The room fell silent as everyone tuned in for the prosecution's opening statement. The prosecutor strolled around the well of the court, constantly gesturing towards the defense table.
"You will hear from witnesses who saw her there. You will see undeniable evidence. And when it is all said and done, you will have a clear picture." He said as he stopped between the two lawyers' tables. "At the end of this trial, the law only asks one thing of you: that you see what is before you and return a verdict of guilty." He paused and let in silence, giving chance for everyone to feel the weight of each of his words. Then he took to his seat.
Maryanne didn't hear most of his statement. His voice was muffled almost the whole time, as her mind wandered all over the courtroom. From the jurors and their reactions. To the judge, stern, sober, and indifferent, amazed by how none of his wrinkles except the ones between his eyes ever deepened in reaction to the statement.
Then the next second she was thinking about the gallery, feeling all their hate and briefly pitying herself.
However, among them she had an unusual thought. One that made her wince a little the more her mind locked in on it. A sneer grew on her, much like the one on her brother-in-law's face.
She had some hate of her own to dispense.
She fought the thought briefly, trying to pay attention to the proceedings. Her lawyer, Mr. Dawkins, was up in front of the jury delivering his opening statement.
"The prosecution has presented you with a story, but that is all it is-a story. Our responsibility, together, is to separate assumption from fact. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, let us make sure we produce a verdict solely from fact, not assumption, as the law requires." He said and she nodded in agreement. But as he went on, her nods got smaller and slower. The thought gnawed at her.
Her mind slipped away from his voice and soon she was back at the aisle walking up to her seat. She had just got past all the gallery's benches and was on the homestretch to her seat.
Dawkins had pulled it from beneath the table and was standing behind it waiting for her.
As soon as she sat, he pushed her slightly into the table and went to his seat.
Then she had her gaze to the front of the court. Everything else was behind her. The gallery of haters, her former in-laws-she didn't have to face them anymore, at least until the trial was over.
However, she felt the urge to turn back and throw one more glance their way. She felt as if her mind had done a complete 180 inside her skull and was facing the spectators.
She sprung her neck around quickly and glanced briefly back, to soothe her mind, but as she turned back, she noticed something.
A woman beside the Sheperd family who had her hand gently on her mother-in-law's shoulder and with the other, she was tapping gently her arm. Comfortingly.
She sneered again at the thought. Her own manager with her accuser, comforting her? Then gracefully passing greetings around the family members? That did not sit well with her.
A pinch of guilt rose in her; for not wanting a person to show compassion to a mourning mother. Her lip curled up in a disdainful smirk.
Then she went ahead to sit on the bench, right behind her accuser's family. Though in that courtroom, completely full of her naysayers, where you sat didn't show which side you supported, that proximity to her accusers irked her. It showed allegiance to them.
After all she had done for her? All those years of dutifulness, she dumped her, and at her lowest?
That morning, as she was preparing herself for the trial, the thought of Lucille being there at her trial gave her reassurance floating overhead in a white cloud.
Apart from her family, who even in the public's eyes would support her even in the face of irrefutable evidence, she would have her former manager.
But when she turned and saw her chopping it up with the deceased's family, she was hurt. The white cloud blackened and collapsed, dripping cold dread onto her. What hurt even more was that the family was the first people, in the entire room, that she talked to. Not her client or friend.
Then two thoughts followed. They widened her sneer into her cheeks. As her manager greeted the family, Olivia-her dearest friend in The Great Nation-showed up behind her. But not for her. She immediately leaned down to comfort the mourning mother.
"Miss Sheperd, I am very sorry for your loss. Your son was a very, very good man..." Her voice barely reached Maryanne's ears amidst the chatter. "Maryanne was my friend and he always showed me kindness, and her. I truly don't know what got into her." She murmured.
Was! Was your friend! Maryanne shouted in her mind.
The cloud around her tightened. Her closest confidants had thrown her under the bus, and were watching alongside her accusers as it crushed her underneath its weight.
"The law requires proof beyond reasonable doubt that my client," he said, pointing a sharp finger towards her, jerking her a little in her seat. Dawkins, who had been blurred out by her thoughts, became clear in her sight briefly. Then the second thought gnawed at her. She couldn't resist. Her mind drew something she had heard on the radio as she drove to court that morning.
"On previous interviews, Lucille Morrison, the defendant's manager, had no comment on her former client's impending trial," the PR voice on the radio said, "but this morning, she just released a statement. In it she says, and I quote: 'Me and The Great Nation have no ties with Maryanne O'Neill. There was only strict business between us. We do not condone, in any way, her actions and thus for the period of her trial, we have not, will not and cannot have any communication with her. Her actions do not represent our organization'." Her heart sank when she heard that. Her hands slipped off the steering wheel almost sending her through the guard rails and off the road.
Hate flew from her towards Lucille and her best friend Olivia, triumphing that of the entire row behind her.
"And ladies and gentlemen of the jury, at the end of this trial, you will realize that this burden of proof is one the prosecution cannot meet." He finalized then likewise paused briefly. Maryanne's vision cleared up again and her eyes followed him as he approached and sat next to her.
Then they turned to the jury and at the corner one of them stared at Dawkins nodding slowly and agreeably.