in the matter of the United States of America versus Davey Crockett who has been charged with the murder of a Canadian citizen, Seg Maze…how says you?”
The jury stands and says in unison, “Guilty.”
“Objection.”
“Fo what?”
“Sir, I believe the bailiff was speaking to the defendant, not the jury.”
“So he was.” Turning to the jury, “The jury is admonished to wait until you have heard the case against the defendant.” A tiny black woman in the back row with a toy monkey on her shoulder, jumps up and down, trying to be seen and heard. “Yes what is it?” The judge ax.
“Sir, what is this ammunition word mean?”
“Sorry it is elementary…’ad-mon-ish’ is a verb, means to reprove mildly…kindly but seriously, to warn against something…like speaking when you are not spoken to…got it?”
The judge continued, “Ok ... settled…will the defendant plead?”
“Not guilty.” And with no further ado the defense began to present its case, somewhat out of order but such was the protocol of this court, the defense goes first and the prosecution then has the last word. In the horse, racing game this is what is called a reversal of form.
“Bailiff, call the first witness.”
“William Cover, please come forward and raise your right hand,”
“But sir I am left handed.”
“It don’t matter Cover, nobody’s going to believe you anyways. So, please state your name and your connection to this matter.”
“William Cover.” Holding his left hand high and his right hand on the bible, “I am a Sheriff’s deputy for the county and was directed to investigate the death of Seg Maze.”
“Now deputy you questioned the defendant and you investigated the crime scene…and with the professional assistance of other law enforcement professionals you also looked at the scene were the death took place?”
“Yes, sir, you are correct. And get the booby prize”
“And you found no body?”
“No sir, we did not locate Seg Maze.”
“Just answer yes or no….and now, did you locate what you consider to be the murder weapon?”
With this the prosecutor was on his feet, causing a stir before he spoke. Objection, your honor…Motion for Mistrial.”
“Sit down you idiot, you don’t want a mistrial and the motion is overruled…but I will sustain your objection and caution the defense not to use the word murder again.”
“Deputy, let me restate my question, did you find anything suspicious about the site?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why did you recommend ... the government bind the defendant over to the Grand Jury?”
“Sir, I did just the opposite.”
“How so?”
“I informed the government there was no sign of a dead body, nor foul play, and I found the defendant credible.”
Once again, the prosecutor was on his feet, “Mistrial, your honor.”
The jury looked at each other, the crowded courtroom spectators began to whisper among themselves causing the judge to slam the gavel on its block causing the dust to rise noticeably. The court reporter worked her fingers to record the action. The courtroom artist caught the judge with his mouth open and the bailiff went for his weapon of choice, a large banana.
“Well I, of course,” the judge stammered, “I’m calling a fifteen-minute recess and ask the prosecutor and defense to my quarters.”
“Objection, your honor.” From the defense this time.
“Well, what now?” He stared at the defense.
“The law sir is quite clear, if you intend to discuss the prosecutions motion, it must be done in open court, under the scrutiny of the jury.”
“So bailiff, clear the court-room of all spectators.”
There was a good deal of mumbling and grumbling as the spectators gathered their belongings while openly discussing the bizarre nature of the proceedings. The bailiff, between bites of the large banana, ushered his neighbors out of the spacious courtroom taking about fifteen minutes. After clearing the courtroom of the spectators, the bailiff went to the judge’s chambers and advised him ... the courtroom was ready for his return.
The judge entered through a trap door under his desk and walked to the wooden rail, which separated the spectators from the working court. He looked directly at his jury.
“My apologizes to the jury…it may seem rather chaotic but such is the nature of justice in action. Now we appear to be in something of a fix, or as they say between a rock and a hard spot.
The prosecution has made a motion for mistrial and I am inclined to grant the motion as a matter of law, but before I rule I am going to use the court’s discretion to call for an Evidentiary Hearing after the receipt of the Motion for Mistrial by the prosecution and a response by the defense. I expect to hold this hearing forty-eight hours after the receipt of the answer by the defense. Thank you ladies and gentleman for your cooperation and I regret ... you must now be sequestered in your hotel rooms were we intend to make you extra comfortable. If you need anything, please inform the Marshall. Except if you need water or the toilet because it is well known they only use those themselves.
The jury sat stunned, defense counsel grabbed his briefcase and papers and looked at me like a student going out to recess. Was this the end of the nightmare, was the prosecution brain dead to be calling for a mistrial, only time would tell and I had plenty of it on my hands.
************
It was still quite early but I knew the lodge dining room would be open, and my head told me… clearly, I had consumed far too many whiskies and branch water. I needed strong black coffee and lots of it. I hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee since my beloved live-in Bonnie had died. I don’t believe it was the coffee so much as the loving and charming manner in which she served it, her smile crushed my heart. When I lost Bonnie, my life began the slow decline into a dark oblivion; every woman thereafter was nothing more than a play toy.
As I walked to the lodge dining room I could not get Bonnie off my mind, perhaps it was the recurring dream… I was there when she died. The army had brought her in to use her skill as a surgeon to help out with the more complex wounds. She wore a mask over her mouth and a cap covered her reddish/blonde hair and any soldier looking into her steel gray eyes immediately fell in love, there was no pain, even when the bomb hit. At thirty-six, her life taken from her, a life and love which had not yet begun for the two of us with duty on our minds.
In my dream, I forgave myself for not pushing the issue to have a family. I had second thoughts. She had worked hard and she was so dedicated. She deserved
