Chapter 17- The Trial
Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations
Say what you need to say
~John Mayer: Say~
"Order! Order! I will have order in this court today or God help me you will all be in jail before this trial is over." The judge calls over the hum of the crowd, taking several minutes for the room to become silent. The judge then went over the routine court proceedings and the accused charges
"Kathleen Margaret Astaire is being held on trial for the charges of aggravated assault on a public servant, fleeing a crime scene, and vandalizing public property, which is punishable by a minimum of five years in prison and a maximum of life in prison without parole," The judge says in his monotone voice dripping with authority, and then went on to address the lawyers, "Prosecution, you may now make your opening statements."
The other lawyer, Mr. Moriarty, begins to speak, "Not only is this child being tried in court today, but has a long history with our legal system. In fact, she was put on trial when she was eight years old. Here is where we must ask: will we allow the children to run this city? Or can we take back the reins of New York by punishing those who deserve it…" He speaks for at least another fifteen minutes but it all sounds like lies to me, so I zoned out after the first three sentences. It took me a while, but I soon realize that this man, Mr. Moriarty, is the same person who wrote the newspaper article about me. I recognize his name from the byline.
"Mr. Moriarty, let us not forget that no child may be tried twice for a crime already addressed in court," Estella tells him with a chuckle. She then went on to give my back story and other intriguing details to help my case. I then took the stand to testify for the court.
"Kate, can you please explain the morning that the incident took place?" I explain to her the same things I did the previous day, careful in how I phrase my wording so nothing would be controversial.
"So it seems, as if Mr. Dunnigan was in as much of the wrong as you were. Now, you mentioned the weapon you used in self-defense was a wine bottle. Was this wine bottle empty or full?
"It was bone dry at the time."
"So it is safe to assume that Mr. Dunnigan could have very well been under the influence at the time, therefore impairing his normal thought process. According to section 35.05 of the law of self-defense, while the conduct was initially provoked by my client, the plaintiff was not under ordinary standards of intelligence and mortality. In addition to Mr. Dunnigan's lack of a moral compass, the desirability and urgency of the situation clearly outweigh the original instigator of the altercation, which then justifies the claim of self-defense." She then asks her next question, "And you your intentions were to leave the factory after the incident originally. Is that correct?
"Yes. There were no other means of leaving the factory during the day except by breaking a window. The doors are locked during all hours."
"Shocking and truly tragic," Estella empathized, "but if there were other means of leaving the factory, such as a door, that would not have caused property to be broken, would you have used them?"
"Yes."
"That is all, your honor."
"The prosecution may now approach the stand."
"Ms. Astaire, you claim that my client, Mr. Dunnigan, came at you with a heated iron poker. Was there anyone to witness this at the time.?"
"No, but-"
"And you are aware that after the event in question you left, not telling anyone that Mr. Dunnigan was hurt?"
"Yes, but-"
"And then you claim my client continued to threaten and harass you?"
"Yeah, my friends-"
"So, it was not you he threatened, but your friends?"
"Well, it was about me."
"How do you know it was Mr. Dunnigan who was threatening you? Could he have not, perhaps, been framed?" Mr. Moriarty poses. "My dear, while your story is rather persuasive none of those things can be proved. They are as much fiction as the idea of a man walking on the moon. We need facts."
"You can't deny the fact that innocentwoman and children die each and every day in those wretched factories. You can't deny the fact that a boy, not even the age of seven, fatigued from working day and night was sucked into a machine. Later, the bits and pieces of limbs almost mosaic-like, scattered around the area were all that remained. You can't deny the fact that a nine-year-old girl, Mary Richards, had her apron pulled into a machine where she was crushed to death from the force. Her arms, legs, thighs, etc. successively snap, every bone in her body broken, while blood streams onto the floor from the depths of the machine. I saw this happen right in front of me, with my own eyes. She not only worked beside me, but was a friend. You can't deny those facts. You may not take my word, but take the words of countless of others who didn't live to see a fair shake for the hard laborers in the factories. And you know what the owners and foremen do: nothing. They turn a blind eye and get one of the workers to cart the lifeless bodies off. So who says my story is any less believable than theirs?" I pause to stop for air, "And I have a witness."
"Objection!"
"On what terms?"
"That argument is irrelevant to this case."
"Overturned. Would the prosecution like to call the witness to the stand?"
"Alright, who is this 'witness', Ms. Astaire?"
"There!" I point towards the back of the room at the person sitting next to Spot."That boy right there."
"Your honor, I would like to call Mr. ,um-" The lawyer falters.
"Cryptic," the Brooklyn newsie provided. "Just Cryptic."
"Yes, I would like to call Cryptic to the stand."
"Mr. Cryptic , in the court of law we require a witness' full name to be stated."
"With all due respect your honor," Estella interjects, "in a trial were a young girl is being falsely accused of a crime she didn't commit, I think we are allowed to use all of the resources available to prove the jury of her innocence. If the boy wishes to remain anonymous, then by all means, let him remain anonymous."
"Very well, then. You may proceed." I step down from the bench so Cryptic can take a seat, all the while a smug grin gracing my face.
"In what way are you a witness to Mr. Dunnigan's alleged 'threats'?"
"I was kidnapped," Cryptic begins, and told his story including everything from when he was walking to Medda's to pick me up, to the moment when the Delancey's and Mr. Dunnigan handcuffs him and shoves him in the closet.
"That is all we need from you, Mr. Cryptic. You may step down from the stand," Mr. Brown directs, annoyance seeping into his tone. I knew Cryptic's testimony was valuable information because it made what I said a lot more credible to the jury. Now all that was left to do was cross your fingers and listen to the closing arguments. My nervousness grew as Estella approaches the stand, knowing this will be our last attempts to save me from a perpetual hell.
"If we look back on the very fundamentals of the United States of America judiciary system, you find the words 'equal justice under law.' You have heard all of the facts, so my message to the jury is this: put aside your prejudices. Put yourself into Kate's shoes, and knowing that she has been a victim to numerous attacks and hardships, that it is sometimes better to stand up for yourself than to let others win. I don't believe that there is a bone in her body that would intend to harm this man. But because of that, she has lived in fear for months. It is time for the underdogs to get their fighting chance against the corrupt leaders of this city. And proving Kate not guilty will be the first step to a better world for our children, and ultimately the future generations of this ever-growing country."
I smile as Estella finishes her statement, and out of the corner of my eye, saw the boys smile as well. Oh how I hope I will soon be able to see them again. Mr. Moriarty made his arguments, but I was too much of a nervous-wreck to pay attention.
"The jury may now take this time to discuss the trial and decide on a unanimous vote."
There's that damn word again, time. But surprisingly enough, it felt like time couldn't have gone by any faster. In fact, the jury had only been gone for about ten minutes when they came in with the slip of paper deciding my fate. I feel a sick feeling boiling up in the pit of my stomach as the judge opens his mouth to announce the verdict.
"Kathleen Margaret Astaire is considered guilty on all three counts of aggravated assault on a public servant, fleeing a crime scene, and vandalizing public property."
The word guilty continued to ring in my ears.
Just want to say sorry for not being as punctual as I wanted to on updating! Thank you to all my loyal readers and reviewers! My goal is to have another update by next Thursday. So, is this the end for Kate? After everything, will Kate end up in the Tombs for life? But no worries, I have a twist I'm gonna throw in there! What do you guys want to see? Any ideas? Any feelings you want to share? Feel free to leave a comment! I'm thinking of writing a sequel to this. What are your thoughts?