False accusations

CHAPTER 67

The evening temperature had been a bone-chilling 26 degrees. While it was not nearly as cold as most winter nights in the East, many people native to the Sacramento area considered the 20s unusually frigid, and fireplaces were burning into the early morning, casting a fog-like pall over the moonlit gray sky. The air smelled of smoke, and flakes of ashes lazily rode the gentle breeze through the teeth-chattering night air.

Madison arrived at the Superior Court building at 8:25 Friday morning. Although the police had long ago released his car to him, having examined, videotaped, and photographed it from every conceivable angle, he chose to drive Leeza’s minivan. The thought of arriving at the courthouse in the very car that had been the subject of intense scrutiny during the past few months seemed in bad taste, and only invited more debate and comment-even though the damage to the front end had been repaired.

He was wearing a navy blue suit with a stark white shirt and a silk tie that was emblazoned with a brilliant red paisley pattern. His hair was immaculately styled and his face was dean shaven, lightly bronzed, and taut. It was Leeza’s suggestion that he spend yesterday afternoon at a salon getting a tan, followed by a massage, facial, and haircut. It allowed him to collect his thoughts, spruce up for the coming event, and relax.

As he entered the courtroom, the olive-uniformed bailiff led him to the witness chair. He glanced toward the jury. They appeared focused, students with pens and pads poised, as if he were the guest lecturer about to provide answers that were needed for their final exam.

This was the climax of the prosecution’s case, the make-or-break point. It was the jury’s opportunity to meet the man who was such an integral focus of this case. This was their chance to scrutinize him, to decide whether he was credible, worthy of their vote of confidence against Harding.

Both Denton and Hellman had decided that if the jurors believed Madison-particularly if they took a liking to him-they would feel the opposite toward Harding. The verdict would already be decided by the time they sat down to begin their deliberations.

“Dr. Madison,” Denton said at 9:15, “a few moments ago you outlined your medical credentials, appointments, and accomplishments. A rather long list. I bet you’re proud of them.”

“I am. I’ve worked hard for each one of them.”

“How about your activities outside of medicine?”

“I have a wife and two young children.”

“Doesn’t leave much time for anything else, does it?” Denton asked.

“No, it doesn’t,” Madison said with a chuckle.

“But you have been involved in other things, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us about those activities?”

“I served as president of the American Heart Association for two years, I was a board member for the American Cancer Society and the Sacramento Symphony, and until recently, I served on the River City Theater Company’s board of directors. I’ve been a board member and vice president of the Consortium for Citizens with Mental Retardation. I’m currently president of the Consortium.”

“Do you get any compensation for any of this?”

“Are you asking me if I get paid?”

“Yes. Money or other benefits of any sort.”

“No. It’s volunteer work. I don’t receive anything. Other than the satisfaction of doing something to help others.”

“Dr. Madison, do you give money to charitable interests?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Approximately, how much did you give to nonprofit causes last year?”

“A little over eighteen thousand dollars.”

“Thank you, sir.” Denton and Madison had worked on this preamble in advance, and appeared to be in a rhythm together. He proceeded to ask him about his relationship with Brittany Harding, how he came to meet her, his dealings with her, and his conversations with Michael Murphy when it became apparent that she was providing less than a stellar performance as interim administrative officer.

“And how did she react when you suggested to her that she should submit a job application for the position she was temporarily holding?”

“She was angry, surprised.”

“Objection,” Warwick said from his seat. “The witness couldn’t possibly have known my client’s state of mind unless he’s also a world-class clairvoyant.”

“Your Honor,” whined Denton.

“Cut the sarcasm, Mr. Warwick. Objection sustained.”

“Dr. Madison,” Denton said, “in your opinion, how did Miss Harding appear to you after informing her that she would have to apply for the position?”

“I thought she looked angry, and surprised.”

“Did she ever submit an application?”

“I don’t believe she did.”

“Let’s move on to the rape accusations that she made against you.” He took Madison through his side of the story, her unexpected appearance at his house, the examination, her two phone calls.

“And after she left, did you notice anything missing?”

“Not until sometime after, when my wife couldn’t find her set of keys to my car.”

“Where were they usually kept?”

“On a hook in our kitchen, next to the telephone.”

“When was it that she noticed the keys were missing?”

“It was after Brittany Harding was at my house, I don’t remember the exact date. They were spare keys, not something my wife used very often. And she was…away for a while. I think it was about a week after she got back that she realized the keys were missing.”

“Why was your wife away?”

Madison shifted a bit in his seat, leaned forward, glanced over at the jury, then looked back at Denton. “She took the kids and left me.”

“And why was that?”

“It started a couple of days after Miss Harding lost her job at the Consortium. I was outside my house pruning the rose bushes. The defendant drove up, got out of her car, and started screaming at me. Something about my having slept with her, and that she’d get even by going to the police for what I did to her. I didn’t know what she was talking about. But my wife saw the entire fiasco.”

“Did Miss Harding follow through with her threat?”

“She filed a complaint with the police, and they investigated me.”

“This was, what, five weeks after she alleged the rape to have occurred?”

“Yes. It was obviously an attempt at revenge, at getting back-”

“Objection,” Warwick said, jumping up from his seat. “I thought we established the witness isn’t telepathic-”

“Sustained. Dr. Madison,” Calvino said, “please only tell us what you know, and do not speculate on the thoughts of others.”

Madison nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What happened after the police investigated you?”

Madison described his meetings with the two detectives, and related the fact that his attorney was then approached for monetary compensation by Movis Ehrhardt, over the threat of mass media exposure of the alleged rape.

“It was the same thing she did to an ex-employer of hers a couple of years back-extortion.”

“Objection!” Warwick shouted.

Calvino looked over at Madison. “Doctor, please refrain from making comments unless it deals with something you have direct knowledge about.”

“Doctor,” continued Denton, attempting to brush over the admonition. It was crucial that Madison be seen in a favorable light by the jury. “What happened next?”

“I paid her. My attorney and I felt it was less damaging to pay her the money and stop her from going to the media with this bogus accusation than risk ruining my career.” He looked over at Harding, his eyes fixed and his gaze hard. She stared him down. “A couple of days later, my wife received a manila envelope in the mail with a copy of the check I had written to the defendant, as well as a copy of the written agreement outlining the terms of the settlement. There was also a picture of myself and the defendant.” He paused and shook his head, out of disbelief. Tears welled up in his eyes. “My wife didn’t know about the payment. When she got all this stuff in the mail, she didn’t know what to think, and I was away at a surgery conference. She took the kids and left.”

Denton paused, giving the jury a moment to reflect on his witness’s grief.

A moment later, Madison cleared his throat. “My attorney was able to get the money returned because she’d broken our agreement.”

“Why didn’t you tell your wife about the settlement?”

“My friend thought it would upset her, that it wasn’t worth dragging her into it. At the time, I thought he was right. But later, I realized I should’ve discussed it with her.”

Denton nodded, suggesting that he understood-and that the jury should understand, too. “Was that the last contact you had with Brittany Harding?”

Madison chuckled sarcastically. “No. It was not. She and I ran into each other in a supermarket. She was irate, started yelling at me. Called me a rapist. Told me that she was going to get even, make me pay.”

“Did you notice what she had in her basket?”

“One item in particular.”

“And what was that item?”

“A six-pack of Millstone Premium Draft beer.”

“And why is it that you noticed that one specific item?”

“I’d turned a comer of an aisle and nearly ran into her basket. That’s when I saw the gold- and brown-colored packaging of the Millstone six-pack. At that moment, I didn’t even realize that she was the one I nearly collided with. But after she started screaming at me, I even said to her, ‘Why don’t you go home and drown yourself in that beer and stay out of my life.’ Something like that.”

Madison continued to expound upon the subsequent events, including his interaction with Ronald Norling, the checker, as well as Harding’s behavior as he left the market.

“Dr. Madison, how has this entire episode with the defendant affected your life?” Denton asked.

Madison looked down at his lap and paused. When he looked up, his eyes were again glassy. “I wish I’d never met Brittany Harding…she nearly destroyed my personal and professional lives. My wife and children left me. My practice is a ghost of what it once was. I lost my privileges at the hospital I helped build. I’ve been attacked in public. My friends stayed away out of fear of association. The embarrassment, the stress-” He stopped, bit his lip. “It’s impossible to describe what I’ve been through. What my family’s been through.” He grabbed a tissue from the dispenser on the shelf in front of the witness chair and ran it across his wet eyes.

“When it all comes down to it, all you have in life is your good name, your reputation, family and friends. She took all of that away from me. I can’t explain what it was like not knowing when it was going to end, what scheme she was going to dream up next. When she was going to stop.”

Denton glanced to his left at Harding, who was staring at Madison. Even from this distance, he could see that her jaw was clenched, her shoulders bunched up toward her ears. Burning anger. Intense hatred. Denton waited a moment, allowing the jury to see her less-than-subtle reaction to Madison’s testimony. Finally, he turned back to his witness. “Thank you. Nothing further.”

“Doctor,” Calvino said, “do you need a short break to collect yourself?”

Madison took a breath and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Your Honor. No, I’ll be fine. I’d rather get this over with.”

Calvino nodded. “Mr. Warwick, you may begin cross.”

“Dr. Madison,” Warwick said as he arose and briskly walked toward the witness, “your wife didn’t really leave you, now did she?”

“Yes, she did. I didn’t know if she was ever going to come back.”

“But she did come back, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Sir, who is Catherine Parker?”

Madison swallowed hard. Denton clenched his jaw and leaned over to his assistant, whispering in his ear, inquiring as to who Catherine Parker was and what significance there could be to the case.

“…a friend, you say?” Warwick was asking.

“Yes. We go back a long time, to law school. We haven’t kept in touch.”

“In fact, you were going to marry Miss Parker, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, eighteen years ago.”

“And what happened?”

“She married someone else.”

“When was the last time that you saw her, Doctor?”

“Objection!” Denton was on his feet, waving his hands in the air. “Your Honor, this is completely irrelevant.”

Calvino looked down at Warwick, cocking his head as if to ask for a response.

“Your Honor, I will make the relevance clear shortly.”

“Remember, counselor, you don’t want to get into a situation where I have to count questions.”

Warwick managed a smile and nodded.

“Overruled.”

“So, Doctor,” Warwick said, “when was the last time that you spoke with Miss Parker?”

“About two or three months ago.”

“And what was the reason for that communication?”

“She called me. She’d read about the case in the paper, and read that my wife had left me.” He raised his eyebrows. “She was hoping that we could get together and renew our relationship.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I told her I wasn’t interested, that I still loved my wife. We had dinner and talked. Caught up on eighteen years of being out of touch.”

“Did you have intercourse with Miss Parker that night?”

Madison sat straight up and his face flushed. “Absolutely not. Not that night or any other night. I haven’t had relations with Miss Parker in eighteen years.”

“Your Honor,” Denton said, “I renew my objection to the relevance of this line of questioning.”

“I believe it goes to the credibility of the witness.”

“What, that he had dinner with an old friend?”

“It was more than that, Your Honor.”

“Does counsel have proof?” Denton shot back.

Calvino looked over at Warwick, his eyes tiny and his brow crumpled. “Well, counselor, do you?”

“We’re following up some leads as we speak, Your Honor.”

“That sounds to me like a ‘no.’ Mr. Warwick, you’ve asked the court for leniency on two occasions and failed to make your case both times. I suggest you stop reaching and stick to the facts. I won’t tolerate any more waste of the court’s time.”

Warwick walked over to the defense table and picked up a folder. “Dr. Madison,” he said, turning to face the witness, “a while ago you outlined all of the hardships you’ve had to endure because of your relationship with my client. My heart goes out to you, sir.”

“Objection.”

“Sustained. Mr. Warwick-”

“I’ll get to a question, Your Honor.” He got a nod from Calvino and a wave of a hand to make it quick.

“Do you still have your family?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have your big, expensive house?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have your license to practice medicine?”

“Yes.”

“Were your hospital privileges reinstated?”

“No.”

“Do you expect them to be?”

“I’ve gotten no assurances, but I hope so.”

Warwick began to approach Madison. “And you still have your health. Otis Silvers and Imogene Pringle, the two people who were run over, had nothing. With the exception of a young child, Ms. Pringle had no family. In fact, aside from a few meager possessions, the only thing they had was their lives, and even that was taken away from them.”

“Sir, you have no idea how awful I feel that these people were killed-not to mention the fact that my car was used to commit this heinous crime. I’ve devoted my life to saving people from pain and suffering, to improving their condition. But I can’t be responsible for your client’s illness. She’s a sick individual who in my professional opinion requires treatment.”

“Your Honor, move to strike!”

“So stricken,” Calvino said, his voice booming through the speakers in a fit of sudden anger. “Dr. Madison, do not offer medical opinions as to the state of Miss Harding. That is not your purpose here today, and if you do so again, I’m going to have to hold you in contempt of court.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

“Jury will disregard that last comment by the witness.

“Continue, Mr. Warwick.”

Warwick paced back over toward the defense table, stood looking down at it for a moment, at a pad of notes; he then turned to Madison. “In order for Miss Harding to have committed this crime, sir, she would’ve had to break into your garage and steal your car. Isn’t that right?”

“No.”

“No? Oh, that’s right. You said that your wife’s set of keys to your car were missing.”

“That’s correct. Stolen, by the defendant.”

“That’s a lie!” Harding was standing, her face beet red, her flowing auburn locks tousled. “You’re lying. I didn’t steal the keys or your car-”

“Counselor, get your client under control immediately or I’ll have her removed.”

Warwick had already been struggling with her, pushing down on her shoulders, trying to make her sit, his face squarely in front of hers, locking on her eyes. As Harding took her seat, her chest still heaving with anger, the bailiff who was hovering nearby took a few steps backward. Warwick whispered something in her ear and then turned toward Madison again. He glanced down at his notes, took a deep breath, and began again where he had left off.

“You contend that my client had a set of keys to your car. If that’s true, how did she get into the garage? Don’t you lock it at night?”

“My wife’s set of keys had a key to the side garage door on it.”

Warwick seemed to be caught off guard; even though it was something that he should have anticipated, he apparently did not. “When you realized that the keys had been missing, didn’t you have the lock changed as a precaution?”

“As I testified earlier, my wife had left me, and it wasn’t until a week after she returned that she realized they were gone. And at that time, my mind was on other things. I didn’t think of it.”

“Don’t you mean that you weren’t concerned because the keys were in fact never stolen?”

Madison clenched his jaw but maintained his demeanor. “No, sir. I meant exactly what I said. My mind was on other things. Given all that I’d been through, that’s perfectly understandable.”

Warwick began walking toward Madison again. “Do you have an alarm in your house, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Does it also protect the garage when you turn it on?”

“Yes.”

“When do you usually arm the alarm?”

“Right before we go to bed.”

“And at what time had you gone to bed the night of the murders?”

“As I told the detectives, I fell asleep while watching television that night, around eleven o’clock.”

“Eleven.”

“So I never set the alarm that night. I awoke around four in the morning when the police came to the door.”

Warwick reached the witness box and leaned on the railing, looking down at Madison. “Do you have a car alarm?”

“Yes, I do. But it doesn’t arm itself unless I lock the car doors. I don’t lock the car when it’s parked in the garage because the garage is alarmed. Besides, there’s a remote arming device on the same keychain as the spare car key. Without the arming device, the key wouldn’t do my wife much good.”

Warwick clenched his jaw, moved to his next question. “You have a dog, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a good watchdog?”

“At times.”

“I hear that Labs are excellent watchdogs.”

“Like with people, generalizations are not always accurate. He’s a good watchdog at times. ”

“And when are those times that he’s particularly effective?”

“When he’s downstairs or on the second floor. I’ve got a big house. If he’s upstairs and asleep, he usually doesn’t hear anything in the garage, which is separate from the house.”

Warwick chuckled and turned to face the jury for a moment. “So you’re saying that because your dog was asleep, he didn’t hear anything. A dog that’s a heavy sleeper,” he sneered mockingly, shaking his head, as if to say, Do you believe this? He turned back to Madison. “Did he awaken you the night of the murders? Had he heard any strange noises?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I don’t recall him waking me up.”

“So what you’re saying, if I may paraphrase-and please stop me if I’m wrong-is that Miss Harding stole your keys, took a chance that your house alarm wasn’t armed, stole your car, ran down these two people, planted the beer in the backseat, returned your car to the garage, again risking the fact that the alarm might be set, and then left? And your dog never heard any of it?”

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. That’s what the police are saying. I’m not saying anything other than what I’ve told the police, yourself, and Mr. Denton.”

Warwick waved a hand at Madison in disgust. “I have nothing further at this time for this witness. We reserve the right to recall him if additional evidence becomes available.”

“Redirect?” the judge asked.

Denton looked up toward Calvino. “Yes, Your Honor. A few questions, if I may.” He stood and walked over to Madison.

“Doctor, did you ever tell Brittany Harding that your home has an alarm?”

“No.”

“Do you have any of those signs or stickers posted anywhere on your house warning anyone of an alarm?”

“No, my wife thought they were ugly.”

“Are there homes in your area that don’t have alarms? Please don’t answer unless you have direct knowledge,” he said, sensing Warwick preparing to pounce like a hungry leopard.

“I have two friends who don’t have alarms. One of them lives across the street. Matt Prisco. The other house belongs to the Fentons, down the block. There may be more, but I don’t personally know of any others.”

“So, unless the person breaking in knows you personally, or knows someone who knows you personally, the burglar wouldn’t know whether or not you have an alarm.”

“That’s correct.”

“Doctor, how many floors are there in your house?”

“Three.”

“Which floor is your bedroom on?”

“The third.”

“Does your dog usually sleep in the bedroom with you?”

“Yes.”

“And was he in the room with you when you fell asleep the night Mr. Silvers and Ms. Pringle were murdered?”

“He was.”

“Doctor, is your garage part of your house? By that I mean, are they part of the same structure?”

“No, the garage is its own separate building. There’s a carport between the garage and the house, and the covering of the carport connects the two buildings.”

“So it seems perfectly reasonable that your dog might not have heard Miss Harding three stories below, in another building, doesn’t it, doctor?”

“Objection!”

“Withdrawn,” Denton said, moving back to his seat. Brittany Harding looked at Warwick, her eyes pleading with him to say something, anything, to help her. But Warwick was busy seething, grinding his teeth, impotently watching his adversary settle into his chair.

Denton shuffled a few papers, then faced the judge.

“The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”

Denton raised a glass and tapped it against Hellman’s. “We’re done. Your client did well. Warwick will really have to come up with something powerful to save Harding.”

Hellman swirled his beer, examining the sediment. “I, for one, would like to see her put away, not just for killing those people, but because she’s evil. And I know she’ll never leave Phil alone. She’s not only delusional, she’s obsessed with him, fixated on him. I don’t know how he’s held together as well as he has.”

“Please pass along my apologies again to him. I still feel we did the right thing given our original information. Even though it made a shambles of his life, he was, at that time, the most likely suspect. But, shit, nobody’s perfect. We just missed it.”

Hellman raised his eyebrows. He felt it was a bit flippant the way Denton dismissed the hell that he had put Madison through. Yet, he understood that in fact they were not perfect, and that they were just trying to do a tough job: put the person responsible for a heinous crime behind bars. “His life was a shambles before you got involved. Don’t get me wrong-it got worse after his arrest, but at least you realized the mistake before it was too late.”

Denton raised his glass. “To a smooth conclusion.”

“A smooth conclusion,” Hellman said.