I'll Be Watching You by M. William Phelps Page B

prepared to face Ned in court and testify. She knew the consequences to her already shattered emotional state, understood how tough it would be, but she was resolved to put him in prison, where he belonged. “They told me I had no choice in it—that it wasn’t up to me. But they did talk to me about it before they went ahead.”
    Prior to the plea deal, Fred Schwanwede called Mary Ellen with a request. “Snelgrove’s attorney wants to meet you,” he said.
    It seemed like an odd demand. “It’s very unusual,” Schwanwede said, “but I will allow it. I have to be present, and he won’t be allowed to ask you anything about the case.”
    Ned’s attorney John Bruno’s strategy was to find out what type of witness Mary Ellen would make during trial. He wanted to see how she’d react on the witness stand, even though he had to keep his questions formal: Where’d you grow up? Where’d you go to school?
    Mary Ellen decided to do it. Why not? She could show Bruno—and Ned—that she wasn’t about to back down and curl up like a scared little girl and essentially be victimized all over again. Ned had violated her once. She wanted that control back. As it was, there were times when Mary Ellen would be forced to park her car as close to her building as possible and, after checking left and right, looking for Ned, jump from her car and race into the building as fast as she could. When alone, she was scared he was going to dash out from around a corner and grab her. Facing him, facing off against him, she would be able to take that fear back.
    As they sat in Bruno’s office, Mary Ellen recalled later, Schwanwede and Bruno talked about the town of Newark, where the courthouse was located, and how beautiful the nearby cathedral was, which was when Mary Ellen spoke up, saying, “That’s where my brother was ordained.”
    “Your brother’s a priest?” Bruno asked with shock.
    “Yeah,” she said.
    At another point in the conversation, Schwanwede asked Mary Ellen how her weekend was. “I went to visit my grandchildren,” she said casually.
    “You’re a grandmother?” Bruno interrupted, again quite astonished by the admission.
    At forty-five, Mary Ellen was better-looking than a lot of women half her age. She had an innocent beauty that went far beyond her stunning looks and shapely figure. Bruno couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Even more, he knew Mary Ellen had an ironclad reputation of attending church and living at home, added to a perfect professional work record, a brother who was a priest, and many friends who could vouch for her. Plus, she was strong-willed and spoke with authority.
    The perfect witness.
    Leaving, Fred Schwanwede said, “Everything you talked about in there said you were going to make an excellent witness.”
    The jury would have bonded with Mary Ellen inside five minutes of her direct testimony. Bruno was a smart enough lawyer to know that although he would take a few shots at her while she was on the stand, he could alienate the jury by attacking Mary Ellen and her terrifying ordeal. Branding her in the newspapers as the instigator was one thing, but doing it in court would blow up in his face. They’d hate him—and his client—for it. He couldn’t blame Mary Ellen.
    In the parking lot, showing Mary Ellen to her car, Schwanwede said, “Look, I have a hunch Bruno knows his client is guilty.”
    Weeks later, when Schwanwede met with Mary Ellen again, he felt bad about having to plead the case out, but he explained to her that juries were funny. “You never know what they’re going to do. This way, we get him off the street.”
    Mary Ellen was unhappy, but she understood.
    Although most of the professionals involved knew Ned was a danger to society—and if he had the chance, he would act out on his perverted sexual fantasies again—Mary Ellen had no idea she would, some twenty years after that conversation with Schwanwede, be once again confronted by Ned and his sadistic