Review: "The Verdict" by Kate William (created by Francine Pascal)

The Verdict by Kate William (created by Francine Pascal)
Published 1993
★★★

Who ever would have expected it...? The golden girl of Sweet Valley is on trial—for manslaughter. (Note that this review contains spoilers for a decades-old book; you have been warned. Also, it's wicked long. You have been warned again.)

I'm deep into this miniseries reread, and nothing makes sense anymore. Well, actually, a couple of things do make more sense—I've read enough other reviews to learn that yes, the ill-fated Jungle Prom was covered in another book, just not one from the main series. I've also, unfortunately, read enough other reviews to have some sympathy for Jessica, sociopathic as she is; an argument can be made that she's traumatized and devastated by both grief and guilt and lashing out and really does not have anywhere near the support she needs. There's also an argument to be made that when she talks about what Elizabeth deserves, she's projecting—talking about herself. "You know, I never did understand what you saw in Elizabeth," she chattered on. "I mean, even before she started wrecking people's lives and killing people, she wasn't exactly a prize. Everyone always thought she was so sweet and good, but I knew her—I knew the real Elizabeth. And she's cold and selfish and conniving. She uses people to get what she wants and then twists it around to make it look like she was doing them a favor." (126)

Oh man. Now I want to write a paper. It's probably just as well that I'm not in grad school anymore and can't torture my classmates with this sort of thing.

But also...do remember that she spiked Elizabeth's drink at the dance, which is why Elizabeth was driving drunk when Jessica's boyfriend Sam was killed; nobody else knows this, and Jessica is willing to see Elizabeth go to jail for it.

"You know, the way everyone's acting," she remarked after a while, "you'd think they felt sorry for Elizabeth, like she didn't even do anything—like she's the victim instead of the criminal."

"She's not a criminal," Todd snapped.

Jessica stared at him. "You're not coming to her defense, are you?"

Todd looked down at his right hand, which had tightened into a fist, crumbling the cookie he held. "I. . . no, I just—"

"Because she wouldn't appreciate it, Todd—take my word for it." Jessica's voice grew cool. "And I don't appreciate it, either. It makes me feel like, like—" Suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears. "Like you don't care about what I'm going through." A sob caught in her throat and she ducked her chin, hiding behind a curtain of hair so the kids at nearby tables couldn't see her crying. "I thought—I thought you were on my side now."

Todd put a hand on Jessica's arm. "Of course I'm on your side," he said quietly. "But that doesn't have to mean . . ."

He didn't finish the sentence, but it was easy to guess what he'd been planning to say. "Yes, it does," Jessica said, her voice quavering with intensity. "You can't have it both ways, Todd. You can't be on her side and also on mine. You have to choose, and you did choose," she reminded him. She placed her hand on top of his and smiled up at him, her eyes still sparkling with tears. "Right?" (23)

Back to the A plot. The expensive lawyer Ned Wakefield hires to defend Elizabeth basically gives up when Elizabeth says that she doesn't know how she got drunk...so Ned decides to take on the case himself. With only, apparently, his undergraduate-student-of-a-son as legal support. Never mind that there's no indication that Ned has ever practiced criminal law. Never mind that his son doesn't practice any kind of law. There's nothing a Wakefield can't do!

Now, the expensive lawyer's strategy was to get frustrated when Elizabeth can't remember anything, and give up. Ned's strategy is...to get frustrated when Elizabeth can't remember anything, and get increasingly grim about the outcome. Here are some things Neddy boy doesn't do: he doesn't seek out potential witnesses from the dance who might have seen Elizabeth and Sam drinking (orrrr seen their drinks being spiked). He doesn't find some sort of investigator or expert to examine tire tracks to figure out whether there might have been another car. He doesn't have the Jeep Elizabeth was driving examined to see if there are clues (or excuses) there. He doesn't do a single thing that a semicompetent lawyer (or, for that matter, police officer, but we all know the Sweet Valley police are beside the point here) might think of to defend his daughter...except tell her to try harder to remember.

(Have I mentioned that it's been a bare few weeks since the accident, and Elizabeth is already going to trial? Aside from the unusually fast justice system in Sweet Valley, Ned also doesn't try to buy more time.)

Regardless, the trial takes place. Lizzie's in trouble because Ned's only strategy is to hope she remembers something that will save her. But wait! A surprise witness! One who claims total responsibility! (And who sobs with apology for Elizabeth and Ned...but not for, say, the parents of Sam, who is dead.) Instant freedom for Lizzie, with only a slap on the wrist for intoxication. (Guys, I don't think this is...how it works? Like, she was still involved in a deadly car crash, and still intoxicated, and Jessica has remained mum about the whole reason Elizabeth was intoxicated—so there's no reason for the judge to think that Elizabeth didn't get smashed, get in a car, smash said car up of her own volition.)

The surprise witness is called Gilbert Harding, by the way, and I'm only noting that because he has never shown up before, as far as I know never shows up again, and makes for a very convenient scapegoat here.

Meanwhile, we have B plots: there's Jessica's continued pursuit of Todd (and Todd's continued idiocy); there's the way everyone still thinks that Bruce's love interest is a tramp ("Why should you be sorry?" Jessica asked Amy. "Pamela's a tramp and that's all there is to it." (56)) and the shock that Lila, of all people, is the one to defend Pamela. There's Lila meeting her mother after fourteen years. And of course there's Margo.

Here's Todd and Jessica:

Abruptly, the song he and Jessica were dancing to faded into something new. The tempo downshifted; the beat became pulsing and slow. Jessica's eyes locked onto Todd's and she drew closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her body swaying seductively.

Any illusions Todd might have had about this being a harmless, platonic evening flew out the window. He was holding Jessica in his arms—the moment couldn't be more romantic. And the worst part was he was enjoying himself. This wasn't playtime; this wasn't "therapy."

My God, how can we be doing this? he wondered as Jessica raised her face to his, her eyes glowing as soft and bright as the stars overhead. Tonight of all nights? Todd's feet faltered and even though Jessica's body was warm against his, he shuddered as if from a sudden chill. We might as well be dancing on Sam's grave, he realized. And Elizabeth . . .

"Kiss me," Jessica whispered, her arms tightening around him.

Obediently, Todd bent his head, pressing his lips lightly against hers. He intended the kiss to be brief, but somehow he found his mouth lingering on Jessica's. The slow passion of the music seemed to hold them together, melding their bodies into one. The kiss grew deeper, and longer. . . . Finally, Todd abandoned himself to it. The kiss was tangible and real, something they both could feel and understand—something to hold on to in all the heartbreaking confusion that swirled around them. (29)

Now...I get that they are hormonal teenagers who have been going through the wringer. But don't let's forget that Jessica is throwing herself at Todd to punish Elizabeth for drunk driving; don't let's forget that Todd, who professes to love Elizabeth and want to be back in her good graces, hasn't so much as reached out to Elizabeth to see how she's doing. Todd's bright ideas: first, run to Elizabeth and Jessica's brother and tell him that he's been cheating on Elizabeth with her twin but wants Elizabeth back:

"So, what do you think I should I do?" Todd asked. "Do you think there's any hope? Do you think Elizabeth would ever take me back?"

"I really don't know," Steven admitted. "You say you love her, but is there any reason she should believe you?" (54)

And second, he writes Elizabeth a (presumably dramatic) letter asking her to forgive him. This is not a bad idea in and of itself—it gives her time to think it over, as Todd notes—although I'd argue that they're due for a whole lot of conversation before forgiveness comes into play. (It's not even about dating Jessica, although there's an argument to be made that he's functionally cheating on both of them throughout the course of all this—it's the complete abandonment of Elizabeth when things get rough.) But Todd has learned nothing about Jessica over the past 96 books, so...he assumes that if he drops it through the mail slot, this won't happen:

Jessica leaned back against the wall and stared blankly at the letter lying in her palm. After a long moment, she laughed out loud, amazed by Todd's stupidity. "Did he really think I wouldn't see this?" she asked the empty hallway. (66)

Oh, Todd. Let's hope he's pretty, because he sure is dumb.

Bruce proves that he is a human manifestation of toxic sludge. I guess that isn't all that surprising, but he hits new lows in this one. Here he is, perpetuating the same falsehoods that have already made Pamela's life hell at her old school:

Then Bruce laughed, his attitude shifting abruptly to one of mock insouciance. "Besides, I got what I wanted out of Pamela—the same thing every other guy's gotten from her. I can live with that." Jumping up from his chair, Bruce strode from the room. (59)

And here he is again, showcasing his 'wit':

"Heading home already, Pamela?" he heard himself call after her. "Why not stick around school a little longer? You could catch the tail end of football practice, or do you like basketball players better?" Pamela turned back toward him, her eyes stricken. For some reason, her pain only egged Bruce on. "No, let me guess," he drawled. "You'd rather sit in on a faculty meeting—you're ready for some older men."

Laughing at his own wit, Bruce climbed into the Porsche and started the engine. He didn't give Pamela another glance—that was part of her punishment—but as he backed out of the parking space, he couldn't help glimpsing her in the side mirror. In the instant before he roared off, leaving her standing in a cloud of dust, he could see the tears streaming down her face. (78)

Later Bruce realizes that, oh! Pamela might be a slutty slut, but he's also a slutty slut, so he probably shouldn't be judging her so harshly, because double standards and all. Honestly, it's almost worse that Pamela's reputation is down to a smear campaign built on falsehoods, because even as Bruce realizes that Double Standards Are Bad, Who Knew?, and even as Pamela falls gratefully into his arms (ffs, Pamela, hold out for someone who hasn't spent the last three books denigrating you because he thinks you're not a virgin)...the book is still perpetuating those double standards, no? Pamela has a reputation, the book assures us, but she isn't actually a slutty slut. She's worthy of redemption. She's worthy of yet another boy who has treated her terribly! What joy for Pamela.

Lila's mother Grace is still around, and Lila is happy as a clam about it and scheming to get her parents back together. She barely blinks when she learns that her mother grew up rich but her father is a butcher's son—she and her father really don't talk, huh—or when her mother tells her that her father basically lied his way into declaring Grace an unfit mother and keeping her from even having visiting rights because she was unhappy in their marriage. I mean, okay, Lila's shocked for a second. And then within the next two pages all is forgiven, and she's scheming a happily-ever after for her parents. (Her mother has terrible taste in men; don't ask me about the boyfriend she's brought back from France.)

And Margo: she's scheming and steaming her way to Sweet Valley, her mental-health symptoms getting less consistent by the book (at a guess, they're based on schizophrenia and/or multiple personality disorder, but let's not insult people who have those disorders by pressing that association). We learn that the brother of one of her recent victims is on her tail...and Margo becomes ever more convinced that Elizabeth's life should be hers.