As a prosecutor, Brent started with good intentions. Hearing that guilty verdict fed his insatiable desire for revenge on his father and foster mother's killer(s). The cops hadn't caught the son-of-a-bitch, so Brent took judgment on killers; he hadn...
"Objection, your honor!" I said. "His previous arrest is irrelevant."
"Dizzy," the judge said, crossing his arms. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Judge, this defendant is a lifelong criminal."
"Objection," I said, slapping the table. "Stop demeaning my client, Dizzy."
"Counsel will remember to address the court, not each other."
"The prosecution should focus on the facts of this case," I said.
"This nonsense is going to stop," Judge Stevens warned. "Move on with your presentation, Dizzy."
I returned to the edge of my chair, ready to spring up again.
"Mr. Jackson savagely murdered..."
"Objection, your honor!"
"What?"
"Dizzy is asserting opinions."
"Mr. Mason, you'll have time to refute the prosecution's claims."
I returned to my seat for the second time.
"As I was saying," Dizzy told the jury. "Mr. Franklin shot former-state Senator Franklin. He"—Dizzy extended his arm with his finger focused on Oldtimer—"murdered a good man. A man of God. A man who took in foster children. Mr. Jacskson has been in prison fights and—"
"Objection, your honor," I said.
"What now, Mason?"
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"Dizzy said fights. Mr. Jackson defended himself like any man would do," I said.
"See," Dizzy told the jury. "Mr. Jackson has an excuse for everything. But there's no excuse for the murder of Mr. Franklin."
I noticed a tear spread a juror's face. Dizzy made the son-of-a-bitch look like an angel. Oldtimer wouldn't have murdered him unless he did the things he's accusing him of, right? I'd begun to question my thoughts. Even I fought back a lump in my throat. I'd forgotten how good of a lawyer Dizzy was. Going up against him won't be easy, and I realized this trial was going to be the toughest yet. I'd met Dizzy in law school. We used to be close, so close that I let him drive my car, and I even went to his house for Thanksgiving. But now, we are enemies. One of us trying to put a guy on death row and the other, fighting for his innocence. Dizzy knew of my love for Peggy and my hate for conservative judges. Dizzy and I had traded secrets, dark secrets, but now we're fighting for the life and death of a man I believed to be innocent.
I leaned back in my chair, stroking my chin.
"Pictures tell a story. And these pictures scream murder," Dizzy said as he placed the crime scene photos before the jury with tears trickling down his cheeks.
I taught Dizzy to show emotion with the jury and to pull at their heartstrings. I taught the guy more than I should have. After spending five years in prison I was rusty, but my hope was to save Oldtimer's life and retire. This is my last case, and I can't lose it, especially not to Dizzy.
