Trial

Honorable Mention - The Classic Story Contest - Spring 2008


Candace Davis sat in the courtroom and gazed at the man in the defendant's chair.  His face was a bit more wrinkled, but his short spiky hair and thin, down-turned lips were the same.  When he turned toward the attorney at his side and Candy saw those cruel, mocking eyes, a chill went through her.  Her heart pounded and she felt the same impulse to run that she had felt over thirty years ago.

In her memory, she traveled back to that warm spring day.  She was nearing the end of the fourth grade and her ten-year-old mind had been fascinated by the courting dance of the birds as she walked home from school.

She supposed she had heard the car approaching, but had paid no attention.  It was not unusual on the suburban streets.  She continued to saunter along, watching the birds flit among the budding branches.

"Hey, little girl," a voice called.

She turned and found herself looking into those cold, cruel eyes.  His right arm was crossed over his left and came out of the car window.  Horrified, she saw a gun pointed directly at her.  She whirled around and began to run.  She felt a stinging, burning sensation in her back, and the spring world went black.

When she returned to consciousness, she was in a hospital room, her family gathered around the bed peering anxiously down at her.

Over the next few days, she learned that several other schoolgirls and an eighty-year-old grandmother, working in her yard, had all been shot that afternoon.  She and one other had survived, but two little girls and the old lady had died of their wounds.

Even though she recuperated quickly enough, her life was not the same.  How long had she lived in fear?  She was afraid to go to school.  She was afraid to go outdoors and play.  Nightmares of his evil eyes haunted her sleep.

Eventually, the culprit had been arrested.  He had been tried and convicted of the murder of the three victims who had died.  When he was sentenced to ninety-nine years and moved to the state penitentiary, Candy began to feel better.  Ninety-nine years was a long time.  Surely he would die in prison.  Even if he didn't, he'd be well over a hundred by the time he got out.  Surely that would be too old to hurt anybody.  As the months slipped into years, Candy began to relax.

Just a few months earlier, a small item in the evening paper caught her eye.  'Williams To Be Released in 2009' read the headline.  With pounding pulse and rapid breath, Candy read the article.

'Malcolm Lee Williams, convicted of murder in 1976 and sentenced to ninety-nine years in state prison, is due to be released in April of 2009.  The law in place at the time of his conviction limited his sentence to ninety-nine years maximum and provided three to one credit for "good time" served.'

"Oh, no!" Candy cried out, staring in horror at the printed page.

Her husband, Bill, looked up from the Sports Section,  "What's wrong, honey?"

"You remember that guy I told you about," she said, struggling for breath.  "The one who went on a shooting spree and shot several people and three of them died and that I, too, was shot?"

"Yeah.  What about him?"

"Well, it says here that he's to be released in 2009!"

Bill frowned.  "How can that be?  I thought he got life."

"I did too!  But according to what it says here, that's not the case.  He was sentenced to ninety-nine years but at three to one good time.  For every year he served, as long as he didn't get into any trouble, he got credit for three."  She sucked in a rasping breath.  "Oh, God!  What am I going to do?"

Bill dropped his paper and rushed to her side.  Perching on the arm of her chair, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.  "Now, now, honey.  Take it easy," he said soothingly.

"But don't you see," she cried, beseeching eyes searching his face.  "What if he comes back to finish what he started?  He may try to kill me!  Again!"

"Now, now," he murmured softly.  "You don't want to panic.  Think of it this way.  It's been thirty years.  That's a long time.  Things have changed.  You've changed!  He probably didn't even know your name then but, even if he did, that's changed too."

Candy felt the panic ease a little and she sighed.  "I suppose . . . you're probably right.  I'm just getting myself all worked up for nothing."

"Of course I'm right," he assured her.

For a long time they sat, her head resting against his side and his hand patting her shoulder.  Finally, with a deep sigh, she rose to her feet.  "I guess I'll just try not to think about it."

"Good girl," Bill smiled.  "That's the best thing."

Candy pushed all thoughts of Williams from her conscious mind, but deep in her subconscious, the fear of impending danger smoldered.  She found herself jumping at sudden sounds and, whenever she went out, she was constantly glancing over her shoulder.

One day in early summer she sat down with the newspaper and a headline grabbed her attention.  'Williams Charged with Murder for Hire'.  Voraciously she devoured the article.

'A Grand Jury today brought an indictment of murder for hire against Malcolm Lee Williams.  Williams, who is serving time in state prison for a 1976 murder conviction, allegedly made arrangements to have Lawrence W. Harrison, the Assistant District Attorney who prosecuted him, and Sgt. John P. Morgan, his arresting officer, killed.'  The article ended with the statement 'if convicted, Williams could receive a sentence of up to life imprisonment.'

"Oh, God," Candy pleaded.  "Please let them convict him.  Please let them put him away for good."

She picked up the paper and walked into the garage where Bill was just putting away the lawn mower.  "Look at this," she said, passing him the paper and pointing to the article.

He quickly read it and looked up at her inquiringly.  "Same guy?"

She nodded.  "I hope they get him on this.  I hope they keep him locked up forever."

"Well, maybe they will.  It says here he could get life."

Candy set her jaw and spoke through clenched teeth.  "This time, I hope it's life without parole."

As the weeks passed Candy daily scanned the paper for word about the trial. 

Finally, in July, she saw what she'd been watching for.  Under 'Courthouse Schedule' was listed, 'Murder for Hire trial of Malcolm Lee Williams is scheduled to begin August 10, 2008.'

A few days later the phone rang and, when she picked it up, a stranger's voice asked, "Mrs. Candace Davis?"

"Yes," she replied hesitantly.

"Are you the former Candace Turner?"

Candy's heart began to pound furiously.  "Who are you?"  She asked sharply.  "And why do you want to know?"

"I'm sorry," the young man's voice said with a nervous laugh.  "I really should have identified myself right off - before I started asking questions.  My name is Lance Ward and I work in the DA's Office.  I'm trying to locate the Candace Turner who was a shooting victim in 1976."

A long sigh of relief escaped Candy's lips.  "Yes, yes, I am that Candace Turner."

"Good!  I've found you."

"Why were you looking?"

"Oh, sorry.  I was asked to call you and ask if you'd be willing to serve as a witness at the upcoming trial of Malcolm Williams."

Candy's heart felt as if it were pounding in her throat and choking off all her breath. 
Could she sit across a courtroom and look into that hateful face?  She had never been face to face with him since the day she'd been shot.  When she'd identified him before, it had been in a police line-up where she could see him but he couldn't see her.  "Why me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The DA that's been assigned to the case thinks that the testimony of yourself and the other surviving victim would make a stronger case."

"But it was so long ago . . ."

"Yes, but, you see, Williams was never charged for those shootings - just the ones of those that died.  What with the new evidence of the murder for hire and the previous attacks, we could better demonstrate that Williams was, and still is, a dangerous man."

"He is a dangerous man."

"Certainly, he is.  And wouldn't you like to see him put away so that he is never again a threat to society?"

"Nothing would make me any happier."

"So you'll testify?"

Candy sighed.  "I'll do everything I can."

"Good.  The DA will want to meet with you at some point to go over your testimony."

"Okay."

"We'll call you a few days before the trial to set up an appointment."


Candy kept her appointment with the DA and on the morning of August 10th found herself sitting in the courtroom looking at the man she'd not seen in more than thirty years.  A shiver passed through her body.

The jury filed in and took their seats.  Candy stood with everyone else at the "All Rise!" command, watched the judge in flowing robe step up behind the bench.

He sat down and nodded his permission for them to resume their seats.  After consulting a folder on his desk, he announced, "The case of the State vs. Malcolm Lee Williams is about to be heard.  Is the Prosecution ready to give its opening statement?"

The lead prosecutor jumped to his feet.  "We are, Your Honor."

"Proceed."

Candy kept glancing at the clock and trying to control the writhing nervousness of her stomach as the procedural formalities droned on and on.  When would she be called?  If only she could just tell her story and get it over with.

Her heart pounded as the judge instructed,  'The Prosecution may call it's first witness,' then leaped when the DA rose and said, "The Prosecution calls Mrs. Candace Turner Davis."

On rubbery legs with trembling knees, she left her seat and walked through the gate in the rail.  She felt the menacing eyes of the defendant boring into her as she crossed to where the bailiff held out a Bible.  Completing her oath, she stepped up into the Witness Box and took her seat, hoping that her internal agitation didn't show.

The DA looked up at her and gave her an encouraging smile.  "Now, for the Court Record, would you please state your name."

"My name is Candace Turner Davis."

"Mrs. Davis, could you tell the Court why you are testifying here today?"

"Yes, I am here because I was a victim of a 1976 shooting."

"Tell me, do you see the person who committed that act here in the courtroom today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you point him out for us, please, Mrs. Davis?"  Candy pointed to Williams.  "Let the Record show that Mrs. Davis had indicated the defendant," he told the clerk.  "And, Mrs. Davis, you identified him as your assailant at the time of the occurrence?"

"Yes, sir.  My parents took me to the police station for a line-up.  I pointed him out there."

The DA nodded.  "Now, Mrs. Davis, would you please tell the court, in your own words, exactly what happened on that day."

Candy related her story, answered a few follow-up questions and the DA announced, "Defense's witness."

"Would Defense Counsel like to interview this witness?" the judge asked.

The Defense lawyer bobbed up out of her chair.  "No questions, Your Honor."

The judge turned to Candy and smiled.  "The Witness may step down."

Candy left the stand, returned to her seat and breathed a sigh of relief.  Well, she thought, the worst is over.

"The Prosecution calls Ms Judith Ann Hayden to the stand."

Candy glanced around the room, but no one was moving.  She saw the bailiff go to a side door, open it and beckon.  A tall, thin woman with dark hair crossed the room her gaze steadily on the floor in front of her.

Is this the same little girl that I saw at that line-up? Candy wondered.

When the woman took the stand and began her testimony, Candy soon learned that she was indeed the other surviving victim.  Candy listened intently as she identified Williams as her attacker and began to tell her story.

"We were walking home from school - I was with my eight-year-old sister and a friend of mine - when this green car pulled up beside us.  We turned and saw that the man driving had his arm out of the window and a gun in his hand.  'Is that a real gun,' we asked, 'or is it just a toy?'"  The woman shivered, took a deep breath and continued.  "He gave this really malevolent smile.  I'll never forget those glittering eyes.  Suddenly, I stumbled and fell.  I remember wondering why.  I didn't realize that I'd been shot.  My sister and friend were trying to pick me up when he sped away."

Candy fought back her tears as she listened to a story so like her own.  The DA concluded his examination and the Defense Counsel rose.

"Tell me, Ms. Hayden," she said with a sarcastic little smile.  "How is it that you can be so positive in your identification of my client as your assailant today when you were unable to pick him out of a line-up thirty years ago?"

"Oh, I recognized him then, too, but I was scared!" the witness cried.  "I'll never forget his face!  It's haunted my dreams for years!"

"But why were you so scared?" the attorney asked sweetly.  "My client was already in jail, was he not?"

"I knew he was in jail, but I was still scared because . . . because I was afraid he'd get out and come back to kill me!"

The Defense attorney shrugged.  "No further questions, Your Honor."

As soon as she was dismissed, the witness hurried out of the courtroom.  The judge called for a lunch recess and the courtroom began to empty.

Candy left the courthouse and paused to survey her option of restaurants.  Deciding on a salad bar across the street, she hurried over and claimed one of the few remaining empty tables.  After ordering a club salad and iced tea, she dug into her purse for her cell phone.  She selected Bill's office number and listened to it ring.

"Hi, honey," she said when he answered.  "I'm still at the courthouse."

"Have they called you yet?"

"Yep, first one up!  I'm really glad to have it over with.  Now, at least, my lunch should stay down."

"How'd it go?"

"Okay, I guess.  They also called the other girl."

"Oh?  So are you heading home now?"

"That's why I called.  I think I'm going to stay for the rest of it."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"I think so.  I want to see what that new charge is all about."

"Okay.  It's up to you."

"I'll see you this evening then."

Candy disconnected just as her salad was brought to the table.  She glanced at her watch.  She had plenty of time to enjoy it.  The judge had said one o'clock.

By one o'clock Candy was back in the courtroom much more relaxed than she had been in the morning.  Soon all of the officials returned and took their places.

"The Prosecution calls Franklin Latham."

Candy watched a muscular man dressed in an open-necked dress shirt and slacks as he rose and walked toward the railing.  As he was being sworn in, Candy guessed him to be about thirty-five years old.  When he was seated in the Witness Box, the DA approached.

"Now, Mr. Franklin, would you please explain to the Court what your involvement is with this case?"

"I'd be glad to," he answered, pulling a small pad out of his shirt pocket and glancing over it.  "In December of last year, I was an inmate at the state prison.  My records there showed that I was doing ten years for armed robbery.  It was a well-known fact among the other inmates that I was coming up for parole.  One of the inmates in that same cellblock was the defendant there, Malcolm Williams.  On December 9th, we had just got back from evening chow when this guy," he nodded toward the defendant.

"Let the Record show," the DA interjected, "that the Witness has indicated the defendant.  Now, Mr. Latham, please continue."

"As I was saying, Williams came over to my bunk.  He leans down and, in a very suggestive tone, says, 'You're up for parole in a few days, right?'  I confirmed his statement and he leans in closer.  'If you're willing to listen, I've got a proposition for you.'  I agreed to consider his deal and he continued.  'From what I hear around here,' he motioned with his head toward the rest of the block, 'you're no stranger to firearms.'  I answered that I had been known to pack a time or two.  He nodded.  'Good, so here's the deal.  There're a couple of guys on the outside that I'd like to cease breathing.  Now I'm not asking any favors here, you understand.  They gotta let me go in a couple o' years.  When they do, I'll do the same for you.  Two enemies, anyone you say.'  I agreed to the deal and he gives me the two names."

"What were those names?"

The witness consulted his pad.  "Lawrence Harrison and John Morgan."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He just told me where they'd been the last he'd heard.  A couple of days later, I was out of there."

"And now, Mr. Latham," the DA said with a smile.  "Will you please tell the court what your occupation was at the time and what you were really doing in that cellblock?"

"I was on assignment, working as an undercover investigator for the District Attorney's Office."

An audible gasp arose around the courtroom.  Candy felt her own sharp intake of breath and watched Williams turn ghostly pale.

After that shocking bit of testimony, the witness was soon dismissed and the Prosecutor rested his case.  Soon the Defense had taken over.

The attorney called a couple of the prison guards who swore that Williams was a mild-mannered, model prisoner who never made any trouble for any of them.  She then called the prison psychiatrist who stated that, in his opinion, Williams had been totally rehabilitated.  Then it was time for closing arguments.

The Prosecutor rose and moved toward the Jury Box.  "Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, Defense Counsel would have you believe that the defendant, Malcolm Lee Williams, has been rehabilitated; that he is not today the same murderous fiend who, thirty years ago, gunned down a five-year-old, an eight-year old, an eighty-year-old grandmother and wounded the two ten-year-old girls for which he was never prosecuted.  Those two little girls, now grown women, had the courage to come here today so that you could better understand the type of person that has been brought before you.

"As they testified, I'm sure you saw, as I did, the years melt away.  In the blink of an eye, they became little ten-year-old girls again as Mrs. Davis told you of being shot in the back as she ran and Ms Hayden related how she was brought down at close range.

"The defendant today is the same fiendish killer that he was thirty years ago.  We have shown you how he plotted to get his revenge on two of those responsible for putting him behind bars.  How many more will he slaughter when he is once again free to prey upon society?

"Yes, I say when, not if, he is released because he is now due for mandatory release in April 2009.  Only you, ladies and gentlemen, can prevent him the freedom to randomly kill our citizens.  I ask that you find him guilty of trying to hire the murder of two more people.  I ask that you recommend a sentence that will finally provide those two brave ladies - his former victims - some peace."

The DA returned to his place and the Defense Counsel reiterated how they had proved Williams' rehabilitation.

When she finished, the jury was charged and rose to follow the bailiff to the Jury Room.  As they entered the private room, Candy glanced up at the clock.  Only a few minutes after four.  She got up and wandered out into the corridor.  After slowly pacing back and forth for several minutes, she pulled out her phone and called Bill.

"Hi, I'm still at the courthouse."

"So how's it going?"

"They just gave it to the jury.  Surely they'll find him guilty."

"Don't get your hopes up.  Juries can be funny sometimes."

"But how can they not?  The guy he tried to hire in prison was an undercover investigator.  A professional, for God's sake!"

"May be, but still . . ."

"But it's not like he was just another inmate who traded his testimony for some kind of deal."

"I know, but I don't want you to get hyped up and then be disappointed if it doesn't work out."

"But it's got to work out!  He now knows my name, what I look like.  Everything!  If he's released next year, I'll go nuts!"

"Easy, easy.  Just stay calm and see what happens."

"Okay," she finally murmured.  "I'll try."

She ended the call and resumed pacing.  What if Williams wasn't convicted?  What if he got out next year?  Where could they go?  How could they hide?  The questions chased each other round and round in her mind.

Five o'clock came and passed.  At five-thirty, Candy went to the vending machines and got a bottle of juice and some cheese crackers.  She sat down on a bench, munched on the snack and continued to wait.

At six-fifteen a ripple of excitement flowed down the corridor.  "The jury's coming back."

Candy hurried back into the courtroom with the others.  The jurors were in place and the judge was on the bench.  When the murmur of voices, the shuffle of feet and the creaking of benches subsided, the judge rapped his gavel.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

A man at the end of the front row of the Jury Box rose from his seat.  "We have, Your Honor."

The judge nodded to the bailiff who crossed to the Jury Foreman, took the paper from his hand and returned it to the judge.

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath while he read.  Then he nodded his head and handed the paper back to the bailiff who returned it to the Foreman.

"Please read your verdict to the Court," the judge said.

"In the Case of the State vs. Malcolm Lee Williams, we, the Jury, find the defendant guilty of the Murder for Hire charge."

"And have you a sentence to recommend?"

"We have, Your Honor."

The judge nodded.  "Proceed."

"We, the Jury, recommend a sentence of life imprisonment, without possibility of parole."

Candy exhaled an explosive sigh of relief.  The constant buried fear she had lived with for thirty years as well as the near-panic of the last few months seemed to be suddenly lifted away from her.  She hurried from the courtroom, reached for her cell phone, and then changed her mind.  Although she could hardly wait to tell Bill, she really wanted to see his face when she did.


Word Count:  3939