In Defense of Guilt

by Benjamin Berkley

  “No,” she said, flatly. She continued to stare into space.

  Dennis was flummoxed. It wasn’t like her to lie, and there didn’t seem to be enough time for it to be done, but her hair was undoubtedly coiffed. It hadn’t been like that fifteen minutes ago. Okay, I get it, he thought. Constance was making jest, poking fun at him because it was all too obvious. All kids do that.

  “Are you looking for your mother?”

  “No.”

  In actuality, Dennis had been growing tired of sharing a house with two of the opposite sex. Lauren was a loaded cannon, and Constance was becoming too much like her for his taste. Two Lauren Hills under one roof? Uh-uh. No way. He would go insane. Lauren was a lost cause, but his beloved daughter? Exasperated with her flippant, one-word answers, Dennis rephrased. “Then who are you looking for?”

  God was nowhere to be found. Giving up the search, Constance approached her father. “No one. Nervous, that’s all.”

  “Oh, I see,” Dennis said, lowering his head. “I’ll just have to file this one under teenage, ‘I’ve got a secret.’”

  “No, Dad.” A constrained laugh. Constance sat down next to her father and placed a hand on his. Something was indeed on her mind. “Dad?”

  “Yes,” he said, putting his arm around her.

  “I was wondering,” she began. “How come we never go to church?”

  Surprised by not only the randomness but also the general uncomfortableness of the subject matter, Dennis sat back, eyes widening. He turned from his daughter, hand resting under his chin in seemingly deep contemplation.

  Dennis was at a loss for a true, meaningful explanation. Initially, plenty of excuses came to mind, but as he gave them careful consideration, he found all his answers seemed lame at best. Sure, Dennis sometimes wrote late into the wee hours of the morning, especially on weekends, but that was only because Lauren did not want to have close contact or be bothered by him. He had long since given up trying to getting close to her. He merely busied himself to save face.

  Dennis thought about giving Constance the standard, almost cliché excuse that busy lives simply got in the way of meaningful worship. Only that was the farthest from the truth. Alone, Dennis would sometimes halfheartedly pray to a God who didn’t seem to listen—at least not to him. He would start and then drift off, thinking himself unworthy to address a sovereign God. Lauren made him feel worthless, not only as a husband but as a man. He didn’t deserve a Savior. What was the point of getting up early on a Sunday morning to attend a service when his wife couldn’t be bothered going with him to church or anywhere else?

  Dennis might have written several unpublished novels, but he wasn’t good at lying. Besides, he knew his intuitive daughter was much smarter than that. Constance would be able to see right through any lie or misrepresentation. Anyway, she deserved the truth. As much as it could sometimes be inconvenient, the truth was always the best way. It saved having to cover up the initial lie with even more lies at some later point in time.

  Yes, the truth was he could have adjusted his writing schedule to different, more appropriate times of the day. He was alone in the household much of the day. And besides, it was not as if he were a bestselling author.

  After a moment of awkward silence and coming up empty as to why he had never made an effort to take his family, he felt guilty.

  “If I had early on, maybe things would have turned out differently.” Finally, he turned to his daughter. “I don’t know, actually. We just never have. Why?”

  Constance rubbed her father’s hand. “I think maybe it’s a good time to start.”

  He couldn’t have agreed more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Maze, Lauren, and Ryan were still in the restroom. Client and counsel exchanged hard glances. Of all the times Maze could have chosen to pull a crazy stunt, this had to be the worst. Flat out, Lauren did not feel sorry for him. If Maze was going to walk through the remainder of his life with a gaping hole in his head, so be it. That was his own stupidity. Since she was in charge, there would be no hospital visit. Hope he never needs glasses, she scoffed inwardly.

  Ryan was dutifully applying medical tape to the gauze wrapping around Maze’s head to hold his hurried work in place. All in all, it wasn’t that bad of a job. At least it was fully covered.

  Maze still held the dying tissue of his ear in his hand, a macabre souvenir he couldn’t seem to part with. He flipped it up and down, nervously playing with it. Of course, Ryan still adamantly believed they needed to get Maze to a hospital, but Lauren was not budging. He turned to her. She seemed a million miles away, deep in thought. The latest developments had certainly caused distress; however, this was a time for action.

  For the first time in her career, Lauren was in the unenviable position of needing to be in two places at once. After what had happened in court the previous two days, she wasn’t about to postpone the verdict. What would she tell Her Honor, that her client was in surgery getting his ear reattached after self-mutilation? That would go over like a loud fart in a crowded elevator. Bandages could be explained away: a fall, a nasty cut. No one was going to unwrap it and check until after the verdict was given. Something had to be sacrificed. She decided that sacrificial lamb was going to be Maze.

  A dark, rather noticeable red spot was growing on the side of Maze’s head. Not good. Needing to be in court in—thank you very much, Lady Rolex—exactly forty-two minutes didn’t grant Lauren nearly enough time to collect her thoughts. What she wouldn’t have given for the jury not to have reached a verdict until morning or, better yet, that God would intervene and slow time to a crawl and allow her to recalculate the best course of action? Yeah, that’d be great. Silence greeted her question. Still, Lauren knew without a doubt He had heard her plea. She felt it. Only God, in His infinite wisdom, chose to watch from a distance. He wants to make me squirm, she thought. In the deafening quiet, she assumed she had her answer. She was seemingly on her own.

  “There we go,” Ryan said, standing back to admire his finished masterpiece. “Not too bad,” he tried to convince himself.

  “Okay, okay. We have to talk.” Lauren started. “Wait. Never mind. Just stay put,” she gestured with her hands to Maze. “Stay right where you are while Ryan and I figure out a game plan.”

  Maze winced but nodded.

  Lauren gestured for Ryan to come with her with an abrupt nod of the head, and the two of them briskly headed out. As they made their way to the exit, God entered. He did not open the door but simply walked through it. Ryan saw nothing and continued walking. She stopped and turned, about to address the Lord as He brushed by her, but He never made eye contact. Without even the slightest acknowledgment of her presence, He continued on. In fact, she had to take evasive action, or He would have walked through her, as well.

  Ryan turned toward Lauren and, seeing her concerned expression, asked if she were okay.

  “Yeah, what could possibly be wrong?” she answered sarcastically. Lauren turned behind her to see a flash of intense, white light. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  Ryan held the door open to Lauren’s office and waited for his employer to enter. Constance stood, and Lauren rushed in to hug her. It pleased Dennis to see the exchange of affection between the two women in his family, even if only temporary. The tension between mother and daughter, as of late, had been more than he could bear. For him, this was a momentous occasion. It meant there was still a glimmer of hope.

  Glancing at her watch, Lauren got right to the point.

  “Listen, sweetie, Ryan and I need to strategize our next move. If you would like to see the verdict—”

  “Awesome!” Constance was beaming.

  “Wonderful!” Lauren beamed back. “Then you and Dad need to go down to the courtroom. I’ll see you there, shortly,” Lauren said, looking down at Dennis.

  “Okay, Mom!”

  Dennis stood, preparing to leave. Gloom came over him, although he produced a forced smile. Lauren hadn’t even spoken to him. I
nstead, she quickly kissed her daughter, ushered her family out, and hastily closed the door behind her. At least she had mended her relationship with their daughter. That was at least some consolation.

  As soon as he heard the latch click into place, Ryan spoke. “What the hell are we gonna do?”

  “The bandage?”

  Ryan gave her that don’t-play-games-with-me expression. “The confession, Lauren! Didn’t you hear what that idiot said, back there?”

  Lauren went purposely to her desk. She may have looked collected on the outside, but inwardly she was a bundle of nerves wrapped tightly inside a constricting straitjacket. She hadn’t smoked in weeks. In fact, she had thought she had kicked the habit. However, the present situation was more than she could handle alone. She needed help. She needed that nicotine calm. Fingers trembling, she fished around for the half-pack of Marlboro Lights she had casually tossed into the top drawer, along with one of those cheap Bic lighters. She recalled tucking it inside the foil wrapping. At least that’s where she remembered putting them.

  Lauren had briefly thought about throwing them away, but something had told her not to. She had thought there might come a day like the one she was having now, when she would need a smoke.

  Her memory served her well. She pulled out a cigarette, clenched it between her lips, and almost lit the end. Filter end. Damn! She turned it around, shaking her head, and lit the tip. Smoke curled its way upward toward the ceiling as she took a long, calming drag. Lauren held it in her lungs, then blew out a large puff of smoke. Instantly, she felt the desired effect. Her hands ceased shaking, and she could think more rationally. Amazing how that worked.

  Ryan watched her every move. Lauren looked at Ryan, blowing out a cloud of smoke. Finally—

  “Nothing,” she said, tossing the lighter back inside the drawer and shutting it. “We say nothing about Maze’s admission. Attorney-client privilege. The prosecution needed to makes its case; we don’t do that for them.”

  Flabbergasted, Ryan grabbed a large portion of his own, thick, black hair with both hands. They were in the presence of a murderer with just minutes to right a possibly wrong decision by a jury.

  “That’s it? Nothing? We say nothing,” he fumed.

  “Nope, we do nothing. Nothing at all. There’s nothing to do. At this point, it would be unethical for us to betray Maze’s right to an impartial trial by jury.”

  Lauren put the cigarette to her lips and drew inward. The tip glowed, yellow and hotter blue closer to where tobacco met flame. Ryan watched the smoke stream in disbelief. She exhaled a thick, gray cloud of smoke. She coughed.

  “The best thing, the only thing we can do is remove ourselves. Besides, we don’t know if Maze was confused, delirious, or what when he confessed. Given the circumstances, all that blood, he was likely not in the right frame of mind at the time.” Lauren took another puff, feeling the tingling effect against her tongue. “Besides, it’s far too late for that. The jury has already come to a verdict.”

  Seeing it all going horribly wrong, Ryan said, “Yeah, but what if it’s the wrong one?”

  “Everyday occurrence,” she said, nonchalantly. “Happens all the time in this business.”

  “You’re just thinking about the streak, your perfect record.”

  “No, I’m not!” Lauren snapped. She took another drag of her cigarette. She knew her words didn’t come out forceful enough to sound convincing. Her expression and mannerisms also conveyed a different story.

  “Yes. You are.”

  “If I am, it’s only a little. But it’s no longer in our hands to decide. They’re legally tied. Understand, overall it’s their verdict, their trial. Not ours.” She took a final, nervous drag, exhaled, and crushed the cigarette on the edge of the desk. “In the scheme of things, we’re just players in society’s proceedings.”

  Just then, the doors flew open. Triumphantly, Maze entered the office, a long trail of gauze and crimson bandages fluttering behind him. Ryan leaped to his feet in complete shock. It wasn’t what he saw, but what he didn’t see. No blood. No gaping hole. No severed tissue. Nothing! Maze was once again whole. His ear was intact, and exactly in the location it should have been. No hint of evidence to suggest Maze had ever butchered it.

  Pointing in disbelief, Ryan managed, “Oh, my gawd!”

  “Don’t say that!” Lauren snapped. Then, more subdued, she went on. “Not here. Not like that.”

  Staring intently at the impossibility of Maze’s restored ear, Ryan stuttered. “Why?”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in this office.”

  “Huh?” he thought, snapping out of it. Now, he wasn’t so sure the figure standing before him was in fact Maze, at all. He glanced at Lauren, then quickly back at Maze. “Since when did you get so religious?”

  “In all seriousness,” she replied, “about fifteen minutes ago.”

  Ryan barely heard Lauren’s peculiar, under-her-breath reply. He knew something had been uttered, but it was lost on him. He was more concerned about Maze. He inched his way closer and closer to him, half out of fear, half curiosity. Initially, fear was winning, but the more he believed the person standing in front of him was indeed the same man he left covered in bandages in the office restroom, the more curious he became. A forensic scientist he was not, but he was compelled to get a closer examination.

  “How in the . . . no blood . . . no sutures. Hell, there isn’t a hint of scarring! Even the stains on your clothes.” Ryan tugged on Maze’s jacket. “Explain this!”

  Maze thought Lauren knew who he had encountered in the other room, but he did not think Ryan would do well knowing the truth. Maze looked to Lauren for help. He didn’t know exactly how to explain his miraculous introduction to God. He simply looked at Ryan, curious and puzzled.

  Ryan reached up to take hold of Maze’s earlobe and tugged at it. “I can’t believe this. It’s impossible! I don’t understand,” he trailed off.

  “C’mon. We don’t have time for this.” Lauren broke in. “We have to go.”

  “Go?! Lauren, look at this!”

  “I see it.”

  “It’s a miracle.” Then, turning to Maze, she said, “How did you—?”

  Inside Maze, tension was building. Having his own worries, he looked as if he were about to rupture. “Am I guilty, now?” Maze blurted.

  “What do you mean?” Lauren asked, delighted the subject had finally changed.

  “I just confessed.”

  “Right,” she began, glancing at Ryan before continuing. “Well, not necessarily. No, no, you’re not guilty, yet. And the jury may not have found you guilty.”

  Maze’s anxiety was kicking in full force, and having no medicine to counteract the oncoming panic attack, he was losing confidence as well as hope. His breathing grew heavier, and he began to sweat. Lauren could see his face turning red before her eyes. “But I am guilty. You have to tell them I’m guilty, don’t you see? Isn’t that what you have to do, now tell them what you know?”

  “No. Pull yourself together. You don’t confess to me. I’m neither your priest nor pastor. I’m not your conscience. I am your counsel.”

  “Is it too late for me to confess?” Maze said excitably.

  Morally, it was a tough question for Lauren. She purposely scanned the top of her desk. Spotting the printout of Proverbs 6:16, she picked it up. She knew exactly what the morally correct thing to do was. For the sake of justice, Amanda Maze, and possibly her own sanity, she needed to reveal the truth. If anything, Maze’s in-laws deserved closure. Her family certainly deserved to know their loved one hadn’t figuratively as well as literally gone off the deep end and plunged herself into oblivion. However, she knew there was a good possibility she had beaten Bradley. Finally honest, but only with herself, Lauren admitted she did not want to lose the case due to an eleventh hour and fifty-eighth minute, half-assed confession.

  “What do you counsel, counselor?” Maze pressed.

  Lauren’s hand gently brushed
against the words on the page. Her index finger glided across each of the Deadly Sins, one-by-one until coming to the word pride. Lauren focused on the bold, black letters. As she stared, the word seemed to burn across her retinas. Her finger involuntarily tapped the paper. She hoped she wouldn’t regret it, but finally—

  “It’s up to your conscience.”

  Ryan was inwardly furious. Did he hear correctly? Did Lauren just leave it up to Maze to reveal the truth? Did she think her client was going to confess? That’s it! he thought. She isn’t in her right mind.

  Lauren hadn’t actually pressured Maze into keeping his mouth shut, but she might as well have. It wasn’t what Ryan wanted to hear, but unless he was prepared to reveal what he knew and risk his career, which he wasn’t, then it truly was out of his hands.

  “If I don’t confess—”

  “Before the jury renders its verdict,” Lauren interrupted.

  “Yeah, before the verdict. You’re saying I might walk?”

  “Yes, you might walk.”

  Having had his own miraculous experience with the Almighty caused Maze to reevaluate his life and, more specifically, to dwell on what he had done. However, the thought of still being able to walk after confessing to two individuals, that is, as long as he sat quietly and kept his big mouth shut for once, appealed to him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Stick by me and say nothing,” Lauren instructed Maze as they pulled up to the steps leading to the Los Angeles Courthouse.

  Night had fallen upon the City of Angels more than two and a half hours earlier; however, it was as bright as if the sun had never set. The sidewalk and much of the steps were illuminated by high-powered lights from various news crews. Lacking only the red carpet, it seemed as if they were at the Oscars. Even though it was a few ticks away from eight thirty, the place was bustling with the usual suspects eagerly waiting for the jury’s verdict.

  Ryan slowed the car and maneuvered into the designated parking space. Before they came to a complete stop, swarms of reporters rushed the vehicle, thrusting microphones toward the passenger window and shouting a bevy of standard questions before the door even opened.