Chapter 12

After over a month, the jury was no closer to a verdict. The foreman had persuaded six other jurors to go along with his suggestion of averaging their individual verdicts together, which came out to a judgment of $190,265.29 against the Titans. However, four others insisted on entirely acquitting the Titans, while another refused to settle for less than 100 percent culpability.

Finally, at 4:30 in the afternoon of July 11, the door to the jury room swung open and the foreman walked out.

"Have you reached a verdict?" the bailiff asked.

"No."

The next morning, sitting at his dining table for breakfast, Aaron Zapater picked up the Jump City Tribune and scanned the front page. At the top was a headline: "HUNG JURY IN TITAN TRIAL." He laid the paper on the table in front of his bowl of cereal and continued reading the main article as he spooned some cereal and soymilk into his mouth.

The phone rang. Aaron swiveled around in his chair, grabbing the phone off its hook on the wall.

"Hello?"

"I'm looking for a Mr. Aaron Zapater, is he available?"

"This is he. Who's speaking?"

"My name is Sam Wilson and I have a business proposition for you."

"Go on."

"First, Mr. Zapater, understand that everything has to be absolutely confidential. This phone might be tapped. Give me your address and I'll knock on your door tomorrow at noon."

Two months after the first trial ended with a hung jury, a much-publicized retrial was held. In the second run of Zapater v. Grayson, Aaron Zapater made his case as eloquently as before, but the jury was very different. After five days of deliberation, the jury returned a verdict. The Titans were one tenth of a percent liable for Aaron's injury and the six hijackers were 99.9 percent responsible. The Titans would have to pay Aaron $341.50 in damages.

Earlier in the afternoon that day, just after the court's decision had been announced, reporters swarmed the Zapater mansion to hear the eloquent lawyer's reaction to his defeat. He offered the reporters a few sound bites and confirmed that he intended to appeal the decision. "I believe my case truly has merit," the newspapers would quote him the next day, "I will appeal up to the Supreme Court if necessary."

Aaron was as good as his word. He filed every appeal he could, and the courts at each of the next levels ruled against him. On October 3, the United States Supreme Court refused to hear Aaron's appeal, thus upholding the lower court's verdict. That day Aaron's mailbox included a check from the Teen Titans for $341.50, ending the case.

The next day, after eating some muffins and a cup of coffee for breakfast, Aaron put on his cheapest T-shirt and jeans and strolled out of his house bright and early. It was only 7:15 a.m. and the sun had just risen. Aaron walked all the way around the block, and then turned back towards his own house.

He passed the house of his next-door neighbor and it happened that she was in the process of digging up weeds in the flower bed in front of her house. "Hi Aaron!" she turned and greeted him warmly.

"Hi Mary," he returned the greeting, and a second later a terrifying dark figure with a half-orange mask charged over from across the street, tackling Aaron to the ground. The masked man started punching and kicking Aaron as he lay helpless on the ground. "HELP!" he shouted. Mary stood frozen for a moment, horrified at the spectacle. Then she dashed for her door to call the police. The attacker stopped her by quickly flinging an electric disk. The disk sailed in an arc towards the door, landing on Mary's shoulder as she reached the door and releasing a surge of whitish current. She collapsed in a heap in her open doorway, unconscious. Meanwhile, the Slade figure continued pounding and kicking Aaron, who continued screaming for help. Any other civilians in the neighborhood that came within sight immediately retreated.

A few minutes later, the blue-and-white-patterned T-car screeched to a stop about twenty yards away. The Teen Titans jumped out and rushed towards the attack...

But they hesitated when they suddenly recognized the victim. It was the ungrateful plaintiff who had sued them months ago, Aaron Zapater!

Aaron looked up at the Titans, schooling his bloody and bruised face into a look of pleading. "Help!" he croaked. Slade, standing over him, kicked him again in the stomach. The Titans heard a dull thud and a few more drops of red trickled from Aaron's mouth. Robin waved off his teammates, signaling them to stay where they were.

Robin stood off to the side and crossed his arms, smirking evilly. "But we're incompetent, as you said. We're negligent. Maybe the police would help you better." Aaron's injured face contorted into a look of outrage, but he was helpless.

"Here, we'll even call the police for you," Robin said gleefully. "Cyborg, call the police to get over here. Let's go home."

"What?" Raven whirled around to stare open-mouthed at Robin.

"But we can't--" Cyborg looked at Robin in similar shock. "Robin, we're not going to leave him to Slade!"

Slade, upon seeing that the Titans weren't going to stop him, kicked Aaron again, rolling him over so that his face was on the concrete. Slade then drew out his bowstaff and slowly, deliberately, methodically started whipping Aaron on the buttocks. Aaron screamed.

"We can and we will--" Robin started to declare, but Cyborg cut him off with, "He could be dead by the time the police get here! We have a duty--"

"Call the police, Cyborg! That's an order! Titans, fall back!"