Under the Light - By Laura Whitcomb Page 0,59

in a light blue suit sat behind a nameplate labeled A.D.A. FARMINGTON, and next to him was a bald man with a tripod and camcorder aimed at Billy.

Mitch hung his head, playing with a piece a nicotine gum in its domed packaging.

A security guard walked up to me from down the corridor. “That’s a private deposition.”

“I’m family,” I lied to him.

He motioned me to be quiet, led me to a second door at the far end of the room, and silently pushed the door open just enough for me to slip in. I found a folding chair against the wall just inside and sat. No one noticed me. I held myself perfectly still, trying to blend in with the wall. I’d come to talk to Billy, but I’d have to wait—he seemed to be giving a statement. From my seat I could watch Billy in profile.

Ms. Ivers played with her pen as she spoke. “Mr. Blake, did the district attorney offer you probation instead of incarceration in this case?”

“Yeah.” Billy picked at the threads of a tiny hole that was starting in the knee of his jeans.

“Why?”

Billy glanced at Mr. Sawyer. “They wanted me to testify against Grady and Roth.”

“That implies my clients are guilty and you’re innocent,” said Ms. Ivers. “But weren’t you an integral part of this crime?”

“I don’t know about integral,” said Billy. “But I don’t think I’m innocent.”

Mr. Sawyer shifted but didn’t speak. Mitch looked like he was about to get up and shake some sense into his brother.

Ms. Ivers leaned forward. “You’re not innocent? What are you guilty of?”

“I should have stopped it,” said Billy.

“You could have been the hero?” she asked.

“I just mean, I think I could have stopped it if I tried.” Billy thought for a second. “I’m sure I could have.”

“Didn’t Miss Dodd make a statement that you were an eyewitness to the assault?”

“That’s incorrect,” Mr. Sawyer interrupted. “Miss Dodd amended her statement.”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” said Ms. Ivers. “Miss Dodd later says that it was Mr. Roth who observed.” Ms. Ivers made a note on her legal pad. “But she recognized you. Seeing you on campus at your high school was how she was able to track down Mr. Grady and Mr. Roth, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” said Billy. “She probably remembered me because I was the first one to talk to her.”

Ms. Ivers made another note. “Isn’t it true you have a memory gap of over two weeks in length?”

Billy seemed to sense a trick. “Yeah.”

“Isn’t it true that when first arrested you claimed you could not testify against my clients because you didn’t remember the event?”

Billy nodded.

Mr. Farmington said, “Please speak your response.”

Billy cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “That’s what I was told. Yeah.”

“That’s what you were told?” Ms. Ivers asked. “Meaning you don’t recall making that statement?”

“Right.”

“So you do in fact remember the crime in this case.”

“Yeah.”

Ms. Ivers twirled the pen in her fingers. “Six days ago you visited your father, who is in prison, correct? That’s when you changed your story?”

Billy glanced at Mr. Sawyer, who said nothing. “The story never changed. I just couldn’t remember what happened until that day.”

“Was it getting a glimpse of prison life that made you suddenly remember what supposedly happened, that it was my clients alone who committed the rape?”

The word hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe. The room seemed to tilt—my stomach shifted. Maybe I hadn’t heard right.

“I’m telling the truth,” Billy said. “Give me a lie detector test if you want.”

“Just answer all questions honestly,” said Mr. Farmington. “And remember that you’re under oath.”

My body was rebelling—the instinct was to run. My legs, acting on their own, started to tense as if I was about to stand up. Now I was breathing too fast—my vision started to go salt-and-pepper. I thought of putting my head down so I wouldn’t faint, but I didn’t want to look away from Billy.

“The truth is, I have this gap in my memory,” he said. “So I don’t remember driving to the prison or walking in. I sort of woke up in the visiting room and my dad was sitting there at a table and he looked really old. Anyway, Mitch was yelling at him and crying—” Billy stopped as if he’d told too much. “I could remember everything then, except the two or three weeks before.”

“You said you ‘woke up’?” asked Ms. Ivers. “Were you sleepwalking?”

“No.”

“Was it an alcohol- or drug-induced blackout?”

“I don’t think so.”

Mr. Sawyer cut in. “My client is not