Chapter 4: Shana's Testimony

Clayton liked FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth the minute he saw him.

And it wasn't just because the man took one look at the stars and braid and said, "Good afternoon, Major General," and saluted right after the woman had introduced herself as Dr. Temperance Brennan, the forensic anthropologist.

"Just call me Clayton," Clayton grinned as he saluted back.

The slender brown-haired woman next to Booth objected. "But Booth, that would be inappropriate given the fact that Major General Clayton Abernathy is clearly a person of high rank and still on active duty and you are no longer in the military—"

She stopped because Booth had laid a hand on her arm. "Bones. Let me handle this, huh?"

Clayton grinned at them both. Booth wore an air of amused, resigned exasperation, as if he were used to conversations like this one on a daily basis; he reminded Clayton somewhat of Dash's exasperation when Allie tried to correct him on something he did. The thought made his grin wider as he sat at the table with Abbie.

"General Abernathy—Clayton—has concerns about his people's safety while testifying during the course of this trial. I was wondering if this is a valid concern and what we might be able to do about it." Abbie didn't waste words on pleasantries; she was very direct.

"Kennedy is very, very rich. And he's pissed. And in my experience when rich powerful men get pissed off people start dying. Those are my soldiers testifying in that trial. They have been through more than any two people should have to go through in a lifetime and I'd like to make sure they come out of this alive. So you understand my concern."

Booth nodded. "I understand your concerns. I doubt anything can get them in here, but they are vulnerable coming to and from the courthouse."

"This is a very paranoid way of thinking," Brennan said.

"Our lives are dangerous. Dr. Brennan, the work we do is dangerous and paranoia will keep us alive in combat and special mission situations. Admittedly, yes, this is paranoid thinking in the middle of New York City during a highly-publicized trial, but my peoples' safety during this fiasco is my responsibility and I would rather be considered paranoid than to find out later that I should have been worried and wasn't."

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." Booth nodded.

"In transit isn't a problem, the vehicle in which those testifying is traveling—that big Hummer out there—has special modifications done on it by my garage crew that virtually turns it into a small tank. No one will be able to get them inside it. It's that brief moment of vulnerability between getting out of the vehicle and getting into the courtroom."

"We can have armed observers on the rooftop of the building scanning the crowd, but I think your concern is rather more for the possibility of long range weapons fire?" Booth's eyes narrowed as he considered the possibility. "As a former Ranger sniper myself, I can see the opportunity."

Clayton nodded; he'd already guessed that Booth had some military experience from the way he walked, looked, talked. "I plan on giving my soldiers leave to come into the city if they are off for the duration of the trial, to form the same kind of 'honor guard' that we displayed this morning. If my duties permit it, I will be here as much as possible also. Every one of my soldiers has been trained to the limits of their physical capacity in hand-to hand, and Master Sergeant O'Hara is herself lethal without even needing to resort to the use of weapons. The same with Master Sergeant Snake Eyes, her fiancé."

"The soldier who walked in as soon as recess was called and she leaned on?"

Clayton nodded. "They're both martial arts masters and are fully capable of killing with their bare hands if need be. I'm not worried about a ground assault. But my other soldier, Corporal Arlington is in very fragile physical condition right now and is vulnerable as a result. Master Sergeant O'Hara is perfectly capable of defending herself and Corporal Arlington if need be, and Corporal Arlington is also married to Specialist Ironknife, so there's the extra bond there, but none of those skills and that determination can stand against a sniper's bullet that they'll never even see coming."

Booth was busy thinking. "Helicopter in the air. Sniper on the rooftop covering the ground below. We can scout out the likeliest positions from which a hidden sniper might be able to strike and put eyes on each of those roofs, then step up security on the ground leading into those buildings. And, you know, since Master Sergeant O'Hara has active FBI clearance, she is allowed to wear a weapon. The soldiers can't, however. Sorry. But she could if she wanted to."

"I'll let her know," Clayton said. "Not that she isn't perfectly lethal with her bare hands, but it might help her peace of mind."

"I'll alert courthouse security that if she does have a weapon to let her pass," Abbie said briskly as she got up from the table. "All right, shall we get back to the courtroom?"

Shana was composed as she returned to the witness stand, but the judge seemed sympathetic nevertheless. "Master Sergeant, we understand this must be difficult, and the court is not unsympathetic. If you feel at any point that you need a break simply tell us." Shana nodded gratefully.

The afternoon testimony was even harder than the morning's. Shana picked up where she left off, telling them what had happened after Cam had passed out from the whipping Shana had been forced to give her friend. She spoke softly, but her words were clear in the deathly-silent courtroom as she described being injected with massive doses of Oxytocin and Anafranil, about the drugs making her 'willing' for Damien Kennedy. Shana didn't remember much of the rest of that night, had no idea what she'd done, but her next clear recollection had been Cam, coming in the next morning and told to pleasure Shana until the overdose of drugs wore off.

Remembering how Cam's voice went flat, detached, when she spoke of her past, as if it were something that happened to someone else and not herself, helped Shana get through the rest of the afternoon. Most of the rest of her own testimony was in that flat voice, as she described Rosa and Damien separating Cam and Shana, Shana then waking up to find herself on blankets, offered food, and a bath—and her voice went flat again as she described Kennedy nearly drowning her in the bathtub until she agreed to use the name he'd given her. "Testarossa," she said now. "My red hair, and my physical uniqueness in the slave market—he called me Testarossa."

Abbie interrupted here. "Prosecution is admitting into evidence as Exhibit C the brochure from that exclusive auction. While the picture is of an actual Ferarri Testarossa, the name itself literally translates to 'red head'. And then when you read the description of the 'car' up for auction, the clues are there." She started to read it aloud, more to give Shana time to scrub at her eyes with a tissue and try to compose herself. "Up for auction; vintage Testarossa, in excellent condition, responsive, all original parts. Strong and has a mind of her own, can be difficult to handle but will be a priceless acquisition for the right owner. Some patience is needed to tame the Testarossa and break it in, but results will be well worth it as this is the most unique offering to pass through our market in a very long time." Abbie looked up."The brochure is clearly referring to Master Sergeant O'Hara. For those who may be unfamiliar with an actual auto auction, the auction would have listed a lot number, vehicle identification number, manufacturer's date, vehicle mileage, horsepower, car history including former owners, and other information one would need to have to purchase a car. You can see the lack of that information in the brochure. 'All original parts' indicates that she has no artificial limbs or plastic surgery enhancements; 'strong' and 'mind of her own' and 'difficult to handle' indicates that this is not a wiling slave, that she has been forced into the underworld, hence the reference to 'breaking her in'. You can see from this, which was found in Damien's office, that he clearly knew she was an unwilling slave but still made the trip to Amsterdam to see her for himself—and eventually bought her."

Shana resumed her testimony, calmer now. "They split us up for two days—Damien was aware that Cam and I knew each other rather better than our cover story, that we'd grown up together in New York, indicated. Throughout our captivity he interrogated me constantly trying to find out what our connection was. I didn't tell him because I knew the moment he found out we were both Army officers he would kill us; and Cam didn't tell him because—although I didn't know this until later—that the GPS chip implanted just behind her ear meant rescue was going to be able to track her and find us. He finally got annoyed with my refusal to answer his question and dragged me out onto the fishing platform on the north face of the island to watch Rosa throw Cam over—she tied a weight to Cam's ankles and a rope to her wrists and then pushed her off the platform into the ocean. The weight dragged Cam beneath the water and she couldn't come up until Rosa turned the winch to bring her back up. And he asked me how we knew each other several times, until the last time he told me he wouldn't bring her back up, he'd let her drown, if I didn't tell him. So I…I told him a half-truth; we were humanitarian workers on a mission in Africa when we were captured by slavers. Separately. And we reached the market separately, but that was how we knew each other. He brought her back up and she wasn't breathing…she wasn't conscious…and Rosa brought her up, then sent her into freefall until just before Cam hit the water. The sudden stop dislocated Cam's shoulders. She screamed…oh God…"

She took a deep breath and looked up, her eyes suddenly hard. "I don't think I've mentioned this yet—he doesn't need that wheelchair he's sitting in. He walked just fine all over that damn island. His legs worked well enough to stand in order to watch while his guards and hirelings threw Cam over the cliff. He's not paralyzed from the waist down."

Abbie interrupted again. "Prosecution is admitting into evidence Exhibit D. Once the GPS chip that Corporal Arlington was wearing stopped moving somewhere in the Fijian Island chain, a small reconnaissance team composed of Staff Sergeant Alison Hart-Burnett and Sergeant First Class Conrad Hauser went to Fiji posing as research students. They had an experimental miniature aerial surveillance drone with them, which captured this video footage." She cued up the white vidscreen, the bailiff by the door dimmed the lights, and in silence the jury and the spectators watched as Rosa threw Cam off the platform once, twice, as Damien, standing on his own two feet, spoke to Shana. There was no audio, not from this high up, but everyone could see the garish, indecent maid outfit, could see Shana refusing something, shaking her head, saw Shana finally hang her head, defeated, say something to him, and then saw Rosa bringing Cam up, unconscious—and dropping her again with enough force to dislocate her arms. Cam threw her head back to scream, and no one could miss the unmistakable look of agony on her face.

When the lights came back up some of the jurors looked pale and shaken, and one stared at Kennedy with outright loathing. Clayton noted that with satisfaction; he was pretty sure that that particular juror, at least, was convinced of Kennedy's guilt and wouldn't hesitate to find him guilty. There were a couple of other s who looked just as uneasy; good.

Shana continued with her story, voice flat. "When we both woke back up Cam finally told me about the GPS chip she had, and that it would bring our unit to rescue us. She hadn't told me that before because she was worried what I might say about it while Damien and Rosa were pumping me full of drugs, but she said she couldn't keep it a secret anymore because she didn't think she was going to survive. I…" a hard swallow, a glint of tears. "I got mad at her. As her commanding officer, she's supposed to tell me about those things; were technically in a POW type situation and I needed to know all information so I could make decisions…and I yelled at her, got angry with her. Kennedy heard us talking, heard me use her last name only, and deduced that I hadn't been entirely truthful and he wanted the truth, once and for all. He…he crucified me. Tied me down and nailed my wrists to the crosspiece…here…" She pulled up the sleeves of her jacket, eyes blinded by tears, and showed the jurors the dark red scars left by the nails puncturing her arms. "It…hurt…" she tried to hold back her sobs, but couldn't now. "It hurt…and he just left me. For a long time, and there was just so much pain…he came back a very long time later, asked me again, but I was in so much pain I couldn't answer him—my mind just blanked out, I couldn't even remember what it was I wasn't supposed to tell him. He brought over this container with bees in it, grabbed one in a pair of tweezers, got it angry and held it next to my skin so it would sting me. He used a lot of bees, all over me, and then when he pulled the cross back upright…the pain was so bad that I don't remember anything until I woke up back at base."

Abbie said quietly, "You'll hear testimony from the first-responder military EMT who stabilized Master Sergeant O'Hara and Corporal Arlington at the scene what their injuries were and how long it was likely that Master Sergeant O'Hara was left nailed to the cross. I can tell you that his medical opinion is if they had been a day later neither woman would be here talking to us about their experiences."

Mutters from the jury box, and those definitely were some anger and loathing-filled glances sent Kennedy's way from jurors. Clayton even saw Kennedy's defense lawyer looking slightly shaken. What, you client didn't tell you what he really did? If you're surprised at this, what else did he not tell you about?

However, the defense attorney looked calm and unruffled when he rose from his seat. "Master Sergeant O'Hara, I'm sorry for what happened to you, and Clayton noted the ring of sincerity in the man's voice. "But I have a couple of questions. Did you know who my client was when you were purchased at the slave market?"

"Not at the time."

"But you knew my client from before all this happened. You're one of the famous Atlanta O'Haras, the youngest daughter of their five children, the brilliant lawyer with the promising career who gave it all up to go play soldier. But because of those family connections, you knew my client."

"We had met before but—"

"You had, according to several photos of prior events my client visited, attended several events in Atlanta to which my client was invited. The first time you met him was fourteen years ago, at an event hosted by the Atlanta District Attorney's office, a business mixer. My client has a photo of you in a low-cut, dare I say rather provocative, black dress." A picture came up on the viewscreen; Shana in a black strapless short sheath, a generous but not immodest (at least not to Clayton's viewpoint) amount of cleavage showing above the bustline of the dress. Wow, she looks good there. How old was she? Like, twenty?

"And then you met him again at a function in Atlanta honoring active-serving military—you were, at this time, a Private." Another picture, this time of Shana a bit older in dress blues, looking smart and confident, saluting an older man in military dress blues…and beside the man was a younger, smiling Damien Kennedy. "And then again, a few years later at the Governor's ball. You brought another soldier with you, someone from Fort Benning to which you were assigned at the time, but he spent very little of the evening at your side and seemed simply to wish he were not there altogether. Leaving you free to flirt with my client, as is seen on this photo." Shana saw herself laughing, standing in a circle of people, nursing a wineglass, and on the far right of the picture Kennedy sat in his wheelchair. It was the same event from which she had a picture taken by Conrad (she was wearing the same dress); but this photo had to have been taken by someone else because in the background she could see Siobhan trying to flirt with Duke and failing. Miserably. Duke had a slightly-pained expression that would have made Shana laugh if this hadn't been such a serious matter.

"So you've met my client on three occasions prior to this, yet you claim not to have recognized him at the slave market. It would be reasonable to assume, I suppose, that it may not have been my client who purchased you and Corporal Arlington at the market, that it was in fact someone claiming to be him?"

"No, it is not possible. The man sitting at that table next to you is the one who bought Cam and I at the slave market in Amsterdam. I didn't recognize him because I didn't remember having met him before."

"But that's impossible that you did not recognize him since you have taken care to appear at every Atlanta social function possible between assignments and while on leave. My client contends that he has met you before, you recognized him, and have been trying to flirt and seduce him into marriage with you once you leave the military. Having failed on these prior attempts, you are now resorting to trumped-up legal charges to force him to marry you."

"I don't attend those functions to find someone to get married to!" Shana said hotly, her face flushed and her green eyes snapping in anger. "And it would certainly not be your client!"

But the defense attorney was already sitting. "No further questions, Your Honor."