Innocent

Chapter 3: The Trial

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.”

George R.R Martin, Game of Thrones

        It was time for my trial. The possibility of going to jail, for a crime I never committed was very possible. I had to first, convince a judge and everyone else in the room that I was innocent; even though all signs point to me. I entered the court room, to see a full house. Every seat was occupied, the court, the jury, were all there. Along with many witnesses, including my parents, and many parents of the kids I went to school with. In a corner, separate from the politics of the courthouse, were several classmates. People I had went to school with, and known forever. They acted like I was a stranger they had never seen before. Thomas led me through the crowd, and past several news reporters looking for a story. The paparazzi snapped photos from a close distance, there flashing lights blinded me.

        "Your going to be all right." Thomas said loud enough only for me to hear. l sit down and wait for the judge to speak.

        Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail as she took her seat. She couldn't have been more than thirty-five, and her cheeks were tear-stained as she started to speak.

        "My name is Judge Kennish. I will be reviewing this case. The victim's name is Senator Jake Kennish, the possible murderer will now defend her case on how she did not commit her murder. I will let her speak."

        "My name is Isabelle. I am thirteen years old, and I did not murder Senator Kennish. I am innocent." I paused, and waited before speaking. The audience was silent, hanging on my every word. I had them hooked, they needed to hear what I was saying. Now came the most important part. Convincing them.

        "I was at school, when I was called to the office. I was told that I was going home and that my parents were in the parking lot. I went to the parking lot, and there was only a single black van waiting. A man came out of the van, he pointed a gun at me and told me to get in the van. I got in the van, and he drove me to an alley. He pulled me out of the car, when there was a black limo already waiting in the alley. Out of the limo, a man came out, Jake Kennish. He came up to me, and asked my kidnapper who I was. My kidnapper then takes his gun and shoots him. He then, handed me the gun and took off. Moments later, the cops arrived and here I am." I finish, putting my trust in the judge's hands.

        She looked unconvinced. "So your telling me, my hubsand, a good man was meeting up with your kidnapper and was then shot?" Her blue eyes focused themselves on me, as if I was the target at a gun range. Fury rose up in me, as the judge looked me at me, her ignorance and anger clouding her decision. 

        "Are you sure, Judge Kennish, that you should be a judge for this case? I think your anger will cloud your judgement. You are just looking for someone to blame for the death of your hubsand. I am sorry, about your hubsand, I truly am. But that gives you no right to automatically blame me for your troubles. I did not kill your hubsand, I was a witness that is it!" I demanded. I knew, yelling at a court judge, could get me in serious trouble, but at this point I didn't care. This judge was misjudging me without hearing me out. I couldn't let myself go to jail for something I didn't do. 

        "Well why don't we let the court decide Isabelle?!" She said angrily, she slammed her mallet on the stand and left. The crowd began to whisper as an offical tried to calm everyone down. Thomas put his hand on my shoulder, "Get up, we need to go." I nodded and calmly walked down the path made for me. I looked at my parents, as I walked towards them, just hoping to speak to them even if it was the last time.

        "Mom! Dad!" I yelled, they looked at me, closely examining me as if they were wondering if it was me. If this kid in hand cuffs could ever be there daughter. Our eyes met, and my parents suddenly turned away ashamed. I continued to walk, as my parents kept their heads turned, refusing to acknowledge my existence. How could they do this to me? Me, their own daughter, their own flesh and blood. My own parents had turned away from. The betrayal felt like I was being stabbed with a thousand swords, each stabbing me slowly, as if they wanted me to feel the pain. To feel the burn. I was dying, slowly, but steadily. My world was falling apart at the seams right in front of me and all I could do was watch. Everything was being ripped away from me in a instant, my friends, my family, my life. It was a wave beating against the shore, beating against the sand, and then pulling away and taking a piece of me with it. I was becoming air, invisible, ever-present, a witness to my own defeat. My story was spiraling downwards, I was going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of despair, and I couldn't find my way back to the surface.

        I exited the court room, with lights flashing at me. A reporter approached me, his bouncy brown curls and squeaky room made her the perfect person to interview me.

        "Isabelle! Isabelle! Isabelle!" The reporter called out to me, I felt like punching her, I couldn't handle anymore today. Thomas whispered in my ear, "Ignore her, kid. Just keep walking." It was good advice, too bad I didn't plan on taking it. I stopped abruptly and turned and looked at the reporter expectantly, as if motioning "what?" She looked shocked that someone would stop so she could ask questions. "Well, I don't have all day!" I said rudely at her. She snapped out of it, and nodded. "Isabelle, tell me are you innocent?"

        I gave her my are-you-freaking-kidding-me-have-we-not-covered-this look, and replied.
"I am innocent. I didn't kill that Senator, I am a victim just like everyone else. I had to witness him being killed. I had to get in the van with a murderer, and wonder if I was going to live today. Instead of receiving some therapy or some kind of help, I get officers and FBI agents trying to imprison me and put me in jail. Almost no one has given my statement any thought: I am innocent. Okay? That is the truth. I am just as much a victim like anyone else. If justice is served tomorrow, when the judge tells me I am going home, then I will be happy. If that judge lets her anger cloud her judgement, and she and the jury can't see my innocence then I will know the kind of country America is." I stormed off, furious as I followed Thomas back to the police car.

        Thomas opened the police door as I got in. He started driving and we were both silent.

        "Izzy, I want you to know, that I will always be there for you, no matter what the outcome." Thomas said, his soft blue eyes looked at me through the rear-view mirror. I nodded slightly at Thomas, who at the moment was my only friend in this situation. We arrived at the police station, and Thomas tooks his keys and unlocked the door. He pointed to an empty cell that had a single blanket and pillow. "I'm sorry but your parents didn't want to bail you out. So you are going to have to spend the night here, until tomorrow when the jury makes their decision." He said feeling sorry for me. At this point, I didn't want his pity, I just wanted justice.