“Now, when you say he, you’re referring to Mr. Ripton, correct?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes sir,” the witness responded as he placed the glass on the stand.
This sounds so rehearsed. These bastards.
“Now, what else transpired during this visit? Please be specific,” the prosecutor sighed.
“Well, we talked for about thirty minutes. He spent the entire time explaining to me the need to be respectful to women at all times. He said if I continued to be violent toward my girlfriend, he would turn me in to the authorities,” the witness stated.
“Go on,” the prosecutor said as he tapped his hands against the lectern.
“Uhhm, that’s pretty much it. He excused himself and left,” the witness said as he picked up the water glass and raised it to his mouth.
Thank God. A moment of clarity. A spiritual awakening.
The prosecutor stepped a few feet from the lectern and rubbed his hands together, studying the witness as he walked. As he stepped back to the lectern, he placed his hands on the edges, and gripped the wooden platform.
“And that was the extent of the visit? He came, spoke to you, and left? Without incident?” the prosecutor asked, clearly frustrated as the tone of his voice changed.
“Yes sir. In fact, it was…well…it uhhm. It was kind of a turning point for me. It caused me to realize I was wrong. I’m trying to turn my life around now, thanks to him,” he picked up the glass again and raised it to his mouth.
I sighed and smiled as I covering my mouth with my hand. I glanced at Michael, who miraculously continued to stare straight ahead, without emotion, his glasses resting high on his nose.
The prosecutor shook his head slightly and released the edge of the lectern.
“No further questions your honor,” he said as he turned and walked away.
“Your witness. Care to cross?” the judge asked.
I slowly stood and studied the witness as I thought of what I could potentially gain from cross examining him. Sometimes it is best to leave things just the way they are. This was one of those times.
“No, your honor. I have no questions for this witness,” I pressed my skirt to my thighs and sat down.
“Mr. Triston?” the judge asked, his glasses dangling from his fingers as he spoke.
“You honor,” the prosecutor hesitated.
“The state rests its case,” he said flatly.
Thank God.
“Mrs. Simon?” the judge asked.
“Your honor, defense has nothing further,” I responded as I raised my hand to my face.
“You’re dismissed son,” the judge said to the witness.
I think I should ask. You never know.
I stood from my chair.
“Your honor, with all due respect. I respectfully request that the court strongly consider dismissal of the charges. Citing The State of Texas versus Blackshere, based on the evidence presented, and the lack of supporting evidence to indicate guilt on the part of the defendant for the charges against him, I request dismissal based on insufficient evidence,” I smiled and stood, waiting for the judge to respond.
“Mrs. Simon, you may file the motion,” he hesitated.
“Which will be denied. I believe there is sufficient evidence to proceed, allowing the jury to decide innocence or guilt, not this court. Have you anything further?” he asked as he pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down at his desk.
“No, your honor.”
Fuck.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have been presented all of the evidence in this case that you will be presented. In a moment, you’ll hear closing statements. After that, you will decide innocence or guilt on the part of the defendant based on the evidence presented. Amongst yourselves, you will assign a foreman, which will act as the head spokesperson for you as a group. Correspondence will go through him or her to the court. Counsel, are you prepared for closing statements?” the judge asked the prosecutor.
“Yes your honor,” he responded.
The prosecutor stood and walked in front of the jury. I expected, considering the botched witness at the end of the trial that he’d keep his statement simple.
“Ladies and gentlemen. This case is simple. In the beginning, I told you that we would prove the defendant murdered someone who had attempted to defend his home. We did just that. Defense presented no evidence to dispute her client killed the man in question. The circumstances surrounding the murder are things that we will never know for certain. Why? Because that man,” the prosecutor pointed at Michael.
“Made sure he wouldn’t be here to testify. I request you ask yourselves this: if he knocks on your door tonight, what will you do? Find in favor of the prosecution, find guilt,” he turned and walked back to his seat.
“Counsel,” the judge said over his glasses.
“Thank you your honor,” I said as I stood.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. You’ve been robbed at gunpoint in a botched carjacking. You attempt to feel less vulnerable and take hand to hand combat classes. Self-defense becomes second nature. A few weeks later, you go see a family friend. A drunken man answers the door with a loaded gun. He points it at your torso. You ask him to put it away, and he points it at your head,” I pointed my index finger at my head.
“You react. In an effort to save yourself, you react,” I moved my extended finger from my head and pointed it, like a child makes his hand form a gun, at the jury as I walked the length of the jurors.
“Unfortunately, the man with the gun dies from a broken neck. You’re filled with emotion and sorrow. But it was either him or you. I asked you before this trial started, to think. If it was you, how would you have reacted? Is it acceptable to pull a gun on anyone that comes to your door? I’ll ask you one more thing. Gun owners need to be responsible, and not handle firearms when they’re drunk. If the defendant had not reacted in the manner that he did, what do you think would have happened?” I paused, my finger now pointed at the center juror.
He stared, confused. He began to visibly shake in his seat.
“What would you have…” I hesitated and raised my eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.
“Boom! Too late. You made the wrong decision. You should have reacted differently,” I shook my head.
“That’s all I have,” as I turned and walked to my seat I held my index finger to my mouth and blew at the tip loud enough for the jury could hear.
“Counsel?” the judge asked the prosecutor.
“Nothing else your honor,” Triston responded.
“Jurors, you will now be released and receive your instructions in what you must find to determine innocence or guilt as a matter of law in regard to this specific case. If there are any questions that arise during the deliberation procedure, the foreman may ask the court in writing,” the judge pushed himself away from the desk and nodded at the bailiff.
“You are dismissed to the confines of the deliberation room,” the judge stated.
As the deputy guided the jurors out of the courtroom, I sighed. I felt as if I had done my best to defend all of the evidence presented against Michael. Now comes the tough part, the waiting. I turned slightly and looked at Michael. As he had through the course of the trial, he stared straight ahead.
“All rise,” the bailiff howled.
As we stood the judge exited to his chambers.
“What now?” Michael whispered.
“Well, now we wait. It could take hours or days. We wait here until the jury is dismissed for the day. As early as it is, I suspect they’ll deliberate all day. I know it’s exhausting and difficult, but it’s part of the process,” I whispered over my shoulder.
“How long until he gives the instructions to them?” he asked.
“He’ll do it right away. He’s already got them typed. Probably did it last night. He’ll give them the instructions within a few minutes, they’ll read them, and then they’ll begin deliberating. Deliberation consists of whatev
er they want. It could be reenacting the crime, reading testimony, recollection of facts, or discussing the case. Like I said, it could take days.
“I feel sick,” he sighed.
“That’s normal. Do you want to go to the bathroom or get a drink?” I asked.
“Yes ma’am,” he responded as he stood.
Seeing Michael like this was difficult for me. A man that is certain of who he is and what he stands for questioned by the government for standing up against the very thing that he believes in. In the last month he had become an emotional mess. Through the course of preparing for the case we had both become far less interested in being affectionate toward one another.
The lack of affection had led to a non-existent sex life. I didn’t want the lack of sex to cause Michael to wonder where my devotion lay. My devotion was now and would always be with him, regardless of the outcome.
“Michael,” I said as I stood from the chair.
He turned to face me and raised one eyebrow slightly as he pressed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. As he stood, he tugged at his tie and straightened his jacket. He looked remarkable the way he was dressed. I looked at him slightly disappointed as I realized the events that required him to dress in this manner.
“I pizz you,” I whispered.
“I pizz you back,” he responded, smiling.
“Now Vee, I’ve got to piss,” he smiled and whispered.
“Alright, let’s walk. Remember, just like before. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t make eye contact with or talk to the jurors if you see one, understood?” I reminded him.
“Yes ma’am,” he responded.
I looked around the courtroom and realized that we were the only ones left in the room. Everyone else had left after the jury was released. I glanced to where the jury had been seated and attempted to understand that twelve of Michael’s peers would decide what his fate would be. The man that I love was facing a decade in prison or more for a murder that wasn’t necessarily a murder.
“You alright, babe?” he asked over his left shoulder.
“Yes. I’ll be fine,” I shook my head and turned toward the exit, “come on.”
As we started walking to the door, I stepped in front of him and grabbed the door handle to pull the door open. Immediately, the door opened and the deputy walked in, clearly short of breath.
“Is there a problem,” I asked.
“No ma’am. The jury has reached a verdict,” he stated.
“In this case?” I stammered.
Please no, this is not enough time. Please no.
“Yes ma’am. They asked me to find you. The jury is coming back in,” he exhaled.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Vee?” Michael said softly.
“Vee?” he repeated.
“Yes,” I looked up and into his eyes.
“What’s this mean? Fifteen minutes is all?” he asked, visibly nervous of the fact that this would soon be decided.
I couldn’t tell him what I thought. I couldn’t tell him the beliefs of attorneys regarding quick verdicts. Typically there were always people on a jury that believed a person is guilty if he is charged with a crime. Instead of the defendant being innocent until proven guilty, in these people’s eyes, they are guilty until proven innocent. As each jury typically has at least two people who believe in this manner, swaying them to believe innocence takes time. A quick verdict is almost always a guilty verdict.
“It’s hard to say,” I said as I looked around the courtroom.
People began to come into the courtroom and sit down. Slowly, we walked back to our desk and stood behind the chairs.
“Well, say. Tell me what your gut tells you,” he whispered as he looked around the room.
“Michael, I hate to say what…” I began to speak.
“Tell me,” he said sternly through his clenched teeth.
“It’s just hard to say, Michael…”
“Tell me, Vee,” he grunted.
“I love you Michael,” I said, attempting to maintain a professional posture.
“Vee…” his voice trailed off.
“Guilt. Typically it means guilt,” I admitted, nodding my head slowly.
“Well, I ain’t your typical guy,” he pulled his chair from the table.
“Sit down and attempt to show no emotion,” he reached over and pulled my chair away from the table, “you look like you’re going to cry.”
He sat down, interlocked his fingers, and placed his elbows on the table. As I sat in my seat, he looked to his left and attempted his best to force a smile.
“Here in a few minutes all of this will be over, Vee. One way or another. If I’m guilty, will they take me to jail right now?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“Okay. Well, either way. I love you. And, if they find me guilty, I want to appeal the decision. But, I want you to wait for me. I know this, and I don’t know how it happened, and I’d never believe it if it didn’t happen to me, but it did. There’s one woman on this earth for me, Vivian. Just one. That woman’s you. I want you to wait for me, okay?” he said calmly.
I felt as if my heart was going to beat out of my chest. A guilty verdict for a client in the past meant a loss and an appeal of the decision. Now, a guilty verdict meant a life changing experience. The man I loved would be taken from me, and placed in prison. I swallowed and nodded my head.
“I will wait as long as it takes,” I responded.
As long as it takes.
CHAPTER XIII - HAVE YOU REACHED A VERDICT
RIPP. There was absolutely nothing about going to prison that appealed to me. My talks with A-Train and my father had provided me some reassurance that regardless of what happened, I was doing what was expected of me and what was best by standing up to fight the charges against me.
I sat in my seat and stared straight ahead, full of an emotion I was not familiar with. I felt sick, slightly delirious, and full of fear. I didn’t fear the outcome as much as I feared not knowing. I wanted this nightmare to be over.
“All rise,” the bailiff bellowed.
I rose from my chair and stared straight ahead. My legs shook as I attempted to stand. Fifteen minutes of deliberation could only mean one thing. These assholes were going to fry me.
According to Vee, I’d be guilty.
I stood and stared at the jurors with my lips pursed.
“In the matter of The State of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton, for the charge of second degree murder, have you reached a verdict?” the judge asked.
“Yes your honor, we have,” the jury foreman responded.
“Is the decision unanimous?” the judge asked.
“Yes your honor, it is,” the foreman responded as he unfolded a sheet of paper.
“Please read the verdict,” the judge said as he pulled his eye glasses from his face.
I heard a dull ringing in my ears and felt as if I was going to pass out at any moment.
“In the matter of The State of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton, for the charge of second degree murder, we find the defendant…” he paused and looked down at the paper he held.
Are you serious? What don’t have enough guts to say it?
In what was more than likely a fraction of a second of hesitation on the foreman of the jury’s part to read the verdict, I felt as if I aged a few years. The words hung on his lips for a long moment. When he finally read the verdict, I felt as if I was going to collapse. I stood in shock and attempted not to hear him. No emotion, Vee had said show no emotion. I wanted the foreman to repeat it, over and over, each time sending a jolt of electricity through my spine.
Finally, this was over.
“Did you hear what he said?” Vee whispered over her right shoulder.
I nodded my head once and stared straight ahead.
“Just stand there, respectfully, until the jury is dismissed,” she breathed.
My lips still pursed, I nodded my head once and looked s
traight ahead.
“Juror number one is this verdict consistent with your finding?” the judge asked.
“Yes your honor.”
“Number two?”
“Yes your honor.”
“Number three?”
“Yes your honor.”
“Number four?”
“Yes your honor” the foreman stated.
“Five?”
“Yes your honor.”
“Six?”
“Yes sir.”
“Seven?”
“Yes sir, it is.”
“Eight?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Nine, juror nine?”
“Yes sir, it is correct.”
“Ten?”
“Yes sir.”
“Eleven?”
“Yes sir.”
“And juror number twelve?”
“Yes your honor, it is.” The last juror responded.
Well then, it is unanimous. I thank you for your service.
“In the matter of the state of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton, the defendant chose trial by jury, and the jury finds the defendant…”
I needed to hear it again. One more time, just to be certain I heard the foreman correctly.
One more time.
Just one.
CHAPTER XIV - I GOT THIS
VEE. The verdict left me speechless. I attempted to maintain an emotionless face as the jury was polled. Although it was difficult, I think Michael and I both did well. Waiting for the jury to be polled seemed to take forever. The only thing I could think about as the judge questioned each of them was how bad I wanted to just leave. I wanted to go away, to walk out and never step foot in a courtroom again. As many trials as I had played a part in, I had never actually been involved emotionally in one of them. As an attorney, we must separate ourselves emotionally from our clients.
This particular client was an emotional attachment. And for that, I was grateful.
I stood, staring ahead for the judge to make the verdict a matter of record.
“In the matter of the state of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton, the defendant chose trial by jury, and the jury finds the defendant, Michael A. Ripton, not guilty.”
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