The clanging of the cell door opening awakened me from a fitful sleep. I sat up, my back and neck stiff from lying on the hard bench.
“Lawyer meeting,” the guard said.
She escorted me back up to the courtroom, and then to a holding cell behind it that I hadn’t seen before. I waited there for about ten minutes, until the guard admitted the Levitt Global lawyer, Courtney whatever-her-name-was, along with a second woman, whom I recognized from the courtroom as the older prisoner’s lawyer.
“Hey, Tabitha,” Courtney said. “Look, I know your husband asked me to represent you. And I’m happy to do that. But I was just speaking with Ms. Cohen here, who represents Howard Bishop. I don’t know if you know who he is, but he has a major hedge fund. Had, I should say. He’s in for embezzlement, and—”
“He was the gentleman you spoke to in the courtroom earlier. He told me you were in need of further advice,” the other lawyer said.
“Okay, yes. Definitely.”
“The point is, I don’t have much criminal experience—”
“I can tell,” I said, and pointed to the other lawyer. “If you’re saying she could represent me instead, then I want her. You can go.”
“Okay. Wow, great. Thank you. And you’ll tell Mr. Ford that I offered to stay, right? I mean, I can stay, to observe. In fact, he might prefer that I do that. He did ask for a full report.”
“No. This is my new lawyer. I want to meet with her privately. Please leave.”
“Oh, right, sure.”
My new lawyer pressed a buzzer. A few moments later, the door to the courtroom opened, and Courtney McCarthy disappeared through it.
“Thank God she’s gone,” I said.
The new lawyer laughed and pulled a chair up to the bars of my cell. When she sat down, we were at eye level with each other. She was in her fifties, with short dark hair and glasses, wearing a navy-blue business suit. She stuck her hand through the bars, and we shook.
“Suzanne Cohen. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ford, though I’m sorry it’s under such difficult circumstances. Call me Suzanne. May I call you Tabitha?”
“Certainly.”
“The judge is hearing a civil case now. We have about an hour till they call us to court, and there’s a lot to cover.”
In my agitation, I jumped to my feet and paced the tiny cell.
“Okay, but first, before I can focus on anything, where is my husband? I just can’t believe he would abandon me. It’s his money that would have to pay your fee. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that. Please, don’t you abandon me. But—has he? Why would he do that? I’m scared.”
“Tabitha, please, sit down. Come on, here. Have a seat. Give me your hand.”
I sat down on the hard bench and clutched her hand through the bars. It was cool and dry and felt like a lifeline.
“Ever do yoga?” she asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Deepen your breath, in and out. I need you to be calm enough to work with me on your defense.”
I sat for a moment, looking into her eyes, breathing in and out deeply. I felt my concentration come back.
“Better,” I said with a nod, and dropped her hand.
“Good. We’re under time pressure, so let’s not worry about the fee right now. As to where your husband is, that’s an important question. Do you know whether he’s distancing himself from you, and why that might be?”
“I don’t know it for a fact, but he’s not here, so—” I shrugged hopelessly.
“That may be for some reason that has nothing to do with your case. But if it does have to do with your case, it would be important to know, and we’re going to cover that. Rest assured that anything you say to me in the course of this representation is confidential. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“First, I want to make sure you understand the charges against you. DA Neely gave me a copy of the criminal complaint. Let’s review the evidence they have against you, before I ask you for your side of the story, okay? It’s important for you to know where you stand before saying anything.”
She took a paper from her briefcase and held it so I could see. The first shock was the title. “People of the State of New York v. Tabitha Ford.” Me, charged with a crime in New York State. But it was the next part that knocked me over. The charge. Murder in the second degree.
Murder.
I had to reach for the bars and steady myself.
“Are you all right?” Suzanne asked.
“I’m sorry. I’m five months pregnant, and I get faint sometimes.”
“Oh. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. It’s hard to be happy about it under present circumstances.”
“I understand. It’s good you told me about the pregnancy, though. I can use it to our advantage in the bail hearing. It may not get you out, but I can ask for Bedford Hills over Rikers. It’s a much better facility, meant for female prisoners, with better medical care.”
“You mean I might not get bail?”
I started to cry. She handed me a Kleenex.
“Tabitha, I know this is hard. But you have to focus and face facts. I need your help to defend you.”
I nodded, pressing the Kleenex to my eyes.
“Are you sure it’s okay to say I’m pregnant? Won’t they use it against me?”
“Five months pregnant, you said?”
“Yes.”
“In other words, your relationship with your husband began prior to Nina Levitt’s death?”
“Yes.”
“Well, yes, that could be used against you. Let’s hold off on telling them for now, until we figure out our approach to the case and to bail. Getting back to the complaint, as you know, Nina Levitt’s death was originally ruled a suicide. It’s unusual for the ME to reopen a case after ruling on it, but the police presented new evidence to the ME.”
“What evidence?”
I leaned forward, wringing my hands. As shaken as I’d been by the events of the last twelve hours, I’d still held out a faint hope that Nina had actually killed herself. The alternative was terrible to contemplate—that Connor was a murderer.
“Barry Ogilvy—the doctor who testified that Mrs. Levitt had terminal cancer—was arrested for trading opioid prescriptions for sex and cash. He’s in jail now, and he’s cooperating with the police in exchange for a reduced sentence. He now claims he was bribed into making that statement about Nina Levitt, and that in fact she was never his patient.”
“Who bribed him? Do they say? Was it Connor?”
“They don’t name names in the complaint, which at least tells us it wasn’t you. If they had Ogilvy saying you were the one who bribed him, they’d say so. That would be very damning evidence.”
“It wasn’t me. I can promise you that. Whoever bribed him was behind Nina’s murder, right? And I’m innocent of that.”
“Okay, let’s put your guilt or innocence to one side. We’re going to plead you not guilty at this appearance. It’s about gauging the strength of their case.”
“But can you ask if it was Connor? I need to know if he’s involved.”
“They’re not going to tell me that. If they had enough to arrest your husband, they’d do it. He’s not named in the complaint. My guess is, their investigation against him is ongoing. I think they’re trying to shake you down and get you talking against him. Based on this complaint, they don’t have a viable murder case against you—”
“Thank God,” I said, collapsing back against the wall. “Then you can get me out, right?”
“No. Tabitha. Please, let me say my piece without interruption, okay? This is not a good situation for you. They may not have a murder case, but they do have a viable murder conspiracy case, and the punishment is the same.”
I snapped forward. “What? How is that possible?”
“The complaint puts you at Windswept on the night of the murder, accompanied by your ex-husband, Derek Cassidy, who was arrested that night for assaulting a security guard. It also states that you each have a prior conviction for distribution of oxycodone. Oxycodone was found in the tox screen performed during Nina Levitt’s autopsy, in an amount about ten times the recommended dosage. It was enough to kill her even if she hadn’t drowned.”
My words came out in a rush.
“Okay, look. I was there, but I can explain everything. I’d just found out I was pregnant. I was trying to tell Connor, but he wouldn’t take my calls. I knew he was at Windswept, and I went there to find him. Derek followed me. He’d done it before. He was stalking me. I can prove that. I called the police on him. There’s got to be a report. I didn’t even know he was behind me until he started fighting with Steve Kovacs—”
“Kovacs?”
“The security guard. He works for Connor. And that drug arrest—it was Derek’s. I was just in the car. I didn’t even know the drugs were there. I took the plea because my lawyer said it was the best I could do. A misdemeanor, no jail time. Otherwise they’d charge me with a felony, and I might lose. You understand, right? You believe me?”
“On the drug charge, the fact that you took the plea—I’m afraid that leaves us limited room to maneuver.”
“Okay, I get that. Taking the plea was a terrible mistake. It’s been following me around forever. But that’s the truth. And you have to believe me, I was there to talk to Connor that night, not to hurt Nina. I never even met her. Seeing her across the terrace was the closest I ever got. Please, Suzanne. Tell me you believe me.”
She reached through the bars and patted my hand.
“Tabitha, please, try to calm down. We need our wits about us. My job is not to believe or disbelieve, but to help you do what’s best for yourself and your case. I have to be honest. This looks very bad for you. If by any chance you’re not being truthful—and especially, if Dr. Ogilvy could say you were the individual who bribed him—”
“No. Absolutely not. Unless he’s been double-bribed to say that.”
“Okay, then. I’ll take your word on that. And on the drug charge. I believe you didn’t know about your ex-husband’s drugs, and yet, that doesn’t really matter. You took the plea. They plan to use it to argue Nina OD’d on the same substance at issue in your prior conviction. I can ask to have your prior kept out, and it’s possible I would win. Prior convictions are almost never admissible. This one is six years old, and a misdemeanor. On the other hand, this is not your usual instance of the DA trying to admit a prior just to dirty you up. It’s not ‘Tabitha Ford is a proven criminal.’ It’s ‘Tabitha Ford had access to the type of drugs used in this murder.’ This prior has a special relevance, even more so because your ex-husband was there that night. I understand he’s currently incarcerated?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me about him?”
“Like what?”
“Do you have an ongoing relationship? Was he somehow involved in this crime in a way you’re not disclosing? I can’t defend you if I don’t know the facts.”
“Maybe I didn’t explain clearly. Derek ruined my life. He was dealing drugs without telling me, and he got me arrested. I divorced him. The only reason he was at Windswept that night is because he was stalking me. I want nothing to do with him, for the rest of my life.”
“Got it. That simplifies things. But your association with him is still damaging to your case. The prosecution will try to introduce evidence of his prior drug conviction and his presence at the house that night.”
“But why would I want Derek there? I hate Derek.”
“They might try to argue that he supplied the drugs you used to kill Nina—”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“I’m not saying you did, but they are saying that, Tabitha. That’s what you need to understand. And your prior drug conviction works against you. You can’t just assume that, because you’re innocent, the charges won’t stick. When things look bad, that can sway a jury’s opinion, even if it’s unfair.”
“That’s what my lawyer said the last time. That’s why I pleaded guilty to something I didn’t do, and I’m not going down that path again.”
“I would never ask you to do that. Look, I’m going to make a suggestion. The DA, Brad Neely, expressed interest in having you proffer.”
“What’s that?”
“It means he wants to sit down and interview you—with me present, of course. They think Nina Levitt was murdered. You and your husband are the obvious suspects. My read is, they don’t have enough to arrest your husband, so they picked you up first, hoping they could flip you on him.”
“I won’t lie about Connor to please them.”
“Nobody’s asking you to lie.”
“Yes, they are, because I don’t know anything. I told the cops that last night. If Connor killed Nina, he didn’t tell me about it.”
“What if we agree to an initial listening session? We postpone the bail hearing and sit down with the prosecution just to see what we can find out about their case against you.”
“Can we do that?”
“We can try. We let them make a pitch for you to cooperate, and I use that opportunity to ask questions. Before you say anything substantive, we break for a consultation. Then you and I can decide if it’s going to be fruitful or not. If not, we haven’t lost anything. But if their case against you looks strong, giving evidence against Connor may be your only option. I know that’s tough to hear. But you need to think of your child.”
Think of my child. That’s what I’d been doing when I plunged headfirst into a marriage with a man I really didn’t know. And look where it had gotten me.