The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell(96)

“There’s a report,” LeBaron said. “I saw it in the file.”

“Where’s this calendar?” Montoya asked.

Trina pulled two black day planners from a bag at the side of her chair. The pages appeared to be well worn.

“How far do these date back?” Montoya asked, flipping through the pages.

“Fourteen months,” Trina said, crying again. “Since I divorced him. He started becoming more unstable. He’d always been volatile, but he got worse. He started drinking, and things deteriorated from there.”

Montoya lifted her head from reading one of the entries. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Trina dabbed at her eyes with Kleenex. “It’s like Dr. Kennedy said. Who was I going to tell? David constantly threatened us, and Daniela wouldn’t talk about what happened when she stayed with him. I don’t know what he said to her, but whatever he’d said frightened her. I brought it up with him once when Daniela came home with a bruise on her arm. David said he’d already filed a report that Daniela came to his house with the injury, and that if I opened my mouth he’d take her from me. He said who did I think the police would believe? I was afraid for my daughter, afraid to make him angry.”

“Can we go through some of these?” Montoya said, indicating the calendar entries. “I’d like to hear what the doctors have to say.”

Trina went through her calendar. Dr. LeBaron did most of the commenting on the nature of the injuries and whether they were consistent with the reported manner in which they had occurred. As Trina revealed months of abuse at the hands of her husband, Mickie and I sat silent.

“He’s been stalking you,” Montoya said at one point.

“No doubt,” I said and told of my nighttime confrontation with Bateman in the parking lot of the Presbyterian church.

“What’s his attitude now? Is he asking to see Daniela?” Montoya asked.

“No,” Trina said.

“I told Trina to tell David that I recommended Daniela remain in a familiar environment, that any fall of any kind could cause the retina to detach,” I said.

“And he hasn’t fought you on it?” Montoya asked.

Trina shook her head. “Not yet. But it’s a matter of time. He uses Daniela to try to hurt me.”

“I called him on the abuse at my meeting with him,” I said. “It might have scared him enough to back off, but it won’t keep him at bay forever. Trina says he has a real bulldog for an attorney.”

“Alexander Cherkov,” Montoya said. I knew the name from billboards and radio commercials. She addressed Trina. “Your husband has a court order giving him visiting rights. He’ll move to enforce it. We’ll need to file a temporary restraining order and seek a permanent injunction to keep him away from you and your daughter until we can get you full custody.” Montoya looked to me and LeBaron. “I’ll need declarations.”

The conversation turned to how to best keep Trina and Daniela safe while the court process played out. “Is there someplace you can go?” Montoya asked.

“I have a sister who lives in Tucson.”

“How much time do you need?” I asked Montoya.

“No way to know for certain.”

“What if I write up a report recommending that Daniela go someplace warm to facilitate her recovery? I can say that the dry weather would be better for her recuperation. Trina’s attorney could give it to David’s attorney, if he makes a stink.”

“It would buy us some time,” Montoya agreed. “Give you a chance to get out of town before we serve him with the papers.”

Trina nodded.

“What about you?” Montoya asked, looking at me.

“What about me?”

“He’s come after you once. He could come again.”

“If he does, he does,” I said. I was done being afraid of David Bateman.

As the meeting concluded, I felt better with a plan in place, but I also couldn’t help but think of something I’d heard a young heavyweight boxer named Mike Tyson once say. Tyson had risen to sudden stardom with his ferocious boxing style. When asked why he never deviated from his attack, no matter the opponent, Tyson replied, “Everyone has a plan, until they get punched in the mouth.”





10

Two weeks passed without incident, though I felt as though I was walking barefoot over broken glass. Trina Crouch brought Daniela in for visits, and Montoya used those opportunities to come in to the office and get the legal papers prepared to secure a TRO, which would accuse David Bateman of child abuse. We were waiting until Daniela was capable of travel. When I deemed her fit, Trina loaded up the car in the middle of the night and drove to Tucson. She did not want a paper trail with an airline ticket. During that time David’s attorney had never called, nor did David.

Montoya called me at the office late on a Wednesday afternoon a few days after Trina left town. “Okay,” she said. “The papers are filed, and he’s been served. Keep alert.”

“When’s the hearing?”

“Six days, though I expect his attorney will ask for a continuance to get competing declarations.”

“Will it work?”

“Not unless he can find a doctor to counter your declaration and Dr. LeBaron’s. The evidence is strong.”