Chapter 1

Fairfield, Victoria
June, 1984

 

Robinson Marrit drummed his fingertips on the wooden panels of the juror’s stand, waiting for something exciting to catch his interest. He glanced at the packed courtroom, filled with curious spectators craning their necks and fanning their faces. The judge droned about an irrelevant question while witnesses fidgeted and folded their arms. Besides the whir of an ill-placed fan, the only sounds were the hushed whispers of the crowd and the sporadic comments made by the judge and solicitors.

It was unusually humid for a summer’s day in British Columbia. As if the heat had turned up in response to the matter, the temperate 25º-Celsius temperature was more of a curse than a blessing " the air-conditioning in the building was broken, but the trial had to go on. The jurors tugged at their tailored suits while the cameramen ignored the perspiration on their faces to steady their cameras. Robinson rubbed his cheek against his jacket and stared on with his chin resting on his hand.

Despite the uncomfortable conditions, the jury was strangely attached to the current trial.

What could have been a quiet court negotiation sky-rocketed into a full-fledged controversy once it was discovered that the Canadian electronics magnate, Vincent Van der Wiel had been accused of fraud by one of his workers.

Not surprisingly, the main focus of the trial was the extramarital affair, where the radio assembler, Miles Halter accused the middle-aged businessman of sleeping with his 19-year old daughter and then robbing her of both their assets. Van der Wiel staunchly denied the claims, sending nervous glances every now and then at his wife, who stiffly sat in the audience.

It was a large enough case for camera tripods to be flooding the exits of the courtroom; the journalists and reporters squinting at the judge in a lumped, sweaty huddle. Residents from all over British Columbia and much of Canada itself tuned toward their televisions, hungry for the updates of the trial.

Somehow, Robinson was thrown in the middle of it. When he received the letter alerting him of his duties to the Canadian government, he only thought of the paperwork and lost work time. Now, he was stuck in a hot, stuffy, room with a hundred other people, but it was probably more than he’d get done doing work at home. He combed his parted hair with his fingers and continued listening. He wasn’t that fond of court trials, but there were worse ways to spend a lazy Thursday afternoon. He glanced over his stand, his ears perking up to the rumours that circulated among the jury stand.

            He could see Halter and his skinny daughter sitting off by the prosecution stand. The accused, Van der Wiel, was nervously flexing his fingers. Robinson let his eyes travel through the courtroom. Who were the main players?

            Standing up at the defence table was the solicitor Georges Rommel, an iron-haired hulk of a man. He wore a large blue striped suit that stretched across his massive chest and a wide frown on his face. According to one of the jurors, he was a recruit from Montreal, which explained his thick French-Canadian accent. Judging by the style of his suit and the way his nose lifted in the air when he glanced at the defence table, he must have been worth a pretty grand for Van der Wiel. 

            Robinson glanced to the prosecution table, where Halter and his daughter were whispering to each other. His opponent was the opposite in image: Solicitor Carina Rossi was a young, petite woman that was hired from Downtown Victoria where the defendant worked. Twenty years his junior in both age and experience, and probably worth a fifth of his price. According to one of the jurors, she was a fairly accomplished solicitor specializing in sexual assault and domestic violence, but this was the first time she’d ever taken a big case.

            You didn't have to be a law and court junkie to know that there was little chance that the prosecutor would win the case. There was little evidence established, muddy accusations, and an overpaid defence team supporting a powerful figure. Anyone with sense in the courtroom had a good idea of how the trial would turn out. He glanced over at the other jurors with their hushed voices. They seemed to know. He wondered if the prosecutor knew it too.

            Speaking of prosecutors--

            Robinson drew his eyes over the red-haired woman that was now gripping her arms on the stand. Curly auburn hair, navy dress suit, short and curvy stature, and some sort of Southern-European ethnicity that made her stand out from the rest of the grumbling middle-aged men. She'd probably seem like the fierce kind of woman if it wasn't for the impression that she was about to collapse.

            Hm. What was wrong with her?

            "Mrs. Rossi. Mrs. Rossi? Your questioning?"

            She blinked and glanced at the judge. "Yes, I'm sorry."

            The judge gave her a hard glance as she hastily took out her notes and fluttered through her binder. He could almost see Georges Rommel smirking.

            Robinson watched as she approached the first witness, a neighbor at the scene where the bigamy had supposedly taken place.

            It was the usual routine, and Rossi definitely wasn't bad at her job. The lawyer had an air for dramatic speech, highlighting the important points and pressing on anything that seemed vague or inconclusive. She was definitely talented. There was only one problem -- there was no evidence. After about five minutes, it was clear that she was completely spent.

            The crowd muttered in the strange silence, waiting for her to say something else. The lawyer closed her eyes suddenly, licked her lips and muttered, "No further questions.” She looked breathless.

            The judge nodded. “The defence may conduct their cross-examination.”

            Rommel stepped to the stand the second she turned, brushing her away. For a man his age, he was surprisingly swift and promptly snapped his binder open.

            "Annemarie Lyons!" he boomed.

            Robinson flinched at his volume, and the frail young housewife suddenly cringed in his presence. The entire court tensed up in anticipation, raising their bodies and looking toward Rommel with interest.

            Robinson couldn’t help chuckling as he noticed her drop her head.

            It was over.

            It took only about another five minutes for Rommel to completely unhinge the witness's testimony. Despite the claims of hearing voices, thumping noises and moans, and seeing a couple entwined in bed, the witness had now become useless. And a contender for perjury.

            Rommel triumphantly stepped off the stand, marching off with the court in wake of a stunned, but revered calm.

            Carina Rossi was wilting, her face seeped with her sweat, and her head drooping as she wiped her face with her hands. There were red patches on her cheeks that definitely didn’t come from makeup. From his location, Robinson could even see the quiver of her hands.

            Robinson frowned as he watched her. He could hear the other jurors remarking on her strange behavior.

            “What’s wrong with her?”

            “Doesn’t she know how to act in a court of law?”

            “She looks sick…”

            Robinson stood up and faced the judge. All eyes flew towards him.

            "Pardon my interruption, but with all due respect, Your Honour, could we call for a short recess? The prosecuting solicitor looks rather ill.”

            Robinson glanced toward Carina Rossi. She had fallen out of her stupor, and was looking straight at him, wide-eyed. What are you doing? she mouthed. You can't interrupt court!

            The judge’s face hardened as he squared his shoulders toward Robinson. “Juror!” he roared. “This is a court of law, and you are out of order! You are not to speak unless asked to, understand?”

            “Yes sir,” said Robinson, and with a nod, sat down.

Audience members clicked their tongues and he could feel the cameras positioning their lenses in his direction. The other juror members whispered amongst themselves, but no one directly spoke to him.

“What was that about?”

“Some nerve…”

“Dumb kid.”

            Carina Rossi was still in shock, her perspiring face slack with embarrassment as she noticed everyone’s eyes focus on her. The judge cleared his throat.

            "Ms. Rossi, are you feeling healthy?"

            She snapped to attention and raised her shoulders.

            "Yes, I'm fine.” Rommel smothered a scoff.

            The judge continued staring at her through his thick spectacles.      

            Her voice faltered and her shoulders slumped. "A 10-minute recess would be...much appreciated though."

            The judge nodded his head. "It’s been a long stretch of proceedings. All those in favor? Defence?"

            Rommel gave a pretentious shake of the head and a flicker of the finger that meant he couldn't bother to say no. The courtroom murmured in accord.

            "Well, then. Since we’re all in accord, I’ll call a recess.” The judge rapped the gavel. We'll continue after…fifteen minutes. 10:45.”

            He glanced at Rossi again, who let out a suppressed sigh as she snapped her binder shut.

            Robinson could hear the other jurors muttering something under their breaths and giving him sidelong glances as they got up. He shrugged, not being able to care less. He was the youngest juror of the entire group, and to them, he probably looked like some ignorant college student. He ignored them and stared on.

            Exhausted and lightheaded, Ms. Rossi moved toward the exits, glancing in Robin's direction, but not finding the individual juror in the sea of people. She gave up and wiped her brow as Rommel nearly trampled her again with his heavy strides.

            Robinson folded his arms and watched her slip out of the courtroom. It seemed like everyone wanted to leave the stuffy room quickly. He waited until half the courtroom was empty before getting up and strolling off into the Great Hall.

            The female solicitor had guts, he would give her that. She was definitely an interesting character, and despite her doomed case and strange behavior, Robinson was impressed by her prosecution. But how long could it hold up?

            Well then, he thought. Let's see what kind of show you bring on next.

           

            Rossi looked refreshed when she entered the courtroom again. Her face was still pale, with flushed cheeks, though it had the appearance of being splashed by cold water. There was a thin frown on her face, and her eyes were sharper than they were before. She took her place on the prosecution table with poise, a fierce expression painted on her face.

            Robinson recognized that look. Was it a sense of resolution or forced pride?

            He folded his hands and sat back on the bench.

            It only took a few moments after the next witness that the courtroom fell into frenzy. The prosecution made several statements, all of which were furiously countered by the defence. The examination was becoming more and more heated. The Judge raised his voice and banged his gavel while Rossi’s shrill cry clashed with Rommel’s dull roar. The jury members were sitting on the edges of their seats now, both anxious and strangely excited.

            Robinson wrinkled his nose as he watched the two solicitors throw remarks back and forth. The point seemed to be moving farther and farther away from the point of the trial. Every time Rossi’s statements backfired, the direction of her chain of questions bounced further.

            After the third successfully blocked claim, Rommel threw back his head and snorted instead of roaring out his usual objection.

            "You can't actually believe you can make these baseless claims without evidence, do you, woman? You have no proof that anything even happened in the witness's claim!" He threw his head back with a haughty look. "You haven't been able to prove anything at all during this trial."

            The juror's stand and courtroom drew their breaths in. The judge raised his head to the rudeness, but hesitated. Robinson could see his fingers wrapping around the gavel. He turned his head to the prosecution stand. How would Rossi respond?

            Instead of the dejected slump that she gave previously, Rossi seemed to grow larger in size, raising her shoulders and puffing her chest. "Well, then Mr. Rommel," she said scathingly, "We all know very well that there are happenings in our country that aren't explained by the evidence given at hand..." She cocked her head, her brown eyes slanting. "Facts that cannot be repudiated by the petty diversions of highly-paid lawyers and the courts to which they flaunt."

            Robinson grinned. She would pay for that statement.

            Rommel's face darkened. He was about to speak again, but Rossi cut him off.

            "In fact," continued Rossi loudly. "There are incidents in our surroundings that hurt innocents daily, events that pure scientific analysis can never prove." Her eyes narrowed. "It makes us want to hide the evidence instead of facing what it actually is."

            "Stop speaking in puzzles!" snapped Rommel. "Give the courtroom facts, not your philosophical ramblings!”

            A few of the audience members chuckled, and a cold grin appeared on Rommel’s face. Rossi tossed back her head and gripped the stand with her fingers.

            "Suppose," she said. "In the province of British Columbia, you observe a downward trend in robberies, white-collar theft, and assault...and yet, according to statistics, the rate of disappearances goes up 300% just within the last five years. What scientific method could be the explanation of that?”

            Robinson suddenly jolted up in his seat. A few juror members glanced at him.

            "Don't make ridiculous claims that have nothing to do with trial!” roared Rommel.

            The judge slammed the gavel. “Ms. Rossi, where are you going with this?”

            "Are you trying to say that my client is guilty and you intend to accuse him without any evidence at all?" interrupted Rommel. The judge shot daggers at him, but Rossi continued before he could say anything.

            "I'm saying that there's evidence that someone might have disposed of that the courtroom should all know about!" She glared at Rommel. The audience fluttered after her statement. Was Rommel hiding evidence? But where was her proof?

            "Innocent until proven guilty!" roared Rommel.

            "Justice under fairly administered law!" she roared back. Rossi grit her teeth, shoulders shaking. "But there are happenings in our vicinity that even law cannot control.”

            “Order! Order!” roared the judge. “You are both out of order! Ms. Rossi, you will lower your voice and control your statements or you will be asked to leave the court!”

            The courtroom fell silent. Rommel glared at her, too proud and irritated to say anything else. The cameramen raised their heads, waiting for a sign to zoom in on Rossi's face or take another angle of the courtroom.

            The jury members were whispering furiously amongst themselves and the audience members were now fanning themselves with increased agitation.

            Robinson's mouth went slightly agape. I don't believe this. She's using the media attention to make a statement in court. It was terrible.

            A smile rose on his lips. And it was genius. He leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms. Good show, Ms. Rossi.

            The judge’s face was twisted with annoyance and he lowered his voice. "Do you have an explanation for yourself, Dr. Rossi?”

            She lowered her head and let out a ragged sigh. "No, I suppose I got carried away. My apologies, Your Honour.”

            The judge growled and leaned over his stand and glared down at her. "Listen, Ms. Rossi. I will not have these antics in my courtroom. You are out of line. And Mr. Rommel, if you could refrain from shouting as well…” The rest of the courtroom fell into a stupor as the judge continued to admonish the solicitors.

            Rossi’s head was tilted down at the ground, and Robinson could see her fists shaking.

            She had definitely thrown the professional standing of her position out of the window, but she had successfully shaken the courtroom with the statements that she had been trying to make. He stroked his chin. But for what reason?

            The rest of the trial passed in a haze while Robinson pondered the meaning behind her statements. Unfortunately, things weren’t looking so good for Rossi. The judge kept a close eye over her statements, canceling her objections before she could make any more outrageous claims. Robinson could tell by the raised eyebrows of the other juror members that their opinions had fallen. She had already lost the trial from the hearts of jurors. He drew his eyes over Miles Halter and his daughter and then back to Rossi. It was a lost cause.

            After about another hour, the judge cleared his throat and collected his notes.
            “That’ll be all for today for this trial. We’ll wrap up the rest of this case promptly tomorrow morning, hopefully within the hour if our solicitors don’t engage in a fight again…” He shot another wary glance and rapped his gavel. “Court is adjourned!”

            This time, Robinson stood up immediately, dashing from his seat and jostling through the other jury members. The fluttered women yelped and the men cursed at him, but he continued pushing his way through. From the corner of his eye, he could see Carina Rossi dejectedly marching off from the prosecution table. As he dashed out from the courtroom, their eyes met for a moment, and then he turned away into the hall.

            He slid through the throng of reporters and left the building.

           

            It was much cooler in the open streets, once he had escaped the crowd of reporters that were patiently waiting outside.

            "What happened in there?”

            "Who do you think will win?”

            Robinson ignored them, his long strides too fast for the cameramen and journalists in starchy suits and high heels to catch up. He ducked into a nearby telephone booth and punched in a memorized country code and nine-digit number. Letting out a long sigh, he wiped his forehead with his arm and leaned against the dirty glass of the booth.

            After several seconds, a phone rang in Brooklyn, New York.

            "Hello?”

            “It’s me, Robin.”

            The speaker laughed. "Hey, Robin! You at the trial? What’s happening over there?”

            Robinson laughed. “A bunch of commotion. You should check the news, some of these statements are incredible. For a court of law at least.”

“Haha, things got bogus over there, didn’t it? I thought as much. Too bad, the stations here at New York don’t show much on Canadian news. Too centralized.”

Robinson sighed. “What a waste. It feels like nothing ever really happens in this country, doesn’t it?”

“Haha, you want to switch? Mobs and gangs here every day, if you want them.”

He chuckled. “Might be more than what meets the eye, if you were there at court. There’s more people in on the stats than we know of.”

            “Huh? What d’you mean?”

            A sly grin stretched on Robinson’s lips as the image of Carina Rossi popped in his head.

            "We've just found our lead."

Author's Note

This is the only court drama scene in the novel, for better or for worse.

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

Though you have an amazing talent in linguistics, I hate to say it, but a quarter through this chapter, I got bored. To me, this was just another case among hundreds in the tons of stories I could have read. Regardless, you have caught my attention at the end, and though I'm honestly reluctant to read the next chapter, I'm still inspired and you've held my attention.. For now. Well done, just work on adding more intensity to the chapter or book or something.