Missing

What's the verdict? Hang around and find out.

Kurt Maine sat in the stately old courthouse tapping his pen on his yellow legal pad in silent resignation. He was annoyed and dejected; his client Mark Garrett was heading for a conviction and there was nothing he could do about it. Though there was no body, the prosecuting attorney, Drew Ammerman, was cleaning Kurt's clock. CSU’s, blood splatter experts, DNA reports … the list seemed to go on forever. Ammerman was still hammering away as he questioned his own witness, Jim Gannon. Gannon, a Forensic Accountant, was testifying as to the missing woman’s financial records.

“Mr. Gannon,” Ammerman went on “have you had occasion to examine the financial records and habits of Wendy Garrett?”

“Yes sir, I have,” Gannon responded.

“And how often did Mrs. Garrett use her credit cards in an average day before August 25 of 2005?”

“She used her credit cards an average of 3.6 times per day”

“And after August 25, 2005?”

“There has been no activity on her credit cards in the eight months since then”

“I see,” Ammerman continued, “and can you provide a detailed picture of Mrs. Garrett’s financial situation as of August 24, 2005?”

“Yes sir, she had three accounts. There was a checking account at Case Bank that had a balance of $823.34. There was retirement fund held in the CSEA Credit Union, the balance in that account was $23,453.45. Lastly, there was a savings account with National Bank of America. That account had a balance of $8,344.06.”

“Mr. Gannon, is it possible that there was an account somewhere out there belonging to Mrs. Garrett that you might have missed?”

“I suppose it’s possible Mr. Ammerman, but highly unlikely.”

“Now in the eight months since she was last seen, how many withdrawals have been made from those accounts?”

“None sir.”

“And how many deposits has she made?”

“None Sir, the only changes to the balances were as a result of accrued interest being applied.”

“So on August 25, 2005, Wendy Garrett stepped out of sight of the world and she hasn’t removed any money or added any money to any of her accounts?”

“I don’t know where she stepped sir, but it wasn’t into any of her financial institutions.”

“Thank you Mr. Gannon,” Ammerman said before turning and addressing the judge, “I have no further questions for this witness Your Honor… and I have no more witnesses.”

Maine half stood in his chair to decline his right to cross-examine Gannon.

“I have no questions of this witness your honor.”

With all witnesses now heard, Judge Welch called a one-hour recess after which closing arguments would begin.

Maine decided to spend the recess at M&M Red Hots. M&M’s served the best Texas Hots in the city and Cindy at the counter knew him well.

“Afternoon Counselor. How’s it going?” She greeted him.

“Not good Cindy, not good!”

“Tough case huh.”

“Have you got a stronger word?”

“Do you have time to eat?”

“There’s always time to eat,” he answered with a sigh. “I’ll have the usual.”

“Coming right up,” she chirped as she headed for the grill.

A few moments later Cindy came back with Kurt’s order and an editorial comment.

“You are not going to stay this slim and handsome if you keep eating like this!”

“Mikey wouldn’t like hearing you say that. You’re supposed to encourage people to eat here.”

“Like you’re gonna listen to what I tell you!”

With that Kurt ate his lunch and went over all of his trial notes, hoping to find that one misstatement, that one bit of flawed evidence that he could hang his closing statement on. He had a statement ready but he’d heard a dozen closings just like it in his life and none had worked very well. He was staring down the barrel of the first trial loss of his young career. He sat and pondered over his Texas Hots. As his time grew short, Kurt picked up his legal pads, paid his tab and walked the two blocks back to the courthouse. There, he took a few moments to talk with his client and let him know what to expect. Afterwards, with the standard escort of deputies, they found their way back to the defense table and sat down. The prosecution hadn’t returned yet so everyone was just waiting for the prosecution and Judge Welch to return to the courtroom. Kurt watched the jurors intently, trying to get any read he could on them. He felt that he had his best chance with jurors numbers three and six, both women in their thirties. They’d both offered subtle smiles in the direction of the defense tables at different points in the trial. Perhaps he could get one of them to hang the jury. He was uneasy about the foreman though. The foreman, Juror number eight, was a fragile, little old man of about seventy. He had avoided looking Kurt or Mark in the eye through the entire trial. He’d often slink down in his seat so that Juror number two, a big man, would obscure him and prevent Kurt from making eye contact. He made no gestures nor did he give away any opinions or leanings with his expressions.

The squeaking of the door drew everyone’s attention and after a short pause, with a gleam in his eye, Kurt turned around too. It was Ammerman; things were about to get moving again. The bailiff stuck his head into judge Welch’s chambers and after a moment that door swung open and everyone’s attention shifted to the Judges entry.

As he was standing up to deliver his closing statement, a look of mischief seized Kurt’s face and he momentarily froze. He had an idea. It would almost surely get him sanctioned somehow, but what the Hell, his job was to vigorously represent his client to the best of his ability and he decided that that was exactly what he was going to do. He leaned over and whispered something to his assistant counsel, Amanda Tyler, who immediately got up and left the courtroom. He was beginning to perspire as he stepped to the front of the courtroom to begin his closing address. He was the prototypical young attorney. At almost six-five, his 210lb frame cut a dashing figure. His piercing brown eyes bored into the jurors, one at a time, locking eyes with every one of them, except the foreman. Kurt was the master of expression. He always seemed to put on just the right face. Sometimes the face that said 'I am trusting you with this decision!' or the look that said, 'I need your help.' This time he didn’t speak right away. He'd learned in a psychology class long ago that if you make someone wait for your words, they will naturally be more curious as to what is coming and thus, they will listen more intently. He slowly crossed in front of the jurors, now looking at his designer shoes and running his right hand through his jet-black hair. Finally, he spoke.

“This reminds me of my high school physics class” He began. “We spent that entire year proving things. Now I find myself trying to prove that my client didn’t kill his wife. For goodness sakes I have to prove she isn’t even dead.” He paused again. He paused as he stared at the jurors and changed his expression. He ceased being someone’s handsome young lawyer son. His face began to show just a bit of anger. “That’s not the way it’s supposed to be,” he thundered, “isn’t Mark Garrett supposed to be innocent until they prove that he’s guilty?” His voice began to rise in volume and in indignation as he pointed at the prosecution. “Hell they can’t even prove that Wendy Garrett is dead!” He roared, his voice now booming across the courtroom. I shouldn’t have to say a God damned thing! I shouldn’t have to prove a damned thing! … But here I am.” he paused and lowered his voice. Now, speaking in a low patronizing voice, he went on. “But I tell you what … I’m going to do. I'm going to do what I shouldn’t have to do. I’m going to prove to you that Wendy isn’t even dead!” Then he glared indignantly at the jury and paused again piquing the jury’s curiosity about what was to come. He gazed down at his Bruno Magli shoes and spoke as loudly and dramatically as he could.

“Wendy Garrett, would you please step into the courtroom now!”

The double doors on the right side of the courtroom creaked as they slowly crept open. Kurt watched with satisfaction as heads in the jury box swung quickly towards the doors. As he turned towards the doors, he saw Ammerman and everyone at the prosecution table turn as well. Everyone in the gallery gasped and looked to their right. For Gods sake even the Judge turned his gaze to the door as his assistant, Amanda walked in with a sly grin on her face. Without missing a beat, Kurt seized the moment and launched into his final tirade.

“And there, members of the jury is my point! Wendy Garrett didn’t walk through that door, but in that fraction in a second when I called for Wendy Garrett to come through those doors, lies the reasonable doubt that you all had, that you all must exercise when you go in there and find Mark Garrett not guilty of murder. For Gods sake even my esteemed adversary at the prosecution table and Judge Welch looked over there!”

As satisfied as Kurt was with himself, the look of wild-eyed rage that swept over Judge Welch’s face told him he was in big trouble.

“I object!” shouted Ammerman.

“I am way ahead of you counselor,” Welch growled, never taking his eyes off of Kurt. “Sustained!” He snapped. “and the only reason counselor, that I don’t find you and your associate in contempt is that it would impair your client’s chance to receive a fair trial. The jury is instructed to disregard that stunt.”

But the damage had been done. Kurt and Amanda both took their seats with sheepish smirks, as the jurors and the gallery buzzed in acknowledgment. It was obvious that his stunt had jabbed them with the shards of reasonable doubt that he wanted to instill. Even Mark couldn’t hide the sudden onset of hope that he would soon be a free man. Though shaken, Ammerman stammered through a now largely impotent closing statement and Judge Welch, still seething, adjourned until the next day, when deliberations would commence. This was unusual as there was still time for them to begin deliberating today. Judge Welch's motives were clarified as they began to leave though. Ammerman caught them before Mark was escorted to the van for transport back to the county lockup.

“Have you got a minute?” Ammerman asked.

“For?” Kurt replied.

“I’d like to offer a deal. How about Manslaughter, second degree”

“Are you kidding?” Kurt asked smugly as he looked at his client to see if he was at all interested. Mark Garrett subtly shook his head in the negative and with that the negotiations ended. “We like our chances with the jury Drew, we’ll see you here tomorrow.”

The next day Kurt arrived at the courthouse full of confidence. The prosecution had never before offered a deal at this late juncture. He’d pulled a freakin' rabbit from his hat. If Kurt Maine wasn’t an A-list lawyer now, the A-listers were within arm’s reach. He spent the first hour of jury deliberations explaining to Mark what would happen after his acquittal. The jury returned in one hour and 30 minutes and filed back into the jury box. Kurt was surprised that they’d returned that fast. He knew he had nailed his closing, but under two hours; it just seemed to get better and better. He began to assemble his various papers and notes as he prepared to meet with the press on the courthouse steps.

“We, the jury in the above-entitled action, find the defendant, Mark Garrett guilty of murder in the second degree…”

The bailiff went on reading, but the words trailed off into the roaring buzz in the court and Judge Welch pounded his gavel demanding order. In the noisy fallout, Kurt and Amanda finished gathering their notes each reconsidering what they would say to the press on the courthouse steps now that they'd lost. Ammerman vanished out the side door and the Judge into his chambers. A half hour later, Kurt pried himself from the press and Amanda pulled the car to the steps to pick him up. As the jury filed out the back exit, Ammerman waited and caught the foreman as he left.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure Mr. Ammerman,” he said with an accommodating tone.

“Ya know I offered the defense a deal after their closing argument. I think that’s why the Judge adjourned, to give me time to offer a deal. Even the Judge must have known that we’d lost. Why’d you guys vote to convict?”

“Well young man,” he answered, “when that defense attorney pulled his parlor trick and his pretty assistant opened those doors, everyone looked over at those doors. Well almost everyone. I myself, watched the defendant and he never looked at those doors once. There was no doubt in his mind. Where ever she was, he knew his wife wasn’t at that door. I just shared my observation with my fellow jurors and that was enough for them.”

With that, juror number eight tipped his hat and sauntered out the back door of the courthouse.

Reviews

[marlayesterday]

I enjoyed reading this. I was captivated until the end. Guilty not guilty? I HAD to know. Great stunt.

[Azeremen12]

Nice ending there, just goes to show that the best laid plans of mice and men... By the way, which lawyers are you looking at, that they average above 6'2? Lol Great story. Very entertaining.

[TL Boehm]

“I don’t know where she stepped sir, but it wasn’t into any of her financial institutions.”
This line is hilarious - not sure why but it is.
the rest of the story is wonderfully penned. I expect nothing less.

[Creepy Swine Guy]

Thanks for the kind words. I'm trying to put something else together these days, something novel-length.

[Eve]

ahhhhhhhhh, nice...You are getting so good at these short stories! I love how you pull us into the plot and then give us a little tickle here and there only to swing it around at the end! Good job! Are publishing these little jewels yet?

[An Ordinary Woman]

That was good! Personally, I loved "the stunt." I can see where a judge might not.
lol
I think it's a brilliant story.