What Goes Down Must Come Up
Page 3
The defendant was sworn in, and his attorney set out on a journey to make Ethan look like a choir boy. "How long did you stay at the party?"
"I was there for about three hours."
"And you had alcohol; is that correct?"
"Yes."
"And what exactly did you have?"
"I had three beers."
"Three beers? Are you sure, it wasn't two."
The prosecutor, Assistant District Attorney Maxwell Mallory, darted out of his chair. "Objection Your Honor. Mr. Falcone is leading the witness."
"Sustained," the judge said as if he was bored and very much exhausted.
"I withdraw the question, Your Honor."
The minor setback didn't seem to make one bit of difference to Mr. Falcone. "Do you recall when you drank those beers?
Ethan nearly answered the question before his attorney finished asking it. "A friend gave me a beer as soon as I walked in. It took me a couple of minutes to finish it. I was thirsty."
"I guess you were," Mr. Falcone said with a light chuckle which caused his client to smile.
Brian watched in disgust. How could the two of them smile about this? There was nothing remotely amusing about that night. Brian noticed that Ethan's father, with his thick, silver hair, had a smug look on his face, almost as if his precious time was being wasted. He was, in fact, a very wealthy and powerful man, the CEO of a local energy company.
"While you were at the party, did you talk to anyone?" Mr. Falcone asked.
"I spoke to two of my friends."
"And what were their names?"
"Nick and Pete."
"And how long have you known Nick and Pete."
"I met them in kindergarten." Ethan replied.
"I see. Did you talk to them before you left the party?"
"Yeah."
"And did they take your car keys away from you?"
"Nah."
The judge cleared his throat and interrupted Ethan. "Mr. Woods, in my court I would like you to answer with a yes or no."
Ethan sat up straighter in his seat. "I'm sorry, Your Honor."
"Please proceed, counselor," the Judge said.
The defense attorney paused and walked over to jury box. He made eye contact with the foreman, a heavyset black man dressed in a plaid shirt and tie.
"Well, did either one of your friends suggest that you not drive that night?"
"No, sir."
Mr. Falcone placed his hand on the banister in front of the foreman and made an expression that would rival the look of disbelief a child would have when he just figured out the Tooth Fairy didn't exist. "Wait a minute. Let me make sure I have this right. Nick and Pete, who you've known since kindergarten, let you leave the party and didn't call you a cab?" he asked as he strolled over to the witness stand.
"No," Ethan responded as he shook his head.
"And they didn't take your keys?"
"No."
"Then it would be fair to say that they didn't think you were drunk?"
"I guess not."
"Objection, Your Honor. That's pure speculation. The defense has no way of knowing exactly what Nick or Pete were thinking at that moment when Mr. Woods was leaving the party," Mr. Mallory said.
"Sustained. Mr. Falcone, if you have a direct question to ask your client, please do so. Otherwise, let's move on."
"I'm sorry, Your Honor. No further questions," he said with a sly smile.
Chapter 9
Officer Thomas Lister played with a loose button on the cuff of his discount sport blazer as Mr. Mallory paced for a few moments to gather his thoughts. He inhaled deeply and opened his mouth, but then he stopped himself and started pacing again. This sequence only went on for a minute, but it was painstaking for Brian, because he knew that Tommy's testimony was the crux of the prosecution's case. Tommy gave Brian a quick, encouraging smile from the witness stand. Brian tried his best to return a smile, but it was difficult because of his dismal state of mind.
"Officer Lister, you were the first to arrive on the scene of the accident on December 21, 2009. Is that correct?"
"That is correct."
"And did you have an interaction with the defendant?"
"I did," Tommy said.
"Could you describe in detail your conversation with Mr. Woods, and also tell the jury what his mental and physical conditions were like on that night?"
"When I arrived on the scene, I saw Patty's-I mean Mrs. Walton's car scattered across the road. At the time, I didn't know it was hers; it was too mangled to tell the make or model, but I found the license plate on the side of the highway by a busted guardrail?"
"That's terrible," Mr. Mallory said. He paused for a few moments while he studied the jury. "And what was the condition of Mr. Woods's vehicle?"
"There was some front end damage, but it was nothing compared to Mrs. Walton's vehicle."
"And how about Mr. Woods himself?"
"He was sitting on the ground on the right shoulder maybe about 20 feet away from the accident. He had a few scratches, but overall, he was in pretty good shape, considering. I approached him and asked him if he could stand, and he did. He was crying.
"Did he say anything to you?"
"Yes, he said 'My father is going to kill me?I can't believe I wrecked his car,' with a very slurred speech."
"Did he happen to mention anything about the vehicle he hit?" Mr. Mallory asked.
"No, he didn't."
"And did you perform any field sobriety tests at the scene?"
"I couldn't conduct any balance tests because his knee was pretty banged up, but I did check his pupils for dilation."
"And what were your findings?"
"His pupils were consistent with intoxication. I also performed a breathalyzer test, and he failed."
"Can you elaborate on what failing means for those in the jury that are not familiar with how a breathalyzer test works?"
"Sure." Tommy gathered his thoughts for a brief moment and proceeded to explain. "The breathalyzer measures your blood to alcohol ratio by analyzing a sample of your breath. The legal limit in this state is .08, and Mr. Woods blew a .11."
"So he was over the legal limit?" Mr. Mallory asked.
"Without a question."
"And, in your opinion, is a .11 a little tipsy or all out drunk?"
"I would say all out drunk, especially for someone of his weight. He's not a heavy man."
The prosecutor paced back and forth for a few moments and made eye-contact with Brian. In that short moment, Brian was filled with hope. The prosecutor had an air of confidence that was comforting. Brian noticed a smile on his daughter's face. She can feel it too.
"And Officer Lister, how many years have you been on the force? " the prosecutor asked.
"Fifteen years."
"And in the fifteen years, how many drunk drivers have you encountered, if you had to take a guess?"
"Hundreds."
"Thank you, Officer Lister. No further questions, Your Honor."
Chapter 10
Brian waited in the lobby outside of the courtroom for about an hour after the jury went to deliberate on their verdict. His daughter had left after the first twenty minutes to go to the cafeteria, and most of the other spectators had followed her lead. There were only a few others that remained, and most of them appeared to be with the press.
The defendant and his father were sitting some distance away, and Brian watched as Ethan turned to whisper something to his father, who frowned and mouthed what looked like, "Everything will be fine. This is nothing." Brian was disgusted by the father's haughtiness, so he decided to remove himself from the lobby. Michael Woods reminded Brian of the arrogant people he worked for, and more importantly, he made Brian feel guilty. Maybe if he had spent less time trying to please his superiors, the accident would have never happened. Maybe if he had gone to pick up his son and had taken a different route, or been on the same route a little sooner than his wife, then the family would still be in
tact. Of course none of that really mattered because the reality was a very harsh one that would remain unchanged.
The jury took two hours to come to a verdict. Judge Harold Edwards sat in front of the room, analyzing some documents while television cameras recorded the tense moments, and then he asked everyone to stand. The jury of twelve, seven men and five women, walked into the room. "Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Edwards asked.
The foreman responded, "Yes, we have, Your Honor. We the jury, find the defendant, Ethan Woods, guilty on all charges."
Brian felt all tension in his muscles drop to the floor. Charlene was so overwhelmed with emotion that she fell to her seat and sobbed. The court flooded with the opposing sounds of cheers and boos.
"I told you we would get him," Mr. Mallory said as Brian drew him in for a hug.
Chapter 11
Brian had hoped to never enter the courthouse for as long as he lived, but he was happy that it was nearly over. "I don't understand why this took so long," he said.
"It could be worse. Imagine having to wait six more months for the sentencing. I'll take a week over that," Mr. Mallory said.
Judge Edwards removed his glasses and sat up straight in his chair. He paused for a good minute, and said "For your crimes of Manslaughter and Driving under the Influence, you are sentenced to five years and up for parole in three."
Brian couldn't believe what he was hearing. His chest heaved up and down with every angry breath. He saw Ethan cry in his father's arms. The sight of the two of them made him shiver. Mike Woods still has his son, and he'll get to see him again in five years or less! "No! That's not fair, Your Honor. He killed my family!" Brian yelled.
"Mr. Walton, please do not yell out in my courtroom. This is a court of law, not a sporting event."
"This isn't a courtroom. It's a joke!" Brian yelled as he slammed both of his fists on top of the pew partition.
The judge crashed his gavel and screamed, "That's it! I want you out of my courtroom!"
"Where's the justice for my wife and son? This isn't justice."
Mr. Mallory grabbed Brian's arm and pulled him away from the table. He motioned toward the exit. "Mr. Walton, you have to stop this."
Charlene stood on the other side of Brian, rested her hand on his shoulder, and tried consoling him. "It's ok Dad; there's justice. At least he will serve some time and live with the guilt forever."
"That's not good enough. I want him to live the rest of his days alone, rotting in a cell. I don't want him to breathe the air we breathe. He doesn't deserve to see the sun. He's garbage."
About the Author
I am a videographer/writer from Albany, NY who loves to read and write fiction. Some of my favorite authors are James Patterson, Michael Connelly, Stuart Woods, David Baldacci, and Paulo Coelho. I am very mindful of my health, so I am no stranger to the gym, and I always find myself reading internet and magazine articles and books about health. Feel free to check out my website if you want to find out more information about my books or services that I provide.
www.mediahammock.com