by Derek Blass
Shaver wasn't aware that Mason knew this much. “We were both in it, so we...”
“Hold on, what do you mean both in it? At this point, you've testified that Officer Martinez was coming for you.”
“Tyler was wrapped up in something else, and we were both being hunted.”
“Do I assume correctly that whatever he was wrapped up in, that you're now using as an excuse for holding Mr. Smith hostage, you don't know what it was?”
“That's right, I don't know what he was doing.”
“By the way, where is Mr. Smith today?”
“He's dead.”
“You know how he died, right? Essentially run over by a SUV while in the middle of a police chase?”
“I knew that.”
“And you had nothing to do with that, right?”
“Objection!” Sphinx yelled. “That is an improper inference, Your Honor!”
“Sustained. You do not have to answer Sergeant Shaver,” Judge Melburn said.
Mason flipped a page in his binder and shook his head while doing so. “Let's turn to the day in question, the day with Mr. Rodriguez, okay?”
“Be happy to.”
“Did you pick Officers Martinez and Williams to be on your team?”
Shaver shot out a puff of air and answered, “No.”
“Someone from the department forced them on you?”
“Yeah, the Chief.”
“But they were just as competent as the rest of your team, right?”
“Competent at what?”
“Physical requirements...”
“Sure, Williams was a freakin' ape, a physical specimen. Didn't make him smart though.”
“So, Officer Williams, the African-American member of your team, you refer to as...”
“Look, why don't you save your breath and just say black? I'm white, he was black, Martinez is brown. All that other junk, not necessary.”
Sphinx stood up again and said, “Your Honor, we have been going for a few hours straight here, and lunch is impending. Can we take that break?”
“Your Honor! I'm in the middle of my cross-examination, at a critical juncture in the testimony. This is not an appropriate time to take a break,” Mason responded.
“I agree counsel, you may continue.”
“I will stick with my terminology, Sergeant Shaver, if you don't mind.” Shaver sneered at Mason and waited for the next question. “Let's cut to the chase here. You and Tomko breached the front of the house, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And the rest of the officers, along with the cameraman, breached the rear, correct?”
Shaver leaned closer to his microphone and slowly said, “Correct.”
Mason figured this was the time to spring the trap. Shaver was tired, testy and getting loose with his answers. “Is it your position that Officer Martinez killed Mr. Rodriguez?” Mason asked incredulously.
The grin on Shaver's face disappeared. He sat there, looking conflicted for a few seconds until he said, “That's right. Martinez shot him.”
“You claim that Officer Martinez shot Mr. Rodriguez, and yet he has never been the subject of an investigation into the matter, has he?!”
“He hasn't but...”
“And in all of your testimony today, you never once mentioned you were trying to apprehend Officer Martinez for supposedly killing Mr. Rodriguez, did you?!”
“I said that we were trying to get him when we flipped our car!”
“For his supposed involvement in the shooting of Officer Lindsey, Sergeant Shaver! Do you recall that? You never mentioned you were trying to arrest Officer Martinez for the death of Mr. Rodriguez!”
“Well, I guess I forgot...”
“Just like you forgot to tell us that you were holding Mr. Smith hostage, right?”
“I didn't forget to tell you shit. You're trying to spin this so you can get that smelly...”
“Your Honor!” Sphinx called out, trying to stop Shaver.
“...Martinez off the hook. I stood there, while that ass shot the old man, plain and simple.” Shaver pushed the microphone away from his mouth.
Mason glanced at the jurors, who were all glaring at Shaver. His work was done. “Those are all the questions I have.”
“The defense has no further questions either, Your Honor,” Sphinx added. Technically, Sphinx had the right to perform a re-direct of Shaver, but that could be suicide. Why give Shaver the opportunity to shoot himself in the other foot.
F O R T Y-S E V E N
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Tawny sat in the jury deliberation room with an empty paper cup in her hand. They had just finished eating the meager, court-provided lunch. No one said much since the attorneys finished their closing arguments and the judge read them their jury instructions. Tawny looked at the juror notebook in front of her, uncertain what she thought about the case.
“You know, that Sergeant was a real racist,” the insurance man said, breaking the silence.
Tawny agreed with his sentiment, but was surprised to hear it coming from him. Overall, she felt like she trusted that Officer Martinez, but Sergeant Shaver's attorney had definitely cast doubt on whether he did the right things.
“Like that attorney, Mr. Sphinx, said in his closing, if Officer Martinez was willing to break all these rules to get Sergeant Shaver, who knows if he's telling the truth?” asked Lucius, the engineer. “At the same time, my gut tells me that Sergeant Shaver did it. I don't see murder in that Officer Martinez's eyes. The other cop looked menacing and cold.”
“Let's look at these notebooks,” the jockey said, attempting to take control of the decision-making process. “They have our standards in there. Unfortunately, I don't think 'gut' qualifies, although I'd say my gut agrees with yours.” They all shuffled to find and open their notebooks, except for Tawny. Hers was already open and she was reviewing a page entitled “Burden of Proof.”
“It says in here that the State has the burden of proving beyond a reasonable doubt that Sergeant Shaver intended to kill Mr. Rodriguez, but did not plan to kill him,” Tawny said.
“Well, if what Officer Martinez said is true, that seems pretty clear-cut,” the jockey said.
“And reasonable doubt is what?”
“Turn to the next page,” Tawny answered. “Reasonable doubt is a fair, honest doubt based on the evidence produced at trial. Reasonable doubt must be based on reason and common sense, not on conjecture, speculation, possibilities or imaginary scenarios. We must be satisfied that no reasonable person would doubt that this person is guilty.”
“What happens if we got a reasonable doubt?” Dawn asked.
The jockey looked at her sideways, wondering if the question was for real. When he realized it was, he answered slowly, “Then we can't convict the policeman.”
“Oh.” Tawny looked around the room to get a hold of who these people were. So far she had met Dawn the entertainer, Lucius, the old man, the insurance man, the jockey and Rebecca. There were five other people though, and she thought they should all know each other.
“Before we move on, we don't all know each other. I know some of you, but not others,” she said, looking at a man in nice pants and a suit jacket. Another man sat next to him in athletic pants and a windbreaker. It seemed strange to Tawny, given that it was pretty hot outside.
“I'm Carlos,” the man in the suit jacket said. When Tawny kept looking at him expectantly, he said, “I own a small business.”
She looked at the man next to him. She had perfected this polite yet demanding stare with her students.
“Jeff. I'm a trainer.”
There were three women sitting on the other side of the jury room from Carlos and Chuck. Tawny noticed that they had already formed their own little clique. One of them said, “How about we just decide this? I don't think we need to be friends to do that.” The other two women giggled nervously when she said it.
“Fine, have it your way,” Tawny said.<
br />
“What do we look at first?” Carlos asked, perhaps trying to ease the tension.
“There isn't too much evidence,” Lucius said. “We've got testimony from three witnesses is all.”
“And it really comes down to two,” the jockey added. “I mean, the expert witness told us that it was either Sergeant Shaver or Officer Martinez, right?” Tawny and the others agreed. “He couldn't tell us which of their guns it was. So it boils down to the officers' testimony.”
“I liked Officer Martinez,” Dawn said.
“See, that's the type of emotion that shouldn't come into play,” the jockey said.
“Hold on a second,” Tawny started, “a big issue with Officer Martinez is going to be credibility. If he is credible, then we can believe his story. While Dawn didn't use that word, I think that's what she was saying, right Dawn?”
“Yeah, thanks,” she answered with a smile.
“I've got a big problem with the credibility of a police officer that is willing to break the rules,” the insurance man said. “Now, don't get me wrong, I thing the Sergeant is a snake. But, if Martinez was willing to arrest him without a warrant, who's to say that he wasn't arresting him just to cover his own ass?”
“Do you really believe that?” Lucius asked. “I can't believe that he would have gone to all that trouble to frame the Sergeant.”
“Oh come on!” the insurance man exclaimed. “If you kill someone, you don't think you'll go to the end of the world to cover it up?”
“Guess I've never thought about it like that. I believe in the inherent good quality of people, and Officer Martinez seemed to have that to me. He may have been caught up in a few technicalities, but that prosecutor showed us the Sergeant is a damn liar!”
“I believe that people are motivated by greed and self-interest, and I have a doubt whether Martinez wasn't just covering his ass!”
“Sometimes we project,” Lucius said coyly.
“Whatever, man. All I'm saying is that we have a standard here...reasonable doubt. I've got some damn doubts, okay? And they are based on the evidence given us. What about the whole gun thing too?”
“That was actually what seemed fishy to me,” the jockey said.
“I don't think it matters,” Rebecca piped up and said. “I'm sure Officer Martinez was in a haze, like he said. Just because Sergeant Shaver got his gun checked in that same day doesn't mean Officer Martinez was the shooter.”
Her words ended and then silence returned to the room. They all sat there, considering the options before them.
“One other thing. What motive would Officer Martinez have to shoot that man?” Lucius asked. “There was none that I could tell. So he would just have to be a cold-blooded killer? Killing for sport? I don't see that at all. On the other hand, it was pretty damn clear that Shaver didn't think much of us black or you brown folk,” Lucius said, looking at Carlos.
“But do you have a reasonable doubt based on the evidence we saw, that maybe, just maybe Martinez did shoot that man?” the jockey asked. “Even if it was just an accident.” Tawny squirmed in her seat. She was having trouble deciding this one as well. Lucius didn't answer the question.
* * * *
Cruz stood next to Mason and Todd, chatting with them about the case when the jurors started to come back into the courtroom.
“That was fast,” Todd said. “What the hell does that mean?” Cruz's shoulders dropped a little bit.
“Could be that it was so clear-cut they had to convict him,” Mason answered rather emptily. Judge Melburn returned to the courtroom with a big smile on his face.
“I am happy to see you have returned in a timely fashion,” the judge said. “Please, everyone in the gallery take your seats. Counsel, return to your tables.” He waited for people to stop their conversations. He displayed some modicum of patience as he felt ahead of the curve with the jury returning so quickly.
Cruz went back to his seat and Sandra grabbed his hand. She shot an anxious look at him. He squeezed her hand and said a quick Hail Mary in his head. He didn't know where it came from, and he forgot a couple of the words, but the uncontrollable nature of the whole event prompted the prayer. The jurors had taken their seats.
“Have you chosen a foreperson?” Judge Melburn asked.
“We have, judge,” the jockey said as he stood up. So it was the jockey, Cruz thought to himself. He had speculated the jockey was the one taking control all along. Cruz looked around for Martinez. He found him, standing by the courtroom doors.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?”
“We have judge,” the jockey said. One of the bailiffs approached the jockey and took the verdict form. He walked it over to the judge who opened the form and took a few moments to read it. Cruz put his hand on Mason's back. He tried to convey nothing but positive thoughts. He looked over at Shaver who still looked calm and disassociated. Sphinx was grinding a pen in his mouth.
“How do you find as to the charge of second degree murder?” the judge said. Chatter, movement, breathing in the crowded courtroom came to a screeching halt. People sat on the edge of their seats, digging their fingernails into the old wood and straining their ears to hear the verdict.
“Not guilty.” The two words fell like anvils. Cruz dropped his head and tears formed in his eyes. Sandra threw her arms around him and started to cry as well. Mason pounded his fists down on the table. The gallery erupted. Some people cheered, others screamed bloody murder. Lost in the mix of noise was Judge Melburn banging his gavel. Cruz looked over at Shaver through a veil of tears and the man was the same, emotionless. A remote, heartless human being, stranded on his own island of hate.
The crowd outside could sense that something had happened. Sandra openly took her cell phone out and texted Andre the news. Moments later the crowd erupted. Cruz went to the back window as the crowd outside revolted in waves extending away from the courthouse. Sirens immediately began to sound. Men screamed into bullhorns. The lines of national guardsmen on the steps of the courthouse braced for the worst. Cruz turned around to see that the judge was gone. Shaver and Sphinx were gone too. He pushed through he people that had gathered behind him and ran out of the courtroom. Sandra saw him moving and tried to keep up.
Cruz caught a glimpse of Shaver's back just as he turned for the front doors of the courthouse. He sprinted to catch up, not sure what he would do if he caught up, but sprinting nonetheless. He slid around the corner and then jetted to the front doors. Shaver and Sphinx were already outside. He barreled through the doors and was momentarily stunned by the sun. That's when he heard a crack. His shoulder suddenly burned hot. He grabbed at his shoulder and came away with a hand of blood.
“What the...” But before he could get the sentence out, two more cracks sounded. Cruz fell to the ground. His shoulder was howling in pain. He felt weak and heard thumping sounds as police shot canisters of tear gas into the crowd, which had gone mad like a disturbed anthill. Sandra fell on top of him and whispered to him, “Cruz, are you okay?” He felt everything start to go black around him. His head fell to the side, the sharp edge of a stair pressing into his temple. That's when he saw Shaver sprawled out on the steps. A line of scarlet blood was streaming down from where Shaver rested. Sphinx was off to the side, crouched behind one of the columns supporting the courthouse. Cruz fought off the darkness and strained to see beyond Shaver. There was a commotion down toward where he remembered the handicap area being. A man was fighting off several policemen as they picked him up out of his wheelchair. Sandra looked over to see what was going on, and when she saw who they had, she screamed, “Raul!!!!”
E P I L O G U E
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R E V E L A T I O N
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Sphinx rested with his head propped up on the palm of his left hand. He aimlessly stirred his coffee and watched steam rise from the cup into the air. “Appropriate metaphor for life...” he muttered.
> “What's that?”
Sphinx looked up at Cruz, mildly abashed after letting that thought escape his mind. “Oh, nothing. Where were we?”
Cruz shifted in his seat and leaned over toward Sphinx. “Look, I appreciate you invited me this time instead of kidnapping me, but stop wasting my damn time. I've been watching you ruminate over a cup of coffee, which is black as tar and yet you're stirring it as if it's loaded with cream and sugar. Cut the melodrama and get to the point.”
“You're right...but I need to give you some background first.”
Cruz sighed and crossed his arms. This was pure Sphinx—Spotlight Sphinx—Cruz thought to himself with a half-hearted chuckle. When Sphinx didn't start talking, Cruz gestured to him to go on.
“I was disconcerted by the trial and how it unfolded.”
“Your client's death too...?” Cruz said pointedly.
“Not so much.” Cruz quickly raised his eyebrows. “The trial, the trial, the trial. There was something wrong with it.”
“You mean the plain obviousness of it being fixed?”
“Fixed? That's more for horse races or boxing matches. It was...altered.”
“Semantics. I don't care what you call it, the judge's preclusion of that evidence was downright...hold on. Let me pry into the vortex that is Sphinx's mind. You're upset, aren't you? Personally upset, not about anything related to anyone else, such as your client.”
Sphinx raised the glass of hot coffee to his lips in a smooth swing of his arm. The dark liquid slightly burnt the roof of his mouth as it rolled into his throat. “I can neither confirm nor deny that emotion.”
“For fuck's sake, Sphinx. You're acting like a prima donna. This is all about you and how upset you are that you didn't win on the merits of your skill? I should have known.”
“Don't go that far.”
“Stop being such a kid. You had this nagging feeling that you won because of higher forces, assuming there could be a higher force than the Sphinx. So, did you invite me here to shed some tears and get this out? You know I'm not your friend, right?”