by Amir Sanchez
“Strike that, Your Honor. I apologize. That’s what a man does, people. He takes responsibility for his actions. Right is right, and wrong is wrong. Every citizen of the United States that commits a crime must be held responsible and punished according to the statute of the law. If not, we have no civilization. People would cause mischief beyond repair throughout the land. You, the people of the jury, have a duty to uphold the law. Please, do not be deceived by these fabricated pictures painted by the defense. Know that every picture tells a thousand stories. I look forward to you, the jury, assisting this country in ridding our communities of urban terrorists such as this man, Curtis Campbell,” he spat while pointing at Black vigorously.
After the judge sent the jury into the chambers to deliberate, he ordered a recess in the court. The people in attendance were very curious and interested to see the verdict the jury would deliver.
After two days of deliberation, the jury had finally reached a verdict. The crowd of observers seemed to have doubled, as people flooded in and around the courtroom to witness the verdict for themselves. It was common practice for the judge to question the foreman concerning the verdict.
“Foreman, have you the jury reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor. In the case of United States versus Greg Hutton, we, the jury, find the defendant not guilty of all charges!” The people in the courtroom went into a frenzy. The presiding judge banged his gavel several times to restore order. Once order was reestablished, he addressed Black’s lawyer, and strongly advised him on what should be the next step for his client.
“Counsel, I strongly recommend that you immediately check this man into a mental institution, where he could get the proper treatment necessary for him to rehabilitate his mind and have a chance to recover. Nothing further. He’s free to go.”
“Thanks for the advice, Your Honor. But you see, Mr. Campbell is not just my client but also a personal friend of mine. He’s in great hands,” the lawyer explained. As he pushed Black out of the courtroom, they passed by the federal prosecutors and agents that built the case. Not only did Black smile at them, but he also winked and slightly smirked. That drove them furious. As Black and his attorney exited the courthouse, they were approached by several media outlets that bombarded McMonagle with a host of questions.
“How does it feel, securing yet another victory in federal court?”
“Where does your client go from here?”
“Did your client fake injuries to escape justice?”
As the lawyer stopped to answer the questions, Black took notice of a set of familiar eyes that were partially hidden underneath a female Muslim garb. The intent in her eyes was obvious, and all he could do was brace himself for the attack. A dozen or so shots rang off, sending the crowd into a panic—all with the exception of two whose bodies were stretched out across the path of the courthouse.
Joe, Adam, and Amy were discussing their disappointments and lost trust in the justice system when they heard the shots sound off. Believing that it was somehow connected to Black, they sprang out of the courtroom in the direction of the shooting. They came upon the two bodies. Black’s lawyer lay dead on the ground, while Black struggled to breathe. He stared at them with fear written all over his face and started to beg for help.
“Please . . . help me . . . help . . . me!” he pleaded weakly. When Amy pulled out her phone intending to call for help, her fellow colleagues stared at her as if she were crazy.
“Wait a minute . . . It’s a miracle. He can speak again,” Joe chimed sarcastically.
“Too bad my Nextel phone won’t get any service . . . Damn phone,” Amy reported.
“Someone call an ambulance,” Joe requested in a whisper.
They all stared at each other and produced slight smiles. Remembering what he did to them, they winked back at him as he lay there dying a slow, painful death.
Epilogue
A few weeks after the trial, Gus and Trish were officially enlisted into the Federal Witness Protection Program. They were relocated to Palm Springs, California, and given new identities, a home, and even had a nice percentage of money and assets that had been seized from them, returned. After a year or so, however, they got bored with their new lifestyle.
They missed the action, respect, and status that came along with their past activities. They soon returned to their past lifestyle, but not before getting clearance from their federal employers. They’re believed to have infiltrated numerous networks on the West Coast, bringing down hundreds in their wake. They may be coming to a city near you soon. Watch out.
Connie is still on the run. She’s believed to have gotten in touch with her Spanish side, and is using her charm, wit, and beauty to frequently come and go across the Mexican border. She’s been spotted all over the West Coast, but each time authorities get close, she vanishes.
Leaf is being housed at a federal facility in Butler, North Carolina, for people with serious mental issues. His condition continues to go downhill. He rarely showers, his appearance is frightening, and he constantly talks to himself about killing Connie and Gus. At night, he calls out to his mother, brother, and Nicki before crying himself to sleep.
The number of federal inmates cooperating has soared drastically over the last year. Everybody’s snitching. Deals are secured daily that make Wall Street look like a telemarketing service. Knowing this, one must ask themselves . . . Is it worth the money?
