THE SECOND TRIAL- THE LAST DEFENSE

"Joseph Hardy is a young man who has experienced more than his fair share of tragedies. His first love had died unfortunately in a terrorist bombing. And now, he is put on trial for killing his second girlfriend. A second trial. The first one was too unfair, too rushed. Circumstantial evidence is not enough for this case. There was never even enough evidence to convict him in the first place. Loopholes were ignored. Possible scenarios are neglected and thus, not studied.

And today, we have plenty of evidence to acquit him. What do we know about the grief that follows a suicide? Vanessa Bender had once grieved for her dad so badly that she had wanted to join him. Wanted to join him for total number of ten times. If she had not received help to deter this malevolence force that had threatened her, she might not even have lived until her eighteenth birthday.

A loved one left behind after a suicide would feel intense guilt, an unbearable guilt that they had killed the victim, even though they did not make the choice for the victim. Joe was suffering from this deep remorse that we can only sympathize with and thankfully, not feel. As Frank Hardy testified, Joe is very protective of those he loves. He knew she had suicidal tendencies before and he knew what had occurred in that room. To absolve her, he implicated himself. Somewhere in his mind, shocked at seeing her in that state, he wanted to take the blame. Out of remorse, out of madness and out of love…"

PRESENT

 

Joe eyed Frank, askance. He saw the duplicated file and reached out for it immediately, only to have Frank quickly holding it up and out of his reach.

"Uh uh…we’re going through this together back at home." Frank held on to the case file with a death grip and Joe twisted his lips in anger.

"What’s inside it that you don’t want me to see?"

"Nothing. Just…let’s do it when we have a proper desk and a proper mindset alright?" Frank’s tone was final and Joe could do nothing but seethe at him in the driver’s seat.

Maybe Frank would see it as one of Joe’s old tantrums, but Joe knew where the anger was coming from. He did not trust the police one bit, they must had put something in the file that Frank did not want him to see without first thinking of a way to alleviate whatever monstrosity that the case file might probably cause him. From the looks of it, it was almost certain that Frank was thinking extremely hard inside his mind.

Because he seemed too calm and cool. That was no good.

Yet, respecting his brother’s wishes while he still had the room in his heart to think about another person for a while besides Vanessa and himself, he drove them both- not back to the sweet old Tudor house from which clutches he had escaped that morning- but back to campus -or rather- back to his rat’s nest in campus.

And missing quite a number of turns along the way.

***

Joe could smell Frank’s displeasure at the sight of his room, could taste it and feel slightly perversely pleased by it. His room, which was shared by Shane, was lacking the factor that so many thought was important to a comfortable living space- neatness.

But he knew every inch of his mess, he knew exactly where to reach in through each stack of his notes and grab the correct section that he wanted, if only he could remember where his notes were. And with the rampage on his mind, the mess had never been more chaotic.

The two beds were unmade. Dirty laundry littered the place. The back of his lecture notes were being used to scribble down messages for Shane and somehow, they got lost in the pigsty and Shane hardly ever received any memo. Scattered emptied snacks wrappers completed the abstract presentation of the modern art fest. Joe was proud of his room.

In a weird way, I call this now my home.

"Your room stinks of stale air. Where’s your table hiding now?" Frank almost tripped over a sneaker belonging to Shane stained with mud from some soccer game and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I should start doing spot checks more often. It had never been this messy before."

Yes it had. But whenever you announced that you were coming over to bunk in for a night, I have to skip lectures to clean it up, to fake that…I don’t know…normalcy?

I’m letting you have a peek at the me now. Do you like what you see? Can you accept it? You can’t. it’s clearly evident. And neither can I.

But I have to live with me for the rest of my life. This room is but a passing cloud.

Joe pointed to a stack of clothes and books all dumped together on top of something and Frank rubbed his temples. "Joe…I can’t work here."

"I can. Look, I’ll clear it up…I don’t really want to go back home." Joe started sifting through his desk and contemplated using Shane’s instead, since it was the only clean surface in the whole room. Shane never studied, hardly attended lectures and probably, never even knew he had his own desk.

And he still could scrape through all the time. Wayne was right. We should study.

I’m hanging around smart people too much…what’s this? John Keegan’s The Second World War? Why would I have…

OH GOD! Oh oh oh oh oh…I did enroll for this class…what’s the name? Some War thingy…I better check the schedule…it’s been 4 weeks…man…how did I end up in such a mess?

Ah Ha! A question I shouldn’t answer now.

He gestured at Shane’s table for Frank to use, afraid he would find more hidden, untouched textbooks on his table, leading him to discover other modules that he had signed up for and forgotten about. Sometimes, he wondered where his mind went to. And he remembered the rubbish he had scribbled on the test on Friday and smiled.

His brain had waged war on him. That was what his brain was doing.

So be good now. I need your help though Frank’s overly compensated one might be enough.

But I need to say something smart now and then alright? Good. Glad we’re clear on that.

Frank pulled a chair over to the table and Joe sat down on his own, standing up immediately because he was sitting on Shane’s spectacles. Though he had lost some weight himself, he was not light enough to not deform the thin, titanium frame. Tossing the ruined spectacles onto Shane’s bed, Joe sat down again and gave Frank a pending look.

"So?" His gaze bored down deep into his brother’s eyes. Frank leaned back against the chair, still holding on to the case file as if his life depended on it.

"Promise me you’re not going to go crazy."

"I promise I’ll try my best." Joe answered impatiently. "Oh…just let me at it!"

He reached over and grabbed the file from Frank’s grip with lightning reflexes gained from his years of being a star quarterback and a celebrated sprinter. Frank was quick as well, having the agility of a cat from his martial arts expertise. Yet, Frank had not the element of surprise on his side while Joe did and the file was rudely won over.

Probable Cause: Suicide

Reasonable Doubt. All they wanted was reasonable doubt to get me out. They might as well finalize it. Cancel away Probable.

"Joe?"

Joe slumped against his armchair. Something had just knocked the wind of him. Guilt pushed him deeper and deeper into the abyss and she seemed so far.

So very far.

"Are you alright? Joe? Remember to breathe…you’re not breathing…" Frank’s voice grew more and more distant, the room seemed smaller and smaller.

I’m not searching for the truth am I? I am searching for you…for you…

And I can’t find you…

"Joe?"

He drew in sharp breath, willing himself not to give in, not at a time when time was crucial. Another day of letting the statement stand would be another day of letting Vanessa’s name be smeared with injustice. And knowing that he was the one leading to that statement in the report, he wanted to reach into his heart, tear it out and see if it belonged to a human or an animal.

An animal.

"I’m alright. I’m just…I’m alright. Can we go through it now?" Joe let the emptiness fill him up again, numbing the pain, if only for that moment. Numbing the it. It. The It he did not want to ever allow to surface.

The two brothers poured over Con Riley’s written report to find some loopholes, to see if they could spot anything that they could not before. At least Joe knew Frank was doing it. Each impassive word written on the paper was a bullet through his heart.

Had he always felt this way? The feeling got so old that he no longer remembered the days before this incident. It felt like he had always been like this forever.

Forever. You can close your eyes and imagine and yet not reach a Nano-fraction of its majesty; its power; its endlessness.

An unceasing wrenching at my heart. That’s my forever.

 

"It’s all in this report, as it is. She died from a gunshot wound through her forehead. The force caused her to fall. She hit her head and broke her neck. Instant death." Frank summarized the report for Joe’s benefit.

"What did the statements say?" Joe asked dully. Frank frowned as he scanned through his friends statements. It was all the same. They were at a party. Strangely, Vanessa and Brian were not talking when they had became rather close two months before graduation. Chet and Brian saw Vanessa and Joe take the back trail and assumed they went to the tree house.

Nobody wanted to lay any judgment on any of the three of them, knowing that love could be a tricky thing.

They all heard nothing. The music was loud and everyone was dancing away. The tree house was a good distance from the Chet’s house as well. However, Chet’s and Frank’s statement differed a little. Frank’s was inclusive of the conversation he had with Joe and Brian, which led them to seek Joe and Vanessa out.

And led me to the most tragic sight I’ll ever come across.

"I can’t think of anything with this. Can you?" Joe inquired after Frank briefed him on what they already knew. He could never think of anything with anything anyway. Frank had always been the brains behind their operations. The dark brown-haired head shook.

"I think we need to look at other stuff as well. Maybe talk to the gang again."

"That’s good. I’ll draw up a plan later. And we’ll follow it." Joe mentally prepared himself for the mammoth task ahead. He was not very good at organizing anything. In fact, all organizational activities that the brothers ever did together was actually done solely by Frank and Joe just went along.

Come to think about it…did Frank solve all our cases and I just went along?

And Frank knew and was amused. He raised an eyebrow and despite the seriousness of the situation and started to snigger. Joe looked up at him, a little betrayed.

"Hey! I can do it alright! It’s just…I don’t know…write things down and put numbers next to whatever I’ve written right?"

"Yah, right." Frank almost burst out laughing.

"What else do I need to do? Put in times? Dates? Deadlines?" Joe threw his hands up in surrender. He was flustered. Frank was not helping by snickering.

"Close enough. I think I can slot in some time to finish college, get my Masters, marry Callie and have some babies by the time the plan is drawn." Frank’s voice was full of mirth. Joe knew his brother was joking, everyone seemed to be pulling wisecracks but him these days.

He has forgotten it’s Vanessa we’re talking about. Marry. Have babies. He deserved it. I don’t…not really…not after…

HEY BRAINS! LIKE I SAID, MY GRIEF IS FOR VANESSA ALONE!

"I’ll have the plan up by tomorrow. You don’t have to gloat over my impending failure at this simple task." Joe scribbled doodles on a piece of rough paper, or what he thought to be rough paper. He would turn it around later to find that it was actually his syllabus for the history course on the war thing that he had not attended a single lecture for yet.

I just need to keep my mind occupied or I’ll flare up at him. I don’t need to. Neither does he deserve it.

"I’m not gloating Joe. Sometimes I just wish…"

You wish by looking at me with pensive eyes, with sad eyes, with blazing eyes and even with indifferent eyes- that I will turn around and tell you I’m ok and actually mean it.

It’s not going to happen, Frank. I know you only wanted to go back. But I don’t think it’s going to happen.

I can’t see how…I really can’t. Something is blinding me.

Is it me?

"I know. I wish for that too." Joe shut his brother up. Frank sighed and somehow, the both of them were at lost for words. A common thing actually. Far too common.

"So, you joining us for dinner tomorrow?" Frank had to ask; had to instill some guilt in him at that moment when he felt his cup was already runneth over with it.

Because the answer is No.

"I’ve got a gig…" Joe gave the excuse that he had given for far too many times. The gig started at ten thirty at night. Joe had plenty of time to be with his family before it but he did not want to go. He felt like he was the doom and gloom of the once happy household. Not only did he detest their too obvious efforts in trying to regain some semblance of yesterday, he also hated himself for always casting a dark cloud on any sunny days that they might have.

And Frank as usual would look at him with that disappointed expression which made him feel smothered. His brother’s love was suffocating him, putting guilt trips on him that he did not need.

Not now Frank. Not now!

"Before we meet Mom, Dad and Maggie, I was thinking maybe we can go ask the gang about Vanessa at the party or something…you know…just…" Frank dangled the carrot in front of Joe’s eyes. Joe wanted to seek the truth. Frank knew which of Joe’s buttons to push.

"I’ll try." He promised without much of a commitment. He was sure Frank knew the answer meant that he would most probably not make it, though there was still a slim chance that he just might.

Only a slim chance. Sunday’s my day of rest.

"Alright…" Frank stood up. "I have to go work on my papers. Get them out of the way so we can concentrate on this…and Joe…"

"Yes?"

"I never doubted your ability. I didn’t mean what I cracked just now…"

Joe nodded and waved his brother away. "I want to sleep." He closed his eyes as unwanted tiredness came over him again. "You’re going to do your paper the whole day? Not meeting Callie?"

"Nope. I’ll come fetch you at around four tomorrow? Will that be alright?" Frank asked gently, and Joe rolled his eyes behind closed eyelids.

I’m going to be 20 this December! Stop treating me like I’m a kid who needs to be cuddled!

Not that anyone will ever cuddle me. No..never…not after…

There I go again. Why can’t think happy thoughts? Searching for Happy thoughts…nope. No happy thoughts. Someone reprogram my brains please. Got to ask Frank for a new version of Windows for Joe Hardy.

To whichever omnipresent being writing my life story or deciding my fate… please, change it or kill me off. It’s pretty tiring to always feel so gloomy…

And not be able to do anything about it. Nothing. Zilch. I HATE MY DAMN SCREWED LIFE WITH MY DAMN SCREWED BRAINS!

"I’ll go myself, maybe we’ll go visit Chet first. See you bro." Joe stood up and walked towards his bed. It was so enticing, so soft.

And so very treacherous.

I’m drawn.

He lay down on the bed and sank under the covers, leaving Frank unsure of what to do but he no longer had any other room to consider Frank’s feelings anymore. He closed his eyes and let sleep take over. The restless sleep that would leave him feeling more tired than ever.