Part 29 (1/2)

”No, not much. She came pretty regularly when Devon was younger, but her attendance really dropped off as Devon entered middle school. I mean, to the point that I started checking the sidelines while the game was going on to see if she was out there.”

”And why did you do that, Mr. Dougherty?”

”You know, I feel sorry for my players whose parents run their lives-micromanaging their kids' soccer careers or living vicariously through their successes or failures. But I also felt sorry for Devon, who was on the opposite side of the spectrum. n.o.body seemed to be a part of her life, n.o.body seemed to care, at least about her soccer, and yet she pushed herself so hard. Was so hard on herself. Was so driven. And I couldn't see the source of it. It must have been coming from somewhere inside, from a need to prove something to herself.”

”You say that Devon is very hard on herself. What is it like being her coach? Does she take constructive criticism well, for instance?”

”Yes, she does. She's very coachable. Whenever I point out mistakes any of my players make, I also give them ideas of how they can fix them or do things differently. Devon's the kind of player who, when a similar situation pops up again, she'll make the correction. It's almost like she's looking for the opportunity to put the advice into practice.”

”Okay, but when you said Devon's 'hard on herself,' what did you mean, exactly?”

”She hates to make mistakes. She doesn't cut herself any slack. Absolutely none.”

”And how does she demonstrate this lack of 'cutting herself slack'?”

Coach Mark doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, ”She gets very quiet. Very broody. During a game, if she gives up a goal, for example, because she made what she'd perceived as a mistake in judgment or timing, she doesn't seem to allow it to affect her play while the game's on. It just sort of rolls off of her. But afterward, when the game's over, she'll go off by herself. And you get the impression that she doesn't want to be disturbed, that you should just leave her alone for a while.”

”Thank you, Mr. Dougherty.” Dom steps back to her seat. ”I have no further questions.”

Mr. Floyd leaps to his feet.

”I take it, Mr. Floyd,” Judge Saynisch says, ”that the State wants to examine this witness?”

”Yes, Your Honor.”

”Then proceed.”

”Mr. Dougherty,” the prosecutor starts, ”you've spoken very admiringly about the respondent-what leaders.h.i.+p she's demonstrated, what a team player she is. How driven. How smart. How reliable. You've praised her work ethic, but have said nothing of her ethics. Her trustworthiness. Her proclivity to tell the truth. Do you have an opinion to offer on that issue?”

”Yes,” Coach Mark says. ”I've never known Devon to be untrustworthy.”

”Oh?” The prosecutor paces in front of the witness stand. ”So you feel that someone who has deceitfully hidden her pregnancy from everyone around her, has conceived a plot to murder-”

”Objection! Your Honor-”

”No, Ms. Barcellona,” the judge says, ”I'd like to hear Mr. Dougherty's response.”

Coach Mark rubs the back of his neck. ”I don't believe that's been proven yet.”

”Fair enough. Then let's go back for a moment to January of this year, Mr. Dougherty. Did the respondent injure herself during a practice session?”

”Yes, she hit her head on the goalpost and injured her shoulder.”

”And, subsequently, did the respondent tell you that she had visited a doctor who had diagnosed these injuries and outlined a treatment plan?”

”Yes, she did.”

”What did the respondent tell you that diagnosis was?”

”A concussion and a subluxed shoulder.”

”And what did the respondent tell you about the treatment for these injuries?”

Coach Mark takes in a breath. ”Because of the concussion, Devon told me that she wouldn't be able to practice for at least four weeks. And she'd need to visit a physical therapist three times a week, I think it was, for about six weeks for her shoulder.”

”Did the respondent bring you a note from her doctor? A written excuse of some sort?”

”No, but I've been around soccer long enough to know that concussions aren't anything to mess around with. What Devon told me sounded exactly right.”

”What would you say, Mr. Dougherty, if I told you that the respondent's medical files contain no record of a doctor's diagnosis for any injuries during that time period? That there exists no referral for a physical therapist?”

”Then I would say that perhaps Devon's medical files are incomplete.”

”Let me get this straight, Mr. Dougherty. You mean to tell me that you believe these records were somehow misplaced? Or not included?”

”Not at all.” Coach Mark sits forward in his seat. ”What I'm saying is this-in the five years that I've coached Devon, I have never known her to skip practice without a valid reason. In fact, I can't think of a time that she's missed training for any reason. She has come to my practices coughing and sneezing. She's jammed her fingers so badly that she was unable to practice in the goal, but she'd come anyway to work out with the field players or just s.h.a.g b.a.l.l.s, if that's all she could do. I don't need a doctor's excuse, and I don't need medical records. If Devon said she had to miss practice for a couple of weeks, then I believe she had a good reason for it. No matter what explanation she actually gave me.”

”If the respondent had told you that she was pregnant, you would've helped her out. Correct, Mr. Dougherty?”

”Man.” Coach Mark sits back in his seat. He shakes his head slightly. ”If Devon had trusted me enough to confide that fact to me,” he says softly, ”yes. I would've done anything and everything I could think of to help her.”

Devon looks up at him. Their eyes meet.

Devon sees so much hurt there, so much regret.

Still holding Devon's eyes, Coach Mark says, ”I would've told her that I was one hundred percent there for her. She wouldn't have had to try to fix her problem alone.”

Devon feels chills shoot up her spine. She drops her eyes to her lap.

”But she didn't give you that opportunity. Did she, Mr. Dougherty?”

Coach Mark sighs sadly. ”No,” he says, barely audible. ”No, she did not.”

”I have no further questions.”

After Coach Mark leaves the courtroom, Dom leans over, places her hand on top of Devon's, whispers in her ear. ”You doing okay?”

Devon shrugs. She squeezes her eyes shut.

”We can ask for a short break if you need it.”

”No, I'll be okay.”

Dom pats Devon's hand, then stands. ”Your Honor, the Defense calls Ms. Deborah Evans.”

The woman steps up to the front, raises her right hand. When she's seated in the witness stand, she catches Devon's eye. Gives her a small smile.