Stephen Penner - Presumption of Innocence

If she was startled, she didn't show it. "I told you not to thank me for something I wanted to do."

"You didn't want to do that."

She shrugged. "I didn't want to not do it, and him walk. I don't need that guilt."

Brunelle nodded and they started walking toward Faust's apartment.

"I really do think he'll hurt someone if he gets out again," Brunelle said.

"I know he will," Faust answered. "He's a psycho. No, if he's out, someone dies. Some young girl. And if I could have prevented that and didn't…?"

She stopped and looked at Brunelle, her soft features half-lit by a nearby streetlight. "You can be pretty convincing, Mr. Prosecutor."

Brunelle glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't help the smile creeping onto his mouth. He looked up. "Let me walk you home."

Faust smiled too, but more with her mouth than her eyes. "I don't think so." She stepped close to him. "I'm not the one for you."

Then she leaned up and kissed him. A deep, probing kiss with her hands in his hair. When she finished, she pulled away and looked in his eyes.

"The one you thought of just now," she whispered. "Go home and call her."

Brunelle didn't know what to say. Faust held his gaze and stepped back.

"She's asleep right now," he finally croaked.

Faust nodded. "The good ones are. Call her in the morning." She turned to walk away. "Good bye, old man."

Brunelle raised his hand as she walked away.

"Goodnight, beautiful," he whispered.

***

"Good morning, beautiful," Brunelle practically sang into the phone.

There was a pause before Kat responded. "David?" she confirmed. "Are you drunk?"

Brunelle laughed. "It's only nine in the morning."

Kat paused again. "You know that's a non-answer, right?"

"I'm not drunk," Brunelle assured. "I just wanted to call to say hi."

"Oh," Kat said. "Well then, hi."

"So we're still on for tonight?" Brunelle asked.

"Absolutely. Unless there's a last-second, emergency autopsy. But honestly those can usually wait. It's not like they're gonna get better."

"Charming," answered Brunelle. "Maybe let's not talk shop tonight."

"What are we gonna talk about then?" Kat asked.

"I don't know," Brunelle said. "Maybe us."

"'Us'?" Kat laughed. "David, it's our first date."

"It's our second," Brunelle corrected. "Don't forget coffee."

"I'm not sure that was a date exactly," Kat argued.

"Technically, I think it was," Brunelle replied.

"'Technically?" Kat asked. "You're going to go legal on me?"

"See? We're already talking about us."

Kat laughed. "Well done, Mr. Lawyer."

Brunelle laughed too, then got quiet for a few seconds.

"You okay?" Kat asked.

"Yeah," he sighed. "It's been a long trial."

"Almost done?"

"I think so. I don't think Welles is going to call many witnesses. We may even finish evidence today. Closing arguments on Monday."

"Well, then," said Kat. "It sounds like you could use a night out."

Brunelle smiled. "I guess so."

"Good luck today, David," Kat said. "Knock 'em dead."

"Ha ha," Brunelle groaned. "Medical examiner humor."

"You gotta have a sense of humor to do my job," Kat defended. "Yours too, I think."

"I suppose so," Brunelle said after a moment. "Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight.

"Me too," agreed Kat.

"Bye, Kat."

"Goodbye, David."

Brunelle held the phone against his forehead for a few seconds. He looked at the clock. Quarter to nine. Time to head down for Welles' opening.

Brunelle hoped it would suck. He knew it wouldn't.

"Justice," Welles began. He stood in the well before the jury box, palms spread. "Perhaps the highest human ideal. Love and kindness and charity-we all aspire to those, or at least we agree that we should. But justice, and the pursuit of justice, is such a high cause, such a high ideal, that it's what we expect the very Creator to deliver at the end of days. We here on Earth do our best to try to bring some justice to a world so absent of it sometimes. Justice is what we look to, to get us through the hardest times, when the worst possible things happen to the best possible people."

Welles paused and looked down at his feet solemnly.

"Emily Montgomery is dead. Murdered. In a terrible, almost unimaginable way. And we want justice. Her parents want it. The prosecutor wants it. You want it.

"And ladies and gentleman," he looked up, "believe it or not, I want it too.

"However, the State is seeking something other than justice here. The State to seeking revenge. Emily Montgomery is dead. And now the State wants to kill Arpad Karpati. Not because of what he did, but because they can't kill Holly Sandholm."

"Objection, Your Honor." Brunelle didn't like objecting-especially during an opening statement-but that went too far.

"Sustained."

"Holly Sandholm admitted to this murder," Welles continued. "Holly Sandholm is guilty of this murder. But Holly Sandholm is a juvenile, and the United States Supreme Court has said that juveniles cannot be executed."

"Objection again, Your Honor." Even when you don't want to object, Brunelle knew, sometimes not objecting signals you're admitting the other side's allegations against you.

"It's an accurate statement of the law, Your Honor," Welles defended.

"It's argumentative, Mr. Welles," Judge Quinn replied. "This is opening statement, not closing argument."

"Understood, Your Honor." Welles offered a slight bow. "I'll move on to the facts."

Of course he'll move on , Brunelle thought. He'd gotten to say what he wanted. Twice.

"The facts," Welles continued, "are these: Emily Montgomery was murdered. Holly Sandholm confessed. And the only shred of evidence the State gave you that my client was in any way involved was a desperate, last-minute witness-a bartender, no less-to whom we are supposed to believe Mr. Karpati confided in because, of course, all murderers tell their bartenders everything.

"The fact that this is the only witness to connect my client to the crime, and that she was called at the last possible second, shows just how weak and desperate the State's case truly is.

"Justice isn't just about avenging the victim. It's also about protecting the accused. Justice cries out that no one be punished for a crime unless the State, with all of its resources, can prove that crime beyond any and all reasonable doubt."

Welles stopped and pretended to think, as if his next point hadn't been rehearsed over and over in his bathroom mirror. "Actually I misspoke. They don't have to prove the crime beyond a reasonable doubt. They've done that here. There is no doubt Emily Montgomery was murdered. But before a man can be strapped to a gurney and heart-stopping poison injected into his veins, the State also must prove beyond any and all doubt that it was that man who was responsible for the crime.

"And that, ladies and gentleman, the State has utterly failed to do."

Brunelle considered objecting again at the appeal to emotion with the gurney crack, he even figured his objection would be sustained, but that 'ouch' goes both ways. And so does failing to produce evidence. So far Welles had attacked the State's case. Brunelle was curious if he'd ever explain what evidence the defense planned to put on.

"And to make matters worse," Welles continued after a dramatically thoughtful pause, "the State wants you to believe this murder was committed because Mr. Karpati is a vampire.

"Now, quite honestly, ladies and gentleman, I find that incredibly disrespectful to the memory of Emily Montgomery. She was murdered by a human being, not some imaginary monster. And again the only witness for this outlandish assertion is the attractive bartender to whom everyone tells their secrets.