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Chapter Four

Trial

After the interrogation the days passed in a blur. The day of the trial seemed to rush at me. Emily loaned me some of her clothes to wear to the trial. In the end I wore a simple black dress and gray jacket. Between the days I spent almost all of my time alone, mourning for the mother I had lost. The rest of my time was spent with Emily and Leah. It took a few hours but Emily and I finally managed to bring out a little bit of her personality. She was sweet, if a little bit prickly. Social Services took care of getting a lawyer for me, I had needed to tell me lawyer what had happened also. She had prepared me for the questions my father's lawyer would ask me. I decided law is hell.

I woke up early the morning and got ready to go. Emily and Sue were going to sit with me at the prosecution table. Seth, Leah, and Embry would sit in the audience. The judge was a middle aged man, probably a dad, who was known for his work in domestic violence cases.

The ride to the courthouse was agonizing. My head swam with thoughts I was to scared to understand. The walk up the sidewalk into the courtroom was even worse. People swarmed around me, crowding so close that I felt as though I couldn't breath. Inside, the people disappeared, replaced Ms. Greenway bustling me over to the prosecution table. As I sat down I looked around the room. It was simple, bland carpet muffled most sounds even though the cavernous room echoed it around.

In a sudden flurry of movement, everyone rose to their feet as the judge entered. Then, moving mechanically I sat down with the rest of the people in the room. As the clerk called court into session, I stared at the man who would decide what would happen to my father for his crimes.

My lawyer called Emily as the first witness. She hugged my around the shoulders and walked to the witness box. After being sworn in, she sat down and prepared for the questions. My lawyer, Samantha Greenway, was up first.

"Ms. Covert, How long did you know Mary Clearwater?"

"I knew Anna's mother ever since I was eight years old," Emily said quietly. "nine years."

Greenway nodded, like that meant something important. "During that time, how often did you see her, or Anna Clearwater, with bruises or other injuries indicating they had been physically abused?"

Emily flinched, the memories rushing to just as they did to me. "More times than I could count. Anna would come over to my house, and the next day at school she would have bruises."

Greenway nodded again. "Was he ever been intoxicated in your presence?"

"I have never seen him not drunk." Emily said, deathly quiet now.

"Was he intoxicated on September 9?"

Emily swallowed hard, she knew what was coming. "Like I said, I have never seen him sober."

Greenway looked directly at her. "When you entered the house did you see Mr. Clearwater with a knife?"

Emily was nearly shaking. "I didn't go that far into the house, I couldn't even see him until the police arrived."
Greenway nodded, as though it was the first time for her to hear that information. Then she spoke again. "Why didn't you enter the house?"

Emily swallowed, obviously still regretting her actions. "Anna told me to stay out and call the police. That's what I did."

Greenway turned to the judge. "No more questions your honor."

Then it was the other lawyer's turn. He walked up to the witness box with an expression on his face like he knew he would loose the case. I didn't pay much attention to him questioning Emily. He seemed to be trying to make it seem like my father had a mental condition.

Then it was my turn. I heard my lawyer call me up to the witness stand. I stood up and hugged Emily as I walked by. Dimly, I heard the clerk talking to me.

The clerk held out a bible, indicating for me to place my left hand on the cover and raise my right hand. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God."

I looked at the bible. The truth would mean pain. The truth would mean telling everyone. The truth would mean never letting him near me again. Telling would mean that it would never happen again. "I do."

Greenway paced in front of me, holding her arms behind her back. "Ms. Clearwater, when did your father start drinking?"

I looked down, innocent enough I guess, at least in comparison to where these questions would lead. "The first time I saw him over-drinking was when I was seven."

Greenway nodded, for the third time. "Is that when he started beating your mother?"

I stared at the curly grains of wood that made up the witness box. Blinking away the prickles I felt in my eyes. "I think so but I'm not sure."

Greenway looked at me sympathetically. This was where the difficult began. "When did he first hit you?"

My hands twitched, unable to keep still. "The first time he-" my voice wavered, but I forced myself to go on. "hit me was when I was twelve and I got in between him and my mother.

"Did you or your mother ever have to go to the hospital?"

The hospital. All the times I had to make up a story of where the bruises, and scratches, and scrapes came from. "Yes, a few weeks after my thirteenth birthday he hit me in the back with a broken beer bottle. I had to get fifteen stitches." I heard one woman in the jury gasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her fanning herself profusely with a notebook.

Greenway her voice held absolutely no emotion. "Could you please describe the events of September ninth?"

It was strange to me that they always said it as just a date, as though that would take the pain away. I felt my chest constrict, making my heartbeat louder in my ears. I had to say this. There wasn't a choice anymore. My shoulders were shaking, but I spoke.

"The day before my mother told me she was going to divorce him. I was happy we would finally leave him. When I went to school the next day she told me she would show him the papers. I got back home at the normal time, and Emily came with me. I got to the house and heard screaming. I told Emily to stay outside and call the police. I ran in and saw that my father was very drunk. He had a knife and was shouting at my mother. I- I tried to talk him down, and at first it worked, but then Mom jammed her hand on a piece of broken glass. He ran to her and beat her against the wall. I tried to stop him," My voice thickened and I felt my eyes water, barely holding the tears at bay. "b-but I couldn't stop him. He knocked me against a wall, and I fell. H-h-he stabbed her, and she was dead."

Greenway looked at me.

"No more questions"