by Celia Crown
“I’m making progress with fascinating findings.” She lays her head on my shoulder, listening in the words of the judge as he resumes the case.
She’s been keeping me in the dark as to what is going on, but I trust her to make the right decision. Whatever she is planning, it has something to do with Braxton and this case. When the lunch break happened, she had gone to see the prosecutor to speak to him privately.
I wish she would tell me and keep me in the loop so I can protect her better, but she is a stubborn girl who likes her independence a bit too much.
The first portion of the trial was all about character. The lawyers have witnesses paint Braxton as a saint and an angel sent from heaven. They speak of all the things he had done to the community and how his piano had brought happiness to everyone around him.
The prosecutor had the victim’s family speak up. Their daughter was one of the kindest people; she was a good girl who got good grades and wanted to get accepted into her dream school for social work.
Both sides got the chance to do what everyone calls ‘character assassination’ when it was their turn. It was a shitstorm, and the leading voices wanted to cause as much damage to their enemy’s image as possible while protecting their client’s pristine pureness.
It was hard to watch, especially the victim’s family was sobbing. No one was winning favors, and they aren’t losing the jury just yet. The battle was only beginning.
When the second part of the trail begins, it entails presenting the pieces of evidence of the crime and the argument from the lawyers.
“My client did not go out looking for trouble. He had his driver take him home and do remember that Mr. Berkshire is a public figure; he must have two bodyguards with him at all times.”
The lawyer loudly exclaims, “He can’t commit a crime and put Ms. Addison in the trunk of his car when he was with his bodyguards! In his police statement, his car was stolen by a group of men in masks, and the police had found his car in the river! No evidence, no crime!”
Except for the body of Addison in the damn trunk of his car when the diver’s pulled it out.
“The police claim they have evidence against my client, but they’re all circumstantial. The car was stolen, and for all we know, the murder could have been committed by the car thieves!”
Scarletta links her arm with mine, listening in the argument and how hard the lawyer is trying to make the jury believe that Braxton isn’t a killer.
The crime is clear as a day in my head because I was one of the lead detectives on this case. I know this better than anyone else. This case haunts me because Addison was a young girl like Scarletta, bright and beautiful with a long future ahead of her that suddenly turned black by the hands of a monster hiding behind a mask and money.
If I could tell the jury that Addison had somehow met Braxton and something happened to make him kill her, it was a crime of passion from how many wounds were inflicted on her body. Security cameras have caught his car, with only himself driving in the night to a remote area.
We wouldn’t have found the car with her body inside if her blood hadn’t leaked from the trunk and onto the ground for stray animals to pick up on. Animal control was called for the excessive animal activity, and then they called the police regarding the car they saw in the deep river, but no one was ready for the body.
Every piece of evidence had been contaminated by the dirty river water, and I’m sure Braxton wanted that, and it’s why he drove the car there.
There isn’t much evidence, but the implication is clearly there. If the jury and everyone else in this fucking world can open their eyes, then they would see what kind of a monster he really is. They don’t need to see what he had done to Addison’s body to come to that conclusion, but if it means to get people to turn against them, the prosecutor will use it.
Just like right now.
He presents the injuries. Over fifty stab wounds, evidence of saw marks for dismemberment. Brutal tearing from a sexual assault that cannot be mistaken for rough sex and the medical examiner had noted that the sexual assault had been done when her arms were sawed off because her wounds had hints of elasticity that only a live human could have.
He had stabbed her, took her arms off to make her defenseless to his sexual assault. Braxton is a sick bastard and bringing Addison that much pain wasn’t enough for him. He had hacked off her legs too before decapitating her.
Leaving her naked and exposed was his way of showing the last act of humiliation on the poor young woman.
The prosecutor hisses, hands clenching on the edge where the jury sits, eyeing the young woman in front of him to get the most connection to for Addison.
“Braxton is a sadist. He had tortured a young woman—someone who you could feel for; your daughter, your friend, your mother, yourself. This is the behavior of a psychopath; he has no remorse for what he has done. He’s lying to you right now.”
The prosecutor spins around, tie flying and pointing a sharp finger at him. “He didn’t even flinch when he looked at the photos; he has no remorse looking at pictures of a woman who was once a bright and happy girl—and he turned her life into a living hell!”
“Objection!” the defense side rises up. “Speculation!”
The prosecutor nods. “Withdrawn.”
He sits back down, lowly speaking to his colleague, who is another lawyer. The prosecutor waits for whatever bullshit Braxton’s lawyer is going to pull off because everyone working for Braxton has the personality of a snake, actively searching for loopholes and attacking everything in all directions without caring for morality.
“Your honor, I would like to discredit one of the prosecutor’s character witnesses.”
A round of murmurs flows through the room. The judge smacks his hammer down in front of him. Scarletta absentmindedly rubs my arm, a soft hum under her breath, and I just know whatever she’s planning is in motion.
While the lawyers are up by the judge to figure out what the hell is going on, Scarletta straightens up her posture with a smile.
“I was like to call Miss. Scarletta to the stand.”
She stands while I’m still in shock. Cal on her other side shoots me the same look of confusion while the prosecutor practically demands to know what the hell is going on with his eyes.
“Your honor, Miss Scarletta is not a witness to anything. She has no connection to the case.”
The defense lawyer immediately jumps in as if he has been expecting his objection. “Miss. Scarletta currently resides with Detective Wolf as she previously did with his partner.”
The judge contemplates for a moment. “I’ll allow it, but only questions pertaining to the case.”
“Thank you, your honor.” The lawyer smugly smiles at the prosecutor.
Scarletta is at the stand with her hand on the bible to swear she is not to lie on record. She seems to be excited, and that concerns me because no one had been expecting her to be on the stand. The prosecutor hadn’t prepared her for any of the brutal cross-examinations from the other side.
I know she is a brave and strong-willed girl, but this is a professional lawyer that only has money in his eyes, so her feelings are simply dust flying around in the air.
“Miss. Scarletta.” The man nods. “As you have heard the testimony, my client is a wonderful man.”
“Something like that,” Scarletta answers, detached.
She’s not nervous, the energy on her skin is buzzing, and I could feel it from where I’m sitting. I think she truly wanted to be questioned by the other side just for fun. We’re going to have a talk at home about her rash behavior.
She’s going to get ripped to shreds on the stand.
“What is your occupation?”
She cocks her head with a smile. “Researcher for rare diseases.”
“I see,” the man nods and aimlessly walk around. “What is your relationship with Mr. Braxton?”
“Objection!” the prosecutor shoots up from his seat. “Relevance?�
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“I need to establish this fact to present my evidence, your honor.”
The other man in the highest place nods. “Tread carefully, Mr. York.”
The defense resumes to questioning her with the same question, and she answers it flawlessly without a shred of emotions other than excitement.
“I don’t know him.”
“You don’t,” the defense’s voice turns to condemn. “Then why did your phone record have his lawyer’s number, and why do we have this!”
The defense stalks to his table with a smug curl of his lips that makes me want to break his skull. He’s attacking Scarletta and I don’t care if this is his time to question her. I will take her off the stand if he makes her the slightest uncomfortable.
I don’t care if I’m going to be held in contempt and disrupting the trial.
The man holds up a bunch of pictures showing that she is in a deep conversation with Braxton, but the angle and distance prove that it’s taken from a distance. This has to be another trick to blindside the naïve jury into thinking Scarletta and him have something more than what is implied.
“You said you don’t know him, but you are clearly having coffee with him in this photo!” He slaps the picture in front of her before showing it to the jury.
“Mr. Braxton is one of the shareholders of the research facility that you work in. He said you threatened him to plead guilty for a crime he didn’t commit just so your boyfriend, Detective Wolf, could win this case.”
A synchronized gasp breaks the tense silence, and I grip the edge of my bench, but Cal’s hand shoots out to stop me from bashing the man’s face into the ground.
“If you say so,” she says with a shrug.
“If I—” the defense stutters in shock while the judge raises an eyebrow in conflict. “Are you denying it?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs again. “Do you have proof?”
The defense nods, gracefully pulling out sheets of paper to show it to the judge. Then it’s shown to Scarletta who only have a brief glance at it while no one else in the room knows what it is.
“These are signed and sworn statements of witnesses who have seen you threaten him at the coffee shop.”
I peer over to Braxton, and the fire that just settled in my stomach begins to burn into my blood. If justice isn’t served on that bastard, I’ll take it into my own hands.
“Huh, interesting.” She raps her nails on the wood.
The defense attorney is undoubtedly stunned at the nonchalant behavior of someone who had been caught in a lie, but Scarletta doesn’t give any clues as to if that is true or not.
“Because of your relationship with Detective Wolf, this case has been compromised. I request a mistrial, your honor!”
There’s a roar of angry people behind me, verbally screaming at the unfairness of this. The judge slams his hammer down several times to get everyone settled down.
The two lawyers are at it again with the judge and with each other to see who can win this round. Scarletta pensively glances over to Braxton, and I follow her gaze because that sheer jeering in her eyes triggers the fury in his eyes.
He should be happy that his lawyer is fighting the chance for a mistrial, but she isn’t bothered by it. If she isn’t, then I’m not either. Her relaxed posture is too confident, too Scarletta to be taken without precaution.
The defense attorney clearly has never dealt with someone with a high IQ and tendencies of a sinister manipulator.
“Your honor?” her sweet voice draws the older man’s attention and everyone else’s. “I need a restraining order.”
“What?” the judge, the prosecutor, and the defense simultaneously drop that word. They are just as confused as the rest of the room.
My Scarletta is scary. She is able to make the courtroom spin with people with incredible aptitude and give a performance as a blow to Braxton’s poise.
“Mr. Braxton has threatened me, and I would like a restraining order.”
The accused man stands up, slapping his hand on the table while Braxton’s other lawyers try to calm him down because they don’t want him to destroy their hard work of painting him as a beloved son and treasured musician.
“Young lady, do you have proof of this?” the judge asks.
“She doesn’t!” Braxton shouts, and I wonder where he has that confidence to say. Unless he had personally gotten rid of it, there is no way he could know she doesn’t have evidence against him because Scarletta doesn’t do things without a backup plan of the backup plan.
She must have three escapes for something as big as a murder trial.
“How’d you know?” She tilts her head, big amber eyes watering in absolute horror. “Is it because I gave the letter which you asked me to sign so I can work for you to Uncle Cal and Mr. Wolf? They said it was gone.”
Braxton’s chest shudders. “That’s right. I heard from a police friend that there had been a break-in at the station.”
His main lawyer tells him to keep his mouth shut under his breath, and Braxton continues to heave. A flash of relief and victory clouds his eyes as he drops back down to his chair with some difficulty and an odd angle on his body.
I don’t think too much of that.
“I have proof, your honor,” she repeats with her watery doe eyes, and the judge has no idea what he’s dealing with.
“My chamber this instant!” He jumps up from his seat and points at me and Cal. “You gentlemen too!”
Scarletta skips out of the stand and hums a small tune, casting Braxton a sardonic smile while she waits for me. I keep an eye on Braxton, warning him to not try anything while Cal takes her other side.
The three of us, the prosecutor, Braxton, and his main lawyer makes it into the chamber where the judge takes off his robe to sit in his hair. He glares at all of us, commanding one of us to explain the situation.
Braxton and his lawyer are useless in this while the rest of us don’t know a damn thing, but Scarletta takes out her phone to play a recording.
The judge listens to it, and his eyes darken with a sneering lip. The conversation started off with nothing serious until it got to the part where it truly went to hell.
“It’d be a shame to catch any misfortunes during your stay. I have people willing to go to prison for me and more money to spend destroying you than you can imagine. You wouldn’t want your housemate to be caught up in a mess, do you?”
Fucking hell. Braxton did threaten my little Scarletta, and she didn’t tell me until now. If this didn’t happen and she hadn’t been called to the stand, she would have kept this from me.
When the judge continues to listen to the recording with eyes cast down on the phone, I turn to Scarletta, who bats her eyes innocently at Braxton. He is ready to have steam coming out of his scalp at how furious he is.
When the recording ends, Scarletta switches her expression to an upset young girl who had been threatened by Braxton when the judge glances at her.
Braxton doesn’t take it well even when his lawyer just wants to have him shut up so he can talk his way out of this.
“You can’t record that! It’s illegal! My lawyer will have it tossed out!”
The judge sighs, folding his arms on his desk when he addresses the furious man. “This is a "one-party consent" state. This is evidence, and it will not be voided.”
“Then I request for this evidence to be suppressed and have the jury discard what had happened!” his lawyer shouts, trying to salvage his losing fate.
“Under what pretense?” the prosecutor asks, stepping forward towards the judge’s desk. “You’re the one who called Miss. Scarletta to the stand. You opened that door.”
The judge nods in agreement. “Counselor, you sleep on that can of worms. This will be admitted into evidence as to character witness, and the witness you were trying to discredit does not stand.”
Then he focuses on Scarletta, and she keeps up with her act, a façade too perfect and too heartbreaking for the judge to
keep his stern gaze. Even though for a little while, his eyes had a flash of sympathy in it.
This is what Scarletta wants, and every step of the way, Braxton’s idiotic lawyer falls for this scheme.
“Do you still require the restraining order?”
“Yes, please.” Scarletta sniffles, teary-eyed and trembling lips. Her voice drops into a tapered whimper, and Braxton sneers at her through his lawyer’s hold.
“She’s lying! She’s faking it!”
The judge shakes his head and sighs at the incompetent lawyer. “Control your client, counselor.”
He grants a restraining order with simple words, and Braxton becomes angrier. The judge orders everyone back into the courtroom, and he walks out of his chamber first.
“You bitch!” Braxton hisses, but he makes no move to come near Scarletta.
She spares him an uninterested stare. “Go on, you wouldn’t want the judge to get upset at your incompetence to be on time, do you?”
Just when he tries to walk, he stops with a growl. His right hand clenches, but his left hand remains still at his side as if it’s useless. Normally people would clench both of their hands in anger; it’s a bodily response that needs to happen at the same time, or it would not sit well with the body.
“Don’t tell me you’re… so stiff that you can’t walk?” Another taunt from Scarletta gets a stressed growl from Braxton. “You don’t seem bothered by it. Is this not the first time?”
Cal decides to step in, just as the prosecutor leaves out the door. “Don’t associate yourself with a murder; let’s go. We’ll talk at home.”
He takes her back to the courtroom first, leaving me and the other two behind. I spin around, cracking one finger, and their shoulders flinch at the silent aggression rolling off my body. They need to have this idea in their head that I will fucking destroy them with my bare hands if they put one scratch on my precious Scarletta.
“Don’t do anything, Berkshire.”
The warning in the air gets thicker over the seconds that tick away, and I turn away to leave.
