A/N: Sorry it took me so long to write this but I've been busy with other stories. I finally figured out how I'm going to finish it so I can write this. Thanx for all the reviews they help, sorry if I chewed you out Mercurious. Also all legal stuff I know I learned from John Grisham books and from watching "The Practice" so it may not be right.
Chapter 7 of 11: Legal Business
"Are you sure you told me the truth."
"Yes why is that so hard to believe?"
"You expect me to believe that after you touched the gun he shot himself. Then he had enough energy to throw the gun at you."
"Yes and he had gloves on so his prints didn't show up. You don't believe me either do you?"
"Well the only pieces of evidence that would help you aren't exactly going to get you out of here."
"What are they?"
"The fact that the gun belonged to Norton's father and his record. He is wearing gloves like you said so that will help. Otherwise everything else is pretty much against you."
"So you don't think I'm going to win this."
"Not without a miracle."
"Great."
"You have to go talk to the prosecutor now, no sarcasm."
"Fine."
Simon got up and was led into the questioning room. His parents were there and so was a man dressed in a suit. He sat down and the questioning began.
******
Simon didn't even look at his parents, as he was lead back to his cell. I don't hate them it's just I don't really forgive them either. I don't know what I think. Everything is too confusing. Basically nobody believes me except Deena and maybe Ruthie. The prosecutor hammered me for at least an hour. He must have expected me to confess. I wonder though if I was in someone else's shoes would I believe me. My parents were required to be there when I was questioned. I looked at their faces. Their expressions were blank but their eyes gave them away. They're not taking this very well but I think it's sinking in. I stare at the bars and they remind me once again of the poem I learned for class. I was supposed to recite it that day. I recite it over in my mind. "Behind Bars", what a fitting title.
*******
TBC
Authors Note: The poem doesn't really fit but here's how it goes:
My mother's phantom hovers here
Her forehead shines before my eyes
She might be thinking of me now
Dreaming
(Before my arrest
I drew letters in a book
New and old
And I painted roses
Grown with blood
While my mother was near me
Blessing my painting
I see her- on her face silence and loneliness now
And in the house silence and loneliness
My satchel is on the bookshelf
And my school uniform is on the hanger
I see her hand reaching out and brushing the dust from it
I follow her footsteps and listen to her thoughts
As I yearn for her arms and the light of day
Chapter 7 of 11: Legal Business
"Are you sure you told me the truth."
"Yes why is that so hard to believe?"
"You expect me to believe that after you touched the gun he shot himself. Then he had enough energy to throw the gun at you."
"Yes and he had gloves on so his prints didn't show up. You don't believe me either do you?"
"Well the only pieces of evidence that would help you aren't exactly going to get you out of here."
"What are they?"
"The fact that the gun belonged to Norton's father and his record. He is wearing gloves like you said so that will help. Otherwise everything else is pretty much against you."
"So you don't think I'm going to win this."
"Not without a miracle."
"Great."
"You have to go talk to the prosecutor now, no sarcasm."
"Fine."
Simon got up and was led into the questioning room. His parents were there and so was a man dressed in a suit. He sat down and the questioning began.
******
Simon didn't even look at his parents, as he was lead back to his cell. I don't hate them it's just I don't really forgive them either. I don't know what I think. Everything is too confusing. Basically nobody believes me except Deena and maybe Ruthie. The prosecutor hammered me for at least an hour. He must have expected me to confess. I wonder though if I was in someone else's shoes would I believe me. My parents were required to be there when I was questioned. I looked at their faces. Their expressions were blank but their eyes gave them away. They're not taking this very well but I think it's sinking in. I stare at the bars and they remind me once again of the poem I learned for class. I was supposed to recite it that day. I recite it over in my mind. "Behind Bars", what a fitting title.
*******
TBC
Authors Note: The poem doesn't really fit but here's how it goes:
My mother's phantom hovers here
Her forehead shines before my eyes
She might be thinking of me now
Dreaming
(Before my arrest
I drew letters in a book
New and old
And I painted roses
Grown with blood
While my mother was near me
Blessing my painting
I see her- on her face silence and loneliness now
And in the house silence and loneliness
My satchel is on the bookshelf
And my school uniform is on the hanger
I see her hand reaching out and brushing the dust from it
I follow her footsteps and listen to her thoughts
As I yearn for her arms and the light of day
