Page 98 of Defend Me

The jurors’ eyes keep flitting to me, to Von, to Wilbur. I wish I could know what they’re thinking.

As Russell takes the stand and swears to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, I try not to shift in my chair. Von looks calm, alert, and poised. She was magnificent. I could tell some of the jurors liked her—she didn’t come across as a billionaire heiress, someone out of touch with their experiences. She sounded like a loving daughter and sister. Like she could be any of them.

Wilbur gets up from the table and starts to question Russell.

“Mr. Everton, can you take us through the events of the morning of June twenty-second?”

Russell smooths back his salt-and-pepper hair and observes Wilbur coolly. “We had hosted an anniversary gala the evening before. It had gone late into the night, but my wife was never a good sleeper after such parties. She woke early in the morning.”

“Around what time?” Wilbur asks.

“Probably five thirty,” Russell responds. “I know the security cameras at the back door caught her heading down the steps of the terrace toward the backyard. I believe the police said it was at five forty or something like that. She said she was going to work in her pottery shed. I went back to sleep for a bit. I woke up again a little after six.”

“Did you hear anything unusual?”

Russell shakes his head. “Our bedroom doesn’t look over the back of the house. And I took a shower. I believe that was when she—” Russell clears his throat, an uncharacteristic flash of pain in his eyes. “That was when she was shot. After I showered, I went downstairs and out to check on her.”

“And what time was that?”

“A little after six thirty.”

“And then?”

Russell takes a moment to compose himself. I wonder if he ever talks about that day.

“I walked outside and across the lawn to her pottery shed.”

“Did you see anyone on the grounds?”

“No.”

“And what happened next?”

“I opened the door and saw Marion. She was on the floor. I didn’t understand at first. I…” He rubs his temples, and I glance at Von. Her face has become a mask, but I sense her pain at hearing her father have to recite all this. To relive the trauma of that day again. My heart squeezes in my chest—in the desperation to prove my innocence, I’d lost all sense of how difficult this must be for Von.

“I thought she had fallen, and possibly hurt herself. I saw blood. But her eyes—” He takes a shuddering breath. “Her eyes were open. It didn’t make sense to me. I tried to…I shook her and called her name, and she didn’t respond. That’s when I called 911.”

“Your honor, I wish to enter into evidence the audio of the 911 call,” Wilbur says.

Judge Warner nods as Wilbur’s assistant hurries to play the tape. Russell’s voice comes crackling through the speakers, panicked, shouting for help as he sobs over his dead wife’s body.

The silence that follows the call is absolute. The jury is looking at Russell with pity in their eyes and I see one or two of them glance at me curiously. I try to look innocent.

“Do you need a minute, sir?” Wilbur asks.

Russell glares at him. “I’m fine,” he says.

“Mr. Everton, can you describe the relationship between Mr. Patterson and your wife?”

Russell raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think he was stalking her, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Just answer the question, please, sir.”

Russell glances at Von. “Noah’s parents died when he was young. Marion became like a mother to him. I know she went to his soccer games when he was a boy, helped him get some musical instrument so he could play in the school band. I forget what. Trumpet maybe.”

I’m shocked Russell remembers that.

He scratches his ear. “And she helped him get onto the police force—wrote him recommendations, paid for summer camps, things like that.”

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