Josie's Chronicle

Chapter 22: Flies in the Buttermilk.

    Judge Ephraim H. Gant ruled his court with an iron gavel. He stood six foot, four inches tall, and wore tailor-made robes with African print collars. His hair was neatly coifed in two inch dreads on top with soft faded sides and a single two foot beaded plait hanging down his back. The beads were handmade, imported from the Republic of Panama. They were testament to his multiracial DNA. His skin always appeared sun-kissed, even in winter. He strived to be an impressive sight sitting on the bench. He'd honed his judgment skills for almost twenty years and was pretty damn proud of his record of fairness and impartiality.
He began each day standing before the mirror in his office and voicing a prayer to be just and ever mindful "that there but by the grace of God, am I behind the bench and not in front of it."
  This morning was his turn to preside over bond bearings. He was one of four judges who rotated this duty. It wasn't at the top of his list. It could make for a long and uneventful day. However, it was far better than divorce court, which caused him to check his husband status each and every time. His wife enjoyed it when he drew divorce court and would make herself available to reassure him that she wasn't going anywhere and that he was truly a very good husband.
He cleared his thoughts. Said Amen and left his office to begin his day.
  The first ten cases were almost textbook, easy peasy, but soon he was face to face with Joseph Amos Williams.

   Joe hadn't slept well the two nights he'd been in jail. He was in a foul mood, and the sight of the large black man did nothing to improve it.
Two hours passed, and now it was his turn to stand in front of the judge, who was carefully reading the charges out loud so smoothly Joe was offended.

"How do you plead?" Judge Gant asked without looking up at him.

Joe cleared his throat and forcefully said, "Not guilty to any of those charges."
Judge Gant looked up but said nothing to Joe.

  The DA spoke so rapidly that Joe almost didn't hear that he recommended that no bail be set because the accused was a flight risk.

   Joe looked at his attorney, who wasn't objecting.
Joe yelled, "Mr. Judge. I didn't do any of this stuff. I didn't make my wife disappear and..."
  "Quiet, Mr. Williams. Your attorney has submitted a plea deal. In it, you take an Alfod Plea because you don't have a plausible alibi for the day your daughter was shot, nor can you tell us where you were when your wife disappeared. You have also admitted to domestic violence on both your wife and daughter. And, if I'm understanding this correctly,  you admitted to kidnapping?"

Joe took a deep breath. "I didn't kidnap no body, Judge. I admit that I found a boy child beside his dead mom, and I admit to giving that boy to a good home. But it wasn't a kidnapping. I even found the little girl a home, and it wasn't my fault that she died." Joe's attempt to appear contrite was failing. He could sense that no one in the room heard him. He forcibly nudged his attorney with his elbow.

"Mr. Williams, there is no need to assault your attorney." Judge Gant nodded towards the deputy standing by the wall, and the woman moved to place herself between Joe and his attorney.
Joe frowned. He shook his head slowly. Why are there so my females doing men's jobs? Joe didn't say anything out loud, but his disdain showed on his face.
   The judge tapped his gavel. "Bail is denied. Mr. Williams, you will be traveling to another court district to face other charges. The Alford plea is on hold until the dust has settled."
  Judge Gant folded his hands. "Mr. Palmer, please advise your client that his job in court is to speak when spoken to, am I clear?"
The man nodded. Joe groaned.
  Judge Gant tapped his gavel, "Let's break for lunch."

I I~

"Daniel Seawell!"

He'd heard her but chose to pretend that he hadn't. He continued to scroll through his text messages.