Archive | April, 2014

Chapter Forty: To Bail or Not to Bail

27 Apr
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading TheMapThinker.com

 

L C Had never been in a courtroom before. It looked just like the ones on TV, all the way from the old black and white Perry Mason series up to the newest Blu-ray.

She thought she was going to go to her arraignment but it turned out it was her preliminary hearing. Something that happens before an arraignment.

It would have been comforting to have had Kathy Bates from Harry’s Law instead of the heavy-eyed Tulkhorn sitting next to her. She looked at him out of the corner of her right eye. It was not a sight to cheer up her already lowered spirits.
He looked reluctant and lethargic, as though he not only did not want to be there, he barely had the energy to lift his head up high enough to look at the judge.

L C had asked him, “Are you really my lawyer? Or are you working for the Langlins?”

He studied her carefully before answering. “I work for money. My skills do not come cheap. If I am paid I work. If I am not paid ― I do not work. I am being paid ― to represent you. As long as I am being paid ― I represent you ― and you alone.”

“And if they quit paying you?”

“Then you will probably be given a public defender.”

Somehow she felt like she was back in the cell with Violet. “I’m a professional. I don’t get paid I don’t fight.” She had said.

A man in uniform stood up. “All rise.”

Everyone stood up.

The judge entered. Sat behind his desk. Nodded his head.

The man in uniform intoned, “You may be seated.” Then he sat down and so did everyone else.

The judge read some papers. Looked around the room. Said some things L C didn’t follow. Then he said a string of numbers and suddenly asked “How do you plead. Guilty or not guilty.”

“Not guilty. My client has no knowledge of the crime in any manner, shape or form.”

The prosecutor rose. He was everything her lawyer was not. He was young. He was good-looking. He was thin and hard muscled. He bounded to his feet. He spoke strongly, quickly, and steadily. He had a good speaking voice.

“We ask that bail be denied, your honor. She is a flight risk. She has already attempted to flee the country once and it was entirely through luck she was apprehended within minutes of boarding.” He handed papers to the judge. L C assumed they were tickets, flight plans, etc. Proof she was boarding an airplane bound for Europe.

Tulkhorn rose. “Rediculous. My client,” he stared at L C causing every eye in the room to go to her. She was dressed in the most professional, most “nanny” looking outfit money could buy. He had handed it to her earlier and instructed her to go into the bathroom and put it on. She was surprised that it fit her perfectly, but it did.

“She was not fleeing. She was acting ― in her capacity as nanny. She was following her employers instructions. On extremely short notice ― I might add. Unless,” he managed to look at the prosecutor with his entire body, not just his eyes,

“you claim her employer ― was somehow involved ― in this alleged ‘escape’ ― you keep talking about.”

The judge brought down his gavel. “You will address the court, counselor.”

Ponderously Tulkhorn turned his body toward the judge. “Of course your honor. Is it your wish to extradite her employers from,” he riffled through his papers, “France, I believe.” He waited expectantly.

The judge did not look happy. “Of course not. I do not believe anyone here has implied her employers were, or are, in any way concerned in the matter.” He looked to the prosecutor. “Isn’t that correct, counselor.”

“Of course your honor. All of our findings indicate the girl acted on her own.”

“Woman,” Stated Tulkhorn. “She is twenty years old. She is no longer a girl.”

“This woman, acted alone. She admits to being in the cabin and her prints are all over a revolver which appears to have been fired at the crime scene.”

“Appeared.” Tulkhorn straightened his tie. “Was the gun fired at the crime scene or not? Was it fired during the crime? She does not deny handling the gun. She admits it. Even if she fired it. If she did so a week before the crime ― it is not pertinent.”

“One question at a time, counselor.” Advised the judge.

The prosecutor looked apologetic. “Our town is not large enough to afford a full-sized crime lab, your honor. We have to farm these things out. The results are not back yet.”

“I see the pistol, I am unclear  –  about what has been sent –  to the crime lab.”

“A bullet dug out of the roof of the cabin, your honor.”

“It is a hunter’s cabin, your honor, such things – often – happen.. Is there any proven connection between my client and the bullet in the roof?”

“We cannot allow a cold-blooded killer to roam the streets at will simply because the test results that would prove it are not yet returned to us.”

Tulkhorn squared his shoulders. “Noble sentiments. However my client is not a murderer. She has nothing to run from. And the results of the test will clear her of wrong doing.”

The prosecutor spoke passionately. “She murdered her fiance with no compassion. It was a torture scene. She knows we will prove this. She has every reason to flee. And we do not believe it is in society’s best interest to allow someone with so little compassion as to commit such a barbarous to be allowed to roam the streets, your honor.”

“There is no evidence ― my client ― has had any contact ― with the deceased ― except for a chance encounter ― one time only ― in a grocery store.”

“Which she lied to the police about.”

“A chance encounter ― a half a year ago. In a grocery store. I am sure ― I can produce someone ― the prosecutor ― or even yourself your honor ― you encountered in a grocery store ― a half a year ago ― that you do not recall.”

“An encounter that was so blatant the owner of the story threw her out over.”

“That has yet to be proven. And the prosecution ―has only interviewed ― one witness to this ― alleged ‘incident’.”

In the end she was let go with five hundred thousand dollars bail which Tulkhorn posted. She had to surrender her passport and was told not to so much as leave the city limits.

 

 

 
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Thirty – Nine: The New Old Timer

20 Apr
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading TheMapThinker.com

 

 

Janet was gone. “She’ll be back, one of her new friends told L C. It was the type of woman L C would never have spoken to a week ago. A woman she would have skirted past and not looked at. Yet in here, today, she saw woman who was the closest thing she had to a friend. A thin woman who looked older than her years with bad teeth, bad skin, and bad hair. She’s never gone long. In six months to a year she’ll get in trouble again. She always does.”

L C Was puzzled. “I thought with the three strikes thing that couldn’t happen any more. I thought if you kept getting in trouble you wound up in prison for life.”

“Ahg. It is like a routine, honey. She never does anything real bad. She gets arrested, gets booked on some big fat charge, gets the charge reduced. Winds up doing community service. Most of the time it doesn’t even show up on her record.” She shrugged and smiled broadly, either unaware or uncaring of the condition of her teeth.

L C felt as if a rope holding her to reality was somehow cut, setting her adrift, a boat that had lost its ties to the wharf that gave it stability. “It’s like a whole new world. It’s like an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel where you wake up on in a whole new world. Or nowadays I guess a whole different parallel universe. The world I lived in two days ago and I live in today have nothing to do with each other. Just yesterday my biggest worry was whether I should go to college or marry a man who could support me. Now I don’t even know if someone is feeding my chihuahua right.”

“Honey, you got more to worry about than a chihuahua. Word is you getting Andy this afternoon. She’s been in prison twice. She goes again she probably spend the rest of her life in there.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with me?”

“Word says you up for murder. You could wind up with her for your roomy for a few years. She is a bull dyke. White supremacist. Good chance for you to get in some practice. Cuddle up with her and she is the only ass you’ll have to kiss.”

“Uhhhhh.” L C felt like a space shuttle that had broken free of earth’s gravity, never to return.

“She ain’t your regular gay girl who wants to do her own thing and be left alone to do hers and her girlfriends. Andy is a cave man with a vagina. She will grab a sweet thing like you by the hair and …”

L C Left. Short, quick steps. She wasn’t prepared to face the concepts, let alone the pictures, that were going through her mind. She felt slightly dazed.

It happened later that afternoon.

She was not ready to face Andy. The woman was built like a tank with arms and legs. She would make the incredible hulk blink twice. She was huge. She was fat but she looked like her fat cells had muscles all their own. She looked like she lived for one purpose and one purpose only. To beat the hell out of anybody she could find.

The minute she entered the cell was like sides were chosen. She stared at Violet and Diamond, and even though Violet and Diamond were in separate parts of the room L C could see them forming a solid rank against the newcomer.

Then she looked at L C, “At least there is one white woman in here.”

L C felt her own eyes widen. She turned and looked at Violet. Until then it had never dawned on her Violet wasn’t white. Her skin was actually a shade or two lighter than Andy’s.

Violet smiled. It was a cold smile, one Jack Nickleson would be proud of. “A real racist can tell.”

Andy sneered at L C. “You didn’t even know. Hell, you got a lot of learning to do.”

L C felt something clutch at her diaphragm. She wasn’t even sure if it were fear or not. She knew it was a feeling that would inhibit her ability to act, to move, to defend herself and she did not like it. She knew there was no right or wrong here. It did not matter what she said or did, she was not going to find a “door three” with the bright shiny car inside. No matter what she chose, or why she chose it, there was not going to be a happy solution in here. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Her mother always told her to make the best of every situation. What would she consider the best in here? Her mother scorned her grandparents injunction, “Its better to lose being yourself than to win being somebody you despise.” Her hippy grandparents, thrown out of their wealthy homes, living on the fringe of society, arrested during sit-ins, marching for civil rights, had no doubt faced similar problems as she was facing now.

L C Suddenly realized that when you are in a parallel universe, say a prison universe, reality also changes. As the reality she lived in changed she grabbed onto the only constant she could find. She realized she had to decide who she was, really was, and she had to decide now. She felt the fear wash over her, rising from her feet up over her head. But she knew she could not let the fear decide for her.

She spoke slowly, deliberately, the way Tulkhorn spoke. “I’m not ― Interested ― In learning ― anything ― You have ― To teach.”

“What? You a lover of,” she paused to sneer, “These?” she gestured toward Violet and Diamond.

“Yeah.” L C Looked directly at Diamond’s eyes, even though Diamond kept her eyes trained on Andy. “I love her. She’s my aunt.”

“Bah.” Andy snorted. “What you think that black bitch going to do for you in prison?”

Diamond started to move. Violet interposed herself. Knowledge passed between the two L C was not privy to.

“You think she is your friend? In there she will slit your little white throat without even thinking about it.” Andy leaned close and spoke in L C’s ear so close she could feel hot, stale breath, tinged with dead cigarette smoke. “When you reach the big time you better choose sides. And it better be the right one.”

“Oh, my god,” thought L C “I can’t go to prison. I’ll never survive.”

 

 

 

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Thirty – Eight: The Letter

5 Apr

 

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading TheMapThinker.com

 

 

 

The desk wasn’t a desk. It was a piece of metal stuck to the wall. It was hard, it was cold, it was unfriendly. Two stools were provided to sit on while trying to write a letter. They were uncomfortable. The felt like someone had designed them for a torture chamber. When you sat on one it did not feel as though it were designed to accommodate the person’s posterior. It felt more as though it were designed to assault it in an obscene manner.

Somehow money had appeared on her books, allowing her to buy what few luxuries were allowed. Paper and something to write with were among them.

So she was trying to write a letter to her mother.

She hadn’t started when the older tattooed woman spoke to her. “Be damn careful what you put in that. They read every word and it will come back to bite you in the ass.”

“First time I got arrested I was just a scared kid. I wrote a letter home about how upset I was, all my feelings, I just poured it out.”

“Yeah. I can see doing that.”

“If you are a scared kid with no lawyer they can keep you for seventy-two hours. By then my letters home were so frantic the prosecutor petitioned the judge to have me sent to observation for possible mental problems. According to them I had no reason to be scared of nothing. No reason to cry either. So I spent a year in a cuckoo’s nest. I was never charged, never convicted, never nothing. Just kept.”

“Shoulda kept on keeping ya.” It was from the woman in the bunk. Her name was Violet. She was the most muscular woman L C had ever seen in her life. When she told L C “I’m a professional boxer,” her response was, “I guess I’ll try not to make you mad at me then.”

“Kid, I’m a professional. You can’t tick me off. If there isn’t a purse I don’t fight.”

“Purse?”

“You know. Prize. Money. A professional boxes in the ring for money. You don’t pay me I don’t fight.” She tapped the newspaper in her hand. She subscribed to it, said she needed it to keep up with her professional career. “A philosophy you could use according to the paper here.”

“Huh?” L C Wasn’t sure where the conversation was leading.
Violet shoved the paper under L C’s nose. It was a picture of her with the caption, “Family discusses home wrecker who allegedly murdered their husband, father, brother.” As L C read Violet went on,

“From now on don’t do no home wrecking unless you get paid for it. You can’t just be giving this stuff away for free, you know.”

The tattooed woman, Margie, chided, “I thought you were in here for street fighting.”

“No. I’m in here for mouth trouble. This guy hit his woman and blacked her eye. I told him he was a pretty sorry piece hitting a woman like that. So he took a couple a swings at me and couldn’t hit me. He got mad and when the cops come he said I’d hit the woman and give her the black eye. She scared of him. She won’t say boo.”

“You need a high priced mouth like cinderella here.” She indicated L C “How’d you getta lawyer like that? You ain’t got the bucks to pay him.”
She explained Tulkhorn was the Langlin’s lawyer.

“And you trust him?”

“He told me he is my lawyer.”

 

“You poor little fool. He isn’t here for your benefit. He is here to keep the richy bitchy Langlin’s nose clean. He don’t care about you. He’ll toss you anywhere he needs to to keep the people who pay his wage looking good.”

 

 

 
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ultimatemindsettoday

A great WordPress.com site

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

War By Other Means

Politics & Philosophy

this is... The Neighborhood

the Story within the Story

stillness of heart

MUSINGS : CRITICISM : HISTORY : PASSION

The Guilty Preacher Man

abandoned illustrations

matchtall

A tall women amazon model WordPress.com sit

Three Wise Guys

Best not to think about it

Mister G Kids

A daily comic about real stuff little kids say in school. By Matt Gajdoš

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

The Judy-Jodie and Kelli Memorial Blog

A great WordPress.com site

A Financial Life Coach

Your Financial Life Coach

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Dysfunctional Literacy

Just because you CAN read Moby Dick doesn't mean you should!

Top 10 of Anything and Everything - The Fun Top Ten Blog

Animals, Gift Ideas, Travel, Books, Recycling Ideas and Many, Many More

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