HARMONY

Part 49 "All Rise"

 

 "All rise!"

The courtroom players took their places. In the gallery, Claire sat beside Audra. In front of them, Michelle sat next to Russ while Steve took a place in the back row. On the other side of the aisle, Bruce's shadow-faced parents glared directly at the back of Drew's head.

Passing time in the suffocating cells had slowly sucked away Drew's sanity. He hated waking up and cursed his very breath. He'd been taunted, threatened and teased. He'd been punched, kicked and choked. Fear became a shadow crawling on the wall—a serpent circling in a constant presence of potential pain. In the moments he didn't pray for death, he prayed his injuries wouldn't be permanent.

Sitting at the defendant's table, Drew found his escape by focusing on every cell in his body. He learned the bruises to his flesh healed in stages of color—purple yielding to green. It was the cracking of his bones he feared. As if reading his x-ray, he visualized the ribs surrounding his organs. He tried to picture them whole, but they always snapped in his mind's eye. He shivered. Would they pierce through his skin? What if a splinter punctured his heart? Could the deputy find him in time?

Mercilessly, Drew's exhausted mind was dragged back into the courtroom by the claws of the opening statements. The prosecutor, in his pressed suit, strutted with long, confident strides as he told the story of a retarded girl being raped and her brother rushing in to save her. The accusations threw Drew into the bonfire of rape and murder.

"The undisputed facts of the case will prove that Drew Kingsley needs to spend the rest of his life in jail for rape." The prosecutor paused to let the word float about the tiny courtroom. "Of a defenseless girl and the cold blooded murder of her brother." Mr. Cain returned to his seat behind the table and smoothed his tie.

Rosalia stood and smiled gently in Drew's direction before approaching the jury. With the precision of Arachne, she wove a tapestry of Drew's innocence. She brought in threads of his character, intelligence and clean record.

"Hard evidence," she said, standing directly in front of Drew with her gaze pleading to each juror. "Will tie the knots together to show Drew is not a rapist. He is not a murderer. He is a model citizen who did what any of us would have done."

Drew had glanced up upon hearing his name, but he dropped his head when the boulders 'rapist' and 'murder' landed at his feet. Rosalia returned to his side and wrote, 'you're doing great' on a yellow pad. He couldn't will his fingers to write back.

The prosecution's parade of witnesses began with the doctors. They testified to the crack in Bruce's skull and the blood clots that ended his life. Poster-sized photographs displayed the gruesome evidence.

Police testified about Drew's confession of smashing Bruce in the skull with a lamp. "Did Drew have injuries which warranted medical attention?"

"No sir."

The second round included the party witnesses who confirmed Drew ran from the room when they caught him and held him for the police.

"Did you note any blood coming from Drew?"

"No."

"Any bruises?"

"No."

"Any red marks around his neck?"

One girl on the stand paused. "Ya. Some. His face was like all red and kinda sweaty like he'd been running or something and his neck was kinda pink."

Drew looked up and faintly recognized Samantha—a girl in his physics class from a time long ago. She twisted her hands together.

"No further questions, your honor," Mr. Cain said.

Rosalia smoothed her black tailored skirt. She engaged the jury, looking casually in their direction. She approached the witness.

"Thank you for coming today," Rosalia said. "I'm sure having to relive this is difficult."

Samantha nodded and bit at a fingernail.

Rosalia used a motherly tone. "Can you be a little more specific about what you saw on his neck?"

"Objection. Leading the witness."

"Objection sustained."

"You stated that Drew's neck was kind of pink. Can you please describe exactly what you remember about any markings on Drew's neck?"

"Well, like I said, he was all red and kinda sweaty and he looked, sorta freaked out. All I remember about his throat is these super red, I don know, like long marks."

"As if someone had had their hands wrapped around his throat?"

"Objection."

"Your honor, the witness is young and obviously struggling with the anxiety of revisiting this difficult topic. I ask for a little leeway."

"Objection overruled. Continue your questioning."

"Thank you, your honor." Rosalia put her hand on the witness stand. "Have you ever used a curling iron?"

Samantha smiled. "Ya, I curl my bangs."

"Have you ever burned yourself, accidently, with a curling iron?"

"Oh ya, tons of times."

"What does that look like?"

"It leaves like this long red streak on my forehead." She drew an imaginary line.

A few of the female jurors chuckled.

"Is that anything like what you saw on Drew's neck that night?"

Samantha sat quietly for a moment. She looked at Drew. "Ya." She nodded. "His neck had deep red lines." She paused again.

"Thank you Samantha."

Samantha stood and looked for her mother, but Mr. Cain approached the bench. "I'm sorry Samantha, but I get to ask you a few more questions. It's called a redirect."

"Oh, okay," she said.

"About these red marks," he said. "You said you saw them when the big cop lifted him up?"

"Ya, um, that's when I clearly saw them."

"And that was after he'd been tackled and held down by some of the other kids at the party?"

"Ya. That's when I clearly saw them, but I think I saw them when he was being held down too."

"Did you see Drew right after he left the room?"

"No."

"Did you see him before the kids tackled him?"

"No."

"So, the first time you saw Drew, he was already being held down by the kids at the party?"

Drew recognized where the D.A. was going with these questions. As the reality hit him, he felt like his skeleton dissolved under his skin. Each bone disintegrating in turn. First his skull, then his spine, next the big bones—his arms, his legs. All turning to a white little powdery dust to be carried away by the slightest breeze. Gone. Forever.

"There was like this big commotion and everyone was yelling fight! So I followed them toward the stairs and that's when I first saw Drew."

"And he was being forcefully held down on the ground by the kids?"

Samantha twisted her hair. "It all happened so fast."

"And you're doing a great job. Just want to be clear when you first saw those red marks."

"Oh," she said. "I first saw those red marks when...when the big cop lifted him up."