Alan Jacobson - False accusations

He was wearing a navy blue suit with a stark white shirt and a silk tie that was emblazoned with a brilliant red paisley pattern. His hair was immaculately styled and his face was dean shaven, lightly bronzed, and taut. It was Leeza’s suggestion that he spend yesterday afternoon at a salon getting a tan, followed by a massage, facial, and haircut. It allowed him to collect his thoughts, spruce up for the coming event, and relax.

As he entered the courtroom, the olive-uniformed bailiff led him to the witness chair. He glanced toward the jury. They appeared focused, students with pens and pads poised, as if he were the guest lecturer about to provide answers that were needed for their final exam.

This was the climax of the prosecution’s case, the make-or-break point. It was the jury’s opportunity to meet the man who was such an integral focus of this case. This was their chance to scrutinize him, to decide whether he was credible, worthy of their vote of confidence against Harding.

Both Denton and Hellman had decided that if the jurors believed Madison-particularly if they took a liking to him-they would feel the opposite toward Harding. The verdict would already be decided by the time they sat down to begin their deliberations.

“Dr. Madison,” Denton said at 9:15, “a few moments ago you outlined your medical credentials, appointments, and accomplishments. A rather long list. I bet you’re proud of them.”

“I am. I’ve worked hard for each one of them.”

“How about your activities outside of medicine?”

“I have a wife and two young children.”

“Doesn’t leave much time for anything else, does it?” Denton asked.

“No, it doesn’t,” Madison said with a chuckle.

“But you have been involved in other things, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us about those activities?”

“I served as president of the American Heart Association for two years, I was a board member for the American Cancer Society and the Sacramento Symphony, and until recently, I served on the River City Theater Company’s board of directors. I’ve been a board member and vice president of the Consortium for Citizens with Mental Retardation. I’m currently president of the Consortium.”

“Do you get any compensation for any of this?”

“Are you asking me if I get paid?”

“Yes. Money or other benefits of any sort.”

“No. It’s volunteer work. I don’t receive anything. Other than the satisfaction of doing something to help others.”

“Dr. Madison, do you give money to charitable interests?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Approximately, how much did you give to nonprofit causes last year?”

“A little over eighteen thousand dollars.”

“Thank you, sir.” Denton and Madison had worked on this preamble in advance, and appeared to be in a rhythm together. He proceeded to ask him about his relationship with Brittany Harding, how he came to meet her, his dealings with her, and his conversations with Michael Murphy when it became apparent that she was providing less than a stellar performance as interim administrative officer.

“And how did she react when you suggested to her that she should submit a job application for the position she was temporarily holding?”

“She was angry, surprised.”

“Objection,” Warwick said from his seat. “The witness couldn’t possibly have known my client’s state of mind unless he’s also a world-class clairvoyant.”

“Your Honor,” whined Denton.

“Cut the sarcasm, Mr. Warwick. Objection sustained.”

“Dr. Madison,” Denton said, “in your opinion, how did Miss Harding appear to you after informing her that she would have to apply for the position?”

“I thought she looked angry, and surprised.”

“Did she ever submit an application?”

“I don’t believe she did.”

“Let’s move on to the rape accusations that she made against you.” He took Madison through his side of the story, her unexpected appearance at his house, the examination, her two phone calls.

“And after she left, did you notice anything missing?”

“Not until sometime after, when my wife couldn’t find her set of keys to my car.”

“Where were they usually kept?”

“On a hook in our kitchen, next to the telephone.”

“When was it that she noticed the keys were missing?”

“It was after Brittany Harding was at my house, I don’t remember the exact date. They were spare keys, not something my wife used very often. And she was…away for a while. I think it was about a week after she got back that she realized the keys were missing.”

“Why was your wife away?”

Madison shifted a bit in his seat, leaned forward, glanced over at the jury, then looked back at Denton. “She took the kids and left me.”

“And why was that?”

“It started a couple of days after Miss Harding lost her job at the Consortium. I was outside my house pruning the rose bushes. The defendant drove up, got out of her car, and started screaming at me. Something about my having slept with her, and that she’d get even by going to the police for what I did to her. I didn’t know what she was talking about. But my wife saw the entire fiasco.”

“Did Miss Harding follow through with her threat?”

“She filed a complaint with the police, and they investigated me.”

“This was, what, five weeks after she alleged the rape to have occurred?”

“Yes. It was obviously an attempt at revenge, at getting back-”

“Objection,” Warwick said, jumping up from his seat. “I thought we established the witness isn’t telepathic-”

“Sustained. Dr. Madison,” Calvino said, “please only tell us what you know, and do not speculate on the thoughts of others.”

Madison nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What happened after the police investigated you?”

Madison described his meetings with the two detectives, and related the fact that his attorney was then approached for monetary compensation by Movis Ehrhardt, over the threat of mass media exposure of the alleged rape.

“It was the same thing she did to an ex-employer of hers a couple of years back-extortion.”

“Objection!” Warwick shouted.

Calvino looked over at Madison. “Doctor, please refrain from making comments unless it deals with something you have direct knowledge about.”

“Doctor,” continued Denton, attempting to brush over the admonition. It was crucial that Madison be seen in a favorable light by the jury. “What happened next?”

“I paid her. My attorney and I felt it was less damaging to pay her the money and stop her from going to the media with this bogus accusation than risk ruining my career.” He looked over at Harding, his eyes fixed and his gaze hard. She stared him down. “A couple of days later, my wife received a manila envelope in the mail with a copy of the check I had written to the defendant, as well as a copy of the written agreement outlining the terms of the settlement. There was also a picture of myself and the defendant.” He paused and shook his head, out of disbelief. Tears welled up in his eyes. “My wife didn’t know about the payment. When she got all this stuff in the mail, she didn’t know what to think, and I was away at a surgery conference. She took the kids and left.”

Denton paused, giving the jury a moment to reflect on his witness’s grief.

A moment later, Madison cleared his throat. “My attorney was able to get the money returned because she’d broken our agreement.”

“Why didn’t you tell your wife about the settlement?”

“My friend thought it would upset her, that it wasn’t worth dragging her into it. At the time, I thought he was right. But later, I realized I should’ve discussed it with her.”