The Jodi Picoult Collection Read online

  The attorney steered Katie to a small room filled with office supplies. She closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and folded her arms. “Sorry for the impromptu introduction, but I’m Ellie Hathaway, and I sure as hell hope that you’re Katie. We’re going to have a lot of time to talk later, but right now I need to know why you turned down an attorney.”

  Katie’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she could summon her voice. “My Dat wouldn’t want me to have one.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’ll plead not guilty today, and then we’ll chat. Now, looking at these charges, you’re not getting bail unless we can get around the ‘proof and presumption’ clause in the statute.”

  “I . . . I don’t understand.”

  Without glancing up from the sheaf of papers she was skimming, Ellie answered, “It means that if you’re charged with murder, and the proof is evident or the presumption great, you don’t get bail. You sit in jail for a year until your trial comes up. Get it?” Katie swallowed, nodded. “So we have to find a loophole here.”

  Katie stared at this woman, who had come with her words sharpened like the point of a sword, planning to save her. “I didn’t have a baby.”

  “I see. Even though two doctors and a whole hospital, not to mention the local cops, all say otherwise?”

  “I didn’t have a baby.”

  Ellie slowly looked up. “Well,” she said. “I see I’m going to be finding that loophole myself.”

  * * *

  Judge Gorman was clipping his fingernails when Ellie and Katie reentered the courtroom. He swept the shavings onto the floor. “I believe we were just getting to ‘How do you plead?’”

  Ellie stood. “My client pleads not guilty, Your Honor.”

  The judge turned. “Mr. Callahan, is there a bail recommendation from the state?”

  George rose smoothly. “I believe, Your Honor, that the statute in Pennsylvania requires that bail be denied to defendants charged with first degree murder. In this case, the state would recommend this as well.”

  “Your Honor,” Ellie argued, “with all due respect, if you read the wording of the statute it requires bail to be withheld only in the cases where ‘the proof is evident, or the presumption great.’ That isn’t a blanket statement. Particularly, in this case, the proof is not evident, and the presumption is not great, that this was an act of murder in the first degree. There’s some circumstantial evidence that the county attorney has gathered—specifically, medical testimony that Ms. Fisher’s given birth, and the fact of a dead infant found on the premises of her farm—but there are no eyewitnesses to what happened between the birth and the death of the infant. Until my client gets her fair trial, we aren’t going to know how or why this death occurred.”

  She smiled tightly at the judge. “In fact, Your Honor, there are four main reasons bail should be allowed in this case. First, the girl is Amish and being charged with a violent crime, although violence in the Amish community historically does not exist. Second, because she’s Amish, she has a much stronger tie to this community than most other defendants. Her religion and her upbringing rule out any risk of flight. Third, she’s barely eighteen, and has no financial resources of her own to attempt an escape. And finally, she has no record—this is not only her first arraignment but the first time she’s encountered the legal system in any way, shape, or form. I’m proposing, Your Honor, that she be released on stringent bail conditions.”

  Judge Gorman nodded thoughtfully. “Would you like to share those conditions with us?”

  Ellie took a deep breath. She’d love to; she just hadn’t thought of them yet. She looked swiftly toward Leda and Frank and the Amish woman sitting between them, and suddenly it all came clear. “We respectfully request bail, Judge, with the following stipulations: that Katie Fisher not be allowed to leave East Paradise Township, but that she be allowed to live at home on her parents’ farm. In return, she must be under the supervision of a family member at all times. As for bail—I would think that twenty thousand dollars is a fair amount to ask.”

  The prosecutor laughed. “Your Honor, that’s ludicrous. A bail statute is a bail statute; and Murder One is Murder One. It’s like that in fancy felony cases in Philadelphia, too, so Ms. Hathaway can’t plead ignorance. If the proof wasn’t evident we wouldn’t be charging it this way. Clearly Katie Fisher should not be released on any bail.”

  The judge let his gaze touch upon the prosecutor, the defense attorney, and then Katie. “You know, coming in here this morning, I had no intention of doing what I’m about to do. But if I’m even going to consider your conditions, Ms. Hathaway, I need to know that someone agrees to be responsible for Katie Fisher. I want her father’s word that she’ll be supervised twenty-four/seven.” He turned to the gallery. “Mr. Fisher, would you make yourself known?”

  Leda stood up and cleared her throat. “He’s not here, Your Honor.” She pulled hard at her sister’s arm, dragging her to a standing position as well. “This is Katie’s mother.”

  “All right, Mrs. Fisher. Are you willing to accept total legal responsibility for your daughter?”

  Sarah looked down at her feet, her words so soft the judge had to strain to hear them. “No,” she admitted.

  Judge Gorman blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  Sarah raised her face, tears in her eyes. “I cannot.”

  “I can, Your Honor,” Leda said.

  “You live with the family?”

  She hesitated. “I could move in.”

  Sarah shook her head again, whispering furiously. “Aaron won’t let you!”

  The judge impatiently rapped his fingers on the desk. “Is there any relative of Ms. Fisher’s here today willing to take responsibility for her round the clock, who doesn’t have a problem with the church or her father?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Judge Gorman turned to Ellie, who seemed just as surprised to have uttered the words as he had been to hear them. “That’s certainly devoted of you, Counsel, but we’re looking for a family member.”

  “I know,” Ellie said, swallowing hard. “I’m her cousin.”

  FOUR

  Ellie

  When George Callahan stood up and roared his objection, I had to stop myself from seconding his motion. God, what on earth was I thinking? I came to East Paradise burned out; taking on this girl’s case was the last thing I wanted to do—and now I had volunteered myself to be Katie Fisher’s warden. Through a haze of disbelief I heard the judge rule against the prosecutor; set bail at $20,000 with provisions, and put me into a prison I’d created for myself.

  Suddenly Frank and Leda were standing in front of me, Leda smiling through her tears and Frank staring at me with his solemn dark eyes. “You sure you’re all right with this, Ellie?” he asked.

  Leda answered for me. “Of course she is. Why, she’s saving Katie for us.”

  I glanced down at the girl beside me, still huddled in her chair. Since our brief interlude in the supply room, she hadn’t said a word. She flicked her gaze at me—I saw the bright blaze of resentment. Immediately, my hackles rose. Did she think I was doing this for my own health?

  I narrowed my eyes, prepared to give a piece of my mind, but was stopped by a soft touch on my arm. An older, worn version of Katie decked out in full Amish costume waited for my attention. “My daughter thanks you,” she said haltingly. “I thank you. But my husband will not want an Englischer staying with us.”

  Leda turned on her. “If Bishop Ephram said it’s all right to talk to an English lawyer, he’s going to say it’s all right for that same lawyer to meet the bail conditions. And if the whole community is willing to bend the rules for Katie’s welfare, Sarah, couldn’t you just once stand with them instead of by your stubborn husband’s side?”

  In my whole life, I’d never heard Leda raise her voice. Yet here she was, practically yelling at her sister, until the other woman was cowering beneath the words. Leda slipped her arm through mine.