In Skater's Time By: Rick Beck
Congratulations to Bishop Gene Robinson!
The Unity, MCC, and Unitarian churches also offer an open-minded view of people and the many forms they take. They offer brotherhood for the most part and aren't so eager to be in the judgment business.
AIDS & STDs are on the rise. They are easy to get and hell to have. Please, protect yourself so you are around to read my stories for a long long time.
"All men, including women, are created equal."
Chapter 28 Paul's Prison Prospects
The proceedings were fairly brief and the DA seemed certain of his case against Paul. He didn't seem like the rabid DA you see on television. In fact I had the impression he knew right when he saw it, and somehow prosecuting Paul wasn't his idea of fun and games. It certainly had no political value, save the fact he would take another desperate criminal off of Clifornia's streets.
My outburst in court finished any conversation with Paul on the subject. I very much wanted to reason with him but he would have none of it. So, I decided I'd do the only thing I could do, let it go. I found myself spending more and more time with him, although I did have a job for the summer. The more I was with Paul the more I wanted to be with Paul.
"When are you going to open the other house," I asked, one night, after we'd made love.
"When this is over. No point opening until I get this behind me. My old man will just come along and close it up while I'm away."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
There was no reply and then I realized what he had in mind. Even being there so much in love, it was there with us. There would be six weeks before the trial and I don't think either of us wanted those six weeks to pass, but pass they did.
The trial would be short. The prosecutor only had a couple of witnesses and the defense would take another day. No matter how much I wished it were different, the days kept passing and my hold on Paul seemed destined to slip away on a technicality.
The DA was brief and kept the kid on the stand for fifteen minutes so he could described how he was minding his own business when he was attacked. Paul's lawyer didn't ask him any questions. The scene was set, the attack was described, and the DA saw no possible explanation or excuse for what Paul had done, or so he said to the jury.
I had no clue what Paul's strategy was if there was any. He had gone to speak to his attorney a few times. The first witness for the defense was a specialist in PostTraumatic Syndrome. There were objections, and Paul's attorney argued frame of mind. The DA argued it was irrelevant. The judge said that he would hear it and so then we all heard it.
"Mr. Cooper underwent a vicious attack. The only thing about the attack that he could remember was one of the boots that kicked him in the head before he was rendered unconscious. There was a serious concussion which could cause any number of anomalies in behavior and character. None should be permanent but all would be unpredictable."
It certainly sounded serious to me and everyone seemed impressed by words no one really understood by the looks of them.
"So, seeing that boot," Paul's attorney said, placing a pair of boots on the evidence table. "Seeing these...."
"I object your honor," the DA said, spring up like some out of control jack in the box. "The boots are inflammatory and not relevant to this case."
"Yes, inflammatory indeed," Paul's attorney said. "Clutching Paul's shoulder as he tossed half a dozen pictures on the table. "Inflamed his face, his eye, his spleen, which had to be removed to stop the hemorrhaging that could have killed my client."
"Your Honor," the DA squealed, popping back up before he'd gotten all the way back down in his seat. "At best this defense is questionable. There's no evidence in the world that can convince this jury that a pair of boots encouraged that hulk to attack this innocent young lad, who was minding his own business."
"And wearing the boots that did the damage to my client," Paul's attorney argued.
"Your honor!"
"Then, I don't understand your objection," Paul's attorney said to the DA. "If there is no reason what's your objection to me presenting the reasons I feel are valid? Reasons I think these folks might appreciate."
"He does have a point," the judge said to the DA. "Let's listen to what he has to say. It's a stretch but I'd like to think there is some explanation for the defendants behavior."
"So this "expert" is trying to say the boots made him do it?" The DA chortled with a touch of humor in his words.
"The kind of attach he suffered can trigger any number of responses. No, I can't positively say that seeing those boots triggered this attack. What I would say, is this young man isn't prone to violence as far as my study of him shows. He's more relaxed than most twenty-year olds. In my opinion those pictures tell the story. That kind of attack could definitely trigger a response like the one we saw if he thought he was faced with the person who inflicted the beating upon him. In my mind, that's what he thought or more precisely, that's what he was reacting to."
Paul's attorney was passing the pictures to the jury as the psychiatrist testified. The DA bristled as the judge glared at him for his continued disagreeableness.
"Yes, you are an expert in what causes attacks like this?" The DA asked, once the defense attorney was done.
"More an expert in how someone attacked in that fashion might respond. I study the affects of trauma on personalities and behavior."
"I see. You ever deal with a man that attacked a pair of boots before?" The DA said, pointing at the silent boots.
"No, I've never had a case exactly like this one. That's true. Most cases are unique."
"So, you can't say the defendant wasn't simply having a bad day and he saw this unimposing child and decided to take it out on him," the DA said, pointing at the tall skinny kid that looked nothing like a child and he seemed offended by the idea.
"I'd say that would be totally out of character for the defendant in my opinion. There would have to be some threat for him to react in any such fashion. In this case the threat being the boots."
"And it is only opinion. An excuse for someone's violent behavior."
"He's testifying," Paul's attorney said, half standing in a dismissive manor.
"I withdraw the question."
"It was a statement," Paul's attorney retorted.
"I withdraw that too," the DA said. "That's all I have for this... doctor."
The DA and the defense attorney mulled things over for a time and then another expert was called to testify.
"Yes, sir, you examined those boots."
"I did," the man said.
"Those the boots that kicked my client in the head."
"They are. We did a DNA analysis and your clients blood is embedded in the right sole of those boots."
"The one with the cut?"
"Yes, sir. That would be the right boot."
"I object. I object. Those boots aren't part of this case. They're part of another case. They are irrelevant. Their case is a theory for God sakes."
"We've had testimony about his frame of mine and that is contingent on the attack on my client. We're just establishing these are the boots and my client recognized these boots and that is what caused the attack, according to the experts."
"Your Honor, with all due respect, the boots aren't in evidence in this case no matter how hard he wants to make them so. Please instruct the jury to disregard any testimony concerning those boots," the DA demanded, thrusting forth his index finger, bringing the jury's attention to the guilty looking boots one more time.
"Yes, I agree. Any and all testimony concerning those boots really has nothing to do with the attack on Mr. Cooper. I want you to disregard any reference to said boots. Please, get them off your table and lets move on," the judge said, sweeping his hand in a gesture that indicate the boots should be gone.
"Can I have my boots back now?" the tall skinny kid asked.
The DA glared at him as the jury took it all in, while disregarding what they had seen and heard.
"Your honor, the boots are my entire case. The only other thing I have is my client's word for what happened that evening."
"The boots are out. I've told the jury to disregard the boots. I've listened to your argument and that's my ruling. I gave you a lot of room to roam on this councilor. It's time to move on."
"Your honor, can I approach?" The DA asked.
"Approach," the judge said. "We'll take a five minute recess." The judge added. "Feel free to stand up and stretch."
The attorneys and the judge did their imitation of a huddle as they pondered the next move. Some of the jury stood and then Paul stood up and so I stood up. He walked straight back to me, all of two steps, taking my hands in his as he stared at me.
"You're hot," he said as I blushed, hoping no one heard. "Paul!" I said, with every eye in the court being on him holding both of my hands as he ate me with his eyes.
"I don't care who knows. I love you, Z. No matter what, I want you to remember that."
"Paul!" I said with the jury all staring right at me.
"Paul! What's wrong with you," his attorney said loud enough for the entire court to hear. "Sit down."
"There's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine," Paul said, letting my hands go and returning to the defendant's table.
"We're holding our own in this thing. What are you trying to do? Make sure they send you to prison?"
"If they want to do that because I love someone I can deal with it," he said.
"Well they can. Don't do that again. I'm trying to defend you and you aren't making it easy."
I was still blushing as I sat back down and tried to get invisible among those around me, but everyone was staring at me.
After lunch Paul was called to the stand.
"You ever been in trouble before?"
"No, sir. I skipped school once and got caught."
"You're not a criminal?"
"No, sir."
"Why'd you attack that kid?" He asked, pointing to the kid in question.
"I didn't," Paul said.
"Oh, we're going for an insanity plea now, that it? You didn't beat the hell out of that boy for no reason."
"There was a reason," Paul said.
"Oh, okay, and what was that reason?"
"I had been jumped. Three guys knocked me down and started kicking me. The only thing I remember is that boot coming at my face before I blacked out."
"That very boot. How did you know it was that boot?"
"There's a cut across the toe. It's a white slash on a shinny black surface. I remembered it."
"So what you are saying is, that pair of boots, and one we've heard has your DNA on it from the beating you took?"
"I object, your honor, he can't use that evidence," the jack in the box DA said after springing to his feet.
"Yes, disregard. Might I remind you I've ruled on those boots. Now I'm telling you for the last time, get them off the table, and the jury is to disregard any and all references to that particular pair of boots."
"Why were you attacked?"
"I'm gay."
"A good looking strong boy like you. You're one of them?"
"I am a man who likes other men in a romantic context if that's your question."
"Ah, and so you think that's why you were jumped."
"Yes, sir."
"Took your spleen out, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Make a nasty scar did it? You've got a pretty nice body there. A scar like that must be an inconvenience when it comes to esthetics?"
"Your honor, is he making a point or what?" The DA didn't bother to pop up but he did look disgusted with the entire proceedings.
"Where are you going with this?"
"I want to see the scar. I want to see what they did to this boy's body. I think it's important to know why he might have gone off when he saw the boots we've already heard were the ones responsible."
"Your honor," the DA protested, almost standing.
"I'll allow it. I think that could be relevant to his frame of mind at the time of the attack. Yes, let's see the scar."
"Take your shirt off, Paul," his attorney ordered.
"Here," Paul said, sounding more bashful than I knew him to be.
"Yeah, we can take it. Show these people what it looks like after you've been kicked with boots like those," his attorney said, pointing to the boots now under the table as the judge glared.
"I'm not warning you again," the judge said under his breath.
Paul carefully removed his shirt as the jury watched. His body was still awesome. His arms and chest bulged.
"Turn around and let them see how your body has been scared for life. Show them what gay bashing looks like."
The red scar was still raw looking, although it was pretty much healed.
"Walk down there and let them see it close up," his attorney said.
"Okay, okay," the judge said. "We've all seen the scar. Put your shirt back on so we can get on with it."
"That abrasion under your arm, where'd that come from," Paul's attorney asked.
"The beating," Paul said.
"The scar by your eye? Where'd that come from?"
"The same beating."
"The messed you up pretty good?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, Paul. You can put your shirt on now. Why did you beat that young man the way you were beaten? You did punch him, didn't you?"
"I don't remember punching him. I know I did it. I'm not saying I didn't do it," Paul interrupted himself to clarify his statements. "I mean I knew I was there. I didn't think about it or anything like that. I was just suddenly kicking the shit of him. It was more a reaction to seeing those boots, I think."
"Language, Paul," his attorney said before anyone could object.
"I'm sorry," Paul said apologetically. "I'm sorry I did it. It just happened. I just went off. I really don't have any other explanation."
"You just go off very often."
"Never. I'm in control of myself at all times."
"You are the model of self-control."
"No, sir, I don't take anything off anyone. I mean I don't look for trouble, but I'm not going to run away either."
"Oh come on, you're gay. We know all about gay guys. They're weak, silly, not really men you can take seriously, are they?"
"I'm not much different than anyone else. I'll defend myself and those I care about. Just because I love men doesn't mean I'm not one."
"Oh, you're a different kind of gay guy?" His attorney asked.
"No, I don't think I'm different at all. I think a lot of men like men. They just don't admit it to anyone."
"And you do?"
"Yes, sir. I'm not ashamed of who I am."
"So you're special. You don't mind admitting it?"
"No, I'm not special at all. I believe in myself. I'm a nice guy. I try to treat people the way I want to be treated," Paul advised.
"Like you treated that boy?"
"No, sir, I was wrong. I'm not proud of what I did to him."
"But you could have gotten away with it. They made you a deal so you wouldn't need to come to trial? Isn't that true?"
"Your honor, he can't use that. The deal was never struck."
"I withdraw the question. If that man," his attorney said, indicating the district attorney, "Came to you with a deal that meant you didn't have to stand trial and risk going to prison, would you take it?"
"Yes, sir. Sure, I'm not a fool."
"But he did and you didn't?" His attorney questioned.
"The deal was that if I let the owner of those boots off the hook for attacking me, they'd let me off the hook," Paul said.
"Your honor," the DA said, shaking his head in exasperation. "That's not admissible."
"You shouldn't have heard that," the judge said to the jury after they heard it. "Disregard. Son you can't testify about a deal you didn't take. Do you understand?"
"No, sir. That's what he said. It's the truth. He'd drop this case if I would drop mine."
"I just told you, you can't say that," the judge said. "Disregard his comments."
"I can't say what's true?" Paul objected.
"There are some things you can't say. That's one. Move on councilor. You need to have a talk with your client."
"Can I ask one question of the boy he beat up?" Paul's attorney said. "Just let him answer from the prosecutors table."
"Sure," the DA said. "I don't have any objections. Answer the man's question."
"Who is the owner of the boots you were wearing the night you were attacked."
"I don't want to say that. My father said I was not to say that," the skinny kid said, looking for his father.
"Son, you know who I am?"
"Yeah, you're da judge. The big dude."
"That's right. I'm very big, and if there is one person that you want to obey that has a hell of a lot more power than your daddy does, it's a judge. I think it would be in your best interest to answer the question that was just asked."
"My brother's," the boy said softly. "They belong to my brother."
"You know his brother," Paul's attorney asked him.
"We've run into one another. I only know it's his brother because I was shown pictures of the guy that belongs to the boots and then they told me it was his brother."
"Your honor, this isn't part of this case," the DA said, no longer bothering to stand or raise his voice. "The boots are out. His brother wasn't even there."
"They're back in now, councilor. This is all very interesting. Let's see what he has to say. This is like a soap opera and I'm dying to know how it all comes out. Be very careful though. I can take the boots back out if you make me."
"Your honor!" The DA protested.
"Cool your tool councilor. I'll stop him if he goes too far."
"You say run into one another? How so, Paul? How is it you know this boy's brother. The owner of there boots," the defense attorney said as he reached to place the boots back on the evidence table in front of the jury.
"He called my lover a faggot and I made him change his mind."
"Oh, you attacked him too, and you said you weren't violent."
"No, I just made him back down. I made him see the error of his ways through conversation."
"Your lover? You're protective of your lover, are you? You wouldn't let any harm come to someone you love?"
"No, sir."
"You would fight to protect him?"
"Yes, sir."
"You would fight to protect yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long ago was that run in with the owner of these boots?"
"The month before I was jumped."
"Ah, so who was your lover that month? You gay boys go through a lot of lovers each month, don't you?" His attorney argued.
"No, it's the same guy that's my lover now," Paul said.
"And where's he these days?"
"Right there in the front row behind my seat."
"Nice looking boy," his attorney said, looking back at me as I blushed again.
"Gorgeous," Paul gushed.
"You love him?"
"Yes, sir."
"You know this is a court of law? You're under oath and you know what that means?"
"Yes, sir."
"So do you really love him."
"I really love him."
"That's all Paul. Thank you."
The DA pushed himself up out of his chair looking like he was ready to chew Paul up and spit him out. He watched the jury as he approached the witness stand.
"You beat that boy?"
"Yes, sir."
"There was no excuse for a guy your size taking on a boy that size?"
"No, sir. None. What I did was wrong."
"So you're guilty?"
"I guess I am, sir. There's no excuse for what I did."
"We never made a deal that you agreed to, did we?"
"No, sir."
"That's all. I'm ready to close, your honor. He's just confessed to the crime. I don't think we have much to be considered. We should be able to wrap this up today."
"Yeah, I agree. I think we'll hear closing arguments and let the jury go to work."
"The boots, your honor," the DA mentioned. "No, the boots are in. I think the jury needs to consider those boots," the judge said to the dA.
Everyone returned to neutral corners and Paul attorney stood and approached the jury.
"Yes, he did. He beat up that boy. If you look at the boy, he has no marks. There is no evidence. The pictures of his face show a fat lip and a black eye. Certainly he was punched. There was no evidence introduced that there was any permanent injury done. On the other hand you saw my clients marks. He was not so lucky as that young man. You heard the psychiatrist say, he isn't a violent lad. I don't think any good can come of convicting him of a crime under these circumstances. If ever there were extenuating circumstances, well, you've heard the evidence. He didn't plan this. He reacted to it.
"The DA will tell you what a reprehensible character he is and how he needs to be incarcerated for the good of society. You've heard him and you've seen him. He's a charming young man that suffered a terrible beating and when he saw the boots he knew were responsible, well, he didn't intend to punish an innocent young man. He was reacting to the trauma he suffered and I imagine anyone in those boots when he caught up with them might have suffered a similar fate. But I want you to consider this. You saw Paul's body. You saw the size of the boy he hit. If he was a "bad dude" he could have killed that young man. He didn't. He left no permanent marks. You saw the scars on him and you heard the story. It's up to you to decide the proper punishment. I know you'll do the right thing. Thank you."
Paul's attorney moved the boots as close as he could get them to the jury before he sat down.
"He admitted his guilt," the DA said from across the room. "What else do you need? The rest of what you heard was mostly part of another case. You are sworn to uphold justice and justice in this case is to take the defendant's own words as truth. He might be a brute but he's an honest brute. By his own admission, he did the crime, and now he needs to do the time. Thank you."
We sat out in the hall and people roamed past us. I was sick at my stomach and turned down lunch. Paul was no hungrier than I was and he held my hand. I could feel him shaking as we waited.
"I won't be virgin anymore by the time I get out," he said.
"Paul, you aren't virgin now," I said.
"Oh, well, I won't be then either. Maybe Dart will take care of you while I'm gone. He's not so bad for a jerk."
"Screw Dart. I'm going with you."
"You can't go to jail with me. I don't think they allow you to take your lovers to jail with you."
"That's not what I meant. You know what I meant," I said, scolding him.
"Yeah, I do but I needed to hear it. They might not decide today."
"Paul, what is there to decide? You are accused of hitting the guy. You admitted you hit him. The DA said that was the whole ballgame."
"Yeah, well, maybe it's a different ballgame. We can hope."
"You know I've got witnesses now. You can't back out," I said.
"Witnesses? What witnesses?"
"You said you love me under oath. That means you better not fuck with me," I said.
"Yeah, that was funny he let me say that. He was pissed off that we were holding hands."
"We weren't holding hands. You were holding my hands," I said.
"Yeah, I know. You really mind all that much, Z?"
"I didn't mind at all but you should have seen the jury looking at us. I wish you hadn't done that."
"I couldn't help myself. Did I ever tell you that you're irresistible?"
"I don't remember but I don't think they were thinking that."
"Yeah, well, if I'm going to jail for something it may as well be fore being in love with you."
"Quit saying that. I don't want you going to jail."
"It's out of our hands."
It was two thirty when the jury came back. They had gone to lunch and got an hour and a half, so it took them about twenty minutes to get comfortable in their seats and to talk over all the evidence and then reach a verdict. I was even sicker at my stomach when the judge asked them to read the verdict.
"Not guilty!" The man said after clearing his throat and memorizing the two words so he didn't say them wrong.
The judge banged his gavel and Paul shot straight up out of his seat and turned around to hug me. Everyone else was leaving and I was relieved.
I was at Paul's that night when the DA called. Paul said who it was when he picked up the phone. I listened to the conversation but mostly it was uh huh and yes, sir.
"He's getting five years," Paul said, hanging up the phone.
"Who?"
"The guy that kicked me in the head."
"What are you talking about?"
"They did a deal once I got off. They let all that stuff in my trial to let him know he was going to get convicted. The DA said that's the way they had it figured all along once I wouldn't cut a deal to get off. The judge went along with him to get the right outcome. Losing me meant they had him nailed to the wall. There isn't going to be a trial. It's over."
"He did what?"
"The DA said he was glad it turned out okay for me. He congratulated me for standing up for what I believed in. What do you think of that?"
"Justice?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Funny how it doesn't seem like a very just world some times but this turned out okay."
"Let's go to bed," I said. "Hearing about your legal escapades makes me horny."
"Is that all you think about?"
I thought for a minute and looked at how damn good Paul's chest looked. "Yeah, I guess it is."
Paul opened up his grand parent's house the following week and I helped him clean and move his stuff over. It took me most of the week to tell my parents I was moving in with him.
My father helped me move my things on Saturday. It took one entire trip. I just moved my clothes and the things I used every day. That way it wasn't like I was going for good. I'd move my other stuff a little at a time.
"Oh, yeah, your mother wanted me to give you these," Dad said, reaching into the front seat for a tin with aluminum foil sticking out all around from under the lid. "These are Paul's favorites. The Toll House Cookies he likes so much. She said you could have some but not before dinner, and don't forget Friday night. No excuses now, Z. She specifically invited Paul so the least he can do is come with you. She's trying, son."
"God, Pop, we'll be there already. He's not going to pass up a home cooked meal. Let's face it, after TV Dinners, pizza, and fast food all week, we aren't going to pass up a chance to eat real food."
"Well, good. You know we love you," he said, turning around to look at me. "You know I love you."
We were hugging before I knew it and it was like things were settling down between us. My mother had taken a lot longer than it took my father to figure out that I knew who I was. I think seeing how nice Paul was and how much we loved each other helped.
I'm sure they both hoped I'd change my mind but it wasn't something I could change or even wanted to change. I'd always liked boys and I loved Paul and I wouldn't change that for all the tea in China or at Henry's for that matter.
The End
My website: www.writersrealm.net
Other stories I have posted at Nifty: For serious readers who love love:
Discovering Gregory
Billie Joe's Journal
Shorter stories for minds that wander:
Blue Jean Bulge
Bean Ball I&II
Train Trip Trick
Keith's Pictures
The sanctity of marriage is a religious concept. Why are we so determined to force ourselves into the ceremonies of the people who already hate us passionately?
A Civil Union would give partners of all stripes equal rights. It seems to me, we are determined to shoot ourselves in the foot just so we can claim to be like straight couples.
We'll never be like them.
We are entitled to the same rights as married couples without the baggage of years of abuse, neglect, and divorce that permeates heterosexual unions.
And that's what I think.
See Yeah!