Chapter 39
CHAPTER
Benjamin Meyers
MAGNOLIA APARTMENTS UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
Benjamin Meyers knew the ropes.
Over the past decade, he’d taken countless witness statements. Scores of depositions. He knew how to talk to people. All kinds of people. Old, young. Friendly, neutral, hostile. He had a skill for turning hostile witnesses around. One of his superpowers, some said.
He stood at the door of a fourplex—an old house chopped into four apartment units. Ancient layers of lead paint cracked like crocodile hide, sloughing off the door’s brass number. A makeshift label—masking tape and black marker—read APT. #3.
Nobody answered when he knocked, but he could hear people inside, a babel of high-pitched voices, children shouting, arguing, making demands. He knocked again, louder.
This time, he heard a woman’s voice, her tone shrill: “Nova! You deaf? Get the door!”
Meyers waited. He heard footsteps, and a second later, the thunk when the dead bolt disengaged.
The door opened. A tall, Black teenage girl stood there in jeans and a T-shirt.
It was Meyers’s first face-to-face meeting with the State’s complaining witness. As the door creaked open, he wondered how he would be received.
One look gave Meyers his answer. Hostile. The girl clearly didn’t want him there.
Meyers gave her his trademark grin. “Hey, it’s Nova, right? I’m Benjamin Meyers. Pretty sure y’all are expecting me today.”
The girl cracked the door just wide enough for Meyers to squeeze through. He stepped into the tiny living room—a hive of crawling, rassling, squalling young creatures. He counted four, plus Nova.
Meyers raised his voice above the din. “Is your mother around?”
At that moment, Nova’s mom emerged from a bedroom, striking a pose in the doorway.
Meyers did a quick assessment. Mom had taken pains with her appearance.
Elaborate hairdo. Full makeup. Starla Jones was a remarkably attractive woman, and in admirable shape, especially considering she had birthed all the kids in the room.
With every witness, Meyers strove to be scrupulously polite, appropriate. “Good afternoon, Ms. Jones. I’m Benjamin Meyers. Counsel for Dr. Gaines.”
Nova’s mom was showing cleavage, and her jeans were tight. And she was barefoot, with toenails painted bright red.
She walked over and stuck out her hand. “Call me Starla.”
Maintain eye contact, thought Meyers. Don’t look down.
Don’t. Look. It was a challenge. Starla Jones was built like a brick shithouse.
“Ma’am, I appreciate you letting me come by your home to visit with y’all today. Hope it’s not an inconvenience.”
“You coming here? No inconvenience at all. You understand why I couldn’t come to your office with Nova. No way I could leave these other ones at home. They’d burn the house down.”
“Mama, look!” Meyers turned toward the kitchen. One of the kids had clambered up onto the kitchen counter and was crawling across the stovetop. Proudly.
Starla smacked her hands together. “Tre! You get off that stove right this minute. You could burn your damn hide off! Nova, get that child down from there!”
“I’m hungry!” the boy wailed. “I want chips!”
“We don’t got any chips. Nova, get him a cracker.”
“I don’t want a cracker!” the boy shouted.
“You can have nothing at all, then. Nova, put him to bed and lock that door.”
To Meyers, Nova looked doubtful, like she didn’t think lockdown was the answer. After she put the boy on her hip, Meyers saw her grab a Little Debbie pie from a shelf. She slipped the snack to the boy as she carried him down the hall.
The other kids were still romping in a corner of the room. But their mother’s presence seemed to lower their volume a smidgen.
“Come sit,” said Starla.
She led the way to a pair of sticky chairs at a round wooden table.
Meyers sat down and pulled out his iPhone. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
“No problem at all,” said Starla. She seemed welcoming and cooperative—unlike her daughter. Meyers got the distinct sense that Starla liked attention.
“Can I get your full name please?”
“Starla Simone Jones.”
“Age?”
“You probably won’t believe me. Twenty-eight.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?”
“Because I got all these kids, that’s why. And a teenage daughter. A teenager! Of course, I was a teenager when I had her.”
“How many altogether?” Meyers asked. He’d done a head count, but he wanted to be sure he wasn’t missing anyone.
“Three girls, two boys. Nova’s the oldest, she’s thirteen. My baby Caden, he not two yet. I just love children. Always have.”
“Starla, the district attorney has endorsed you as a witness for the State in the case against Dr. Bria Gaines.”
“That’s right, yes, sir.”
“And you understand that Dr. Gaines has been charged with a felony.”
“Oh, hell yeah, I do understand that. She aborted Nova’s baby. Sucked it out, killed it, threw it out like trash. And didn’t nobody ask me nothing about it. The mother! I’m Nova’s mother! Nobody told me shit.”
“Are you personally acquainted with Dr. Gaines?”
“Oh, I’ve seen her. Met her.” Starla crossed her legs, leaned forward. Meyers kept his eyes on hers. Her eyes were pretty. Big and brown. Like Nova’s.
Starla wrinkled her nose. “Dr. Gaines, she’d go to church once in a while.
Over to the Victory Baptist. That’s Pastor Erskine’s church, where we belong.
But she never helped out, didn’t bring anything for bake sales, nothing like that.
Some folks used to say that she thought she was too good for that kind of work. Because of her being a doctor.”
“So you’re a regular at Victory Baptist? You and your family?”
“Since Caden was born, yeah. They took care of me. Made a food train, brought a meal every night for weeks. I don’t know what I’d have done if it hadn’t been for Reverend Erskine. He got everyone to pitch in. That man has the true spirit.”
Meyers made a mental note. Baptist church assistance.
“Starla, do you think your daughter Nova was physically prepared to bring a pregnancy to term?”
“Sure she was.” She narrowed her eyes, like she thought it was a trick question. “I was just fifteen when I had Nova. Didn’t hurt me none.”
“But with your last child, you said you couldn’t have handled it without church assistance, am I right?”
Starla was impatient, her answer clipped. “Look. I didn’t say she was going to raise it. Nova’s just a kid. No way she could’ve kept it. But she could’ve had it. Delivered the baby. Nova would’ve been fine with that.”
Meyers glanced over Starla’s shoulder. Nova was standing at the front of the hallway, one foot in the living room. He lowered his voice.
“Some experts might say that carrying a pregnancy to term at Nova’s age would have negatively impacted her health.”
“Bullshit.” Starla tugged up on the neckline of her shirt. “I know what you’re trying to do. The cops explained it to me. The only way they’ll let Dr. Gaines off is if Nova’s life was at stake. But Nova was never in danger. You saw her! She’s a real sturdy girl.”
Meyers looked over to see if Nova was still there. She was. She was listening.
“Nova’s strong as an ox. And plenty big enough. She’s been wearing my clothes since sixth grade. She’s popping out the seams now. And her feet are too big for my shoes.”
Meyers glanced up again. Nova was standing with her head down, like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t even there.