Chapter Twenty-One

Despite the nasty storm that had half buried Hartford the night before, local media had camped out on the front steps of the Hartford appellate courthouse. Beyond Hartford, the attempted murder trial of local attorney Jon Roth was nothing more than a blip on the news radar. But, in Hartford, he was big news. Local television and newspaper reporters swarmed around both defense and prosecution legal teams as they climbed the stairs, the defense attorneys flanking Jon Roth on all sides.

Jewell stood at the top of the steps, off to the side watching the circus unfold. Since she hadn"t been present at the trial before now, and no one knew her as having any connection to the case, no one blinked twice when she walked past the media horde. She stood now, watching, her heart in her throat.

Jon Roth entered the courthouse with his team, neither him nor his lawyers making any comment to the shouted questions and accusations. As they cleared the courthouse doors, the prosecution started up the stairs. Barbara Roth and Ben Prescott walked a step behind the prosecution for the State, holding hands.

Benjamin arrived minutes later, once everyone else had disappeared outside. It didn"t matter that he hadn"t arrived with Barbara and Prescott, the media still swarmed on him. Jewell had to force herself to stay in the shadows watching him wave off the persistent horde. Some clearly understood his need to see a face to read lips, because they purposefully stepped in his path and shoved themselves into his direct line of vision. He never spoke, never responded, and just stepped around them to the main door.

Finally, he broke away and went inside.

Jewell waited until the chaos on the steps subsided, and the media that wasn"t allowed inside the courthouse disbursed, heading back to cars and various news vans parked along the curb. Drawing in a final, cold breath she stepped out of the shade from the massive pillars bracketing the stairs and headed for the door. She slipped into the courtroom with two other people she recognized as reporters from the steps, and found a seat on the prosecution side near the back. Benjamin sat two rows in front of her and slightly to her left so she could see his profile but he would probably have to turn in his seat before he noticed she was there.

He sat hunched forward, his head down and his hands laced together in front of him. Exhaustion sat on his shoulders as palpable and visible as a stone wedged between his shoulder blades. Jewell swallowed hard, fighting the lump in her throat. Moments later, all in attendance were called to order and day three of the trial began. A young girl, probably a college student working toward her practical credits, took her position to the side of the judge"s podium within Benjamin"s line of sight. As the room was called to order, the girl signed each word. Her motions were jaunty and she lacked finesse, probably having never communicated an entire conversation in Ameslan, let alone an entire trial.

District Attorney Audrey Whitman for the prosecution stood to address the judge, a staunch, late middle-aged man with more hair on his chin than on his head. Jewell gasped softly when D.A. Whitman called Benjamin to the stand as the final witness for the prosecution.

He stood, but an apparent stiffness made his motions slow. With a sharp tug at the leg of his trousers, he straightened his tie and sidestepped out of the row of seats, heading to the stand. The translator shifted her stance so her back was more to the courtroom, but within view of both Benjamin and the D.A. The short, stocky woman dressed in a navy skirt suit in charge of prosecuting Jon Roth walked toward Benjamin, stopping a few feet from the witness stand.

"Could you please state your name for the records?" she asked.

His features twisted before he even spoke, and he said the words as if they tasted foul in his mouth. "Benjamin Prescott Roth."

"Mr. Roth, could you please explain your relationship to the defendant?"

Jewell clenched her hands in her lap to keep from twisting them together.

"Until recently, I believed him to be my father."

The defense attorney, a pathetically thin man with a glistening pate she"d heard introduced as Attorney Pattinson, shot to his feet. "Objection, Your Honor, as to relevance."

"Your Honor, Benjamin Roth has been mentioned frequently in the course of this trial, though the defense has been very careful not to use his actual name, as if that might somehow allow the jury to harbor the opinion that he is somehow the helpless, useless burden to which Jon Roth has acted as benefactor. If the defense feels he is relevant enough to mention prior to now, he certainly should be given the chance to speak for himself."

"Benjamin Roth was not present at the incident and cannot speak?—"

"And yet, you keep bringing him up in your own defense. He can speak to the character of the defendant, Your Honor," the D.A. finished.

Benjamin"s attention shifted rapidly between the two attorneys and the translator. With each word, each jaunty sign, his features pinched harder.

"I"ll allow it," the judge declared.

D.A. Whitman nodded and turned back to Benjamin. "Mr. Roth, the defense has spoken frequently to the level of strain and stress Jon Roth accepted when he agreed to accept a child he didn"t father, especially considering the fact that this child was handicapped. I realize this may seem like a crass question, Mr. Roth, but are you the child the defense has referenced throughout this trial?"

"I am," he answered, snapping an angry glare in his father"s direction.

Whitman turned her back on Benjamin, addressing the jury and his attention shifted fully to the translator. "Mr. Roth, the defense has tried to convince this jury that Jon Roth was practically a saint for taking on a handicapped child who could never be anything more than a burden and a challenge. A child who would have to be taken care of, unable to function on his own in society."

Jewell never looked away from Benjamin, watched as each word made him grind his teeth and press his lips together until they were practically white. He looked away from the translator to answer, and she felt the tug in her chest the second he saw her. His dark eyes widened for a moment, staring at her. Then he closed them, visibly swallowing. When he looked at her again, Jewell nodded, just a dip of her chin.

"I would argue to this jury that you seem far from incompetent, Mr. Roth. Could you please tell this court what you do?"

"I am a fund manager in the aggressive growth capital management division of Bulwark Mutual Funds," he stated, his voice flat.

The D.A. scoffed, turning back to him. "You are modest as well, Mr. Roth. Aren"t you, in fact, hailed as one of the top ten fund managers in the country, and one of the top five fund managers for international and global funds?"

"Yes, I am."

"Objection, Your Honor. What is the relevance to this line of questioning?"

"Your Honor, the defense would like us to believe that Jon Roth is an honorable man who finally snapped under the burden of responsibility. I"m merely establishing that he holds no responsibility for Benjamin Prescott Roth."

The prosecution asked a handful more questions, and Benjamin provided short, succinct answers. It was obvious to Jewell that he didn"t want to be there. She had no doubt that he would do nearly anything to insure his father was found guilty, even if it meant putting himself on the stand. The prosecution focused on Benjamin and his accomplishments, continuously repeating his name whenever she could. It was clearly a ploy, but having not been in the trail before then, Jewell didn"t understand what the ploy hoped to accomplish. Eventually, Whitman ended her line of questioning, and opened Benjamin up to the defense.

Jewell sat up straighter, a steel coil of tension wrapping around her, as Attorney Pattinson for the defense stood and stepped toward Benjamin. "The prosecution has painted a very disturbing picture of Jon Roth as a man who lashed out against the boy he raised as his son, a boy who was conceived in betrayal but still benefitted from the wealth and status a man who was not his father could give him."

Benjamin"s only response was a twist of his lips into a mocking smirk.

Pattinson didn"t seem to notice, turning his focus to the jury. "If we"re going to paint pictures, let"s make sure it"s authentic. In truth, Jon Roth is responsible for the success you are today. Isn"t that true?"

Benjamin stared across the courtroom to Jewell. He drew in a long breath through his nose, pulling his shoulders back as he straightened in his chair. With slow, deliberate movements he raised his right leg and rested his ankle on his left knee, adopting a casual stance.

"Absolutely," he said with feigned sincerity.

The defense attorney twisted away from the jury, his momentary shock making his eyes pop. But he quickly regained his composure, shifting to lean on the edge of the defense table. "Based on the other line of evidence the prosecution has presented, your agreement surprised me, Mr. Roth."

"I am absolutely the man I am today because of Jon Roth."

"It"s refreshing to hear your appreciation."

"Don"t misunderstand me, Counselor." Benjamin"s voice held the cold authority Jewell had recognized the first time she met him. "It"s not appreciation you"re hearing."

Before Pattinson could rebuff Benjamin"s statement, he leaned forward in his chair and continued. "I don"t know what it sounds like to be called names. I don"t know what screaming sounds like. I don"t know what hatred sounds like, Counselor, but I know what it looks like. That"s what Jon Roth gave me."

The lawyer turned away and lowered his head, rubbing his hand across his mouth as he walked in front of the defense and prosecution tables, apparently engrossed with the wood grain of the floor. Jewell figured it was a ploy to set Benjamin on edge, to put him off balance, but this lawyer didn"t know him. Not like Jewell did. Not like the business world did. Benjamin was unshakable, determined, and had stood unwavering against more intimidating men than this schmuck.

"Your father—" Pattinson began.

"Jon Roth isn"t my father," Benjamin snapped before the translator managed to bring her hand down from her brow in the sign of "father" and point toward the defense table.

Pattinson held up his hand in concession. "I understand you only recently discovered your actual paternity, Mr. Roth, so I"m sure the court will forgive any harsh words on your part in regards to the man you"ve known as your father your entire life. So, I"ll reword. The defendant made sure you attended one of the best schools on the East Coast. You received a stellar education. Do you wish the jury to believe that this was an act of hatred toward you?"

"An act of revulsion, resentment, punishment…whatever you want to call it."

Pattinson chuckled and held his arms out away from his body, facing the jury. He consistently addressed the panel of men and women, and not Benjamin. "If that"s punishment, what do you think he would have done as a reward?"

D.A. Whitman stood. "Your Honor, I object. Counsel is grandstanding."

"I agree. Counsel, please keep your statements relevant and to the facts."

Pattinson smoothed the front of his jacket. "Fine. Facts. Your fa—Excuse me. Jon Roth made sure you saw a variety of specialists in the hopes of curing your handicap. He sent you to one of the best schools in the region. He encouraged you to greatness, which you apparently have achieved. He left you wanting for nothing. And now, you would like this jury to believe him to be what—Abusive? Violent? Capable of harming his children?"

"He left me with barely any means to communicate until I was five years old, when he sent me to Bridlethorpe because it was the only school willing to take a pupil so young in exchange for his sizable contribution. I was left there except for the vacation breaks when he was required to allow me to come home. He encouraged me by telling me I would be a constant burden and a useless drain on society. And the back of his hand encouraged me to take what I had to from him only as long as I had to."

Pattinson sighed and returned to his table, tossing a pen down on his legal pad. "Your Honor, I have no further questions for this witness. I have not yet heard anything relevant, and nothing more than the angry diatribes of a disgruntled son."

The judge turned his focus to D.A. Whitman. "Do you have any further questions, Counsel?"

"Just a couple, Your Honor." She walked around the table and approached Benjamin again. "Benjamin, I"m not going to ask you to rehash a difficult childhood, but I do have some questions for you."

Benjamin nodded, his gaze shifting past D.A. Whitman to connect briefly with Jewell"s.

"Benjamin, how old were you when you graduated high school?"

"Sixteen."

"So, you skipped a few grades."

He shifted, smoothing his tie. "I took a very heavy class workload, essentially completing four grades in two years."

"What was your GPA when you graduated?"

"3.96."

"Impressive. So, after graduating at sixteen, you went on to college."

"Yes, Harvard."

"How did you pay for your education?"

"Full scholarship to Harvard School of Business."

Whitman turned and walked to the jury as he answered her questions, confirming the lengthy list of accomplishments he achieved before the age of twenty-four. Some members of the jury shifted in their chairs, some looking surprised and others impressed. Jewell hadn"t thought to look at the panel of individuals when Benjamin spoke of his childhood. The difference in reactions might have been an interesting gauge for their response.

"Final question for you, Benjamin," she said, turning back to him. "I apologize if these questions seem crass. Could you please confirm for the court…are you completely deaf?"

"Yes."

"You have been since birth." He confirmed with a nod. "How did you communicate with your family when you were a child?"

"I don"t recall the earliest years, but I had a rudimentary ASL vocabulary until I was three or four years old. My nanny knew sign language, though not strictly ASL, and through her, my vocabulary expanded. I didn"t communicate with anyone but her until I was able to read lips and speak."

"Learning to speak with total hearing loss is a massive challenge, and one not all hearing impaired persons choose to tackle. Why did you, Mr. Roth?"

"A dyslexic learns to read and goes on to become a teacher. A paraplegic uses a wheelchair and wins a marathon. A blind man learns to program computers. My deafness is an element of my life, but it is not the definition of my life. I wanted to succeed in business. To do that, I learned the nature of global markets, I studied trends and predictions, and I learned to communicate with my peers."

"Part of learning to speak is learning to read lips, is that correct?" He nodded again in answer to her question. "At what age did Jon Roth enroll you in speech therapy?"

"He didn"t," Benjamin answered, his gaze shifting back to her. "Bridlethorpe Academy offered the option to me. Once I hit junior high level, I began to seek speech therapy options outside the school. By the time I graduated, I communicated in the classroom almost completely through lip reading and speech."

"You did this. Not Jon Roth. Why do you think that is?"

"The only thing worse than hatred is indifference."

Finally, the questions were over and Benjamin was dismissed from the stand. He stood, smoothed his shirt and tie, and stepped down, crossing the space in front of the judge"s bench to the rows of seating behind the counsel tables. His stone face was a mask of control, nothing but the pinch beside his eyes giving anything away to anyone who might look. Except for Jewell. She watched him every step, clenching her hands in her lap. Her heart hurt and her chest ached. He raised his head and his gaze connected with her as he walked down the aisle. He stopped at the end of the row he had sat in before the trial began, and Jewell held her breath.

Then he took the two final steps needed to bring him to her row, never breaking their eye contact. Jewell had to lean back and tip her chin to look up at him. He stood there for what felt like an eternity before turning and taking the seat beside her. Jewell reached for his hand, and he laced his fingers through hers, pulling their joined hands into his lap so he could enfold her hand between both of his. He dropped his head forward, his eyes closed tight and his jaw clenched so tightly that small muscles jerked in front of his ear. One hand held hers while the palm of the other caressed a constant rhythm across the back of her fingers and knuckles, an assurance perhaps that she was there.

The prosecution rested and both offered their final arguments, which continued for another three hours. The prosecution rehashed every piece of evidence, including Victoria"s testimony taken minutes after she woke and before she spoke to anyone in the family. Or with Dillon. They pointed out how every detail of her testimony matched the details provided by Dillon throughout his entire interrogation. Character witnesses. Expert testimonies. Forensic evidence that stood in direct conflict with Jon Roth"s statements. They droned on for nearly two hours. Then the defense did the same, shooting down every piece of evidence brought up by the prosecution. They treated every element as a waste of time, playing the confidence card, attempting to convince the jury that to even consider Jon Roth guilty of such a crime would be ridiculous. They placed incompetence on the police force who released Dillon once their suspicion switched to Jon Roth—who was clearly innocent.

It was nearly three in the afternoon before all closing arguments had been presented and the jury was prepped on their responsibilities. The judge released the jury to deliberate and released everyone in attendance until the jury returned. That could mean they would have enough time to get a coffee before being called back should the jury be convinced without a doubt one way or another, or it could mean several more days of waiting—even past the holiday—if the jury couldn"t come to a unanimous decision.

Everyone stood, and rows emptied as people shuffled out of the courtroom. Benjamin held her hand at his side but didn"t look down. She tried to steal a glance at his face, but his body was rigid and his profile stoic. Once in the hall, he led her away from the hustle of people dispersing out the front door into a quieter, less crowded corner. Her heart pounded viciously in her chest. After last night, what would he have to say to her?

He led her around a massive pillar leading down a side hallway, and turned into her, pulling her into his arms. Jewell"s knees gave and she leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his chest. She inhaled the mingled scent of his laundry detergent, his cologne, and the mix of everything that made him Benjamin. His heart thumped hard against his ribs and he held her so tight she couldn"t move.

She didn"t want to.

"I"m sorry," he said against her hair, muffling the sound. "I"m so sorry."

She shook her head against him but didn"t pull back. Benjamin stepped behind the pillar, hiding them completely from curious eyes, and held her tighter until he could bury his face against the side of her throat. Jewell wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding tight as his body shook. Tears burned her eyes and she pressed her eyelids together so tight they hurt.

He broke away and slumped back against the pillar, his knees bent so he was closer to her eye level. His eyes shined, but he restrained whatever raging emotions tore at him. Jewell stroked his cheeks and took his face in her hands, kissing his lips.

He raised his hands to sign in the small space between them. "I knew when I left the suite last night I"d made a mistake. I just couldn"t—" He fisted his hands and pressed his eyes shut, shaking his head in her hold. Without opening his eyes, he continued. "In three days I heard everything he ever thought of me, everything he ever said to me, and I couldn"t…" His hands shook and he opened his eyes, looking at her. "I couldn"t believe you could love me."

Jewell cried the tears she knew he held back. "But, I do love you, Benjamin," she emphasized with a nod. "Don"t ever doubt that."

He nodded. "I know. Now. I know you told me last night, but I didn"t accept it—I didn"t "hear" it," he signed, making a combined sign between actual hearing and comprehension, "until I left you. And when I realized it…you were gone. I thought I"d lost you."

She didn"t want to take her hands from him, so she leaned closer and whispered. "I couldn"t leave you to do this alone when I could be here. I just got a room at the hotel."

Benjamin came forward off the pillar and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her heels with the intensity of the embrace. He hid his face in her hair, against her throat, and she cupped the back of his head, holding him there. His fingers curled into her jacket, his entire body tense with whatever demons had raged against him in the last few days. This was what she"d wanted to be for him last night, but he hadn"t been ready to let it happen. It didn"t matter, he knew now. And she wouldn"t let him ever doubt how much she loved him.

He turned into her neck, his lips kissing softly. Immediately, every part of her zinged with awareness. Benjamin kissed her throat, her jaw, her cheek—tiny, quick touches—until he reached her lips. Jewell opened to him, accepting the—panic?—that drove him, and kissed him so he knew, without any doubt, that she was there for him.

All too soon, Benjamin eased the intensity of the kiss to just a contact of mouth-to-mouth and finally broke away, his fingertips immediately coming to rest on her cheeks and slick lips. Her breath reflected back to her from the touch, and his own rapid breathing filled the space between them.

"Why don"t you get angry with me?" he asked, his gaze skimming her face to try and take in both her eyes and her mouth at the same time.

Jewell blinked, trying to process the rapid switch in topic. "Why don"t I get angry with you?" she repeated.

He nodded. "I"ve been an ass. I"ve taken it out on you. I"ve screwed up. Why don"t you get angry with me when I do?"

Jewell shook her head, the motion making his fingers skim her skin. He smoothed her hair back from her cheek, hooking it behind her ear. "You didn"t need my anger, and it wouldn"t have helped anything."

Benjamin smiled, and the light that reached his eyes made her smile back. "You are amazing, Jewell Kincaid. And I love you."