Dec 1, 1998 VII

Continued from Dec 1, 1998 VI
Today is going to be different. It seems like it is just yesterday that I stood in this very room for this very reason. I pull the left collar leaf of my shirt to my lips with my right hand, stalling close to my lips so as to not get my very light pink lipstick on it. I let go. I rest my index finger on my lips as I look at the judge’s seat, not seeing it. I move my back of my hand across my lips, not caring much for lipstick smearing. I bite my lower lips, snapping my finger gently. The tiny buzz of air louder than the snap itself. I dart my eyes about, taking in the wooden division and the stony confinements. My eyes catch Mum’s own. She smiles at me and I shrug in response. I tilt my heads to the side and rub my aching eyes. I did not use the eye drop before leaving home. I dig my palm into my eyes, bidding the throbbing away.

The clerk announces the case. Mum passes me a Kleenex. I wipe my lips and the smudges off my hand. I lick my lips and crush the tissue into a ball. I drop my hands to smoothen my skirt. Mum gives my right a small squeeze. Smiling, I walk to the front with Sandra. We slide into the place, simultaneously as the prosecution. This time, the lead prosecutor has another solicitor beside him. Both counsel lay their briefcases on the table and fish out documents which they display on the table. They sit on their designated seats.
“Are counsel ready to proceed?” says the Judge.
“Ready, Your Honor,” the lead prosecutor says.
“Ready, Your Honor,” Sandra says.

The lead prosecutor stands and walks in front of his table. “Let me introduce myself. I am Idahosa Uhemike, representing the government in this important case. My purpose this morning is to help you anticipate what you will hear over the next few days or weeks as you listen to the evidence. I simply want to give you an overview of the case against Chioma Doyles and to thank you in advance for your patience and undivided attention. We are well aware of the burden of proof we bear in this case, and we are confident that by the end of the trial you will be able to see that we have more than met that burden. That is our promise to you. You will see from the reliable testimony and hard evidence presented that the defendant had the motive, the opportunity, and the means to commit the crime. In addition, we have firmly established the identity of the criminal offender to be that of the defendant in this case through circumstantial evidence. Now, you will repeatedly hear the defense say that this case rests on circumstantial evidence, implying that the absence of an eyewitness merits an acquittal. Please, don't be taken in by this tactic. Eyewitnesses are not required by law, and in fact, the case would not have gotten this far if there was an eyewitness. If there was an eyewitness, the defendant would probably have entered a guilty plea and got on with serving her time. Guilty verdicts can and should be reached on circumstantial evidence, and I trust you, the judge, will do your job and see that there is no other choice but to find the defendant guilty on all counts.” He turns and walks back to his seat.
Sandra stands and mirrors his earlier movement.
“We are here today because a tragedy has occurred. An unsuspecting individual was the victim of a senseless act. But there is a second tragedy in this case. My client, an outstanding member of this community, who has attended our school system, contributed to our economy, attended church -- stands here today before you wrongfully accused her of these crimes. Try to imagine, if you will, what it feels like to be falsely accused of the kinds of things the prosecution wants us to consider. How would you react? What the prosecution has failed to tell is that there is no real evidence linking my client to the scene of the crime. Certainly, there were ill feelings between my client and the unfortunate victim in this case, but that is and should not be convincing to you. Your Honor, we cannot bring the poor, unfortunate victim back to tell you what happened. My client would, if she only could, to have the truth exposed. Nor should we depend on the kinds of unreliable testimony and shoddy police work you will see exposed in the prosecution’s case. Please keep asking yourself the hard questions, and remember there's always another side to every story. As you listen to the prosecution's case, remind yourself that they will not tell you the whole story. It's not their job to do that. They have invested too much of resources already in the misdirected investigation and charging of my client, and it's too late for them to admit they're wrong. My client will be the first to admit she's far from being a perfect person, but haven't every one of us gotten mad at someone sometime. Your Honor, listen to the whole story, and prevent another tragedy from occurring--the wrongful conviction of an innocent person. The defense rejects the accusation. We will prove that the prosecution’s version of the event is incorrect. My client is innocent and should leave this court as a free woman. Thank you,” Sandra says, nodding at the end. She returns to my side.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we'll take a brief recess,” the judge says. The judge stands and retires to his inner chambers.
Sandra turns to me. “You’re doing fine.”
Fine, my foot! Nothing has started yet. It is incredible that I remember every word they both said. Maybe it has to do with the fact that it is so textbookish. Or that I might have said those words myself. Mum and Dad walk up to me. Dad crushes me in a side hug.
“You’re doing fine,” Dad says.
I chuckle and turn to Mum. “I swear if you repeat what Dad just said, I would totally freak out on you all. The case hasn’t started and you are all telling me that I am fine. Of course, I am fine. Shit hasn’t started yet.
“Watch your language young lady or I would pour some hyssop on it,” Mum says.
This gets a laugh out of me. Put it to my mum to pick on my language and not the content of my words.
“But you heard me, right?” I say.
“Loud and clear. Loud and clear, baby,” dad says as he squeezes one more side hug from me. “Sandra, are you calling any witness today?”
“Maybe, it all depends on the prosecution. I would cross examine their witness and would then decide if I want to put Margie on the stand. I want to stall putting Chioma on the stand for now. But I told Margie this yesterday,” Sandra says.
My dad turns and stares at my mum. My mum breaks the hold. She looks at me instead.
“I guess she still hasn’t gotten over the confidential clause. I guess she is conflicted between her years of keeping me out of the loop and forgot the fact that it is my daughter in this one,” my dad says.
“I am sorry, honey. I should have,” my mum says.
My dad leaves me, walks to my mum and pecks her. “That’s fine Marge. I would have probably done the same if I were in your shoes. And I understand. And should there ever be a day when I forget to tell you something important, make sure you remember today.”
My mum rests her head on my dad’s shoulder and my dad tightens his hold. Their action makes me smile. They look so adorable together. People start filling in and taking their seats. The Okafors returns and take their seats behind the prosecution. Mrs. Okafor does not bother to hide the resentment she sends my way. Her daughter pulls at her. Mrs. Okafor withdraws her gaze in a slow manner, tilting her ear to her daughter who whispers something to her. She spares me one more hate-filled glance and turns toward the empty judge seat.
“Are you sure you are fine?” my dad says.
“Dad, I am serious--” I say as my mum pulls my dad away. I breathe in, turn to Sandra. “Oya, let's kee this thing.”

The clerk announces the judge’s arrival. The judge walks in.
“Is the prosecution ready to proceed?” the judge says.
“We are, Your Honor,” the lead prosecutor says as he stands.
“Very well. You may call your first witness,” the judge says.
“Thank you, Your Honor. I would like to call Mrs. Okafor to the stand,” the prosecutor says as he stands. Chinedu’s mum walks to the stand and sits. She is handed a bible. She rests her hand on the bible and takes the oath.
“I swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So help me God,” Mrs. Okafor says.
“Could you tell the court your relationship to the victim?”
“He was my son,” she burst into tears. She wipes her eyes with her sleeves.
“What about the relationship between your son and the defendant?”
“They both went to the same school. My son once talked about how he admired her and how he wanted to be friends with her.”
“Mrs. Okafor, do you consider yourself close to your son. Does he generally talk to you about his relationships with the opposite sex?”
“Sometimes,” Mrs. Okafor says.
“And what exactly did he say about Miss. Doyles?”
“That she was nice, smart and was pretty decent. He wondered why even though she had some pretty wild friends, she still managed to stay sensible.”
“It seems your son really liked Miss. Doyles. Why then, did they fall out?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why then would Miss. Doyles kill your son?”
“Objection! The defense takes offence to the prosecution choice of words,” Sandra says as she stands up.
“Sustained. Mr. Uhemike, please reframe your question,” the judge says. Sandra sits.
“Mrs. Okafor, what do you think happened that might make the defendant consider murdering your son?”
“My son is with someone else now. Jealousy, I presume.”
“That’s all for this witness, your Honor.”

Why is Mrs. Okafor on the stand as a starting witness? She doesn’t offer much to the case besides the tears of a mother. Sandra has more to gain from her as a witness than the prosecution. Wondering if I am missing something, I stare at the prosecution. Maybe I might find the answer on his face. Nada. I shake my head. I am missing something. I can feel it but I can’t grasp it. This is totally pointless. I see the smile plastered on Sandra’s face and I know she feels the same.
“Defense, you may have the floor,” the judge says.
“Mrs. Okafor, how would you describe your son?” Sandra says.
Mrs. Okafor looks surprised at the question. She focuses her attention on Sandra, probably trying to figure the catch. But Sandra says and does nothing.
“My son was an angel. He was an extrovert, had a lot of friends, brought joy to everyone and believed the best in everyone.”
“Would you say that your son was a pretty good judge of character?”
“Maybe, I guess so.”
“Mrs. Okafor, I need a yes or no answer,” Sandra says with all the sweetness that she can muster.
“Yes, I would say so.”
“So, you would agree that your son’s impression of Ms. Doyles might be right,” Sandra says.
“I guess so.”
“Did your son ever inform you that Ms. Doyles had a violent temper or was prone to violent tendencies?”
“No.”
“Yet you believed that my client one day snapped and murdered your son.”
“If you put it that way.”
“I do not know the number, but whenever he could.”
“Do you know how many women your son went out with?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know that your son smokes and drinks?”
“He was a young man,” Mrs. Okafor shrugs.
“Has your son ever displayed violent tendencies, hit his sister or you perhaps?” Sandra says. Mrs. Okafor glares at Sandra, at loss for words. She turns to Chinedu's sister and then the prosecution.
“Objection, the defense is riding the witness. She just lost a child,” the lead prosecutor says.
Then what in the hell is she doing in the witness box? She should never have been called to the box.
“Overruled,” the judge says.
“I am done, Your Honor,” Sandra says.
“Can the prosecution call its second witness?” the judge says.
The lead prosecutor stands up. “I call Ivie Okafor to the stand.”
“I swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God,” Ivie says as she rests her hand on the bible.
“Ms. Okafor, how is your relationship to the deceased?”
“He was my brother. He was a year older than me.”
“And you were the one you found him. Is this right?”
“Yes.”
“Could you tell this court how you met your brother?”
“I had gone in to call him in for dinner. My brother stays in the boys quarters whenever he is home. I knocked and got no answer. As I turn to go back to the main house, I thought, why not turn the knob. Which I did, the door was open. I went in. The sitting room was empty but the TV was on.”
“How did you find your brother?”
“He was in the bedroom. He was propped on the bed.” Ivie averts her eyes, looking down. She gazes at the planks in front of her, lost in thought.
“Ms. Okafor, how did you find Chinedu?”
Ivie shudders, shaking her head violently. “There was a knife sticking up in his body. His mouth was stuffed with tissue.” She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer,shaking uncontrollable.
“I tender this photograph as evidence.” The lead prosecutor hands a copy to the clerk and one to Sandra.
“Evidence 1.” The clerk hands the picture over to the judge.
Sandra glances at the picture and slides it over to me. I can feel the bile rising up in my mouth. I struggle to push it down. I look to my mum in desperation. My stomach notches up and seems to be preparing to betray me.

Continued http://olatodera.blogspot.com/2012/05/dec-1-1998-viii.html.