My lawyer, the ones my parents are helping to pay for, can’t do much to help me in here, since this is the criminal trial. But Karla, that’s her name, still took time out of her day to come down and sit in the audience. She wants to see how this hearing will play out, so we can base our civil and divorce case on what she hears today.
That’s right. Over the last week, with all of the talks with Laurel and some serious talks with Dahlia over bottles of wine after the girls fell asleep, I decided it was time. I gradually melted into the idea. It wasn’t an all-at-once, anger-filled decision. It has taken me nearly two months after our domestic violence scandal went public to land on the decision that my marriage, my life before this came to light, isn’t something I want to continue living in.
Secretly, in a confession I’ll admit only to myself, I also can no longer visualize coming home to Shane. Crawling into bed with him. Talking as two people in love, or even in like, do. Not that we’d done that much in the last couple years. I’ve come to that conclusion after spending hours in Walker’s truck, becoming infatuated with the cadence of his voice, and the pattern of our conversation. I imagine a life where I can do that freely. Maybe not with him, but with any man. Down the road, if I chose to take the chance on love, it will be with someone who didn’t deny hurting me. Who never thought about hurting me in the first place. I want to be with someone who cherishes me, who can sit in comfortable silence and just hold me on a cold winter’s night.
Shane will never be that for me, not anymore. When I think of my husband, all I think of is fear and pain. As much as I still love him, against all better judgment, rationally I know I cannot go back. My girls deserve a better role model, a better home to grow into themselves as young women.
“We’re agreed on this? You know if he takes this, there is no going back? He will go to jail. That will be on his record.” Laurel is nodding like she’s talking to a toddler, and I probably look like one.
I imagine my eyes are wide as saucers and I’m quaking in my boots, but I try to remain calm.
Gulping, I nod. “I know the consequences.”
Laurel has proposed a plea deal to Shane’s lawyers, six months in jail, two years’ probation, and a fifty-two week batterer’s program. It’s nothing compared to how he has hurt me and what he’s taken from our life, but Laurel, and I, are skeptical he’ll even get a punishment if we go to trial. Since it’s his first offense—technically the first I’ve reported though he’s been doing this for years—and he is who he is, with all of his public adoration, the district attorney is confident he’ll get off with a slap on the wrist. If his lawyers want to avoid the spectacle of a trial, and their chances at losing, they might be keen to take the deal. If I know Shane, he’ll be cocky enough to take his chances, so I’m not letting an ounce of hope of ending this all right here today into my heart.
I know that if he takes the plea, my husband will be in jail, that someday the girls will learn what that means about their father. I know I will be painted as vindictive, selfish, and a rat by a lot of people, especially those fans who are diehard for Shane.
But if I can end this turmoil now, if it can be settled and I can move on to the next phase, divorce, then I’d like to try.
The doors of the courtroom open, and Shane walks in with his lawyers. I keep my eyes straight on the judge’s stand, just like Laurel has instructed me. It’s bad enough I have to forgo my restraining order today to be in the same room as the man who put me in the hospital, I don’t need to give him the satisfaction of mentally breaking me down.
My skin prickles with awareness, and I can feel Shane’s eyes on me. I know his gaze, how it feels on my body. I even know what he will look like if I turn my head; smug, with a sizzle of heat in his dark brown eyes. He’ll be wearing his most apologetic expression, but underneath, those eyes will be mocking me, challenging me to stop this nonsense.
I wish, for just one moment, that someone familiar could grip my hand and squeeze it.
No one can be here with me today, unfortunately, besides Laurel. If Shane and his lawyers reject the deal, and if they can’t get the case dismissed, then it will go to trial. In which case, witnesses will need to be called, including Walker, Hayes, and Colleen. They were all there that night, had given their statements to the police, and are a solid lineup to back up our case. But how I wish they could be here. Dahlia had to stay home with the girls, I wanted them nowhere near this, and I could use a bit of moral support.
Walker texted me—I gave him my new number after the night in his truck—this morning with a fortifying thought; You’re the strongest woman I know. Just breathe.
Simply thinking of it now keeps my eyes glued front and center, keeps me from breaking and turning to look at my husband.
“All rise for the honorable Judge Benner,” the court officer says, and the dozen or so people in the room stand on their feet.
“We’ve got this.” Laurel nods to me, whispering under her breath.
The judge, a slight woman with graying hair in her mid-fifties, enters and nods at the room. “Please be seated. We’re here today for a pre-trial hearing in the matter of Travitt County vs. Giraldi.”
She goes over the specifics of the case, highlighting the charges and our current marital status. Then Judge Brenner addresses Laurel.
“Ms. Phillipson, I understand you have extended a plea deal?”
Laurel stands. “We have, your honor. Six months incarceration, followed by two years of probation and an extended batterer’s program. Considering the injuries he inflicted on the plaintiff, and that these are gross misdemeanor charges, we think this is more than fair.”
The judge looks over some paperwork in front of her, nods, and then looks at Shane’s table. “Mr. Vivant, does your client accept this plea deal?”
I know his lawyer is rising, but I keep my eyes trained forward. Inside, I’m coming apart at the seams. But I will not give them an inch on the outside.
“He does not, your honor. My client maintains his innocence, and any jail time is not acceptable to him. We will take our chances at trial.”
My heart sinks, and I close my eyes for a brief second too long. I knew this was probably going to happen. But the fact that it won’t be over right here, right now … it’s crushing. It also shows, with Shane maintaining his not guilty stance, that he isn’t remorseful for anything.
“Fair enough.” The judge’s expression is unreadable. “Do you have anything you’d like to bring before the court?”
“Yes, in fact, we do. My client and I have discussed this, and we wish to file a motion to have these charges dismissed,” Shane’s slimy, slick-haired lawyer says to the judge.
Dismissed? He thinks that, not only is he innocent, but now Shane wants to make this go away as if it never happened? The stone walls around my heart, the ones I erected in his name when I decided to file for divorce, strengthen even further.
“On what grounds?” Judge Brenner asks, lowering her glasses down the bridge of her nose.
“On a motion to dismiss for failure of the government to preserve evidence.”
My head whips to Laurel in an accusatory glare. What is his lawyer talking about? Out of the corner of my eye, I finally glimpse Shane, and he’s grinning at me across the courtroom.