Am I a Dark Side?

Today was the day I would be facing the court, the jury, and everyone. After my investigation, I sent all of my evidence to my lawyer, so he would be able to help with it even if it wasn’t necessary. Of course I didn’t have much time to conference with my lawyer before I was handcuffed, and taken into the court room.

I looked over the jury, who all had grimace covering their faces, and by what I could tell none of them were going to be easy to sway. I looked around the court room quickly; the atmosphere was cold, but the tension in the room was also apparent. Looking to the judge’s seat and the seats where witnesses would soon be sitting caused me to get high stress levels. It was rather intimidating to see a room so small, but that sentenced so many large punishments.

Finally, the judge started to come in the room. “Please rise for Judge Evans,” one of the people near where she entered spoke. Everyone in the room stood, the tension lowering a bit, as if they knew that high tension would anger the judge. The judge then told use to please be seated, so we all sat.

For the first part of this case both the person defending me and the person not on my side (they have specific names that I can’t remember) stood, and started with the opening statements. What happened before the first witness was called to the stand, I can’t tell you. I can tell you that I felt very nervous and uncomfortable listening to everyone talk about me, like I wasn’t even in the room. They used words that made me feel awkward; words like “my client” just raised my stress level.

Finally, after what seemed like hours passed, the first witness was called to the witness stand. “I’d like to call Leslie Rogers to the stand,” my lawyer spoke professionally. As it turned out Leslie was the woman I had questioned when I tried to find evidence. They made Leslie take the oath with her hand on the bible, as all witnesses that followed would have to do.

“Leslie where were you midday on Wednesday, August 15th?” I could tell my lawyer was trying to be soft with the fragile, old woman.

“I was at my home, as I usually am, sir,” Leslie answered.

“Did you see anything suspicious that day, Mrs. Rogers? Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”

“Yes, sir. I did see some strange things amuck.”

“Did any of those strange things involve Mr. Peters?” My lawyer looked into Leslie’s eyes, curiosity bouncing off of his blue eyes.

“Yes. As a matter of fact they did.”

“Where did these strange proceedings take place?”

“At your client’s house, sir,” she said as she pointed to me. I was slightly amused by how often she used sir, but I knew that it was an older lady thing to be polite.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Yes, sir. I was just sitting in my house, like usual since I don’t get out much, and I happened to be looking out my window. I saw a grey car pull up to the curb, and come to a fast stop at the curb in front of her house. Then a man got out, and ran up to the door; I could tell he was trying to force himself into the house. The next thing I knew, a big, yellow school bus came into my vision, barreling down the street. The next thing I saw the door was thrown open with haste, and a man running into her house like a maniac.”

“Can you identify around what time it was when this occurred?”

“Had to be around 3 P.M. because that’s the same time the school bus passes by every day,” Mrs. Rogers said confidently.

“Thank you, Mrs. Rogers.” My lawyer sat down next to me, and the other lawyer got up to question her.

“Mrs. Rogers isn’t it true that you’re old and could be losing part of your memory?” the next lawyer asked.

“No.”

“How are you so sure though, Mrs. Rogers?”

“You can check my medical records. I go there at least once, if not twice, a month. My doctor says I have an exceptional memory for my age.”

“Well maybe you were seeing things. Isn’t it true that you have glasses? Were you wearing them when you saw this?”

“I do have glasses. That is true, but I never take them off. I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face without them. I leave them on even when I sleep.”

I could tell by the lawyer’s body language that he had no clue what else he could ask. “No further questioning.” He wouldn’t ask her if she could identify the man as Mr. Peters, I realized, because it was in the very same time frame.

The next witness was a girl that looked like she was about in her early twenties. She was apparently a previous student of Mr. Peters. I don’t remember all the questions she was asked, but one in particular stood out:

“Did Mr. Peters ever say anything to you in a flirting manner, when you took his class?”

“Yes. He sure did,” the woman said that and then began to sob.

“What happened after that?”

“I was stupid.” The woman could barely speak through her tears, “I was young. I was naïve. That man, he made me play a game. He said that if I could guess the answer to an English question, I could keep my clothes on. Of course he asked a difficult question that a little girl couldn’t answer. He made me take all my clothes off, and go in the storage closet. And there is the place he…” The woman started to sob even louder, and finally screamed, “RAPED ME!”

Everyone in the audience gasped. Even I was slightly shocked, and I was the one that knew the teacher liked to hit on his students. “No further questions,” my lawyer spoke softly to the woman. We all knew that the opposing lawyer would go after her, saying that it wasn’t valid because she couldn’t prove it.

“So ma’am, you are saying that this man raped you and just now coming forward? Why would you not come to the court sooner for this? This is not valid proof that this man had a bad history! You cannot remember things that happened years ago! You cannot possibly suppress your “bad” story that long and conveniently remember to tell the court now! The court will not believe such an invalid story! Judge, I demand this evidence be ripped to shreds and not considered!” The opposing lawyer was practically on the urge of having a mental breakdown. He was screaming in the court.

The judge spoke immediately after the last word was out of that lawyer’s mouth. “Councilman, stand down. This is my court and I will do what I please and what I see is right. Now, do you have a specific question for this poor girl that doesn’t sound like an attack?”

“You cannot expect me to stand here and listen to this piece of crap “evidence.” She never had any tests to prove that he did rape her, so how should we believe her? Who is she that she can be trusted? She took an oath, but that doesn’t mean I have to believe what she says!”

“Councilman, stand down immediately. If you do not, consequences will be suited fit for you. I will not have consequences for you, but I’m sure God and this jury will.” I liked the judge for this case. She presented herself bluntly, but with a lot of eloquence in her tone.

“You expect me to stand down! I’m here to defend justice and what is right, not unlike you! Are you going to sit there and defend this….this liar? You should be defending what is right, not all the wrong things! This court is out of order! I demand calls for a mistrial.” The room was silent, listening to every word of this outburst, but not believing a word of it. This might be just what I need to be set free.

“You are out of order! I’m throwing this case out for good. Melanie is free to go; she is not guilty. Security, please, take this man away,” the judge screamed, pointing at the opposing lawyer.