Have You Seen Luis Velez?(64)

“Okay, fine. Whatever. But back to my original question. Did you not even consider the idea that Ms. Hatfield thought what she was saying was true?”

“No, sir.”

“You didn’t even consider it.”

“No, sir.”

“Will you please tell the court what made you so sure?”

“Because there was no time. He was just reaching out for her shoulder when she spun on him. And she had her darn purse clenched under her arm. She stuck it under there real tight after she got the gun out of it. Or anyway, what I found out later was a gun. There was no way he could have gotten into that purse before she shot him dead.”

This is going badly for the defense, Raymond thought, typing wildly. Making dozens of typographical mistakes he had no time to correct. Good.

“With all due respect, Mr. Adler, the question was not whether Mr. Velez had time to take the wallet out of Ms. Hatfield’s purse. My question was why you’re so sure she was telling a premeditated lie. That’s quite an accusation to level against my client, to suggest she knowingly lied. You said yourself that you were in shock. Shock creates confusion. It warps a person’s sense of time. It all happened very fast. Ms. Hatfield looked down, and there was her wallet in the hands of a man she thought was trying to steal it. Doesn’t it make sense that she thought he had?”

“Maybe if she hadn’t been so damn sure he was about to steal from her, we wouldn’t all of us be in this mess!”

Raymond heard an audible pull of breath. A hushed gasp. Both from Mrs. G and one woman juror.

“Your Honor,” the defense attorney said.

“I’m warning you again, Mr. Adler,” the judge said. “Tread lightly.”

Mr. Adler did not apologize. He only sat in silence.

“So I’ll ask you again, Mr. Adler,” the attorney said. “How can you look me in the eye and claim to know for a fact that the defendant didn’t think, in the heat of the moment, that her version of events was the truth?”

The witness continued to sit in silence. Long enough that a couple members of the jury began to shift uneasily in their seats.

“Well . . . ,” Adler said at last, “. . . I guess I can’t know what was going on inside her head.”

“My point exactly. No further questions, Your Honor.”



They sat on the subway car together, Raymond feeling the familiar rocking of the car’s movement along the tracks.

When he glanced over at Mrs. G, she seemed to be slumping over on her seat, as if passing out and falling. He reached over and grabbed her around her shoulders and brought her upright again, and she roused herself suddenly.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“I guess I dozed off for a minute there. I’m just very tired, Raymond. It’s just been a very long day. It’s been years since I’ve tried to do this much in one day.”

“Yeah. That’s true, all right. But other than being tired, are you okay?”

“No.”

They rode in silence for a few seconds.

“We could just go home if you need to,” he said.

“Oh no. We can’t abandon Isabel. She’s having her baby. We said we would be there after court. And we’re going to be there, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s just an expression.”

Silence. He did not attempt to reply. Raymond was tired and upset, too. Maybe not as much as Mrs. G. But enough.

“I’m sorry, though,” she said. “It’s a hard time for both of us. I will try to speak in lighter terms. Besides . . . maybe I will get a second wind when I experience this beautiful little new life. What could be better for the spirit than a new life in the world?”



Halfway up the stairs from the subway to the street, Raymond knew they had a problem on their hands.

He stopped and waited with her. Let her catch her breath. He knew she would make it up the stairs if he gave her enough time. But she was clearly digging down into her last energy reserves.

It was a seven-block walk from the subway station to the hospital, as best Raymond could figure.

And then they had to get home.

He placed a hand behind her back and tried to give her something of a push. A lift. It seemed to work fairly well.

In time they stood on the street together, Mrs. G panting for breath, her head down. Raymond looked around and thought about hailing a cab. But he didn’t have much money on him, and he wasn’t sure if she did, either. It didn’t seem right to ask her for money, even at a time like this.

“It’s seven blocks to the hospital,” he said, finally gearing himself up to break the bad news.

“Oh, I don’t know, Raymond. That might be too much. I will try, but I don’t know if I can.”

“I don’t think I have enough money on me for a cab. Do you?”

“I might. I would have to look in my purse. But I really don’t know what cabs charge anymore. Do you?”

“Not exactly. My dad always pays.”

Raymond allowed himself to realize, for the first time, that he had led them into trouble. That this was a serious situation. They were far from home, and he had asked her to do more than she could do. It rose up over his head like a tsunami and swept him away. He had no idea how to fix what he had broken.