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The judge turned to nod at the bailiff standing by the teleprompter I noticed but wondered what it was for. Up on the screen in front of everyone, my and my husband’s face were projected, playing the exact words written on the paper. I knew they were exact because I followed along, reading with my pen.
The teleprompter paused, and there was silence as Jared Crawford turned to look at me with a stupid, idiotic smirk. “Does this tape refresh your memory, Mrs. Levine?” he asked, all smug.
I exhaled an impatient breath and twisted my lips in annoyance. “Yes, it did, Mr. Crawford.”
“Great. I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Levine. What do you suppose your husband was implying about myself, Mr. Whitlocke, and Mr. Sharpe in his statement? Would it be safe to say that it was a clear and straightforward accusation, Mrs. Levine?” he asked.
“Objection, speculation,” my husband said, finally speaking up for heaven’s sake.
“Overruled,” the judge responded.
What? What kind of hole did this judge climb out of? He clearly expected me to speculate over whatever my husband was implying.
Swallowing and breathing heat, I responded, “Implying something is hardly a basis for defamation, Mr. Crawford. He could beimplyinganything.” I leaned back in my chair.
“Right. But he wasn’t implying just anything, was he? He said, in his own words, that he would, quote ‘rescue my daughter from your hands.’ Whose hands were he referring to?” he asked, standing with his hands hugging the podium, without nerves. Where were his nerves? Damn it.
You, you stupid baboon.That’s what I wanted to say. “Give me one moment, let me check. Memory problems.” I smiled at the judge who gave me a sliver of a smile back.
“Oh, that’s right. It says it right here, ‘Mario Sharpe, Anthony Whitlocke, and Jared Crawford.’ I suppose he was referring to you,” I said.
He shook his head and laughed. His laugh irritated me. Immediately, I was met with a flashback of middle school, and I wanted to wipe his stupid smile off his face.
“Thank you, Mrs. Levine,” he said, and the front, left side of my head twitched and ached. “So, to clarify, he wanted to rescue his daughter from our hands? Why is that? Was she in danger?” he asked.
“He thought so, and I support him,” I responded.
“Oh, we’ll get to that soon enough, Mrs. Levine, but let’s stay on this for a while. What did he believe she was in danger from?” he asked.
“Objection, speculation,” my husband said. He was stingy with his objections, and it was driving me nuts.
“Sustained,” the judge said.
Finally, I was losing hope in the judge’s intelligence for a moment there.
“Right. I’ll rephrase the question, Your Honor. Is it safe to say that your husband was doing a lot more than just implying or suggesting, and he was in fact making a statement that his daughter was in danger around us?” he asked.
“It’s possible.” I shrugged.
“And based on the statements made here in court and the cross examinations your team partook in, is it safe to say that your husband made those statements with the intention of painting Mr. Sharpe, Mr. Whitlocke, and I as predators?” he asked.
If it wasn’t for the age-related questions my husband asked, I could’ve shaped his intentions in a way that allowed me to dodge this question. However, it would give Mr. Crawford and the others more reason to laugh at me if I did, given the obvious. So, I stared Jared in the eyes. “Yes, Mr. Crawford.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Levine. And earlier you said that you support your husband’s statements. Is that right?” he asked.
“Yes,” I bit out.
“If you support your husband’s statements, Mrs. Levine, why would you publicly disown your daughter if you believed she was in danger?” he asked, tilting his head at me mockingly.
My nostrils flared, and I felt it. “I disowned her before my husband made those statements and when he did, I realized he had a point,” I said, sticking my neck out at him.
“Oh, you did, did you? So, why didn’t you take it back? Why did you continue to disown her? Please remember, Mrs. Levine, that you’re under oath,” he said, squinting his eyes at me with a smirk. “Is that because you don’t believe that your daughter was in fact in danger around us, Mrs. Levine?”
“Well, I don’t know what to believe, do I?” I responded, clasping my hands before me and fiddling with my wedding ring.
“Even so, if there was a single part of you that believed she was in danger, wouldn’t you come out in support of your daughter? In fact, isn’t the reason you’re even here in court today is because you’re ashamed of your daughter’s sexual habits, and you want to punish her?” he asked.
“Objection, speculation and argumentative. Your Honor, my wife had no way of knowing at the time and now, she just wants to get to the truth,” my husband responded.
