“I have the file, thank you,” Judge Spencer said. “Mrs. Gilroy, please step down. I’d like to hear from Mr. Hunt now.”
Grace left the witness stand looking distraught, as though she had miserably failed their cause.
Crawford stood up, smoothed down his necktie, and walked to the witness box. Chet swore him in. Crawford sat down and looked at the judge—in the eye, as Moore had coached him to do.
“Mr. Hunt, four years ago some of your behavior brought your ability to be a good parent into question.”
“Which is why I didn’t contest Joe and Grace being awarded temporary custody of Georgia. She was only thirteen months old when Beth died. She needed constant care, which circumstances prevented me from providing. My obligations at work, other issues.”
“Serious other issues.”
That wasn’t a question. He kept his mouth shut.
The judge flipped through several official looking papers and ran her finger down one sheet. “You were arrested and pled guilty to DUI.”
“Once. But I—”
“You were arrested for public indecency and—”
“I was urinating.”
“—assault.”
“It was a bar fight. Everyone who threw a punch was detained. I was released without—”
“I have the file.”
He sat there seething, realizing that his past would devastate his future. Judge Holly Spencer was cutting him no slack. After giving him a long, thoughtful appraisal, she again shuffled through the pages of what she had referred to as his “file.” He wondered how bad it looked with his transgressions spelled out in black and white. If her frown was any indication, not good.
Finally, she said, “You went to all the counseling sessions.”
“Judge Waters made clear that each one was mandatory. All twenty-five of them. I made certain not to miss any.”
“The therapist’s report is comprehensive. According to her, you made remarkable progress.”
“I think so. I know so.”
“I commend your diligence Mr. Hunt, and I admire your commitment to regaining custody of the daughter you obviously love.”
Here it comes, he thought.
“However—”
The door at the back of the courtroom burst open and a figure straight out of a horror movie ran up the center aisle, handgun extended. The first bullet struck the wall behind the witness box, splitting the distance between Crawford and Judge Spencer.
The second one got the bailiff Chet Barker square in the chest.