something…” Crow couldn’t finish.
“She told you to stop. You and your friends.”
“Yes,” said Crow. “No, wait. What friends? It was just me and Sophie.”
“So you got mad, frustrated, and you—”
“No. I stopped. I left to go to the car, and when I came back, that’s when I found her.”
“You found her beat up, and you ran away,” said Wall. “But you didn’t go to your car then, did you? You had just been to your car, and you didn’t go back there?”
“I ran. I wasn’t thinking. I just ran. I couldn’t believe what’d happened. I ran into the river.”
“But you picked up your clothes, didn’t you? Before you ran, you gathered your clothes?”
“I guess.” His voice came out muffled.
“You
guess
you gathered your clothes?”
“I did!” yelled Crow. “I picked up my shirt and pants and ran. I didn’t even know what I was doing.” He was sweating. A terrible shame split his head and stung the tips of his fingers. He looked dumbfounded. Sweat formed at his temples.
“Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing when you beat her up. When you raped her.” Jeb Wall let these words sink in. “Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing then either.”
“Objection.”
“No.” Crow’s voice cracked. “I cared about her, and she cared about me. I didn’t hurt her.” Crow was crying, his face in his hands.
“Though you
did
leave her there.”
“Yes,” said Crow, though he was shaking his head no. “I’m sorry. I told you. The police were going to take care of her.”
“What time did you get home?”
Crow didn’t answer.
“Would the judge instruct the witness to answer?” Wall said.
The judge leaned toward the witness chair, and Crow, working through a band of intricate thought, said, “About three o’clock, I think. My dad was at the door. He told me the sheriff had called and that Sophie was in the hospital.”
Wall straightened his shoulders. “We already know there was underage drinking at this party. How about drugs? Were there drugs too?”
Crow wasn’t ready for this question. He had thought about his answer, but when the D.A. asked him he wasn’t ready. He hesitated. “No.”
“At this party, there weren’t any drugs?” The D.A. kept restraint in his voice.
“Some, I guess.”
“Some, you guess.” The district attorney faced the judge.
“Did you take any drugs yourself?”
“No.”
“Did Sophie have anything to drink? How old is Sophie Chabot?”
“Fourteen.”
“Did you get her drunk before taking her to the woods?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Crow objected.
Raymond Butler stood. “He’s badgering the witness, Your Honor.”
“Cool down your tone, Mr. Wall,” the judge said.
“But she had been drinking that night, is that right?”
“I guess she’d had a little.” Crow could not look up, could not lift his head.
“How much?”
“I don’t know, but she wasn’t drunk. I’ll swear she wasn’t drunk.”
“If you’ll remember, you’re swearing to everything here.” Wall ambled back to the table as though he might be through, then quickly turned. “If there was so much affection between you and Miss Chabot, then explain why there was evidence of force found. How did Sophie get those bruises?”
“He’s badgering the witness again, Your Honor.”
“I’ll rephrase.” Wall turned again to face Crow. “Sophie’s body had bruises and evidence of rape. We have pictures showing the state of her body. Are you saying that you did not penetrate her?”
Crow put his face in his hands again. “I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t do anything to hurt her.”
“But you did have intercourse with her.”
Crow really wasn’t sure if he had.
“You’ve already testified to that.”
“We went too far,” said Crow, “and I had forgotten the condom, so I went to get it.”
“But you had already had intercourse by that time.”
“Just barely. I mean hardly at all.”
“One more thing, Mr.
“She told you to stop. You and your friends.”
“Yes,” said Crow. “No, wait. What friends? It was just me and Sophie.”
“So you got mad, frustrated, and you—”
“No. I stopped. I left to go to the car, and when I came back, that’s when I found her.”
“You found her beat up, and you ran away,” said Wall. “But you didn’t go to your car then, did you? You had just been to your car, and you didn’t go back there?”
“I ran. I wasn’t thinking. I just ran. I couldn’t believe what’d happened. I ran into the river.”
“But you picked up your clothes, didn’t you? Before you ran, you gathered your clothes?”
“I guess.” His voice came out muffled.
“You
guess
you gathered your clothes?”
“I did!” yelled Crow. “I picked up my shirt and pants and ran. I didn’t even know what I was doing.” He was sweating. A terrible shame split his head and stung the tips of his fingers. He looked dumbfounded. Sweat formed at his temples.
“Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing when you beat her up. When you raped her.” Jeb Wall let these words sink in. “Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing then either.”
“Objection.”
“No.” Crow’s voice cracked. “I cared about her, and she cared about me. I didn’t hurt her.” Crow was crying, his face in his hands.
“Though you
did
leave her there.”
“Yes,” said Crow, though he was shaking his head no. “I’m sorry. I told you. The police were going to take care of her.”
“What time did you get home?”
Crow didn’t answer.
“Would the judge instruct the witness to answer?” Wall said.
The judge leaned toward the witness chair, and Crow, working through a band of intricate thought, said, “About three o’clock, I think. My dad was at the door. He told me the sheriff had called and that Sophie was in the hospital.”
Wall straightened his shoulders. “We already know there was underage drinking at this party. How about drugs? Were there drugs too?”
Crow wasn’t ready for this question. He had thought about his answer, but when the D.A. asked him he wasn’t ready. He hesitated. “No.”
“At this party, there weren’t any drugs?” The D.A. kept restraint in his voice.
“Some, I guess.”
“Some, you guess.” The district attorney faced the judge.
“Did you take any drugs yourself?”
“No.”
“Did Sophie have anything to drink? How old is Sophie Chabot?”
“Fourteen.”
“Did you get her drunk before taking her to the woods?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Crow objected.
Raymond Butler stood. “He’s badgering the witness, Your Honor.”
“Cool down your tone, Mr. Wall,” the judge said.
“But she had been drinking that night, is that right?”
“I guess she’d had a little.” Crow could not look up, could not lift his head.
“How much?”
“I don’t know, but she wasn’t drunk. I’ll swear she wasn’t drunk.”
“If you’ll remember, you’re swearing to everything here.” Wall ambled back to the table as though he might be through, then quickly turned. “If there was so much affection between you and Miss Chabot, then explain why there was evidence of force found. How did Sophie get those bruises?”
“He’s badgering the witness again, Your Honor.”
“I’ll rephrase.” Wall turned again to face Crow. “Sophie’s body had bruises and evidence of rape. We have pictures showing the state of her body. Are you saying that you did not penetrate her?”
Crow put his face in his hands again. “I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t do anything to hurt her.”
“But you did have intercourse with her.”
Crow really wasn’t sure if he had.
“You’ve already testified to that.”
“We went too far,” said Crow, “and I had forgotten the condom, so I went to get it.”
“But you had already had intercourse by that time.”
“Just barely. I mean hardly at all.”
“One more thing, Mr.
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