Page 34 of Courtroom Drama
Irena Medley asks a rapid-fire series of questions, attempting to poke holes in Meredith’s account of the evening in question. How many drinks did Meredith have that night? “Two tequila sodas.” Were there side conversations going on? “No. When Margot speaks, she commands the whole room.” What was Margot wearing? “I don’t remember, probably something long and floral,” Meredith says.
“Was her hair up or down?”
Meredith shakes her head delicately. “I couldn’t say.”
“So, you listened to Margot go ‘on and on,’ as you describe it, about this book she was reading, and you were paying close enough attention to remember exactly what Mrs. Kitsch said but don’t remember what she was wearing or any details of her appearance that night?”
“I didn’t say I remembereverydetail of what she said. But I remember the gist of it.”
Satisfied, Irena Medley emphasizes how thousands of people have read this particular book, one that is afictionalizedretelling of Giulia Tofana’s life, none of whom have then gone on to kill their husbands, that we know of.
“Reading a book that thousands of others have read...” Irena Medley wrings her hands thoughtfully. “It’s an incredible stretch to assume a correlation to this case.”
“Is that a question?” Meredith asks, looking up at Judge Gillespy.
“No,” Irena Medley concedes, accomplishing, as I see it, very little of substance in her cross-examination.
It’s Albert D’Agostino’s redirect that truly hammers home the prosecution’s goal with this witness. “Ms. Dixon, were there any other relevant details of that conversation or others with Margot along similar topics, since my counterpart has suggested that the topic of a book Mrs. Kitsch may have been reading doesn’t apply here?”
“Yes,” Meredith affirms. “A week after that trip, Margot and I grabbed coffee after school dropoff. She was designing this flyer for an upcoming Sea Save event. I told her there were people who could do that, but she wanted to do it herself. She had a vision.” Meredith flipsher hand in the air as she saysvision. “Anyway, she left her laptop open when she went to the restroom, and I noticed the article she had pulled up in another window.”
“What was the article?”
“It was about this woman. Nancy something Brophy.”
“Nancy Crampton-Brophy?” D’Agostino fills in.
“Yes, that’s it. It was this news article about this woman who wrote romantic thrillers and became known for one blog essay in particular.”
I’m not familiar with this new reference.
Durrant Hammerstead and Irena Medley whisper to each other, likely discussing whether to object yet again.
D’Agostino continues quickly, as if sensing he’s on borrowed time. “Ms. Dixon, were you able to read the full article before Margot returned to the table?”
Meredith shakes her head. “No. But it was... interesting enough that I researched when I got home.” She raises her eyebrows at Margot, who stares as though she’s looking right through Meredith.
“What did you find in your later research of this woman Mrs. Kitsch was reading about?”
“So, this woman, Nancy Crampton-Brophy, became ‘famous’ for writing an essay.” Meredith leans forward again, painfully close to the microphone, and I can’t help but follow suit. She pauses for what I can only assume is dramatic effect, trained well by the show. “The essay title was ‘How to Murder Your Husband.’ ”
I glance at Margot, who shakes her head ever so slightly as if to say,You are wrong, you’re all wrong about me, in a desperate plea.
Meredith continues. “Apparently, after she wrote this ‘How to Murder Your Husband’ essay, she wasconvicted of murdering her husband.”
The expected whispers make their way across the room.
Knowing how things usually play out, I have a hard time believing these conversations would have occurred without Meredith or Tenley bringing them into the show as an attempted storyline. An Authentic Mom potentially plotting the demise of her husband? The other Moms and producerswould have jumped on the chance to exploit it—just the kind of hyperbolic storyline that would have been ratings gold for the show.
Judge Gillespy wraps her hand around her gavel, though she doesn’t lift it, the movement alone threatening enough to silence the gallery. D’Agostino is sure to note a summary of Nancy Crampton-Brophy’s case will be included as an exhibit, before focusing again on the jury. “No further questions,” he affirms, before setting in the direction of the prosecution table to join a clearly content D.A. Stern.
Damon looks over at me, eyebrows raised.
I attempt to hide my dismay.
17.
Restitution (n.)
