Chapter Fifteen The Trial, Part 2: What's Behind These Cold Eyes

"What the hell was that?" hissed Sara. She seemed beyond angry: she was pissed. But Greg didn't care. "We had him!" she continued. "He was going down! The jury was eating up Kampbell's prosecution like candy, and then you had to go and tell them that he's a good person!"

Greg looked back at her narrowed eyes. She didn't understand. But she would.

"We call Sara Sidle to the stand, please," called a voice. She turned to go, hoping to undo Greg's testimony.

"Sara."

She turned around. Greg was staring up at her with a pleading look in his eyes. "When you get up there," he said softly, "look at his face. Just...look at it. Before you go against him..."

Sara nodded, wondering what the hell he was talking about, and went off into the spotlight. She took her oath and then her seat at the stand. She looked out at all the faces of the crowd, but avoiding the defense table, even when the attorney came up to her. He asked her to state her name and then to spell it. She did so. Then he began with the questions.

"Miss Sidle, you also claim to have been abducted by my client?" asked Castor.

"That's correct. He tricked me into getting into his car." She stared straight ahead at him.

"Did he do this on his own?"

"No, he did not. Both of the Mason brothers played a part."

"Explain exactly how this happened, if you will."

"I was with my two co-workers, Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes, in a car, as we searched for Greg Sanders," Sara began, "and we got lost. We pulled over to ask for directions and I spotted two cars parked off on the side of the road. I found the two defendants standing close by the cars. I asked how to get to Carson City, which is where we believed Greg was. They told me that they were headed in that direction, too, and offered me a ride. I found this suspicious: why offer me a ride when it was obvious I had my own car? I took out my flashlight to see if one of these men was our suspect, when Mr. Mason - Roger - fell to his knees and began coughing violently."

"Did you follow procedure to get this man to the emergency room?" asked Castor.

"Yes...and no," Sara admitted. "I called for an ambulance, when Mr. Mason - the coughing one - asked me in a hoarse voice to take him there personally. It was clear that he might not make it if we waited for the ambulance, so I went into one of their cars and pulled back onto the road with both Masons in the back seat. David Mason told me to go down the I15 to get to the hospital."

"You just- took the car," Castor said, "without asking?"

"I was in a dire situation," Sara said. "And neither of them seemed to object to it, anyway. Nick and Warrick needed the car I came in to further follow the clues on finding Greg. What else was I expected to do?"

"You say David Mason is the one who gave you directions to the hospital?"

"Well..." said Sara, thinking. That was a difficult question. "He...told me where to go, but we never ended up getting there."

"Why did you feel that you were obligated to drive, Miss Sidle?" said Castor, now realizing he was on to something. "You didn't have to get in that car. There were two men. One of them could have driven the other."

"You mean, just leave them there and hope that they get to the hospital on time?" Sara shot back. "If I did that, you'd be persecuting me for it here, too. I did what I judged best to do. I intervened and I paid my price for it."

"Alright, Miss Sidle, if you insist your judgment was best," said Castor with a little bit of sarcasm in his tone. "However, you have still not explained how this qualifies as kidnaping."

"Once I got on the road, I felt something cold on the back of my neck," Sara said, indicating a small red mark on the back of her neck. "David Mason was holding a gun against me. And it was all due to that bastard tricking me into that car."

"Hold it," said Castor, putting up a hand. "You blame my client for what David Mason did to you in that car?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Sara, again avoiding looking at the defense table. In doing this, she glanced at Greg, who was shaking his head, urging her not to say what she was about to. She ignored him and proceeded. "I wouldn't have had to go through the entire ordeal that I did if it were not for that man, sitting there."

"But who are you to say," said Castor, advancing on the stand, "that my client's 'violent coughing' was false? Are you a doctor?"

"No," said Sara, "but-"

"Then how can you sit up here and tell the jury that you are positive he was only coughing in order to trick you into that car!"

Sara sat with her arms folded. "I'm not saying that I'm absolutely sure," she said. "But since he stopped as soon as his brother drew weapon on me, I can deduce that fact. He -" While saying these words, she had looked over at her kidnaper. At this, her words were cut short. Her mouth hung open slightly as she stared at Roger's eyes. One of them was nearly swelled closed, but the other showed disappointment. It said that he clearly didn't care in the least what happened to himSara sympathized with him...he wanted to get away so badly. Greg was right, he needed their help no matter how much he defied it. If he wasn't going to defend himself, who would?

"Yes, Miss Sidle?" asked Castor, still pending her unfinished answer.

"Never mind, Mr. Castor," she said. "Roger Mason did trick me into getting into the car, but he also helped me get out of it. After a few miles down the road, David Mason stepped out of the car for a smoke, leaving his brother with the gun to keep me from running away. Once the car got moving again, Roger Mason and I were in an agreement: he would help me get back to Las Vegas."

Castor looked up and smiled. "Tell the jury how he helped you out."

"He came up with a series of ingenious plans," she said, smiling. "Three, I think. The first two didn't work, but he had no choice but to use his third one. That one worked."

"Wait, I'm confused," said Castor, in a tone that suggested he wasn't actually confused, but recognizing how he could use this to his advantage. "I thought you escaped during a standoff between CSI Brown, Roger Mason, and David Mason. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes," said Sara. "I know that. But Roger Mason planned ahead to borrow my gun in case he needed to use it. I'm glad he did. Otherwise, I might not be here speaking to you right now."

"So, you say that the standoff at the end, where David Mason put a gun to your head," said Castor, "when my client shot him, that was in your defense?"

Sara thought a minute. It wasn't really...but it started that way. And now she saw that the fate of a lonely and abused man was in her own hands. "Yes," she answered confidently. "He drew the gun to save my life, and it worked."

Castor smiled broadly. "No further questions, Your Honor."

"Mr. Nadar, do you have any questions for this witness?" said Judge Saber.

Nadar nodded and stood up. David looked relived, but he watched carefully, sure that his lawyer was full of flaws.

"Miss Sidle," said Nadar, "you were driving the car."

"That's right, Mr. Nadar."

"If you were driving, how did you know that it was my client who held the gun against you?" he asked in one breath.

Sara raised her eyebrows. "It was my natural assumption," she answered. "First of all, he was the one who was threatening me. Second, he handed it off to Roger Mason when he got out of the car."

"Yes, but that wasn't until after you were a few miles out," said Nadar, getting his act together. "The first person to hold the gun might have been my client's brother. Then, he could have handed it to my client. They could have been handing it back and forth the entire time and you would not realize it."

"I think I would realize if -"

"You were facing forward, correct, Miss Sidle?" asked Nadar without waiting for an answer. "The only people who know what went on in the back seat were the defendants, and neither of them has taken the stand yet. Your testimony about who was holding the gun does not prove anything."

Sara was left speechless. She hated lawyers. She especially hated this lawyer. Skimming her eyes over the jury, she could see them muttering to each other again. Great.

"I have another question for you, if you don't mind," said Nadar.

"Actually, I do mind," said Sara, "but it's not like I can stop you from asking it, so go on."

Nadar ignored her rude comment. "You are a level-three CSI. Therefore, permitted to carry weaponry. Also, you stated that Roger Mason used your gun in attacking my client."

"Are you trying to ask why I didn't use my gun?"

Nadar nodded. "Yes. Why didn't you? You were absolutely obligated to."

"I couldn't exactly turn around while I was driving and shoot the person holding the arm on me," said Sara. "And if he saw I had a gun, he probably would have killed me before I could use it."

Nadar nodded again, and said, "So you were, so to speak, too afraid to take out your gun. And yet, my client claims that you were insulting him and his brother throughout the ordeal."

"Objection!" called both Castor and Kampbell.

"No further questions, Judge Saber," said Nadar, and he sat down, looking pleased with himself.

"If I may, Your Honor?" said Kampbell, who was still standing. Judge Saber nodded and he walked up to Sara. "Miss Sidle, I noticed that you changed your testimony halfway through a sentence. Are you familiar with the term 'bipolar disorder?'"

Sara was taken aback. She actually felt the urge to slap the prosecutor. "Objection!" yelled Castor. "Questioning the witness's mental state is highly unnecessary."

"Agreed," said the judge. "Mr. Kampbell, please rephrase your question."

"No, it's alright, Your Honor," said Sara angrily. "I'll answer his rude question. I have heard of the disorder, Mr. Kampbell, but it does not affect me in any way. I changed my testimony because I realized how much Roger Mason helped me. But next time, Mr. Kampbell, please try phrasing your questions so that it doesn't make you sound like a complete ass."

There were a few small gasps from the crowd and jury. As she looked over the courtroom, she saw that both Greg and Roger were laughing. The smile brought life to Roger's bruised and beaten face, and made Sara proud of her defense for him.

It was clear to all that Kampbell did not like Sara. But in a courtroom during a case was not the time nor place to be picking on a witness: he needed her to clear this case. He cleared his throat. "He helped you...how exactly did he do this again?"

"A series of plans," she answered, smiling.

"And what were these 'plans' you speak so highly of?" he asked. "Please, tell us."

Sara put a hand to her mouth. "The first one..." she said slowly, "he pretended to be thirsty. When he drank down all the water in the car, he asked David Mason to get some water from the trunk."

"And...water helped you?" said Kampbell in real confusion.

"Well, it was clear to me," said Sara, "that he was hoping that David would get out of the car by himself. Once he got out, I could drive away, leaving him behind."

"Clear to you," Kampbell repeated. "I've never heard of anything less clear. How can you be sure that your interpretation was his actual intentions?"

"What else would they be?" Sara said, forcing a laugh to make Kampbell's accusation sounds ridiculous.

"Perhaps he was really thirsty," shrugged Kampbell.

Sara shook her head. "No, no...he was forcing it down in the car. He was definitely planning something."

"Alright, alright," said the prosecutor. "Tell me, why didn't this plan work?"

"David Mason caught on," said Sara sadly. "He found it suspicious that Roger asked him specifically to go get it. David then suggested that I go get it, and I was forced to go around to the trunk, looking for it. It was then that Roger came out with us and came up with his second scheme."

"And, pray tell, what was this one?"

"This time, he tried to get me to fall into the trunk," she said. "And then he would drive off before David had time to get back into the car."

Kampbell jumped at an opportunity here. "Tried to get you in the trunk? He knows there's no air in there! He wasn't trying to help you out. He was trying to suffocate you!"

"No way!" said Sara. "If he was trying to kill me, he would have done it already. Besides, it's not like he tried to push me in the trunk."

"If you insist," said Kampbell, "but trying to get you in the trunk of a car isn't going to look good no matter how you put it. What's the third one?"

Sara swallowed. He was going to get her on this one. "He took my jacket. The one that had my gun in it." Kampbell shouted "aha!" but Sara interjected, "Keep in mind he used it to save me!"

"What he did in the end doesn't matter!" cried Kampbell. "He took your gun, your only defense. If he was really trying to help you, don't you think he would have let you keep the gun?"

"When he had the gun," Sara said, standing up, "when we were on the side of the road, he could have killed me. There was no one around, but he didn't! He didn't even keep me at bay with that gun, he just held it at the side! And then he agreed to help me-"

"But as Mr. Sanders' testimony said," continued Kampbell, "Roger Mason threw his gun aside because he didn't want to go to jail. And that could be the reason he helped you - because he didn't want to go to jail -"

"Objection!" screamed Castor. "He's leading the witness!"

"Please, Your Honor," called Kampbell, "I am not leading her. I am merely making logical conclusions from the things that the witnesses themselves have said previously." He turned back to Sara. "Miss Sidle. Could it be the only reason that Roger Mason was helping you is because he didn't want to go to jail?"

"No, that's not -"

"What makes you so sure it's not? It's only, human after all. Who wants to go to jail?"

"He wants to go to jail," said Sara, pointing at Roger Mason. The attorneys stopped shouted at each other, Judge Saber stopped banging her gavel, the jury stopped their incessant muttering, and the crowd fell silent. Roger blushed. "He told me last week that he wants to go to jail. He was only helping me because it was the right thing to do."

"But if he really wanted to go to jail," said Kampbell, trying not to lose his head again, "then why didn't he kill Greg? Or you? Hell -" he cut off. "If he really wanted to go to jail, why hasn't he pleaded guilty?"

"No idea," said Sara. "Ask him. After all, I do believe it's his turn to take the stand."