by Kenneth Eade
Brent noticed several of the women unconsciously nodding at his argument. Now, time to reel in the men.
“Reasonable doubt tugs at every piece of evidence in this case. William, the designated driver, who had not had a drink, was suspected by Albright of driving under the influence of alcohol. This is not a crime for which deadly force should be used. Period! Officer John Albright was acting illegally when he used even bodily force to subdue William Thomas. Why didn’t he radio for backup? Because he had a serious, unarmed drunk driver on his hands? It doesn’t make any sense at all.
“Look at him! This is an innocent man!" Brent turned to William, who was choked with emotion, then back to the jury.
“You heard William testify that Officer Albright was going to erase him from the earth so his mother would not even recognize him at his funeral. You heard Mr. Washington and Mr. Jones say the same thing. You heard Miss D. testify that Albright had a propensity for violence and had also pulled his gun on an unarmed black prostitute when she had offended him and refused his advances.
“William thought he was going to be killed, and this perception is supported by the physical evidence. This belief that he was going to be killed, whether it was true or not, and that he was in grave physical danger with a gun pointed in his face, gave him the right to defend himself. And, as the judge will instruct you, if you are engaged in lawfully defending yourself and an innocent third party is killed, then you are not guilty because self-defense negates intent.
“Not only does self-defense negate intent in this case, it is a justifiable and legal excuse for homicide. Think about it. William is stopped by a zealous police officer who sees his black skin and immediately treats him like a criminal. How dare he refuse to be pushed around with a stick? A stick which the policeman uses to break his knee, several ribs, and puts him out cold on the pavement?
“Ladies and gentlemen, if William Thomas’s skin had been white, this unfortunate event never would have happened. As the judge will instruct you, reasonable doubt is a fair doubt in your mind, which leaves you, after careful examination of all the evidence, in a state where you cannot say with an abiding conviction to a moral certainty that the particular element or charge against the defendant has been proven. If you find that any one element of the People's case has not been proven beyond a reasonable doubt, you must acquit William.
“The Judge will instruct you that, if there are two reasonable inferences you can draw from the evidence, one of which leads to the conclusion that he is guilty and one of which leads to the conclusion that he is not guilty, then you must select the inference that leads to the conclusion that he is not guilty.
“Did William get so enraged that he attacked a police officer who was shoving him with a club during a drunk driving test, or did the officer push the envelope too far when he shoved him with the baton? These are both inferences you can draw from the evidence and, under the law, you must choose the inference that the officer went too far when he used force that could inflict serious bodily injury.
“Think about it. William’s got a concussion, six broken ribs, and a broken knee. Bruises and contusions all over. There’s no evidence of any injuries of Officer Albright. Does that really sound like William got so violent and dangerous that Albright had to pull a gun on him to subdue him? It looks to me like William was the one who was in danger and had to worry about his life, not Albright.
“Did William wrench the gun away from Albright or push it away from his face? These are two different inferences that arise from the same evidence, and you have a legal obligation to choose the inference that he pushed it away from his face.
“Did William intend to gain control of the weapon and fire it to murder Albright or was he simply trying to save his own life? From the evidence, William was faced with having a gun in his face after having taken a beating, and Albright telling him that his mother would not recognize him at his funeral. Ladies and gentlemen, you must choose the inference that William was trying to save his own life.
“In fact, there is only one choice you have in this case, and that is to find William Thomas not guilty of the murder of David Shermer; because the prosecution has failed to prove every element of the crime beyond a reasonable doubt and because he had the right to defend himself from death or great bodily injury.” Brent paused a beat, then said, “Thank you.”
The silence of the courtroom turned to a buzz as reporters slipped away to make their reports and the other observers in the gallery began to whisper. Brent turned to William, who had tears in his eyes.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
After the lunch break, the judge called the courtroom to order and invited Taylor to the podium to give his final closing remarks. Taylor again confidently hugged the sides of the lectern and regarded the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen, George Orwell said that people sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf. This is a reality, and we have entrusted trained police officers to carry weapons to defend us from criminals. But in the process of defending themselves from criminals, they must also defend themselves.
“The defendant had no legal right to push away Officer Albright’s baton, whether Officer Albright was right or wrong in detaining him. It was the defendant’s aggression toward Officer Albright’s exercise of authority that caused the death of Officer Shermer.
“Mr. Marks says that there are two inferences that can both be drawn from the physical evidence. This is not true. The physical evidence clearly shows that Officer Albright’s weapon had been tampered with. Officer Albright did not tamper with his own weapon. That could only have been the defendant. It was the defendant’s refusal to yield to authority and the act of taking control over Officer Albright’s gun which caused the death of David Shermer, an innocent party. If the defendant had succumbed to authority and stopped resisting, the situation would have never escalated to violence. That is the only reasonable conclusion you can draw from the evidence.
“Officer Albright had no choice but to draw his weapon. He had already been assaulted by the defendant, and was losing control over him. Drawing his gun was the only means of protection he had available to him at the time, as all other methods were on the other side of his duty belt and were unreachable.
“Were there other alternatives? This is something we cannot question. You are not allowed to use hindsight. Officers get killed in routine traffic stops. Officers get killed with their own weapons. When William Thomas put his hands on Officer Albright’s weapon, he did two things: he broke the law, and he caused the death of Officer Shermer. He knew the potential deadly consequences of grabbing that weapon. He knew of the dangerous consequences to human life. Therefore, there can be no reasonable doubt that he is guilty of this crime.”
Brent felt good about the case, but he also knew that anyone could be convicted of anything. Once the State decided to go after you (and they always did in cases where an officer of the law was killed), you were in peril. It was almost as if they didn’t care what the outcome was. If the jury found William guilty, the system had done a good job of putting away a cop killer. If they found for William, the system had done a good job of identifying a bad cop. Either way, the State won. But it was not the same for Taylor. He had to win this one.
Judge Schwartz took center stage again, reading the jury instructions to the jurors. Some of them were taking notes, even though the jury instructions would be available for them to read in the jury room. Murder, reasonable doubt, and the presumption of innocence (which the judge and both lawyers had learned about in law school and on the job) were concepts that society expected the jury to get from this one-hour seminar on criminal law and defense. This was an exercise in idiocracy, but it had to be done. After the jury was sent off to the jury room to deliberate, the gallery cleared out completely. Brent shook William’s hand before he was taken by the Bailiff, and he turned to Sarah and smiled. Sarah smiled back, knowing that William was innocent and
that everything had been done that could possibly have been done to prove that. Taylor went out to talk to the reporters.
Brent stayed behind with Sarah. They would stay in the courtroom and wait for the verdict. He cautioned her that it is impossible to second guess a jury, but if they come back with a verdict right away, it’s usually a not-guilty one. At five o’clock, the jury still had not spoken.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
After two days of waiting, the court finally called Brent at his office. The jury had reached a verdict and he was due in court at 1:30 p.m. Brent called Sarah and flew out the door.
By the time Brent got to court, the doors had still not opened. Sarah arrived just in time as well. She threw her arms around Brent with emotion, and thanked him for helping. She was shaking.
The doors to Department N opened and Brent, Sarah, Taylor and a mob of reporters (as well as the curious public) filed in. William took his place at the counsel table with Brent. Judge Schwartz took the bench and the jury filed in, all wearing serious faces. Taylor, Brent and William all stood up for them, although William felt like he was facing a firing squad.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you elected a foreman?”
“We have, Your Honor," said George Fredericks, a retired postal worker.
“Mr. Foreman, have you reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said Fredericks.
“Please hand your verdict to the Clerk.”
Fredericks handed the verdict over like it was something he was relieved to get rid of. The Clerk handed the verdict to the judge, who read it with absolutely no emotion. The seconds seemed to slow down during this entire process. The judge handed the verdict back to the Clerk.
“The Clerk will publish the verdict.”
The Clerk stood, and William held his breath while Sarah prayed silently, although prayers could do nothing to change what had been written on that piece of paper at this point.
“We the jury, in the cause now pending before us, find the defendant, William Thomas, not guilty of murder.”
William’s knees buckled, and he braced himself from falling with his outstretched arms on the counsel table. Sarah cried. Taylor polled the jury. The verdict was unanimous.
“The Defendant, having been found not guilty, is discharged and is free to go after being processed,” said the judge, who thanked the jury for their service. He absolved them of their duty of silence, except to keep quiet about the identity and testimony of Miss D, and told them they were welcome to speak to the attorneys. Taylor went into the corridor to speak with the several jurors who had stayed behind, but Brent stayed behind with Sarah to wait for William. He never spoke to juries and he didn’t want to know how this one had come to their decision. It was often so nonsensical that he felt it was better never to know. All he did know was that justice, this time, had been done.
EPILOGUE
The sun was shining, the birds signing, and Danny and Sissy were running around in the back yard as William put the steaks on the grill. Jack relaxed and chatted with William and Brent as the steam rose from the barbeque and Angela sat with Sarah and watched the children play.
“There are no words I can say that can express to you two how thankful I am,” said William. “I owe you my life.”
“Just don’t mess up my steak,” said Brent.
William laughed, then asked, “What will happen to Albright?”
“He and his buddies will probably do time for running a prostitution ring. They’ve all been suspended from duty,” said Jack.
“If only that solved the problem,” said William.
“William, you’re a part of the solution. Hopefully, your case will be a beacon for change and this country will finally stand for the principles that it says it believes in.”
“I don’t know about that, but at least one good thing came out of being in that jail.”
“What’s that?”
“You know that guy that I told you about who was protecting me in prison – Curly?”
“Yes, I remember. What about him?”
“Looks like he’s in there on a bum rap himself. He’s not a bad guy; just had to be tough to survive on the inside. I think I can get him out.”
“That’s how it works, William. One step at a time, one day at a time. It all begins and ends with us. All of us.”
AFTERWORD
This is a fictional story, but it strikes at the heart of something which is tearing our country apart. We have become desensitized to violence and we have never been able to come to terms with our racist past. We have objectified people. We classify them and see them as objects instead of human beings. Our police forces are paramilitary forces that are in constant search of an enemy, and we have become too willing to accept war and violence as part of our existence as a country.
The prologue in this book is based on a true, real life story. The only difference is that the two boys were not black. If they had been, it could have been a completely different outcome.
This is not what this country is all about. This is not the country that I grew up in, where war was a bad thing and tolerance a good thing. We are a country of immigrants. We all belong here. The jury in the case depicted in this novel came to the right conclusion, but it could have just as easily gone the other way.
If we speak out against the abuses in our government and educate our children to be blind to skin color and tolerant of our neighbors, perhaps we can rise above our checkered past and we will not have to worry that the police will abuse their power.
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KILLER.COM
KENNETH EADE
For Joyce, my first and longest enduring fan
”Monsters don’t exist. It’s men you should be afraid of, not monsters.”
-Niccolo Ammaniti
PROLOGUE
The boys lined up in six squads of seven, dressed in the tomato-red shorts and bleached white shirts of their Hale Jr. High School gym uniforms. It was a bright southern California day, the sun blazing high above the field where the boys were in line. Each squad had a leader who answered to Coach Vince Nieman, who was nothing more than a grown-up boy himself: a has-been, first string high school football player who used to be good enough to land himself a spot on the bench in exchange for a college football scholarship. Now he wasn’t good enough for anything but teaching P.E. Brent’s squad leader was a C- student named Russ Carlton, a bulky, red-haired, freckle-faced bully whom, even in middle school, every one of his teachers would have voted as most likely to become a criminal - that is, except for Coach Nieman, who found his brawn useful for crowd control.
Brent hung his head down and filed in. He hated P.E. and made no secret about it.
“You’re a fag, Marquez!” Russ Carlton spouted.
“A dickless fag!” chimed in another.
“You’re a dickless fag who sucks dick!” Now there was a chorus.
“Do it, Steinman!” Russ commanded.
That was the cue for Gary Steinman, a skinny, pathetic-looking kid with a generous brown bush of frizzy, crumpled hair, to fall in line behind Brent. With both hands he grabbed the waistband of Brent’s shorts and underwear and pulled down with all his strength, until they were dangling around Brent’s ankles. Gary’s efforts were rewarded by a cacophony of belly laughter from everyone.
As Brent pulled up his shorts and began to run away, Russ aff
irmed to the group: “See, I told you he was a fag!”
“Yeah, what a pussy!” exclaimed Gary.
Brent ran past Coach Nieman and into the locker room.
“Where do you think you’re going, Marquez?” asked the Coach. Brent ignored him. Then he turned to Russ. “Carlton, go get Marquez and bring him back out here."
“Come on, Steinman,” commanded Russ as he ran after Brent into the locker room. Steinman followed him like a trained dog.
Brent spun the lock on his gym locker and opened it. The locker room smelled: a combination of the stench of armpits, sweaty balls, and dirty stale socks. He was just putting a leg into his jeans when the two arrived.
“Suit up, Marquez. Coach wants you back out there.”
Brent pretended not to hear Russ and kept putting on his street clothes.
“What are you, deaf, faggot?” asked Steinman.
“I heard you. I’m not going.”
“Get him, Steinman," Russ said as he shoved Gary Steinman into Brent, slamming Brent’s back against the locker. Like a cobra, Brent came back at Steinman, grabbing his left arm, which he twisted behind his back, and applying pressure upward, causing Steinman to wince as he turned and smashed his nose against the locker door.
“Who’s the faggot now, Steinman?” Brent bellowed into his ear.
“Let him go, Marquez, or I’ll fuck you up,” threatened Russ Carlton. Brent ignored Carlton and kept up the pressure.