Balance of Power

    'Please state your name for the record,' Nolan said to Lara.

    'Lara Costello Kilcannon,' she replied, and the deposition began.

* * *

    In the first few moments, Nolan established that she once had had a living mother, Inez; a sister, Joan; and a six-year-old niece, Marie. To Lara, the familiarity with which he spoke their names was an affront.

    'When,' Nolan inquired, 'did you first realize that John was abusing your sister?'

    'During a trip to San Francisco with my husband, shortly after the President was elected.' She paused briefly. 'When I went to see Joan she had bruises on her face.'

    'How long had this abuse been going on?'

    'I don't know, exactly. But I gather for some time.'

    Nolan raised his eyebrows. 'Why is it that you didn't know?'

    It was starting, Lara knew—the implication, slowly planted, that Joan's negligent family, by failing to help or intervene, had sown the seeds of its own tragedy. Part of her tensed with anger; another part wished to cry out in grief and protest, pleading for exculpation. But this deposition was not a human process, and Nolan far from her confessor. 'I'm afraid,' she responded coolly, 'that only Joan can answer that.'

    Though expressionless himself, Nolan paused. 'Then why do you believe that it had been happening for some time?'

    'Joan indicated that to my husband.'

    'In your presence?'

    'No.'

    Facing Nolan, Gold leaned forward between Lara and her interrogator, palm raised to interrupt the questioning. 'To the extent that the question asks the witness to divulge confidential conversations between husband and wife, that is covered by the marital privilege, which exists to protect the sanctity of that relationship. As to those, the witness will not answer.'

    Coldly, Nolan asked Lara, 'Is it your position, Mrs. Kilcannon, that you will refuse to provide any information about your sister's abuse—or the circumstances leading to her murder—if you discussed them with your husband?'

    Lara paused, gripped by disbelief that this obtrusive stranger could keep her in this stifling room, forcing her to parse his twistings of a tragedy which had seared her soul forever, and about which he cared nothing. 'No,' she answered. 'Mr. Gold stated my position. Why don't you have the reporter read it back.'

    Lara felt the others watching, tense and quiet. Nolan seemed to gauge her, weighing his choices.

    'Did you ever,' he demanded of Lara, 'discuss with Joan, your sister, her history of abuse?'

    'Not my sister, Joan. Was there some other Joan you were curious about?'

    Across the table, she saw Nolan assimilate the dimensions of their contest: Lara felt under no compunction to cater to him, and was determined not to indulge the human impulse to justify her actions or inac tions. She would reserve any display of her humanity—with its more elaborate answers—for the jury.

    'Were there,' Nolan persisted, 'strains in your relationship with Joan?'

    'Not on my part. My deepest regret is that I was so far away, in Washington or overseas . . .'

    'What about on Joan's part?'

    'Joan always knew I loved her. I'm only sorry that she's not here to reassure you of that herself.'

    Nolan leaned forward. 'For what reason, then, did you never discuss with her what must have been a nightmare of abuse?'

    Lara folded her hands in front of her. 'Because it was a nightmare, and I knew she was ashamed. Kerry was also family, and a former domestic violence prosecutor—the best possible person for Joan to talk with. It seemed cruel to make her repeat the painful facts to me in person, just out of some warped sense I was entitled to that as her sister. Helping Joan was about what was best for her, not me.'

    Once more, she watched Nolan calculate how to find the iceberg of dysfunction he seemed certain lurked beneath her answers. Abruptly, he asked, 'Precisely how did you help her, Mrs. Kilcannon?'

    'Through my husband.'

    Faced with the same cul-de-sac, Nolan shifted ground. 'Did you refer her to a counselor?'

    'No.'

    'Did you call the police on her behalf?'

    'No.'

    'Or the District Attorney?'

    'No.'

    'What about her protection? Did you play any role in that?'

    'Outside of conversations with my husband? Not directly.'

    'Did you think her protection was adequate?'

    In a spasm of memory, Lara saw the Eagle's Claw bullet ripping through Joan's jaw. Softly, she answered, 'At the time. What your client did was beyond our imaginings. As my husband may have mentioned.'

    Nolan placed his palms on the table. 'To be clear, Mrs. Kilcannon, what do you believe my client did?'

    'Specifically? Lure a spousal abuser to a gun show in Las Vegas, where he could buy its deadly weapons without a background check, the better to kill my mother, niece and the sister for whom you're showing such concern.' Swiftly, Lara thought of Kerry's plans. 'As far as I know, Lexington is still doing that, and still more people will die as a result. Or have they at last started protecting people like Joan?'

    Nolan stared at her. 'Did you . . .'

    'Are you,' Lara cut in, 'going to answer my question?'

    Nolan managed a brief smile. 'I'm sorry, Mrs. Kilcannon. But as Professor Gold may have informed you, depositions are a one way street. I'm only a lawyer here . . .'

    'With no moral responsibility as to whether your client still makes its guns available to prospective murderers, and sells them bullets to help ensure that they succeed. Will you at least have the decency to be embarrassed if you find out that they do?'

    Nolan's smile vanished. 'Did you,' he persisted, 'transfer your obligation to help your sister to your husband?'

    'No, Mr. Nolan. My husband acted on our behalf.'

    'And on behalf of his own political interests?'

    Lara paused, marshalling anew her air of calm. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Nolan. I don't understand your question.'

    'Then let me approach it another way. Was the decision to expose John Bowden's abusive nature on television driven by politics?'

    'No . . .'

    'Specifically, Mrs. Kilcannon, to eliminate a major distraction from your televised wedding, and the political boost it was intended to give the President.'

    'Oh, come off it,' Lenihan interjected in a tone of disgust. Beside her, Avram Gold leaned forward. 'That's not merely out of bounds, Mr. Nolan. It's offensive, insulting and outrageous.'

    'Even worse,' Lara said with a tenuous smile, 'it's wrong.'