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Brad stood up and walked to the back of the courtroom. He could feel Jemima’s eyes on him as he passed, and he tried hard not to imagine what she was thinking.
His testimony had been the last, and he sat down on the back bench and settled in for the closing arguments. He figured that he was already in it up to his neck with Delores, so a few extra hours, more or less, would make little difference.
Morton’s lawyer got up and argued that Mr. Morton’s family had owned the letter for hundreds of years and that it had been lost by accident. He said that Jemima had acquired it through a mistake and that she promised to sell the letter to his client, and had reneged. The lawyer also claimed that his own eyewitness testimony was suspect because he was besotted with Jemima and therefore not a trustworthy witness.
Brad pulled his hands over his face, imagining how that was going to play back at the office, and how it would affect his reputation as a reporter. Not well, that was for sure, but he told himself he’d made the choice to do it, and he wasn’t sorry.
After Morton’s attorney was finished, Hutchinson stood up and, in Brad’s opinion, destroyed the prosecution by arguing that Jemima had the receipt proving she bought the clock legally; that by the testimony of two witnesses, she had been in possession of the letter at the time of dispute; and that, according to his own testimony, she had not promised to sell the clock.
Hutchinson stood facing the jury and pointed dramatically to Jemima as she sat in the defendant’s box. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask you,” he said grandly, “if innocence could reveal itself to the naked eye, could it wear a clearer face than the one you see before you?”
In spite of his feelings toward Jemima, Brad lowered his head and smirked into his shirt. Hutchinson should’ve had his own TV show, but in this case, Brad figured that even overripe rhetoric couldn’t blow Jemima’s chances. One look at her face, as Hutchinson had claimed, really was it all it took.
Hutchinson finally sat down, and the jury left the room to deliberate. Brad sighed and dug into his pocket for the smart phone. It might be hours before they came back. He checked his email messages. To his dismay, they were almost all from Delores.
Brad,
Where are you? I told you to be here this morning bright and early. If you’re where I think you are, you can turn in your badge!
Brad stifled a groan and scrolled down.
Brad,
On second thought, if you’re at the trial, make yourself useful. If you can get me a blow-by-blow by noon, I’ll forgive you, but only if you get it to me fast.
Brad,
Are you reading your mail?
He sighed, turned off the phone, and stuck it into his pocket. Time passed.
Brad amused himself by studying his neighbors. The people around him were mostly local folk, and a good many were Amish. The row he was sitting on was empty except for him, but the others were filled with primly-dressed men and women. They were talking softly in that near-German dialect he’d heard Jemima use.
His gaze wandered, and he noticed that one of the black-clad figures was staring back at him. It was the tall blonde guy that he figured for one of Jemima’s boyfriends, the one who’d been giving him the dead eye. The guy looked even more disapproving now—if that was possible.
On an evil impulse, Brad made eye contact, cracked a wide grin and winked at him. The other young man scowled, drew himself up, and stood briefly, just before the door opened and the jury returned.
The young man was forced to sit back down again, but he gave Brad such a speaking look that Brad began to wonder if he’d been smart to push him. Still, it had been hard to resist. He chuckled to himself, shook his head, and rubbed his hands together.
He checked his watch; the jury had been gone almost no time at all – less than 20 minutes. It was either some technical glitch or they’d decided in record time. Brad took a look at their faces, and decided it was probably—record time.
The judge addressed the foreman. “Have you reached a verdict?”
A portly middle-aged man stood up and nodded. “We have, your honor.”
“How do you find?”
“We find in favor of the defendant.”
Brad grinned and turned to leave. He brushed past the bailiffs, opened the doors a crack, and was promptly mobbed by the reporters who were waiting outside.
Amish Millionaire Cleared in $1.6 Million Suit
By Brad Williams
Serenity, PA – In a 12-0 decision, a jury today rejected Caldwell Morton’s claim that Jemima King, the Amish millionaire, had promised to sell him a letter written by George Washington. The jury, made up of six men and six women, took only 20 minutes to clear Miss King of the charge.
The jury heard arguments from the prosecution lawyer, William Harwell, that the Morton family had owned the letter for hundreds of years, and that Miss King had obtained it when the clock had mistakenly been included in an estate sale.
Defense attorney Barfield Hutchinson countered by arguing that Miss King had produced a receipt for the clock, and that according to the testimony of several witnesses, was in lawful possession of the clock at the time of the dispute.
Several witnesses testified on behalf of Miss King, including Eli Satterwhite, the owner of Satterwhite’s Gift Shop in Serenity, Penn.; who said that he sold Miss King the clock; John Maxwell, of Brinkley’s Auction House in Philadelphia, who testified that Miss King had produced valid evidence of ownership prior to the letter auction; and Brad Williams, of the Ledger newspaper, who testified that he had heard Miss King refuse to sell the letter to Morton when asked.
Miss King has given more than $500,000 to help local families pay medical bills, and has expressed her intention of giving the rest of her windfall to people in need.
Back in his hotel room, Brad hit the “send” button and checked his watch. It was 11:55. He’d saved his job with five minutes to spare.
He smiled, thinking that testifying on Jemima’s behalf was the one thing he’d done since coming to Amish country that he felt completely good about. At least now, he’d done something that really helped her.
The rest – well, it was probably better to chalk it up to experience. His time with the Duchess had shown him little more than that he could be reduced to babbling idiocy by a pretty face, that he wanted what he thought he couldn’t have, and that he didn’t have the sense to keep a girl that he actually got along with, and who understood him.
Now, after all these reverses, it was time to return to the real world, and get back to his own life. He pulled his suitcase out from underneath the bed and opened it beside him.
His smartphone buzzed, and he glanced down at it. Delores had sent him an email.
Brad,
Great article. Here’s something that will make you laugh: your editorial has gone viral on social media. You are now the lovelorn boy. Go and see what women are offering to send you in the mail, Romeo!
Brad raised his brows and sputtered out a laugh. He was about to put the phone down again, when the phone buzzed a second time. This time, it was a call.
He picked it up. “Hello?”
There was a long pause on the other end. “Brad?”
He sat up straight. Every nerve in his body was suddenly on alert. It was Jemima. How had she gotten hold of a phone?
“Yes, I’m here.”
There was silence again. “I was hoping – I was hoping I could see you again, before you leave.”
His heart was pounding. “Sure, that would be great. I can be at your house in say, twenty minutes.”
“No...tonight. After ten o’clock. Could you come then?”
He went completely still and felt his heart beating.
“Sure.”
There was a scuffling sound on the other end, a soft sound that might or might not have been a word, and then a dial tone.
