Page 111 of The First Gentleman

Every head in the courtroom swivels around as Felicia comes through the doors and walks down the center aisle. She’s wearing a plain blue dress and her hair is done up in a neat bun. I try to catch her eye, but she just stares straight ahead, biting her lip, looking sad and afraid.

I don’t blame her. What happened to Suzanne is something no mother should ever have to endure, let alone relive. Since Garrett’s murder, sadly, I empathize with her even more than I did when we began our investigation.

As a witness for the prosecution, Felicia hasn’t been allowed in the courtroom until now. I’m grateful that she hasn’t been here to see the photos of her daughter’s remains and burial spot projected on the large screen.

The clerk swears Felicia in. She sits down in the witness stand, then shifts forward in the chair until she’s a few inches from the microphone.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bonanno,” says the deputy attorney general.

“Good morning.” Her voice sounds shaky and nervous and very soft.

The courtroom stills as we all strain to hear her.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. I know you’d rather not be here,” says Bastinelli. “I’ll do my best to finish this as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you,” Felicia says. “And you’re right, I’d rather not be here.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Bastinelli walks over to a side table and picks up a plastic evidence bag. I can see what’s in it. He holds it in front of Felicia.

“Mrs. Bonanno, can you confirm for the jury what this item is?”

Felicia nods. “It’s a tennis bracelet. It belongs… it belonged to my daughter Suzanne.”

“Mrs. Bonanno, I can imagine that your daughter had a lot of jewelry. I know my daughters do. Why do you remember this piece in particular?”

“I remember it because I got it repaired for her.”

“Can you explain that to the jury, please?”

“The clasp got broken,” says Felicia. “A couple weeks before Suzanne…” Her lips are trembling now.

“Take your time,” says Bastinelli.

Judge Dow leans over. “Mrs. Bonanno, I need you to speak up a little.”

Felicia straightens in the chair and clears her throat. “A couple weeks before Suzanne disappeared, she asked me to take the bracelet to a jewelry store because the clasp was broken and she didn’t have time to get it fixed. She was too busy getting ready for her move.”

“And did you get the clasp fixed for her?”

“Yes, I did. I brought it to Manfred Jewelers.”

Bastinelli introduces an exhibit and projects an image of a receipt from the jewelry store in Seabrook, New Hampshire. Digitally circled are the date and notation of a charge for replacing a clasp on a tennis bracelet with red stones.

“Mrs. Bonanno, is that your signature on the receipt?”

“Yes, it is.”

“When Suzanne asked you to get the bracelet repaired, did she tell you how it got broken?”

Here it comes…

“Yes. She told me she got in a fight with her boyfriend and he tore it off her wrist.”

“And who was her boyfriend at the time?” asks Bastinelli.

Felicia looks directly at the defendant before she answers in a confident voice, “It was Cole Wright!”

No problem hearing her now.

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