The Crimson Trial: A Legal Thriller

by Freya Atwood

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You were in a standard firing position. In other words, on one knee?” I persisted.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Let the record show that according to the ballistics report, Exhibit 13A, based on the impact point, the bullet must have passed over the box marked on the screen. The box behind which Officer Dizarella took cover. It must have passed no more than six inches above the top of that box. Since Officer Dizarella was kneeling behind that box, it would have passed through his upper chest as well. Officer Waters. Is there anything in your statement that you would like to change?” I said softly.

  Waters’ eyes widened. He licked his lips, eyes darting from me to the screen to the DA.

  “Don’t look at her. I’m asking the question!” I snapped. “If Hunter fired at you, your partner would be dead. Unless he was either face down on the ground or unless Hunter did not fire that shot at all. Unless he is telling the truth, and the gun was put back in his hand at your behest to make sure there was residue on his skin. To prove that he fired it.”

  “Objection!” Halden almost screamed. “Pure conjecture, Your Honor. Officer Waters is not on trial here.”

  Greene was silent for a long moment, hands joined in front of his face, fingers tapping his lips.

  “Sustained.” He said presently, fixing me with a sharp eye. “All this proves is that one of the arresting officers was not in the position his partner recalls him being in. Or that he was lying on the ground instead of kneeling. It does not prove conspiracy and I will not allow that to be suggested.”

  I forced a smile. There had been a slim hope that this line of cross examination might unravel the prosecution’s case. But only slim. Instead, it would serve as the seed of doubt. The jury had seen Waters’ testimony successfully challenged. At the very least they had to consider that his memory was not completely reliable. It would help.

  I stepped back. “No further questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

  Chapter 25

  The trial was adjourned for the day. Hunter was returned to custody. As I left the courtroom I walked into a sea of reporters. I saw them coming but didn’t react fast enough to escape. I left the courtroom and walked down a long corridor, at the end of which were two tall doors, paned with stained glass and leading to the atrium. Reporters covering the trial had tried to question me as I gathered my belongings. They were easily dismissed.

  The main pack of baying hounds however had been organized in the atrium. My mind was still on the trial as one of the doors was held open for me and the flashes hit me.

  “Jesus.” Nic breathed. “All this for Hunter Watson?”

  Halden passed us. “Enjoy the show.” She whispered before turning her professional facade up a notch for the gathered reporters.

  “Come on. Let’s sneak around them while Halden is giving her statement.” Nic said hurriedly, taking my arm.

  “I don’t think they’re here for the trial.” I said.

  I could hear my name being shouted. Reporters covering the trial shouldn’t be this hot for the defense attorney, not when they had the DA in front of them. As we tried to move to the side of the crowd, they shifted to block our way.

  “Laura! Is it true you yourself have a criminal record for possession of illegal narcotics?”

  “Laura! What do you have to say to the mothers of America after your child was taken away from you?

  “Laura! Why did you try to murder your husband?”

  I froze. It didn’t matter that half of the barked questions were untrue. It mattered that they knew. In Everwood I was a defense attorney. I had a reputation as an excellent lawyer with a perfect trial record. I was a single mother of a teenage son who was a good boy. Not anymore. They were dragging me back to Skid Row, resurrecting the life I had tried so hard to bury. And I knew who had clued them in.

  Halden was slipping away, her team around her. She flashed a triumphant smile over her shoulder as she left. A sea of phones, cameras and microphones separated us. Nic stepped in front of me, pushing me back with one hand.

  “We have no comment to make!” She called out. “This is harassment!”

  It was in vain. The wolves didn’t care. They wanted blood. There was scandal in the air and each of them wanted the exclusive. I turned and ran. A police officer who had been hurrying forward, presumably to my defense, leaped aside with a startled look as I hit the doors to the interior of the courthouse. I was dimly aware of Nic calling my name and other voices shouting at the reporters to get back.

  The corridor suddenly felt like it was constricting, as though it were becoming smaller as I ran along it. My breath came in labored gasps and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. In my suit jacket pocket my phone was alive with buzzes. Messages and calls. No doubt from news agencies and reporters. I resisted the urge to throw it away as I turned a corner and saw a police officer.

  “I need a back way out. Please!” I almost shouted.

  He was a young officer, with a dimple in his chin and clear blue eyes. He nodded and beckoned me to follow him, then took off at a jog along the corridor. Thirty seconds later I was running for my car in the rear parking lot reserved for lawyers and court officials. A shoe came off halfway to my car and I kicked the other off rather than go back for it. I reached my car, got in and locked the doors, gunning the engine.

  “Nic!” I yelled into the phone after hitting her number from the contacts list. “Are you still in there?”

  I could hear the dull roar of the crowd in the background.

  “No! They left me alone as soon as you were gone. Where are you?”

  “In my car. I have to get out of here!”

  “Ok. Just go, you’re the one they want. But Laura, what the hell are they talking about? They were asking me if I knew you when you were in LA? What the actual…?!”

  I was throwing the car around the parking lot, hurtling out of the bay and heading for the exit.

  “I can’t explain right now. Most of it was BS but…Halden leaked it. She threatened to do it. But someone gave her the dirt.”

  I hung up as I screeched away from the court house onto Montrose Avenue. I ran a red light, the blaring of horns following me as I barreled along. A left onto Circuit Road, past the President’s Mall and the Everwood Eagles football stadium. I made a right to avoid the rush hour traffic building up, cutting through a succession of side streets. As I emerged onto Oak Rise, a residential street that followed the river, I slammed on the brakes. Two kids, both immersed in their phones and not looking up, had just stepped into the road. My car skidded to a halt two feet from them.

  I screamed in reaction. It was an outlet of the frustration and anger that had been building since the ambush at the courthouse. Finally, the girls looked up. One of them smirked and raised her middle finger. My temper snapped. I opened the door, not even taking the keys from the ignition.

  “Hey! Are you both completely stupid?! You could get yourself killed!” I shouted.

  “Maybe you should slow down then.” One of them, a girl about Bryan’s age had long blond hair. They both wore a school uniform in dark green and white.

  “Hey, lady. You can’t park there. You’re blocking the god-damned street!” Came an angry male voice from behind.

  I looked. Another car had pulled up behind mine. A man in sunglasses and a white shirt with suspenders was driving. His window was down and his elbow rested on the door.

  “Come on, already!” He shouted, slamming his hand on the horn.

  The two girls walked on, laughing. I turned to the other driver, seething with rage. After all these years I was still being persecuted by that family. After the abuse, the threats and the violence. When I had finally made something of my life, I had found a vocation where I was making a difference in the world. Still, I was being tormented. The man in the car took on a new identity in my mind.

  Suddenly, he represented the DeLucas, DA Halden and the cops who had brazenly lied to frame an in
nocent man they decided must be guilty. On the sidewalk beside me was a pile of garbage which the residents had not been able to fit into their garbage can. I grabbed the first one. It was heavy and dripping, a rancid smell of rotten food coming off of it. I marched barefoot to the driver and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyebrows go up.

  He hit reverse but not before I swung the bag and let it go. It exploded across his windshield.

  “Are you crazy? What’s the matter with you?” He bawled, as he was forced to stop by another vehicle coming up.

  He got out of his car as though to clean away the trash I had deposited across the hood, then he recoiled. Instead, he advanced on me.

  “What the fuck is your problem?! Huh? You some kind of mental case?”

  I had picked up another bag of garbage but now I dropped it, clenched my fists and I advanced to meet him. I was aware that there were windows open all around us, people would be drawn to the commotion. Phones would be pointing at us. I would be recognized. But the rage was white hot and would not be denied. As the man realized I wasn’t going to back down, he stopped, suddenly unsure of himself.

  I got close enough to grab his tie. He was taller than me by a foot but I yanked him down to my level and pulled back my fist. It was my reflection in the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses that stopped me. My mouth was a rictus snarl, my face red and there was a Twinkie wrapper in my hair from the garbage bomb I had detonated. I looked crazed. I let the man go and backed away. So did he, any attempt at machismo forgotten.

  “I’m calling the cops.” He stammered as he stumbled back to his soiled vehicle.

  I walked away, the anger running out of me like water.

  Chapter 26

  Bryan’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I returned home. I checked the time on my phone. After six. No messages or calls. Not from Bryan anyway. The anger leaving me had left me feeling drained. I knew I had to get my focus back. Tomorrow would be another day of the trial and I couldn’t afford to let Halden’s mind games get to me. It would have been nice if Bryan had been home. Hey, maybe even making dinner for us? Yeah, right!

  I opened the front door and the first thing I saw was the blood. I froze. There was a dark smear running down the wall beside the stairs. A small pool was congealing on the floor at the foot of the stairs and a trail of spattered blood led into the kitchen. My heart raced. I instinctively took a step back through the still open door. But I had to know. Had to know if Bryan was at the end of that blood trail.

  “Bryan! Bryan, are you in there?” I yelled as I stepped back over the threshold and closed the door.

  The house was silent. The blood stains were obscene against the wallpaper and the paint that I had chosen to decorate our home. I noticed what looked like a distorted red fingerprint on a picture of Bryan. There was another on the bannister. Suddenly, I could see it everywhere.

  I moved quickly into the kitchen, taking care not to touch or step in any of it. I was still barefoot. In the kitchen, I couldn’t help letting a whimper of fear escape me. There was a thick clot of blood on the corner of the breakfast bar, and a smear running down the side to the floor. There it was everywhere, as though someone had sat down and smeared it everywhere they could reach.

  “What is going on here?”

  Hands shaking, I moved around the room, looking for the body that I was terrified I would find. The room was empty. Steeling myself, I ran upstairs, fumbling with my phone at the same time and calling Bryan. No answer. And a quick search upstairs yielded more blood in his room. But no body. Nobody at all.

  I had dialed 911 when I heard the car pull up in the driveway. I was standing at the top of the stairs. My finger hovering over the final 1. Keys rattled and the front door opened. Bryan stood there. He carried two plastic bags which he dumped on the floor. He unzipped his jacket and I saw that the front of his t-shirt was dark with dried blood.

  “Bryan!” I broke the silence with an involuntary shriek of his name.

  I tore down the stairs. He jumped, clearly startled. I ran into him, throwing my arms around him, crying furiously.

  “I thought you were dead! Are you OK? What’s happened?”

  Bryan just stood there. I felt his hands pat my back and then he hugged me. I pulled back after a moment and looked into his face. He looked exhausted.

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “It was a nightmare. Everything went wrong. I’m sorry, Mom. I think, I think the police might be wanting to speak to me at some point.”

  My heart stopped. I glanced down. The bags he had brought in were full of cleaning supplies. No, this can’t be happening. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.

  “I think you better come in and explain.” I said, finding calm from somewhere within.

  I guided him through into the living room. He almost collapsed onto the couch and I sat next to him, smoothing his hair back from his face. It was damp with sweat. I took his hand and took a deep breath.

  “Start talking,” I told him.

  “I’ve been seeing this girl, Naomi. I met her in college. Today, we came back here. She had some…” Bryan ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Don’t freak out. We wanted to try some coke. So we got some and were gonna try it here.”

  I didn’t know if the emotion I was feeling was anger or fear. “You got some coke.” I said flatly. “Keep. Talking.” It was definitely anger.

  Bryan took his hand from mine, standing up. “I knew you would freak out.”

  “Just keep talking. Tell me how my house ended up covered in blood!” I snapped, following him as he strode across the room.

  “She took it first and got a nose bleed, ok? It was fucking everywhere. On my bed, on her clothes, on my clothes. It wouldn’t stop. It was running out of her nose like water!” Bryan rounded on me. “I thought I should take her the hospital so I brought her downstairs. We went into the kitchen to get some ice and I dropped the ice. Then she slipped on it and cut her head open on the kitchen counter!”

  There was hysteria in his voice now. My son was tired and scared. My anger disappeared. I took him in my arms again and he didn’t resist.

  “It’s OK. Sounds like you did the right thing. It was just a shock to see so much blood. That’s all. Where is Naomi now?”

  “I took her to the emergency room and then called her parents. They came to get her. They found what was left of the coke in her pocket and blamed me. Naomi tried to tell them that we bought it together but I think they just wanted to put all the blame on me, not her.”

  He was shaking. I guided him back to the sofa, one arm tight around his shoulders.

  “It’s OK. Don’t panic. Is there any of the coke in the house?”

  “No, we took some out from the bag to try it. Naomi left the rest in the bag in her pocket.”

  “OK, so from a legal standpoint, it was found in her possession…” I started. Bryan opened his mouth to interrupt but I kept going. “But if you want to put your hands up for buying it with her…Possession of a small amount as a first offense isn’t going to result in jail time. It’s a misdemeanor only. And remember, your mother is one of the top defense attorneys in the state. I think we can beat this rap, kiddo.” I tried to keep my tone light, giving him another hug.

  I could see the fear in his eyes for all that he tried to make out he was such an independent man now. This had been a bad scare for him. A bad scare for both of us.

  “I wanted to get the blood cleaned up before you got home. I’ve just been to the store, wasn’t sure what was best for getting blood out of carpets.”

  “No idea, I’m afraid. I think we’re going to be scrubbing all night.” I laughed. It was forced but I wanted to lighten the situation, maybe even make him laugh.

  “Well, we won’t have much time for cooking. Order us up some pizza and I’ll make a start cleaning up your murder scene.”

  Bryan gave me a sharp look. “Sorry, Bryan. Just trying to ease things up a bit.” I confessed, taken aback by h
is reaction.

  He must still be in shock.

  “Did you see the state of my room?” He asked.

  “I took a look in there, yes.” I admitted. “Just to make sure you weren’t lying dead somewhere.” Again, I forced a laugh. Again, he didn’t reciprocate.

  “I’ll start in there,” was all he said.

  He got up from the sofa and wearily walked back into the hall. I watched him pick up one of the bags and begin to walk upstairs as though there were lead weights in his shoes.

  “I can do that.” I called after him. “You look all in.”

  “It’s OK. I’ve got it,” came the flat reply.

  I heard the door of his room open and then close behind him. I tried to dismiss the worry that he was hiding something.