Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 82 - Sentenced

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART FOUR :: Leave The Front Line Behind

Chapter 82 - Sentenced

James sauntered into the courtroom, his head held high as he walked between the two escorting police officers. A smile was set on his face regardless of the bright orange jumper currently hanging off his shoulders and the forbidding atmosphere of the room. Even the chains around his ankles felt more like a compliment than a death sentence because they meant that the people around him were afraid.

His eyes caught sight of a familiar young woman's form amidst the crowd of attendees, his smile broadening as he noticed the fear lurking in her dark orbs. She was clothed in a black and red suit, her new height signifying to the presence of heels adorning her feet, and her long strawberry blonde tresses flowed down the lapels of her suit jacket. However, even in all of her glory, the woman James knew to be the prosecution's star witness did not insinuate a single hint of fear within him. For under that pristine suit lay a dark gang tattoo on the side of her hip, its presence displaying the unmistakable stars of Black Death.

The guards ushered him along, but his eyes held hers until he was forced to turn back around, his head unable to swivel any farther. James' prison-issue shoes left small scuff marks on the gleaming floor, his mark on the room visible to everyone. Women covered their lips with their hands and turned away as he walked by, their shoulders shaking in disbelief that anyone could ruthlessly lead a group of men to murder and steal without being the slightest bit ashamed. The truth was that James wasn't ashamed of this ending to his life, for even though it had been faulty judgment to join the gang in the first place, he was honorably giving his life to save that of his sister; and that alone was something to be proud of.

At least if he were to be convicted, he would go down a respected and feared gang leader; he would not break under the pressure and he would not let his sister see him frightened or distraught. For once in his life, James was going to prove his worth and face the consequences of his actions instead of taking the easy way out.

The smell of hair products and cologne all mingled in the air, mixing together and swirling through the mass of people to override the underlying scent of pine cleaner, and each conversation quickly came to a close as James walked to his seat. Before him stood the Judge's bench, tall and erect behind the separating partition, the lone black chair behind it empty. On either side of the chair proudly stood both a state and federal flag and to their right rested a witness stand. Overall, the room emanated an intimidating aura that would've made any other man shake in his boots.

James sat down in the hard wooden seat, relaxing back into its rigid confines as the rest of the prosecution and his lawyer flooded into the packed room, his trial spreading mixed feelings throughout the entire country but catching their attention nonetheless. He crossed his arms in front of him, the chains currently adorning his wrists longer than the handcuffs he'd been arrested in. He sat silently, taking in the sounds of rustling papers and shuffling feet even as his neck prickled with the weight of hundreds of eyes focused on him.

Camera crews and reporters crowded in one end of the room, their microphones poised and ready as they all shouted urgent questions, desperate to be the first to receive an answer. The bailiff stood at attention near the the mass to keep order as everyone waited for the judge to emerge from the door leading to his chambers. James closed his eyes against the chaos, reclining back to rest his stiff neck against the back of the chair.

Suddenly, the room grew quiet once again, the sound of footsteps ringing across the polished wood making him open his eyes. A black-robed judge with gray hair took his seat at the bench, the court officer announcing loudly, "All rise."

He reluctantly stood to his feet with the rest of the room.

"You may be seated." An answering shuffling resulted as everyone claimed their seats. "Please state your name for the record."

"James Rowan Carter."

The beady eyed man rested his gaze upon him. "Are you aware of the charges against you?"

"Yes I am."

The judge nodded, opening a file from the desk before him. "The formal charges against the defendant include; three counts of aggravated assault on the alleged dates of June 22nd, November 6th, and February 1st, thirteen counts of kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment ranging between the years of 2007 to 2012, one count of sexual assault in the first degree, one count of sexual assault in the second degree, arson in the first degree, drug possession, money laundering, seven counts of murder in the first degree allegedly ranging from March 25th, 2004 to April 16th, two counts of murder in the second degree, resisting arrest, and criminal possession of a weapon in the first degree. The range of punishment for these charges is a lifetime in prison to the death penalty."

The judge stopped then, letting the paper drop back down to his desk as he met James' eyes once again. "How does the defendant plead?"

"Guilty, your honor."

The entire crowd held their breath as they awaited the judge's verdict, wondering if he would immediately sentence James or set a date for another trial in which the penalty for his crimes would be dictated.

"Due to the inexplicable violence and indifference for human life shown in these charges, I hereby sentence the defendant to death by lethal injection."

The breath caught in his throat even though James had already considered the possible outcome of the death penalty, for he knew that it meant he would never again be able to see his sister; never again be able to protect her.

"Bailiff, please remove the defendant to his cell until the date of his lethal injection. Court is adjourned."