Angry red fire lit up Trimble’s face. He burst into motion, turning toward the judge’s bench. “Colonel, I must object to this kind of treatment. It’s egregious.”
“It also,” Megan snapped, “happens to be the truth. If you could have found something like that against me, you would have had a witness up here testifying to that.”
“Mrs. Gander,” Erickson said, “I will have order in the courtroom.”
“Yes, sir,” she said but stared at Trimble.
“Major, continue your questioning.”
Trimble pulled at the bottom of his uniform jacket and gathered himself. “Mrs. Gander, do you have a history of psychological impairment?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had a coworker, another counselor, mention that you were under a lot of stress?”
Megan thought about that one for a moment, then realized that any interview with any of her coworkers who knew her would have turned up only one answer. “Yes,” she said.
“Has that been mentioned on more than one occasion?”
“Yes.”
“By more than one coworker?”
“Yes.”
Trimble nodded as if he were completely satisfied. He turned and faced the jury of twelve army personnel—officers and enlisted men and women. “Have you ever been treated for stress?”
“No.”
“Oh really?” Trimble turned on her. “Have you never taken part of the day off after a particularly unsavory encounter with a teen in your charge?”
Megan knew she had no choice. “Yes.”
“At another counselor’s recommendation?”
“Yes.”
“By different counselors at different times?”
“Yes.”
“By different counselors concerning the same day?”
Like when Jill Thompson tried to commit suicide? Megan thought. “Yes.”
“Did you take those days off?”
“Sometimes.”
“But not always?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t feel like I had to.”
Trimble pinned her with his gaze. “Was that your professional opinion?”
Megan squelched her anger. “Yes.”
“Mrs. Gander, have you ever heard the advice that a physician treating himself or herself has a fool for a patient?”
“Yes.”
“Would you say the same thing about counselors?”
Megan took a breath in and let it out. “Yes.”
“Yet, did you not refuse the advice of professionals in seeking some relief for your own emotional stress?”
“I did. And I managed on those days just fine.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Trimble retreated to his desk and glanced at notes.
Megan felt the silence in the courtroom grow unbearable.
Trimble spoke without turning around. “Were you stressed the night you went into Leslie Hollister’s home?”
Megan’s gut clenched. She felt immediately vulnerable. The MPs’ testimonies about that night had been unshakable. Leslie had even signed a statement that she felt Megan was to blame for her shooting herself. Megan understood the girl’s motivation, though. She was a teen and having something like that be her fault was too much.
“Not any more than anyone else has been these past few days,” Megan answered.
Trimble turned around. “Mrs. Gander, where is your husband?”
“In Turkey.”
“Fighting against the Syrians in what is very likely to be a losing proposition?”
“That’s what the news says. I believe in my husband.”
“Your husband is not an army, Mrs. Gander.”
“No,” she said, “but First Sergeant Sam Gander is one of the finest soldiers the U.S. Army has ever turned out, and I know he’ll do his best to do his duty and come home.”
A few of the soldiers in the audience nodded and smiled.
“I’m sure he’ll do his best, Mrs. Gander. But are you convinced that he will come home?”
Megan searched her heart for the truth but was scared of what she’d come up with. She knew God existed, that God had raptured the church, but she wasn’t sure God cared. If God cared, would He have let her be put on trial to possibly lose her freedom and her family’s financial stability?
“Mrs. Gander,” Trimble prompted.
Still she didn’t answer.
“I’m not asking for a percentage figure, Mrs. Gander. Just an acknowledgment that you have been and are concerned about your husband’s well-being.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“So that was on your mind that night?”
“Probably.”
“Yes or no, Mrs. Gander. ‘Probably’ isn’t much of an answer.”
“Yes,” Megan said.
“That was on your mind that night?”
“Yes.”
Trimble stepped back in front of her. “Didn’t you also lose a son to this phenomenon?”
Megan’s eyes teared as she tried to hold back her anger. “Don’t you use my baby against me,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare do that.”
“Colonel,” Trimble said, his eyes never leaving Megan’s, “please instruct the witness to answer the question.”
“What kind of man are you?” Megan demanded.
“I’m a man trying to get at the truth of that night,” Trimble said in a quiet voice. “Colonel.”
“It’s no surprise to me that you were left behind,” Megan said. “There you stand in your uniform, wrapped in all the pomposity of your office, and you don’t stand with God.”
Trimble’s face went livid. “How dare you!”
The colonel banged his gavel. “Mrs. Gander, that’s enough.”
Megan barely restrained herself. She forced herself to breathe out. “Yes, Colonel.”
“I want no more outbursts like that,” Erickson said. “And you will answer the major’s questions.”
Megan nodded.
Trimble straightened his uniform blouse again. “Did you lose a son to the phenomenon?”
“Yes.” Megan made herself grow cold and distant inside. God, how can You allow this? She barely held back her tears, restraining them only because she knew Trimble would react to them like a shark would to blood in the water.
“Was the stress of your son’s loss on your mind the night you dealt with Leslie Hollister?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have another son, named Joey?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where Joey is?”
Megan cursed Trimble, knowing that the man knew more than she had expected.
Benbow stood. “Colonel, I fail to see the relevance of Mrs. Gander’s other son in these proceedings.”
“Colonel, these events all help demonstrate the frame of mind Mrs. Gander has been in for several weeks.” Trimble never took his eyes from Megan. “In addition to her oldest son’s present status as a runaway, the boy has been of some trouble to Mrs. Gander for some time. These things all add up, Colonel. I want to show that Mrs. Gander was unfit for her role as counselor at the time she worked with Leslie Hollister and Gerry Fletcher.”
“I’ll allow it,” the colonel said. “Lieutenant, sit down.”
Benbow
