Final Chapter, 9: "If At First You Don't Succeed…"
"All rise. Court is now in session. Honorable Judge Joseph Walters presiding," the bailiff watches Walters enter from his chambers and seat himself, then speaks, "you may all be seated."
Sam sits. He half glances, then look again and sees Al hovering in the air in a sitting position.
"What? My legs are tired. Hope you don't mind, I'm using your office chair."
"Mr. Devins, your defense," says Walters.
Sam stands up. Unlike the last courtroom he stood in, this one was air conditioned and therefore didn't require a wipe-down rag to pay himself dry. Unfortunately, this robbed him of a chance to ease in and present in a calmly manner.
"I would like to call Sheriff Thomas Jenkins to the stand."
There is some murmuring amongst the courtroom crowd.
Jenkins walks passed Sam – eying him – and to the stand. The bailiff approaches with a bible.
"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"Yes."
"You may be seated."
Jenkins sits.
"You don't like me very much?" asks Sam.
"Objection, you honor. Matter of personal opinion," comments Learson.
"Sustained. Relevance?" Walters asks Sam.
"Oh no, that's okay your honor. I'll state for the record my discontempt for this filthy weasel," says Jenkins.
"We used to be friends, did we not?" asks Sam.
"About twenty years ago, when I didn't know any better."
"Fact of the matter is this hatred drove you to pursue me across counties and into another state, and even shoot out my back windshield."
"You were fleeing."
"And what about my daughter, was she 'fleeing'?"
"Objection! He's badgering!" yells Learson.
"Sustained," whacks the gabble, "tread carefully Mr. Devins."
"You were also friends with the victim, were you not?" asks Sam without loosing the pace.
"Yes," squirms in his seat a bit, "I was."
Sam stops. He touches his lips with a finger, in thought.
The courtroom doors open and officer 332 enters with a small box and paper in hand. He shakes his head to Devins.
Jenkins lowers his head and face and the ceiling lights cast shadows over his eyes. The smirk disappears from his face.
Sam removes the finger.
"Sheriff Jenkins ….. did you happen to notice the gun beside my daughter?"
"Yes, a Glock 21. It's a good arm."
"That's all."
Jenkins leaves the stand.
"I call Lieutenant Darren Mossten to the stand."
An officer sitting in the court stands and approaches; he is sworn in.
"Can you state your position?"
"I ran ballistics on this case."
"Can you state for the record again, what type bullet and gun killed the victim?"
"A .21 from a Glock."
"And my daughter?"
"The same. Fired from the same gun."
"Did anyone check the serial numbers on the weapon?"
"Well," scratches his hairline, "they were entered into a report – standard procedure."
"Let me rephrase: did anyone run a check to see whom the owner was?" asks Sam sternly.
"No."
"Officer Eastman," signals for him. 332 comes over and removes a paper. "his is a copy of ownership transfer of the very .21 Glock in question, from Harris Jenkins senior to his son, Thomas Jenkins," hands it to the judge.
Sam holds some more papers and places the small box on Judge Walters' desk, "Officer Aaron Eastman attempted to resuscitate my daughter."
332 continues after Sam looks at him, "After the sheriff left I preformed CPR on Catrina Devins. A minute or so later she awoke. It was after this she informed me Larrold Tolland had been raping her."
"Objection!" shouts Learson.
"Too late Mr. Learson, you waved the evidence on it. This is the bed you've made," says Walters.
332 continues, "He had been taking pictures," hands some to the judge. Sam gives some to the jury. "But Larrold Tolland wasn't exactly internet squvy, so he gave them to an unknown assailant."
Sam turns to the judge, "What you have on your desk in the hard drive from Sheriff Jenkins' computer, which I procured a while back. Along with my daughter, Jenkins hosted a child pornography site and intimidated the parents and children of various witnesses over the years."
Jenkins shots up, glaring and ready ti explode. His hands turns read from fists.
Sam continues, "I submit to you that the victim, Larrold Tolland, was going to roll over on Jenkins. When Jenkins found out, he shot him dead. Then he chased us, tried to kill me, then killed my daughter to keep his crime a secret."
Loud gasps come from the room.
PAST. DAYS AGO.
"I thought you'd never wake."
Sam sees an old man sitting in a chair across from his cell bars.
"Who are you?"
"Who am I? Son, haven't you ever read the papers?"
"Sorry."
"Joseph Walters. Ringing any bells?"
"Judge Walter."
"Accept no substitutions. Don't worry, officer Bital let me in the back way. No one knows we're speaking."
"You come to rub the chair in my face too?"
"A day ago, that would have been my position. You did kill Larry Tolland."
"He raped my daughter. More than once."
"I know."
"How?"
"I just got threw speaking to Aaron Eastman a couple hours ago. Officer 332 who assisted Sheriff Jenkins in your capture."
"He came and saw me too. You understand, don't you?"
There is a moment of quiet, then Walters speaks in reply, "I've been doing this for over 30 years now Mr. Devins," he sighs heavily, "and all those years I can't recall a line this blurred. I hate to say such a thing, such an unkind thing about a fellow man, but thinking about it, I couldn't see any reason for a man of his type to live amongst us. Now, I'm not saying what you did was right – or excusable – but I'm not exactly complaining either."
Sam starts to shed tears.
Walters continues, "And his days as a free man were numbered anyway."
"He'll make certain all the evidence is destroyed before I can get to it," says Sam.
"Maybe so, but if one was to … say … pin a certain murder on him-"
"Frame him for a murder I committed? Don't get me wrong – he's an evil human being who deserves his punishment and I can't wait for him to get it, but I can't do that. Two wrongs don't make a right."
"Son, you have to."
"His own trial will come, and-"
"No, it has to be this way."
"Why?" asks Sam.
"Mr. Devins, one day your daughter is going to wake up from that coma and she's gonna ask for her daddy. I can't live with myself knowing I'll have to look her in the eyes and say your execution was justified.
I once heard in a move, 'For once I'd like to enter my house justified'. I want to enter my house and know I've done something – the right thing, which I'll be remembered for. Like I said, once of these days, she's gonna wake up. And you damn well best be there."
PRESENT.
"LIAR!" shouts Jenkins in a thick southern accent.
Officers enter the courtroom. Walters wipes tears away, then replies, "In light of this evidence, I dismiss this case until such time as things can be sorted out. Bailiff, you are instructed to take Sheriff Jenkins into custody."
"NO!" the veins in his neck throb. He whips out his gun. Sam ducts, along with everyone else in the courtroom; Al too, out of habit.
"Just east up there, Tom," says the Bailiff as he approaches.
Jenkins cocks the weapon and aims at Sam for a moment.
"Back off!" his head jolts around to see four officers approaching; one draws some pepper spray and sneaks into range.
"Put the weapon down…" the bailiff says.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" and with that he aims and scatters his brains across the side of Judge Walters' desk.
Screams fill the room.
"Dear god!" Al exclaims.
Sam, under the desk, shakes. He gets up, "Your honor."
Judge Walters, shaken, rises up from behind the desk, while an officer is checking him.
"I declare myself to be a threat to my own safety and ask that I be remanded to the state institution until," closes his eyes and shudders, "…until such time as I am better."
"Would a bailiff please place Mr. Devins in handcuffs?"
Sam stands there in tears – tears of bittersweet victory, and comments, "It wasn't me."
Sam is engulfed in blue ripples of light. Brighter colored bolts of scattered lightening run across his body. The luminosity glares blindingly, then faces back and the light vanishes into him. The bolts dissipate.
He is still crying. He looks around. Though still foggy from the leap, things looked familiar.
"DADDY!"
He spins about and sees Catrina run over. She hugs him. Only dressed in her under cloths, Sam notices a strap hanging lose. He holds her tightly.
…TO BE CONTINUED…
(The conclusion of Part 1 of, "A Leap Into Terror")
