

“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. That foreman ought to be tarred and feathered.” Finch’s first words came as he and Hailey stood and headed out of the courtroom. She still felt numb at a clear miscarriage of justice. She couldn’t rid her mind of the image of Julie Love in the grave, her dead arms holding baby Lily in death.

“I can’t believe it either. The evidence was overwhelming. The Loves have to be crushed, and all because of one nut job. Wait… shh. Here come the Adamses.”

Hailey nodded her head back over his shoulder and held the door open as the Adamses slowly made their way through it, the mom dabbing at her eyes with Kleenex. Hailey and Finch waited to let them pass through the doors and out into the hall. They all made their way into the hallway as the crowd just outside the courtroom doors was thinning.

“You know where they’re headed… home to try and raise a million dollars cash. Hey, let’s go get tea or coffee, OK?” Hailey said. The thought of going back to her empty hotel room after a blow like this was too much.

“Coffee? Are you kidding? I need a drink after this!”

“OK. You get a drink. I’ve got a tea bag with me. I’m gonna duck into the ladies room. You get the car and I’ll meet you in front of the courthouse?”

“Sure. Then I’ll take you to get your rental car and you’ll follow?”

“OK.” Hailey pushed the door open to the ladies room.

“And be careful when you come out the front door. I’m sure Mike Walker and Snoop are there to ambush you for a sound bite!”

“I’ll be ready.” Hailey smiled. She was trying her best to hide her shock at the verdict. True, it wasn’t a not guilty, but no matter how you sliced it, a hung jury was a huge setback for the state… and for Julie and Lily. Much less Dana and Malcolm Love.

She pulled out her cell phone to call home and tell her folks about the mistrial, but suddenly she spotted a lady’s feet next to a silver canister on wheels under one of the two stall doors. She clicked off. She didn’t want to say what she really thought about the Todd Adams mistrial with his mom in the very next stall beside her.

Hailey went into the remaining stall, balancing all her gear, and heard Tish Adams open the metal door beside her and roll the tank to the sink. The tiny, tiled bathroom was quiet now. The hall outside it was empty.

The night was dark outside the bathroom’s one tiny window. It was late, the trial was done, the courthouse closed, and all the court watchers who had, for weeks on end, packed the Todd Adams courtroom were all gone home and back to their lives. The show was over.

Hailey heard the metallic twist of the water faucet over the white ceramic sinks and the sound of water in the sink. Opening the door, Hailey saw Tish Adams looking into the mirror over the sinks. Her face was pale and white in the mirror, her lips the only color on her face. Lipstick in one hand, Tish reached to turn the faucet off with the other and, juggling, her purse slid down her shoulder onto the tile. Its contents-Kleenex, powder, pill bottles, checkbook, and a sprinkling of other items-poured onto the tile. Tish started to lean down to put it all back in when Hailey interjected.

“No, let me, Mrs. Adams.”

“Thank you, Hailey,” she said it in somewhat of a stiff voice, which Hailey totally understood, given Hailey had been on the state’s witness list in her son’s murder prosecution. Hailey got it. Nevertheless, she knelt down to help the woman who seemed literally at the end of her rope after the trial.

Hailey picked up the items one by one, placing them back into the purse. The powder compact had come open and the powder puff had gotten loose. Putting it back in, Hailey saw the compact’s mirror was cracked.

“Careful, your mirror’s cracked.” Still on her knees, Hailey looked up at Tish Adams.

Then she saw it. Hailey’s green eyes were directly even with Tish Adams’s oxygen tank. And it was there. The knob on the top, the twist mechanism on top of the canister… she’d seen it before. Not the many, many times she’d watched Tish Adams leaning heavily on it in court or walking around the courthouse with it… she’d seen it somewhere else.

Black plastic, about the size of a Gatorade screw top but not quite, with a peculiar edge to it. An image flashed in her mind. An image of the floorboard in the back of her rental car, scattered with trash from the otherwise immaculate yard of Alton Turner. The round rubber cap wasn’t a bottle cap. It fit on Tish’s tank.

A chill went across Hailey’s arms. Tish Adams’s open purse in her lap, Hailey looked down into it again, and there, peeking out from under a red leather ladies wallet beside a thin folded yellow scarf, was the pale green and gold edging of a tall pack of Virginia Slims. Hailey looked from the cigarettes to the oxygen tank’s hard plastic valve cap, to the coppery-red lipstick on Tish Adams’s lips and stood up, looking Adams unflinchingly in the eyes.

“You.” Hailey uttered the one word, taking a step back from Adams, whose eyes were no longer tired-looking or teary. They were burning with a light… a zeal Hailey had never seen before in what appeared to be a frail and suffering middle-aged woman. A mother, for Pete’s sake.