Splitsville, page 25
Barely an hour later, her final witness took the stand, rubbing his beard pensively. He was still wearing the robe.
“Please state your name.”
His demeanor was calm and placid, projecting a beatific facade. Or to use a different word—saintly. “Adrien Messie.”
“Is that your real name?”
He looked at her contemplatively. “What is real? What is unreal?”
She refrained from making a gagging expression. “Is that the name on your driver’s license?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Is that the name on your tax return?”
“Haven’t filed in years.”
“You’re evading my questions. I want to know if that’s your legal name or one you’ve adopted.”
“All names are adopted. There is no organic connection between a person and the amalgamation of sounds and letters we call names.”
She pressed her hand against her forehead. “Is that the name you were born with?”
“No. I changed my name after I had a religious conversion experience. Like Saul on the road to Damascus. I suddenly realized I was wasting my life. I was being called to do more.”
“And what exactly is it you do?”
“I lead an organization camped outside the city limits.”
“Where exactly?”
“I would prefer not to say.”
She could press him for an answer. But the actual location was just a blip on Google Maps. His evasion would irritate jurors. And make them suspicious. “I gather this is some sort of…compound? For you and your followers?”
He tilted his head slightly. “I call it a settlement.”
“Where you’re holed up with a bunch of other religious fanatics.”
“We are not fanatics.”
“Hermits, then.”
“We maintain our purity by living apart from the world. So much as possible, we remain separate. Building our strength.”
“Like white supremacists? Militia groups?”
“Far from it. My message is one of love, not hate. My message is one of peace, not strife. We don’t allow weapons of any kind.”
His message, he said. Not ours. “What kind of group is this?”
He spread his arms wide. “It’s a church.”
“Your church.”
“Indeed.”
Harrington rose. “Your honor, while this is vaguely intriguing, I see no connection to the murder or the fire. Counsel has presented a long series of distractions, but nothing that—”
“We’ll get there as soon as possible,” Kenzi replied. “Some matters can’t be rushed. I want the jury to completely and fully understand what’s been happening. This man’s testimony impacts every other person involved in this case.”
Judge Foreman pondered a moment, then nodded. “I’ll admit I’m intrigued. I will allow this—but if the relevance isn’t obvious soon, I will hold you accountable.”
“Understood.” She turned her attention back to the witness. “Does your church have a name?”
“Again with the names. Names are just labels. They have no connection to the human beings in my flock. Or their beliefs. They say nothing of the spirit.”
“But you must call yourself something.”
He exhaled heavily. “We call ourselves the New Dawn.”
Nothing pretentious there. “And your settlement is where Michael Breville has been living, correct? Since he took his daughter from her school and disappeared?”
Harrington sprang. “Objection. These questions relate to the divorce, not the murder.”
“Are you sure about that?” Kenzi asked. “Maybe you’d better hear the ending before you judge the play.”
“I’m willing to give counsel some latitude,” Judge Foreman said. “If counsel wastes our time, I’ll consider a motion for sanctions. But I don’t want to shut down testimony that might turn out to be important.”
Thank you, judge. About time you did me a solid. “Please answer the question.”
Messie looked into the gallery. “I’m sorry, Michael, but I’m under oath and, even if I weren’t, I would have to tell the truth. The truth will set you free.”
Actually, this truth might put him in prison, but whatever.
“Michael and Brittany have been living with us, yes.”
“And that’s why you didn’t want to reveal your location. So he could continue hiding.”
“It’s not just that. I prefer…seclusion. Secular influences tend to impair faith. Some distance from this wicked world is always desirable.”
“You admit both men and women to your settlement?”
“Of course. I believe women are beautiful. Sacred.”
Time to spring the trap. “And that’s why Hexitel has a policy of assigning so-called wives, right?”
“I…don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do. Today Hexitel is run by Patricia Clare, but it was founded by a man named Randie Salvador, who left to start a different organization.” She took a step closer. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
Messie paused. He did not answer.
“Please answer the question.”
Harrington intervened, looking as if he’d been pushed to the end of his rope. “Objection. Your honor, I’ve tried to be patient. But this doesn’t even make sense. This man’s name is not Randie Salvador.”
“Ah,” Kenzi replied. “But names aren’t real. They have no connection to the human being. And therefore some people feel they can change them any time they want to. Or need to.”
They judge appeared to be getting the drift. “I will allow this. Overruled. Continue.”
Kenzi got right back in the witness’ face. “Sir, you’re Randie Salvador, aren’t you? Or I should say, that was the name you used at the time that you founded Hexitel. It may not be any more real than your other names.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, then shrugged. “You’re right. I was Randie Salvador.”
“And you founded Hexitel.”
“True. My vision was to create an organization to help women. A sisterhood of strength. All this business with witchcraft and spanking was added later by others. Not me. I wanted executive training. I wanted to give women the tools they need to find their place in the cosmos.”
“Why did you leave Hexitel?”
“As I said, I heard a calling. Other work I needed to do.”
“Were you thrown out?”
“Absolutely not. I didn’t like the negative direction Hexitel was taking. You’ve exposed some of that yourself. Greed. Coercive control. I decided to take a sabbatical.”
“To form your commune in the forest. The New Dawn.”
“Which has been a wonderful experience. The New Dawn is an upgraded and improved Hexitel. Correcting my initial errors. I’m proud to say I’m their shepherd.”
“But you’re more than just their shepherd, right?” She paused for maximum effect. “You’re their savior.”
Messie opened his mouth, then stopped, as if he thought better of it. He fell silent for several more seconds before finally answering. “I told you I had a religious experience. An awakening.”
“But that happened long before the New Dawn, right?” The jury seemed mesmerized, so she kept plugging away. “In fact, that happened long before you started Hexitel, right?”
“Once upon a time, I was a stockbroker, believe it or not. A very successful one. I also inherited some money from my father. We never got along well, but he left me the stake I used to make my initial investments. In just a few years, I made enough money to live well for the rest of my life.”
She believed it. “And where did you live when you were a stockbroker?”
“A small town near Portland.”
Bingo. Hailee was right. She felt sure of it. But she had to keep the excitement out of her voice. Don’t give him any indication where she was going. “And remind me, when did you have your spiritual awakening?”
“About thirty-two years ago.”
She turned slightly to catch Hailee’s eye. Her daughter was nodding.
“And then you stopped working as a stockbroker?”
“God had other plans for me. In a vision, he told me that my old life had come to an end. I would be reborn.”
“As the Architect?”
He paused. “As the Sentinel.”
“I had a good Catholic school education, sir, but I have no idea what that means. Can you explain?”
“It means that it is my job to keep watch. Until the New Dawn rises.”
“And then?”
“And then I will be the leader for the next millennium. The teacher.”
“Jesus 2.0?”
He bowed his head slightly. “If you wish.”
Rustling. Shuffling. Sounds of disquiet. No one could believe what they were hearing—what this man was volunteering. They might not grasp how it related to the murder. But they were spellbound. “You’re the Second Coming.”
“My commission is to create a paradise on earth, a place where true believers can live in peace. That includes all people—but I was given a special mission regarding women.”
“Which would explain why you created Hexitel, a group only for women. What was this special mission?”
“Women feel lost in the modern age. Disconnected. They feel scorned if they are only housewives, mothers. But they have a hard time breaking into the business world. Even with all this talk of #MeToo and breaking glass ceilings, we are not even close to workplace equality. So I created executive training for women who wanted to work, who felt compelled to enter the world of commerce. And I created a system of…wives…to reinforce the domestic life. And unions between the two so all could attain their highest level of fulfillment.”
“Is this the lifestyle you promote in the New Dawn?”
“Yes. We include both genders and we give all people options. Training for women who want to work. Support for men who prefer to remain at home. No sexism. Everyone can be wahtever they wish to be.”
“And that’s working?”
“When you preach the truth, people will find you. Our membership tripled during the coronavirus lockdown. Some saw that as God’s plague sent to root out the wicked. But my flock felt safe living outside the mainstream with me.”
“I’d like to know more about this conversion experience you had. What were your instructions?”
“I was told to leave everything I had behind. To sever all connections to my past life and build a new one.”
“And would that include…severing yourself from your family?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Children?”
“If necessary.”
“And it was, wasn’t it?”
He stared at her and, all at once, his eyes seemed to burn brighter, as if lit from behind.
But he did not answer.
“Your honor, I will ask the court to take judicial notice of three published news accounts relating to a tragedy that occurred over thirty-two years ago. Involving a man named Darien Christos. For reasons no one was able to discern at the time, the father of a large prosperous family—a stockbroker—in a small town near Portland, in a single night killed first his wife then his children. With a shovel. He buried the bodies, poured concrete over the grave, and disappeared. Despite years of effort, the police have never been able to track him down.”
The jurors looked at one another, horrified.
“Only one child escaped. A girl, barely a toddler. Somehow she found her way to another house in a nearby neighborhood. She survived and was later adopted. But she was too young to help the police much.”
The judge raised an eyebrow. “And the significance?”
“I don’t blame you for being confused, your honor. I was at first too. But my ace investigator put it all together. Maya was adopted in Portland many years ago, something she only recently mentioned to me. After I heard that, I asked my crack research team to investigate the adoption and major news events occurring at that time in that area. And this is what we found.”
Kenzi turned toward the jury. “That little girl who survived was my client. After adoption, her name became Maya Hanover. After she married, Maya Breville.” She turned back to the witness. “And that man who killed his family was you, Mr. Messie. Jesus 2.0. You murdered your wife and kids. Then disappeared.”
All eyes were on the witness stand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why did you do it? Family life too hard for you? Or was this demanded by your divine calling?”
Messie turned toward the judge. “Do I have to sit here and listen to someone accuse me of murder? I know she’s desperate to help her client, but—”
Kenzi cut him off. “After the murders, you disappeared, understandably, till you could rise again with a new name and a new look. Following your messianic quest, you started Hexitel. You were successfully building it into a profitable outfit. And then Maya showed up. Even though she was young when you tried to kill her, a few photos of her father existed and you worried that it was remotely possible she might recognize you. So you left Hexitel and started yet another group. Deep in the forest. Far from Maya or anyone else. Grew a beard and let your hair grow long to change your appearance. And you reached out to Michael, who you probably knew from your constant surveillance needed a place to stay. Even though you couldn’t get near Maya, that would allow you to see your granddaughter. That’s why you disappeared the day of the settlement conference as soon as Maya arrived. You didn’t want her to see you.”
“That’s…that’s not what happened.”
Kenzi continued. “You come to this courtroom, but always sit in the far back, out of Maya’s sight.”
“I have no reason to hide—”
“Hexitel has thrived under Patricia Clare’s leadership. To use her own words, she built an army. When you realized how large and successful Hexitel was now, you wanted back in. Combining the two groups you founded could jumpstart your ministry in a big way. But reemerging wouldn’t be safe for you—unless Maya was eliminated.”
“You’re…just…inventing...”
“I don’t think you were worried about law enforcement. They gaveu up on your case years ago. I don’t think you had many friends or co-workers in your stockbroker days. And after the murders, no family. The only threat to your freedom was Maya.”
“This—This is exactly why we left the city. Opportunists like you will stop at nothing to crush people of faith be—”
She ignored him. “You murdered your family. But as always seems to happen with people like you, since you got away with it once, the irresistible urge returned. You used the keys Michael gave you to break into LORE, strangle Maggie Price, and set the fire. You got the chemicals and wire from Maya’s car, which explains the fingerprint. You were the skinny long-haired figure Atherton saw running across the lawn. You induced Michael to make up those lies about Maya’s so-called quest and the workplace theft to cover your plans. Michael told you Maggie Price had fired Maya, so you knew the fire and murder would be blamed on her. You wanted Maya out of the way so you could safely continue building your ministry.” She paused. “With your granddaughter.”
The buzz in the gallery was loud and growing. The judge slammed his gavel several times, trying to maintain order.
Kenzi ignored the tumult. “Admit it. Everything I’ve said is true. You executed your wife and children.”
“I don’t know this…Darien...”
“Because he had a different name? Names are just labels.”
“I did not commit this crime. I—”
“Here’s what I think is interesting.” Kenzi took a cheat sheet from Emma. “We have three names here. Adrien Messie. That’s you. Randie Salvador, the Hexitel co-founder. And Darien Christos, the mass murderer. Am I the only one seeing the pattern?” She walked to the chalkboard and scribbled the names. “Here I have to thank my partner, who is a Scrabble ace and great with anagrams. Guess what? All three of those first names are anagrams of one another. Adrien. Randie. Darien. All the same letters, rearranged. You probably thought you were being really clever, didn’t you?”
The witness did not answer. And the DA didn’t interrupt.
She continued. “I bet none of them is your birth name. Christos is Greek for Christ, meaning savior. Salvador is Spanish for savior. And Messie, in many Eastern European languages, means messiah.”
The stir in the gallery rose. Maya looked stunned, her lips parted in disbelief.
“You’re all three of these men, aren’t you? They’re all reinventions of your murderous messianic persona.” She stepped closer, leaning over him, refusing to let his eyes escape hers. “Admit it. You killed your own family. And Maggie Price. You’re a murderer of the worst sort—the kind who hides behind God to justify his twisted arrogant actions.”
He stared up at her. “I didn’t…I acted on instructions from God.”
“Instructions only you heard.”
“People have always persecuted the prophets. The powers-that-be always want to eradicate the sentinels.”
“Get over yourself. You’re a murderer. You probably couldn’t handle family life, so your psychologically messed-up mind fabricated holy orders. You hid your money and made travel plans before you executed your family—all signs of premeditation.”
He rose slightly out of his chair. “I am a man of God!”
Kenzi’s voice soared. “Who killed his own family. And tried to kill the only child who got away!”
“No, I—I—”
“Your own daughter. Your own flesh and blood.”
“No…”
“What kind of monster would hurt his own daughter?”
“No!” He stood, reaching out his arms. “I never wanted to hurt Annalise. I—”
He froze. His eyes widened.
Kenzi’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. “And how did you know the birth name of the little girl who escaped was Annalise?” She walked to the jury box. “I never said it. And you claimed you’d never heard of this case before.”
“I didn’t—I mean, I wouldn’t. I—I—”
“Man of God. Jesus 2.0.” She made a snorting noise. “You’re a wife murderer. A baby killer. The worst excuse for a human being who ever walked the face of the earth. And guilty as sin, unless you’re completely insane. Which would not surprise me at all.”
