A Collection of Stories

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

"Look, this just isn't believable. And I am not going to defend someone who has no chance. You're as good as dead, so just stop." The man in the gray suit spoke softly, as though this wasn't something I've heard a million times. He was tall, with dark hair and light eyes, and an impressive reputation as a lawyer. Mr. Brandon Smeid was a defense lawyer, and he was the only one I needed. "You aren't listening, Smeid. I didn't commit any crime. It wasn't me." My long hair shielded my face, and hid the tears that were beginning to form in my eyes. "I can't defend myself alone, and I know you believe me. You can help me." Smeid sighed and looked up at the sky, squinting as though he could somehow force the world to tell him how to deal with me. "No. I can't prove that you are innocent, I'm sorry but this isn't worth my time."

"Why the hell did you become a lawyer if not to defend innocent people?" I stood up straighter, daring him to respond.

"Listen, I-"

"Shut up. I'm going straight to death row if you don't help me. I  don't want a bullshit answer, I want an answer, a true, real answer."

He was silent, and sat completely still on his chair. I watched him through my cell bars. I was getting nowhere with this tactic. "Alright Brandon. At least answer this: what should I plan as my last meal?" I summoned tears, and waited for his response, which came soon after. "Fine. I'll help you, but don't expect success. You're not going to win. You're just going to drag me down with you. The trial starts in two weeks. Be ready." He began to walk away, but turned at the last second, "For your last meal, I recommend something new. And some pie." He smirked before continuing his trek away from my prison cell.

* **** * ******

"Miss Lamb, where were you the morning of April 12, 2002?" Smeig raised his eyebrows as his questions drew answers from my unwilling mouth.

"I was with a friend at my house."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Cindy. But she's shy, and wouldn't come today."

Mr. Smeid pursed his lips, obviously confused, as I had never  mentioned Cindy in our practice rounds of court. I smiled at him, signaling him to continue his questioning.

"And your mother, was she also in your home on April 12?"

"Yes. She was."

"Did you murder your mother?"

I looked directly at Smeid, answering him with disgust lacing my voice like poison. "No, sir, I didn't kill her."

He nodded, "Do you know who did?"

I rolled my eyes. This trial was really starting to take a toll on my sanity. "No." Lying under oath probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I wasn't ready to reveal Cindy's actions. She and I were practically family.

For the last 14 days Brandon had been coaching me on answers and today, the day of my trial, I decided to be my own person.

"No further questions, Your Honor." Smeid turned back to his seat, but I stopped him. "Wait. Your Honor, do I have permission to speak freely?" The old judge turned towards me, nodding his approval.

"None of you know who I am. You don't know what I go through on a daily basis. You don't understand the emotions I feel. I sense things. I know things, things that you could only ever dream of. I didn't kill anyone, Cindy did. I can't do this anymore. I can't live separated as I am."

The courtroom was quiet, spellbound by my words.

"I'm done." And with those words, I allowed Cindy to take over.

Looking around at the lifeless room, I can see that there was probably a cleaner way to rid myself of my small problems, but who likes cleanliness when efficiency is at stake? I smirked, and tripped over something. It felt like Smeid; someone smaller thanks  the judge, who was pudgy. Past tense. Now everyone but Cindy and I  are past tense.

And even she is innocent until proven guilty.

-Green

It's Blue's turn to take the stage and blow your socks off!