Then Phelia Lamar followed, what Paul had said nothing in comparison to the girl’s testimony. She looked almost gleeful standing up there, the perfect place to get back at me. She was dressed like the innocent girl she wasn’t, wearing what looked like a Sunday school dress, all white, as if the little vixen was pure. Not the girl I’d caught on my first day at Wera High, dancing on a desk, with a skirt so short all the boys were looking up it.
Though, Phelia’s gleeful look quickly left her pretty face when my lawyer asked, “Did you lie to the police about being with Dante Rata when he was accused of killing Ronald McDonald?”
The courtroom went from quiet to raucous within seconds. People were laughing, while a gang member at the back yelled, “Fuck the DC!” the majority probably thinking Ronald’s name was a joke.
The judge banged her gavel more than once, shouting, “Order! Order!”
The courtroom went quiet again, minus a few sniggers, mostly coming from the gang members.
The judge shook her head, her wrinkled face unamused. “May I remind you, Mr. Riley,” she said, levelling my lawyer with a look of disapproval, “that this is a courtroom, not comedy night.”
“I assure you, your Honour, that I wasn’t making a joke,” my lawyer replied. “Ronald McDonald is the real name of a boy who was murdered, along with his mother. The police originally thought that Dante Rata was responsible for the murders. Phelia Lamar gave him an alibi, one that has since been proven false by an undercover police officer. This proves that she has lied to authorities before, so how can we trust what she says now?”
The judge nodded her head and turned to face Phelia. “If you lie, you will be committing perjury, which carries a maximum sentence of fourteen years.”
Phelia’s caramel-coloured skin turned white.
“So, young lady,” the judge continued. “I would advise that you speak only the truth.”
Phelia opened her mouth, looking almost panicked. “I had to lie to the police for Dante or the Devil’s Crew would’ve killed him. I wuz protecting Dante, cos the cops got things wrong. I had no choice. He could’ve died.” She started crying. “I love Dante, would’ve done anything for him, still would do anything for him. He’s the world to me.”
The lawyer went to cut her off, but she continued.
“And he wouldn’t be lying in a coma if it weren’t for Mrs. Hatton.” Her eyes went to me. “She stole him from me! She constantly punished me when I touched him, and wuz always sending me to the principal’s office or yelling at me to get away from Dante.”
My lawyer waved his hand in the air. “The question wasn’t about you; it was—”
She cut him off again. “It is about me!” Phelia jabbed a finger at her chest. “Dante would’ve stayed with me if that bitch didn’t seduce him.” She pointed to me. “Look at her, she’s beautiful. What boy would say no to her? None. And now he’s in a coma cos of her—”
“That’s enough,” my lawyer said.
“No, it’s not!” Phelia yelled back, her eyes going to the judge. “She’s a bad woman; she’s responsible for Dante gettin’ hurt.”
“I’m finished with the witness!” my lawyer snapped.
But Phelia continued to speak badly of me, the judge finally telling her to stop. She left the stand crying, looking like a scared young girl, upset for the boyfriend she’d lost to me, the jury unaware that Dante didn’t like her. If anything, she came across as another victim, while I looked like an even bigger villain.
Then Lindy took the stand. Unlike Phelia, my other pupil looked terrified. It made her appear even younger, skinner, and paler. And for the first time, I saw her without the emo makeup and piercings, the girl’s fresh face enhancing her innocent appearance.
My lawyer walked up to her. “Did you see Dante Rata at any time touch the defendant in a sexual manner?”
Lindy looked my way, as though she was asking for my permission to speak. I almost nodded at her, but held back, knowing it could be misconstrued.
She let out a shaky breath. “Yes,” she answered my lawyer’s question.
“Where did you see this?”
“I walked in on him kissing Mrs. Hatton in her office.”
Someone yelled out, “Filthy paedo!”
The judge banged her gavel, barking, “Be quiet or you will be escorted out of the courtroom.”
I looked behind me, seeing the man with the long, greasy hair point at me. “She kidnapped my mate’s kid and now he’s lying in hospital in a coma ’cause that filthy paedo couldn’t keep her filthy hands off the boy. She deserves to suffer for it!”
“Sir—”
“I ain’t no fuckin’ sir, and do your bloody job instead of terrifying kids on the stand. We all know this bitch is guilty!”
The gang members burst out yelling, “Justice for Dante!”
The judge banged her gavel, ordering the security officers to remove them. A fight broke out, the gang attacking the officers, all hell breaking loose. Something was thrown my way, hitting me on the head. I didn’t see what it was, because my lawyer and an officer were already dragging me towards the far door.
I looked back, shouting, “Dad!”
He scrambled over the divider between where I’d sat and his seating, running for me. Another officer pushed him back. I cried out for him, getting shoved through the doorway. Then the door closed, only the yells of the fight following me down the corridor.
***
I saw the paper the next day. Several people had been arrested. ‘Gang Members’ the newspaper had called them. My lawyer was happy about it.
“No, this is a good thing,” he said, smiling at me. “Before, people thought Dante was an innocent fifteen-year-old schoolboy, a young kid, but now this fight has made the reporters aware that he was a gang member, arrested multiple times for drugs and stealing.”
I covered my face, not happy that the press was painting Dante as a thug. I didn’t care if it was in my favour. He couldn’t even escape judgement while in a coma.
My lawyer reached across the small table and placed a hand on my arm. “Honestly, Clara, this fight works in your favour.”
I didn’t reply. I just wanted the trial to be over and most of all, for Dante to wake up.
***
I was back in the courtroom two days later. It was nowhere near as full this time, the judge only allowing family members and people connected to the witnesses to watch. Though, I could hear chanting outside, “Lock up the paedo!” their favourite mantra. I’d been ushered in through the backway since the front was swarming with people, my lawyer telling me it was turning in to a media circus.
The trial picked up right where it had left off, with Lindy back up on the stand. She still looked scared, her gaze practically pleading with me to help her through the questions. But I couldn’t even help myself, let alone her.
“What did you see when you walked into the defendant’s office?” my lawyer asked her.
“Dante Rata was holding Mrs. Hatton against the wall,” Lindy said. “He had her squashed against it. And she did try to push him away, I saw it with my own eyes. She’s just too nice to admit it. I know she left Auckland with him, but he was the aggressor, not Mrs. Hatton. He probably forced her to do it, not the other way around. And I read he was the one driving the car, not Mrs. Hatton, so she can’t have kidnapped him. If anything, I wouldn’t be surprised if he kidnapped her.”
My lawyer nodded as though he thought her nonsense was a real possibility. “Did you see Dante Rata act inappropriately towards Mrs. Hatton at any other time?”
Lindy nodded vigorously. “He came into school drunk once. Mrs. Hatton tried to help him to the sickbay, but he pushed her against a locker and forced a kiss on her. She shoved him away that time, too. He tripped and fell. She tried to help him up, but he pulled her down on top of him. She broke free and told him to stay away from her. He was also really rude to her in class, always saying offensive sexual stuff. She told him off every single time, even sen
t him to the principal’s office more than once. She also gave him detention, so it’s not true about her giving him special treatment. And he got that Othello part because he has the best voice in the whole school, so again, no favouritism.”
My lawyer continued to nod at her, probably revelling in her testimony. But for me, I wasn’t sure I liked what she was saying, because it was painting Dante in a bad light. It almost felt like the court was pitting me and Dante against each other, throwing us into a ring, making us competitors, slugging it out through the witnesses and the lawyers, rather than showing us for what we really were: two people deeply in love with each other who just wanted to be together.
Lindy continued her vitriol against Dante. “And it wasn’t just Mrs. Hatton he got in trouble. He got my Maths teacher fired as well, lying about her sexually harassing him. He’s really bad, and he’s in a gang. He even ran another English teacher off last year. He called her a racist, and climbed onto his desk and mooned her. He ruins everything.” She started crying. “Mrs. Hatton was the best teacher I had. Please don’t punish her. She’s nice, she’s good. Dante’s the bad one. He’s evil. He should be in jail.”
My lawyer looked at the judge. “I have no further questions for this witness, your Honour,” words I wished he hadn’t said, because what was to come from the prosecution made me want to scream.
“Are you in love with the defendant?” the prosecutor asked, staring directly at Lindy, his stare penetrating.
She wilted, her expression horrified. Her gaze flicked to someone in the courtroom. I looked back to see who it was, but couldn’t pinpoint whether she was looking at her parents or the girl next to them.
“You must answer the question,” the prosecutor said.
“Yes,” she croaked out, dropping her gaze.
“Did you give her a gift?”
“Yes,” Lindy repeated.
“What was it?”
She didn’t reply, her gaze flicking to the same person.
Instead of insisting that she answer the question, the prosecutor walked over to a table and picked up a box. He headed back to Lindy, placing the box in front of her, pulling out a—
“Is this the necklace you gave the defendant?” he asked Lindy, holding up the one she’d left on my desk with a secret admirer’s note.
“Yes,” she said, looking ashamed, her eyes dropping again.
The prosecutor turned, showing the jury the necklace, along with asking for it to be noted that Lindy had acknowledged it. Once done, he turned back to her. “Do you know where this necklace was found?”
She shook her head, her eyes flicking to me as if I’d told him. But I hadn’t. I also had no idea where the prosecutor was going with this thread or how he’d even gotten the necklace. Maybe I’d left it at home, my husband having handed it over. I did mention to Markus that a student had given it to me. He could’ve assumed it was from Dante. Or maybe the police had swept my house, scouring it for evidence. Though, I wondered how the prosecutor knew it was from Lindy, since she didn’t appear to want to talk about it.
The prosecutor turned to the jury. “The victim’s father found this necklace in his son’s room while clearing it,” he said, answering one of my questions. “A poem written by the victim was wrapped around it.”
He walked over to the table and placed the necklace back in its box, then picked up a piece of paper, asking permission from the judge to read it. The judge nodded, her lips pulling tight as the prosecutor read Dante’s words.
Miss
I didn’t give you my heart
Another did
A man
Who pledged his love
With a necklace
Instead of a cock
Blond hair
Instead of black
A blue gaze
Instead of brown
You didn’t give him your heart
Because I stole it
A boy
Who pledged his lust
With a cock
Instead of a necklace
Black hair
Instead of blond
And brown eyes
Instead of blue
A bastard
Who doesn’t deserve your love
But desperately
Wants it
The prosecutor stopped reading and drew closer to the jury, holding the poem out for them to see. While the jury passed the letter around, I dropped my gaze and wiped my eyes, feeling an overwhelming sadness, what Dante had written cutting me deep. I’d had no idea he’d stolen the necklace. I couldn’t remember at what point I’d lost it, if anything, I didn’t even realise I’d lost it. I also had no idea that he’d thought Markus had given it to me. He probably assumed I’d lied that day all those months ago about it being from a secret admirer, a foolish attempt to make him jealous.
But he was wrong.
Although I’d wanted to make him jealous, I had never worn Markus’s heart—only Dante’s on my sleeve.
The prosecutor returned to Lindy. “Where did you get the neckless?” he asked, again making me wonder how he knew it was from her.
Her eyes darted to her family. I glanced back, catching her mother nodding at Lindy, her expression pained.
“It’s my mother’s,” Lindy said.
“Did she give you permission to give it to the defendant?”
Lindy dropped her gaze and shook her head.
“Please answer so the jury can hear you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Why did you take it?”
“I wanted to give Mrs. Hatton something as nice as she was.” Lindy looked back up. “How did you know about it? Did Melanie open her big fat mouth?” She glared across the courtroom at someone. I looked behind me, spotting a girl I recognised from detention, the thick layer of makeup over her freckles hard to forget.
“Your friend isn’t on trial here,” the prosecutor said.
“She’s not my friend, she’s my cousin,” Lindy retorted. “And she had no right to tell anyone. She only did it to spite me for telling on Dante. All the girls have a crush on him. He got whoever he wanted, going through them like dominoes, knocking one down after another. He even hit Phelia—”
“He didn’t hit Phelia!” I yelled out without thought, her accusation upsetting me.
“You are not to speak,” the judge said. “Or you will be held in contempt.”
I wanted to say more, wanted to tell her that she couldn’t allow Lindy to dirty Dante’s name, but held back even though everything in me wanted to scream at her. But I knew they wouldn’t listen to me. They didn’t care about the truth, only what they perceived was true.
The prosecutor dismissed Lindy. She left the stand, looking at me with hurt, probably in disbelief that I’d shouted at her. But I didn’t care. I was done with trying to defend myself.
I was guilty.
While Dante was innocent, even though it felt like he was on trial just as much as I was.
Then one of the names I’d been dreading was called out.
Mr. Tane Rata.
Dante’s father headed down the aisle in a black suit, his tattooed face at odds with his attire. He settled behind the stand, looking fierce, his dark stare still able to make me shiver in fear. I glanced around the courtroom, not surprised that all eyes were on him. He was a magnetic man, his moko adding not detracting from it.
His dark stare softened, the sadness I saw in his eyes surprising me. I’d expected anger, not sadness, blame, not hurt. The prosecutor asked him a question, my mind too preoccupied with Mr. Rata to hear it.
He closed his eyes for a moment, appearing to be composing himself, then reopened them, his eyes filled with even more pain. “My son isn’t right, I know that. He’s mentally unstable, but wuz coping with his illness until that woman,” he pointed at me, “came into his life. Before she started working at his school, my boy wuz finally settling down, not causing so much trouble. He wuz being a kid again. Playing PlayStation games with hi
s friends, joking about, returning to a place where I thought I had the old Dante back. Then school started and he began acting up. I just thought it wuz cos he hated school. He doesn’t like being told what to do and gets bored easily. Then suddenly everything changed again. He got up early and wuz keen to go to school; he even joined the musical and got the lead role in Othello. He wuz singing around the house, doin’ really well, then another change happened just as rapidly. One day he wuz loving school, the next he wuz refusing to leave his room, yelling and throwing things around, destroying his room all cos he didn’t wanna go to school. He even got so worked up that he punched a window out in his bedroom, then showed me his hand, declaring he couldn’t go cos he wuz hurt. I wuz understandably upset, so I went to his principal to ask for help. And that woman,” he pointed at me again, “lied to my face, pretending she didn’t know why Dante didn’t wanna go to school, even offering her help to get him back.”
He shook his head, his distraught expression having an effect on the court. Everyone appeared enraptured by him, their eyes glued to the man. He was compelling to look at, stunning in his anguish.
“When I found out the truth ’bout what she did,” he continued. “I went a li’l crazy. I wanted to find her and make her pay for it. Then Dante phoned me, threatening that if I hurt her he wouldn’t see me again. He chose her over me. I wuz so fuckin’ angry, but most of all, I wuz hurt. I hated her even more cos of it. But then he rang me back, apologising, saying he loved me, but he also loved her. And he wuzn’t lying.” He exhaled. “I’ve had someone recently tell me they love me. Dante sounded the same when he declared his love for his teacher. I could hear the sincerity in his voice as much as this person who declared their love for me. But words aren’t the only means to convey love.” His dark gaze returned to me. “I know you didn’t cause the accident, I know the other car wuz at fault. I spoke to the man who helped rescue Dante, found out you went back into the burning car for him.” A tear dropped onto his tattooed cheek. “You risked your life to save my boy. That’s love. I can’t hate you for that.” He went to say something else, but the prosecutor cut him off, his testimony obviously not what the lawyer had expected to hear.
Jagged Pill (Broken Lives Book 3) Page 21
