And I’ve known Zac long enough to know he’s not a cold blooded killer. He shot Jacob in the heat of the moment. And by the way, doesn’t anyone know that I called 911 AND the police screaming to them about what was happening and no one believed me?”
The courtroom was silent. My little outburst had given Mr. Lowe a reaction he wasn’t looking for, probably. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
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“If this was any kind of conspiracy, it was one to kill Sam. None of the people accused here are petty enough to kill a loser.” It probably didn’t help that I called Jacob a loser, but I thought the whole statement was pretty purposeful.
“No more questions,” Mr. Lowe said softly, walking back to Zac. Zac smiled at me thankfully and I nodded to him.
“Ms. Hawskins, did you just call my client a loser?”
“In high school terms, Jacob Fastner is a loser,” I said flatly. I refused to go back on what I’d said.
“Did you ever bully him?”
“No. I’ve never bullied anyone. Like I said, I’m not that petty.”
“But, didn’t you say that the only bullying you ever see is name-calling? Did you not just call my client a name?”
Oops. Bit of a trap there.
“I’m sorry,” I said as sincerely as I could, looking that murderous asshole right in the face. “It was the most accurate word for his place on the totem pole I could think of.”
I heard the jury shuffle, and when I looked at them, they were all staring at me intently, as if they believed what I said. The prosecutor started to open her mouth, but I spoke before she could.
“I want to talk about my 911 call,” I said. The prosecutor swallowed hard.
“Uh, I have that,” Mr. Lowe said, standing up on shaking legs.
“Why didn’t you say anything, Mr. Lowe?” the judge asked, rolling her eyes.
“I – I forgot,” Mr. Lowe admitted sheepishly.
My 911 tape was filled with cuss words – you could easily tell how pissed off I was. And, of course, no one believed a word I said. They all thought it was some stupid prank the South kids were playing on the night of their prom. Assholes.
“A-a-as you can see,” Mr. Lowe stuttered, “Ms. Hawskins did make the call. She truly did have a broken nose, Ms. Steele was truly stabbed, and Mr. Fastner’s fingerprints were found not
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only on the knife but also on Ms. Hawskins’ steering wheel and car door.”
The jury looked troubled. I wondered what had happened before my testimony. Then I smiled – the fact they looked so troubled probably meant I was turning things in Zac’s favor. At least if Mitch’s deductions were true, that is.
For Zac’s sake, I hoped they were.
“No more questions,” the prosecutor said, sitting down, looking worried. I smiled.
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Zac
Macy’s testimony had really put things in my favor –
well, more than they were anyway. If things went right when Mitch testified next, I’d have it in the bag (even with my wimpy lawyer).
“Your honor, the prosecution calls Mr. Anthony Bell to the stand,” the prosecutor said.
I blanched. All the blood ran straight to my heart. I was completely terrified. James was just as freaked – and he was definitely not trying to hide it.
“Why are they calling my father?” I whispered. “Can they even do that? He’s in prison!”
“So are you,” James whispered back. “I’m scared because you are – why are we scared?” he added fearfully. I didn’t answer; he didn’t know my father went to jail for me and I didn’t think he needed to.
I swallowed hard and knew my case was totally lost. I hadn’t visited my father in more than six months – he was probably going to reveal my secret and try to get his ass out of jail.
“That mother fucking –”
My father appeared in the doorway. He gave me a smug smile as the bailiff led him by the elbow to the witness stand. His hands and feet were chained together, just like mine were.
Like father like son, his expression seemed to say.
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“Mr. Bell, has your son ever shown any signs of violence?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes, he has,” my father said.
“How severe?”
“Extremely. He killed someone.”
The jury let out a collective gasp and I just about threw up. After Eric’s testimony, and the disaster with Annika’s, the jury would readily believe my father (and hey, he was serious). There was no way I’d win this one.
“Who did he murder?” the prosecutor asked. All the worry Macy’s testimony had caused was completely gone now.
“A man. Real loser, probably deserved to die.”
“You don’t mean my client, do you, Mr. Bell?”
“Nope, sure don’t.”
“Do you remember the man’s name?”
“Not off the top of my head, no.”
“Mr. Bell, what did you go to prison for?”
“Saving my ungrateful son’s ass.”
“Could you clarify, please?”
“The man Zac killed? I told the police I did it. I went to prison for him.”
“And why did you do that, Mr. Bell?” the prosecutor asked, ignoring the jury’s profound shock.
“Because he’s my son. I thought that if I saved him that one time, he’d become a better man. Learn from my mistakes. But he didn’t. He almost killed that poor boy over there,” he gestured to Jacob. “He needs to pay for his actions.”
“Your witness,” the prosecutor said almost gleefully, tossing her hair over her shoulder and returning to her seat next to Jacob. It was a disgusting display of confidence.
“Why did Zac murder this nameless man, Mr. Bell?”
James asked, buttoning his suit jacket and smoothing it down the front. My dad shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t know,” he lied.
“Did you see him murder the man?”
“No, I came home afterward and had to clean up the mess, so to speak.”
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“Mr. Bell, is it true you have a history of violence?”
“Depends on your definition of violence,” my dad said gruffly. How clever.
“My definition is the same as anyone else’s. Did you not get arrested for domestic violence four times before you were convicted of first degree murder?”
“Well, uh, yeah I was.”
James gave the jury a sidelong look. The members were starting to look a little troubled again, like they had when Macy made her statement.
“Why did you – or Zac – kill the man?”
“I don’t know why Zac did it.”
“Did you not say in your statement to the police that the man was raping your daughter, Lily?”
“Well,” my dad fidgeted in his seat, “that is what we told the cops.”
“But, it’s not the truth?”
“I don’t know why Zac did it,” my dad repeated.
“Were there any witnesses?”
“No,” my father lied.
“So, your daughter, Lily, wasn’t there? And neither was Mitchell Mantel?”
“Well, uh, yeah I guess they were.”
“Well, they did make statements. They are in the police report. Mr. Mantel was upstairs the entire time, but your daughter saw everything, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“I didn’t ask you that.”
“She saw.”
“Ladies and gentleman of the jury,” James said, turning to address the jurors. “Even if my client had murdered the man, the man was raping Lily. We have a police statement saying this is so, and the statements of all four witnesses. Although Mr. Bell here was convicted of first degree murder, he was protecting his daughter. Even if my client, Mr. Bell’s son
, had killed this first victim, if would have been in the almost the same situation as that in question. He was protecting someone he cared about. I would
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also like to mention that this man had a name, and it Carl Shaeffer. He was a criminal himself.”
I was staring at James, a little shocked he’d taken the time to look up that much about my father, about the case. He was really stepping up. The jurors looked extremely torn by now and I wondered which direction they were leaning in. I hoped like hell it was mine.
“No more questions,” James said in a high pitched voice, tossing his rather short hair and mimicking the prosecutor.
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Mitch
It was a relief to finally get called in to testify. I’d been sitting on that hard wooden bench for hours, watching my friends go in and out but never being allowed to talk to them for very long. I hoped the trial was nearly at an end, but I wasn’t sure. I also hoped Zac would win, but I wasn’t sure about that, either.
The prosecutor looked like she was desperately trying to stay smug. However, she wasn’t doing that great of a job. The jury looked like they’d been through hell and really wanted to get home. I did, too.
“Mr. Mantel, we’ve been waiting for you,” the prosecutor sneered.
“I’ve just been out there on the bench,” I said with a smile.
“You’re the defendant’s best friend, correct?”
“Correct.”
“You trust him, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Do you believe he trusts you?”
“Of course.”
“So, it’s perfectly reasonable to assume he would risk jail time to save a girl that you’re dating?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so.”
“You guess so. What is your relationship with Ms. Steele like?”
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“I – I love her,” I admitted, getting a little red. I wasn’t an overly open person, and talking about such personal things was a little weird for me.
“Objection,” Mr. Lowe called in a fairly calm voice (which betrayed his freaked out face). “Relevancy?”
“Mr. Mantel has been said to love Ms. Steele – since he is under suspicion of conspiracy to murder with the defendant it is a perfectly applicable question. My client claims Mr. Mantel was the one to stab Ms. Steele – their relationship status is a reasonable question,” the prosecutor said.
“Objection overruled,” said the judge. Mr. Lowe sat down in a huff.
“You know you are under oath, Mr. Mantel,” the prosecutor said to me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you stab Ms. Steele?”
“Objection! Your honor she is berating the witness! And who’s on trial here? Mr. Mantel or my client?”
“Counselor?” the judge questioned.
“Question withdrawn,” the prosecutor said. “Let’s talk about the past, Mr. Mantel. Were you a witness to the previous murder committed by the defendant?”
“He’s never murdered anyone,” I lied. I like to think I could talk about that situation and lie extremely convincingly; it had been so long I’d nearly convinced myself Zac didn’t do it.
“So you think Mr. Bell, the defendant’s father, committed the crime?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Did you see the murder occur?”
“No, I was upstairs. But I heard the gunshot, and all the noise.”
“So you really have no idea who shot the man?”
“It was Anthony Bell, ma’am. Zac was upstairs with me.
His father’s prints were on the gun. He admitted to it.” For some reason, everyone in the courtroom looked at me like I was an idiot when I said Zac’s dad admitted to the murder.
“And you went downstairs after you heard the shot?”
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“Yes.”
The prosecutor paced the room for a moment, thinking hard. Finally she turned to me.
“Have you ever lied for the defendant? Any lie. Even a little one.”
“Objection, your honor. She is setting up my client for an attack,” Mr. Lowe said, jumping up out of his seat.
“Ms. Port, where are you going with this?” asked the judge.
“If Mr. Mantel felt close enough to Mr. Bell to lie for him, it is possible he lied and said Mr. Bell’s father was the killer.
He may also be lying now.”
“Mr. Mantel, I must remind you that you are under oath.
You must tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
You swore to do so,” the judge warned.
“Yes, sir,” I agreed, swallowing hard. I was lying my fucking face off. Zac was looking at me with a far off, distant expression – he was worried I’d cave.
I wouldn’t.
“Objection overruled,” the judge said.
“Yes,” I answered before the prosecutor could re-ask me the question. “I have lied for Zac. Once, in kindergarten, he broke a Mr. Sketch marker and got ink all over the carpet. The teacher asked who did it, and I blamed the kid with the runny nose instead of Zac. Best friends protect each other. But I swear Zac has never killed anyone, and he didn’t plan on killing Jacob.”
I must have been really convincing with that little story (which was made up on the spot) because the jury looked at me with trusting expressions. That, and the prosecutor looked kind of pissed.
“No more questions,” the prosecutor mumbled.
Mr. Lowe stood up with a slightly more pleasant expression than before. He slowly walked – strutted – over the witness stand, giving me a slightly reassuring smile.
“Would you tell the court your GPA, please, Mr.
Mantel?” he asked. Odd question to ask…
“Uh, 3.8. Why?”
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“Have you ever gotten in trouble at school or with the law, Mr. Mantel?”
“No, sir.”
“So, I think it’s safe to say you’re a pretty good influence on Mr. Bell, correct? He has much lower grades than you, he had to switch to SAVE so he could graduate – it’s good to have friends like you, right?”
Zac’s jaw dropped. He looked pissed. Why was his own lawyer talking trash about him?
“Well, uh, yeah I guess,” I said slowly, not sure what to say anyway. I wasn’t sure which direction Mr. Lowe was going with this.
“Some people,” Mr. Lowe accused, “believe you were part of a conspiracy to murder Mr. Fastner, and that you covered up a previous murder.” He turned away from the jury to look at me. “I don’t believe that. I believe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, both times.”
“Um, thanks,” I said, still not sure where this was going.
“You shouldn’t believe it, either,” Mr. Lowe continued, turning back to the jury. “Tell them why, Mr. Mantel.”
Ah, that’s what he wants. But how did he know? Did Zac tell him?
“Zac’s father was an evil bastard who beat the shit out of his kid on a daily basis,” I said matter-of-factly. “He once put out a cigarette on Zac’s chest. Anthony Bell’s word isn’t worth the dirt under my fingernails. I know all this because I witnessed it – on multiple occasions. His dad going to prison…” I was about to say,
“His dad going to prison was the best thing that ever happened to Zac,” but I thought that might look bad, so I finished with, “was a blessing wrapped in a disaster.”
That seemed to work on the jury, at least. About half the jurors were women, and they all looked very stunned and appalled. I hoped they all had children.
“I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, to consider this when making your final decision. If convicted, my client will not only be sent to prison, but he will be put in the adult ward where his father serves. He will be alone, in prison, with his extremely
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&n
bsp; abusive father. A father who cares so little for his son that he would try and get him convicted for two murders simultaneously.
Think about that, ladies and gentlemen. Think about that.
“No more questions.”
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Zac
“You’re the last for today,” James whispered to me while Mitch left the courtroom. His testimony had really put things in my favor – finally – and I hoped his comments about my father being abusive would change the juror’s minds. I’m glad I decided to tell James about it. None of us had any idea the prosecution would throw a curve ball like that…
“The defense calls Zachary Bell to the stand,” James called, startling me. I was lead up the witness stand. James followed, ready to question me.
“Let’s just get right to the point, shall we?” he asked. “Did you, or did you not, conspire to kill Jacob Fastner?”
“I did not.”
“Did you or did you not let your father go to jail for a murder you committed?”
“I did not.” This was actually true, taken in the literal sense. I didn’t let my dad go to prison for me – he was pretty adamant about it.
“Did your father abuse you?” James asked bluntly. I nodded.
“Mitch was right.” I unzipped my jumpsuit and pulled up the white t-shirt underneath to show the circular scar on my chest from when my dad put that cigarette out on it. The jury let out a collective gasp. “He always hurt me where no one could see.”
“Well, I think that just about sums things up,” James said, clapping his hands together. “Your witness.”
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I was a little surprised that was all he was going to say –
after all, this was our last ditch effort to win the case.
“We have no questions for the defendant,” the prosecutor said, rising to speak and then sitting back down.
Getting back to my prison cell was the best thing that had happened all day. I felt incredibly relieved to be done with court –
well, until we went back tomorrow to hear the verdict.
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Interlude
Mitch
I was the last one to arrive, and Sam just about collapsed in my arms. Being done with court was a relief, even if we wouldn’t know the verdict until the next day. I’d heard what had happened during everyone else’s testimony, finally, and we were all worried about the outcome.
Night Prowler Part One Page 27
