Page 81 of The Best Lawyer
“I’m not the person I was a few years ago. I was in a really bad place for a really long time. I hurt people. I mean, I hurt their feelings. And I scared people. I’m better now. It’s taken me a very long time but I finally feel like I have my life on track. I have a husband who loves me. You saw that with your own eyes. Do you love her?”
She looked at Eric. “Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
“And that means that you’d do anything to keep her safe in your eyes, doesn’t it? Including using that gun of yours to scare off somebody you thought could do her harm?”
“Yes,” he said before she could barely finish her sentence.
“Okay,” she said. “Then you can maybe understand Leon. That’s all that was. He thinks me talking to you is going to do me harm.”
“But you don’t think so,” I said.
“I hope not,” she answered. “I know Tom Loomis is one of the people I hurt though. I know I scared him and caused him some distress. I feel bad about that now. Especially now. So if you think talking to me could help him in a way, then I think I owe him that. That’s why I’m here. I just couldn’t get Leon to understand it from my point of view. He thinks I’m too fragile. But I’m not.”
“Okay,” I said.
“And you don’t have to try to protect me either. You said you had hard questions. Just ask them. My answers can’t hurt me anymore.”
“I respect that,” I said. “So I’ll get right to it. You know what I’m interested in? You know I represent … or my firm represents Tom’s wife.”
“The one everyone thinks killed him,” she said.
“Do you think so?” Eric asked.
She blinked but didn’t answer his direct question. “I have these,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick accordion file and handed it to Eric. His brow furrowed; he opened it. I leaned over to see what he saw.
She had pages and pages of photocopied journal entries. Dates. Times. Places. It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at. Then it hit me. For nearly a year, she tracked Tom Loomis’s movements. The hours he worked. The stories he put on the air. Where he had lunch. Clippings from news articles mentioning Tom.
“These are old,” Eric said.
“Six and a half years ago,” she said. “And I told you. I wasn’t in a good place then. I thought Tom was something he wasn’t. I created him as this character in my head. Like in a romance novel. When he winked at the camera at the end of his broadcasts, I thought he was winking at me. I know better now.”
“Maisy,” I said. “There are emails from you to Tom as recently as last year. You reached out to him after he moved to Delphi. You knew where he lived.”
She put her head down. “I know. And I know that’s what scared him. I know I wasn’t supposed to do that.”
“We understand Tom’s replacement actually tried to get a protection order against you,” Eric said, waving the folder.
“I’m ashamed of all of it. Last year, I did something stupid and tried to take myself off some medication that I need. Leon switched jobs and for a little bit, we had a gap in our insurance. We couldn’t afford the pills. I tried taking them every other day. It put me off kilter for a while. But the doctor fixed it.”
She took out another stack of papers from her bag and handed them to me. These were printouts of her medical records. She highlighted a few sections detailing her prescription medication. I recognized a few names. Maisy was on a potent combination of anti-depressants.
“Thank you for this,” I said. “And I’m sorry you’ve had to struggle so much.”
“I know Tom isn’t real. I mean, I know my fantasies about him weren’t real. I was projecting this image onto him that fit this narrative in my head. You don’t need to know all my sad stories. And I can’t promise it won’t get bad again. I’m living my life one day, sometimes one hour at a time now. I have good support at home. Leon makes sure I keep my appointments and take my medication the right way. I’m seeing a therapist. I’m in a support group.”
“Those are all really positive things,” I said.
“But it doesn’t answer your big question, does it?”
Eric and I passed a look between us.
“See, Leon thinks you think I killed Tom. Do you? Think I killed him?”
“I think I just wanted to hear your side of things. You can understand why we’d have questions.”
“Sure. Of course. Part of my recovery is holding myself accountable. Admitting my weaknesses. Recognizing the times I need to ask for help. But your big question. The answer is no. I didn’t kill Tom Loomis. I would never ever have hurt him. I know you might have a hard time believing that. So I brought you this.”
Maisy leaned forward and took the medical records back from me. She turned to a tabbed page and handed it back.
