THE SECOND TRIAL

"Mr. Garnet. Can you tell the court what’s your profession?" Hector prompted Vanessa’s ex- therapist whom Frank had passionately pleaded to appear in court. Benjamin Garnet had been reluctant to testify but Frank had cajoled, done multiple visits and at his wits ends, he actually knelt down and begged.

It was embarrassing, it was terribly humbling.

But when it came to Joe, I cannot let shame get into the way.

And Mr. Garnet had agreed. The battle was not won yet, but Frank knew he had all the ammunition he needed.

"I’m a therapist. I treat mainly patients with depression." Benjamin Garnet replied, warming up to the tough questions that would follow.

"And was the victim, Vanessa Bender, one of your patients as well?"

"Yes. When she was fourteen."

"Why would she come to you?" Hector knew the reason of course. Frank had dug it all out, all the gritty details.

"Patient-Doctor confidentiality agreement." Benjamin was not as forthcoming as Frank had hoped.

"Would it be because she tried to commit suicide once, after her dad’s own successful attempt?" Hector read from his file though he knew it all by heart. Frank heard a gasp and he knew who let it out.

Andrea, Vanessa’s mother. She had avoided the Hardys after the incident and after the revelation of Plan B yesterday by the DA, she had been glaring at Frank. There were so many apologies he had to say. He felt terribly guilty because he knew a mother need not hear all those things. If their lie turned out to be true, Andrea would be the most hurt by it.

I can feel each dagger that she shot from her eyes into my heart, piercing it, sending rivulets of blood to drown my lungs. Can anything feel worse?

Yes. If they convict Joe again. That will be much much worse. Infinity times worse.

And judging by the way Joe flinched as well, Frank knew then Joe knew about Vanessa’s once depression- ridden past, so different from her cool, collected self that the gang had seen.

"No comments." Benjamin replied, but the slight curl in his lips told the people otherwise.

"Please Mr. Garnet, a young man’s life is at stake here. Did Vanessa Bender come to you because of suicidal inclinations?"

Benjamin paused for a while and looked sidelong at Joe who was stiff and paler than the palest shade of white. He then eyed Hector with a look of resignation. "Yes."

I heard Andrea cry behind me. I wanted to drill a hole in the ground and crawl into it.

"Will you say that Vanessa Bender might have committed suicide because of her seemingly failed relationship with the defendant, Joseph Hardy?"

"Is she depressed? I don’t know. I can’t say."

"If she is, do you think, after your dealings with her, that she is capable of such an act?"

Benjamin shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Frank watched Joe stare into space, an emerging zombie.

"If she’s depressed, that still does not mean she would do it. Vanessa had grown stronger from her terrible experience."

Hector nodded grimly. "Are you certain that she would not do it?"

Benjamin shifted again. Frank had read the reports. Vanessa had attempted to take her own life when she was fourteen for a total of ten times, almost once for each month of her tormenting fourteenth year on Earth.

"No. Anything is possible. I’m just saying probably not."

"So there’s reasonable doubt about her incapability to take her own life."

Andrea’s sobbing got even louder. Frank knew Callie was behind him, an arm around Vanessa’s mother who had lost her family within a short span of four years.

"There is. I’m not going to confirm anything." Benjamin looked down on the ground. "I really should not say anything else."

"Just one more question. Did Vanessa’s father kill himself by shot through the head?"

Benjamin pressed his lips together, pausing for a very long time. "Yes."

"Was the day she died her father’s death anniversary as well?"

"Yes. Are you finished?"

"Yes and thank you. I wish to summon Dr Jimson, a leading psychiatrist dealing with suicide grievers next." Hector informed Judge Banks who nodded.

"Alright. Please proceed." 

***

PRESENT

Joe fell asleep after around an hour of silence between the two brothers. Frank was unable to get him to open up more but still, Joe did seem sane when he wanted for them both to re-open Vanessa’s case, to seek the real killer.

Yet Frank had, in those dark shameful moments, been convinced that Vanessa had killed herself. To defend Joe credibly, he forced himself to believe in that formulated lie which was Joe’s strongest defense. It was in that trial that Frank had second thoughts about his final choice of profession. Everyone had been shocked, they had all thought Frank would step into his father’s shoes.

I know. Dad placed so many expectations on me. He kind of knew if any of us are ever going solo, it will most likely be me, not Joe.

I still have time to change. I can break the bond, pay Hector back in installments.

But I really like what I do. Really.

Just the Plan B part.

"Frank…" Frank found himself looking into his father’s eyes. So he had wandered, lost in his own thoughts all the way outside to his father’s study and almost bumped into Fenton.

"Dad…it’s late…why aren’t you asleep yet?" Frank queried. His parents, if they could help it, slept before eleven every night. Now, it was already one in the morning and Fenton was in a suit.

Frank could never keep up with where his father went, especially since Fenton’s cases would jet him off anywhere at a moment’s notice. But Frank knew Fenton had gone down to the NYPD to pay his old friends a visit but he had no idea what for. Yet, he knew if he asked, Fenton would tell him. His father was used to unloading much of his own burdens on his eldest son’s shoulders. When Fenton was not around, Frank had, at a very tender age, being made to take care of Joe and Maggie when she returned from boarding school during breaks. And as he grew older, he became the surrogate father as well as the head of the house in his father’s absence.

Not that he minded, but it was very pressurizing. Sometimes, Frank felt like he was being smothered, unable to catch a whiff of fresh air.

"I just came back from New York. Come into my office. We’ll talk." Fenton’s eyes were hooded over, and large eye bags were clearly prominent in the haggard face. Frank felt a pang of sorrow. Fenton had aged many years out of worry for Joe, out of remorse as he thought he had failed his son. His profession had kept many innocents out of jail, but he had watched helplessly as his precious flaxen-hair boy was being led in to fulfill his sentencing.

And came out a stranger to us all.

But you did not fail, Dad. We got him out. He’s never going back in.

There’re some things…call them products of fate if you want to…that we cannot control.

He sat down on the leather armchair opposite his dad and fiddled around with some stationery lying around on the once immaculately neat desk. Fenton abhorred messiness, just as much as Laura. They both joked around all the time, wondering from whom Joe inherited his sloppiness.

But now, the desk was cluttered with files, pencils, paper clips and some other assorted knick knacks, reflecting the mess in Fenton’s mind recently. His dad took on fewer cases and seemed so intent to stay at home as often as he could, which Frank was so grateful for. Especially on weekends. Fenton would arrange his schedules such that nothing touched his weekends. If he had to turn down profitable cases because of his new philosophy, so be it. On weekends, Joe and Maggie came back home from the dorms to stay.

"What’s up, Dad?" Frank mustered up a smile though he was very tired as well. However, it was a Friday, he had no classes on Saturdays. He could sleep late, only that Joe wanted to look through all the evidence, all the reports and anything remotely related to Vanessa’s death, trying to see if they could spot something that they could not before.

"I asked a favor from my old friends, to look into the prison riot. I was not for one moment fooled. Joe was the only hurt. After we left, and he went back in, they put him into solitary confinement for a month, having to let him out because he was going crazy. He was going crazy anyway. But when we went back to visit when we could, he never showed that side to us, trying to be brave. My stupid, thickheaded son. He could have told us then, and we could…"

Frank knew what was Fenton getting at. The two of them had always been questioning the incident, the terrible loopholes. Yet, they had been so afraid to seek out the truth because sometimes the lie was easier to bear. But he guessed his father had let go of the fear to finally tread into the dark, murky waters. Frank was not sure if he was ready to hear though. He had kept asking Joe if Joe had anything he wanted to tell Frank, yet, with the truth so close to him now, he wanted to escape.

Because I’m so afraid. I’m so afraid for Joe.

His dad mouthed the word, unable to even speak it aloud. But Fenton might as well be shouting for it was deafening to Frank’s ears, weighing heavily down on his heart. Sometimes, ignorance could really be a blessing.

An innocent mind a release.

So this is what Joe had been protecting us from, protecting me from. Just as he protected Vanessa’s name.

Joe.

"Frank, we must keep this to ourselves for the time being. Don’t let your mom, auntie and sister know about it yet. Try to get it out of Joe, so we can start helping him. I look at him…and I feel like I’m losing him a little by little, day by day and torturously so." Fenton then grabbed the bottle of cognac he kept on his table and poured himself a glass. He offered it to Frank who shook his head.

"I don’t drink when I’m emotionally unstable. I’ll overdo it. And you shouldn’t as well." Frank spoke rationally, trying to keep his mind thinking, to not let his emotions get the better of him though his voice was cracking. Alcohol was sure tempting. Now he knew why Joe had fallen prey so easily before. He thought his brother was weak, thought his brother was trying to run away from reality. Now, he could hardly fault Joe. Reality was the real nightmare.

But he’s recovering. He is. I helped him before with Iola. I’ll help him now with Vanessa.

And with this. This horror. This bane.

That should never have occurred.

***

 

"Why are you looking at me funny?" Joe spoke over the kitchen table as the family was having breakfast. Frank shook his head, trying to clear his sleep still. He reached for the salt to sprinkle on his omelet, ignoring Joe’s paranoid look.

"What?"

"Nothing. No one’s looking at you." Frank smiled wanly, remembering what Fenton had told him the previous night with heaviness- the bursting at the seams to confront Joe and get Joe to open up to him never seemed more treacherous, more urgent. Joe frowned at him and played around with his food some more. Frank then recalled how Joe always used to eat with much gusto and sighed.

So things did change. But is the change final?

"You got tomato sauce on your lips…that’s why Frank looked at you funny." Maggie chimed in. Frank always felt much more lighthearted with Maggie around nowadays. Her boarding school experience had made her independent. On top of her quirkiness laced with an impulsive attitude and stubbornness, she had a fiery temper and a jovial nature. Frank was sure if Maggie had not gone to an all girl’s boarding school since she was young, she would have strings of suitors after her. But her talent in the violin was discovered early, just like Joe’s prowess in piano. Yet, Joe had refused to pursue music, preferring to live the normal teenage life, to be close to the big brother he hero-worshipped, to pursue sports instead. Maggie had been excited and before Laura could pack for her for her first semester in LeBach, she had already packed herself and now, after so many years, her violin was taking her places.

At the young tender age of 18, going on to 19, she was already doing a direct Master program with UB before pursuing a PH.D in the near future.

She has a bright future. My little sister with those golden curls, dancing brown eyes and cute little button nose.

And so short as well.

I thought height ran in the family.

Irrelevant thoughts to not get me to think too much about my brother or he’ll surely guess.

"Oh…." Joe wiped his lips absentmindedly. "Sorry for snapping at you. You could have told me the truth." He told Frank and Frank cringed inwardly, taking Joe’s words in a different context.

I can tell him the truth, that I know about it.

Fenton raised his eyes from the paper that he was reading and Frank marveled at his composure, having seen his father so despondent the night before. "I was thinking we could have a family dinner tomorrow night. There’s this nice restaurant here, advertising. We can give your mom a break."

Laura, who was flipping pancakes grinned at her husband, mirth in her eyes, mirth so sorely lacking in the family. "I thought you guys had forgotten about me and how hard I work around here. By the way, Gertrude called earlier this morning, she would be back next week from her trip."

Fenton circled the number on the advertisement and a smile emerged from the seemingly perpetual harassed demeanor. "So tomorrow it is. We’ll go together. I hope none of you already have plans or you’ll have to cancel them."

"I’ve got a gig." Joe mumbled, trying to cut his ommelette up into a million pieces. "Can’t cancel."

Laura turned around, disappointment flashed on her face. "Joe, why do you have to work so hard? Do you need more allowance? I’m sure we can come to some agreement. You have gigs from Thursday to Sunday, your schoolwork might be affected."

Always mom, the concerned mom. Get ready for a cold rebuke.

"Mom, I work hard because I like what I do." Joe was stubborn, he was not going to give in. "I think tomorrow night I’ll prefer to go to the gig than go for dinner which I won’t eat anyway and all of you will just watch me play with my food."

Maggie tried to ease the sudden tension. "Hmm…why don't we go see Joe’s gig tomorrow?"

Ooh…the audacity.

Joe slammed his fork onto the table. "Why don't you just shut up? I haven’t finished with you yesterday, going unaccompanied into that kind of place…"

"Which you frequent and work in. Why are you hiding it? You’re good!"

Joe muttered a rude word that incensed Laura. "Apologize at once to your sister. She’s right. You never share anything of your life with us anymore. We’re not strangers, Joe. We’re your mom, your dad, your sister and your brother. Your dad really wants us to share a nice dinner together. You haven’t had dinner with us in a very long time."

"Because I don’t eat dinner! I don’t eat lunch! And I hate breakfast! We’re having a nice family breakfast, aren’t we?"

"Why you insolent young…"

"Laura, keep your cool. Joe, drop it." Fenton stepped in between mother and son. Frank suddenly lost his appetite. Joe being angry for almost no reason, and Laura frustrated badly that she could not reach out to her son who had run to her, taken her hand and always had a goodnight kiss for her before, was a scenario that was happening more and more often.

If only Mom knew. I’m sure she’ll storm into State Prison with a chopper.

"Sorry, Mom. And shut up in the future, Maggie. You’re not allowed in anymore. I told the bouncer to throw you out onto the next street if he had to. I’m done with breakfast. Meet me outside, Frank. We’ve got work to do." Joe stood up and strode off, his hands in his pockets. A common sight actually.

Somehow in the "riot", someone had scalded his hands with boiling hot water, leaving them burned and scarred for life. Physiotherapy allowed Joe to used his fingers as well as before, but they were a little hideous to look at.

And so he hid them, for they remind him.

"Uhm…I’m done here too…don’t worry. I’ll try to convince him to join us for dinner tomorrow. Regardless of what happen, we’ll have that dinner." Frank stood up and prepared to leave as well. Laura stopped flipping the pancakes and faced away from them. Frank knew his mother was crying, it was apparent, her shoulders were shaking. Fenton had already left his seat to console his wife.

"Honey…don’t cry…it’s ok…" Fenton hugged his wife, the terrible secret of yesterday nowhere to be found on his face. Looking at his father, Frank wondered if he had imagined the horror of the night before and wished he had, but his father had mistaken Frank’s stare as an indication that Frank wanted Fenton to reveal to Laura the truth and gave Frank a look of warning.

I have not imagined it after all. Life’s not that pretty.

"I know what my baby went through…I know he’s hurting…why do I keep flaring up at him?" Laura sobbed into Fenton’s shoulders and Frank could empathize. He wanted to scream at Joe a number of times too but he managed to keep a lid on himself most of the time.

Most of the time. I understand Mom. Joe’s not easy to handle. He was never easy to handle before, being so terribly naughty and stubborn. Now, he’s near impossible to comprehend.

Just hang in there mom. I promise I’ll bring the old Joe back to us again. Maybe not entirely the old Joe, but a healed Joe. I promise you that.

Frank left as Maggie went over to console their mother as well. Joe had already taken the van out into the driveway and was waiting in the driver’s seat. Frank would prefer to take his own Ford but it seemed that his little brother was set in their choice of transport.