Reeves swung back to the jury. “Under our criminal code, all abortions are illegal unless necessary to prevent a serious health risk to the unborn child’s mother. The defendant in this case acted incomplete disregard of the Alabama Human Life Protection Act. And the girl, Miss Nova Jones, that the defendant performed the felonious, illegal procedure upon? She was thirteen, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Thirteen! That abortion, it could have killed her.”
She saw Ben Meyers scribble on his legal pad.13 y/o! PG could’ve killed her
He wrote two more words and underlined them.
Reasonable Doubt
CHAPTER
61
Mary Stone
BULLOCK COUNTY COURTHOUSE UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
We hadn’t made it through the first morning of testimony, and I’d already grown uneasy about the unrest I sensed in my courtroom.
The spectators were reactionary, volatile. I’d never presided over a courtroom with so much emotional energy. Had never seen it as charged up like that, as a lawyer or a judge. It worried me. I could not—must not—permit the courtroom to spin out of control.
When I broke for a short recess following opening statements, Benjamin Meyers informed me that a woman went after Bria Gaines in the restroom, took a red marker to her wrist while Bria was washing her hands. Well, I wasn’t putting up with that. I talkedto my clerk; Luna would have to accompany the defendant into the restroom during recess. I’d called the sheriff’s office first and told Owens about it, but the sheriff said he didn’t have a woman to spare, that his staffing was already stretched from the demands of the trial.
The prosecution had started off with medical evidence. The DA was questioning the ER doctor who’d treated Nova Jones. “Dr. Thompson, what did you observe regarding Miss Jones’s condition?”
The witness tugged at his collar, which was too tight for his neck. I could hardly believe that the DA had managed to convince Ron Thompson to wear a suit and tie. He was almost seventy, counting down to retirement, and unapologetically committed to comfort waistbands in his king-size attire.
Dr. Thompson had worked at our shabby hospital for decades. When Bria Gaines came to town, it had felt like progress in our community. People had the option to seek care from a young Black woman rather than an elderly white man. A sizable number of his patients left Thompson for Dr. Gaines’s clinic, and he’d cut his hours back as a result, leaving the community with less care. He wasn’t a bad doctor, but his passion for the profession had fizzled decades prior.
Thompson said, “The patient was in distress, exhibiting signs of extreme discomfort. She had heavy bleeding from the uterus and blood clots. The attending ER nurse had told me that the girl was miscarrying a pregnancy, but—”
Benjamin Meyers was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Hearsay.”
“Sustained.” If the DA wanted the jury to hear what the ER nurse thought or said, they would need to swear her in and put her on the witness stand.
I heard sounds of disapproval from the spectators. My eyes scanned the gallery as I cut them a sharp look. It silenced them.
Reeves said, “Doctor, based upon your education, training, and experience, do you have an opinion as to the cause of Nova Jones’s condition on that date?”
“I do.”
“What is that opinion?”
“She’d had an abortion. Suction curettage—also known as vacuum aspiration. Probably at the end of her first trimester. There are medical risks with the procedure. The bleeding and clots were related to that. And she’d developed a pelvic bacterial infection—not severe, at that point. I treated it with oral antibiotics.”
Reeves had strolled over to the jury box. He was leaning against the wooden railing on the far corner of the enclosure. “In your opinion, Doctor, was Nova Jones’s pelvic infection caused by the abortion that had been performed by the defendant?”
Meyers on his feet again. “Objection, Your Honor! Calls for speculation, assumes facts not in evidence.”
Meyers was right. They hadn’t yet put on a witness to testify that Nova’s abortion was performed by Bria Gaines.
Reeves waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll tie it up later, Judge.”
He would, I knew that. But the DA had to play by the rules in my court. “Objection sustained.”
An unpopular ruling. The heated murmurs circulated again, rising like a stench in the spectators’ section. I tapped the gavel. Shook my head at the gallery, giving them a baleful look, one they couldn’t mistake.
The DA knew he had a cheering section out there. He glanced over at them before asking his next direct examination question. “Doctor, what are the medical risks and possible complications of abortion?”
“Objection! Irrelevant, prejudicial—”
