The prosecution successfully argued for Ms. de Vries’s testimony to be admitted as evidence as an exception to spousal privilege because of her involvement with Mr. Gardner’s alleged crimes.
On Monday and Tuesday, Ms. de Vries was questioned extensively by both the prosecution and the defense. She described finding false documents in her husband’s study, discovering Hungarian strangers in her property in Newton, MA, who appeared to be prostitutes, and dropped the bombshell that her husband had hidden his own Hungarian name and identity from her for the duration of their marriage.
“It’s the reason I immediately changed my name back to de Vries,” she told the jury. “For ten years I believed I was married to someone named Calvin Gardner. Imagine my shock when I discovered his real name was Károly Kertész.”
Gardner’s defense, however, was quick to rebut, objecting to Ms. de Vries’s commentary as speculation, and then argued there was nothing inherently wrong with changing one’s name and that the majority of Ms. de Vries’s testimony amounted to little more than hearsay.
“Immigrants have been changing their names upon arriving in this country from its beginning,” said Mr. Gardner’s attorney in a statement. “It’s about as American as apple pie. Mr. Gardner has done nothing but support his wife and family for more than a decade. Perhaps Ms. de Vries’s discomfort with Mr. Gardner’s original name reveals more about her own bigotry than anything he has supposedly done to her. Or perhaps this is simply the remnant of Ms. de Vries’s grievances against her husband that she intends to air during their divorce.”
Whether that is the case or not is ultimately up to the jury. A verdict is expected sometime next week.
April 2019
“And have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.”
Calvin Gardner edged forward on his seat, ignoring the way the back of his khaki gabardine pants stuck to his thighs with sweat or the way the hard wood chair dug into his hamstrings. His palms were clammy as he wiped them together in anticipation, and the brass buttons on his navy blazer clinked on the edge of the table.
According to his lawyers—overpriced hacks who had taken over the case only after he had promised to bring his divorce case to the firm as well—they had a good chance. But the deliberation, at seven full days, had been longer than usual. Nina, goddamn her, was a sympathetic witness, even if the sharks next to him had seemed to tear apart every word she said. Still, he couldn’t deny the way his heart thumped when she described Ben perfectly. He knew he shouldn’t have given them the Brookline house. It was easily his worst move, catching her attention when nothing else had. Plus, everyone liked blondes. Especially ones that looked like her.
Unable to help himself, Gardner stole a look over his shoulder. There she was in the third row, patiently waiting with her hands clasped in her lap, the only sign of nerves the way her lip was clenched between her teeth.
She was dressed nearly devoid of color again. An ice-gray coat with a high collar that, along with her hair, tended to give her an angel-like appearance, but were fitting in other ways. Devoid of personality, yet too pure to spoil. “Suffragette white, of course,” his lawyer had joked when she had taken the stand last week. Gardner hadn’t found it funny. The idea that she had been silently protesting him for years made Gardner want to jump over the desk and throttle her there and then.
When she realized that he was looking at her, Nina startled like she was one of her damn horses on Long Island.
Gardner leered. She looked away. Bitch.
“We the jury, in the case of The City of New York versus Calvin Gardner, find the defendant…”
Gardner leaned forward, causing his chair to creak loudly through the courtroom.
“…not guilty of the charge of human trafficking in the first degree.”
There was a minor thrill of voices through the gallery. Behind him, Gardner heard his wife gasp: “What?”
He smiled, feeling his entire chest balloon with relief and pride.
And so they went on, down the list of charges, one after another. Gardner did his best to maintain a placid expression, but inside, he howled with victory. He had won. He had won, in spite of those fucking threats from Janus and the clout that Eric de Vries thought he had over this goddamn city. Blackmailing the judge had been a last-minute effort, but it had paid off in the end when he had tossed out more than half the prosecution’s evidence. Certain types of men couldn’t say no to underage pussy, and this one was no different. It had been a risk—a huge risk.
“Congratulations,” said Clyde, turning to Gardner with an outstretched hand.
Of course the smug fucker was happy. He’d practically bankrupted Gardner in the process of this trial. But freedom was better than jail, even with nothing to his name. For now.
“And the restraining order?” Puffed with satisfaction, Gardner watched his wife stand, white-faced.
Clyde smiled, revealing a row of stained, horsey teeth. “She was only able to have it extended through the trial. As of now, you’re a free man.”
“Not free yet. Now you need to get me my money.”
“Our money,” said Clyde. “There’s the matter of that settlement de Vries offered, too. We need to talk about that. Harvey doesn’t think you’ll get any more. And I don’t have to remind you of your bill, Mr. Gardner.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gardner said distractedly as he watched Nina making her escape. Beyond the doors was a hoard of photographers, already shouting her name.
