Checkmate

33

   The following Monday kicked off a week of thorough preparation. We prepped our witnesses and made sure we had all the statements necessary by Thursday. When the trial officially began, I got to introduce my client. The plaintiff, Erin Samuels, married far too young to recognize the signs foreshadowing the hell she'd just signed up for. Once she did, it was already too late. The beatings she was subjected to were so methodically calculated, he'd limit his hits to below her collarbones, arms, and legs. Any area that'd typically be exposed was, more often than not, left intact.

   She recounted only a few occasions when he stepped out of his usual pattern. One night, in particular, she recalled receiving excessive damage to her face. A fractured cheekbone, a broken nose, and a split lip.

"I was shocked he went for my face," she spoke into the mic the following Wednesday.

   I held her gaze as she inhaled deeply, visibly disturbed by the memories. Her left hand went to her cheek, but she tried to play it off as if she'd meant to tuck a strand of her honey-brown wig behind her ear, her nervous jitters on display.

"The whole time after, I just lay there and wondered how I would hide this," she said with a self-deprecating chuckle, forcing a smile to the jury, before carrying on with a new rasp to her voice now, "I thought, he just got carried away,". I know it sounds crazy, but at the time the most I could expect was the familiar pain. I'd been through it enough times to at least be ready mentally. That night..."

She paused and let out a shaky breath and looked skyward, not blinking back tears, "That night there was a rage I hadn't seen before. I think he knew it too. That's why he called for help."

Erin choked on the words as she told the court, recalling the night she was beaten so badly, she had to be treated by our next witness.

Dr. Stewart Alexander, a tall, brick of a man, held up his right hand while his left palm lay on the bible, swearing to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Beside me, Manon arranged the necessary documents, and then I was standing in the middle of the courtroom, my gaze kind but confident, as I addressed my witness.

Starting with the preliminary introductions, Dr. Alexander told the court his credentials.

"I studied at Johns Hopkins for four years and got my DO and then for five years, I did my residency. For sixteen years I practiced orthopedic surgery before deciding it was time for a change around 2014, I decided to focus more on reconstructive surgery. It was a much better fit for me."

"And how long have you known the defendant?"

"We frequented the same high school but at the time we stayed with different crowds so we hardly interacted with each other. I left town for med school and it's around that time, whenever I'd come back for visits, that our friendship grew."

I nodded, "I see. So, based on what you told us, a doctor of your caliber would be fully capable of providing a patient with emergency care outside of a hospital?"

"Objection, leading," Mr. McAdams declared, making me pause in my step, shifting my gaze toward the judge.

"It's a general question, your honor," I respectfully told him and he nodded.

"Overruled, the witness will answer."

"Thank you, your honor," I smiled and motioned for Dr. Alexander to answer.

"Yes, it would be within my capability to provide emergency care for someone in need."

Nodding along, I stepped over to the desk where Manon already had a file waiting for me.