31. Aubrey
Chapter 31
Aubrey
“ R alph is the best guy I know. A real stand-up guy.”
This is the testimony of Ralph Beaumont’s third character witness of the morning—another ride-or-die of Ralph’s who made the trip to LA from Prairie Springs for the hearing. The first guy knew Ralph from church; the second guy was his much older brother; and this third guy worked with Ralph on the police force for years.
It’s been easy for me to tell all three witnesses are full of shit. Hopefully, the judge—a no-nonsense Black woman in a black robe—can easily see that, too, since she’s the one who’ll be making the decision today. Thankfully, the judge blocked all cameras and the public from attending this hearing, so only people directly involved are in attendance. Except, of course, that the little girl at the center of this firestorm isn’t here today. Raine is safely tucked away in a small room down the hall, blissfully coloring or watching a cartoon with my mother and a social worker.
For the past fifteen minutes or so, Caleb’s attorney, Paula, has been cross-examining Ralph’s third character witness, the same way she did his first two. “Ralph promised you financial gain, in exchange for your favorable testimony today, didn’t he?” Paula asks with narrowed eyes and a chest full of confidence.
“No, ma’am,” the guy says. “I’m here because Ralph’s a good friend of mine, and it’s my firm belief the child should be with her grandfather.”
It’s the same exchange, basically, Paula had with Ralph’s first two character witnesses, and I don’t believe this third guy any more than the others. I glance at Caleb sitting next to me at our table, and, not surprisingly, he looks as disdainful as I feel. Except, in Caleb’s case, his disdain is manifesting as downright rage. Indeed, Caleb looks like a volcano on the cusp of erupting.
I covertly tap Caleb’s arm, prompting him to look at me. When our eyes meet, I nonverbally remind him, once again, to stop glaring at the witness like he wants to murder him. Both our attorneys instructed us to maintain neutral expressions throughout Ralph’s entire presentation this morning, no matter how outlandish the lies might be; and in response to my silent tongue lashing, Caleb somehow manages to erase the glower from his face. Sitting this close to him, however, I can still plainly see the homicidal blaze in his green eyes.
“No more questions,” Paula says in an unbothered, clipped voice. She’s damned impressive. Through her questioning, she’s established that none of Ralph’s character witnesses has any idea about his fitness as a father, because none of them, even Ralph’s own brother, witnessed Ralph interacting with his daughter, Claudia, except on a few, brief occasions in Prairie Springs, many years ago. Even better, Paula also established none of the men has ever witnessed Ralph interacting with or even speaking about his grandchild, the tiny human at the center of this custody dispute.
As Paula resumes her seat at our table on the other side of Caleb, I write on the notepad between Caleb and me, The judge isn’t buying his BS.
Caleb glances at the judge before quickly scribbling back, I hope you’re right.
“Next witness?” the judge asks Ralph’s lawyer.
“Ralph Beaumont, your honor.”
A shiver runs down my spine as Ralph settles into the hot seat. All I want to do is squeeze Caleb’s hand underneath the table to release my anxiety, but I can’t do that. According to our attorneys, Caleb and I can’t let the judge see us being too handsy or familiar today, because that might make her think Caleb’s somehow manipulated my “doe-eyed” testimony. That’s the phrase Paula used about me: doe-eyed.
After some preliminary questioning, Ralph says, “I didn’t even know I had a granddaughter until the police in Seattle called me about my daughter’s tragic death.”
LIAR , I write on the notepad between Caleb and me. Our lawyers warned us Ralph would lie, lie, lie today. But still, hearing him doing it makes my blood boil inside my veins. In truth, Claudia’s entire family found out, early on, about her accidental pregnancy, and Ralph and his side of the family cruelly disowned Claudia for being an unwed mother. Only Claudia’s mother supported her pregnant daughter, along with me and my parents. But even then, Claudia’s mother could only openly support Claudia, without the need to sneak around, once Caleb’s monthly deposit enabled her to get her away from her abusive husband for good.
After a few introductory matters, Ralph’s lawyer finally asks him the question I’ve been dying to know since Claudia’s death: “How did you come find out Mr. Baumgarten is your granddaughter’s biological father?”
“As next of kin,” Ralph replies, “I went to my daughter’s house after her death to gather her personal affects.” He points at me. “That kidnapper had already taken my grandchild to Montana by then, so I?—”
“ Mr. Beaumont ,” the judge snaps. “Just give us the facts without embellishment or accusation. We’re here to decide what’s in the best interest of the child, not to settle personal scores or vendettas.”
Ralph’s blue eyes blaze with fury. From what I know of this demonic man, he’s not a guy who reacts well to being scolded by anyone, but especially not by a woman. Somehow, though, perhaps by reminding himself of the substantial windfall he stands to gain if he wins today, Ralph grits out, “Yes, ma’am.”
“ Your honor ,” the judge corrects.
Anger is wafting off Ralph’s frame like a vapor. But he replies evenly, “Yes, your honor.”
On the notepad, Caleb scribbles, Judge = badass .
After reading Caleb’s note, I don’t dare look at him. Instead, I write back, She takes zero shit . Hopefully, that will turn out to be a great thing for us, since Ralph is nothing if not full of shit.
“What was the question, again?” Ralph asks his lawyer. And when the guy repeats it, Ralph leans into the microphone and says, “While I was going through my daughter’s stuff, I came across a confidential settlement agreement between Claudia and Caleb Baumgarten. That’s how I found out. That’s when I contacted Caleb with a fair proposal for me to take custody of my granddaughter and for Caleb to work with me the same way he’d always worked with my daughter. But to my shock, he rejected my good-will proposal and instead decided to go to Prairie Springs to buddy up with her —the kidnapper .” He glares angrily at me for emphasis.
The judge reprimands Ralph for his word choice again and warns him he’s on thin ice; and he begrudgingly corrects himself.
For another thirty minutes, Ralph continues spewing all manner of bullshit, including stories about his close bond with Claudia as a child and his desperate desire to give his granddaughter a similarly loving, stable, and safe childhood. “My granddaughter should be with blood family,” Ralph insists, shooting daggers at me. “Not with an unrelated opportunist who doesn’t care about her, beyond the child support payments.” He shoots daggers at Caleb. “And certainly not with a drunk, drug-addicted rockstar who only stepped up after he realized hiring a nanny would be cheaper than paying proper child support to a family member—someone with decades of experience as a parent, I should add, unlike both of them.” Now, he glares at Caleb and me as a collective.
I shift in my seat, wanting to scream bloody murder. To stand up, flail my arms, and shriek at the judge that this monster is a liar, pedophile, rapist, and wife beater. I fist both hands tightly in my lap, trying to control myself; and when I steal a glimpse of Caleb, it’s clear he’s experiencing a similar struggle. Although in Caleb’s case, he probably wants to leap up there and do something so violent to Ralph, it’d make the slap he gave Trent in Billings look like a love pat.
Finally, it’s Paula’s turn to cross-examine Ralph; and the minute she rises and stares down her prey, it’s clear she intends to rip this motherfucker to shreds .
Get him, Paula, Caleb writes on the notepad.
Succinctly, I dash off three exclamation points at the end of Caleb’s note.
“You disowned your daughter when she got pregnant out of wedlock, did you not?”
“That’s not how it happened.”
“No?”
“No. I suggested she marry the father. Or someone , at least. But Claudia wouldn’t listen to me, because her whole life, her mother told her a pack of lies about me and turned her against me.”
Paula perks up. “Is that so? What kinds of lies, Mr. Beaumont?”
Ralph’s face turns red. “She implanted false memories that turned Claudia against me.”
Paula leans an elbow on the lectern. “Describe the lies and false memories for me, please. In detail.”
Genius, I write on the notepad, trying not to smirk. Now that Ralph’s stupidly brought up the topic, how will he get out of this, without having to admit his daughter accused him of raping and molesting her? Sadly, Claudia’s not here to testify to that truth herself; but at least now, the judge will get to hear about those accusations through Ralph.
“I . . . I don’t remember,” Ralph stammers, his face turning even redder. Plainly, he’s realized his mistake.
Paula persists, at which point Ralph looks at his lawyer for help, prompting the guy to leap up and shout an objection.
“He brought it up himself as fact,” Paula argues evenly. “So now, he needs to back up his allegation.”
“I’ll allow it,” the judge says. She stares down Ralph. “Answer the question. What lies and/or false memories do you allege your ex-wife implanted into your daughter’s brain to turn her against you?”
Ralph hems and haws and ultimately claims he doesn’t remember, exactly. And, eventually, the judge instructs Paula to move on to another line of questioning. The damage is done, though, if you ask me: Ralph now looks like a fucking liar.
Paula asks Ralph a bunch more questions, all of them designed to establish his lack of contact with Claudia and Raine, as well as his lack of parenting skills. And when that’s done, Paula returns to our table with a covert wink at Caleb.
“We’re done with our presentation, your honor,” Ralph’s attorney announces.
The judge trains her dark eyes on me. “Miss Capshaw? Your presentation, please.”
Shit. While I wring my hands underneath the table, my attorney smoothly rises from our table and checks his notes. He’s a smart guy whom I’ve come to trust. As we’ve discussed at length, I’m here to support Caleb’s bid for full custody of Raine and my own unlimited visitations rights, because that’s what I truly think is best for Raine. If I sense things aren’t going well for Caleb, however, we’re standing at the ready to pivot and ask for full custody for me and visitation rights for Caleb . Frankly, it’d pain me to do that to Caleb; but the most important thing is keeping Raine out of Ralph’s clutches, no matter what.
Someone fetches my first character witness, my mother, from that room down the hallway, and she proceeds to testify that I’m the kindest, sweetest, gentlest person in the whole world and the best possible guardian to Raine. She talks about her own love for Raine. The fact that Raine is part of our family. And when she’s asked about Caleb’s fitness as a father, my mother confirms he’s become a wonderful, caring, and gentle parent. One she wouldn’t hesitate to entrust Raine with, as long as our family is always allowed to be involved, too.
My attorney asks Mom a few questions about Ralph. Specifically, about his reputation in Prairie Springs and what she knows of his general character. But Ralph’s lawyer successfully shuts down most of the questions as “soliciting hearsay,” whatever that means.
Finally, my attorney asks, “What does the child call you, Mrs. Capshaw?”
“Grammy,” Mom answers proudly. “Which is perfect, because I certainly think of her as my granddaughter.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Capshaw. That’s all.”
Ralph’s attorney says he doesn’t wish to cross-examine my mother. Probably, because he’s wary of opening Pandora’s box on all the bad things my mother has heard about Ralph from living in Prairie Springs her whole life. So, in short order, it’s Dad’s turn to testify.
Like Mom, my father swears I’m the greatest person who ever lived in the history of the world and a spectacular guardian to Raine. He also repeats Mom’s endorsement of Caleb, and similarly gets shut down when trying to say Ralph Beaumont is “well known in Prairie Springs” to be a “really bad guy and a liar.” Finally, when it comes time to reveal Raine’s nickname for him, Dad answers proudly, “She calls me Pop-Pop, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As with Mom, Ralph’s lawyer chooses not to ask Dad any questions. Which means, ready or not, it’s now time for me to take the stand and try to do everything in my power to keep my baby girl away from the man who’s evil incarnate.
“How do you know Ralph Beaumont?” my lawyer asks me, after getting some preliminary stuff out of the way.
“He’s my best friend’s father. Claudia and I used to go over to each other’s houses all the time, growing up, when we both lived in Prairie Springs.”
“Did a time come when you stopped going over to Claudia’s house?”
“Yes. After I witnessed Mr. Beaumont punching and shoving Claudia’s mother—” Ralph’s attorney bolts up and makes a screaming objection that makes me flinch. There’s a big bruhaha, as all the lawyers and the judge squabble about the situation. But, finally, I’m allowed to continue my answer, with the admonishment that I’m only allowed to testify to things I’ve personally witnessed with my own physical senses, and not about things I might have heard, second-hand, from Claudia or anyone else.
In a trembling voice, I describe exactly how I witnessed Ralph beating the crap out of his wife, and the few people sitting in the audience gasp and titter during my telling. “After that,” I say, “my parents wouldn’t let me go to Claudia’s house anymore. Which was fine, because I didn’t want to go back there, ever again.”
“Liar!” Ralph shouts at me, slamming his fist on his table.
“ Quiet ,” the judge hisses. She glares at Ralph’s lawyer. “Control your client, or I’ll remove him from the courtroom.”
“Did you tell anyone what you witnessed?” my lawyer asks.
“My parents. They reported the incident to the police, but nothing happened. Ralph was a police officer, and our town is very small, so we figured?—”
Ralph’s attorney barks out an objection, something about speculation, and after a bit more arguing I don’t quite understand, the judge tells my attorney to move on.
“Did you ever talk to Claudia about the abuse you witnessed?”
Another objection. This time, however, I’m told to answer the question.
“She said he did that to her mother all the time.” More objections. More waiting. When I’m allowed to continue talking, I figure it’s now or never: I have to seize my chance to say the one thing that needs to be said, above all others, or I might not get another opportunity. “Much later,” I blurt, “when we were living together in Seattle, we talked about how Ralph Beaumont sexually abused Claudia, countless times, during her childhood and?—”
Ralph and his lawyer both flip out, as people in the audience burst into hushed conversation, and the end result is another round of squabbling that leads to the judge personally asking me a question: “Did you have any reason not to believe Claudia when she told you these things about her father? Any reason at all?”
“No, your honor. Claudia wasn’t a liar, and she was sober at the time. She never, ever would have lied to me about something like that. I’m positive about that, your honor.” The moment I get my last words out, I burst into tears.
“Do you need a break?” the judge asks gently.
“Yes, please,” I choke out. “Thank you.”
“Fifteen minutes, everyone,” the judge announces with authority, before disappearing with a whoosh of her black robe through a door behind her.
“What’s your relationship to Mr. Baumgarten?” my lawyer asks, once I’m back on the stand and my tears have dried.
I glance at Caleb at our table, and a surge of love and affection for him overwhelms me. “He’s my employer.” That’s my practiced answer. The thing I’m supposed to say. But, suddenly, it feels like a lie to stop there. I’m under oath, after all. So, I add, “He’s also become a close friend, as we’ve navigated co-parenting the child together.” We’ve all been warned not to say Raine’s name in these proceedings to protect her identity.
My lawyer asks, “Do you consider yourself the child’s parent?”
“I do. Not by blood. But in all other ways that matter, yes.”
My attorney smiles, letting me know I’m doing great. “Let’s talk about your friendship with Mr. Baumgarten.” And off I go, explaining the history of my acquaintance with Caleb, the trust I’ve slowly developed in him, and the belief I’ve slowly acquired that Caleb would make a fantastic custodial father.
Unlike my mother earlier, I don’t bother to qualify my endorsement of Caleb with, “As long as I’m always in the child’s life.” Sitting here now, I trust Caleb completely. Enough to know he’d never screw me over in relation to Raine or anything else. Which means that qualifier simply isn’t necessary.
When my attorney finally sits down, Ralph’s silver-haired attorney gets up and levels me with cold, reptilian eyes. “You’re aware Mr. Baumgarten was in rehab until mere weeks ago, correct?”
“Yes. As I said, he employed me as his sobriety coach.” I clear my throat. “He’s very committed to his sobriety, and I think that’s admirable.”
“You know what got him sent to mandatory rehab in lieu of jail?”
“I do.” He asks me to explain what I know about the incident in New York, and I tell him what I know, as heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. “Caleb was devastated about his mother’s death that night. He was overcome by grief.”
Ralph’s attorney stares at me for a long moment, like he thinks I’m full of shit, before moving on to his next question. For the next few minutes, he tries to get me to admit I’ve witnessed Caleb falling off the wagon. That I’m covering for him. Lying under oath. But of course, he gets nowhere, since none of it is true. Obviously, he’s got nothing and he’s simply fishing.
After looking down at his notes for a while, Ralph’s attorney switches gears. He asks how much Caleb pays me. Tries to get me to admit the amount is exorbitant. That I’m being paid to lie today. But my attorney prepared me for this tactic, so I’m able to shut him down with facts and figures about the high-end nanny market. Nobody would pay the amount Caleb pays me in Prairie Springs. But in LA, and especially on the “celebrity nanny circuit,” my salary, while exceedingly generous, doesn’t seem quite as insane, thanks to Caleb being a rich, globally beloved celebrity.
With a snarl, Ralph’s attorney asks, “Miss Capshaw, are you aware of Mr. Baumgarten’s long history of violence?”
Shit. I didn’t see this coming. We didn’t practice this. “I’ve seen a couple old videos online of Caleb losing his temper, if that’s what you mean. But both incidents seemed justified to me.”
The attorney asks for details, and I describe the videos I’ve seen. In one, Caleb pushed a paparazzi guy, hard, after the photographer basically assaulted Caleb with a large camera lens. In another video, Caleb tossed a fan clear across the stage, after the guy broke free of security and came running at Red Card Riot’s famous front man, Dean Masterson. I try not to smile as I describe the second video, the one where Caleb protected his bandmate; but the attorney’s outraged reaction tells me I’m not successful.
“Mr. Baumgarten’s violence is amusing to you?” he asks righteously.
“That particular video was amusing to me, yes, because Caleb got there before security, and he threw the guy, like, fifteen feet across the stage to protect his best friend from getting tackled. The whole thing was so Caleb to me. So, yes, that one particular incident is honestly kind of amusing to me.”
Ralph’s lawyer quirks an eyebrow. “It was ‘so Caleb’ to you in what way? You mean, because it was shockingly violent?”
Fuck this guy. “No, because Caleb is incredibly protective of the people he . . . cares about. He doesn’t hesitate to go into superhero mode, whenever the situation calls for it.” Shit. During that answer, I almost said Caleb is protective of the people he loves . But given the time Caleb slapped Trent in Billings for me, that wording would have implied Caleb loves me , and I’m not certain of that, especially not under oath.
“Other than in videos, have you personally witnessed Mr. Baumgarten being violent?” the lawyer asks.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Does he know about Caleb slapping the shit out of Trent, or is he fishing again, the same way he did about Caleb falling off the wagon? If you ask me, the incident with Trent only proves Caleb’s worthiness as a father, since my own father wanted to beat the crap out of Trent, too, when he found out what my then-boyfriend had done to me. As a matter of fact, my dad stormed out of our house with a baseball bat to look for Trent, after he heard the news. Lucky for Trent, he successfully hid from my father for several days; and not too long after that, he moved to Billings. If Trent hadn’t skedaddled, however, what would my father have done with that baseball bat? Surely, something worse than a slap. And yet, there’s no doubt in my mind, Joseph Capshaw is the best father in the whole world.
“Miss Capshaw?” the lawyer prompts.
“I’m thinking about my answer,” I say. “I want to make sure it’s totally truthful and complete.” Like Caleb always teases me about, I’m a rule follower, through and through. I don’t knowingly lie, especially not when under oath. And yet, when I look into Caleb’s pleading eyes, I quickly decide to make an exception to my usual rules. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. I’d rather tell a little white lie today on the stand, by conveniently forgetting about a much-deserved, much-appreciated karmic slap, than risk Ralph coming anywhere near our beloved baby girl.
“Yes, I recall seeing Caleb being violent in my presence,” I testify, averting my eyes from Caleb. “He was building a deck at his lake house in Montana, and after he’d dropped a tool on his foot, he kicked that tool violently and shouted a string of curse words I shouldn’t say in a courtroom.” It’s a true story. But even so, I know I’m being less than truthful by bringing up this story, rather than the one about the slap in Billings.
“That’s not the kind of violence I’m asking about. Have you seen Caleb hit, kick, punch, shove, or otherwise assault another human being, including you, the child, or your parents?”
I glance at my father who’s sitting alone in the front row, since my mother must have gone back to be with Raine again. My parents know all about what happened to Trent in Billings. I told them and Miranda that delightful story during Caleb’s “rehab is over!” dinner party; and everyone at the table, including my father, busted a gut laughing about it. My father, in particular, praised Caleb up and down for slapping Trent that day. In fact, I’m positive my father appreciated that demonstration of Caleb’s character, far more than his generous gift of that new truck.
When my eyes meet my father’s, he nods at me, almost imperceptibly, letting me know he approves of my less-than-forthcoming testimony. Emboldened, I lean into the microphone and say, “The Caleb I know has always been gentle and non-violent in my presence. My whole family loves and supports him, completely. If I had any qualms about Caleb as a parent or as a man, if I thought he was a threat in any way, trust me, I’d tell you that. I love the child too much to let her fall into the hands of anyone who’d be anything but a wonderful, gentle parent to her.”
I happen to catch Caleb’s gaze and quickly look away when it feels like his eyes are screaming “I love you!” I feel the same way, of course. But now isn’t the time for anyone to see that truth in my eyes. Now is the time for me to keep a poker face.
Practically rolling his eyes, Ralph’s attorney asks, “Does that mean you’ve never personally witnessed him being violent?”
I take a deep breath. Please, God, let him be fishing right now. “That’s correct.”
Ralph’s attorney exhales and his shoulders sag in resignation. “No further questions, your honor.” And just like that, we’ve reached the end of my presentation.
“We’ll take an hour for lunch,” the judge declares. “After that, we’ll start the afternoon with Mr. Baumgarten’s presentation.”