Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 2
- 4 years ago
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The door to the jury room opened and a man wearing glasses came in. He looked at something on a clipboard in his hand.
"We're about to begin," he said, with no other introduction. "I need to give you some information about what's expected of you. Please listen closely."
He read a list of rules, things they could and could not do while they were sitting in the jury box. His voice droned, making it clear he'd read this list countless times in the past.
Fully half the jury tuned him out within the first thirty seconds. Reggie wasn't interested in hearing a white man tell him what he could and couldn't do. Rick just wanted to get on with things. Jane thought it was stupid that you couldn't talk to each other out there, and while thinking of all the reasons it was stupid missed everything else that was said. Jim was trying to remember if he'd saved his recent work. Judy, similar to Reggie, heard a man laying down the rules and felt sorry for his wife. Kelsey was trying so hard to learn the new rules that, after the third one, he got confused and gave up.
"All rise!" came the astonishingly high and effeminate voice of the tall, gangly bailiff.
There was a snicker from the gallery, and the Honorable Wade Gunderson's head turned sharply as he stepped up to the bench. His eyes raked over the sparse audience, which went deathly quiet as it was obvious he was trying to see who had made the noise. The bailiff seemed not to have heard the disturbance, and droned on, saying the Judge's name and the type of court everyone already knew they were in.
Judge Gunderson arranged his long black robe and sat in the desk chair he'd picked out himself. If you had to sit somewhere for hours on end, it should, by God, be comfortable.
"Sit down," he growled, looking down at the folder on his desk. He looked up, his eyes going to the prosecutor first. "You ready?"
Roger stood. "Yes, your honor," he said formally.
The judge's dark eyes, under bushy white eyebrows that could have been Andy Rooney's, went to Matthew next.
"Is the defense ready?"
"The defense is ready," said Matthew.
"Any motions before we begin?" asked Gunderson.
No one said anything.
"Opening statements," said the judge, and leaned back.
Roger stood, looked through some papers on his desk one last time, and strolled over to lay one hand on the rail that separated him from the twelve people he was quite sure would side with him by the end of the day.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are here to hear evidence that will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Lacey Jean Fetterman killed one Gilbert Kinneson. Further, you will hear that that killing was unlawful and constituted murder in the second degree."
He seemed to think for a few seconds and then went on.
"The defense is going to try to convince you that this was all just a mistake, or that Ms. Fetterman lost control of herself. They will point out that she turned herself in and that she feels remorse for her acts. But the fact remains, ladies and gentlemen, that she burned a man to death, and that she knew he was alive when she did it. She even confessed to that, and the prosecution will show that she confessed without being coerced in any way."
He looked into the eyes of each juror, all of whom were actually looking at him.
"The spirit of her victim cries out for justice. You MUST find her guilty, ladies and gentleman. Justice demands it!"
He made eye contact with each juror one more time and then returned to his seat.
Matthew McDill got up. He looked scared.
"On the twenty-third of May, this year, Lacey Fetterman let what she thought was an employee of the gas company into her apartment. Her life was then threatened with a knife, and she was brutally raped. The rapist said he would be coming back to rape her again."
Matthew also made eye contact with each juror, and continued.
"It ruined her life, ladies and gentlemen, in ways that will be explained to you. She was frightened all of the time after that, never knowing if or when her attacker would suddenly show up to abuse her again. Then, quite suddenly, through circumstances she had no control over, she was thrown together with this despicable rapist again. She was terrified, and she reacted. We will make argument that her actions, at that point, were ill advised, but she was terrified. She didn't set out that fateful day to hurt anyone. She's never hurt anyone before or since that day. The prosecutor said that justice demands you find her guilty. I say that justice demands she be given a chance to gather what remains of her life and struggle on."
He turned and went to sit beside the woman that every juror was now staring curiously at.
Roger Schwartz went about his job with precision and efficiency. He had read all of the police reports the woman was involved with. He'd had to scramble to get Kinneson identified, since he'd been buried as a John Doe. There were quite a few details in those reports that he had no desire for the jury to know about. Bob Duncan had testified in Roger's trials in the past. It was obvious there had been some kind of dustup in the police department, since Duncan was no longer a detective, but his reports were superb and Roger hadn't seen any need to interview him before the trial.
Considering that the accused seemed to want to confess every time anybody talked to her, it seemed very straightforward, though. It was really open and closed, just like the reports seemed to be.
He anticipated few bumps in the road.
He started with the traffic investigation of the incident that day, calling Officer Robert Duncan to the stand. In many cases, he just would have just asked the witness to describe the investigation. In this instance, however, his questions were precise. Roger wanted the jury to learn as little about Mr. Kinneson as possible. He did not, for example, want them to know that Kinneson had died in a stolen car, after being chased for miles by half a dozen troopers and cops who suspected him of just having raped the woman whose car he'd stolen.
"Officer Duncan, did you find Mr. Kinneson's body in a car?" he asked.
"I found a body in a car which was later identified as being Gilbert Kinesson," said Bob, who generally answered questions in court as accurately and with as few words as possible.
"What was the attitude of the vehicle when you first saw it?"
"It was upside down."
"I understand the car was burned."
"Objection!" said McDill. "Leading the witness."
Judge Gunderson scowled. "Don't try to make a game of this. We all know he can establish the car was burned."
"I'll rephrase, your honor," said Schwartz magnanimously. He turned back to Bob. "Was the car burned?"
The place he directed her to was a tiny hole-in-the-wall that she would have never given a second glance. She realized how hungry she was the instant she walked in, through the door Bob held for her, and the odor of wonderful, delicious things hit her like a sledge hammer. "Vinny!" Bob called out to a man, standing at the grill, wearing a white paper hat. Vinny looked over his shoulder, grinned, and held both hands up in the air, a spatula still in one. "You got me, copper," he said....
Lacey was ferrying a flash drive containing hundreds of photographs from the dig to the museum. A major discovery had been found. A collapsed cellar had been uncovered and, inside it, there were bones. Human bones. It wasn't clear yet how they had come to be there, but there were no indications of intentional burial. The artifacts found with the bodies suggested that people had taken refuge in the cellar and had died there. The pictures were needed at the museum as soon as possible, so that...
Bob had just left the briefing room, coming on shift. He hadn't even buckled his seat belt when the radio squawked to life, telling him of a multiple injury accident, with an explosion involved. Paramedics and the fire department were already on the scene. Three patrols were being dispatched, and all three were still in the parking lot, after the briefing in the squad room. Three engines roared, and three sirens began to wail, as tires screeched. It was impossible to get close to the...
When Bob went off shift, he returned to the hospital. "How come you're the only cop who ever checks on her?" asked the head nurse. "It's my case," he said bruskly. "How's she doing?" "Better," said the nurse. "She should be awake. All her vitals are normal. The sedative has been stopped. The only reason she's still in ICU is that she won't wake up." "I'll just sit with her for a while," said Bob. He'd stayed in uniform, since that got him almost anything he wanted, with...
Sleep came with difficulty for Bob. His mind roiled with the import of what he knew ... or thought he knew. He tried to convince himself that cars caught on fire all the time. There was only circumstantial evidence that the dead man was her rapist at all. Even the fact that there had been no more rapes with that modus operandi didn't prove anything. Like Lacey, no one had come forward to ask where their son, or brother, or father, or husband was. The crispy critter, still unidentified, was...
He took her to the impound lot, answering her questions when he thought he could do so safely, and dodging them or changing the subject when it got close to something he didn't want to talk about. She was appropriately awed by the damage to her car, and only glanced through the box of her possessions. The attendant brought out a bill for storage, and Bob tore it up. "Hey, you can't do that!" said the attendant. "I just did," said Bob. "The lady was in the hospital while it was...
He took her to Santini's. On the way, he told her a car had sideswiped hers, and that she hadn't been injured. While she was trying to help others involved in the accident, an explosion had occurred. He left it simple. "Explosion," she said, her voice far away. "I remember light ... all over ... I was submerged in light." "What else do you remember?" he asked, his voice guarded. "Just that. When you said explosion, it just came to me." When they walked into Santini's, Donna met...
Bob eventually slept, despite the erection between his legs that demanded attention. It was still demanding attention when he woke the next morning, with a soft, naked woman pressed against his body. It had been a long time since there had been a naked woman of any kind pressed against his body when he woke. That had been a result of long hours, and an unwillingness by Bob to turn over part of his life to any woman. It wasn't that he didn't like women ... it was more that he hadn't found a...
Bob went back to his apartment. The bed was still unmade and the wrinkled linens held the imprint of a bed that had been slept in by a couple. The pillow she'd used was lying against his own, like her head had lain close to his. On impulse, he bent to sniff the sheets where she had lain. They smelled like ... her. He hadn't missed the verbal slip that the doctor had made. She'd been about to say that as much as she would have liked to get naked with him, right there in the office, it...
Bob sat and read magazines, until there were none left to examine. There was no noise coming through the door—it was so quiet he felt like he was the only person on the planet. Eventually, his ears detected the hum of air being pushed here and there by the building's air handler units. He heard a siren dimly, through the walls, but no traffic noises. He checked his watch so frequently that he finally took it off and put it in his pocket. Finally, he dozed off. He woke, when the door opened...
Bob popped two Vivarin when he got into the squad car the next morning. She had kept him up all night, satisfying her own needs and making up for the dry spell Bob had been in. He felt drained, but also more relaxed than he'd been in years. He was no longer distracted, either. Lacey had another appointment with Claire, but he was no longer worried that she'd suddenly realize there was no past between them. That had already been addressed. Now all he had to worry about was the return of...
Lacey went back to see Claire ahead of schedule, and told her everything that had happened. Claire put her under again, and spent an hour exploring the details of the rape that she hadn't gone after earlier. As each horrible part of the assault was revealed, Claire worked more instructions into the dialog, intended to minimize the emotional impact of the memories. Then she brought Lacey out of the hypnotic trance and spent another hour with her, concentrating on the things that Lacey felt...
Bob heard her gasp as he left the bedroom. His head swiveled and he saw her standing there, bent slightly forward, her arm outstretched, hand turned sideways in a fist at the top of a candle. Her face was so pale it looked almost ghostly. Her mouth opened and an agonized groan was torn from her throat as she dropped the lighter and reeled backwards. Her eyes stared at the tall, pale yellow flame that the lighter had created at the tip of the candle, but her mind saw the same hand,...
Back in the apartment, Claire asked questions. They were not "What did you do?" type questions, but rather were "How do you feel about what you did?" type questions. Lacey didn't feel good about any of it. For the psychiatrist, it was like walking a tightrope. Or, perhaps it was like making her patient walk the tightrope. There needed to be remorse for a bad deed, for there to be health in the mind and spirit. But it could be taken too far, and the patient could begin to hate herself,...
She was adamant about keeping her appointment with Claire. He was glad she was going, because he had to go to work. He hoped Claire would talk some sense into her, and he made her promise not to do anything until she'd talked it over with him, no matter what she decided to do. She was waiting for him when he got home from his shift. She was calm, but looked drained. "I have to make this right," she said. "If you're sure about this, then it needs to be done right," he said...
Two weeks later Bob was coming home from the gym, still dressed in his sweats. McDill had instructed them, superfluously, not to see each other until after the trial. He had been noncommittal after his questioning of Bob, concerning what his defense would be. "I have some ideas," was all he'd say. Bob turned the last corner and started toward the entrance to his apartment building. A car pulled to a stop at the curb next to him and the window rolled down. "Get in!" came a male voice he...
Roger Schwartz grabbed his briefcase and hurried for the entrance/exit of the new suite of offices the prosecutor's staff was lucky to have just moved into. Lucille, his secretary, called out a cheery "Good luck!" as he sailed by her desk. "Don't need luck!" he yelled back, flashing her a grin. In fact, he believed that. He was one of the up and coming lawyers of a generation that believed skill would make "luck" an archaic term. If that seems a bit rash, perhaps it could be said...
The next witness called after lunch was probably a poor choice for that particular spot in the lineup, but it hadn't been planned that way. It was the medical examiner who had done the autopsy on Kinneson's remains. Schwartz apologized to the jury for what they were about to hear, and then had the doctor describe the compound fracture in the victim's leg, which would have made it impossible for him to move around on his own. Then there was the testimony of the condition of the lungs, which...
It was day two of the trial and Roger was ready to produce testimony about the DNA identification of Gilbert Kinneson's remains. He had contacted Senior Technician Fred Simms, the lab supervisor, and hastily explained what he needed. Simms said it would be no problem. Schwartz tried to be as clear about things as possible. "Now I know that there were a lot of tests done on the DNA from the body," said Roger. "That's not germane to the issue in this trial. All I need is an overview of...
Instead of calling the first defense witness, Matthew now exercised his right to cross examine Officer Robert Duncan. Once Bob was on the stand, and had been reminded he was still under oath, Matthew began what he believed in his own mind was some of the most important questioning he'd do. He didn't want to ruin Bob, but uppermost in his mind was Lacey's welfare. "When did you first meet my client?" was his first question. Bob named the date and said, "I needed to interview her as the...
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"The defense calls Doctor Claire Montgomery to the stand," said Matthew. Roger stood. "Your honor, I fail to see the relevance of anything this witness could bring to the issue. I must object. Mental state is not at issue here. The accused did not plead based on insanity, either temporary or otherwise." Matthew spoke clearly. "Your honor, I have already indicated that I'm trying to establish motive for my client's actions. This witness's testimony is crucial to that...
As soon as Claire left the courtroom, the judge turned to the jury. "I'm not going to sequester you, because you have not started your deliberations. You may all go home to your families, but you are not to discuss anything you've heard in this case with anyone, under any circumstances. Is that perfectly clear?" Most of the jury nodded. "Court will resume at nine-thirty tomorrow morning," he said, and banged his gavel hard on the block. The gravity of the situation had penetrated...
The jury room hadn't changed much, but the changes that HAD been made were obvious. At each of the twelve chairs around the long table, there was a cheap name tag, made of paper folded into an inverted V. Maggie's was at one end of the table and bore the title "Foreman." It was almost lunch time and some faceless employee had provided a tray of sandwiches, individual bags of various kinds of chips, fruit, and pre-packaged salads from the cafe downstairs. There were also a dozen kinds of...
An hour and a half later Judy again chirped, "Let's vote!" Maggie looked around. People looked tired. A lot had been said, but there didn't seem to be any general consensus. Voting would at least be trying to make progress. She passed out ballots. This time, when she separated the pieces of folded paper, there were four in the guilty pile and eight in the not guilty pile. Everyone looked surprised. "My, my," said Maggie, who had changed her vote, but didn't expect anyone else to do...
"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked Judge Gunderson. Maggie stood. "We have, your honor." The bailiff took the folded piece of paper from her hand and walked it to the judge. He opened it. He looked at the jury, and then back at the paper. "Was this unanimous?" he asked. "Yes, sir," said Maggie. Gunderson handed the paper back to the bailiff, who returned it to Maggie. "The defendant will stand," intoned the judge. Lacey and McDill stood. Lacey looked like she might fall...
As it turned out, Claire's misgivings were justified. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and she had no clue as to how to proceed. Had she been in her professional setting, she would have controlled the conversation. She couldn't really do that, there in the restaurant. So, she chose to try giving Lacey the redemption she sought. "They forgave you," she said, her voice tight. Bob shot her a look that said very clearly, "What the fuck? You don't mean that." Lacey didn't see...
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xmoviesforyouOn Saturday evening in may we were sitting out on the porch and Crystal asked me "what are we gonna do tonight?" " I don't know. I thought we would just hang out at the house and watch tv and have a few drinks." It wasn't long before the sunset and we went inside and picked out a movie. Now let me tell ya a little about Crystal and myself also our relationship. Crystal and I both are 25 at this time and roommates due to slow down at work I had to save money and move in with her. She is about...
Arriving on time at the downtown high-rise, she located his listing and buzzed his apartment. The harsh snap of the door latch unlocking made her jump, but she soon had the presence of mind to push the door open, and walk through. As Mari waited in the lobby for the elevator up to the top floor, she was starting to have second thoughts about this whole adventure. Her best friend had talked her into having a massage session. June was Mari’s closest friend and confidante about all things,...
Masturbation"You...had...us...worried...sick...and...now...your...saying...you...screamed...because...of...the...way...you...LOOK?!" I flung her off my leg. "Yes!," My new 'look' consisted of shockingly white, thorn like hair (which now gives reason to why thorn was one of the suggested names) and dark vivid purple colored eyes. "You guys fail to realize that this is not a normal look in....where I come from." I stuttered slightly because I had forgotten that lyra was still in the room. "I told...