A Trial of Emotions

The courtroom is stale with silence. No one here can find words to utter after the doctor’s testimony. I feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on me. Judging me. Condemning me. Sentencing me before I have even had a chance to give my side of the story.

“Your honor, we would like to call the victim to the stand.” The prosecutor says. My lawyer throws up his pen in disgust but calls for no objection. “Once the jury sees her this can really hurt our case” he whispers. Several people gasp in unison as the prosecutor wheels a frail, pasty, young woman with her arm in a sling and a broken leg to the witness stand. My lawyer is right. This doesn’t look good.

The battered woman is sworn in and nervously tugs at her black hair awaiting the first question. The prosecutor adjusts his tie like he’s been waiting for this moment all day. He shoots a wink over in my direction and fires away.

“How long have you known the defendant ma’am?”

“Well, all his life I suppose. I’ve always been with him.” She says with a dainty southern drawl.

“And when did he accuse you of being the one isolating him from his friends and family?” My lawyer leaps from his seat. “Objection!” He cries. “Sustained.” The judge utters quickly, trampling any hopes the lawyer had to bury this case. “I’ll withdraw the question your honor.” The prosecutor says. “In your own words ma’am please describe your relationship with the defendant if you would be so kind.”

The young woman takes a deep breath. She clutches her pearls and rubs them against the contrasting black dress she wears. “I’ve always been with him. Things took a turn for the worst when I moved in when he was in college. I didn’t tell him I was coming and it kind of made things awkward. He failed a lot of classes, lost his job, lost his friends, and was in a really bad way back then but I was there. Things were tough and through everything I stayed at his side. ” The jury hangs on her words and eats up two heaping scoops of her bullshit as she paints this picture of a loving spouse.

”So when did things get really bad?” The prosecuting lawyer asks.

“After he saw the doctor and started drugging me.” She says as tears fall from her eyes. The lawyer wastes no time and rushes to her with a tissue. “You say he went to the doctor? Was it Dr. Kishore, that testified just moments before you?” He asks, making sure to highlight the dramatics of her pain and suffering for the jury.

“Yes, it was the same doctor. He would drug me with the medicine from Dr. Kishore and try to push me out of his life. He treated me terribly.” She says staring deep into my eyes.

“Well why didn’t you leave, such a pretty woman like yourself would have no trouble finding another man.”

”Because I loved him. No matter how much he ignored me when I tried talking to him. No matter how many times he would try to drown me in a mountain of medicine. No matter how many times he would try to sweep me under the rug, or pretend I didn’t exist, I loved him and I wasn’t going to leave him.”

”Wow, sounds like this young man really had you in loves’ chokehold. But speaking of chokeholds, can you share with the court how you got your injuries?”

“From the defendant. He would often push me away. I guess he found me burdensome or problematic now. The only time he would let me hold him was when he got drunk. But pushing me away became a daily routine, so much that my knees would often stay bloody from being constantly knocked to the ground. But this one particular day he noticed the meds weren’t making me numb anymore. I was still able to be heard and much harder to ignore. I guess I had built up a tolerance, so in turn he forced more meds down my throat than usual. As if I wasn’t low enough, then he goes and shoves my face into the ground demanding that I get even lower. I started to break with the heavy medications and that kind of treatment. I mean I couldn’t believe the man I love would do this to me. I never thought he would hurt me this way.” Her tears are like icing on the cake. Three women in the jury share in her emotions and shed tears as well. While others stare at me with looks that could kill.

“No further questions at this time your honor.” The prosecutor says and takes his seat. He sits confidently in the leather chair. And why shouldn’t he, he just got a slam dunk from the victim and the jury can’t wait to put me under the prison.

”Your honor in lieu of the victim's testimony I would like to request a short recess to confer with my client.” My lawyer says hoping to appeal to some form of sympathy from the judge. ”Granted. Court will reconvene in twenty minutes.” He says with a strike of his gavel. It rings out across the courtroom like a gunshot from a firing squad. It scares the crap outta me.

The back room is cold and smells like shattered lives and guilty verdicts. My lawyer enters and tosses his briefcase atop the table and begins to pace the room rubbing his temples. I take a seat and watch this spectacle of a stressed man in a black suit. He’s not even the one on trial here. “Look I can turn this all around when I take the stand.” I say trying to ease his nerves. “No, there’s no point. If you did even half the things she said you did, you taking the stand explaining why would only add more years to your sentence. I think we should take the plea deal.” He says finally taking a seat and staring me in the eye.

“The plea deal?” I shout. “I mean yea I did those things but what the hell was I supposed to do? She was ruining my life!” My fists slam against the table. My frustration is made physical as the desk lay victim to my violence. “Look with a plea deal, it's only 8 years and with good behavior you can be out in 4, maybe even 3 with overcrowding. Just think about it, I gotta take a piss.” The lawyer leaves me with my thoughts and my anger. 8 years for this? I honestly can’t believe it. But here I am facing years in prison for attempted murder. My heart rattles in my chest slamming against my ribs with each beat. I’m sick to my stomach thinking I may do jail time. If anything it was self defense. Surely I can get them to see that!

My lawyer returns and before both feet have a chance to enter the room I shout “Put me on the stand!” He takes off his glasses and tosses them onto the table and takes a deep sigh. “And how do you think that’s gonna go?” He wipes the tangible frustration off his face and continues.

”Do you disagree with Dr. Kishore’s diagnosis of you?”

”No…”

“Did you drug this girl?”

”Well yea but-”

“Did you push her down?”

“I did but it wasn’t like-”

”Have you done anything like this with any of the other emotions?”

”No, I mean why would I?”

“Here’s the million dollar question! Were you trying to kill this girl?”

”I was! And I would do it again! You don’t know what she put me through!” I feel my blood boiling in my veins. I’m so angry that my breathing is nearly a growl.

“And this is why you can’t take the stand. Think about the plea deal. It’s a good deal.” With these words he collects his things, and gives me a small sympathy pat on the back before leaving me in silence to decide my fate.

Twenty minutes later we re-enter the courtroom. My mind is made up. I give my lawyer a nod and he already knows. He stands to address the court and informs the judge that we have agreed to take the plea. The judge looks down from his stoop “Son, are you aware that you are agreeing to plead guilty to the attempted murder of your depression?”

”I am your honor…”

“And you understand the terms and conditions of this plea arrangement?”

“I do your honor.”

With a strike of his gavel, I accept my sentence and Depression has won. The prosecutor trots over with a big smile on his face. “You know you did the right thing here.” He says as they handcuff me, “I mean you never try to kill happiness or joy, so it's not fair you shove pills down Depression’s throat. All emotions deserve fair and equal treatment. You can push it down, medicate it, or even try to suppress it but eventually Depression will win, it will have its day...”

-End