Page 103 of Defend Me

“Was Noah Patterson with her at the time?”

“No.”

“Did my mother ever tell you Noah Patterson was stalking her?”

Mike shifts again. “Well…no.”

“Funny you should say that, since you have been speaking as if you were an expert on the subject of their relationship. Have you ever been invited to Everton Estate?”

“Well, I mean, I went to the party?—”

“The Everton Anniversary Gala?”

“Yeah.”

“The party the entire town was invited to?”

“Um, yeah.”

“And did you see her and Noah interact at this party?”

Mike shifts in his chair. “Not that I remember.”

“I see. So your evidence is that my mother, known for being a charitable person, helped Noah pay for some things in high school, and because Noah once had a “thing” as you say for some unnamed older female actress, then it thereby follows that he is a stalker and a murderer?”

Mike blinks at me, bemused. “I think he did it,” he says bullishly. I feel like this is much more about sticking it to Noah, rather than Mike actually believing Noah killed Mom.

“We are very fortunate then, that the United States legal system is not centered around your opinions,” I say tartly. I glance over at Noah. “One moment, please, your honor,” I say. I bend down over the defense table.

“What is this guy’s problem with you?” I whisper.

“I put him in the drunk tank a bunch of times,” Noah whispers back. “The last one was two weeks before I got arrested.”

Aha. “Do you remember the date?”

Noah pauses. “August fifteenth. I remember because there was a deputy softball game that day and he made me late for it.”

I grin and turn back to the witness.

“Mr. Cochran, when was the last time you interacted my client?”

Mike’s eyes fly up his forehead. “Um…” Mike hems.

“Might I remind you, that you are under oath,” I say.

“Sometime back in August,” he admits.

“And what was the nature of this interaction?”

I glance at Wilbur who looks taken off guard. I guess he didn’t do his homework.

Mike swallows and mutters something.

“I’m sorry?” I say. “I didn’t catch that.”

“He arrested me,” Mike says grudgingly.

“He arrested you,” I repeat, looking at each juror to let the words sink in. “On what charge?”

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