by Claire Adams
I looked up at him. “So you have spoken to her.”
Manolo only smiled.
“She didn’t believe me,” I said softly. “I thought she knew me better than anyone else in the world… Turns out it took one measly arrest to change her mind and break her faith in me.”
“There is overwhelming evidence that points to you in all this,” Manolo reminded me.
“I don’t care,” I said heatedly. “She knew me. She should have known what I was capable of.”
“Sometimes love can blind…”
I frowned. “I just told you, she believed me when I was accused of—”
“What I mean is that she probably thought she had been blind because she loved you,” he explained. “She probably thought she had missed the signs because she cared about you so much.”
“Is that her excuse, or yours?”
Manolo smiled. “You’ve been in there barely five days, Phil,” he said. “You don’t get to be this bitter.”
“Is it strange that I’m more worried about my relationship than about my job?” I asked.
Until I’d said it out loud to Manolo just then, I hadn’t actually admitted as much to myself. I felt a small amount of release, except that it was hollow because I was so hurt and angry with Megan for actually believing that I was guilty, especially when it was her own brother who had put me in this position.
“It’s not strange,” Manolo said kindly. “You love her.”
“Fat lot of good that did me.”
“Hey, you haven’t been found guilty yet—remember that,” he said sternly.
After Manolo left, I had an hour to myself that felt more like five and then a cop came to get me from my cell. He didn’t tell me what it was about, and I didn’t ask. He led me to a room where Victor sat, waiting for me.
“I have good news,” he said, as I walked in.
I held my breath and sat down, hoping that it was really good news and not just spin that he was trying to dress up for my benefit.
“Okay?” I said cautiously.
“They caught the guy who framed you,” Victor said immediately.
“No!” I said, my voice coming out in one heady breath.
“Yes.”
“Fuck!” I nearly yelled. “You really did?”
“We followed the leads you gave us, as well as the leads that Megan gave us—”
“Megan?” I said, frowning at him.
“She visited Officer Manolo two days ago,” Victor told me. “And, she told him about her brother.”
“Her brother?” I said, in confusion. “I thought she believed Brent was innocent and I wasn’t?”
“As to what she believed, I can’t say,” he said. “I only had a short conversation with her. But she discovered a few bags of drugs in her brother’s closet, and she connected the dots I suppose.”
“She came to the station?”
“Yes, and she also gave us a few leads as to where we might find her brother.”
“So it was Brent who set me up,” I said.
“We don’t know yet.”
“What?” I said, in disbelief. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“We don’t know that Brent was the mastermind in this operation or if he was merely the pawn,” Victor told me. “The police are still trying to figure that part out. He might be part of a bigger drug conspiracy. The police are keeping quiet about a few things. I think they want to catch everyone involved with this.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Does that mean—”
“You can’t be released just yet,” Victor said, in a measured voice. “There will be a hearing and after the hearing, you will be absolved of all charges and you will be free to go.”
“When will the hearing be?” I asked.
“Possibly two days,” he replied. “They just want to cover all their bases and be sure that you’re completely innocent first.”
“You mean there are a few people who think I might have been in on this drug thing?”
“A few, yes,” he admitted. “But only a very few. I’ve never seen such an overwhelming majority of people come and speak for someone in my life, particularly someone they don’t really know”
“What can I say?” I said. “I inspire trust.”
But even as I said it, I couldn’t help thinking that the one person who I thought had known me best hadn’t believed me when I said I was innocent.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Megan
Even while I was in the moment, everything just felt like hazy memories. I couldn’t remember why I picked out the black pantsuit that I had stashed away in my suitcase. I had worn it only once or twice before, but my jobs had never really entailed any sort of formal office attire. I wasn’t sure a courtroom required a suit, but I decided to be safe rather than sorry.
More than anything else, I was terrified of seeing Phil. He was innocent; I now knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Not because anyone had confirmed as much to me, but because I had finally opened my eyes and started thinking for myself. Once I had cast of my own sense of self-doubt, once I had brushed off my brother’s biased opinions and once I had started to trust my own instincts, it was easy to see that Phil had been set up and I had refused to stand by him during his darkest hour.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I had dark circles under my eyes because I hadn’t been able to sleep since Phil had been arrested. My skin was deadly pale, and my expression was melancholy at best. I decided to pinch my cheeks to bring a little color to my complexion, and when that didn’t work I applied a touch of blush so that I didn’t look quite so washed out.
Once I was ready, I took a cab to the courthouse and went through security first before heading to the courtroom where Phil’s case was going to be tried. I wasn’t sure I should be referring to it as Phil’s case anymore. Using Brent’s name would have been more appropriate now. I felt a little shiver of sadness as I realized that my brother had been the mastermind behind setting up the love of my life.
I hadn’t spoken to our parents yet. They had no idea that Brent was being tried for drug dealing. They had no idea he was even into drugs that heavily. I had thought about calling them, but I couldn’t stomach the thought. I knew they would find a way to blame me, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that guilt… I had enough of my own guilt to worry about.
I had received a subpoena yesterday, and I knew I would be called onto the stand to testify. I had barely even thought about it because every time I did, my mind kept throwing up roadblocks. Was I really doing this? Was I going to give evidence that would send my brother straight to jail? Maybe that was the real reason I hadn’t told my parents. They would be furious when they found out, whether or not my evidence was the truth.
We had to wait about thirty-five minutes and then the court was called to order as the bailiff announced in the judge. Judge Emerson Halstead was an impressive-looking man in his late fifties. He still had a full head of hair that was a downy snow-white. He had twinkly blue eyes and an expression that brooked no nonsense. I tensed as we were allowed to sit down and held my breath, waiting for the proceedings to start.
First, Phil was called onto the stand. The defense was trying to build the case that Brent was a pawn in Phil’s drug dealings. I knew that it was all just smoke and mirrors, though. Officer Manolo had told me as much. They had enough evidence to support the fact that it was Brent dealing this whole time and he had tried to set Phil up when his deals had started going sour. Brent’s lawyer was a run of the mill defense attorney that had been assigned to him through the court system, and as I looked towards the balding, middle-aged man, I could tell from his expression that he knew he had already lost.
Next to him sat my brother. Brent was dressed well, but he looked angry—and I realized that he looked guilty, as well. I was grateful that he didn’t glance in my direction. It was so strange seeing him like that, and even though I felt a certain amount of pity for him, my heart had been hardened by how he had tre
ated Phil and how he had turned me against him.
When Phil was called onto the stand, I glanced at him cautiously. He was dressed in trousers and a button-down white shirt, and he looked every bit the respectable, law-abiding citizen that he was. He placed his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Then he sat down and waited to be grilled.
“Your brother is in jail?” the defense attorney asked, walking up to him. “Am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“For drug dealing,” Phil replied, without missing a beat.
“I see it runs in the family—”
“Objection!” Phil’s lawyer said, jumping to his feet.
“Sustained,” the judge said, giving the defense attorney a stern look.
“Did you ever see your brother dealing drugs?” the defense attorney asked.
“I had no idea he was still dealing,” Phil replied.
“Still?”
“He was involved with drugs when we were teenagers,” Phil replied. “But I thought he had moved on from that life. I was certain of it. I knew he smoked up a little himself and because of that I kept my distance from him…because that was not the life I wanted for myself. I had no idea he was dealing, though.”
“How did you meet Brent?”
“We met through a mutual friend,” Phil replied. “Harvey Samson.”
“Harvey Samson has been taken into custody for drug possession. Are you aware of that?”
“I just became aware of that.”
“You seem to have a lot of contact with drug dealers.”
“Objection,” Phil’s lawyer rose again. “I didn’t hear a question.”
“I’ll rephrase,” Brent’s lawyer said quickly. “Do you have contact with many drug dealers?”
“Of course not,” Phil replied. “Harvey is an old friend, that’s all. I happened to meet Brent at his house and we became friends…obviously we were never very good friends though.”
The questions continued for another five minutes, but I could tell that Brent’s lawyer was pulling at straws. Then he changed his approach, and I felt my body grow cold.
“You have a girlfriend; is that correct?”
“At the time of my arrest, I had a girlfriend, yes.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes at his words. He had effectively broken up with me in front of a courtroom full of people in one sentence. I knew I deserved it, but it still stung.
“I see.” Brent’s lawyer nodded. “And her name is?”
“Megan Jacobs.”
“The same last name as my client?”
“They’re siblings.”
“I see…and she’s currently not your girlfriend?”
“I… Uh…”
“Mr. Roberts?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Objection,” Phil’s lawyer said. “Relevance?”
“I’m getting to it, Your Honor,” Brent’s lawyer said, as I sat there with my heart beating faster than ever.
“I’ll allow it,” the judge said.
“Mr. Roberts?” Brent’s lawyer pressed.
“She didn’t believe I was innocent.”
“I see.” Brent’s lawyer nodded. “I think that means something, don’t you?”
“I think it means that I overestimated her belief and her love for me,” Phil replied.
I could feel tears pooling in the corner of my eyes, but I forced them back and willed myself to be strong. I still hadn’t been called to the stand and when I did, I didn’t want to be a weeping incoherent mess.
“Or it could possibly mean that she always suspected you were capable of something like this?”
“Object—”
“Withdrawn,” Brent’s lawyer said quickly, before Phil’s lawyer could even finish the word. But it was enough to have planted a small seed of doubt in everyone’s mind, and he had been banking on that. The argument he built, however, crumbled in five seconds when Phil’s lawyer took the stand. There was evidence that proved Brent had been involved with several drug deals before finally trying to become a dealer in his own standing a few months back.
Then character witnesses were brought up to the stand. There were seven for Phil and none for Brent. I realized that I would be serving as a character witness for both and the thought made my palms sweat. Of the seven character witnesses called upon to speak for Phil, four were from his station and that included his Sergeant and three were people he had saved on emergency rescue operations and had moderate contact with afterwards.
While Brent’s attorney kept trying to discredit each one, he couldn’t really succeed with Phil’s colleagues, especially Sergeant Green, who was both composed and forceful on the stand. He immediately impressed me, and I had only just seen him.
Finally, I heard them call for my name and with shaky legs and a full heart I walked up to the stand, took my oath and sat down. I could see both Brent and Phil clear as day. They were sitting right in front of me, on opposite ends of the courtroom and I could their eyes watching me carefully. Brent still looked angry and Phil just looked…sad? I wasn’t quite sure anymore.
“What is your name?” Phil’s lawyer asked me.
“Megan Jacobs,” I replied.
“Can you explain your relationship to my client, please?”
“I am… I was his girlfriend,” I stammered. “And, I am also Brent’s sister.”
“You are Brent Jacob’s sister?” he asked, pointing to Brent.
“Yes.”
“And, you live with your brother currently?”
“I do.” I nodded.
“You gave the police important evidence pertaining to this case, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Which was what?”
“I found drugs in his closet,” I said.
“What led you to suspect that your brother was involved in drugs?”
“He was erratic, unpredictable, and he spoke about starting a business of his own, though he never gave me details about any of it. He was always at home, strange men would stop by the apartment and ask for him, and his closet door was always locked.”
“Did you ever suspect that Phil was doing drugs?”
“No.”
“And yet you believed he was guilty when he was arrested?”
Suddenly, the courtroom melted away, and all I could see was Phil. I tuned everyone else out and I decided to focus on him. So I looked towards him as I spoke.
“I didn’t listen to my instincts and I didn’t trust what I knew about Phil. He is a good man. He’s turned his life around and he would never jeopardize that by doing or dealing drugs. I chose to believe my brother over Phil because I thought blood was thicker than water. But I realize now that Brent may be my brother, but Phil is my true family.”
The whole time I looked at him and spoke, Phil never met my eye. I looked for a change in his expression but there was none. I realized how deeply I had hurt him, and I was also starting to realize that there would be no going back on this. He might never forgive me, and I would just have to live with that.
“So, it was a matter of choosing between your boyfriend and your brother.”
“I suppose,” I said softly. “And, I chose wrong.”
I sat there silently, while Phil’s lawyer sat down, and Brent’s lawyer approached me. “How long have you known Phil Roberts for?”
“For seven months,” I replied.
“And did you spent a lot of time together?”
“As much time as we could… We spoke almost every day on the phone.”
“And how often did you meet?”
“Sometimes as much as three times a week, but when he was busy, it would be only once a week.”
“So there was a lot of time you spent apart?”
I hesitated a moment. “Yes.”
“So he might have been dealing drugs—you can’t know for sure, can you?”
“I… I know Phil.”
“How can you say that when you just admitted to having believed he was guilty?”
“I made a mistake.”
“What if you’re making a mistake now?”
“I’m not.”
“You seem to be a very inconsistent young woman, Ms. Jacobs.”
“Objection!” Phil’s lawyer cried.
“Sustained,” the judge said firmly.
“No further questions, Your Honor,” Brent’s lawyer said as he walked away.
I realized he never needed me to answer at all. He just needed to sow the seeds of doubt, and he had done a brilliant job of doing just that.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Phil
Two days after the trial, and was still reliving moments from it. I had a feeling that I would be reliving moments from it even years from now. I remembered the white shirt Victor had brought me. The collar was stiff and uncomfortable, and the trousers itched a little, although I had a feeling that had more to do with my nerves than the fabric.
Despite the overwhelming amount of evidence piling up against Brent, I still had to undergo a trial so that I could be officially cleared of all charges and Victor prepared me for the fact that Brent and his lawyer would go into this with all guns blazing. I remembered how the courtroom smelled as I had walked into it. There was the musky scent of sawdust, sweat, and salt in the air.
The one memory that burned the brightest was the sight of Megan walking into the courtroom. She hadn’t seen me at first. Her face was turned down; she looked pale and shaken, as though she hadn’t slept for days. And yet, despite that, she still looked beautiful. Her hazel eyes stood out because they looked so big now against her ashen complexion. I felt a whir of concern scatter through me, and I wondered if she was okay—if she was eating, if she was sleeping, if she needed someone to talk to? And then I reminded myself that I was the victim in all this, not her.
When she took the stand, I could barely look at her. Only in the moments when her gaze was turned away from me did I risk glancing in her direction. She wrung her hands together continuously, and I could tell that she was anxious, but I wasn’t sure why she looked so sad.