by Aray Brown
“Call the first witness.” The judge said.
“I’d like to call Mr. Forbes to the stand.” The prosecutor said.
A slender well-groomed man came forward, handkerchief in hand, and advanced the podium. The bailiff swore him in.
“Mr. Forbes, how long have you been a medical examiner?” She asked.
“Twenty years.” He said.
“So, one can assume you’ve seen just about everything, “
“Just about, except this.” He said, putting on his glasses.
“Care to enlighten us?” She asked.
“The body was carved into with a butcher’s knife, almost hollowed out. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He replied, wiping the dirt off his glasses.
“Is this the knife you’re referring to?” She asked, holding the plastic bag.
“Yes.” He said.
“I present the court with Exhibit A, the murder weapon. The defendant’s fingerprints are all over it.”She said, facing the courtroom. The prosecutor grabbed the various photos of the crime scene.
“Do you recognize these?” She asked, handing them over.
“Yes “He said, awkwardly.
“In your expert opinion, could you shed some light on the type of person who would do this?”She asked.
“See these violent strokes right here? The killer has a perverse deep-seeded hatred towards her. He wanted to make her suffer, a jilted lover perhaps.” He said.
“Is it possible the killer could be a woman?” The prosecutor asked.
“Absolutely not, nothing of this magnitude.” The medical examiner said.
“Thank you. No further questions, your witness.” She said.
Spoonie straightened his suit and walked toward the witness stand as if he held all the cards. He had cases like this but not as personal, none that hit home. His only line of defense was to discredit the witnesses. Spoonie would soon find out if thirty years of law school paid off.
“Mr. Forbes, Lewis Hubert Forbes of 950 E 104th Place. That’s you right?” Spoonie asked, stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“You know it and I know it. What’s the meaning of this?” He asked.
“Stick to the facts Mr. Hamilton.” The judge said, sternly.
“Look at those photos again. What do you see?” Spoonie asked.
“I see a tortured woman.” He said, combed the photos.
“A tortured woman with a 4 week old fetus, yet the autopsy report that you administered showed no record of it correct?” Spoonie asked.
“Yes but--“
“But you went over it countless times did you not?” Spoonie interrupted.
“Yes. I wanted to make sure.” The medical examiner said.
“And did you?” Spoonie asked.
“Yes. I took a sample of the baby’s blood. The DNA was inconclusive.”
“Were you aware that she was also raped? Or did you manage to overlook that as well.” Spoonie replied.
“Objection.” The prosecutor said.
“Overruled.” Said the judge.
“I present Exhibit B to the court, the DNA test results from the sperm sample found inside the victim, which verifies that my client is not the donor.” Spoonie announced, handed it to the judge.
“The victim was raped twenty-two hours before the murder. It holds no precedence.” Mr. Forbes said.
“Everything holds precedence Mr. Forbes. I’m sure if we had Alex Price’s sperm it will attest that he’s been behind this from the very beginning.” Spoonie replied, losing his composure.
“Alex Price is not on trial.” The prosecutor chimed in.
“Maybe he should be on trial!” Spoonie said, paused.
“Nothing further.” Spoonie said, went back to his chair, and eyed his notes.
“The people call Medina Price to the stand.”She said.
The bailiff ushered her in. Medina made her way to the pedestal, eyed the crowd. Another bailiff swore her in. She looked at Maize. Maize looked back at her.
“Put your hand on the bible. Raise your right hand and repeat after me. I, Medina Price do solemnly swear.”The bailiff said.
“I, Medina Price do solemnly swear.”She recited.
“To tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”The bailiff finished.
“To tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” She replied.
The woman leveled from the uncomfortable chair. Medina counted the steps as she sauntered to the base. The woman wanted justice and she would do anything to get it, even if it hurt innocent people in the process. Her kind of justness was blind. All she had to do was convince a jury what she believed to be true. She was convinced he was guilty without looking at all the facts. And in this case, the information spoke louder than facts ever could.
14.
Medina and her stepfather exchanged gazes once more. She fidgeted with her hands, then hair. Taking deep breaths made her more relaxed. Medina looked at the jurors, then the crowd. Among them was a squirrely man. He was both Korean and Filipino. He had an off-white complexion and dark eyes. For a moment she was under his spell. Then without warning she panted.
“Are you alright?” The prosecutor said, noticed a change in her demeanor.
Medina nodded her head effortlessly, reassured her nothing was wrong. She knew that was farther from the truth. Why is he here? She thought. It was clear the man was here for one reason.
“Are you able to continue?” The judge asked, concerned.
She gave another nod.
“You may precede Ms. Mills.” The judge ordered swiveled back in his chair.
“Medina, do you love your mother?”
“Of course I do.”
“Would you do anything for her?”
“Yes.”
“Even it means sending someone you love to jail for a long time?” The woman asked, slowly getting to the point.
Medina looked at Maize, then the squirrely man.
“Yes.”
“Good. Can you think back to that night and tell us what occurred, step by step.” She said.
Medina flashbacked to the awful night, where she not only lost a mother but the real father she ever had.
“It was late. Mother waited up for him. Isabel and I were asleep. It was past our bedtime. Isabel woke me up; she thought she heard a burglar. The next thing we heard were muffled voices. They were getting louder.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“Yes. It was my mother and father. They were arguing. I don’t know what about but it was heated.” Medina replied, telling a half truth.
“She let out a blood curdling scream…then BANG!” Isabel said, giving her testimony, making a gun gesture.
Isabel nearly startled the whole room. Her words commanded attention, much like her twin. Jurors found themselves on the edge of their proverbial seats.
The squirrely man hung on to her ever word, hoping she would keep their promise.
“We were scared. We ran downstairs calling her name. She didn’t answer. We reached the bottom of the stairs…that’s when we saw him….our father standing over her body with the gun in his hand.
“That’s not how it happened!” Maize blurted out.
“Mr. Hamilton, control your client!” The judge demanded.
“Do you see your father anywhere in this courtroom?” The prosecutor asked.
“He’s sitting next to Mr. Hamilton.” Isabel said, pointed to him.
Maize opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out.
“Calm down man. They don’t know what they’re saying.” Spoonie said in a whisper.
“Was there anyone else in that house?” The prosecutor asked.
“No.” Isabel lied.
“Are you certain?” She asked.
“One hundred percent.” Isabel confirmed.
“No further questions, your witness counselor.” She said, and then plopped in her seat. He sprung out from the chair, ready to
address the court and put his strategy to work. Maize grabbed his arm in an effort to gain his sympathy. He didn’t want the twins to relive something that would torment them behind their wildest dreams. He decided it was in their best interest. What was in his?
“What? Are you crazy? This is the only shot we have.” Spoonie whispered.
“They’ve been through the ringer.” Maze replied.
“So have you.” Spoonie retorted.
“I don’t want them to undergo anymore pain.” Maize said.
“Mr. Hamilton.” The judge beckoned.
“That’s admirable. But that’s also stupid. I know you care about those kids. But what kind of father can you be to them, in prison for the rest of your life?” Spoonie asked.
“Mr. Hamilton, we’re waiting.” The judge said.
“Trust me; I know what I’m doing.” He jerked his arm back, addressed the witness.
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Maize said, hoping that he would take it easy on them. He hardly showed mercy when it came to the courtroom. Didn’t matter the age. He treated everyone the same
“In your earlier statements, you found it hard to believe that my client committed this crime, correct?” Spoonie asked, looking at her.
“Yes.” Isabel said.
“Why the sudden change of heart?” Spoonie asked.
“What do you mean?” Isabel asked, coyly.
“You believe Mr. Blevins did it. Without a shadow of doubt you absolutely believe he slaughtered your mother. Why?” Spoonie asked, scrunching up his face.
“Why not?” Isabel said, curtly.
“You said you were in bed sleeping correct?” Spoonie asked.
“Yes.” Isabel replied.
“What time did you two go to bed?” Spoonie asked.
“Ten.” Medina said.
“Does your mother normally let you stay up on a school night?”
“No. It was an exception.” Medina said.
“You heard a noise, and then muffled voices. Zoe screams. Then the gun goes off. You hurried downstairs, saw my client standing over her body, those are your correct words, right?”
“Yes” Medina uttered.
“And what time was that?” Spoonie asked.
“A little before midnight, I guess.” Medina said.
“Do you know an innocent man’s life hangs in a balance all due to your guestimate? Is that fair?” Spoonie said, sternly.
“Objection! Argumentative.” The prosecutor defended.
“Sustained.” The judge decreed.
“Withdrawn. Was her body mutilated?” He asked.
“Objection! She has been exposed to enough turmoil.” The woman jumped out of her chair.
“Why do we have her as a witness at all if she can’t answer a simple question?” Spoonie turned to the judge, and then scratched his stubble.
“I’ll allow it. Answer the question child.” The judge said in a low tone.
The woman was furious. She sat and watched the whole spectacle, her concentrated stare pulsating down his back as if her hazel eyes were lasers and could annihilate him with one movement.
Spoonie had his suspicions about her and her so-called practice. She had built quite a reputation for getting certain people off in exchange for a large sum of blood money. No one knew her motivation behind it. Nor will they ever know.
“I don’t understand.” Medina said, put on a false front. She played her part well, too well. They bought it, all but one. To him, she was transparent. Why is she doing this? What is she hiding? He thought. Spoonie scanned the audience. The seats were occupied by members of the press and friends of the family. Then the back row, the squirrely man sat, legs halfway crossed, an old baseball cap shielding his face. Who is he? What business does he have here? Have I seen him before?
The judge broke his focus.
“Mr. Hamilton, time’s a wasting.”
He jerked his head back.
“I’m sorry your honor. Uh, where was I?”
The court reporter went back to the last question, read it aloud.
“Yes of course. Was she carved into or did he make you watch?”
15.
Those words cut her like a knife. Her mind went blank. In a flash the courtroom was as black as night, except Medina wasn’t in the courtroom. Somehow she had found a way to travel in her mind. She glided along a dark stairwell. An impertinent stench permeated the air. Medina squeezed the rail, trudged down the stairs and then slowly crept in the living room. Zoe lay in the center, in her own blood. The bullet lodged in her forehead. Eyes open.
The squirrely man extracted the butcher’s knife and carved her like a thanksgiving turkey. Medina screamed. Nothing came out. It was like her voice was nonexistent. The thick trail of blood moved closer to her. She couldn’t move. It kept coming. Soon it was all over her, cloaking her.
Medina’s face turned white as a sheet. Spoonie and the judge were concerned.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
There was no answer. The onlookers and the jury were mystified. They never witnessed anything of this magnitude before.
He repeated the question. There was still no response. Medina couldn’t hear him or anyone else. Spoonie called out her name to no avail. Medina struggled to free herself. There was no use.
Maize was more worried than ever, afraid she was in a world that wasn’t hers. Medina was trapped between a realm that preyed on the fears and weaknesses of others, where evil was waiting to take form.
A figure shrouded in black clothing strode toward her, the wicked laughter enclosing her.
“Medina. Don’t be scared. I’ve been watching, waiting. You and your sister belong to me now.” The shrouded figure said in a deep and raspy voice, taking a step further.
“Let me go! Let me go!” Medina bellowed.
“You belong to me now!” His tone was powerful and earth-shattering.
“I belong to no one!” She fought him off, and then ran further away.
“You can’t escape me. You’re mine.” He said in a breathy murmur.
Medina wanted to get out of this ill-gotten place and never return. She had a strange feeling that the voice was none other than her biological father. What does this mean? A small opening became visible. She made tracks toward it as it started to close. Then…..she let out a squeal that made everyone in the courthouse skin crawl. Another shriek followed. The judge and jurors took pity on her.
“Medina. Medina it’s alright. You’re safe now. You’re safe.” Spoonie soothed her
The lawyers were baffled. They wouldn’t forget it as long as they lived.
“We’ll reconvene tomorrow at 0900 hours. Court is adjourned.” The judge concluded.
Medina fingered the seating in the back row. It was empty. The squirrely man had gone....and took her security along with him.
Was it a dream? Was it a hallucination? And if it was...no it had to be real. She thought.
It had depicted parts of what she knew deep down to be true. It was bound to resurface. The man that did the evil deed was still unclear, at least for now. Until the twins get their memory back. The squirrely man had a hand in it, that they were certain of, and one more. They were coerced to stand up against Maize.
They cleared the courtroom, one by one. Medina and Isabel ran to their prospective parents, who put on a show for everyone involved. Arms outstretched, they acted like the complete opposite of who they were.
Maize smiled and introduced himself, extracting his hand.
“I know who you are. Stay away from us.” The mysterious woman said, scrunching her nose as she made a grand exit.
“That goes both ways. Isabel belongs to me. She’s not daddy’s little girl anymore. She’s Donovan’s little girl.” The stocky man said, showing off his sardonic smile.
Maize took a step forward. His lawyer pushed him back, had an inkling what was going through his mind.
“You really want another assault charge? You’re playing right into hi
s hands.” Spoonie whispered.
“Get out of here.” Spoonie demanded, giving the stocky man an icy glare.
“I got something to do anyway, c’mon sweetheart.” Donovan said.
He approached Maize and whispered in his ear.
“She’s going to be my private dancer.”
Donovan straightened his collar “And don’t worry, this will be the best money she’s ever made.”
Fueled by rage, Maize walked out of the courthouse, determined not to give the sleazy businessman the satisfaction of getting under his skin.
“Was it something I said?” Donovan asked, slyly.
“Do you know that perjury is punishable by the state of Illinois? It’s a very serious offense.” Spoonie said, hoping to squeeze the truth out of her.
“Yes. I’m not lying.” Medina said.
“Is it true that Alex Price killed your mother and told you to pin it on my client? You always went out of your way to please him, like a good little girl.” Spoonie pressed.
“It’s not true! He did it! He killed her! He did it! He killed her!” Medina said, repeatedly as if she was stark raving mad, motioned to the defendant.
“That’s all your honor.” He said, returning to his post.
“You may step down.” Reassuringly, the judge said, swayed his head from side to side. He had seen it all.
Medina staggered out of the room and went back to that small crawl space that added a level of comfort.
The trial had attracted the media’s attention. Everything she tried to keep hidden would be on WICS ABC20, where it would reach who knows how many people. She wanted to be invisible. To be left alone.
The reporters berated them with questions they weren’t prepared to answer. The stocky man threatened the cameraman, and then shamelessly flirted with the female reporter.
“The defense calls Maize Blevins to the stand.” He announced, pressed his hands firmly on the table.
