Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.
A/N: Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.
This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)
Thank you for all the well wishes. It was not a good start to the year as I had to put my beloved cat down on New Year's Day. His cancer took over and even though it was the humane thing to do, it still was very difficult.
This chapter is pretty much all "Ryan". I wanted to devote the trial to his character and not have too many other distractions.
Please remember this story is AU after the model home fire. For example, Ryan never went to cotillion, he's not even dating Marissa nor is he attending Harbor. So, what happened between Ryan and Trey at the end of season two doesn't pertain to this story because that revolved around Marissa.
I'm writing Ryan's and Trey's relationship as strained but the fact that they are brothers gives them a very special bond. This is something I tried to create in "A Bitter Pill" along with a back story for Trey. They do care about each other and the last thing Ryan would ever want is his brother getting hurt or killed.
I get the impression that some readers don't care much for Trey, Kirsten and Seth but, in this story, Ryan cares about them very much. This will be a guiding factor regarding his behavior.
Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)
Chapter Four
"The State calls Ryan Atwood to the stand."
Ryan walks down the aisle towards the front of the courtroom. He concentrates on his breathing. In and out. Slow and steady. He doesn't know if he's ever been this nervous in his life. He wishes he could turn around and bolt out the door. But he can't. So he keeps walking. And he keeps breathing.
In and out... slow and steady...
Ryan glances around the courtroom. All eyes are on him. He feels completely naked. He rubs his sweaty palms on the sides of his legs and notes he is wearing clothes. Ryan was relieved when Sandy told him he didn't have to wear a suit; just a pair of nice pants, a button-down shirt and a sport coat. A tie would have been suffocating.
I'm already choking on my anxiety...
Ryan glances to his left. He sees the back of Bob Stankey's head; round and balding with a large port wine stain birthmark on his scalp. He notes the man is wearing a charcoal gray suit, most likely to show the jury he's an upstanding guy. He'd never hurt a kid.
Hope the tie strangles him...
Ryan finally makes it to the front of the courtroom. He walks to the witness stand and immediately hears the bailiff's commanding voice.
"Please raise your right hand."
Ryan raises his right hand. He feels the anxiety welling up inside him. He wonders if Stankey can tell how much he's perspiring.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I do."
Ryan hears the words come out of his mouth, but they seem distant, as if someone else is saying them. He lowers his right hand and sits down on the witness stand. He notes the impeccably polished, dark-stained cherry wood, and a microphone situated in front of him.
Ryan breathes a short sigh of relief, grateful that the front of the witness stand is higher than his seat. It will block the view of his lap.
No one will be able to see how much my hands are shaking.
"Please state your full name for the record."
Ryan leans forward and answers quietly into the microphone, "Ryan Francis Atwood."
Ryan briefly glances over at the judge. He guesses the man to be in his late fifties with his graying hair and thick lines etching his face, most likely due to a lifelong habit of smoking or stress from the job. Possibly both. He then warily glances over towards the defense attorney, a middle-aged woman with deep frown lines furrowed into the sides of her mouth. The woman looks as if she hasn't smiled in decades.
Probably from defending creeps like Stankey...
Ryan then looks out at the courtroom and immediately spots Sandy and Kirsten, both offering their heartfelt, encouraging smiles. How he hates the thought of disappointing them. They deserve so much better.
Kirsten leans in towards Sandy and whispers, "He's so nervous. I'm worried, Sandy. Is he going to be alright?"
"Don't worry, honey," Sandy whispers back, trying to allay his wife's concern as well as his own. "We knew he would be nervous testifying. It's only natural."
Sandy places his hand over Kirsten's hand and squeezes gently, offering some support. But he can't seem to shake a sense of foreboding, a feeling that something is about to go very wrong. He's confused as to why the defense attorney hasn't cross-examined any witnesses thus far; not the Medical Examiner or Sheriff Hicks.
It doesn't make any sense, Sandy thinks to himself. He can come up with at least a handful of questions he would have asked, but the defense has, so far, remained quiet.
"Mr. Nolan, you may begin."
"Thank you, Your Honor," the State Prosecutor says as he rises from his seat while straightening up a stack of papers.
"First of all, Ryan, I want to thank you for being here this morning."
Ryan nods his head in a silent gesture. His stomach twists and churns. He tries to swallow but his throat is bone dry. He had one slice of toast topped with strawberry jam for breakfast. He would hate to throw that up.
Ryan notices a glass of water sitting in a cubbyhole inside the witness stand.
"Feel free to take a drink," the judge states in a slightly raspy voice, sensing the boy is nervous. "That's why the glass of water is there."
Ryan picks up the glass of water. His hands shake mercilessly as he raises the glass to his dry lips. He takes a welcome sip of the fluid then carefully returns the glass to its perch, thankful he didn't spill the contents all over himself.
"Do you need a few moments, Ryan?" Mike Nolan asks, concerned about the boy's level of nervousness. A person would have to be blind not to notice.
Ryan studies the State Prosecutor, a man around Sandy's age with an uncanny resemblance to Kevin Costner from the movie Thirteen Days.
"Um no... I'm fine."
"All right then," Mike Nolan states as he prepares to question his star witness. "Ryan, you stayed at the Chino Hills Group Home for Boys for one month a little over a year ago, is this correct?"
"Yes."
"And during that time, Tyler Jansen was also staying there?"
"Yes."
"So you knew Tyler, correct?"
"Yes."
"Would you say you were friends?"
"Um... no. We weren't really friends," Ryan states in a soft voice. "We just knew each other."
"So acquaintances then," Mike Nolan clarifies.
"Yes."
Ryan clenches his sweaty palms together. He doesn't dare take another sip of water. The glass would slip right through his wet, trembling grip.
"A little over three months ago, you gave a statement to Sheriff Ray Hicks regarding Tyler Jansen's suicide."
"Yes."
"You then testified in front of a grand jury regarding your statement. Is this true?"
"Um... yes."
"I'd like to submit the statement into evidence, Your Honor," the prosecutor says as he approaches the bench and hands the judge the piece of paper.
Mike Nolan returns to his table and glances down at his notes as he prepares to ask his next question.
"In your statement, Ryan, you said that on your last day at the group home Tyler Jansen confided in you. He told you the defendant, Bob Stankey," the prosecutor states, pausing for effect while pointing over to the defense table, "was withholding his medication from him..."
"Objection, Your Honor!" the Defense Attorney emphatically states while abruptly rising from her chair. "Hearsay."
"Overruled," the judge quickly states. "This is a sworn statement that has been placed into evidence. You'll have your chance to cross-examine the witness."
The defense attorney lets out an irritated huff and sits back down, the indelible scowl on her face etching deeper, not liking the judge's decision. The judge clearly seems to be favoring the teenager. She knows her client has been telling her not to worry. "There's no way I'm gonna be convicted," she remembers him telling her. But, she knows if she can't get the evidence thrown out, Bob Stankey will be facing the next twenty years behind bars.
"You may continue, Counselor."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Mike Nolan says as he runs his hand down his paisley silk tie and quickly gathers his thoughts. He doesn't like being interrupted, although he's more than happy with this opportunity to repeat the end of his last question.
"Ryan, you said in your statement that Tyler told you Bob Stankey was withholding his medication from him. Vital, much needed medication for treating depression and bi-polar disorder. Is this correct?"
Ryan peers down at his lap. He rubs his sweaty palms on his pants, but it doesn't help.
"Ryan, could you please answer the question?" Mike Nolan studies the boy and suddenly becomes worried. "Did Tyler Jansen tell you Bob Stankey was withholding his medication?"
Ryan sees flashes of the pictures from the manilla envelope jump in front of his eyes. Kirsten getting into her Land Rover, Seth on his skateboard... the makeshift knife. He immediately closes his eyes but only sees black. He shudders from the memory of the hood being pulled over his head; the thick, rough burlap smelling of stale smoke and cheap whiskey that permeated his nostrils; the feeling of a muzzle of a gun being pressed against his temple; the voice of a stranger threatening three people he cares deeply about.
I have to keep them safe...
Ryan swallows down the bile rising in his throat and slowly opens his eyes as perspiration begins beading on his forehead.
I don't matter... But they do. They matter.
Ryan knows he's expendable.
"Ryan, could you please answer the question?" Mike Nolan asks with more urgency in his voice.
I can't let anything happen to them... Tyler is gone. I can't bring him back.
Ryan feels Stankey staring at him, the man's beady eyes burning two gaping holes into his chest. He doesn't dare look over at him.
"Mr. Atwood, you need to answer the question," the judge states, prompting the witness.
Again Mike Nolan repeats his pivotal question. "Did Tyler Jansen tell you Bob Stankey was withholding his medication?"
Ryan closes his eyes again, lowers his head and utters the only word he can.
"No."
Mike Nolan gasps. He can't believe what he has just heard.
"Ryan, maybe you didn't understand what I asked..."
"I understood," Ryan answers solemnly, lowering his head down even further.
Ryan hears the commotion in the courtroom. He wants to look at Sandy and Kirsten but he can't. He feels too ashamed.
"Permission to approach the witness, Your Honor," the prosecutor cries out. He needs to talk directly to the boy. He needs to find out why he's lying.
"You may approach the witness," the judge states, curious about what has just transpired.
Mike Nolan quickly makes his way up front, places his hand over the microphone and leans in close to his witness. "Ryan, do you understand what perjury is? Do you realize that lying under oath is a felony?"
Ryan keeps his head lowered and softly replies, "Yes."
"I don't understand. We practiced. We went through all of this..."
"Your Honor, the witness has already answered the question," the Defense Attorney states, becoming more confident. She is quite pleased with how the testimony has transpired.
"I agree," the Judge says. "Counselor, do you have any more questions for this witness?"
Mike Nolan runs his hand over his beleaguered face. He returns to his table and sits down, literally at a complete loss. He then feels someone's hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to turn around. It's Sandy Cohen.
"Ask him if he's answering under duress," Sandy whispers to the attorney. "He's lying. And I know Ryan. He doesn't lie unless there's a very good reason."
Mike Nolan nods his head to Sandy and watches the man quietly return to his seat and sit down next to his visibly shaken wife.
"I have one more question, Your Honor," the prosecutor states as he stands back up. "Ryan, were you under any sort of duress when you answered "no" to my last question?"
Ryan feels sick to his stomach. Of course he answered under duress. Everyone knows he's lying. But he can't admit it. He can't take the chance. Spending the next couple of years in juvie or maybe even prison is a small price to pay to keep three people safe.
"No," Ryan replies softly with his head still lowered. "I'm..." Ryan pauses a moment, then sighs. "I'm not under duress."
Ryan hears another wave of commotion from the onlookers and jumps slightly when the judge pounds his gavel, calling for order in his courtroom.
"I have no further questions, Your Honor," Mike Nolan sighs in defeat. There's no more he can do. The damage has been done.
"Defense, would you like to cross-examine?" the judge asks.
"Yes, Your Honor. Very much so."
Ryan winces at the sheer confidence in the Defense Attorney's voice. And he knows exactly what she's going to ask.
"Ryan, you have admitted that the statement you gave to Sheriff Hicks is false. If this correct?"
Ryan rubs his sweaty palms on his lap, then softly replies, "Yes."
"And, under oath, you lied to the Grand Jury stating that my client, Bob Stankey, had withheld medication from Tyler Jansen. Is this also correct?"
Ryan tries to swallow but his throat is bone dry. He concentrates on his breathing. In and out. Slow and steady. It doesn't help.
"Yes," Ryan answers, almost in a whisper.
"Your Honor, I respectfully request that Mr. Atwood's statement and all evidence attained through the search warrant that was issued in response to Mr. Atwood's statement be thrown out."
"Objection, Your Honor!" Mike Nolan cries out as he abruptly stands up. "That evidence was attained legally..."
"Overruled," the judge states emphatically. "It is now clear that the search warrant was issued on false information, therefore all evidence attained through the warrant must be thrown out. The Medical Examiner's report, testimony from Sheriff Ray Hicks as well as the actual statement will no longer be in evidence."
"I have no further questions, Your Honor," the Defense Attorney says smugly.
The judge glances back over at the State Prosecutor. "Counselor, do you have any other evidence? Any other witnesses to call?"
"No, Your Honor," Mike Nolan says, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice but failing miserably. "The State has nothing more."
Ryan still keeps his head lowered. He can't look up. He doesn't dare look at anyone. All he wants to do is leave. Then he hears the judge address him directly.
"Mr. Atwood, you have admitted to lying under oath to the Grand Jury and therefore I have no choice but to charge you with the crime of perjury. Officer, you may escort Mr. Atwood out."
Ryan stands up on shaky legs and quickly grabs the witness stand to keep from falling. When he regains his balance, he places his hands behind his back and winces slightly when the officer places the cold handcuffs around his wrists. He knows the procedure. He's done this before.
I'll be fine...
As the officer walks him towards the exit, Ryan slowly raises his head and warily glances over at Bob Stankey. He sees a smug grin emerge on the man's face with the unnerving look of a predator eyeing its prey. Ryan immediately looks away and continues walking out of the courtroom. He listens to the officer drone on about his Miranda rights. He then wonders what Sandy and Kirsten could be thinking. How disappointed they must be in him. But he's an Atwood. His father, brother and mother are all behind bars. It was just a matter of time before he joined them.
They deserve so much better...
The Defense Attorney immediately stands up and makes her plea. "Your Honor, it is clear that without the statement and evidence from the search warrant, the State does not have a case. Therefore, I respectfully ask that the charges against my client, Bob Stankey, be dropped."
Again, commotion besets the courtroom and again the judge pounds his gavel.
"I agree," the Judge states. "Without the evidence, the State cannot prove its case. And without further evidence and witnesses produced by the State, I must rule that the charge of murder in the second degree due to depraved indifference is dropped. Mr. Stankey, you are free to go."
Ryan hears the gavel again as he's escorted down the hall to booking. He can do a couple of years in prison. When he gets out, he'll be eighteen. The Cohen's won't have to be responsible for him anymore. He'll be able to just disappear and they'll be able to get on with their lives.
I don't matter. But they do... they matter.
Ryan steps into the elevator with the police officer and watches the door slowly close in front of him.
He knows he's expendable.
At least I know they'll be safe now.