Murder in the Courthouse. Nancy Grace

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СКАЧАТЬ in town had known it . . . Julie Love was a “catch” at the time the two had gotten engaged. She was the golden girl who made all As, worked at a food bank, and attended church every Sunday with her parents. Little witch was even a Girl Scout. And she was the homecoming queen, which apparently meant something even though it was at the public school. A drama queen as well, always making a big production over her brother. He was handicapped since birth, confined to a wheelchair. Julie Love insisted on carrying him to nearly every major event she attended.

      Most groom’s mothers did not have a starring role in their son’s weddings, which seemed so unfair to Tish. She took it upon herself to plan the whole thing for poor Julie. The girl was hopeless at event planning. Julie had actually started with what she called an “intimate gathering of family and friends.” Ridiculous. Why even bother to get married? “Intimate gatherings” were not picked up by the Savannah Chronicle. Fat chance. The couple wouldn’t be able to buy their way into the wedding or engagement announcements. Of course, Julie Love insisted that didn’t matter.

      An “intimate gathering” screamed “shabby and cheap” to Tish. Once Julie was confronted with the Adams guest list, things began to look up. Not another single body could’ve fit into the sanctuary of the Savannah First United Methodist Church. By the time all the Adams guests were tallied, Julie tearfully announced, at an Adams family dinner no less, that her family couldn’t afford a big reception. Tish could still remember the moment even now, when Julie conjured fat tears to roll down her cheeks into the linen napkin in her lap. Her voice trembling, she said her mom and dad simply couldn’t swing it financially.

      What a little liar. Tish and her husband ended up footing half the bill for the party. Tish was still stewing over it. The papers—yes, Tish called in a favor and got the wedding details in the Chronicle after all—the papers said Julie Love was a beautiful bride . . . a beautiful fake as far as Tish was concerned.

      In fact, if only the world could see through Julie Love’s façade, they’d realize this whole mess was actually Julie’s fault. She was so simpering, so mealymouthed, so saccharine sweet. Tish had watched it for years. In her own mind, she often called it “The Julie Love Show.” Everything about the girl was a put-on. Even using her handicapped brother as a prop. Pushing him around at public events, fussing over him as if she really cared. It was a ploy. A ploy to get people to notice her, to love her, to get on all their good sides.

      Julie never, not for one second, fooled Tish. She could see through that the first time Todd had brought her over to the house to meet his mother. She had taken Todd away, put on that spectacle of a wedding where Tish was a nothing. Julie never let Todd spend time with his family anymore. Then she tried to lock him into a loveless marriage with a baby of all things . . . and now, this!

      Anybody in their right mind could see what kind of boy Todd really was. Why, he had it all . . . good looks, charm, education, manners, a good job . . . everything!

      The truth was, Todd had always been too good for Julie Love. Tish knew it and so did the whole neighborhood. And here they were, all lined up in court and siding against Todd! With friends like these . . .

      “But Mom . . .”

      “No ‘buts.’ Everything will work out, you’ll see, my precious boy. Now . . . let’s talk about what you should wear tomorrow for court. That’s all you have to worry about. Do you understand?”

      He nodded, shutting up so his mom could talk, like always. It was easier that way.

      “It’s all going to be OK. You just wait and see. You’ve got the best lawyer money can buy. Listen to me . . . listen to your mother. Now I’m going to get those photos for you to put up in your room.”

      “It’s not a room, Mother, it’s a cell. A jail cell.”

      “I know that, dear, but I prefer to refer to it as your room. And that’s how you should think of it too, like a dorm room.”

      “A dorm room? Are you crazy?”

      “Calm down, son. No need for the sheriffs to hear you agitated, is there? Remember, I went to nursing school before I married your father and had you. Want me to get a doctor’s order for a sedative?”

      “You never finished.”

      Tish gave her son a look that would’ve scared anyone else into cold silence before she spoke. “Thank you for reminding me that I gave up a career for you and your father. And no, dear . . . I’m not crazy. I’m just trying to make the best of a bad situation and that’s what you need to do, too. Now let’s get those pictures of Julie Love up in your room.”

      “My cell.”

      “The power of positive thinking, Todd, positive thinking.”

      “Mother. I’m behind bars on two murder one counts. My trial starts in the morning. They had to bus jurors in from another county. What’s positive about that?”

      Todd Adams’s voice took on a whining quality. His mother didn’t notice.

      “What’s positive? The fact that the world will hear what a wonderful son and husband you are. They’ll hear about your golf scholarship, your job, your degree, your beautiful home and family . . . that’s what’s positive.”

      “And I don’t want those pictures up in my cell.”

       “Room.”

      “OK . . . room . . . whatever! I don’t want those pictures up in my room!”

      “But why? That doesn’t make any sense.”

      “Because . . .” He paused. “They make me depressed. I’m already miserable in this place. Crappy food, hardly any TV, and it’s not even cable . . .”

      “But photos of you and Julie Love will remind you of all the happy times—”

      “No they won’t. They’ll remind me that I’m here in jail because she’s dead. They’ll remind me of home . . . of what I’m missing.”

      “Shut up!” It came out like a hiss. Tish turned in her seat to look back at the guard at the door. He was pale and wimpy. The way he’d kept peering in through the glass door, glaring through a hideous set of thick glasses . . . she was positive he’d eavesdropped on every single word she and her son had so stupidly uttered.

      His mother’s tone made him sit up straight in his chair and stop the whining.

      “How will it look in front of a jury when they find out you don’t have a single photo of Julie Love up in your room?”

      “Cell. My cell, Mother.”

      The two sat in sulky silence, each staring the other down. Finally, Tish Adams broke the silence.

      “Your father and I didn’t work our fingers to the bone to have our son arrested, much less convicted for first-degree murder. This absolutely will not happen to our family. Now you listen to me and you listen good. You will put up these photos and you’ll keep them up. And remember, no friends. Nobody in this facility is your friend, not the guards, not the inmates, not even the chaplain. You have one friend, Todd, and that’s me. Your mother.”

      He wouldn’t look up, instead gazing down at his knees like a corrected schoolboy.

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