Chapter 8 - The Indictment
The formal announcement came twenty-four hours later, in the briefing room of the Cook County State's Attorney’s Office.
The television screen in Evelyn Cross’s conference room showed the Assistant State's Attorney standing behind a wooden podium surrounded by microphones, flanked by Detective Marcus Miller and the Chief of the Special Victims Division.
BREAKING NEWS: GRAND JURY RETURNS TRUE BILL IN OAKRIDGE INFANT POISONING CASE
— Judith Caldwell, 62, Indicted on Two Counts of Aggravated Battery to a Child
— Secondary Indictment: Reckless Conduct Causing Permanent Bodily Harm
— Bail Set at $500,000 Cash; Surrender of Passport Ordered
"The evidence presented to the grand jury demonstrated a reckless and deliberate disregard for human life," the prosecutor announced into the bank of microphones. "The defendant, possessing advanced education and full knowledge of the hazardous nature of prescription dental anesthetics, repeatedly administered a toxic compound to a seven-day-old newborn infant for the sole purpose of chemical sedation during private social gatherings. The state will seek the maximum statutory penalty under the law."
A reporter shouted from the front row: "Is the father facing criminal charges?"
The prosecutor paused, his eyes scanning his notes.
"The father, Ryan Caldwell, has entered into a formal cooperation agreement with the state. He has provided sworn testimony regarding the prior administration of the compound and has agreed to testify as a material witness for the prosecution during the upcoming criminal trial."
I hit the red button on the remote control.
The screen flickered black, reflecting the quiet, sun-drenched conference room where Lily slept soundly in her car seat beside my chair, wrapped in a soft yellow blanket decorated with little embroidered bumblebees.
"He sold his mother to save his law license," I whispered, looking at the silent screen.
"He didn't save his license, Nora," Evelyn Cross said, sliding a fresh memorandum across the mahogany table. "The Illinois Attorney Registration and Disciplinary Commission suspended Ryan’s credentials yesterday afternoon, pending the resolution of the family court proceedings. Arthur Vance has removed him from the firm's website. His email address has been deactivated."
She opened the family court file.
"The shelter care hearing was concluded an hour ago by emergency stipulation," Evelyn continued, her voice soft now, filled with that deep, maternal satisfaction that comes from an absolute victory. "Judge Thornton signed the permanent decree. You have sole legal custody. You have sole physical custody. Ryan has been granted one hour of supervised visitation per month at the county social service center, with the requirement that he complete forty-eight weeks of parenting classes and a psychiatric evaluation before any expansion can be considered."
"And the house?" I asked.
"The townhouse is yours," Evelyn said. "Free and clear of all marital liens. The judge ordered the immediate transfer of the deed to satisfy your personal injury claims against the marital estate. Ryan has been given forty-eight hours to remove his remaining clothing from the storage locker in the basement under police supervision."
I reached down, my fingers gently brushing against Lily’s forehead.
She was two weeks old now. Her cheeks had filled out; she weighed eight pounds, four ounces, and her skin was the smooth, radiant pink of a summer peach. She stretched her tiny arms, yawning with that funny, squeaky little sound that always made my heart turn over, then burrowed deeper into the yellow fleece.
"It's over," I said.
"The defense will try to drag out the criminal proceedings for another six months," Evelyn said, closing the thick binders with a solid, definitive thud. "Arthur Vance will file five different motions to suppress the medical records, and Judith will hire three different clinical experts to testify that benzocaine toxicity is an unpredictable idiosyncratic reaction. But it doesn't matter, Nora."
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Evelyn walked around the desk, resting both hands on the handle of Lily’s car seat, looking down at the sleeping child.
"The paper trail is ironclad. The doctor who was there was Lily’s pediatrician. The blood was chocolate brown, and the state has the tube. Judith Caldwell is going to Dwight Correctional Center, and there isn't a country club in this state that can write a check big enough to open those gates."
