A Courtroom Massacre

by Mark Porto

  Judge Lexington shows a halcyon demeanor attempting to arbitrate the lawyers’ dispute. “Gentlemen,” he states pounding the gavel and fiddling with his fingers. He tells the defense attorney he didn’t think Mr. Muir was deliberately trying to disrupt his open statement and ordered him to use another phrase.

  “Your Honor, with all due respect, what would satisfy you and the prosecutor?”

  The judge plays with his gavel, sits back in his upholstered chair folding his hands. He suddenly moves forward strongly suggesting he refer to them as “youths.”

  Menden turns to the jury. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen; these youths could’ve easily killed Mr. Bellow and his family. I will show that this is a case of self-defense.” He returns to his seat, his hair is frazzled with sweat pouring down his face. He quickly wipes off the perspiration when it was pointed out by an assistant.

  The judge sits straight. “Mr. Prosecutor, call your first witness.” His head oscillates in a regal manner.

  The first prosecution witnesses are the police officers at the scene. After softball questions from Muir, Menden asks each one of them since it had been initially declares a case of self-defense why was Mr. Bellow charged with a crime.

  The officer, a young patrolman named Lucas Photonic said after they interviewed the witnesses, they did a follow up and a “few” witnesses had later recollections of the events surrounding that day. “One woman came in and said the defendant began open firing without saying a word.”

  Menden wonders what she said at the scene, the officer tilts his head away from the defense attorney only to say she had a different recollection. “No doubt, someone urged her to change her mind.” When Muir objects, Menden withdrew it.

  The next witness is a thin, gaunt, but tall man, about six feet five inches. His slim build gives the perception that his silvery and blonde hair extends down the back of his neck, but it was just the way he combed his hair. Emery Proctor Schuyler was a former school psychologist for the Black Meadows School District for nearly thirty years.

  The prosecution brought an affidavit from Mr. Schuyler which stated Mr. Bellow during his school years was labeled incorrigible and mentally disturbed.

  Schuyler explains Mr. Bellow would get into fights with his classmates and teachers. “He was especially bad when he was in the Middle School; I’d get a report a week from one teacher about his behavior.”

  Muir folds his arms. “How was he punished?”

  Schuyler explains he would usually get detention, but there were about three occasions where he was suspended for five days. However, the first two times, either the parents or their city councilman Mr. McKinley would convince the principal to dismiss the complaint. Another occasion, the family retained an attorney, when the case went to a hearing; Mr. Bellow managed to maneuver himself out of the situation.

  Muir’s hands grip the podium. “Thank you, Mr. Schuyler.”

  Menden takes the podium soon after asking. “Isn’t it true whenever Mr. Bellow was in a fight, he, first reported it to the school personnel?”

  Schuyler looks stunned, thinks about it, but remarks he didn’t remember.

  Menden said since he vividly remembered the times Mr. Bellow was suspended, how he didn’t remember about any reports to the authorities. “You seem to have a lot to say about my client, yet, when all the facts come to light, you act as if you don’t know anything.”

  When Muir immediately stands up to object, Menden withdrew the statement.

  “The fact is Mr. Schuyler, Mr. Bellow reported the incidents to authorities and you know why you don’t remember?” Mr. Schuyler shrugs his shoulders. “It is because you urged the school administrators to rip up his reports.” When Schuyler said he would never do that.

  Menden shows him a note that was left in his school records telling the principal to simply ignore Mr. Bellow claims of being attacked, because he felt he was being paranoid.

  Schuyler reviews the note, his eyes turn away from the defense attorney, pretending not to remember, then gave it back.

  Menden stands to the side of the podium. “Mr. Schuyler, isn’t it true you were fired shortly before you were hired from the Cotter School District in New Jersey? And isn’t also true your license was suspended in Stamford, Connecticut for unprofessional behavior and intoxication on the job?”

  Schuyler fidgets, claiming he didn’t remember. He answers with a wry smile. “That was many years ago.”

  “Since you were fired from Black Meadows, where do you now work?”

  The psychologist slumps down. He said he had a private practice in Patterson, New Jersey. “A knew a member of the school board there and he recommended me for the firm.”

  “How interesting, you remember someone from that time, but you don’t remember why you were fired. Let me ask you, do you still drink today?”

  Muir objects angrily stating such questioning was insolent and defamatory, the judge, however, said he’d allow it. The magistrate orders the witness to answer.

  Schuyler says he drank once in a while. “I never thought it was a problem.”

  Menden wonders if he ever got any help for his problem, Schuyler said he never did, despite his several divorces. “Didn’t you realize you held an important position in the community? Aren’t you cognizant of your responsibilities?”

  Muir slams his hand on the table objecting to the question. The judge, warns Menden that he was on “thin ice” if he continues with this line of questioning.

  Menden said he didn’t have any further questions.

  The next witness was Mrs. Alvin, she walks to the stand, dressed with a new outfit and wearing makeup. She had on her dentures, which became noticeable when she spoke. Muir asked her about the day those gang members were killed. She speaks in a soft voice. “Well, I remember seeing Lee Jackson facing the defendant. Mr. Jackson attempts to surrender, but the defendant killed him away saying something about one less [expletive] in the world.”

  Menden asked her where she was when this “allegedly” occurred; she was about forty feet away from the store, when one of the gang members sailed through the store window.

  “Mrs. Alvin, isn’t true you have a sight problem?” When she said yes, he quickly cut her off and inquired about her problems with alcohol, drugs and hallucinations.

  Despite the prosecution’s objections, the judge allowed it and she admitted it. However, she told the defense attorney. “On that day, I was clean of any substances, I swear!” Mrs. Alvin holds up her hand up in the air.

  “Mrs. Alvin, isn’t it true that when the shots were fired, you leaped to the ground?” When she hesitates to answer, Menden reiterates the question, she, however, said she didn’t remember. “Let me see, you ‘supposedly’ remember seeing Lee Jackson get shot and couldn’t remember diving to the ground when the shots were fired? Which is it, did you dive to the ground or see what you claimed to see?”

  As the prosecutor objects, Menden withdrew it. The next witness is Captain Lester, the captain’s obese belly flaps over his belt. Odell Muir questions him, “Did Mr. Bellow make any effort to call the police on Saturday, September 17?”

  The captain made an emphatic, “no.”

  Johnny quickly turns to his attorney telling him before he shot at the gang members he remembered calling him. Mr. Menden wrote it down on a legal pad.

  Mr. Menden asked Captain Lester who was on duty taking calls on the day in question. When he remarked Sgt. Martinelli was taking calls and complaints. The defense attorney pulled out a report stating there was a call from Bellow’s Grocery shortly after noon, “Captain Lester, how you can explain this discrepancy?”

  The Captain fidgets while answering the lawyer’s question. “It could’ve been a wrong number.”

  Menden winces. “Come on, captain.”

  “Look, there was a call, but when we couldn’t get anyone to answer, we relied on other calls and that’s how we found out about the shooting?”

  Menden told him this reported call was r
ecorded the call and there was a response, before he discontinued the questioning fearing another objection by the prosecution.

  When the prosecution rested, Mr. Menden called Johnny’s former Naval Reserve Commander, Capt. Robert Merrill. The defense attorney asked him about First Petty Officer Johnny Bellow’s behavior while in the service.

  The Captain said there hadn’t been any problems with him.

  Mr. Muir didn’t have any questions.

  After testimony from a store clerk and a bystander, the trial lasted a few more days. The closing arguments were heard on April 12th. Mr. Muir stands in hegemony addressing the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve heard from the police and the psychologist. Mr. Bellow not only has a problem with authority, he has a habit of taking matters into his own hands. He refused to cooperate with police and became hostile during questioning.

  “Your honor, I object! Mr. Bellow doesn’t have any obligation to speak with the police without an attorney present!” Mr. Menden told Mr. Muir it would behoove him to realize about his client’s Miranda rights.

  Muir looks to the judge. “Your honor, with all due respect to the court, I would like to remind everyone what Mr. Bellow was told by the police following the incident, all they were doing was to offer up information.”

  “So noted, I’ll allow it.”

  Muir continues to face the jury with an upright jaw while extending his hand. “The police of Black Meadows were trying to find the truth. Mr. Bellow, on the other hand, sought fit to obstruct it! And I’ll tell you why, it is because he had something to hide. You must consider Mrs. Alvin’s and Mr. Schuyler’s testimony. No, Mr. Bellow is a threat to society and only a verdict of guilty would be acceptable.” He yields the floor to the defense attorney.

  Mr. Menden steps forward. “Mr. Muir would have you believe the police were trying to find the truth. However, what the prosecutor neglected to tell you is the case was originally declared self-defense. Today, you’ve got to think about the dubious testimony from Mrs. Alvin,

  Captain Lester and Mr. Schuyler basically evasive as witnesses, face it, there’s not much logic to their testimonies. You have to consider the facts, fact is, and Mr. Bellow called the police. Secondly, why would the district attorney prosecute this case? I believe my client defended himself, his family and others against unwarranted aggression. Therefore, the only appropriate verdict is not guilty.”

  The judge gives the jury the option of convicting Mr. Bellow of second-degree murder, second-degree manslaughter or acquittal. They stand and are escorted to the segregated jury room by a burly county sheriff’s deputy.

  Johnny, his family and attorney wait in an anteroom on the other side of the courtroom. Sal held his wife’s hand throughout the time. Menden, while sitting down, assures them he did the best he could, but would appeal any convictions.

  Anita is seated to Johnny’s right wondering why he’s been so quiet.

  He felt a twinge in his buttocks as a cold surge steers up his spine. Johnny breathes deeply while his heart palpitates, but barely hears his mother. After a couple of more minutes, he told her there wasn’t much left to say. Johnny sat with his elbows on the table while his hands held up his cheeks.

  When she wonders why he didn’t look his mother in the eye, he rubs his chin and stared into space.

  During that time, the jury had not come to a decision, Mr. Menden tells the family shortly after five in the afternoon. “This is a good sign, the longer they take, it will be better for Johnny.”

  Anita fidgets while her eyes dilate; she tugs the attorney’s arm asking him if that was always the case. His head lowers shaking back and forth. Her hands shake as she sighed. “Why did you say it was a good sign?”

  “It could be the jury is taking a lot more into consideration, they’re hard to predict, so it’s best to think about something else.”

  The bailiff tells everyone the court had adjourned for the day. Since the jurors were not sequestered, they left for their homes and were careful not to discuss it for fear of being cited for contempt of court.

  The next afternoon, the jury reaches a verdict about three-thirty. It is submitted to the judge. After Judge Lexington reads it, he requests Mr. Bellow to rise and face the jury. He remarks. “Madam Foreman, what is your verdict?”

  The jury forewoman was in her fifties with gray hair neatly placed in a bun with horn rimmed glasses, she put them on while reading it. “We, the jury, on the five counts of second-degree murder, we find the defendant: Not Guilty.

  There is a temporary sigh of joy at the defense table, but Johnny’s inside felt ill at ease as the rest of the verdict was being read.

  The jury forewoman continues. “On the counts of third-degree weapons possession: Not Guilty. On the count of second-degree manslaughter: Guilty!”

  Suddenly, everyone at the defense table; including Johnny’s parents frown with anguish in their hearts, they hold their heads down as Anita was crying.

  The forewoman concludes, “On the count of fourth-degree weapons possession, we find the defendant guilty as charged.”

  The judge leans forward while his eyes dart to Johnny asking if he had anything to say, before pronouncing sentence.

  He turns to address the jury. “I don’t understand you people! Don’t you realize how you’re being manipulated? I hope you all are satisfied in destroying my life as well as my parents. The only reason why the case got this far was because the gang leader was related to Senator Croydon!”

  The judge’s eyes bug out. “Mr. Bellow, it’s obvious you’ve got a lot of hostility in you. It with my regret that I sentence you to five to fifteen years in state prison, court is adjourned!” The judge got off his bench, marching in step back to his chambers.

  Afterward, a sheriff’s deputy walking in a swagger, orders Johnny to remove his shoelaces, necktie and belt. Johnny initially refuses until Mr. Menden told him to cooperate; he then looked the emotionless officer in the eye while removing the said items.

  Before he was taken away, Johnny embraces his parents telling them not to cry or worry about him, knowing full well it would be impossible. He promises he would take care of himself, then looking at his father’s sad eyes, whispers. “Pa, take care of Ma, appeal this damn verdict!”

  Sal held back tears bidding his son goodbye; he promises he’d take care of his mother.

  Anita cries often and aloud while Sal comforts her as they watched their son locked in handcuffs being carted away like cattle by the county police.

  Mr. Menden is able to walk with Johnny as far as the end of the hallway on the second floor of the courthouse. With his valise in hand, he said not to worry and that they have enough to appeal the case. He cracks a smile. “You’ll be out of prison before you know it.”

  A little later, Sal and Anita confers with the defense attorney, he tells them at this point, he could only try his best. She pleads with burning stings in her eyes. “My son doesn’t deserve to go to prison!” Her face fell, as she covered it with a tissue.

  This was Johnny’s last glance of his parents for a while.

  A swarm of deputies in tan uniforms escort Johnny and other shackled prisoners through the courtroom corridors. He is escorted to the backdoor to be placed on a dark brown colored bus that was chaperoned by two armed sheriff’s deputies.

  Upon arriving at the Tappan County Jail, Johnny and the other prisoners are subjected to a strip search, which he ferociously resists. However, the deputies manage to get the search done after getting a few more deputies to hold his arms. He is booked, given a jail uniform and put in a cell. He would have to stay until morning, because the bus to the state penitentiary had to have a break line repaired. He remains without showing any emotion as the jeers of the other inmates coursed through his psyche.

  While he was in the cell, Johnny lies on his back on the top bunk amid the smells of old cigarette smoke from butts and urine that’s been there for a while, as well as the other dwellers in a combination of dirt that gave him a h
eadache. For the most part, he spent the rest of his time staring at the ceiling.

  The array of emotions that vex Johnny’s mind became more intense as he continually stares at the bars, when it dawned on him that was going to be his life for a while. His main concern was his parents in how they were handling the situation, odds were not too well.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sheffield Prison is located about forty miles south of Albany. All one could see were the large coils of barbed wire, which shower across the top of the stone walls, a menacing looking, and betty-eyed guard stands sentinel at the observation tower carrying a loaded rifle, along with the regularly issued sidearm.

  The dark skies descend on the north side of the prison as the rain starts falling heavily. When the bus stops at the gate, the driver checks in with the guard about the new inmates to be admitted. He drives it to the main entrance.

  Johnny looks outside to see the grounds are Spartan with a small inner court, which some inmates used to play basketball for only a couple of hours a day.

  At the main entrance, the new inmates are then unloaded, lectured, processed, showered, deloused and given blue prison uniforms. With a subsequent surrender of their street clothes, they were marched through the narrow aisle which led to their cells amid the taunts and jeers of the concupiscent inmates.

  Johnny is careful to maintain a stone face while looking at the terrifying convicts, who were waving their arms and legs out of their cells. He felt internal shivers that were racing up and down his spine with sweat clinging to his face. His eyes bulge feeling heart palpitations as he arrives at his cell, there was another inmate inside. He recognized this wasn’t a dream, but a monumental nightmare when he heard the door slamming right behind him.

  Johnny looks out into the aisle with his hands gripping the bars, listening to the perpetual howls when all of a sudden; he heard a deep, low voice calling.

  “Hey, what are you looking for?”

  He turns around very quickly not seeing anybody until he saw the outline of a man on the upper bunk. The voice repeats the last question. But, Johnny looks out saying. “Excuse me, are you talking to me?” He turns his finger on his chest.