THE SECOND TRIAL

"Frank, can you tell us why we should believe you, with you being the brother of the defendant and all?" DA, Thaddeus Anson began his questioning with an expressionless face that caused Frank to be a little nervous. Frank calmed himself down, trying to think of Joe- to think of the fact that Joe’s freedom was on the line. He could not fail Joe.

"Because I will speak nothing but the truth. I swore in."

The DA nodded and Frank waited for the next question.

We have rehearsed. I can handle it.

"You worked with the Bayport Police as a part time Crime Scene Investigator right?"

"Not worked. Volunteered."

"And you have testified earlier that there’s reason to believe that the defendant might not have committed murder. Can you tell us the reason again?"

"Firstly, because Joe, I mean the defendant, could have picked up the gun after the deed was already done before he got to the crime scene instead of possessing it because he shot her. The emotional agony that he went through without anyone near him then to comfort or restrain him would be more than enough to warrant him to commit such a blatant mistake." Frank replied slowly and steadily, matching the DA’s unwavering gaze with one of his own.

"So if your brother did not kill Vanessa, who did?"

Frank shrugged while his heart sank inside. He would not say it, would not confirm it. That was up to Hector who would question the key witness in their case.

This is not my duty.

"I don’t know."

"You and your brother have had much experience dealing with criminals. In fact, your portfolio is impressive, almost as impressive as your father’s, Bayport’s famous detective, Fenton Hardy. Even in emotional duress, surely the thought, ‘not tampering with evidence’ would have occurred in your brother’s mind."

"And so you’re the expert on my brother’s psyche now. Try it, why not see how you handle seeing your wife lying dead on the ground. *In our cases, the police always had to drag the victim’s immediate family away from the crime scene because they had this impulse to touch the victim, to touch the things around the victim, to make sense of what had occurred, even as a symbolism of belated protection. Yes, Joe may have experienced seeing someone die in front of him before, but it does not mean he could be any more rational or calmer than those victims’ loved ones who had never had any dealing with crime scenes. He was distraught, he was not thinking."

The DA had bristled when Frank offered him a scary, alternative scenario but was too much of a gentleman to let his displeasure show. Frank needed that bristling to be obvious to the jury, he needed to paint that scenario to the jury.

And let them know how difficult and tragic it was to be alone, faced with probably the worst nightmare in one’s life.

"I have no further questions your honor." The DA announced. Frank felt a weight from his heart lifted.

"You may step down Mr. Hardy. Next wit…" The judge was about to dismiss Frank when the DA suddenly retracted what he said earlier.

"Sorry your honor, if you may, let me continue questioning. I have a sudden thought."

The Judge, though stern, was sympathetic to the District Attorney's side. She waved him on.

" Thank you. You suggested that the defendant had pulled the gun out of the victim’s hands, do you mean to tell us that it is possible that the victim, Vanessa Bender, might have killed herself?"

Frank stole a glance at Joe whose eyes widened in horror and he understood why Joe would have done those silly things to get his fingerprints all over the place.

In his intense guilt, he probably thought he was the real perpetrator.

"I did not say that."

"But you meant it."

"Like I said, I did not say that." Frank felt anger surging. He did not want to answer those questions, though Hector said it would be possible. Frank did not like to speak ill of the dead, especially when it was Joe’s girlfriend. He was more worried about how Joe would take it, rather than how his friends would see him.

"Only your brother was with Vanessa. Who else could it be if it was not Vanessa herself and as you suggested, not your brother either?"

"No comments." Now, it was Frank’s turn to bristle.

"Again, if it’s not your brother, then it must be Vanessa herself."

"Objection! Badgering the witness!" Hector rose up from his seat. The judge ruled in the DA’s favor.

"No comments."

"Dying to get your brother out, you and Hector Angrid will probably resort to Plan B, you know, pushing the burden of the crime to someone else, in this case, the victim. So, the plan B unfolds. I applaud your courage to betray a good friend." The DA was almost scornful.

"Objection, misleading the jury!"

"Control yourself Mr. Anson. The Jury is to disregard everything Mr Anson said."

Frank saw Joe mouthing "No, don’t do it" from where he sat, his eyes welling with tears. The DA wanted to expose their plot first before the psychiatrist could testify so the jury would despise them, would despise Joe for wanting to use this scheme to get himself off the hook, a scheme which would tarnish Vanessa’s name, his dead girlfriend’s name.

How can I turn the tide?

"I’m not doing this to get my brother off the hook. I’m doing this to seek the truth. My brother, Joe, is terribly protective of the people he loves. I can almost see it, that he had seen Vanessa there on the floor and wanted, in that insane moment of grief, to touch her, to feel her and to want to be with her even. And he picked up the gun, maybe…" Another thought hit Frank- what if Joe picked the gun up not to protect Vanessa by implicating himself?

What if he did it to shoot himself?

"To protect her. Knowing in his heart that most probably she committed suicide because he …"

Sorry Joe.

"He left her in anger after saying some hurtful words because he was in pain as well, but he will never kill her. He bought her an engagement ring. He would propose on that night. On that night. He loves her so much he will do anything to protect her name, including absolving her of suicide."

Then Frank eyed the DA with a steely gaze of his own. "The evidence points both way. But I know my brother. He would never commit such a deed. It’s ridiculous not to consider the other probable aspect."

And Joe eyed me with so much hatred then. So much hatred.

***

PRESENT

Frank had been staying vigil by his little brother’s side since he found Joe kneeling in the middle of the road just outside Storm, vacuous. Callie had overheard Maggie and Mina contemplating going over to Storm that night just to see if they could catch Joe performing in one of his gigs and somehow, a big brother instinct washed over him. He seemed to have this knack for knowing when his unpredictable brother would get into trouble. And he sure did. Callie’s intuition helped as well.

Earlier, he was frustrated by the jam that had occurred just outside Storm. The very real feeling of being so near and yet so far let loose all his bad-driver’s demons as he started joining in the cacophony of the cars horns. He was usually patient, usually able to suppress his annoyance. However, waiting in his car, unable to leave it because he was in the center lane while being just a few steps away from Storm, was simply too ridiculous.

As the traffic trickled slowly, he found himself- after a long wait- at the front row seats of the traffic to observe the commotion, or rather, the solo, human trigger of the traffic jam.

And he just had to get down and drag the guy away because it was Joe, confused about his surroundings, unsure of where he was.

Joe had been so quiet and wary of people around him. I watched him but he doesn’t know. I saw how paranoid he had become. Longer showers leaving the bathroom misty with heat vapors, never touching anyone if he could help it. And recently, sudden lapses into whatever realm he seemed so drawn to.

Why can’t he tell me? What’s so frightening about me? What’s so terrible that he can’t bring himself to say? Or is it the fact that I was the one on the stand who presented that possible cause of Vanessa’s death that he could never believe or accept?

But I can accept it. I can believe in it. It’s more convincing to me than Joe killing her in a bout of rage which is out of the question. Joe never lost it before. He’s not insane. He’s impulsive but he’s not a menace.

Does he hate me now? Was he protecting Vanessa’s honor the first time round? Protecting her the best way he could by absolving her in everybody’s eyes?

Oh, Joe…please…tell me…

He saw the blue eyes opening and looked deep into them. He was sick of Joe running away for close to a year since Vanessa died and unleashed a never-ending chain of anguish. He was so very tired of always having to be the one spraying the reinforcing glue on their bond when his kid brother just wanted to use thinner to dissolve the adhesive away.

"Tell me." He commanded Joe. It came out way too harsh. He saw his brother winced and regretted it immediately. Joe struggled up into a sitting position and mouthed for water. Frank looked around quickly and spotted Joe’s pitcher on his barely used study table and a dusty unused plastic glass next to it. Logical deduction would say that Joe never used the glass, drinking straight from the flask, something their mother used to give the both of them hell for but not anymore. Oh, she would still give Frank hell, but towards Joe, she would relent and ignore his usual shortcomings. She would scream at Joe for other things nowadays. She could not help herself, watching her youngest son fade away and there was nothing she could do about it.

He passed only the pitcher to Joe who drank it straight away, downing the contents rapidly like he had gone thirsty for forty days.

"So?" Frank prompted, but softer this time round. He sat down on the side of Joe’s bed as Joe leaned back wearily against the headboards. The soft blue coloring of his bedroom transformed into a murky backdrop piece almost immediately. How could it not, when the room’s owner was somewhere lost in his descent?

"Go sew buttons." Joe muttered, waving Frank weakly away. But Frank was not about to give up. He could not allow Joe to slip from him again. Now was as good a time for truth to spill as any other.

Since time never seemed to be good for the both of us anyway.

"Enough wisecracks, brat. I want to know. Why were you kneeling in the middle of the lane? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be praying when cars can just knock you down?" Of course Joe was not praying, any idiot with eyes could see. Joe seemed more possessed than in any holy rapture.

Possessed by his internal demons.

"I don’t. Now I know." Joe brusquely dismissed his brother’s attempts at getting him to open up. Frank, used to these tirades, was not conquered though. He was the stronger willed of the two, though Joe was more stubborn than he was. He would not be easily disregarded.

"Is it Vanessa? Do you really hate me so much, Joe?" Frank’s tone dropped, heavier than what he was used to. To get Joe out of prison, he had explored the theme that nobody could even bear to think of. He had to dig out deep, dark secrets of the Bender’s family secretly, and come up with a plan with Hector to make sure reasonable doubt stuck in the jurors minds, never giving them rest.

For that, Joe had not spoken to him for two months, and had drank himself silly until one night, Frank dragged him off to some AA meeting. On that night, the two brothers reconciled as Joe, in his most vulnerable moments, told Frank about his deep remorse, his guilt at being responsible for the his girlfriend’s death, how the women in his life always seemed to lose theirs because of him. And that somewhere, inside his mind, he wanted to still protect her, to love her and make sure her name would never be tarnished but he had failed because in that courtroom, her name was smeared with suicide.

"You can’t understand Frank, because you will always have Callie. It took me a year to get over Iola before Vanessa came into my life. I only had a trinket to remind me of the tragedy of a loved one before. Now, I have two. Iola’s keys…and this ring! This engagement ring that should have been hers that night! Should have been and she’s gone…how can any of you understand? I kill all I love..."

"Joe…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

"No, Frank. I don’t. You did what you had to do." Joe spoke dully, flatly. "You did what you had to do to get me out. I begged you to get me out."

"So, you’re not going to say anything else anymore, are you?" Frank stared at the floor, focusing on the tread lines of the carpet, willing an infant migraine to just leave him alone. "You know I’m always here for you. Always."

"I know…that’s why Frank…" Joe’s voice broke away from its emotionless drone. Frank heard resolution, shaky resolution and wild hope. "You've got to be with me on this."

Frank turned to Joe and smiled into the tortured face a warm kind smile, gratified that he would not have to deal with reticent Joe that night. "On what Joe?"

"You and I both marred her name to get me out. Now, we have to clear it. We have to because…" Joe touched Frank’s forearm with his fingertips, and though Frank should be jumping for joy at Joe’s slight openness to innocent affections once again, he was not. Joe’s touch felt like spidery legs running on his skin, sending unwanted electricity down his nerves, jolting him away inwardly.

"I believe Vanessa would never commit suicide." Joe held Frank with a steely gaze.

"Those grey eyes would never let me down."

***

Frank seemed startled by Joe’s revelation of what he had, in that few moments, decided to do. Vanessa died about a year ago and if there were any clues that could reveal a new side to the case, it would all fade away with time. He was however, hurt by Frank’s delayed reply. In fact, Joe had been waiting for 20 seconds, too long, and still Frank had not replied, just giving him those worried, anxious looks.

"Well?"

"Joe, it’s over a year…what else can we find?"

"She didn’t do it…"

"No one said she did." Frank replied remorsefully. "Hector only asked the jury to consider that possibility…"

"And it laid those seeds of doubts in everybody’s mind! My Vanessa! Mine! She would never…I know her, I know who she is! Hector did what he had to do…we’re not happy with it but it makes us responsible…we are responsible!" Joe’s soft voice raised a few notches above his usual whispers. The room trembled though not with his volume, but with the intensity he spoke the words with.

"It got you out, Joe…don’t blame Hector too much." Frank

"I know." Joe looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling, trying to keep it all inside him, because he was afraid to let it all loose. "And that’s what killing me."

He felt Frank touched his fingertips that rested on his brother’s forearm and for once, did not feel the involuntary shudder. He wanted that comfort; needed that comfort.

But when some warmth crept in, when love somehow found a way into his sealed tight soul to offer solace, Joe would catch it and throw it away.

He retracted his fingers, breaking Frank’s faint touch in the process. "Are you with me or do I have to do this alone?"

Frank’s eyes had that tired and hurt expression as always but soon, the expression passed and Joe could see understanding, not all of it but some, a glimpse. But it was enough. He knew his brother would back him no matter what happened.

I have been so terribly unfair to him. He got me out. Everyone hates him now for actually being the one to come up with the plan. It got me out and it damned him.

I wish I can make it up to you, Frank. I really do. And I will…I will pull myself out from this, but I need to know the truth.

Or my torment will never end.

"I’m with you, Joe. I’m always with you." Frank gave Joe the smile that would shine in those dark eyes, making it seemed like everything would be alright, everything would be fine. That smile had once made Joe felt protected from all the bogey monsters when he was young.

That smile that now gave him the promise that he could draw some hope from. It was his big brother’s smile, the Frank Hardy’s trademark smile.

And it brought Joe so much consolation, so much peace for a while. When he thought he could lean back and relax for a minute, the sinking feeling set in and the ice shards in his heart stabbed at him once again, mercilessly.

However, he was grateful for those few moments of release.