The Family Lawyer

  Finally, Debra asks, “You had a meeting about this case several months ago with Mr. Hovanes, didn’t you, Brianna?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t tell him about a fight between Hailey and Farah, did you?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t tell him you thought Hailey’s tackle during practice was a dirty play.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “In fact, you said you didn’t really know anything about a dispute between Hailey and Farah.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Debra sits down. That’s all she can do. On cross-examination, you don’t ask “why” if you don’t know the answer already.

  But Lundy has another shot on redirect, and he can ask the why question. “Brianna, why didn’t you say anything to Mr. Hovanes about the fight?”

  “Because I was afraid.”

  “Afraid of who?”

  “Hailey Hovanes. And her brother, Daniel.”

  “Physically?”

  “Not physically of Hailey, really. I am afraid of Daniel physically. He’s really big, and everyone knows he’s kind of crazy. I really believe…I think one or both of them drove Farah to kill herself. I saw Daniel talking to Farah a couple of times. Real intense discussions, you know? Sometimes…well, Hailey can use the threat of her brother to get what she wants. Everyone knew Farah was messed up. She just wanted to have friends. Who doesn’t? Hailey wouldn’t allow that.”

  The answer is objectionable speculation, but Debra doesn’t dare object. It will only make things worse.

  “Have you finished your answer?” Lundy asks.

  “No sir. I”—she glances at me for the first time—“I was also afraid of Mr. Hovanes. My parents told him that he couldn’t talk to me if they weren’t there, and he didn’t listen. He ambushed me at the coffee place and sat down at a table in the corner where I couldn’t get out. He kept asking me these questions, telling me what to say. I thought if I told him about the fight he’d get mad at me, and then what would Hailey and Daniel do to me if they found out?”

  Chapter 26

  Mercifully, Judge Sears calls the morning recess, and we retreat to our dank, stuffy attorneys’ conference room, while Lundy, the son of a bitch, takes the elevator up six floors to his air-conditioned office. I’m sure he’s gloating, holding court with those sycophants he calls his assistants.

  Hailey sits at the head of the table. Debra and I flank her.

  I say, “Hailey, I can’t believe—”

  “I’ll handle this,” Debra says, her tone so peremptory that I shut up and Hailey’s eyes widen to oversized bottle caps. “Did Farah Medhipour come up to you and ask you to stop bullying her, Hailey?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

  “I didn’t think it was important.”

  “You didn’t think it was important?” Debra stands. “I have better things to do than listen to this.” She storms out of the room. I can’t blame her.

  “You attacked Farah in the locker room,” I say. “Did you think that was unimportant, too?”

  She looks down at the table. “I knew it was important. That’s why I pretended it never happened. Sometimes I do that. Like when you and Mom fight, or Daniel—”

  “Don’t hand me that bullshit. This has nothing to do with how much your parents argue or how your brother behaves. You threatened that girl with physical harm.”

  “I didn’t mean it. Kids at school were beginning to talk, saying shit like Farah and me had something going on sexually. It was embarrassing.”

  “Did you send those e-mails to her?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do it? I wouldn’t know how to send anonymous e-mails anyway.”

  “You could’ve had help. Daniel or Aaron.”

  “I didn’t have help because I didn’t do it.”

  “You threatened Farah knowing she was fragile. You’re strong, Hailey. The strong should never attack the weak.”

  “Maybe I’m not so strong, Dad.”

  Debra walks back in and shakes her head. “Lundy smells blood.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “What?” Hailey asks.

  “Debra approached the prosecutor about the plea deal we talked about before.” I know this because that’s what I’d do if the roles were reversed.

  “I thought we agreed no deal,” Hailey says.

  “That was before Brianna made you look like a serial bully,” Debra says.

  Hailey regards me with a look of genuine fear, and suddenly my sixteen-year-old daughter seems old. Not like a precocious child who’s poised and sophisticated beyond her years, but old like an elderly, world-weary person. Her bearing jolts me back into reality. She’s a kid, and no matter what she’s done, she deserves a chance at redemption. That’s how we treat our children in a civilized society. This trial isn’t over.

  “We’d better get back,” I say. “We’re already late.”

  Chapter 27

  We enter the courtroom just four minutes late, but Judge Sears has already seated the jury in the box. Usually, judges wait until all counsel are present before calling in the jury. Lundy is at the lectern, and the witness is on the stand. Sears is a control freak, and this is his way of punishing us for our tardiness. My son would call it a dick move. He’d be right, especially because the witness is Farah’s mother, Shirin Medhipour.

  I’m sure the judge expects me to apologize, but it’s not going to happen. This is no time to appear obsequious.

  “Proceed, Mr. Lundy,” the judge says, glowering down at me.

  Shirin testifies that her daughter was a smart, talented girl who loved soccer and who just wanted to have friends. She was too sensitive for her own good, socially awkward, but a sweet child. Shirin’s husband walked out when Farah was only four years old, so Farah was her best friend—her life. Still, growing up without a father was hard for the girl.

  “Did your daughter tell you she was being bullied at school?” Lundy asks.

  Shirin takes a deep breath. “No. I learned about it after from the therapist. Farah was afraid I’d complain to the school and make it worse. Victims of bullies don’t always speak to their parents. I wish she had told me. Farah and I were so close, and yet, she couldn’t talk to me, her own mother.” There are tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”

  “It’s understandable that you’d cry,” Lundy says.

  It’s an objectionable statement, but I don’t dare object.

  Lundy elicits testimony about the horror of finding Farah dead, a horror compounded by watching that video.

  “Farah was always saying such nice things about Hailey Hovanes,” Shirin volunteers. “I truly believed them to be close friends. Farah didn’t have many friends, and I was happy that she had an older girl as a mentor. A soccer player, too. I had no idea what was really going on.”

  Several jurors appear on the verge of tears. Others glare at Hailey. The jury clearly sympathizes with Shirin. I sympathize with Shirin.

  “No further questions,” Lundy says solemnly.

  “Cross-examination?” the judge asks.

  I’m sure he and Lundy expect me to pass the witness because she’s unimpeachable. They’re wrong.

  As I’m about to stand, Debra grabs my sleeve. “Let me do this. Better coming from a woman.”

  “If I’m not up there, the jury will think I’m running.”

  She nods.

  “Did you physically abuse your daughter, Miss Medhipour?” I ask. This is the bombshell that I could’ve asked the psychiatrist but saved for Shirin.

  The courtroom is abuzz with reproach. There’s no doubt that the jury thinks I’m an ogre, a man whose daughter became a bully because he’s a bully himself.

  Lundy shouts, “Objection!” though he gives no grounds. He has no grounds, because my question is relevant.

  Judge Sears gives me a hard stare, and I look back at him just as
hard. He nods his head slightly. “Overruled. The witness will answer.”

  “Never,” Shirin says, her eyes agape. “I did not touch Farah. I would never.”

  “Did you argue with Farah?”

  “All teenagers argue. But no, we did not argue much.”

  “How long was Farah in therapy?”

  “We tried a child psychologist for the first time when she was seven. The kids were teasing her, and Farah became sad—depressed. We tried several psychologists, but they did no good. The middle school counselor recommended Dr. Tyler, a psychiatrist, who could prescribe medication. Dr. Tyler helped a lot. Or so I believed.”

  “Why was Farah seeing Dr. Tyler?”

  “Same reason. Farah was still having trouble with other children, was depressed.”

  “Bullied by other children?”

  “Teased. Middle school was more difficult for her. Children that age…I just wanted to help my daughter to be well and happy. And Farah was improving, especially when she started ninth grade, until…until your daughter—”

  I hold up my hand like a traffic cop, and she doesn’t finish her thought. “Now, Greenbriar Insurance Company provided your health insurance?”

  “Yes.”

  Debra projects a document on the courtroom monitors as I hand a physical copy to the court clerk. “I’d like to have marked as next in order a billing statement from Greenbriar Insurance Company showing a claim for reimbursement for Farah Medhipour. This form comes from the psychiatric file, already admitted into evidence. Please tell me if you recognize this document, Miss Medhipour.”

  “I have never seen this,” she says.

  “I’m not surprised. This is a form that doctors use. But I want to refer you to the box for DSM coding. Do you know that DSM stands for the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association? A catalogue of mental disorders?”

  “I know this because of Farah’s problems, yes.”

  “And the box for DSM is coded ‘roman numeral V15.41 & 15.42 – non-reimbursable.’”

  “I have no idea what that is.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you, Miss Medhipour. I’ll represent to the Court, and we’ll recall Dr. Tyler if necessary, that these entries mean that there’s no insurance coverage for physical abuse in childhood and psychological abuse in childhood. Which means that Farah’s psychiatrist believes that abuse was a contributing factor to her condition.”

  The courtroom falls silent. Then there are murmurs of surprise and comprehension, which grow louder as the import of this document sinks in.

  “Farah had problems,” Shirin says. “Sometimes she would exaggerate…I did not abuse Farah, ever.”

  “How about her uncle?”

  “Never.”

  “Sometimes Farah would say bad things about people even if they weren’t true?”

  “Sometimes, yes. That must be why Dr. Tyler…” She catches herself, too late.

  “So, it would be just like Farah to make up this entire story about my daughter bullying her?”

  “No, she…” She stops talking because there’s no way out for her.

  Chapter 28

  Ethan Gold calmly testifies to what he told me—that Hailey sent texts telling other kids to ostracize Farah. And like Brianna, he reveals something he hid from me.

  “At anytime in the two weeks before Farah Medhipour died, were you shown a photograph of Hailey Hovanes and Farah Medhipour together?” Lundy asks.

  “Yes, sir.” These pampered kids have no regard for the truth, apparently. And that goes for my daughter.

  “Please describe it.”

  Debra is handling Ethan’s cross-examination, so she stands and objects. “The defense wasn’t provided with any such photograph. The testimony is improper under the best evidence rule.”

  “The defense doesn’t have it because the People don’t have a copy ourselves,” Lundy says. “Which means that the witness can testify to the contents of the photo under the best evidence rule.”

  “The objection is overruled,” Judge Sears says.

  Ethan glances at Hailey. “It’s kind of embarrassing. There was a group of the senior guys gathered around the weight room, laughing and stuff. They called me over, which was weird, because I was only a tenth grader. They were passing around this phone that had…it had this image of Hailey and Farah together, and”—he inhales deeply—“both girls were naked. It was, what do they call it, really suggestive?”

  Hailey gasps audibly.

  “How was the photo suggestive?”

  “I’d rather not—”

  “You have to answer, Ethan.”

  “Like maybe the girls were going to have sex. Or already had?”

  “Who did the cell phone belong to?”

  “Aaron Crawford. Hailey Hovanes’s boyfriend.”

  “I have no further questions,” Lundy says.

  I glance at Hailey, who’s flushed with anger and mortification. She huddles with Debra and me and says, “Farah took a photo of me while I was showering after a game. Then she photoshopped it to mash it up with a picture of her. I only wanted her to delete it, that’s all. I didn’t know Aaron…oh, my God.”

  “Cross-examination, Miss Grant?” the judge asks.

  Debra rises and goes to the podium at a deliberate speed. Which means she intends to cut Ethan to shreds. “You say you got texts from Hailey Hovanes asking you to shun Farah Medhipour?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And you in fact shunned Farah after getting that text, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. I never hung out with her in the first place, so…”

  “Did you think what Hailey was doing to Farah was nice? Fair?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “What did you do to help Farah?”

  “Nothing. Hailey wouldn’t have liked that.”

  “Has Hailey ever physically threatened you?”

  “No, she’s a girl. I don’t mean that in a sexist way, but…”

  “So Haley couldn’t beat you up. Could she affect where you’re going to go to college?”

  “How could she…? No.”

  “Make the teachers give you bad grades?”

  “No.”

  “Get you kicked off the lacrosse team?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Make you mother and father upset at you?”

  He shakes his head.

  “You grew up with Daniel Hovanes. Did you always get along with him?”

  “Yeah. We’re not friends anymore, but I’ve never had a problem with Daniel.”

  “He never threatened you?”

  “No. He’s fought with other kids, but never me.”

  “Do you have a crush on Hailey Hovanes?”

  Now he’s flustered. “Not really.”

  “Not really? Didn’t you tell Hailey the day before spring break that you wanted to be more than just friends?”

  He shrugs, and his cheeks become splotchy.

  “You wouldn’t fall in love with a girl you thought was a bad person, a girl who bullied people, would you, Ethan?” It’s a risky question, because the boy could answer it in so many damaging ways. But now, we have to take risks.

  “Objection,” Lundy says. “Irrelevant.”

  “Overruled,” the judge says. “Answer the question, young man.”

  “I guess not,” Ethan says.

  And then a line of questioning that sets up the cross-examination of the witness we know Lundy will call next.

  “Let’s talk about the photograph of Hailey and Farah that Aaron Crawford showed you. Did it look photoshopped?”

  “I only saw it for a second. But Aaron said it was real, so…”

  “Did Aaron tell you why he would show you a nude photograph of his girlfriend with another girl?” This is also a why question, but the answer can’t hurt us.

  “He was bragging about how it proved he had the hottest girlfriend in the whole school. That’s how Aaron is, I gu
ess. Always bragging about the girls he sleeps with. Or claims to.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I heard him do it. Even though I was only a sophomore, we both played on the lacrosse team. He even said some sexual stuff about Hailey once.”

  “Did you respond to him on that occasion?”

  “No, I…no. But I didn’t believe him.”

  “Because you thought Hailey was a nice girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did Aaron say anything else about why he was showing other boys a sexy photograph of his own girlfriend?”

  “He said he was looking forward to having a three-way with these hot athletic girls.”

  “No further questions,” Debra says.

  It was effective cross, but there’s no doubt that Lundy will use that photo to show that Hailey had a motive to want Farah dead.

  Chapter 29

  The People call Aaron Crawford.”

  The parade of adolescent liars continues.

  I force myself to look confident, even combative in front of the jury. Inside, I’m in turmoil. Debra was right when she warned me that I’d make mistakes if I took the lead. An objective, dispassionate, hired-gun defense attorney would’ve seen through Hailey’s bullshit, would’ve pushed her for the truth. He would’ve exposed Aaron as a creep long before trial.

  While Aaron walks to the witness stand, Hailey sits with hands folded, her face like granite, her eyes virulent. Just the impression she shouldn’t convey in front of this jury. Why the hell can’t she play the weepy school girl for once?

  Lundy announces that the district attorney’s office has entered into an immunity agreement with Aaron. In exchange for his testimony, he won’t be prosecuted for displaying a prurient picture of nude underage girls.

  “How did you come to be in possession of the photo of Farah and Hailey?” Lundy’s voice sounds taut, irritated. Even a jerk like Joshua Lundy can’t disguise his contempt for Aaron.

  “Farah texted it to me. It was a group text to me and Hailey.”

  “Did Farah write anything in the text?”

  “She wrote, ‘I’d love to fuck you both.’”

  “Did you talk to Hailey about the message?”