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"You think because I look like a monster it is inevitable that I should behave like one."
He was immediately arraigned, a black mask firmly in place as he stood beside his public defender. Behind him, Erik could hear his mother, crying piteously.
She was not crying because her son was being tried for murder.
No...Madison Ramsey had found a sympathetic eye in the media spotlight, given her remarkable performance as the mother of an ungrateful, sadistic child. Erik had watched her wailing figure as Ethan drug her into the courthouse, away from the cameras that eagerly captured her beautiful, betraying face.
"Erik Alexander Ramsey, do you understand these charges as I have read them to you?" the Judge asked, staring down from her pulpit.
"Yes," he answered in a monotone voice.
"And how do you plead?"
The murmurs in the courtroom earned an immediate banging of the gavel.
"Silence! If I do not have order in my court, I will have those few that remain escorted out of here! Mr. Ramsey, how do you plead?"
Guilty, guilty, guilty. The words rang out in his mind. He'd wanted to kill Phillip that night. Wanted it...and somehow it had happened. Somehow he'd cut his throat and not even known it, somehow his hands were covered in blood.
What would she think of him now? Christine, so beautiful in her simple skirt and blouse as she stayed outside on the porch, talking with Meg. He could have easily joined her instead of going inside, with everyone staring. The only reason he had gone to that damned party...the only reason he'd continued to go to school occasionally was because of her. He could have dropped out and gotten his diploma another way...but it would have meant letting her go.
Even though he knew nothing could ever come of his affection for Christine, he had stayed, continuing to watch, to listen.
"Not guilty," he finally said.
The order of the court was broken, and Erik was led back to his cell to await the trial.
"How well did you know this boy?" Gus Dally asked his daughter as they left the courthouse.
"Not at all," she replied softly. "No one knows him. He doesn't ever speak to anyone."
"Is he...was he ever violent before that night?"
"No, Papa," Christine said, glancing up at her father. Erik had never been violent at school. He was extremely quiet, very shy, and always sad. Sometimes she caught him staring at her, and once or twice it seemed he wanted to speak, but he never had. "Why? Are you thinking of representing him?"
Gus looked up as Erik Ramsey walked down the stairs amid screams from reporters, his head down, his shoulders hunched, his hands covering the mask and face alike. So young, and so filled with tragedy. Thankfully his daughter had not actually witnessed the death of her classmate, and Gus was equally glad that she had not seen Erik Ramsey stripped defenseless. He wondered what lay behind the mask, although somehow it no longer mattered. As a parent, he had heard plenty of complaints from teachers and other parents alike about the boy who was in all ways, quite simply odd, but had never given much thought to the boy himself.
Now it seemed he was on his own...at such a young age. Something beckoned Gus Dally...aroused two decades worth of fighting for justice. If anyone needed a champion, it was Erik.
"Would it bother you if I did?" he questioned, his tone hesitant.
God only knew why he was offering. Although he was a trial lawyer, he tended to stay away from high profile cases like this. Especially ones that would directly involve his daughter. She could be called as a witness in this, in which case he would be forced to find co-counsel to question her. From the statement Christine had given police, she had been standing outside talking to Meg Greene when the screaming began and a blood soaked Erik ran out another door into the yard. If she were able to offer anything, it would be minor.
"Could you help him?" Christine asked.
Gus turned away from the sight of Erik climbing into the back of a prison van, and looked at his daughter. "Do you think he meant to kill that boy?"
She shook her head without hesitating.
"Then I will help him, Christine," Gus said.
And thus he sealed Erik's fate...and that of his daughter's...forever.
"Ramsey, your new attorney is here."
Erik glanced up, his eyes narrowing on the bald little man in a black suit. "Another one already? My, this just keeps getting better and better."
"Open the door," the man said quietly.
"Sir, I don't think that's a good idea," the guard said nervously.
"Open the door," he repeated, his tone indicating he would not accept anything less than immediate compliance.
Erik swung his long legs over the side of the bed, on his feet as he recognized Christine's father. "Mr. Dally!" he exclaimed without thinking.
Gus stepped through the door in surprise. "You know who I am?"
Behind the mask, those yellow eyes became guarded. "You are Christine Dally's father," he stated, unemotionally this time. "I've seen you pick her up from school."
"Sir, I wouldn't recommend going inside there. He's an animal," the guard said, refusing to close the door.
"He's just a boy," Gus said sharply, and reached out and closed it himself. "Go away, I need to speak with my client."
"It's your funeral," he muttered, and locked the door before leaving.
Gus returned his gaze to Erik, who was standing with his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Ignoring the tension and hostility emanating from his thin figure, Gus sat down on the narrow cot and removed a tape recorder from his soft leather briefcase. "I wanted to leave you a notepad and some paper, but the guards said you were not allowed to have pencils any longer. Care to tell me about that?"
"My first attorney recommended it to the warden," Erik said, glancing away. "Why are you here? Are you really...are you really my new lawyer?"
"Yes, if you will let me," Gus answered, studying the unnatural yellowed skin of Erik's neck, then the skeletal hands that still remained clenched. "You do know that my daughter was there that night, don't you?"
Erik visibly tensed. "I saw her," he said vaguely.
"Phillip Chaney's girlfriend, a Miss Kate Sorelli, saw what happened. She said that you didn't attack Phillip Chaney from behind, as the prosecution is claiming. She said that you were underneath him, being hit in the face."
"Maybe she lied," Erik replied with a shrug. "It hardly matters. They're going to condemn me. The Chaney's are a powerful family...and I did kill him."
"Why would she lie? Phillip was her boyfriend. And I like to believe that justice can be served, no matter what parties are involved."
Erik resisted the urge to call him a fool. He'd heard this before from three different public defenders in as many months. 'Trust the system' they would say, only to have the prosecution draw on his obvious mental instability, caused by his birth defect. His trial was set to begin in a week, and there was nothing in his defense except the testimony of one girl, Phillip's girlfriend, and his own word, which meant nothing.
"I'll need you to give me your testimony first. I will leave this tape recorder and you may go over it tonight. We'll pick it apart tomorrow, discard what is not necessary; strengthen what is. I'd like to speak to some of your relatives, if it's possible..."
"Yeah," Erik laughed bitterly. "Go speak to my mother. You'll find her at a bar called Brick's under the interstate."
Gus could hardly be surprised by this. Erik lived in a very rough section of town, and from what he had seen of Madison Ramsey, was not to his liking. She was a complete sot, and came to the courtroom every day with bleached hair and makeup caked on so thick that it seemed to grease everything about her face. Black eyes, coated with black mascara that ran down her face at the whim of tears, making her look somewhat like a weeping evangelists' wife.
"What about your father?"
"If you can find out who he is, then you are more than welcome to speak with him," Erik replied simply. "Or you can talk to Ethan. He's the closest thing to a father I will ever have."
At this, he seemed to be smiling behind that mask, but Gus did not think it was in fondness. Ethan Little, who in no way resembled his name, had to be only a slightly better candidate for parent than Madison. From what Gus could tell, he was not nearly as in the bottle as much as Erik's mother, but seemed to be constantly suppressing an urge to hit something.
"Would you care to tell me what happened that night? In your own words, of course," Gus prompted.
"It won't matter, Mr. Dally," Erik said quietly. "They won't believe anything I say over that of the people at that party."
"You forget that my daughter was there-"
"Even if there were anything useful for Christine to add, they will claim that as my attorney, you have told her what to say."
The direct gaze was unnerving, and Gus shook himself slightly. "She gave her testimony before I offered my services. If the judge does not have a problem with my representing you, then I see no conflict of interest on my part."
"Why do you want to represent me?" Erik demanded suddenly, straightening to his full height. "You have no idea whether I am truly guilty or not, so why? Is this an attempt to boost your career, Mr. Dally? Because I assure you, that will not happen! I am going to be in jail for the rest of my life!"
"Not if you cooperate with me, and help your defense in the process," Gus said mildly, disturbed by the loss of reality that fled so quickly from Erik's eyes. "I will leave you the tape recorder. Take your time – not too much time – the trial is coming up quickly. I need to know everything, Erik. From the time they extended the invitation, until the time of the...tragic accident."
"Accident?" Erik scoffed. "Is that what you think will get me out of this? Claim it was an accident, and everything will turn out fine? Mr. Dally, you are mistaken."
"It was not premeditated, was it?"
Erik glared at him. "No."
"Then it was in self defense. Had that been a regular bottle, not a broken one, then Mr. Chaney might have had a terrible headache, nothing more. It was unfortunate, then, that the bottle was broken, something you would not have known as you were getting the senses beaten out of you. Therefore...an accident," Gus stated firmly. "I know this is hard for you. I believe that you did not willingly commit murder."
Erik looked away, feeling strange inside. "You shouldn't believe that. You shouldn't ever think that about me."
Gus knew before this was over, his heart was going to break from this boy. There was everything and nothing to say to comfort him; the right words eluded him even though he could form what needed to be said. Had anyone ever taken a chance on him? Was the entire world to hate him, for something he could not control?
"Erik...I would also like to see your medical records. I suppose I will need your mother's permission to-"
"No!"
Startled, Gus got to his feet, staring up at the boy who towered over him by at least a foot. "It will help your case..."
"I will not allow myself to be dicussed in that manner!" he snapped. "Find another way."
"The prosecution will use it to their advantage," Gus said, his gaze softening. "I think it would be best if we had someone talk to you; perform tests."
"Tests?" Erik repeated, his tone deceptively soft. "Tests, Mr. Dally? I assure you, there will be no tests."
"I meant psychological tests...not physical tests," Gus amended quickly. "Surely you have no problem with that? I've spoken to your teachers. They assure me you are quite intelligent."
Erik shrugged one shoulder. "There is nothing remarkable about my intelligence."
"You've attended school roughly ten percent of the school year, and passed each midterm with perfect scores. There appears to be nothing beyond your grasp. What I can't find are records from your previous schools..."
"You won't either," Erik replied coolly. "No one will."
Gus was again unnerved by his assuredness, by the calmness that could vanish without any warning at all. There was something dark within this boy, and Gus could tell the struggle was almost over. If Erik was truly innocent of this crime, then he would do everything in his power to ensure the boy was set free. It was the least that he could do.
The boy was already imprisoned in one way or another.