Sitting in the packed courtroom of Judge Jeff Franks, I occupied the front bench, right behind the defense table. The atmosphere seemed morbid until the media packed the aisles, ready to report any information or rumor they could turn up, manipulate, or manufacture. The pre arranged starting time for the show had come and gone. The proceedings were late to start, the norm for most courtrooms across America. A fat, obnoxious man, who parked his heft on the bench directly behind me, initiated an exchange with a few spectators around him. The remarks he started with indicated how the prosecutor was going to see to it that the defendant was going to fry in the electric chair. While many heard his comment, I chose not to let it faze to me. Then he added a remark that did. Mentally I wanted to kill the man. Can you believe he actually said that Mr. Bertran’s lawyer should be roasted right along with him? Just one more quip like that and I’d wind up seated in the same chair Thomas’s butt was stationed for decapitating the loudmouth bastard.
When Troy entered, his composure as well as his confidence glowed like a beacon on a moonless night. The dark blue Brooks Brothers, single breasted suit was coordinated perfectly with a light blue button-down, and a blue, yellow, and maroon abstract silk tie designed by Fendi; which should have been reserved for his inauguration at the White House. To me, it seemed he should have been able to turn to the jury, ooze his charm, backed by his sincerity, and the trial would have ended with him claiming victory. Unfortunately, that’s not the way reality works. Too bad, my way could possibly save the judicial system both time and money.
I was too busy ogling at Troy to notice Nobel stroll to the prosecutor’s table. Everyone had to stand as Judge Franks ascended and sat upon his throne. In a remarkable turn of events, his honor granted Troy’s motion to suppress the video Ms. William gave to the police. The smile on my man’s face was broad and bright; nevertheless, short-lived. Nobel, cool as a block of ice in a frying pan, reminded the judge he still hadn’t ruled on the introduction of the recently discovered traffic camera evidence. Troy protested at once. His objection was denied, as Franks allowed the videos, crushing the previous blow to the state’s case. The new videos from various locations around the city positively identified Thomas driving Mila’s van on the morning in question. The quality of the videos weren’t great, yet they clearly showed Mila’s lifeless body from different angles.
Troy feared the videos would be allowed since there had been no compromise to the chain of evidence. Nobel gave a quick smirk, realizing he dealt a huge strike to Troy’s case. While Troy had a chance to use the traffic camera videos, not one was beneficial to his defense. It was a major setback, albeit to look at Troy’s coolness, no one other than Thomas knew how upset he was.
Allowing the jury to enter, they found their seats, made themselves comfortable, and prepared to listen to the murder case. Just like that the trial which would define Troy’s future was underway. Nobel was not a very likable man, although to his credit, he was definitely crafty. He had a way of asking questions which always produced the answer he wanted the jury to hear. I may not be the smartest fish in the tank, but Troy’s lack of experience was painfully obvious. I hung onto his every word, hoping he could extract even the tiniest morsel of beneficial information from any of the state’s witnesses. Sadly, none materialized. And while Troy believed in his client’s story, I doubted a little more after each witness testified.
One week into the proceedings the prosecution rested and it was Troy’s turn to call witnesses. Since it was late, the judge called a halt for the day, giving everyone an early break for the night. I can only recall it so vividly because it was the only time I had the unfortunate pleasure of sitting right behind the prosecutor’s table. Due to my location, I was privy to one of Nobel’s comments, causing me to rethink hiring Sydney Brown. I overheard one of Nobel’s assistant ask what made him think to use the videos from the traffic cameras, before anyone knew there was a good chance they might lose Ms. Williams video, and thereby receive a serious setback to the case. I can still hear Glen’s exact words he used to reply.
“Sydney Brown mentioned it. She’s the best you know.”
That bitch! I hadn’t heard a word from her since I gave her that damned check. Where the hell did she disappear to and what was she up to? From the looks of things, I was out of $75,000, while Troy was on the fast track to lose in his first case. The only thought which crossed my mind, was maybe the system would work in Thomas’s case.
I tried phoning Sydney countless times with no results. I began to mentally formulate a letter to send to the Better Business Bureau, telling how she not only ripped me off, but also assisted the enemy while working for me. Who was I kidding? Europe probably doesn’t have the BBB. Damn, I was so upset; all that money spent, for what? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
During the trial, Troy didn’t phone me. I understood why, he was much too busy. Amy kept an eye on the laundry for me and reported everything was going swell. There was peace and harmony between all the workers, who agreed that the all-male laundry night, was a great idea. I was being recognized by people in and around Atlanta, from appearing in the Laundry Lion television commercials, which cause people in court to sometimes ask for my autograph. Actually brainstorming new income producing avenues kept my mind occupied doing the long trial.
I assumed Troy was going to become exhausted by the end of the trial, and I planned on comforting him in any way possible. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person with that thought on her mind. It seemed the only other person who kept her focus on my future husband was Nikki. Maybe I should have felt remorse for my intent on taking her man away from her, since she was, in fact dating him at the time. But see, the way I saw it, I laid eyes on him first, long before she came into the picture. There was no way I’d let her have him! Okay, a little too dramatic but nonetheless, it’s how I felt.
As I watched Nikki, I suddenly realized that maybe the world wouldn’t end if Troy lost the Bertran case. If Nikki was the gold digging, in-crowd seeking fiend I suspected her of being, she’d disappear in a hurry once Troy’s rising star status took a downward spiral. If I was wrong, I could always get Darnisha’s old crew to give the chick a beat down.
Trying to gather information in countries that don’t keep organized records in a single location can try one’s patience. Sydney had to obtain service records from the military in order to arrive at the big blank she faced. The unbearably hot climate, not to mention being without proper phone service, attested to the fact Sydney was on an island, cut off from the rest of the world. After finally deploying her last investigative tactic in hopes of finding that one piece of the puzzle she desperately needed before her client no longer needed her services, didn’t sway her determination. She knew the one thing people in other countries recognized and respected, regardless of what most Americans believed, the almighty US dollar is still the most treasured and sought out currency when bribing or rewarding anyone, anywhere, and any time.
A native, skinny to the point of displaying every bone’s outline under a thin coat of flesh, limped his way to the stool Sydney sat upon. As he held his bony hand, palm side up to her, he smiled his toothless best. It was his way of letting her know his mission to find the information she promised to pay for was successful. She held the Jackson faced note tightly in her hand, letting him see his prize. The man spittle flew from his mouth with each broken English word he uttered, yet the content of what he imparted was well worth the shower she endured.
$20, the simple amount most people in industrialized countries spend on insignificant junk without much thought, would sustain the bony man for months. With the money she just doled out, the man was granted an extension amongst the living. If the man’s information proved correct, which she had no way of being certain, her goal was that much closer. She would have loved to give him more, but in her line of work, experience taught her about the fine line of offering money for information. Offer too little and no one’s interested. Too much, and everyone has some for sale, and a person could wind up poorer while chasing dead ends.
Traveling to the location the man provided, she entered. The smell of the place was overpowering. People were lined up in the hallways bleeding, coughing, sneezing, screaming in pain, and crying. Their pain ridden faces seemed more of a barometer to measure their tolerance for patience, as some had been waiting for days to receive what limited services became available to those unable to pay for them.
Rushing to the front of the line, ignoring the hissing and obvious negative remarks, Sydney asked for the party she was informed would be present. The women behind the counter tried their best to help, yet no one understood what she wanted. Not until one of the doctors who spoke a little English heard her raising her voice, did Sydney’s questions receive answers. The doctor motioned for her to follow him, and after being led around a few hallways, pointed to a room.
“You go, you go,” he said scurrying off.
Without knocking on the door, Sydney marched right in. To her dismay, the room was empty, nonetheless promising. The bed was still warm to the touch, as was the chair next to it. She interpreted that as an indication whoever was there, had recently left the room. Most folks would have gone running to search for help after finding the room unoccupied. Not Sydney, she simply scanned the room for something which might help her identify who slept in the small area. She spied the edge of a small black and white photograph tucked under the bed’s pillow, which she removed. One look at the picture and she smiled. Goal achieved, mission successful! Even more magnificent, was the room’s occupant returning.
The old woman in the wheelchair, along with the woman assisting her had puzzled expressions on their faces when they spotted Sidney gazing at the snapshot. They both relaxed when she turned up the charm in her smile. After relaying the reason for her being there, Sydney could imagine a quick visit to a euphoric place, somewhere close to a place called heaven.
Collecting the mail from my post office box, I sorted through the junk mail and bills, finding a red envelope with no return address. Opening the envelope, I read the outside of the expensive card enclosed. Inside was a cashier’s check for more than I requested. The $150,000 check left the “pay to the bearer,” line blank, leaving me to print my name. Inside there was a hand written note:
I don’t know if this amount can ever repay you for
what you’ve given back to my life. I want you to
know I haven’t asked any questions, neither has John.
We are both grateful and will for always be in your debt.
G.W.
I wish there had been a way to explain to Alvin the full err of his scheme to defraud Greta, yet really there wasn’t. Now that I had her money, maybe I wasn’t any better than him. In the two conversations we conducted since he set her up, he sounded depressed. Without her gifts of money, along with not being able to find a job, he was worried about the future of Darnisha, their baby, and her family. I knew I used him for my own purposes, but he really was one of the good guys. He just found himself in a bad situation caused by the realities of life.
I anticipated the funds arriving and had already located a nice three-bedroom, two bath home, with an unattached garage which included a mother-in-law suite, priced at $70,000. The place needed some work, such as paint in and out, carpet, a new central AC heat unit since the old one had been stolen, and landscaping. The house was for sale by the owner, who placed a homemade sign in the front window. It indicated he was very motivated to sell. When I told Mr. Grigsby about the place, he contacted the owner. Jeremy let me know, the term” very motivated” meant the price of the home, through careful negotiations, could drop considerably. That’s why I left the haggling up to him.
Jeremy phoned with the results of his dicker with Mr. Finney, the homeowner. He seemed proud to tell me that for $56,000 cash, the home was mine. I thanked him and jumped at the chance to purchase the abode. He also advised me he knew a few people who could refurbish the place. When I explained my plans for enclosing the garage, converting it into a larger apartment, thereby renting both places to obtain a faster return on my investment, he laughed out loud. He complimented me on finding such a solid investment.
Being close to Troy every day, somehow altered my raging hormone problem. As the second week of the proceedings began, I didn’t have to wear extra protection to ward off embarrassment by my excessive excretions. Troy tried diligently to defend the accusations leveled against Thomas, yet armed with basically rhetorical questions and unable to discredit the state’s evidence, things weren’t favoring his client. The judge didn’t seem bias, as he allowed the defense as much leeway as possible with any inquiries. That, too, didn’t seem to have an effect on swaying anyone’s opinion. The trial wasn’t looking too well at all, and I wanted Troy to win more than anyone. There were several newspaper articles reporting once the jury received the case, a guilty verdict was inevitable. Some reporters were speculating a conviction on the very first vote.
Past relationships taught her to remain observant to those around her. Nikki paid special attention to the ravishing beauty Troy introduced as an old schoolmate. She’d built a solid bond with him and was always on the lookout for other females who set their sights on her beau. Upon initially meeting Rolanda, Nikki felt bad vibes. She dismissed them once Troy narrated Ro’s past to her. His old schoolmate was the classic story of the ugly duckling transforming into the beautiful swan. In a way, she was happy for Ro; nevertheless, she didn’t believe in female friends who wanted constant contact with Troy.
The former school pal didn’t register on her radar until the second week of the Bertran trial. While she kept a tractor beam on Troy, Nikki noticed Ro’s vision never strayed or veered away from him either. Regardless to whether Troy was sitting, whispering into his client, or watching and listening to Nobel question witnesses, the classmate kept her focus squarely on him. Whenever Troy spoke, she viewed how Ro leaned forward, entranced by the sound of his voice. Thinking back to the first few days of the trial, Nikki could have sworn she observed his former school buddy in the nirvana of orgasm, because she was clutching the top of the rail in front of her so tightly. It was as if she were holding on for dear life. Maybe she was wrong, but Nikki’s instincts usually served her very accurately. Nikki became convinced Rolanda Boyer was someone to keep an eye on.