Black Iris

False narrative

Iris

The court fell quiet when I walked in. Everyone in the audience was milling about, talking to the people behind, in the aisles, but they stopped to look at me. I looked past them, my mouth dry. The judge did not look happy that she had been kept waiting. When I glanced at Ophelia's table, she was eying me with a calculating look. I looked away.

The moment I took my seat beside Blake he leaned across and whispered, "What the fuck was that about?"

"Mr Ivy, might I remind you that the press is here," one of our lawyers, a sharp man named David Johansson, interrupted, his voice curt.

Blake glanced at him then at the press. There were already cameras trained on us.

I gently rubbed Blake's arm in a display of affection.

"It's okay. It was just a faulty detector. They think it picked up my earrings."

I gestured to my now unadorned ear.

He glanced at me skeptically. Then he shook his head.

"Faulty detector my ass," he whispered. "They planned this. Make us look like criminals right out the gate."

"Mr. Ivy," Mr. Johansson said, warning him to be quiet.

The guard that had guided me up here had gone up to the judge and said something quietly to her, and I watched as she was in quiet discussion with him, glancing over at me every so often.

Then, he walked away, and the judge called order to the court. 

"It's come to my attention that the half hour delay this morning was due to a faulty metal detector. Ms West, I expect you to be more particular with your choice of jewellery from now on. But now that it is resolved, we will get started. I'll call the jury in to begin proceedings in five minutes. Please make your way to your seats."

There was a murmur of noise, and when I glanced across at Ophelia, she was frowning.

Yeah, she didn't buy it.

And from the sound of it, she wasn't the only one. Whispers of what had happened were rippling across the crowd, to voices of disbelief. Blake scowled.

"This is bullshit. A smear campaign before the trial even starts."

"Mr Ivy-"

"Yes, I get it, the media," he interrupted. "I'll tell you what though, Johansson. The media are going to have a fucking field day with this."

Johansson sighed. "If we play our cards right, the media isn't going to care about a faulty metal detector by the end of the day."

Blake scowled, but didn't reply. I looked away, training my eyes on my hands.

We keep it quiet. Stay on the down low. It's the only way.

So I concealed my suffering and looked up, looking up at the judge. The court was settling now, although there were still a few whispers.

Then the judge cleared her throat and called us to stand for the entrance of the jury. We did, and in they rolled.

Watching them walk in and take their seats made it all feel so much more real. Realer than the first time we'd stood here, months before, at the preliminary trial, where the judge essentially took one look at the case and said there was no way in hell it would be settled outside a courtroom.