Chapter 38
Jack returned to Turner-Guilford-Knight Correctional Center on Wednesday for the deposition of Elliott’s mother.
Florida rules of criminal procedure allowed both the prosecution and defense to depose key witnesses before trial. First on
the prosecution’s list was Serena Carpenter. Jack knew from a simple background check that she was a convicted felon serving
a ten-year sentence at a maximum-security penitentiary, but her exact role in the case against Elliott was unclear. A guard
had tipped off Jack that she’d seen Elliott speaking to his mother in the cafeteria, so Jack arrived early and tried to speak
to his client before the deposition. The conversation went nowhere. At least as to Jack, the “speech strike” was ongoing.
“Please swear in the witness,” said the prosecutor.
Jack was seated opposite the prosecutor at a rectangular table in the center of a windowless room. A videographer stood at
one end of the table to record the deposition. The witness sat facing the camera, dressed in a prison jumpsuit, flanked by
the stenographer to her right and her attorney to the left. Jack didn’t know Racquel “Rocky” Horford well, but her reputation
was to avoid trial by cutting deals for her clients. Jack suspected that a deal was already in the works for a “good word”
from the prosecutor to the parole board in exchange for truthful but helpful testimony against Elliott.
The room was silent, the stenographer’s fingers frozen on the keys, as the witness pondered whether to “swear to tell the
truth.” A simple “I do” was the well-worn formality, but Elliott’s mother had her own way of doing things.
“Sure, why not?” said Serena.
The prosecutor introduced herself to the witness, then made a statement for the record:
“Because the witness is incarcerated outside Miami-Dade County, she may be unavailable for trial. If that is the case, this
video-recorded deposition testimony will serve as her trial testimony. Defense counsel should comport himself accordingly.”
Jack took the warning to heart: This deposition might be his only chance to cross-examine Elliott’s mother. “Understood,”
said Jack.
The prosecutor began with the usual formalities and quickly established the witness’s relationship to the defendant. Then
her questioning focused on a very specific moment in time.
“Ms. Carpenter, I was to ask you about the day Elle Carpenter gave birth to a baby boy.”
“I remember it well,” she said. “I was with her in the hospital room when it happened.”
“On that day, was it your understanding that Elle would be giving up the baby for adoption?”
“That was everyone’s understanding. We had a written agreement with Mr. and Mrs. Pollard. They were in the waiting room.”
“Did that understanding come into question at any point in time?”
“Yeah. Elle changed her mind.”
“When?”
“It was pretty quick. Even where the adoptive parents have been picked and are outside the room waiting, they don’t just whisk
the baby away from the mother the moment she gives birth. Elle got to hold the baby. When the nurse came to take him, Elle
looked at me and said, ‘I’m keeping him.’”
“What happened next?”
“We argued, but Elle wouldn’t budge. So, I went to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Pollard in the waiting room. I told them Elle had
changed her mind.”
“They were upset, I assume.”
“Very. They asked if I could get her to change it back.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I said maybe I could. But it would cost them another two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Jack took a breath. The Pollards were not a perfect couple, but no one deserved to be treated that way.
The prosecutor continued. “Did they pay you the money?”
“They did.”
“Were you able to persuade Elle to change her mind?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
The witness glanced in Jack’s direction, and they made brief eye contact. She seemed to be enjoying the fact that Jack was
hearing all of this for the first time from her and not from his client.
“I told Elle if she went through with the adoption, I would pay for all the treatments she wanted.”
Serena shot another glance in Jack’s direction, as if to say, How do you like that, counselor?
“By treatments, do you mean gender treatment?” asked the prosecutor.
“Yeah. That shit’s expensive. Hormones. Surgeries. Meds. Since she was fifteen years old, my daughter was threatening to run
off to Mexico and have it done by some quack on the cheap. I always fought her, until we cut this deal in the hospital. Honestly,
I never thought she’d go through with it, even after we had the money. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Very wrong,” said the prosecutor. “Now I want to move forward in time. After Elle became Elliott, did the two of you ever
discuss the decision to go through with the adoption?”
“Oh, yeah. That was interesting.”
Jack took a breath. Interesting. Mass murder was “interesting.” Adultery was “interesting.” It was one of those words that could lead to just about anything.
“Tell us about that,” said the prosecutor.
“Elle—I mean Elliott—came to see me. We hadn’t spoken to each other in probably five years.”
“Why did Elliott come to see you?”
“She—sorry, he—wanted to get something off his chest.”
“What?”
“Well, a lot of hurtful things were said. But what it all came down to was that he would never forgive me for making him give
up her—his—baby for adoption.”
“Because he could never have another baby? Is that right?”
“Objection,” said Jack. “The witness is not a mind reader.”
There was no judge to rule on his objections, but Jack needed to preserve them for the record if the video recording was to
be used at trial.
“I suppose so,” said Serena.
“Did Elliott tell you anything else?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
The witness paused and then glanced at her attorney. Jack had the distinct impression that she was trying to make sure she
stated her answer exactly right—exactly as rehearsed.
“Elliott told me that he was going to get his baby back.”
There it was. The deposition’s raison d’être. Not exactly a “motive” to kill Owen Pollard, but it was at least an explanation
of how things had turned deadly: a botched mission to reclaim the only child Jack’s client would ever bring into the world.
“Thank you, Ms. Carpenter. I have no further questions at this time. Mr. Swyteck, I pass the witness.”
Jack grabbed the figurative baton and moved quickly, giving the witness no time to adjust to what was coming.
“Ms. Carpenter, the two hundred fifty thousand dollars you demanded from Owen and Helena Pollard at the hospital was not the
only time you demanded money from an adoptive family, was it?”
“It was the first time. But no, not the last.”
“According to court records I’ve seen, you were arrested two years later.
You helped a nineteen-year-old pregnant woman arrange a private adoption and then, just after she gave birth, you demanded a hundred thousand dollars from the adoptive family to complete the adoption.
You pleaded guilty to multiple felonies and are currently serving a ten-year sentence in Lowell Correctional Institute for Women, correct? ”
“Yes. I regret that.”
“Do you also regret the way you extorted the Pollard family?”
Her lawyer raised her hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t answer that question, Serena. Mr. Swyteck, I have to object to your
use of the word extorted. My client has never been charged with any crime relating to the adoption of Austen Pollard.”
Jack spoke only to the witness. “And you’d like to keep it that way, wouldn’t you, Ms. Carpenter.”
“I join in the objection,” said the prosecutor.
“Let me ask it this way,” said Jack. “Ms. Carpenter, has the State of Florida promised you anything in exchange for your testimony
here today?”
“No.”
“But you hope there’s something in it for you, don’t you? You’re testifying against my client in the hope that you won’t be
charged for extorting the Pollard family?”
“Uh, no.”
It was a lame denial, which prompted the prosecutor to chime in. “Let the record reflect that the witness is testifying here
today because she has been subpoenaed.”
“Right,” said Serena. “I’m just here telling the truth.”
“Good,” said Jack. “Then let’s get to the truth. You demanded a quarter million dollars from the Pollard family. That’s a
lot of money, agreed?”
Serena shrugged. “To most people it is.”
“It’s more money than you can expect most people to come up with on the spot, right?”
“Depends on what you mean by most people.”
“I mean the Pollards. You didn’t expect Owen Pollard to go home, open the cookie jar, and scrape together that kind of money,
did you?”
“No. But I knew he could get it.”
Jack was almost certain he knew what she meant, but he proceeded cautiously. “You knew Owen Pollard’s business partner was
C. J. Vandermeer, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I knew.”
“You knew Mr. Vandermeer is a very wealthy man.”
“That’s what people say.”
“Rich enough to come up with a quarter million dollars on demand.”
“Objection,” said the prosecutor. “There’s no evidence that this witness has ever met and said two words to C. J. Vandermeer,
let alone had personal knowledge of his financial situation.”
Jack’s eyes never left the witness. There was a telltale smirk on her face, and it had been most noticeable when the prosecutor
had said the witness “never met” C. J. Vandermeer. It was risky to pursue a line of questioning based on a smirk, but Jack
followed his instinct.
“You knew him, didn’t you?”
The smirk returned. She didn’t answer right away, and the pause emboldened Jack.
“You knew C. J. Vandermeer. Didn’t you, Ms. Carpenter?”
The prosecutor suddenly seemed flummoxed, as if Jack were uncovering details that the witness had never shared with her. But
there was no basis to object.
“Yeah. I knew CJ.”
“‘CJ’? So, you’re on a first-name basis?”
The prosecutor was suddenly on high alert. “I fail to see the relevance of any of these questions.”
“Your objection is noted,” said Jack, and then he pressed his point with the witness. “Ms. Carpenter, you and C. J. Vandermeer