Redemption(48)

Couple that with every faculty member knowing I was the go-to girl if anyone needed help, and the school sucked up every waking moment. With Matt being on active duty, a house that needed taking care of, and Joshua—I was spread too thin. I was feeling every minute of missed sleep, and this weekend was exactly what I needed to catch up and relax.

“The car’s packed. You just need to get in it.” Matt kissed my forehead while I threw some snacks and drinks into a cooler for the almost four-hundred-mile trip. If we only stopped once for gas, we’d get there just in time for dinner. He said goodbye to us both and ushered us out the door.

Once we were on the interstate, the traffic moved quickly and miles ticked away. I talked to Joshua to stay alert, but he wasn’t interested in hearing me drone on about the University’s orchestra or the plans for the end-of-the-year recital. He effectively ignored me and dozed in and out with the thud of the cement sections on the highway, and I struggled to keep my eyes from drifting closed. I turned the air conditioning on full blast and sang along with the radio, but when I drifted off to sleep, and the grooves on the side of the road jolted me awake, I had to pull over.

I searched for a rest area thinking it would be the best place to reset, it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon, and travelers would be crawling the parking lots to stretch their legs and grab snacks or use the restroom. It was far safer than a gas station in my opinion, and I could fill up down the road after I rested my eyes for a bit. With a quarter of a tank of gas, I could easily make it to the next service station after the rest stop. I glanced at Joshua who was fast asleep and knew now was as good a time as any. I’d be late getting to my parents’, but I could call them after a power nap to update them on our arrival time.

I pulled into a spot in front of the building, turned down the AC, and locked the doors. I watched for a few minutes to see how people reacted to someone sitting in their car, but no one even gave us a second glance. I closed my eyes knowing either Joshua would wake me or the alarm I set giving myself an hour would. Sleep took over almost faster than my lids met.

“What happened after that?” Thus far, I’d been allowed to speak freely. Neither attorney had interrupted me with questions or objections.

Jethro had spent hours preparing me to tell my story and even more preparing me to answer the prosecutor’s questions. His attempt to ready me for this had all been in vain. The moment I stepped up to the witness stand, everything he’d told me, all that we had rehearsed—flew out the window in the face of fear. The only thing that remained was allowing the jury to see my emotion. I didn’t think that part would be hard as I was already about to crack under the weight of stress. Within minutes, my attorney had me neck deep in my past.

“The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. It was dark, and I was alone.”

“Was that when you learned Joshua had passed away?”

“Yes.” It was one syllable, but probably the hardest I’d ever uttered.

“You have no memory whatsoever of anything else that took place at the rest area?”

“No.” I’d been instructed to answer yes or no questions with one word, nothing more, nothing less. I was doing my best to adhere to that, but the desire to further explain myself was tough to fight against.

“You don’t remember anyone yelling, sirens, glass breaking?” The District Attorney was doing his job, but it didn’t change my answer. Regardless of how he asked the questions, or how many times he asked them, my answer wouldn’t change.

“Your Honor, he’s badgering the witness. She’s said countless times in sworn testimony she recalls nothing beyond going to sleep in the parking lot.”

With nothing further to add, the prosecutor dismissed me in favor of his next witness. Jethro had informed me I wouldn’t get the chance to express my remorse during questioning. The judge might grant me a period at the end of the trial to address the courtroom and the jury, but it wasn’t promised nor guaranteed.

Each day, Jethro ushered me into the courthouse with his arm around my waist in an attempt to shield me from the reporters and camera crews. Someone in front of us kept a path cleared for us to proceed, but I didn’t know who it was. It hadn’t taken long for the events to swirl in front of me like a tornado. When the storm finally settled, we were back in the courtroom, and the District Attorney was calling the woman to the stand who’d called 9-1-1.

“Can you state your name for the court?” Each witness underwent the same formal introduction.

“Clara Bartell.”

I’d only half listened to the standard questions the opposing attorney asked. But when she began to recount the events, she had my full attention.

“My husband and I stopped a few minutes before four o’clock that afternoon at the rest stop to use the bathroom and walk our dog. He took the dog, and I went to use the facilities. When I came back out, there was a car parked directly in front of me. I had to walk by it to get to Max, my husband. I was going to take our dog to let her get a little more exercise before we got back in the car while he went in. But when I passed the car window, the woman inside was bright red. Her cheeks were angry looking, and the car was stopped.”

“The engine wasn’t running when you stepped up to the vehicle?” The attorney asked questions to keep the story relevant and the facts in front of the jury.