“And Then She Cried” Redux
A Mort Laitner Essay
She bounded toward the federal courthouse with the energy of a teenager.
Her pace evinced confidence.
They were going to win.
He would not be convicted.
But who was she?—his lawyer.
She wore the scarf, the sunglasses, the makeup and the smile.
Since he walked behind her—not holding her hand or being by her side— the cameras
focused in on her bounce.
Not bad for a women in her early sixties.
This well-taken care of package—once eye candy—
caught on video.
Her digital image flashed on millions of TV screens for weeks.
A silent star born on CNN and MSNBC.
But those were the pretrial motion days.
The days before the network started posting his mug shot and artist’s renderings of the
trial.
She continued the act until the accountant testified.
Then she ran out of the courtroom crying.
Her mask of false bravado removed by reality.
Screw turns—he’s going down.
Screw turns–he’s been caught.
Screw turns—we are going to be poor and apart.
Screw turns—will he get out alive?
Screw turns—is the price we pay the fiddler?
Forty years of marriage, kids, a lifestyle of the rich and famous collapsed before those
once radiant eyes—
Now reddened by fear of the future.
On the day the jury returned its verdict, she used eye drops in an attempt to take the red
out.
On the day the jury returned its verdict she sat transfixed focusing on the mouth of the
foreman .
Each word he said burned holes in her stomach.
“Guilty on eight counts.”
As the foreman read each of the guilty counts, an invisible balled-up fist slammed
into her stomach making it almost impossible to keep her composure.
That punch knocked the air out of her body causing the courtroom to spin.
She hid her tears behind dark sun glasses.
As she walked out of the building, clutching her umbrella as if it was going to
protect her from the ongoing storm.
