“Finish reading, please,” Abby says and makes sure to give Jackie an encouraging smile.
“‘Your baby is a’—” Jackie swallows audibly “—‘your baby is a grudge-fuck, ours is a love-fuck.’” Her voice has dropped to an almost inaudible whisper.
“A what now?” Dars says, and when Jackie just stares back at him mutely, he says impatiently to the court reporter, “What did she say?”
They all wait while the court reporter reads back the words in a slow, loud monotone, which has the effect of making the obscenity sound even worse. Dars is all smiles. “Next question,” he says to Abby.
“She’s not done,” Abby says, her eyes still on Jackie. “Keep reading, please.”
Dars leans forward and gives Jackie another naughty girl finger wag. “And make sure we can all hear you this time.”
“‘Travis doesn’t love you.’” Jackie’s voice has gone tinny. “‘All that happened was that you tricked him into believing that you were something other than the Mexican whore you really are.’” Abby hears a sharp intake of breath from the jury box. “‘He is going to leave you as soon as he can, but you could make things easier for everyone and clear out on your own. Just don’t plan on any child support. There’s always welfare for people like you.’”
Abby lets the last words descend on the silent courtroom as she walks back to the podium.
“What plans had Sergeant Hollis made to leave his wife?”
“Like I said already, he was going to file for divorce.”
“But he didn’t, did he?”
Jackie’s chin comes up again and her tone is truculent. “He never got the chance.”
Abby pretends to look puzzled. “But you said the affair had been going on for nearly a year. Over and over again in these emails, you express impatience at Sergeant Hollis’s failure to take any steps to be with you, isn’t that right?”
“It was just a matter of time.”
“In the meantime, you stalked my client online?”
Shauna is on her feet objecting but Dars waves her down.
“I didn’t stalk her. I just made friends with her on Facebook.”
“Made friends with her.” Abby takes her time with each word as she looks at the jurors. “You pretended to be her friend as a way of keeping tabs on Sergeant Hollis because you didn’t believe he was telling you the truth about the state of his marriage?”
“No. You’re twisting my words around.”
Abby turns to Will, who taps a few keys on the computer. Up comes a color photograph of Luz, eight months pregnant, seated on Travis’s lap. They are outside, at what looks like a backyard party: there are plates on the table in front of them littered with the remnants of chicken wings, spare ribs, and potato salad along with cans of Budweiser and Coors light. Luz is looking directly into the camera, her face lit up with a huge smile. Travis’s hands are placed protectively over her swollen belly and her hands rest lightly on top of his, her diamond ring and wedding band prominently on display. He is looking at Luz with an expression of naked adoration on his face.
“Mrs. Rivera Hollis posted that picture on October 11, 2006, reminiscing on her pregnancy following the birth of their daughter?”
“I don’t know why she posted it.”
Abby leaves the picture up on the screen.
“Seeing that picture must have made you angry?”
“No, that was an old picture, and anyway, I knew Travis had to keep up appearances.”
“But it was the very next day that you messaged Mrs. Rivera Hollis on Facebook. Then, immediately after she sent you her email address, you replied and attached the history of your—” Abby winces slightly “—correspondence. Is that correct?”
“I thought once she knew the truth, she would do the right thing.”
“The truth,” Abby repeats. “The truth was that Sergeant Hollis liked getting your dirty emails and naked pictures, right?”
Jackie is scarlet now, but it isn’t blushing—she’s angry. “That was just one part of our relationship.”
Abby picks up the stack of papers that is her copy of the emails and rifles through the pages. “Of course, the jurors will have a chance to read these and judge for themselves, but it seems to me like that was the entirety of the relationship.”
Shauna stands. “Is there a question pending, Your Honor, because I’m not hearing one, just a lot of speechifying from Ms. Rosenberg.”
“Yes, and the speech is stricken. Move on, counsel.”
“The truth is that Sergeant Hollis did not believe that Chance was his son?”
“Not at first but then I proved it to him.”
“You took a DNA test, then hid the results from your boyfriend, Lance Richards, and told him that the condom broke one night and that it was his baby?”
“It was the story that Travis and me decided on.”
“In fact, it is Lance Richards’s name on Chance’s birth certificate, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you never actually provided proof to Sergeant Hollis of this DNA test, did you?”
“I did the test,” Jackie says fiercely. “Chance is Travis’s son.”
Abby acts as if Jackie hasn’t answered, knowing it will infuriate her even more. “You wrote to my client telling her not to expect any child support from Sergeant Hollis. Did Sergeant Hollis provide child support for you and Chance?”
“Not officially, but he sent me money one time.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-five dollars.”
Abby lets that answer sit for a moment, then asks, “Where in the chain of emails does Sergeant Hollis say, ‘I love you’?”
Jackie’s eyes harden. “He told me,” she says. “I didn’t need it in writing.”
Abby nods. “Where in the chain of emails does Sergeant Hollis say, ‘I do not love my wife’?”
“He told me that.” Jackie’s hands have balled into fists, and when she speaks it is as if she is spitting out the words. “He told me.”
Abby looks at the stone-cold faces of the
