Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (21 page)

“Madame Clerk, will you swear in the jury?”

The clerk’s desk plate read: Grace Anne Fairfield. She didn’t look familiar, and I questioned where she was from. Blonde, wavy hair, gray eyes and slender figure, she was beautiful, but she was no Claire.

I gulped hard and looked at the threads in my dress pants; these were thoughts my brother Chase would have. He was the mindful one, always worried if his girl was comfortable or needed anything.

“Will the jury please stand and raise your right hand.”

Grace Anne raised her own hand, in example, standing still as a statue in her dark skirt and heels. Every member of the jury followed her lead and looked her in the eye as she recited her scripted verse. A guy on the end, a middle-aged fella, looked to be mesmerized by her ample tits as he quit reciting the words after he noticed them.

“I do,” they announced in unison, all except for the pervert on the end.

“You may be seated,” she directed, and then crossed those fuck worthy legs, as she took her position to the left of Judge Randolph.

“The People may proceed.”

Jessup rose and adjusted his clothing as he rounded the desk. This case should be a walk in the park for him. With a cop for an eye witness and the DNA an almost perfect match, we were looking at a grand slam.

“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: the defendant has been charged with the crimes of assault and attempted rape. During this trial, the people will present undeniable evidence against the defendant. We have the testimony of an eyewitness, who is an upstanding citizen and, may I add, a servant of the county. There will be forensic evidence presented that places the defendant at the scene of the crime. In conclusion, the people ask that you provide the court your undivided attention to the facts presented, which will yield a verdict of guilty as charged.”

Jessup thanked the jury and tapped the desk of Ms. Grace. She followed his retreat as he sat back in the chair, his cavalier attitude getting her attention, much to the dismay of juror number seven.

“Councilor?” Randolph gave his permission for Anderson to take his turn. He was cautious this time, taking an extra second to straighten his jacket and groomed his poor excuse for hair.

“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: under the law, my client is presumed innocent until proven guilty. During this trial, you will hear no
real
conclusive evidence presented against my client. You will come to know the truth, that the eyewitness did not have the best view of the alleged attack. Therefore, my client is not guilty.”

Corbin Anderson was one of the stupidest men I had ever met. He knew damn good and well his client had a one-way ticket to prison. For all his shit talk, he avoided looking in my direction as he returned to his seat.

“The prosecution may call its first witness.”

Jessup stood as he addressed the court. “The people call, Detective Dylan Morgan.”

I’d testified hundreds of times, even been grilled like a motherfucker by my dad a couple of times, so this was old hat for me. Grace instructed me to raise my hand and swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. After I swore to do so, she had me take my seat in the witness stand.

“Detective Morgan, can you tell the court where you were on the evening of April seventeenth?”

Just as my dad had instructed all those other times, I told my story exactly as I recalled it. I refrained from adding my opinion or personal attitudes about the case. As I started to explain about getting into the ambulance, I looked in Claire’s direction. Her face was so beautiful; I nearly forgot my place in the story. Her hand was gripped firmly in Lainie’s, a true friend showing her support. My momma would call her a quiet spirit, a gentle soul. I had other labels in mind.

“Councilor, your witness.”

“Detective Morgan, you stated you had been in a meeting with your family’s attorney earlier that day, am I correct?” Anderson stood against his desk, arms crossed with a sour, quizzical expression.

“Yes.”

“And what happened during that visit?” Anderson questioned.

“Objection.”

“Your Honor, I’m only trying to establish the mindset the Detective was in as he approached my client,” Anderson pleaded. The room sat in silence waiting for the direction of the judge.

“I’ll allow it, but Councilor; make your point, quickly.”

“Thank you, your Honor.” He turned back in my direction. “Detective, please answer the question.”

“My granddaddy’s will was being read.”

His smile resembled that of a man with a secret; one, which would dispute the sky, was blue. “Did you go from the reading to walking down the street?” He leaned over the edge of the wooden rail, his eyes glimmering with deceit and mischief. “Or was there a stop along the way?”

I hadn’t mentioned in any of my statements that I’d shared a bottle of Hennessey with my brothers. I didn’t think it was relevant since it was in the same building. I glanced at my dad, but his face gave away nothing, “Remember, Detective, you are still under oath.”

“I met with a family member to discuss the results of the reading.” I growled at him, sending a message to the slimy prick. What the fuck was he up to?

“Where was this meeting? A city tavern…”

“Objection, your Honor. Detective Morgan isn’t the one on trial here.”

“Sustained,” Judge Randolph agreed. “Councilor, I warned you once.”

“I apologize, your Honor.” His voice sounded like one of a petulant child, scolded for eating too much candy.

“Detective, it has been your testimony and sworn statement that you heard voices and responded to what you assumed was an attack.” His right hand was on his hip, while the left twirled the silver pen he held. “It was dark in that breezeway when you arrived, correct?”

I waited in silence, another lesson my dad gave me. My posture remained relaxed, yet not sloppy. “Detective?” Anderson poked. “I said it was dark, correct?” Anger and frustration began to show around the edges of his statement.

“Your Honor, will you instruct the Detective to answer my question?” He was just like that little kid who wanted another slice of cake—I waited for him to hold his breath and turn blue.

“Try asking him one, Councilor.” Judge Randolph’s bored voice responded. I wanted to laugh, but I knew my dad would have taken me behind the woodshed for being disrespectful, regardless of my age or ability to out man him.

His lack of question did receive a chuckle from the members of the jury, which served to frustrate him more.

“Detective Morgan, when you approached the area where you assumed the screaming was coming from, the area was dark, was it not?”

I leaned over to speak into the microphone, wanting him to hear my response clear as day. “No.”

Anderson spun his head so fast his neck would surely hurt in a few minute. “Are you saying, under oath, there was light present in a breezeway, between two multi-story buildings, at an hour where the sun had set?”

“Yes.”

Racing back to his table, he pulled a manila file folder from the stack. “Your Honor, I’d like to present this photo marked B-nine as exhibit A.” He slid the photograph to the Judge, while his assistant handed a copy to Jessup. With a nod from Judge Randolph, the photo was passed to me.

“Detective, take a look at the photo.”

The picture he handed to me showed a view from the entrance to the area between the two buildings. I knew where he was going with this, trying to persuade the jury there was no way I could identify Frances Greyson in an area which held no exterior lighting. Jessup and I had taken a trip over there two nights ago, after I left the Emergency Room when Greyson was released back into the county’s custody.

“Would you like to change any part of your testimony?” Anderson was such a dumb motherfucker, that boy would rob a bank on a Federal holiday.

“No,” I responded flatly.

“No?” He tossed back. “When it’s clear there are no exterior lights in this area.” His fingers tapped the photo repeatedly, causing the paper to bow several times from the force.

“Now, I will ask you again, Sir. Do you want to change your testimony?” He slammed the photos down, his intent to startle me failing miserably.

“No.” My eyes never left his reddened face, as beads of sweat trickled down the sides. Black orbs replaced his usual dull eyes and his body shook with rage.

He pushed himself back from the edge, the photos remaining on the thin railing, and turned, taking slow steps until he was halfway back to his table. Frances Greyson carried a smirk; the fuck had been in this situation enough to know he should never place a bet in Anderson’s corner.

“Detective, are you familiar with the penalty for perjury?”

“Yes.” I looked in my dad’s direction; his head was shaking from side to side slightly. He knew exactly where this was headed.

“Dylan, give a man enough rope and chances are he will hang himself with it.”
Granddaddy used to tell us that when we were in any trouble. “
Might as well tell the truth from the very beginning.”
There were a few exceptions to the rule, telling your girl she looked good in anything was number one, the rest you made up as you went.

“Councilors, approach the bench,” Judge Randolph instructed. Jessup looked the part of confidence, where Anderson showed frustration and ambivalence. If body language could convey words, then Anderson would be screaming. In the end, he nodded his head and they both returned to their seats.

“Detective, can you share with the jury, how you feel you are not in contempt of court by not recanting your statement.”

I looked to Jessup, his ankle over his knee, arms folded with his fingers on his chin. When I saw no movement, I knew I was in the clear.

“Your Honor.” I chose to speak with a man whose intelligence was at least in triple digits. “If you look closely, you will see the photograph was taken in the middle of the day. A time where the sun would cast rays of light, causing the need for exterior lighting to be unnecessary.” Someone in the back of the room, and I didn’t look to see who, giggled.

“However, if you were to drop by this exact same location at about ten at night, you will find that the library…” I held my hand up as if showing the room where the library sat to the left of the other building. “…has rather large three panes of glass windows, which shine light down onto the area where the attack happened.”

“Now I’m not saying that you could do brain surgery by the light coming out of the windows.” I looked to the jury, a smile forming on my face. “But you’d have no trouble looking at a map, or seeing a man covering a woman with his body.”

I watched as several of the jurors nodded their heads. A few ladies looked at me like most women do when I flash a smile.

“No further questions, your Honor.”

“Your next witness.”

“Your Honor, the prosecution calls, Claire Stuart.”

Claire rose with poise and style. Her clothing was tasteful, a dark blue skirt and matching jacket. Her dark hair pulled up into one of those twists my momma wore on occasion. She had a simple cross dangling from a tiny chain resting in the hollow of her neck, no fancy diamonds or emeralds. I wondered if she preferred the simple things or if she hadn’t had anyone to show her how a man should treat his girl?

“Please repeat after me.” Grace raised her right hand and Claire followed with a soft smile on her face.

“I, state your full name, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

“I, Claire Faith Stuart…”

The room tipped and my breathing became labored as if I had run two marathons. My ears starting to ring, so much so I never got to hear the remainder of Claire’s sworn oath. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, trying its damnedest to fight its way out.

“Always have Faith, son. Hell, find yourself a girl named Faith, you can never go wrong.”
I twisted the bracelet, the light casting its reflection on the etched lettering. All these years I’d worn this, always concentrating on the action of possessing and keeping my faith, not trying to possess and keep
a
Faith. Now, I was realizing that Granddaddy didn’t really want me to find
a
girl, but
the
girl. A girl who, just like Claire, would test me, make me question everything I’d believed in… including, my faith.

“Son, you want to rein that in,” Dad commanded from my left in a quiet voice. “Or do we need to have a recess?” I shook my head, the bile in my throat burning like cheap whiskey. My anger diminishing rapidly.

“Miss Stuart, can you share with the court your qualifications which brought you here today?”

“I have a Bachelor of Science in Nursing from the University of Kentucky, with special emphasis on women’s studies, as well as a certification in emergency response for sexual trauma.”

Jessup leaned back against his desk, a glint in his voice, bordering on flirting. “Well, Miss Stuart, that sounds rather complicated for an old country boy such as myself. Could you explain that in terms the rest of us can understand?”

Claire tilted her head, her warm and glowing face could make even the meanest of hearts cower down and do as she asked.

“Of course, Sir.” Her voice, while not angelic, was pleasant and feminine. “I am a nurse who works in the Emergency Room and can provide assistance to women who have sought help in the Emergency Room. In the event they have suffered a trauma due to someone hurting them sexually, I have been trained how to collect the necessary evidence for the authorities, while helping the victim feel safe.”

“There you have it, words which even a small child could understand, spoken by a beautiful woman.” Jessup addressed the jury, as I felt my anger rising again. I wasn’t the only one not impressed with his candor; Anderson huffed under his breath as he took a look at his notes.

“According to your sworn testimony, you were working the night Mr. Greyson attacked a young lady…”

“Objection!” Anderson sprung to his feet as if his ass were on fire. “We have not established there was an…” The banging of a gavel silenced the room and, thankfully, Anderson.