Second Quarter 2010: Evolving Talent Winner
VERSIONS OF THE TRUTH
by David Griffin
There was nothing to do now but wait. The jury retired. None of them looked at me as they stood up and filed out towards the jury room. Did that mean they thought I was guilty? No, that was when they came back; when they had their verdict.
I was taken down to the cell. This could take hours. I was tired; didn’t sleep much last night. I could just lay down on this bench now. Isn’t it only guilty men who can sleep at a time like this? I guess it doesn’t matter, the jury won’t see me anyway, and it’s in their hands now.
I wondered what they were saying about me, right now, these strangers; which evidence they were focusing on. People I didn’t even know; who knew so much about me.
My brief had done well. I liked her; I think she’s the only one that actually believes me. She’s attractive; tall and smart, efficient and professional. I could imagine her at the end of the day, taking off her cap and gown, taking out the hairpins and shaking her head to free that dark, flowing hair. I thought the jury would like her. The men would anyway; seven of the twelve.
I told my side of it. Put my hand on the Bible and swore to tell the whole truth. It doesn’t mean anything of course; anyone can do it. It might play well with the jury though, well some of them at least.
The prosecution lawyer dismissed it all of course, told the whole court I was a liar. Well, that’s his job. He was older than my brief; had a big, round gut on him and he sweated. He had been good though; dismissed everything I said with this kind of world-weary cynicism. Probably an act. Maybe he just wasn’t getting any at home, I don’t know. Still, if it came down to a popularity contest between the lawyers, I thought I had the edge.
He brought up a couple of old allegations; domestic disturbance, offensive behaviour, an old drunk driving conviction. It was all minor stuff, and not even relevant. My brief stepped in to object and the judge told the guy to stick to the case in hand; told the jury to ignore what he’d said. The damage was done though; they heard it and would make their own judgements. He knew exactly what he was doing. It didn’t matter to him if the judge gave him a telling off. And he called me devious.
Of course the burn on my hand came up. The one I told them I got from the gas fire at my flat. They had photographs. The jury looked at them each in turn and passed them to the next in line. Just bad luck it happened on the same night, I said. These things happen.
And the witness; the old woman from across the road. OK, so she knew me when it was my house. I always said hello when I met her in the street. But it was dark, and she’s old. She saw a white man, early to mid thirties, dark hair, average height and weight. It could have been anyone.
The police were convinced it was me. I was prime suspect; nobody else in the frame. The other brief asked me who I thought had done it. My lawyer objected, but I wanted to answer.
“I don’t know, but I wish I did,” I said. I think that went down well with some of the jurors; gallows humour.
I said I didn’t know anything about the life of my ex-wife. We had been divorced over a year. I didn’t know what lovers she’d had; whether she’d made any enemies.
It wasn’t true of course, but the jury didn’t know that. I’d been discreet. I watched her; saw her leave work, maybe have a drink with friends, return home alone. There had been no-one else, I was sure of it.
Then one night I was waiting for her to come home. It was dark and I sat in my car a few doors down from the house; her house. It was a new car; she wouldn’t have recognised it. Another car pulled up beside me, to parallel park in the space behind. She was sitting right there on the passenger side. I slid down in my seat. Any sudden movement and she would have seen me. She didn’t look though.
The guy in the driving seat was a work colleague of hers. I’d met him a few times. His name was Anthony. He said it in that way where you sound the “th”; Anth-ony. I didn’t like him; he was arrogant. He was some kind of accountant, and I was just a builder; a manual labourer. He thought he was better than me. I bet I earned as much as him though.
I watched their silhouettes in my rearview mirror. They sat a long time, just talking. I wondered if they were talking about me. Eventually Julie took off her seatbelt and this Anthony guy turned towards her. She leaned across and kissed him. I sat, clenching my fists, digging my nails into my palms. Later there were marks, crescents on my hands. I wanted to get out of the car; to march over and drag him out to the street, punch him, again and again; watch his scrawny body writhe in the gutter; see him cry; beg me to stop.
Their kiss ended. They sat another minute or so, talking some more, then Julie got out of the car. I sank down in my seat as she walked past. She looked back from the doorstep and waved, then went in to the house. She didn’t see me.
The accountant, Anthony, sat there for a couple of minutes. I suppose he was waiting in case she changed her mind; came out again and asked him to come in, for coffee. Eventually he drove away.
So, she hadn’t slept with him anyway, but it was only a matter of time. They would probably do it in my house. Of all the insults, that was the worst. I didn’t want that to happen.
I wanted to tell the police about him; suggest that maybe he’d set the fire, because she turned him down. My brief advised me not to say anything; it wouldn’t look good, me being there, still watching my ex-wife after so long. I told her it was because I still loved her. I think she believed me. They questioned him anyway, but he was squeaky clean; well spoken, highly respected. Someone like him wouldn’t do something like this. That’s what they thought.
Of course they left Julie for last; the star attraction. She played the pity card; sat in the witness box with a tissue in her hand, wiping the corners of her eyes every once in a while. She was wearing this high-fronted blouse, white with lace edging. I’d never seen her wear anything like that in my life. She sat straight in her chair, all prim and proper, and talked about the torture of her marriage to me; her words. How I got drunk, hit her. Well OK, I might have lost it once in a while; who doesn’t? But hey, she’d done all right out of me. She didn’t have too much to complain about.
Julie told them how she had woken that night. There was a strange light through the doorway and the smell of smoke. She tried the light switch but it did not work, and made her way downstairs guided by the banister rail. The fire burned around the front door, the curtains alight, and smoke rising in billowing clouds. Julie ran to the back door but the key was not in the lock and she panicked, not remembering where she kept it hidden. She thought about the phone, but it was too near the fire, and it was already too late. Coughing, struggling to breathe, she picked up the dustbin and with it smashed the small window by the sink. Her arms got cut up pretty badly as she clambered through to safety. Julie showed the scars to the jurors. They just ate it up.
It was time. So soon; I didn’t know if that was good or bad. A policeman led me back to the court; the smell of polish and the late afternoon light through the high windows. Julie was there, crying of course, and beside her sat Anthony the accountant. He held both her hands in his. She did not meet my eyes. I had to win this; could not let her beat me. We had unfinished business.
The jury filed back in to the room, their decision made; my life in their hands. Two of them glanced up at me as they returned to their seats. That seemed promising. I smiled. I always won in the end.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
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JUDGE’S COMMENTS:
This character is clearly defined. I could see the fire. I loved the stalking scene. Loved the comment about saying the word Anthony. Nice job. Constructively, the writer needs to alter the ending, or else lead the reader to believe he’s innocent before revealing the alter-ego. I have to say the ending disappointed since it was predictable. Watch using the word “it” too much. Like I said, enjoyed the story. Just wanted to be surprised more at the end.