When she finally got to bed on Sunday evening, it occurred to Mariah that she had not phoned Rory to tell her that there would be no need for her to come in tomorrow. It was too late to call, but she rationalized that Rory had surely seen the evening news. If anything, Mariah was surprised that Rory had not contacted her to say how sorry she was.
At seven A.M. the next morning, already dressed, Mariah was having coffee in the kitchen when to her astonishment she heard the front door open and a moment later was greeted by Rory. “Mariah, I’m so sorry about all that has happened. Your poor, dear mother would never have hurt anyone if she had been in her right mind.”
Why does her expression of sympathy sound so damn hollow? Mariah asked herself. “My poor dear mother didn’t hurt anybody, Rory, in her right mind or not.”
Rory looked flustered. Her graying hair was pulled back in its bun but as always a few strands were hanging loose. Her eyes, enlarged by wide-frame glasses, moistened. “Oh, Mariah, my dear, the last thing in the world I would want to do is offend you or your mother. I just thought that everyone believed the tragedy was caused by her dementia. I heard on the news she was in jail and she is going before the judge this morning. I was hoping he would let her come home on bail. I wanted to be here to take care of her.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” Mariah said. “If by any chance the judge lets Mom come home today, I will need your help. I didn’t go into my office at all last week, and I’ve got to start taking care of some things there.”
At precisely seven thirty Lloyd Scott rang the bell. “I hope you got some sleep last night, Mariah, but if you did, I suspect it wasn’t much,” he said.
“Actually, not much. I was exhausted, but I’m so worried about how we can prove that Mom is being framed.”
“Mariah, in case Kathleen is released, would you like me to ride to the courthouse with you?” Rory asked.
Scott answered for Mariah. “Rory, that isn’t necessary. I can almost guarantee that the judge will want to order a psychiatric evaluation before she’s allowed to post bail. That will take at least two or three days.”
“Rory, you go ahead home. Of course I’ll pay you for these days, until we see when Mom is released. I’ll let you know later on what’s happening.”
“But . . .” Rory started to protest leaving, but then she said, reluctantly, “Okay, Mariah, I hope to hear that you need me very soon.”
When they arrived at the courthouse in Hackensack, Lloyd escorted Mariah to the fourth-floor courtroom of Judge Kenneth Brown. They waited quietly on a bench in the hallway until the doors were unlocked. It was now only eight fifteen and they knew that within the next half hour the media would be everywhere. “Mariah, they’ll bring your mother to the holding cell adjacent to the courtroom a few minutes before the judge comes out,” Lloyd told her. “I will go in and speak to her when she arrives. The sheriff’s officer will let me know. When I do that, you just wait in the front row. And again, Mariah, it is most important that you say nothing to the press, no matter how much you want to.”
By now Mariah’s mouth was dry. She had been tempted to put on the black-and-white jacket she had worn to the funeral but instead chose a light-blue linen pantsuit. She wrapped her hands around the strap of the navy shoulder bag that now rested on her lap.
An incongruous thought came to her: This is the suit I was wearing two weeks ago when Dad met me in New York for dinner. He said that he always thought that blue was my best color.
“Don’t worry, Lloyd. I won’t say anything,” she said finally.
“Okay. The doors are open. Let’s go in.”
As the next half hour passed, the courtroom began to fill with reporters and cameras. At ten of nine a sheriff’s officer approached Lloyd and said, “Mr. Scott, your client is in the holding cell.”
Scott nodded and got up. “Mariah, the next time I come out it will be just before your mother is brought in.” He patted her shoulder. “She’ll be all right.”
Mariah nodded and kept her gaze resolutely forward, aware that she was being photographed. She watched as the prosecutor, a file jacket under his arm, took his place at the counsel table nearest the jury box. Now that she was here, the reality of what might be yet to come terrified her. Suppose by some crazy decision they actually put Mom on trial and the jury finds her guilty? she thought. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear it.
Lloyd emerged from the side door and went to his counsel table. At that moment the court clerk announced, “All rise!” and the judge entered from his chambers. The judge turned to the sheriff’s officers and said, “Please bring in the defendant.”
The defendant, Mariah thought. Kathleen Lyons, the criminal defendant whose only “crime” has been to lose her mind.
The same door Lloyd had used opened again. This time, two female sheriff’s officers came out walking on either side of Kathleen and led her to where Lloyd was standing. Kathleen’s hair was disheveled. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit with black lettering on the back: BCJ—for Bergen County Jail. She looked around and spotted Mariah. Her face crumbled into tears. Mariah was horrified to see that she was handcuffed at the wrists. Lloyd had not warned her about that.
The judge began to speak. “In the matter of State versus Kathleen Lyons, on warrant complaint 2011 dash 000 dash 0233, would you enter your appearances please?”
“Your Honor, appearing on behalf of the State, Chief Assistant Prosecutor Peter Jones.”
“Your Honor, appearing on behalf of Kathleen Lyons, Lloyd Scott. I note that my client, Ms. Lyons, is present in court.”
“Ms. Lyons,” the judge said, “this is your arraignment and first appearance in court. The prosecutor will read the complaint into the record and then your attorney will enter a plea on your behalf. I will then consider the amount and conditions of bail.”
Kathleen obviously realized that he was talking to her. She glanced at him but then turned to look at Mariah again. “I want to go home,” she moaned. “I want to go home.”
Heartsick, Mariah listened as the prosecutor read aloud the charges of murder and possession of a firearm for an unlawful purpose, and then Lloyd’s firm “not guilty” response.
Judge Brown indicated that he would now hear from the attorneys regarding bail. “Prosecutor Jones, since Ms. Lyons was just arrested last night, bail has not yet been set. I’ll hear your recommendations, then Mr. Scott can speak.”
Mariah listened as the prosecutor argued that the State had a very strong case and that he recommended a five-hundred-thousand-dollar monetary bail. But before she could be released, he also wanted an inpatient psychiatric evaluation so that the judge could set “appropriate conditions to protect the community.”
Protect the community from my mother? Mariah raged inwardly. She needs to be protected, not the other way around.
It was Lloyd Scott’s turn. “Your Honor, my client is seventy years old and is in extremely fragile health. She suffers from advanced dementia. Five hundred thousand dollars’ bail is extremely excessive, and unnecessary in this case. She is a thirty-year resident of Mahwah and poses absolutely no risk of flight. We guarantee the court that she will have round-the-clock care and supervision in her home. We beseech Your Honor to let her be released on bail today and schedule another hearing in a week regarding bail conditions after an outpatient psychiatric evaluation is completed. I note that I have already arranged with a bondsman to have the monetary bail posted in whatever amount Your Honor chooses to set today.”
Mariah realized she was praying. Please, God, let the judge understand. Let him send her home with me.
The judge leaned forward. “The purpose of bail is to ensure the appearance of a defendant in court and the conditions of bail are set to protect the community. This lady is charged with murder. She is absolutely presumed innocent, but I conclude that under the circumstances, it is imperative that an inpatient psychiatric evaluation be performed and that I receive a detailed report so I can make an informed decision regarding the amount of bail as well as appropriate conditions of bail. She will be remanded to Bergen Park Medical Center for an inpatient evaluation, and I will have a further hearing in this court this Friday at nine o’clock. She may not be released on bail until this hearing is held. This is the order of the court.”
Stunned, Mariah watched as the sheriff’s officers escorted Kathleen back into the holding cell area, Lloyd following them. Mariah stood up as he turned and gestured for her to wait for him. The photographers who had been allowed to take pictures during the proceeding were being directed by the sheriff’s officers to leave. Within a couple of minutes she was alone in the courtroom.
When Lloyd came out ten minutes later, she asked, “Can I see Mom?”
“No. I’m sorry, Mariah. She is in custody. They don’t allow that.”
“How is she? Tell me the truth.”
“I won’t lie to you. She’s very frightened. She wants her scarf. Why would she want to tie it around her face?”
Mariah stared at him. “She’s been doing that since Dad was killed. Lloyd, listen to me. Suppose she heard the shot and ran to the top of the stairs. Suppose she saw someone with some kind of covering on their face. Suppose that’s what’s going through her mind.”
“Mariah, calm down. I really think she’ll be released on Friday. Maybe we can somehow get through to her then.”
“Lloyd, don’t you see? If someone with their face covered came into the house, then either that person had a key, or the door was left unlocked. That lock is fixed now so that Mom cannot open it from the inside ever since she got out that time. We know the police said that there was no sign of forced entry. That’s part of the reason that they’re charging Mom.
“Betty, our housekeeper, told me she left at about seven thirty that night, after my parents had dinner and she cleaned the kitchen. She’s been with us for over twenty years. I trust her implicitly. Rory has been with us for two years. She sat with Mom during dinner and then got her to bed. Mom hadn’t slept well the night before and was agitated and tired. Rory said she fell asleep right away. Rory claimed she checked the lock on the front door, as she always does, then left. She said it was just a few minutes after Betty had gone.”
“Maybe it’s time to check on Rory,” Lloyd replied. “I use a very good private investigator on some of my cases. I’ll call him. If there’s something in her background that we should know about, he’ll find it.”