by R. D. Power
Robert declared, “You didn’t need to see it, you stupid bastard. Just think about it. How could anyone trap a ball that’s going away from him?” They found his line of reasoning unflattering, determined that their authority extended to overthrowing the laws of physics, and threw him out of the tournament. That ended his team’s prospects, his Little League baseball career, and his hopes of getting seen by a scout.
Chapter Seventeen
Trial
The Friday before Labor Day, the trial commenced. Of course, the major bone of contention was the empty video tape that supposedly proved indubitably his guilt. His defense attorney focused on it for the early part of the trial in a perfunctory way. He never got to the bottom of it, leaving the jury with the impression that it was probably an honest mistake because Robert’s fingerprints were on the jewels and cocaine packet, and there were witnesses to the original videotape: one, an honest, if obtuse, cop who had the wool pulled over his eyes; the other an ex-girlfriend. The cop testified as to what he saw on the tape and what he found in the defendant’s pocket. That ended the first day in court. The trial would resume in five days.
Seeing the handwriting on the wall, Robert again called the acquaintance about the bank job, and again he came over with the computer. Robert had told him last time that he couldn’t do it. This time he told him he thought he figured out how it could be done. He intended to steal as much as he could. If the fuckers are going to put me in jail for something I didn’t do, by God I’m going to earn the time. When I get out, I’ll be a rich man, he convinced himself. For four days, he worked hard to figure out a way of transferring funds into his accounts that he set up so it couldn’t be traced back to him. He worked out the scheme and tested it on a small scale with a hundred dollars. The pilot worked. He waited a day to see if there was any notice taken of the security breach.
In the midst of all this, Kristen began university the day after Labor Day. With all the upheaval in her life, she decided to stay at home to begin university, taking medical sciences at Western.
The trial recommenced Wednesday with Dominic taking the stand. The handsome man made eyes at the female jurists and weaved an impressive string of compelling lies together that had several female jurists nodding their heads. He left directly after testifying, off to meet his new gal, but not before kissing Kristen in front of the defeated man. Judy, much amused at Robert’s predicament, left shortly thereafter. Physical evidence and motives were next considered. That ended day two.
With no sign that his withdrawal from the bank had been detected, Robert set up the real run. Just the push of a button and he’d be a millionaire. As his finger approached the mouse to push the button, he hesitated.
Just the push of a button and I’ll be a major criminal.
He decided to sleep on it.
Lying in bed, he remembered a key event from his childhood. He was six and had stolen a chocolate bar from a corner store. His mother, who caught him eating it, had been so saddened and disappointed in her son that she wouldn’t even talk to him, except to say, “Just wait till your father gets home!”
His father, irate that his son would stoop to such levels, spanked him. It was the one time he could recall his father hitting him. He made young Bobby return to the store with a written apology and payment from his piggy bank. He was grounded for a month. Never again would he do anything bad, he decided then. He couldn’t face that look in their eyes again.
He looked at the ceiling as he contemplated what he intended to do in the morning, and a tear fell from his eye. How ashamed my parents would be of me, he thought. He couldn’t go through with it the next morning, placing his hope on a change of fortune at the trial. Maybe Kristen would save the day.
Kristen had spent many a sleepless night leading up to the trial. A witness for the prosecution, she wasn’t permitted to see Robert during the summer and had no desire to through June and July. As the summer wore on, though, her wrath and anguish ebbed, and her love for him roused from its coma. Through loving eyes, his innocence seemed obvious.
He’s too smart to steal in that circumstance, and he would never have anything to do with drugs.
Her sole cause for misgivings was the videotape; she saw what she saw on it. When it turned out the one held by the police was blank, however, she became convinced she’d been fooled. It was just too suspicious. She thought again about the cop just happening to be there. That now seemed like an unlikely coincidence to her. The suggestion that he was responsible for the graffiti was dubious, since it showed some evidence of artistic talent, of which Robert possessed none.
By the time she was to testify, she believed he’d been framed. But what was she to do? Lie on the stand? That would go against everything the Taylors believed in. Truth and justice were inseparable concepts to the Taylor family, though enough of Robert’s cynicism had rubbed off on Kristen that she had her doubts. She raised her concerns with her father, but it was black and white to him: simply tell the truth. Lying on the stand was out of the question. That would be both immoral and illegal.
So Kristen stated through a curtain of tears what she saw, hoping that the truth would somehow lead to justice. She kept glancing at Robert and, if he was looking at her, would whisper, “I’m sorry.” She tried to say he was incapable of this, but was cut off by the prosecutor. In response to the prosecutor’s opening question about what she had seen on the video, she began with a shaky voice, “On the video, Bobby … um … Mr. Owens was looking at the necklaces … I’m sorry.”
“Take a minute to calm yourself, Miss Taylor,” suggested the judge.
“I don’t think he would—”
“Miss Taylor,” interrupted the prosecutor, “Please keep to the facts alone.”
“Um, there were four necklaces before he passed in front of them … I’m sorry … then there were three,” she said as a tear fell to her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she again whispered across the courtroom to the accused. He looked at her with disgust. She felt sick.
“Did you conclude then that Mr. Owens had taken the necklace?” said the prosecutor. Kristen, looking at Robert, hesitated. He returned a solemn stare, begging her not to betray him.
“Miss Taylor, answer the question,” directed the judge.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again to the accused. She looked down and answered, “Yes.” Her eyes darted from the floor to his dejected face then back down.
“And tell the jury what you saw Mr. Owens take from his pocket.”
“Um,” Kristen said, still looking at the floor and shaking all over, “the … the necklace.”
“And what else?” She looked at Robert again. He, too, was looking down.
“Miss Taylor, calm yourself and answer the question,” instructed the judge.
“A bag of white powder, but he would never—”
“Miss Taylor, just answer the question and stay away from speculation please,” warned the prosecutor.
But she just had to get this point in regardless of what the prosecutor and judge thought. “He would never take drugs!”
“Miss Taylor!” reprimanded the prosecutor.
“Miss Taylor,” admonished the judge. “Keep this up and I’ll hold you in contempt.” She kept looking at Robert until he eventually returned a glance. Hoping for forgiveness, Kristen saw only acrimony in his eyes, which started her sobbing.
“Please relax,” the prosecutor told Kristen. “Only one more question, Miss Taylor. You told us that Mr. Owens has a history of thievery.” She glanced at Robert, who reacted with shock. He closed his eyes, issued a plaintive sigh, and slowly lowered his head. In his mind, her betrayal was complete. Knowing what he must be thinking, she, too, lowered her head and put her hands over her face. Her whole body trembled with grief.
Everyone observing the wretched girl pitied her. She had her mother, father, brother, Kim, many observers, and half the jury in tears. Ironically, her deportment proved disastrous for the defendant. How could a woman who obviousl
y loves a man so much lie to frame him? She couldn’t, so he must have done what she said he did. Thus reasoned the twelve people on the jury as they observed Kristen.
“Objection, Your Honor,” interrupted the defense lawyer. “My client has never been convicted of anything.”
“Overruled. I’ll allow the question,” decided the judge.
“Miss Taylor, you told us you found Mr. Owens in possession of a stolen stereo and a stolen bike.”
Her mother was surprised at this news and became convinced of his guilt of the current charges.
“Yes, but he returned—”
“Miss Taylor, just answer the question. Let the record show the witness answered in the affirmative. No further questions of this witness, Your Honor,” concluded the prosecutor.
“Does the defense have any questions?” the judge asked the defender.
“Just one, Your Honor. Miss Taylor, is it possible that your testimony against the defendant is colored by your anger against him for cheating on you?”
“No! I could never do that to him. I only answered the questions truthfully. You know that, don’t you? Bobby?” He looked away, and her crying resumed. The defense lawyer tried to question her honesty again, but Kristen’s emotional insistence that she was incapable of lying to ruin him made it clear the defense strategy had backfired. The prosecutor, sensing this, didn’t object. Robert’s lawyer took his seat, told himself the case was lost, and worried about his reputation.
“That completes the witness list,” announced the judge.
“No!” shouted the defendant. “Your Honor, this blockhead isn’t taking my defense seriously! There’s been no serious cross-examination about what happened to the tape. Was it erased or did Solano’s henchmen give them a blank one, knowing that the tape they showed to these idiots couldn’t withstand scrutiny? Either the officer and the defender are in on it or they’re fools.”
“Mr. Owens,” boomed the judge, sensitive to the slightest drop of discourtesy, though not to the greatest wave of injustice, “keep quiet. How dare you accuse our police and justice system of vice or incompetence. You are the one on trial here,” he said. “The court has considered the tape. The jury knows about it and will weigh it in making their decisions. The witness is excused.” Kristen knew she had damned him and wept so hard she had to be helped from the stand.
“Your Honor, please listen,” Robert pleaded. “He hasn’t even called Judy Gilmour to the stand. She’s the one who called me and told me Miss Taylor wanted to see me. She drove me to Solano’s house. I’m sure she’s the one who planted the—”
“Mr. Owens, silence! It’s your attorney’s responsibility to mount your defense. If he hasn’t raised it, he must not consider it compelling or credible.”
“She had a good alibi,” explained the defense attorney to Robert who shook his head in disgust.
Kristen was shocked at his revelation. If true, it had so many nasty implications. Why would she do it? What would she have to gain? Oh, no, Kristen said to herself, concluding the obvious. It’s the only way it all makes sense. Judy loves Dominic!
Both prosecution and defense rested. Final arguments were to be presented the next morning. Robert went home determined to push the mouse button to effect the transfer of funds. Standing at the computer, he put his finger on the button. Again he held back. There was a good chance Kristen had mentioned it to the prosecutor. More importantly, his conscience was in revolt. I’ll sleep on it again, he thought.
That night he had the most realistic dream of his life. He was trying to push the button, but his mother, father and sister were holding his arm back.
“Bobby, this is wrong. Don’t do this!” begged his mother.
“If you do this, you are no longer my son!” roared his father.
“No, Bobby!” pleaded his sister.
“Everything will be all right in the end if you stay good,” promised his mother.
He awoke in a cold sweat. He went to the computer, erased all traces of his work and shut it off. In the morning, he called his acquaintance and told him it couldn’t be done, that the security system was much better than he’d thought.
•
Closing arguments were a formality. The defense’s final declaration was unconvincing: “Ladies and gentlemen, does this look like a drug addict to you? I think not. The blank tape should raise alarm bells about the credibility of the entire case presented by the prosecution. They dismissed it as an accident, but at the very minimum, it raises reasonable doubt about my client’s guilt. I ask you to keep in mind that the accused has no criminal record in spite of having a very hard life after his parents died.”
The prosecutor began his summary by calling the case open and shut.
“Yeah, opened and shut in a blink because you didn’t want the jury to see it was empty,” quipped Robert.
“Order in my court,” rebuked the judge. “Keep your comments to yourself. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”
The prosecutor continued with his summary, highlighting the damaging evidence against the accused, noting in particular “the heartfelt testimony of the woman who dearly loved him.” He concluded, “The accused bore a grudge against the victim. He loved Miss Taylor and wanted revenge against the man who won her hand. He was destitute and needed money. The motives were clear. He had the opportunity, and he took advantage of it as our witnesses testified. He was found in possession of cocaine, which is also a felony. ‘I was framed,’ is the cry of nearly every criminal that passes through this august chamber. Do not fall for it, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Teach this young man and others like him a lesson that he can’t get away with these crimes.”
The judge instructed the jury to leave and deliberate.
Now the ex could be supposed to hold a grudge and lie about him, but her continual bouts with tears showed a fervid love for the accused. No woman would lie to send a man she still loved to jail. And he must be a fiend to have so grieved such a precious young creature. This was the deliberation the jury held among themselves for a good five minutes before concluding that he was as guilty as the devil.
The court reconvened to hear the verdict. The accused was instructed to stand as the foreman read the verdict. On the charge of grand theft: “Guilty.” On the charge of drug possession: “Guilty.” Though he expected the verdict, when it came, he sank to his seat in disbelief. Kristen went cold with the news; she sat there in a daze. Kim started to cry.
Robert lashed out at Kristen as her mother led her away. “You betrayed me!” he hollered. “You were in on it with him, weren’t you? You and Judy. You all set me up. The day I met you was the worst day in my life! I’ll hate you till the day I die!”
“No, Bobby, please don’t hate me!” Kristen wailed. “I only told the truth. I didn’t set you up, please believe me! I didn’t know about Judy.” She ran to him to beg his understanding, but he pushed her away. “Please forgive me. I love you!” she said as she again approached him.
“This is what you do to the person you love? Get out of my life!” She was certain he was going to strike her, so fierce were his eyes. Seeing nothing but hatred and anger there, she meekly awaited the blow, willing to play the martyr to assuage her guilt, the guilt of a woman who had told a truth that had condemned the man she loved.
He didn’t hit her; he couldn’t, even in his rage, for despite all, he loved her. The rage buried it, but could not kill it. Love would rise again, but to what avail? With Bill interceding and the bailiffs applying handcuffs, Robert was restrained. Kristen flung herself at Robert again and held fast against his repulses.
“Let go of me!” the furious man screamed. “I’ll get you back for framing me!” he yelled, conscious that the threat was empty.
“No, I didn’t know anything about it,” she shrieked. “I could never do that to you. I love you.” Finally, her frightened mother forced the lachrymose girl to leave.
Before he was led away, Robert asked to speak to Bill. “You’
re a smart man. You must suspect something underhanded in all this. They set me up, and a good cop should be able to prove it without much trouble. I’m asking you to investigate this mess.”
“It’s not in my jurisdiction,” he replied coolly.
“I don’t give a shit about jurisdiction. I know you hate me, but you’re a fair man. Please check out Judy’s alibi. She’s the weak link. She must be doing this for Dominic. She must love him. This case affects your daughter and your son. I swear to God, if you don’t help me, I’ll take matters into my own hands when I get out, and your daughter may get caught up in the mess.”
“Don’t you threaten my daughter!”
“Solano will pay for this, and if his wife-to-be was in on it, so will she.”
Bill left without saying anything else. Robert was taken away. Sentencing would come presently.
•
“Hey Gertrude, they got another drug dealer off the streets,” observed Mr. Carlton. “I hope that scum rots in jail. Bring me a beer.”
•
At Kim’s, he’d left his trunk containing everything he owned: a few articles of clothing, his glove, and the disarrayed remnants of his dead family. He’d disposed of Kristen’s photo.
The anguish Robert suffered during those first days in jail was abysmal. It took a day or two for the magnitude of his downfall to sink in. He had lost Kristen forever to his arch nemesis. He’d lost his freedom. He’d lost his chance to go to university on a baseball scholarship, and he knew the Twins would never be interested in him now. A criminal record meant no future chance at a scholarship or any good job. Everything was gone. He had even shamed the family name. His son would grow up ashamed of his own father.
“Mom, why didn’t you make me go with you?” he cried into his pillow.