The Case

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please pay close attention to what I am about to tell you.
The prosecutor will do his best to sway you to believe that this case is about a pre-meditated murder. He will do his level best to have you believe that my client, this young innocent child, committed this said murder.” I looked each juror in the eye, assessing as I spoke. I do believe this is my jury.
I stood taller, smoothed the jacket of my Armani suit. With a swagger of confidence, I approached and placed my hands on top of the rail of the jury box as I continued.
  “Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to keep an open mind, to look at the facts of this case and not be swayed. It is up to the prosecution to prove to you beyond a doubt that my client is guilty. The burden of proof lies on his side of the court, and on my side? I will show you how an innocent child happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and made the wrong choice.”

    I made my way back to the defense table. My client smiled at  me with a bold look in her eyes, one which seemed out of place on a child. It made me stumble for a moment. Had I read her correctly? I wasn’t sure. When I looked at her now she appeared to be the child that she is...I sat, unable to look her way.
My opponent stood, his suit looking rather rumpled as he strode purposefully to the jury box.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, look at the defendant!” He bellowed as he swept his arm across the courtroom to land on my client.
A very pretty, petit girl. Her red hair hung in long spirals of curls with short bangs. Her dark blue eyes stayed on the prosecutor, never wavering from his face.
“ I know, I know, you think you see a child,” he continued, “ innocent or guilty, she is still a child. But I will prove... no, the evidence will prove to you that she is guilty as charged. The young people today are committing serious adult crimes and this child, this eleven year old, took the life of a ten year old girl in broad daylight.
      Yes the burden of proof lies with me, it lies with the justice system, and I will do my job and show you the evidence. And your job will be to come together with a verdict of guilty.”
           

    While the D.A. gave his opening statement, I watched the reaction of the jurors. This was an important case. This was a front page, prime time news, career making/breaking, ball buster of a case. This case demanded my attention, and my main focus. Yet I struggled. My mind wandered to  strange places. Like short film clips, I don’t get to see the entire scene played out, just glimpses of events in some one else’s life, through their eyes, not mine.
    My name is Paul Roark and I am a defense attorney. My firm is in San Francisco, Nobb hill. I have been practicing law here for fifteen years. I am divorced and the father of two sons. My ex-wife and boys are now living in Upstate, New York. A world away from me. It’s been six months since I have seen Sean and Liam. I wonder if I am missing them so much that I am imagining what they might be doing in New York, and this is where my mind wanders? Could be, I suppose.  I am snapped back to the present with the judges words.
      “Mr. Roberts? Are you prepared to call your witness?” Judge Henry asked.
“Yes, Your Honor, I am. The prosecution calls Mrs. Diane Bell to the stand.”
        A tall, slender woman in a deep yellow dress came from the back of the courtroom. Her demeanor told me she was a shy person. Her black hair tied in a severe pony tail, no makeup, that I could discern, and brown shiny flats on her feet. She clutched a brown handbag in a white knuckled grip.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth so help you God?”
“I do.”
        I watched Mrs. Bell as the prosecutor approached her. She seemed nervous, her eyes darting first to the jury and then to my client.
“Mrs. Bell, please tell the court what you do for a living.”
“I teach eighth level at Jefferson Middle School.”
“How long have you taught there?” Dennis Roberts glanced at the jury for their reaction.
“Ten years.”
“Always the same level?”
“No, I have taught at three different levels over my years at Jefferson.”
“Oh? What levels did you teach?”
  “Objection, Your Honor. Relevance.” I said as I stood.
“Sustained. Come to the point, Mr. Roberts.” Judge Henry ordered.
“Yes, Your Honor. Mrs. Bell, was the defendant in all three levels?”
“Yes. Yes, she was, sir.”
“So you were able to observe the defendant on a daily basis. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever, in the three years you had this young lady in your classroom, did you ever see her do anything, did she strike out at anyone or bully another student?”
“Yes. On one occasion.” Her voice sounded strained, and quavered at the end.
“Who was at the receiving end of her bullying?”
“The deceased, Carla Richmond.”
At the shocked voices raised in the courtroom, Judge Henry banged his gavel repeatedly. I truly hoped no one was looking at the expression on my face as I stared at my client. My countenance must have been horrifying for her to see, because she shrunk back in her chair, pulling as far away from me as the room allowed.

“Your Honor! Your Honor!” I shouted over the din of the courtroom.
“Silence! I will have quiet in my court!” Judge Henry shouted at the gallery while his gavel banged relentlessly.
  As the spectators quieted; I glanced toward the jury pool. I had just lost my jury to the prosecution.
Dennis Roberts smiled at me as I sat back down in my chair. Alright, so now I have to fight a bit harder. The fact that my client lied to me, led me to believe that she did not have any contact with Carla Richmond, other than the day of her death, sets me back a bit.
“Your Honor, may I have a recess to confer with my client?”
I heard Dennis say “I’ll bet you’d love a recess.” under his breath. I ignored him.
“This court will recess until 10:00am. Another outburst and I will declare a closed court.” Judge Henry banged his gavel once more.
  Jonna Hillary was led to an antechamber on the main floor. The guard released her into my custody. Just the two of us now. I didn’t say a word, nor did she. Jonna didn’t even look up to see the anger on my face.
With this thirty minute recess I felt I could sit and glare for at least two minutes. Now she raised her eyes to search mine.
“Jonna, you told me you had no contact with the deceased other than the day in question.  How do you explain what just happened? Did you bully her? How could you not know that your teacher would be called in to testify? You are not some silly little girl.”
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Roark. That happened five years ago, when I first came to this school. That witch Mrs. Bell blew it all out of proportion. It was not that big of a deal. I swear.”
“Tell me what happened. Tell me everything, Jonna, don’t let me get surprised like that again.” I admonished her.
“Yes, sir.” She hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of where to begin. Her lips quivered as she took a deep breath and looked up into my eyes.
“I had only been in this school for one week. That first two weeks was the only time Carla was in the same class with me. She had teased me during recess every day for that first whole week. I simply told her to think over the weekend, think really hard, and decide if she wanted to keep teasing me the next week. She laughed at me, said she would say and do whatever she wanted. I told her she might just want to rethink that, and leave me alone.” She looked out the window for a minute. I just let tell me in her own way.
“She said she would tease me until I left Jefferson and that my kind was not wanted there.”
I interrupted her at this point, at my surprise at her statement. “Your kind? What did she mean by that?”
“I don’t know. I asked her, but she just laughed at me. So I said, ‘You’ll be sorry if you don’t leave me alone.’ and I went back inside.”
“You threatened her? What did Mrs. Bell say?” I asked her, beginning to be concerned here.
“She sent me to the principle’s office.” She squirmed in her chair.
“What is it, Jonna? What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing, Mr. Roark. That’s all that happened. It’s just that I already told you all of this when I first met you.” Her eyes pleaded with me to believe her, and I wanted to, I really did, but, something was just not right. I know I never heard any of this before today.
At a knock on the door, I figured our time was up, but I was wrong.
“Mr. Roark, I am here to take the prisoner back to YDC (youth detention center) as court has been rescheduled for Monday, the tenth. Judge Henry has been taken to the hospital. Another judge will be assigned to the case at that time.” The YDC transit guard stood in the doorway staring at Jonna though he spoke to me. His hand never left the weapon at his side.
What is this? I thought. He seems to be, at the very least, wary of Jonna.
“May I still have the rest of my thirty minutes with my client?” I asked.
“I’m sorry sir, but I have to bring her back now. You may setup an interview time with Miss Jackson at the center.” He entered the room to take Jonna into custody.The moment his hand touched her arm she shrieked at me, at the top of her voice.
“Please, Mr. Roark, don’t let them take me back!” 
“Jonna, calm down. I will see you as soon as possible. We’ll get this all sorted out. Just go back to YDC for now.” I  tried my best to reassure her. 

As the guard cuffed her hands together, I felt I had to, at the very least, say something. “Seriously? You feel it necessary to cuff an eleven year old girl?” I raised my voice to be heard over Jonna’s screams of protest. I stood, ready to debate this idiotic rule with him.
“Where have you been,sir?” He asked me, as he took my wailing client from the room.
“What? Where have I been?” I repeated his question, trying to understand just why he asked it in the first place. I had no clue.
I exited the courtroom into the hall. The huge floor to ceiling windows, which faced east, filled the entire hall with bright sunshine. But this could not dispel my feeling of doom. At far end of the hall stood the entrance to the courthouse and  I could see the media assembled. I turned on my heel and headed in the opposite direction. I have been in this court many times and knew of a side exit.
Once outside I had to circle around back to reach the parking lot on the next street. As I entered the lot I glanced behind me and saw Dennis Roberts surrounded by the press. His hands waved expressively as he answered their questions. He certainly looked to be in his element while I slunk away to my car.
I drove to the YDC on South Hall Rd, the next county over. The trip, from the courthouse parking lot to the YDC parking lot took a total of thirty-five minutes. I rushed into the front hall of the single story brick building. The stark white walls and black and white tiled floor with the black lacquered reception counter were the only colors in the main room. And they’re not even colors. I waited for the young woman to hang up the phone. She must be new here because I have never seen her before today.
“I need to speak to Miss Jackson right away.” I told her.
“One moment please, sir. May I tell her your name and the reason for your visit?” she asked.
“I’m Mr. Roark, I need to set up a visitation with my client, Jonna Hillary.” I was growing impatient here. I had the strangest feeling that I was missing something. The look in the young woman’s eyes as I said Jonna’s name, confirmed my belief that something was amiss.
“One moment.”
I paced the length of the reception desk and back until she reappeared five minutes later.
“Come with me, sir."
She led me to the same door she had entered just minutes before. I stood in front of a desk covered with files. I waited while Miss Jackson wrapped up her phone call.
“Please, place those files on the table by the wall and have a seat." she said.
“I only wish to speak to my client," I began as I stacked up the files from the chair and unceremoniously piled them on the floor, she interrupted me before I even had a chance to sit down.
“Your client has been sedated, so a meeting today is impossible. Had I known you were coming here I would have had reception notify you and save you the trip."
“Look, I told the guard that I was coming here, as a matter of fact he was the one to mention it to me, didn’t he tell you?"
“Jonna was hysterical when she arrived here from court. No one could talk to her nor calm her down. Sedation was the only solution. The guard was released to another duty."
“I need to see my client." I barely held on to my anger.
She stared at me for a full minute, then began moving files around on her desk as though looking for something. When her hand came to rest atop blue flex binder, she looked back at me.
      “Paul, I’m going to break the rules here. This file,” she tapped the blue binder, “is Jonna’s file. I’m going to leave my office and give you fifteen minutes to look at her records. Please be quick.” She stood and headed to the door behind me. I turned in my chair to stare at her. Now I’m really dumbfounded.
At the door, she turned to me and said, “I’m not doing this for Jonna. I’m doing this out of respect for you. This case has changed you.” and she was gone.
I had no time to dwell on her last statement or the fact she called me by name. I grabbed the file,  it contained a great number of pages for such a young girl. Rather than try to scan each page, I rushed to the copy machine, happy to see it was loaded with paper and humming in anticipation of the task at hand.
With the copies made and secreted in my attache case, I sat for three minutes to wait for her return. The door opened behind me and I smiled as she sat at her desk, the blue folder on top.
I stood, “ I thank you for your time.  If you could give me a call when it will be good to visit with Jonna, I would really appreciate it. Court doesn’t resume until the tenth which gives me four days. I need some time with my client before then.”
“Of course.” she stood to shake my hand.
I walked past the reception desk not looking at the woman who I could feel stare at me even as I  went down the steps and out of sight.
I kept the speed limit all the way back to my condo.  I made a sandwich while a fresh pot of coffee brewed.
Lost in thought I was brought back to the present with the buzz of the coffeepot. I poured a cup and with my sandwich settled in my large living room.
As I opened my attache case to remove the copied file, I glanced around my quiet home. Without my family here, this place was really too big. But the view of San Francisco Bay held me here, the view along with the memories.
I took a bite of p&b on rye, and leaned back to read.
Two hours later, after reading the pages twice, I was puzzled. This file told the story of an unremarkable life. It was a tale of a typical child in the typical foster system. She had been moved from home to home all of her eleven years. I have seen this kind of story many times before, which made this entire day surreal.
My coffee had grown cold, and my sandwich undesirable, so I took both to the kitchen. I leaned against the counter trying to put all my thoughts in order. I found myself lost in a memory of my family. My wife, Celine, had selected each element of this galley kitchen. From the bright yellow curtains on the small windows, the glass front cabinets and the granite breakfast bar with a sink embedded on the far side. This entire condo spoke of her. I was too busy with my practice to really care what color sofa we had. I glanced around at these two rooms and saw her in every corner.
I dragged myself back to the present. What the hell was wrong with me? This melancholia that hung over me, all the distractions, the strangeness of this case, all of this spelled disaster for me. Or I should say, for my client. Guilty or not, she deserved the best defense I could give her, and in all honesty, she wasn’t getting that at all. This is so not like me.
I poured another cup of coffee and headed back to read the file once more. What am I missing?

I opened my eyes from the strangest dream to find myself still seated on my sofa. My coffee mug sat on the glass topped table, untouched. The first page of the file still in my hand. The view outside my bay windows was of black water. To the left I could see the lights of the bridge, and to the right, the lights of the city. Straight ahead was the ocean, no lights, no moon, no stars. Just blackness.
Though I had obviously slept the afternoon,evening and well into the night,  I found I was unable to keep my eyes open. Someone was pulling me back into my dream.
I stood by the ocean listening to the pounding surf. This was not the shoreline off the coast of San Francisco. I had no idea where I was. I looked behind me to see strange almost tropical foliage as  if I was on an island. The waves crashed on the rocks and brought me back to look at the sea.
A voice called out on the wind. It took me a moment to hear the words.
”Help me, please, help me!” I turned a full circle to find the voice, I think it was a man’s voice,  but I was alone.
“Paul, it will be alright. Think of us. Remember we do love you. Always. Though we are no longer in your world, we will always be with you.”
“Celine? Where are you? What do you mean? I”m so confused, lost. Who’s there with you?”
There was no response, no other voice, I sat down on the sand, hugging my drawn up knees. With my head on my arms I wept.
            The rain slashed against my windows as I opened my eyes. The page that had been in my hand lay under the table. A loud crack of thunder, followed by a zig zagged streak of lightening brought me to my feet. Through the crescendo of the storm I heard the trill of my ringtone.
I opened my phone and shouted “Roark” over the noise of the storm.
“Mr. Roark, this is the office of the County Court,  I have sad news. I received a phone call from the hospital,  Judge Henry died early this morning, and no other judge will free up his calendar to take this case. Your court appearance has been postponed until we can resolve this issue.”
“He died? From what?” I asked. I looked out at the storm that was no longer there. The sun shone bright as it dispersed the dark clouds.
“I think they’re assuming a heart attack, but that’s impossible. I have known him for twenty years and he is the healthiest person you could imagine. He just told me two days ago that his physical was perfect, a clean bill of health, and his doctor was impressed as usual.”
“Please keep me informed.” I said.
I tossed my phone on the sofa and headed to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, dressed in blue jeans and a college tee-shirt, I poured yet another cup of coffee. This one I drank.
I played everything over in my mind, from the short court appearance to my dream. Taking the last sip of my coffee, I grabbed my phone and keys, put the cup in the sink and headed out.
      Twenty minutes later I walked up the steps to the YDC building. Another new girl sat at the reception desk. I told her what I needed.
With a nod she picked up her phone and dialed an extension. “Someone will be down in a moment to escort you to the conference room.” she said as she replaced the handset.
“Thank you.” I was quite pleased at this little turn of events. I was able to bypass Miss Jackson entirely due to, yet another, new receptionist.

An orderly appeared ten minutes later. We walked down the long hallway, took a right and he brought me into a large room with a table to seat twelve. I was asked to sit there for just a moment and he would bring Jonna to me. A chrome pitcher, covered with condensation from the ice water it held, sat to my right. I poured two glasses.
When she entered, it was obvious to me that she had been crying. A lot. I reached across the table to take her hands in mine. “Jonna, I hate to tell you something that I know is going to upset you further, but you need to know. Judge Henry passed away this morning. I don’t know when your case will be back on the docket. I’m so sorry. You’ll have to stay here until its rescheduled.”
She looked at me with pain and sorrow-filled eyes, so much pain, way beyond what a person  should endure, let alone a child.
“I tried, I really tried, Mr. Roark. But my powers are too weak.” Her head lowered to the table as her shoulders shook with uncontrollable grief.
“Powers? Jonna, what is going on?” I was ready to climb out of my skin, and at the same time I feared her answer.
She looked back at me with very old eyes. Wise eyes, looking out from a child’s face.
“ I was with the judge when he passed. I tried to save him but they wouldn’t let me in. It was the same with Carla that morning. I tried to save her too.” her head lowered to her folded arms again.
What? Oh,God I don’t understand any of this. I could no longer sit still, I stood and began to pace. “Jonna, tell me everything, from the beginning.”
“I will tell you even though I know you won’t believe a word.” With a shudder she took a sip of the glass of water I had poured for her.
“This is my last journey through this life. My last chance to make things right. I arrived in the night five years ago. I met Carla that first day of school but it was not by accident. She knew I was an old soul, and she sought me out for torment. Her kind are here in far greater numbers than mine. I warned her, but I knew it was useless to do so. I knew where she resided and I went there to talk to her again. I followed her into the park.” Jonna paused again here to sip more of the water. She seemed to look inward as if gathering courage as she continued.
“ As she entered the woods she cast a smile at me to encourage me to follow. I knew I would be at risk, but I went anyway. Not far was a small clearing and I stopped to talk. Out of the thicket came a teenage boy. I recognized a soul younger than me. His power was greater than mine, even greater than Carla’s, for in moment he had her gasping for air, choking on her own tongue without touching her.  He told me to leave, that he would cover for me. I asked him why he killed her, and he told me he did it to set me free, to allow me the time to complete my last journey. I thanked him and got away from there as quickly as I could. But someone saw me go in the woods with Carla and return alone.”
I could barley understand what I was hearing, let alone begin to believe.
“Souls? Old, young? I don’t understand any of this, Jonna.” I cried as I sat back in my chair.
She reached out and clasped my fingers tightly in her own. “Paul, I told you all of this when you sent for me.” she whispered.
I sent for her? I must be losing my mind.
“Why? Why would I send for you? How would I send for you?” I asked.
“You called me to save your family. But I couldn’t, they were beyond my reach.” her eyes welled with tears once more.
“My family? My family is in New York. They’re fine. What are you talking about?” I pleaded.
“When is the last time you spoke to Celine? To Liam or Sean?”
“I..I..don’t remember. I’m divorced, my ex-wife won’t answer my calls.” I shuddered deep within my core, so afraid of what was coming.
“Your family is gone. That night over two years ago, you were supposed to drive to the lake house, but you were  wrapped up in your case and forgot. Celine drove the boys that night. She left a voicemail for you saying they’d meet you at the camp. You still have that message saved to your phone. She missed the turn, went over the guardrail and down the embankment.”
The pieces, the slivers of memories, the kaleidoscope fragments of dreams, all piece together in front of my eyes. Celine, the boys, sailing, surfing, laughing, the picnics, the Santa Monica Wharf, Christmas mornings, birthday parties and a funeral. Three coffins supported over large holes in the ground. The soft breeze from the bay stirring the flowers. The numbness of my heart. I can’t bear it. How does anyone bear it?
A short lifetime of memories float together to form the collage of what was once my family, my life.
Everything comes together...the questions,the dreams the courtroom.
I feel her squeeze my fingers again.
I let my eyes stare at the adult hand holding my own. I see the hospital gown against my knees, the blue paper slippers. My eyes follow the hand, the arm, and up to the face of the woman in her late sixties. Her dark blue eyes are the same as the ones I envisioned in my client.
“Welcome back, Paul. You’ve begun your journey to recovery. This won’t be easy, nor will it be quick, but the first step is to remember.”