Kathryn Fox: Blood Born

“Doctor Crichton.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Her mouth was dry. This was worse than being in the principal’s office, not that she’d ever been in trouble at school. But a hostile judge could make her testimony in any trial detrimental to a case. Lawyers might then consider her too high a risk as an expert witness and her work would quickly dry up. Her pulse raced and she felt a rash develop on the back of her neck. She despised this man, for what he did to Therese Brody, to his wife, and for the way he dismissed Bevan Hart’s reasons for what he did. Right now wasn’t the time to show it, though.

“You will remain a witness and I’ll permit Mr. Brody to call on you if you have an expert opinion that is relevant to the case. Again, if you repeat the ridiculous allegations against me, by the time I’m finished with you, you won’t have either an ounce of credibility or a cent to your name.”

Anya felt the rash heat as her anger rose. This man was abusing his power to threaten her, even after she’d tried to save him last night. She felt even angrier that Bevan Hart had died in front of him, and he wouldn’t even make reference to it.

“Do we all understand each other?”

Dan and Anya exchanged glances and muttered through near closed teeth, “Yes, Your Honor.”

Outside the chambers and courtrooms, Dan remained remarkably calm, while Anya began to seethe.

“He’s a rapist and a wife-beater, and he threatens us on ethics and credibility. Can he do that?”

Dan rubbed his chin. “If you don’t want to be charged with going around to his home, threatening him and assaulting him, yep, he can.”

“But you hit him! I tried to stop you.”

Dan tried to place his hands on her shoulders, but she pushed him away. “He’s going to make damn sure the Harbourns get acquitted and it’s because of us. What’s that going to do to Sophie Goodwin and her family? God, it’s just like Bevan Hart said. This is criminal.”

“Let’s think for a minute. He’s making me defend Gary Harbourn, who wants to plead insanity. Why?”

“Because then his sentence is dependent on some psychiatrist saying he’s on medication and is no longer insane. Easy, soft option. He’ll get the sexual assault charges dropped, because he thinks every girl consents to sex with any group of strange men. Water down the charges and insanity quickly becomes a soft option.”

“Or does it?”

Anya stopped pacing and looked up at the lawyer. “What do you mean? You have that sinister look you get just before you go in for the kill.”

“Trust me. I’m going to do exactly what Pascoe ordered. Are you with me?”

Benito Fiorelli stood in court.

“I wish to recall Doctor Anya Crichton to the stand.”

Anya entered the courtroom and saw Gary Harbourn sitting alongside Dan Brody at the defense table.

On the other sat Benito and his assistant, Sheree Elliott.

A jug of water and plastic cups sat on each table.

Noelene and her remaining children sat watching from the gallery.

Taking her place on the stand, Anya took a breath and glanced at Philip Pascoe. He glared back with contempt.

Instead of Benito questioning her, Sheree Elliott stood and buttoned her jacket.

“Your Honor, the jury has already been informed of Doctor Crichton’s qualifications, and I believe the defense has accepted her as an expert witness.”

“Correct, carry on.”

“Doctor, on 24 November have you ever had cause to treat a family member of the accused?”

“I did. Gary Harbourn’s sister, Savannah, presented at the sexual assault clinic.”

“Objection, Your Honor, the place of examination is irrelevant.”

“Jurors, you will disregard the doctor’s comment about the sexual assault aspect of the clinic.”

Anya had deliberately mentioned it. Juries prickled when they heard the phrase, and Pascoe had inadvertently helped it remain in their mind by repeating and drawing attention to the name.

“In what capacity did Savannah attend your specialty facility?”

“She had been brutally assaulted and needed urgent medical attention.”

“Can you describe her injuries?”

Brody’s chair scraped the floor as he stood, which, due to his size, had a dramatic effect.

“Objection, Your Honor, relevance?”

Fiorelli argued, “The injuries suffered by Savannah were relevant to her discussion with the doctor regarding the accused.”

“You may continue,” Pascoe said, his false eye lagging behind the other as he watched someone stand, nod and leave the courtroom.

“She had injuries consistent with having been hit multiple times on the face, possibly with a solid object. Her left eye, cheek and both lips were swollen and bruised. The left forearm was fractured and displaced, with obvious deformity when she presented.” Anya turned to the jury to demonstrate the swelling, using her own arm as the example. “This occurs when the bones are broken and pulled out of alignment. Savannah also had multiple contusions, or large bruises, on her back and ribs, consistent with the story she gave of having been kicked once she was beaten to the ground.”

Two female jurors squinted, as if trying to avoid the image.

Noelene coughed loudly from the gallery.

“Did you take photos of the injuries?”

“No, Savannah requested confidentiality about her visit and what she told me that night.”

“Did she intend to press charges against the person who inflicted her injuries?”

“No. She expressly wanted no one to know she had even been to the clinic.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said she was afraid that if her attacker found out she had gone to the hospital, he might think she had spoken to the police as well.”

Sheree looked at the jury. “Afraid? Of what?”

“She said she was afraid that she, or the person who brought her in, could be in serious danger of being killed. At one stage, she was concerned for her friend’s safety and mine as well.”

“Doctor, this sounds a little far-fetched. Did you doubt Savannah Harbourn’s reason for being so frightened?”

“No, I did not. Her fear appeared to be real and justified, given the severity of her injuries, because she knew her attacker and had regular contact with him. He also knew where she lived.”

“Objection,” Brody’s chair scraped backward, “this is an alleged attack. No one has been charged, and the doctor’s comments are only hearsay.”

“Which brings me to the next question, Your Honor.”

“Is it possible to call Savannah Harbourn to the stand?”

“No,” Anya answered. “She died in a hit and run accident shortly after I saw her.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Brody called.

The gallery murmured and the press took copious notes. Judge Pascoe ordered quiet and turned to Anya. “The cause of Miss Harbourn’s death is irrelevant to these proceedings. The jury will disregard the comments last made by the witness.”

But the damage had already been done.

Sheree went in for her version of the kill. “One more question. Doctor, did Savannah Harbourn tell you the name of the man she accused of violently beating her and causing her to fear for her life?”

“Yes. She said that the man who attacked her was her brother, Gary Harbourn.”

Gary jiggled his legs as he sat.

Sheree moved back to the prosecutor’s table and flicked through a file of pages, leaving the words to linger for maximum impact before she changed the line of questioning.

“Now, Doctor Crichton, did you examine the accused prior to interview regarding the homicide of Rachel Goodwin?”

“I did.”

“And what was your professional opinion regarding acute mental state?”