Michael Connelly - The Reversal

“I know it now. I wasn’t told about it back then.”

“Do you know who the semen was genetically identified as belonging to?”

“Yes, I was told it came from my stepfather.”

“Did that surprise you?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“Do you have any explanation for how it could have gotten on your dress?”

Now Royce objected, saying that the question called for speculation. It also called for the witness to diverge from the defense theory, but he didn’t mention that. Breitman sustained the objection and McPherson had to find another way of getting there.

“Sarah, prior to your sister borrowing your dress on the morning she was abducted, when was the last time you wore it?”

Royce stood and objected again.

“Same objection. We’re speculating about events twenty-four years old and when this witness was only thirteen years old.”

“Your Honor,” McPherson rejoined, “Mr. Royce was fine with this so-called speculation when it fit with the defense’s scheme of things. But now he objects as we get to the heart of the matter. This is not speculation. Ms. Gleason is testifying truthfully about the darkest, saddest days of her life and I don’t think-”

“Objection overruled,” Breitman said. “The witness may answer.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

As McPherson repeated the question Bosch studied the jury. He wanted to see if they saw what he saw-a defense attorney attempting to stop the forward progression of truth. Bosch had found Sarah Gleason’s testimony to be fully convincing up to this point. He wanted to hear what she had to say and his hope was that the jury was in the same boat and would look unkindly upon defense efforts to stop her.

“I wore it two nights before,” Gleason said.

“That would have been Friday night, the fourteenth. Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you wear the dress?”

“My mother was making a nice dinner for Valentine’s Day and my stepfather said we should get dressed up for it.”

Gleason was looking down again, losing all eye contact with the jurors.

“Did your stepfather engage in a sexual act with you on that night?”

“Yes.”

“Were you wearing the dress at the time?”

“Yes.”

“Sarah, do you know if your father ejac-”

“He wasn’t my father!”

She yelled it and her voice echoed in the courtroom, reverberating around a hundred people who now knew her darkest secret. Bosch looked at McPherson and saw her checking out the jury’s reaction. It was then Bosch knew that the mistake had been intentional.

“I am sorry, Sarah. I meant your stepfather. Do you know, did he ejaculate in the course of this moment with you?”

“Yes, and some of it got on my dress.”

McPherson studied her notes, flipping over several pages of her yellow pad. She wanted that last answer to hang out there as long as possible.

“Sarah, who did the laundry at your house?”

“A lady came. Her name was Abby.”

“After that Valentine’s Day, did you put your dress in the laundry?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was afraid Abby would find it and know what happened. I thought she might tell my mother or call the police.”

“Why would that have been a bad thing, Sarah?”

“I… my mother was happy and I didn’t want to ruin things for her.”

“So what did you do with the dress that night?”

“I cleaned off the spot and hung it in my closet. I didn’t know my sister was going to wear it.”

“So two days later when she wanted to put it on, what did you say?”

“She already had it on when I saw her. I told her that I wanted to wear it but she said it was too late because it wasn’t on my list of clothes I didn’t share with her.”

“Could you see the stain on the dress?”

“No, I looked and because it was down at the hem I didn’t see any stain.”

McPherson paused again. Bosch knew from the prep work that she had covered all the points she wanted to in this line of questioning. She had sufficiently explained the DNA that was the cause of everyone’s being here. She now had to take Gleason further down the road of her dark journey. Because if she didn’t, Royce certainly would.

“Sarah, did your relationship with your stepfather change after your sister’s death?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“He never touched me again.”

“Do you know why? Did you talk to him about it?”

“I don’t know why. I never talked to him about it. It just never happened again and he tried to act like it had never happened in the first place.”

“But for you, all of this-your stepfather, your sister’s death-it took a toll, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“In what way, Sarah?”

“Uh, well, I started getting into drugs and I ran away again. I ran away a lot, actually. I didn’t care about sex. It was something I used to get what I needed.”

“And were you ever arrested?”

“Yes, a bunch of times.”

“For what?”

“Drugs mostly. I got arrested once for soliciting an undercover, too. And for stealing.”

“You were arrested six times as a juvenile and five more times as an adult, is that correct?”

“I didn’t keep count.”

“What drugs were you taking?”

“Crystal meth mostly. But if there was something else available, I would probably take it. That was the way I was.”

“Did you ever receive counseling and rehabilitation?”

“A lot of times. It didn’t work at first and then it did. I got clean.”

“When was that?”

“About seven years ago. When I was thirty.”

“You’ve been clean for seven years?”

“Yes, totally. My life is different now.”

“I want to show you People’s exhibit thirteen, which is an intake and evaluation form from a private rehab center in Los Angeles called the Pines. Do you remember going there?”

“Yes, my mother sent me there when I was sixteen.”

“Was that when you first started getting into trouble?”

“Yes.”

McPherson distributed copies of the evaluation form to the judge, clerk and defense table.

“Okay, Sarah, I want to draw your attention to the paragraph I have outlined in yellow in the evaluation section of the intake form. Can you please read it out loud to the jury?”

“Candidate reports PTSD in regard to the murder of her younger sister three years ago. Suffers unresolved guilt associated with murder and also evinces behavior typical of sexual abuse. Full psych and physical evaluation is recommended.”

“Thank you, Sarah. Do you know what PTSD means?”

“Posttraumatic stress disorder.”

“Did you undergo these recommended evaluations at the Pines?”

“Yes.”

“Did discussion of your stepfather’s sexual abuse come up?”

“No, because I lied.”

“How so?”

“By then I’d had sex with other men, so I never mentioned my stepfather.”

“Before revealing what you have today in court, did you ever talk about your stepfather and his having sex with you with anyone?”

“Just you and Detective Bosch. Nobody else.”

“Have you been married?”

“Yes.”

“More than once?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t even tell your husbands about this?”

“No. It’s not the kind of thing you want to tell anybody. You keep it to yourself.”

“Thank you, Sarah. I have no further questions.”

McPherson took her pad and returned to her seat, where she was greeted with a squeeze on the arm by Haller. It was a gesture designed for the jury to see but by then all eyes were on Royce. It was his turn and Bosch’s measure of the room was that Sarah Gleason had everybody riding with her. Any effort by Royce to destroy her ran the strong risk of backfiring against his client.