by Matt Shaner
I watched the jury through the direct questioning. They were attentive, and I reasoned that the ideas were a lot to dissolve and work through. The purpose of any prosecuting case is to make the defendant a generic person, make them lose their identity. The people sitting on a jury must only see the crime. They can only know the cause and effect. The victims are the ones whose identities should be the care of the jury members.
The defense has a different burden. They must give the defendant an identity. They must focus attention onto that person and give them a face for the jury. The jury has to see a person with value, family and a soul that deserves consideration when punishment is considered.
The attorneys had spent their time laying out their version of things. I know that a few pages doesn’t do the trial justice, at this point, but it will spare you long and boring reading. The actual words are on file as court record. The point, though, is what happened after the sides were presented. To give you the entire picture, you need to see what led up to the event. This half, the defense presentation, was the direct cause of everything.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Her Defense
Time passed. From the start of the trial, the excitement now dimmed, and each day increased our boredom. When the prosecution case wound down, the interest peaked again, and I was sure that Julia had something prepared. For a person who was so scheming and devious, she had to be ready.
The defense started by calling some police officers to the stand. I did not recognize the men, but after hearing the testimony, I knew they had seen their fill of me. The officers were the ones posted by the development when everything started to go down. I could finally place some faces with the people who staffed the repair van surveillance station. They were younger than I thought. They wore the look of people who used to get beat up in high school and now joined the police force as a way to get back at everyone who wronged them in their early years.
These officers, Stevens and Mitchell, presented some of the tapes and photos taken during their shifts in front of our houses. They knew much more than I anticipated. Their testimony was also skewed to take any blame off of Julia and replace it onto another source. The lawyer guided them through profiles of the parties involved.
Shawn was shown in phone calls and pictures to have discussed things with the others and me. The tone of the tapes was general though and did not hint to anything out of the ordinary. The snapshots were of meetings and used to show Julia’s lack of communication with all of us. The point of these witnesses started to become clear in that they would tie Bryan into the conspiracies. Julia would just be the innocent housewife.
Drew, despite being deceased, was drawn in with the confrontations that lead to the shooting. His decline in mental state came into play. The recording of the phone call to police was also played to the court and was absent of Julia’s voice. I knew that she knew the tape would be free of her involvement.
After the police officers were called, the picture was painted even further by having other members of Bryan’s family testify. I don’t know how she did it. I found out later that she had them all tricked. The family was originally from out of the area, and their only connection to the couple was through hearsay. The first surprise came from Bryan’s father.
The man, well dressed and coherent, took the stand and dominated for the entire time. He was around seventy years old and an active college professor. He looked around the room with a disdain shown in his expression. It was obvious he came in prepared. I did not envy anyone who would cross his path.
On the stand, he came across as too smart and too good. He stated everything he knew to put down his son. He spoke of having a smart but angry loner as a son. He spoke of a son who never lived up to his expectations. He explained that Julia was the best thing that ever happened to Bryan. Bryan was unstable, and it did not surprise him that his son would just run off somewhere.
“I was ashamed, and I still am,” he said before he stepped down. I could understand some of Bryan’s distress.
Despite a cross examination that contained some good questioning, he did not waver, and this damaging information hung out over the minds of the jury.
The next to speak was Bryan’s mother. She was a more fragile version of his father. It was obvious that she loved her son. It was also obvious that she was a slave to her husband. The defense seemed desperate to paint a darker picture of the only missing person involved. We were the sole people in the courtroom who knew that Bryan wasn’t missing, and that he was closer than anyone imagined.
The end of this phase of defense witnesses happened when the prosecution objected to putting Bryan on trial. The judge agreed, recessed and ordered the defense to change their tactics for the remainder of the proceedings. The attorney announced that Julia would be the first witness the next day, and that would start things off on a better note. We were not the only ones surprised by that announcement.
Chapter Fifty-Six
That Night
It was a reminder of the past and the peaceful gatherings that complemented our initial move into the house. The last people involved sat in our living room. We were all drinking coffee, and the night seemed to drag on by minutes. Time was no longer an issue. I decided to be the first to get to the heart of the matter.
We created a circle and were taking in the situation. Sarah, Val, Shawn, Erica and I felt small but connected in the room.
“I can’t go to jail,” Shawn said.
“No one is going anywhere,” I replied, trying to keep a sense of everything. Sarah had a vacant look on her face.
“Did you hear me? I cannot go to jail.” Erica put her hand on Shawn’s shoulder. He dropped his head.
“I see things as even,” Val said.
“Nothing is even,” Shawn said. His negativity was starting to bring things down a step.
“We have to be able to do something.” Sarah spoke, and it drew our attention. It sounded like her voice wasn’t used for days and was barely audible.
“I agree. She hasn’t played fair this entire time and neither should we,” Erica said. They did not know that I already had a plan in my head. They did not know about the phone calls I’d been receiving at night.
“Drew would want something done.” Sarah choked off the end of her words.
“Let’s kill her.” This time it was Erica that said something to take us all back. Shawn even jumped to attention.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“Yes I do,” she said. “Look, each day I see where they transport her in. One of us would just have to wait for her and . . .”
“Take the fall,” Val said. That was the bottom line. We all sacrificed so much that a final crime was out of the question. It hit me that I was the only true killer in the room. Everyone else was the accessory to the crime. No one even questioned it.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
More Harassment
The calls started a few nights into the trial. Julia wouldn’t quit her jailhouse harassment, and I started deleting all the caller records. I had the number blocked, and she told her lawyer to call me. I was going to be the prime target now that Shawn turned her down. It amazed me that someone just could not play fair, but then of course, neither did I. She kept telling me that I knew something. She also told me that the only way out was to send another person else up. They were close, she said.
The letters started to arrive every couple of days. They were only a few sentences, and I shredded or burnt every one. They asked me to jump sides. They wanted a big swing and something to turn things around. A defection would complete that effort. I ignored it.
One day at the end of court, things changed.
The defense attorney asked the judge to approach the bench, and our lawyer joined him. They talked for a few minutes. Our lawyer became agitated. The judge raised his tone slightly, and he calmed d
own. The judge adjourned for the day, and the lawyers returned to their tables. He grabbed me and leaned in.
“We need to talk.”
I followed him up to his office. I told Val, and she talked with Sarah and waited for me. We sat down by the desk in the same arrangement as the first day we met.
“You’re being called tomorrow. The witness lists were changed, and you are now testifying for the defense. Mind telling me why?” he asked. I saw a fire there I only noticed one time before; the night he threatened our lives outside by Bryan’s house.
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“Oh bullshit. It was cleared with the judge, and you are up, ready or not.”
“I’m telling you; I know nothing about it.” She must have gone forward and was tired of waiting for me. There would be no choice now. If I bowed out, it would look bad for the prosecution. They could use the refusal to testify as grounds for a mistrial. If I went up and talked against the defense, they could hold me in contempt. It was not a good position to be caught in.
“I have responsibility as your representation. You have responsibility to me. Do you realize how serious this is? You have a future to think about. You have a wife, man. I’ve seen people destroy their lives in that room. I’ve seen fathers and mothers separated from their families for the rest of their existence. Do you want to be one of them?” he stopped and breathed in.
“No. No, I do not want to be one of them. I also do not know why you insist on badgering me. I told you, I know nothing of it,” I said.
“He’s going to try to turn your side. That’s what it looks like already. The media will have a field day with this.” He looked over and outside his window. “They’re waiting outside for you.” That thought did not comfort me.
“How about an escort outside?”
“Not right now. I need to prepare for the cross examination tomorrow,” he said. I did not like his tone. I stood up and walked out.
Val and I hurried through the press mob and made it home. She asked me about everything, and I was honest that I had no idea why I was called or what was coming. We went to bed, and I had trouble sleeping. The next day would be a turning point.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
My Turn to Tell the Story
I never liked being on stage. No one enjoys the feeling, and it was not making me happy. I didn’t sleep well, and nothing went right in the morning. I dropped things. I tore the button from my dress shirt. For some reason, my tie did not have a good knot, and everything was an irritation. Val noticed my tension and kept her distance. We drove there, and I couldn’t help but feel that this normal drive would be leading me to an important and valuable moment in my life. Such moments you had to connect with and hold on to or you’d miss them and regret their lack of presence. Experience was better in the current time then the past was in regret.
We arrived at the courthouse, and the focus of the crowd was now on us. They knew our vehicle by this point, and we were swarmed from when we turned the corner all the way into the garage. After fighting to get inside, we walked up the stairs and to the courtroom. Our lawyer was talking to the defense lawyer. They looked at us, turned and went inside. The cameras were snapping all the way into the room. The bailiffs, posted out in the hallway, fought them off.
When I walked in the room, the conversations died down, and people shifted their glances. Silence fell over the entire room, and we were watched all the way to our seats. My nerves were twisting on high, and the temperature of the room felt like it raised about ten degrees. It seemed like those faces on the mural that we were staring at all this time were staring back at me. The reporters with small tablets were busy jotting down, what I’m sure ended up being, how I looked that morning. They wanted every detail right.
Was I prepared? Thinking back now, I don’t know. Maybe. I wrote down some things the night before but threw them out in the morning. I always found, that like taking a test, there was a point where you could study too hard, and then you would end up forgetting everything. It happened too many times in school, and it was not going to happen now. I didn’t worry about spin; it was just time to talk. This would be the first chance on the national stage, as I knew each word would find its way into the news in some form.
This was momentary celebrity and not of the good kind. Then again, not many cases of momentary celebrity fell under that good category. A large antique clock stood above the mural, and I watched it. The hands ticked away, and even though I only had seven minutes until the trial started, it felt like an eternity. No reporter had the nerve to come over to me. Val held my hand, and that created a flurry of note taking. I looked to Shawn, and he was watching me. I was reading his face, and his glance felt like a chess game. He did his part, and he was waiting for me to do mine.
Again, the judge was late. People started to shift in their seats. The defense attorney had the audacity to smile at me, and I wanted to punch him in the face, but I figured that would not help my case in any way. Julia did not look at me. She had this perfected as she calmly made notes and conferred with her lawyer each day of the trail. She was nothing short of trained and immaculate.
The judge arrived ten minutes late, and we started.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
My Testimony
I don’t think nervous is the right word. Anticipation and pressure were sitting on my chest and focused at a spot right behind my eyes. The room felt quiet and hot. I knew my face would be getting redder with each passing second. I loosened my tie. That did not help a slight gagging feeling in my throat.
Everyone rose and sat as the judge took his place on the chair. He shuffled papers around, and I begged, in my mind, for him to start the proceedings. A bailiff bought him a glass of water that he sipped. He adjusted his microphone and put on his glasses while he looked over the papers on his desk. He was a mile away up on the bench and underneath the gigantic mural wall.
He greeted everyone and asked if we were ready to begin. He asked the defense attorney to call his first witness, and he called me. I stood and knew that every eye was cemented on my figure. The reporters would concentrate on every step and position. They would note my face, outfit, demeanor, and everything that I would say from here on in.
I mentally had my path planned since I was informed of testifying, and I walked it. When the carpet ended, my shoes sent echoes over the cavernous walls. I just felt wrong, but there was no way to get around anything at this point. I walked up to the witness stand and was sworn in. The defense attorney walked around his table and stood at the end of the jury box. I looked over the jury members and watched them mark their notebooks with my name and heading.
The defense attorney started his questions.
“Why did you decide to testify in this case?” he asked. This was a loaded question.
“I wanted to tell my side of the story.”
“Okay. When did you meet Bryan and Julia?”
I went over the beginning that sounded much like the beginning from the other witnesses. I tried not to stammer or fidget, but I knew it wasn’t working. As we neared the point of conflict, it became worse. This was the chance I would have to finally air everything without any interruptions or odd circumstances. The truth could finally be stated.
I started in on the night of the accident. I recounted the story of the boy getting hit and noticed some of the audience were choked up. The judge, lawyers and jury were listening.
I recounted Bryan’s slide down hill, telling about the conflict between him and Julia. In a way, neither side really was perfect. They both contributed to the demise of their marriage and their personal relationship. It was understandable why both sides would want the story told in many ways. Each person had their own spin on the players and how they affected everything that happened.
It finally came time to discuss the night of Bryan’s death. The defense att
orney asked me directly what happened that night, and I partly felt that Julia had an inside track. She knew that I would be the one to press. After all the time difference, I could still play out every second of that night in my head. It was the moment to put up or go home. I decided on the answer and went forward.
Calmly and slowly, I talked about Shawn, Drew and me going into Bryan’s and what we saw in the basement. The prosecutors objected, but the judge accepted the defense attorney’s justification and let me continue. He knew that each story was important, and I would be the first one to go over the details of that night.
I continued with the conflict and made one simple change. I put Shawn in my place.
The audience erupted, and the judge slammed his gavel on the oak desk. The pounding finally silenced the crowd. The defense attorney asked me if I was sure of everything, and I replied yes. Shawn did not move from his seat. Erica was crying. Val would not look at me. Our attorney asked for a recess before he could cross-examine me, and the judge granted it. The reporters ran outside to use their cell phones. I made my way back to my seat and planted myself there.
Chapter Sixty
That Night
Val and I drove home from the courthouse, and when we turned onto our drive, saw that our house was mobbed with media again. We backed out. I drove towards our old home and to a café we would sit in on weekends as kids in high school. Surprisingly, it was still a 24-hour place, and a handful of cars were in the parking lot. We walked in, sat ourselves and ordered coffee.