THE SECOND TRIAL- FORSAKEN DEAL

The jury had gone away for deliberation. As they waited for the verdict, Frank sat close to Joe who had become as cold and lifeless as the statues that rooted themselves in the Courthouse. His alabaster skin was so pallid and his expression so heartbreakingly empty.

"You’ll be alright. We’ll get you out."

There was no response. The two brothers and their family waited in silence. Hector soon appeared from the hallway and hurriedly approached them with a deal.

"I’ve spoken to the DA. They are willing to make a deal. The case could go either way. The sentencing before was 10 years. They are willing to shorten it down to 5 years." Hector then gently asked the next question, for the person he was directing the question at was much too still.

"What do you say Joe?"

"I want life or nothing." Joe looked up into Hector’s eyes, the emptiness replaced with mad resolution. "I killed her, no matter what you say, I killed her. I drove…" he shut the possessed blue orbs against the rape of his mind by guilt and loss.

Frank put an arm around his brother’s shoulders and Joe flared up at him. "Don’t you dare touch me again! You hear? Which part of don’t touch me do you not understand? It’s simple English!! I don’t need comfort…I need…"

You need her. But you didn’t kill her. You’re hurting, uttering rubbish. How can you foresee something like that? She seemed to all of us extremely healthy and happy. She was always happy when she was with you. It’s just a lovers’ spat. That’s all you’re guilty of. Don’t punish yourself.

You did not give her the gun and force her to shoot herself. You love her. You really do.

She made that choice. There had been many other choices but she went with that option.

I’m sorry brother. I really believe in the defense for you.

Yet, Frank could not voice the words in his mind. Joe could not see anything other than his own profound sorrow. And Frank swallowed down the lump in his throat as his parents tried to calm their angry child who had been so unreachable before and was now forcefully shutting everybody out.

"Take the deal Hector. I won’t survive five years inside anyway. I’ll go see her sooner." Joe asked of Hector calmly; madly. Hector exchanged anxious glances with Frank and Fenton. Laura sobbed as she begged with her child to never say such silly words again- wrenching pleas that went unheard. Maggie gripped Frank’s hand hard- afraid of Joe, afraid for Joe.

"Don’t listen to my son Hector. He’s crazy. He’s innocent. The jury knows he’s innocent. We’re not taking it. We’re going to fight until he is proclaimed innocent because he is." Fenton’s tone was just as resolute as Joe’s, only not in lunacy. "Go tell the DA to shove his offer down his…"

"The jury’s back. We have to go in now. You can still take the deal if you want. 5 years." Thaddeus Anson suddenly appeared in front of them. Frank never hated anyone so much until that moment, though he knew the DA was only doing his job.

"No. Never. My brother is innocent." Frank faced Thaddeus squarely and he nodded. Joe was almost screaming in the background for Frank to shut his crap and take the deal with a longer sentencing, with Laura crying and Fenton trying to shush him as gently as he could.

And Maggie still held on to me, eyes wide with horror. In her innocence, she was overwhelmed by the extremity of this scene.

"I need to hear it from the lawyer. What say you Hector?"

"We’re not taking the deal. Joe cannot decide for himself now that he’s so distraught."

"Alright. See you inside. All the best to you Joe." Thaddeus gave Joe an uneasy look before he opened the large imposing oak doors into the court chamber that would decide Joe’s fate. Frank prayed fervently.

Frank prayed like a mad man.

Let this cup pass him over, God. In You I trust. I have not been very faithful but please, I implore you. At this eleventh hour, I implore you…take him out of this.

Let this cup pass him over.

***

PRESENT

Frank looked up from his notebook to find Phil Cohen in front of him. The bespectacled, lanky, light brown haired guy with light brown eyes had a pleasant face that could not pass off as cute because it was lacking that inborn attractiveness. Phil was only a couple of inches shy of Frank’s 6 feet 1, though he seemed smaller because he was a little too scrawny. Frank would like to think that technological gadgets enthusiasts like himself was actually not as nerdy and geeky looking as stereotyping depicted. However, every time he saw Phil he found that he could not really blame the media for typecasting them as such.

He was in the central block of the campus that housed the main University Library that was frequented mostly by students of the Faculty of Social Sciences. Frank was working on his thesis on one of the wooden benches fixed onto tables along the corridor of the second level on the sluggish Monday afternoon without much success. In fact, he had been doing something totally different from studying for the last two hours.

Phil had been trying to peer over the top of Frank’s screen to see what business was he conducting with the grey, slim box. What he saw amused him and he chuckled. Frank appeared embarrassed but he was glad for the company. College life was getting pretty lonely. Next to Callie, Frank would have thought he had no other real friends, being so busy with his modules and papers to make any. Phil had not as strong a reaction to Frank’s testimony in court as Chet, Tony and Brian, yet, besides sharing an interest in all things technological, Frank could not exactly open up to Phil.

"Hmm…Championship Manager 2002….Frank Hardy. You should be doing your thesis." Phil shook his head in feigned disappointment. "Tsk tsk. What will your supervisor say?"

Frank laughed quietly and minimized the window for the soccer leagues’ simulation and up popped the Word document in the background with his name in huge fonts and nothing after that.

"Tada! My thesis. Pg 1 out of 1. You know something? I don’t think I’m going to graduate earlier than you guys after all."

Phil sniggered and clapped his friend on the back. Frank maximized the game’s window as Phil sat down next to him and connected his own notebook to one of the many network points in campus. The two friends clicked on their respective mice furiously, busy with their own study non-related tasks.

"Neverwinter’s coming up. You game for it?" Phil asked without looking up from his screen. Frank stole a quick glance at Phil’s slightly more powerful notebook and saw that he was doing an online order for the upcoming MPRGP.

"Nope. Not done with CM yet. I don’t really play online games too." He focused his attention back to selling and buying players. His own Manchester United Team was greatly different from the one in reality. For one, he had sold off David Beckham to some second-rated league.

Because Callie likes him and I’m jealous. And I hate Man U. I hope I can make them lose horribly in my game- in my world.

"Chet told me you’re going to look into Vanessa’s case again. We’d like to help…meeting them later…come along…let us help." Phil’s voice turned strangely serious. He even looked up from the web page that he was surfing at.

Frank paused his game and made eye contact with his friend. He had never found out how Phil felt about Vanessa’s death. He only knew that Phil had not given him that icy look that Chet had given him for a few weeks following the trial. Chet for all reasons understandable, because he had "hero-worshipped" Frank since they were young but it stopped when they hit fifteen. Tony’s reluctance to return to the same closeness to the brothers as before was for a reason that Frank deduced as-‘ a friend does not betray a friend’. Tony came from a tightly knitted Italian family and he had staunch ideas about relationships, though he was more of a flirt than Joe once was.

"Of course. I…ahm…I knew I never took the time to ask but…hell. You don’t approve of what I did right?"

"I heard Andrea crying in court. But I saw Joe as well. I know the position you’re in." Phil let out a sigh. "I don’t envy you. Anyway, it’s so long ago. Vanessa’s still dead. Hey! At least Joe’s safe and sound now and I think that’s all that matters to you right?"

Oh, you have no idea how safe and sound. Alive and unsound seemed more like it. Actually, barely alive.

Have you seen my brother lately friend? Each time I see him, my heart will break.

And I’m so sick of that feeling. I want him to heal. I don’t think he will in such a short time. How can he? I can barely stand the knowledge.

If I take a bazooka to State Prison and start shooting everyone, please don’t blame me. Oh yah, I’ll probably get the death sentence but on some nights, that’s all I want to do. Only my humanity stopped me.

I won’t stoop to their level. I’m not an animal. Not a bestial being.

Wait a minute…what do you mean by ‘all that matters to me?’

"Yah…" Frank muttered, a little peeved by the comment though he might be feeling a tad more sensitive that morning. He looked back at his screen, not wanting to play, not wanting to type, just staring at his wallpaper- the one that Joe had downloaded for him before all the mess started.

When his kid brother was still the impish, innocent and sometimes, tantrums- prone jock who played lively pop and rock on the piano.

"I saw this on a website! I thought of you immediately. It’s hilarious!"

Superman…in diapers. A joke of his. I wonder what he meant…never really got his meaning which was revealed in spurts of incoherent giggles.

"Vanessa’s like a sister to me. We did plenty of good artwork on the Mac…I do miss her."

Another admirer?

Frank eyed Phil curiously and shook his head. He was getting as paranoid as Joe. Phil was nowhere near the tree house in the stipulated time.

"I’ll go with you guys. Mr. Pizza?"

Phil’s rare somber mien brightened up immediately. "Yup! Great, now I’ll have a lift! My car broke down…"

Frank rolled his eyes. Some things never changed. He was still designated chauffer for everybody- just like before.

Oh. Callie. I haven’t told her…such an important thing and I didn’t tell her…

"No…" Frank’s voice trailed off. He knew Phil was looking at him with a funny expression and he chose to ignore it. "I haven’t told her."

"So it’s just the guys huh?"

"Yup. Just the guys. Until I tell her that’s it." He slammed the notebook shut without "shutting down" properly. It was a bad habit cultivated only lately. There was only so much frustration he could contain within himself.

"Let’s go Phil. I’m sick of campus." 

 

The four friends sat down in the booth seat at the corner of Mr. Pizza. Tony had closed the Pizza shop for the afternoon just so they could have the discussion. After Chet- who was putting in longer hours than was desirable for any sane college guy in his father’s eatery- told him about Frank’s efforts to seek Vanessa’s real killer, Tony thought it would be a good idea to get the gang together on the matter.

Because we were all at the cursed party.

Frank seemed to have misunderstood Tony’s reluctance to talk to him after Vanessa’s death and more so after the trial. From what he gathered from Chet who had frequent conversations with Callie, Frank had thought that Tony Prito hated him because he had damned a friend’s name. No, Tony was not like that. Tony was guilty because he knew about Brian and Vanessa but he did not warn Joe about it. And besides, if Frank had not done everything within his means to get Joe out, then Tony would really despise his friend.

If I had told Joe earlier or something, or hint to him to spend more time with Vanessa. Or convinced Brian to stop…manz…I didn’t do enough!

But If I had told Joe, would that hasten their break up and Ness’s suicide?

But is it true Ness committed suicide? Joe always had a temper………

Damn! I hate having secrets. I wished I had my eyes closed when I looked in the direction of the restaurant where Ness and Biff were dating at that one night!

"Any new leads Frank?" Chet sipped his mocha float as Frank downed another espresso in record time. Tony suddenly had the bizarre idea to put up a sign saying, "No caffeinated drinks to those named Frank Hardy," next to the one saying "No alcoholic drinks and cigarettes to minors."

"Not really…just that I think I have escaped one other probable cause of death before." Frank set his cup down and started tearing a paper napkin into pieces, concentrating on it, giving his jerky limbs after that caffeine shot some outlet to vent their hyper-activeness. "Maybe she fell and broke her neck. Maybe she was pushed and thus she fell. Then to make it look like a suicide, someone shot her with the gun in direct contact with her head and planted the gun in her hand."

Hmm…complicated.

"And Joe returned to the scene, saw the gun in her hands, reached a logical conclusion. In his guilt, in his grief, he picked it up. And so the story goes…" Frank finished his monotonous drone and so was the piece of napkin done with, its carcass in little pieces scattered over Frank’s side of the table. He brushed his palms together to rid them of remnants of tissue.

Phil frowned and pursed his thin lips together. "But who would want to kill Ness? She’s so…nice…" his voice broke a little, echoing the sentiments of the gang. Vanessa was a very beautiful girl. And it was terrible. Her death was so very terrible. They had to close her coffin. Her remains were too horrifying to behold, especially in death.

Brian threw up many times on the night we found Joe with Nessa in an almost grotesque embrace.

Embracing the dead. Nessa’s sweet but…it’s really…ewwww…. Vomit inducing.

"Motives? I…wait…didn’t Ness take the picture of a guy following Liz? We built upon that photo and caught the guy…" Frank drifted into his own thinking again, his eyes glazed over since he was concentrating his sight inwardly, sifting through his mind for that vague hint which could lead him to some knowledge or how to get to some knowledge. It was a practice that always frustrated them. The mechanism in Frank’s mind would spin and churn out thoughts faster than lightning when he wanted to but he would not share any of his thought process with any of them and thus, they had to bear with his silence until he analyzed all possible angles and come to his own conclusion.

"Accomplice?’ Chet spoke up helpfully, risking distracting Frank from his mental exercise.

"Maybe…but I remembered that photo…only one guy was taken…not two…I’d look at it again but it was destroyed…were there others that Ness overlooked?"

Phil was in a pensive mood as well. "Frank, don’t be too upset but let’s take your scenario…suppose Joe and Ness had a quarrel. Somehow maybe Ness fell accidentally and Joe was afraid, so he shot her to make it look like a suicide and then, appalled by what he had done…he went into that trance-liked state…"

Hmm…not a good idea Phil…not a good idea at all…

A dark shadow landed on Frank’s face. His eyes glinted with much flaming anger but his voice was as icy as the chill of the coldest winter, as calm as the deceiving lake which was much deeper and more treacherous than it seemed.

"Why don’t you come right out and say Joe pushed her. To make it look like a suicide he shot her. And appalled by what he had done, he could not go through with it and thus held the gun in his hand in a trance like state… Do you think Joe’s stupid? He would have hurried down to see if he could save her. Not destroy her face."

"But he was angry! He stalked away from her…" Phil leaned back against the ersatz red leather seat and closed his eyes. He was flirting with the revelation of the question that was in their hearts all along. A question they had not dared formulate words for.

If it’s not Joe, it’s Ness.

If it’s not Ness…its…

"Say it Phil." Frank challenged his friend, his eyes still deadly with that freezing chill, cold like the wintry night.

"Nothing Frank…Look, I don’t mean it. I just feel like we are grabbing at nothing…"

"Guys…we’re here to look at the possibility that it was someone else. Far-fetched as it may seem now, nothing is impossible and…as for what Frank said in court…"Chet gave Frank a look of understanding which Frank caught and was awkwardly grateful for. "I think we should let it pass. If Joe’s in jail now, I think we would not feel any better because in our hearts, we know our dear friend."

Yes Chet. Good one. Be diplomatic. We know our good friend. We know him so well…

He gets real angry. Very angry.

Old, suppressed demons were hard to keep down but thank goodness that Chet’s efforts to salvage whatever was left of this meeting paid off. Frank’s eyes melted and they turned into that deeply rich brown, instead of that enigmatic darkness which Tony was always a little afraid of.

"I thought of the first scenario you came up with too Phil. I thought of the second as well. I even thought of the third one, the one Joe confessed to in the first trial. I don’t know what I’m doing now, proving Joe’s innocence by proving Vanessa’s suicide or really going for the conviction that there’s a third party when it seemed too unlikely. My whole defense for him was reasonable doubt. Doubt. That’s what people look at him with these days. It’s no wonder he stayed at home all the time before semester started." Frank spoke quietly as he reached for another piece of napkin to torture. The starkly frosted anger had passed.

"Only Joe knew what happened. But he won’t recount the night to me. I feel, in his heart, he knew. It’s not him. It’s not. Maybe it’s not her either. But I know he’s not the one…not the one. You’ve all got to trust me on this. I don’t ask for much, just trust me on this. I’ll seek out the truth as best I can. I can’t guarantee it won’t be suicide. But I can guarantee it’s not Joe." Frank almost looked miserable as he eyed the pitiful, innocent piece of serviette unfocused, thinking of scenarios that he could never accept.

"We trust you Frank. Don’t we guys?" Chet gave them all quick, urgent glances, sensing that Frank was about to break down soon from all the running around, defending Joe and taking all the blame for the awful trial. Tony nodded vigorously and Phil gave Frank an apologetic look.

"I’m sorry. Just that we never talked about it much and now you want to re-open the case…it’s…it’s a little too intense. It’s like our wounds just inflamed and all those feelings of guilt just come back."

Tony gulped. Phil was so right. "I have a confession…I knew about Biff and Nessa…I just…"

"So many things that we never did…never took the chance to really appreciate Ness when she was around…" Phil added softly, earning himself some split seconds glances from everyone except for Frank.

"We don’t have foreknowledge fellas. If we had, I’d make sure we never have that party. And I’d make sure Vanessa and Joe thrashed it out in front of us. The tree house is a mystery now and I don’t know if I can get Joe to unlock it." Frank took another piece of napkin and started tearing it up into tiny little pieces again.

"We can’t help you ah…unlock Joey but we can help in other ways…maybe charm some girls or something…I can do that…" Tony offered helpfully, trying to cajole a smile from his gloomy friends. Chet supported his labor by breaking into a loud chortle. Phil chuckled and even Frank smiled and shook his head.

"You mention something about other photos. Vanessa always used a digital camera. If there’s any others, it should be in her PC." Phil would know about things like that. Tony knew Phil and Vanessa had an affair with some Adobe thingy.

"And how do we get to it? Andrea will never let us in…she’s living like a recluse since Nessa passed away. There’s Vanessa’s cousin Mina…but I don’t know if she could do anything without looking suspicious, if she would help at all." Frank ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips. "Trojan?"

"Online. Have to be online." Phil replied. Frank nodded and jotted down the option onto his IPad.

"What about the crime scene? We can go study it…maybe…I don’t know…" Chet offered a suggestion, not sounding as confident as before, when he was chiding all of them for Frank’s benefit.

"Leave that to me." Frank crushed the remaining intact serviette up and threw it into the ashtray on the table. "Leave that to me."

***

Frank left the group after about an hour. He received a call from Callie and hurriedly left them. It did not matter anyway, the four friends were not making much progress with the case. In fact, their conversation somehow drifted to Vanessa’s death and the guilt that followed.

It was sunset when Phil asked the question that was really on their minds. "Do you all think Joe did it?"

Chet and Tony could only bristle, not knowing how to say those five, simple words. There was no easy way to. So they kept silent.

We do have our doubts.