I bowed my head ever so slightly and focused my attention back to the prosecutor, who diligently and efficiently went through her list of questions. I provided the appropriate yes or no responses and when we found our rhythm, I started to relax. I worked with her in the past and appreciated her seamless professionalism. No surprises, no trip ups, just the facts stated clearly and concisely with no room for interpretation. The cross examination, on the other hand, I dreaded.
Attorney Reed stood, his chair screeching against the hardwood floor, and abruptly walked toward the stand. He stopped at what felt like inches from my face. My body flinched back slightly, trying to escape his confrontation.
“Ms. Porter, good morning.” His snide expression irritated the hell out of me. He even angled his face enough to be hidden from the judge’s view. The only comparison to the uneasiness festering deep in my gut was to drinking spoiled milk. “Please state your full name and job title when employed by the crisis center.”
“Lili Marie Porter. Associate Director of Social Work at the Wrangel Children’s Crisis Center.”
“Are you still currently employed as a social worker?” Derek paced back and forth in front of the judge’s podium.
Yes or no answers, I silently chanted. “No.”
“Why’s that? No, let me rephrase. What is the title and location of your current employment?”
“I am a case manager at Philadelphia Hospital.”
“Did you end your job at the Crisis Center and immediately begin your job at the hospital?”
“No.”
“Was your leave of absence from the workforce to pursue higher education?”
“Yes ... um, no.” What the hell was he trying to prove? My pulse accelerated as sweat beaded beneath the long hair at the nape of my neck.
“Objection, badgering the witness. What is the relevance of this line of questioning?”
I used the prosecution’s interruption to shift in my seat and re-crossed my legs that were now stuck to the uncomfortable leather.
“Credibility of the witness, Your Honor.”
Shit. Un-fucking-believable. No pun intended.
“Proceed carefully, Attorney Reed.”
I peeked up at the judge who just gave this jackass the right-of-way to travel down this road.
“Care to clarify your last response, Ms. Porter?”
“Can you repeat the question?” My last line of defense was just relinquished, and I was staring at my empty net. This bastard was about to score.
“Again, was your leave of absence from the workforce to pursue higher education?” He stopped directly in front of me.
“No.” But you already know that.
“How long were you unemployed?”
“Four months.”
“Very well. We’ll get back to that. So, Ms. Porter, I would like to clarify a timeline. You filed your official report with Child Services, accusing my client Mr. Wayne on May 8th, three and a half years ago, and human resources at Wrangel Children’s Crisis Center has your last day as May 15th. Is it fair to say the Wayne’s family case was one of the last you worked on before your abrupt leave of absence?”
Gritting my teeth, I responded, “Yes.”
“Ms. Porter, have you ever falsely accused anyone of a crime before?”
No. This was not happening. Acid burned the back of my throat. Not caring if it was the last answered request of my life, I prayed for a fast-forward. A skip. Anything.
The walls started closing in, and the argument bouncing back and forth sounded more like a noisy snow of television static than “Objection” and “Withdrawn.”
I finally snapped out of my haze, unsure how many times Derek Reed had repeated my name in an attempt to regain my attention. The slimy piece of shit snaked his hands into his way too fitted pants pockets and focused at the jury when he asked, “Ms. Porter, who is Dan Reed?”
“Objection? Relevance?” This time, the prosecutor stood, slamming her hands on the top of the desk.
“Requesting some leeway, Your Honor, goes to credibility of the witness.” Derek shrugged and raised his hands to his sides in a what-did-I-do stance. Bastard.
“Overruled. Answer the question, Ms. Porter.”
Every fiber of my being wanted to scream selfish fuck-face, but I needed this to be over. Now. Answering his questions was my only ticket off this stand. “He is my ex-boyfriend.” I refused to utter his name.
“Is it or is it not true that Dan Reed very publicly announced the end of your relationship in a bar in town, approximately one month prior to your aforementioned abrupt leave of absence?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Porter, did you ever accuse ... excuse me, my error. Did you ever file criminal charges against said ex-boyfriend?”