by A R Kennedy
“Love your pets all you want. But, in the eyes of the law, they are considered property. If she’d shot the intruder for threatening a television with a knife, you wouldn’t even be considering whether she was a murderer. You’ve heard the expert, that dog is worth less than a flat screen.
“The law says our pets are property. Can you go into a store and buy a baby? No.
“Can you go into a pet store and buy a dog? Yes.
“Baby, Human. Dog, property.
“You are not here to make new laws. You are here to judge on one case. That of the murder of Robert Gabbert by Cecilia Chandler.” While speaking her name, he pointed to her and the entire courtroom looked at her.
Except Sewell, who was watching Briscoe.
Sewell hid his surprise when Briscoe sat down. But he’d used a good public speaking trick. Reiterating Cecilia murdering Gabbert three times.
The hick lawyer Sewell had expected when he accepted the case wasn’t the one he got. Sewell smiled at his adversary, who did not return the smile.
Wyatt Sewell stood to present his closing argument. He buttoned his jacket and looked at Cecilia. He gave her a reassuring smile before turning to the jury.
“First, I’d like to thank all of you for your time and attention in hearing Cecilia’s case. We know it has been difficult for you to be away from your family during the trial. Especially since it’s the holidays. But we’ll come back to the holidays, in a minute.”
He walked over to the witness stand and leaned against it. “You’ve heard Mr. Briscoe and the police. Cecilia shot and killed Robert Gabbert. You’ve heard Cecilia. She shot and killed him in self-defense of her family. To save her dog, Ferris.
“Now, Mr. Briscoe here says that Ferris, that any dog, is property.
“Did you know that in some parts of the world a woman in the eyes of the law is viewed as property? Did you know even here in the United States, up into the 1800s, women were viewed as property? Under the doctrine of coverture, from English common law, a woman was legally considered a possession of her husband.”
Mr. Sewell noted the looks of anger on the women’s faces. “I know. Absurd right? A person, a man, a woman is not property. A living, breathing, loving animal is not property.
“But yet, even in those arcane times, if a woman was murdered, the assailant was charged with murder, not criminal damage.
“But I’m not arguing ‘basic biology’ with you. I’m not saying Ferris is human. I’m saying he’s family. And what defines family? Love.
“Did you know that sixty-five percent of American households have a pet? A study found that only one percent of pet owners considered their pets property. One percent! Did you know that a study found that over sixty percent of pet owners considered their pets family members? Another survey found ninety percent of owners considered their pets part of the family. Millions of Americans can’t be wrong.
“We all know a dog is man’s best friend. How can that ‘friend’ be property?”
He stood and walked to the other side of the jury box.
“You’ve heard the witnesses. The ones who have a dog or a cat, they buy them a Christmas gift. You also heard them say they didn’t buy their car, their television, their oven, their couch, their gun Christmas gifts.
“They buy their children, their wife, their mother a Christmas gift.
“But they don’t buy their patrol car, their front door, or their desk a Christmas gift.
“They buy gifts for their family, but not their property.”
Mr. Sewell motioned to Michael, who was standing in the back of the courtroom. He opened the door and someone handed him a camouflage leash.
A soft muttering of “ahhs” was heard through the crowd as Ferris slowly walked in. Overwhelmed by the size of the crowd, he kept his head down and his body close to the only one he knew, Michael.
Many reached for Ferris, as he walked by, to pat his golden fur. Those farther away leaned in to get as good a look at him as they could.
Ferris walked obediently at Michael’s heel. He looked around at all the people, not stopping for any until he saw Briscoe. He sat in front of him and looked at him. Most thought Briscoe was glaring at Ferris. Many expected him to growl at Ferris. Ferris licked his hand, and all were stunned when a smile slowly appeared on Briscoe’s face. One even creeped onto Mr. Derby’s face, the jury foreman.
Ferris looked around for a new attraction. Michael lost control when Ferris saw Cecilia. Ferris jumped onto her, placing his paws on her knees and hitting his head against hers. She laughed at his clumsiness while he licked her face. She pulled him close, rubbing his neck the way he liked, and cried. She hoped this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be able to be this close to Ferris. When she let him go, he licked her tears away.
Cecilia smiled. Looking into his eyes, she briefly forgot she was in a courtroom, at the end of a trial to determine her future.
A hush had come over the crowd. Despite his whispered tone, Mr. Sewell could be heard telling the jury, “Now that’s love. I don’t know about you, but my property does not love me like that.”
EPILOGUE
Cecilia sat in the backyard on one of the two Adirondack chairs. Dressed in a purple asymmetrical top and a patterned skirt, she stretched her legs out. Ferris sat next to her.
Her phone dinged. A Google Alert for the town of Folley. It was official. Folley’s prosecutor had won the state senator race. She wondered if he would have won the campaign if he had won the case. She transferred the article to a folder on her phone.
It joined articles and tidbits on other post-trial events. Michael had sent a picture of himself standing by the F150, which Cecilia sold to him at a very reasonable price. Cecilia had saved Abigail’s news conference on her first case on her own. Wyatt sent the link of a video of his acceptance speech at the state’s animal association Man of the Year dinner. He included a picture of himself and his companion for the night, Ferris.
The folder even had an article about CB’s Diner. The Food Network heard of the diner’s popular special and featured the restaurant on an episode. CB’s Sloppy Joes would be available across the country for sale in grocery stores in the fall.
Cecilia shut off her phone, returning her attention to the scene before her. She marveled at the beautiful sunset. The oranges, the pinks, the purples. The beauty of it all. She wondered if it was always this beautiful. Or had it changed? But she was probably the one who had changed.
She finally saw what Joey could see in this place. The beauty of life in the country.
Ferris’s ears perked up and he ran for the far fence. Seconds later, Holden hopped over the fence and patted his friend on his head. He grabbed a ball from his backpack and threw it. Ferris chased after it.
Cecilia smiled as she watched Holden approach her. “You know you can come to the front door now.”
“I know.” They watched as Ferris got distracted from the ball and ran after a squirrel. “More fun this way.”
“Vinnie get off okay?” Cecilia asked.
“Yep, he’s the sheriff’s problem now.”
She laughed and he loved how it made her whole face glow. “You’re going to miss him,” she told him.
He didn’t disagree. He sat next to her in the other chair. Out of his bag, he pulled out a six pack of Mountain Dew bottles.
“Bottles?” she asked. “How fancy.”
He opened one and handed it to her, then opened one for himself. He held his up and considered what to toast to. She held hers up, waiting for him.
“To the future,” he chose.
Cecilia heard Ferris before she saw him. He collided into the two of them and their sodas, spilling soda everywhere. Laughing, she wiped the soda from her face, then held her bottle up again to complete the toast.
Cecilia leaned in and kissed Holden. “To our future.”
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Acknowledgements
Saving Ferris was born at the Writers’ Police Academy. If you are a writer, check out this amazing hands-on writing conference. I cannot thank Lee Lofland enough for inventing and organizing this phenomenal event.
As always, thank you to my wonderful editor, Lourdes Venard, and my brilliant cover artist, Karen Phillips.
Thank you to my fabulous beta reader, Jackie Robins, for her continued support.
And, of course, thank you to my family—my mom and my little doggo, h.
We miss you, H. Always.