He Saved Me, Loved Me, Wanted Me
XIII.
Brian helped me out of the cab when we arrived in front of the courthouse where Mr. Ames said he would be waiting for us. I dressed in a nice black dress that I had bought for this very event while Brian just wore ripped jeans and a button up tee. He looked so utterly sexy that I was on the edge. But then I remembered with my testimony it could send my father to prison. I grabbed onto my purse with one hand and gripped Brian’s in the other while we walked into the building.
“Ah, Miss Whitaker, Mr. Haner! Nice to see you!” Mr. Ames said in English. Yesterday when we saw him, we asked him to talk to us in English for Brian’s sake. Luckily he knew English. Brian would still be lost. The whole day French was going to be thrown at him. I’d debrief him afterward.
“Ames. How’s it going?” Brian asked, shaking his hand.
“How’s… what going?” Brian and I laughed.
“The day,” I answered.
“Oh, very well. Court starts in about… ten minutes so let’s go get settled.” Brian and I nodded. We walked into the courtroom and I sat on the right side behind Mr. Ames. He sat at a table himself and looked at his papers while Brian and I sat in the crowd.
“I’m so nervous,” I told him. Brian put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me close.
“It’ll be okay, babe.”
“I hope.”
Brian’s attention shifted to the other end of the room, and I followed his gaze. Walking in the room with an orange jumper on his body, and handcuffs on his wrists was Al Whitaker. The reason for my being here. Al didn’t see me and I didn’t think he would until my name was mentioned. Which wouldn’t be that long. This was the day for whoever the lawyers called to come up. I’d probably be first.
“All stand.” The room stood. I had to pull up Brian. “The Honorable Judge Ernest Gaskell presides.”
“You may be seated. Today we will first start off with Mr. Ames. Mr. Ames would you like to present anyone?”
“Yes. The city recognizes Mr. Richard Claremont to the stand.”
The old man I met as the person who saved me walked up to the stand. He was a poor man, but he dressed in his Sunday best. His wrinkles and grey beard showed that of wisdom more than old age and his blue eyes kindly looked at Mr. Ames.
“Mr. Claremont, please tell the courtroom your story,” Mr. Ames spoke kindly.
Richard cleared his throat. “That night I was watching the news. When it was commercial, I stood to let my dog out. When I walked outside, I heard a gunshot.”
“Do you know who the gunshot was from?”
“No, sir.”
“What did you do next?”
“I went as fast as I could toward them. I stopped when I saw a boy lying on the ground. I checked to see if he was alive or not.”
“Was he?”
“No. He was dead.”
“What next?”
I went to the van, and there was a girl tied up. I checked to see that she was still breathing, but only barely was she.”
“Thank you Mr. Claremont.”
Mr. Ames sat down.
“Mr. Berr?” the judge asked. A gruff, heavily set older man in a cheap tan suit shook his head. “You may step down.” Richard walked from the stand and back to his seat. He smiled at me. “Mr. Ames, do you have another witness?”
“Yes.” Mr. Ames stood again. “I call Miss Anastasia Whitaker to the stand.”
“Good luck, baby,” Brian whispered before I stood up. I looked at no one as I walked to the bailiff.
“Raise your right hand, please.” I did. “Do you swear upon this bible to tell the truth, whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do,” I said. I sat in the chair. The bailiff was kind enough to hold my hand as I stepped up the stairs.
Mr. Ames walked up in front of me, a little to the side so the jury could see me.
“Miss Whitaker, what is your relationship to the defendant?”
“He is my father,” I said.
Poor Bri. He didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t dare to look at Al. Even though I knew he could do nothing to me, when I was little I always got hit every time I tried to stand up to him.
“Would you explain to the court what happened the night of October fourteenth?”
I started the story I told several. “That night there was a concert, and Brian proposed.”
“Who is Brian?”
“Brian Haner. He’s a guitar player for Avenged Sevenfold.”
“And you have played piano for the band, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Please continue.”
“Afterwards, some friends wanted to celebrate. So we all went to the store to get alcohol. Before we checked out, I went to the bathroom and as I came out, I was kidnapped.”
“By who?”
“Objection, your honor, this is a case about some one being murdered, not a kidnapping.” Mr. Berr said. Bastard. I was telling a story here!
“Mr. Ames?” the judge asked.
“This has significance, your honor.”
“Overruled. Please continue, Miss Whitaker.”
“Thank you.” I paused, trying to remember where I left off. “As I was saying, I was kidnapped. By Ricky Miller.”
“The victim Mr. Whitaker is accused of murdering?”
“I wouldn’t say victim, but yes. Ricky forced me asleep, and I woke up later in a van. It gets real cloudy from here on but… Ricky was about to do something but Al came into view. He yelled something about wanting his money, and Ricky started running.” The scene of Ricky being shot ran through my mind.
“Please go on. I know this may be hard.”
“Al shot Ricky. Point blank.”
“So you did see it?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Before Ricky was shot he was talking on the phone.”
“Thank you, Miss Whitaker.”
Mr. Ames went to sit down.
“Mr. Berr?”
The cheap man walked up to me.
“How did Ricky make you pass out?”
“I don’t know. He put a rag over my mouth. It could’ve had a chemical in it.”
“You seem really put together with seeing a murder.”
“I know. I’ve learned to suck it up.”
“Do you know who Ricky was talking to, and about what?”
“Not at the time, but I later found out it was Brian.”
“Your fiancé?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Miss Whitaker,” Berr started walking. “It was night. Are you positive this was your father you saw shooting Ricky Miller?”
“I am. I know that man’s voice anywhere.”
“Have ou thought about what the chemical may be? Chloroform is common in making people become unconscious. If you had been submitted to that chemical, you might’ve been loopy, and thought you say your father shoot Ricky.”
“Objection!” Mr. Ames said. “He’s putting words into her mouth, and he’s hypothesizing.”
“Overruled,” the judge said. “Stick to the facts, Mr. Berr.”
Berr sighed, clearly agitated. “Thank you.”
“Ah, Miss Whitaker, Mr. Haner! Nice to see you!” Mr. Ames said in English. Yesterday when we saw him, we asked him to talk to us in English for Brian’s sake. Luckily he knew English. Brian would still be lost. The whole day French was going to be thrown at him. I’d debrief him afterward.
“Ames. How’s it going?” Brian asked, shaking his hand.
“How’s… what going?” Brian and I laughed.
“The day,” I answered.
“Oh, very well. Court starts in about… ten minutes so let’s go get settled.” Brian and I nodded. We walked into the courtroom and I sat on the right side behind Mr. Ames. He sat at a table himself and looked at his papers while Brian and I sat in the crowd.
“I’m so nervous,” I told him. Brian put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me close.
“It’ll be okay, babe.”
“I hope.”
Brian’s attention shifted to the other end of the room, and I followed his gaze. Walking in the room with an orange jumper on his body, and handcuffs on his wrists was Al Whitaker. The reason for my being here. Al didn’t see me and I didn’t think he would until my name was mentioned. Which wouldn’t be that long. This was the day for whoever the lawyers called to come up. I’d probably be first.
“All stand.” The room stood. I had to pull up Brian. “The Honorable Judge Ernest Gaskell presides.”
“You may be seated. Today we will first start off with Mr. Ames. Mr. Ames would you like to present anyone?”
“Yes. The city recognizes Mr. Richard Claremont to the stand.”
The old man I met as the person who saved me walked up to the stand. He was a poor man, but he dressed in his Sunday best. His wrinkles and grey beard showed that of wisdom more than old age and his blue eyes kindly looked at Mr. Ames.
“Mr. Claremont, please tell the courtroom your story,” Mr. Ames spoke kindly.
Richard cleared his throat. “That night I was watching the news. When it was commercial, I stood to let my dog out. When I walked outside, I heard a gunshot.”
“Do you know who the gunshot was from?”
“No, sir.”
“What did you do next?”
“I went as fast as I could toward them. I stopped when I saw a boy lying on the ground. I checked to see if he was alive or not.”
“Was he?”
“No. He was dead.”
“What next?”
I went to the van, and there was a girl tied up. I checked to see that she was still breathing, but only barely was she.”
“Thank you Mr. Claremont.”
Mr. Ames sat down.
“Mr. Berr?” the judge asked. A gruff, heavily set older man in a cheap tan suit shook his head. “You may step down.” Richard walked from the stand and back to his seat. He smiled at me. “Mr. Ames, do you have another witness?”
“Yes.” Mr. Ames stood again. “I call Miss Anastasia Whitaker to the stand.”
“Good luck, baby,” Brian whispered before I stood up. I looked at no one as I walked to the bailiff.
“Raise your right hand, please.” I did. “Do you swear upon this bible to tell the truth, whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do,” I said. I sat in the chair. The bailiff was kind enough to hold my hand as I stepped up the stairs.
Mr. Ames walked up in front of me, a little to the side so the jury could see me.
“Miss Whitaker, what is your relationship to the defendant?”
“He is my father,” I said.
Poor Bri. He didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t dare to look at Al. Even though I knew he could do nothing to me, when I was little I always got hit every time I tried to stand up to him.
“Would you explain to the court what happened the night of October fourteenth?”
I started the story I told several. “That night there was a concert, and Brian proposed.”
“Who is Brian?”
“Brian Haner. He’s a guitar player for Avenged Sevenfold.”
“And you have played piano for the band, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Please continue.”
“Afterwards, some friends wanted to celebrate. So we all went to the store to get alcohol. Before we checked out, I went to the bathroom and as I came out, I was kidnapped.”
“By who?”
“Objection, your honor, this is a case about some one being murdered, not a kidnapping.” Mr. Berr said. Bastard. I was telling a story here!
“Mr. Ames?” the judge asked.
“This has significance, your honor.”
“Overruled. Please continue, Miss Whitaker.”
“Thank you.” I paused, trying to remember where I left off. “As I was saying, I was kidnapped. By Ricky Miller.”
“The victim Mr. Whitaker is accused of murdering?”
“I wouldn’t say victim, but yes. Ricky forced me asleep, and I woke up later in a van. It gets real cloudy from here on but… Ricky was about to do something but Al came into view. He yelled something about wanting his money, and Ricky started running.” The scene of Ricky being shot ran through my mind.
“Please go on. I know this may be hard.”
“Al shot Ricky. Point blank.”
“So you did see it?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Before Ricky was shot he was talking on the phone.”
“Thank you, Miss Whitaker.”
Mr. Ames went to sit down.
“Mr. Berr?”
The cheap man walked up to me.
“How did Ricky make you pass out?”
“I don’t know. He put a rag over my mouth. It could’ve had a chemical in it.”
“You seem really put together with seeing a murder.”
“I know. I’ve learned to suck it up.”
“Do you know who Ricky was talking to, and about what?”
“Not at the time, but I later found out it was Brian.”
“Your fiancé?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Miss Whitaker,” Berr started walking. “It was night. Are you positive this was your father you saw shooting Ricky Miller?”
“I am. I know that man’s voice anywhere.”
“Have ou thought about what the chemical may be? Chloroform is common in making people become unconscious. If you had been submitted to that chemical, you might’ve been loopy, and thought you say your father shoot Ricky.”
“Objection!” Mr. Ames said. “He’s putting words into her mouth, and he’s hypothesizing.”
“Overruled,” the judge said. “Stick to the facts, Mr. Berr.”
Berr sighed, clearly agitated. “Thank you.”