Chapter 1 – Eyes on Me
AUDIN
“Objection your honor, hearsay.” I sit down after objecting for the umpteenth time today, I am bored with the to-and-fro of this idiocy. The state prosecutor is hellbent on getting a guilty verdict. I have an ace up my sleeve, but I am not ready to play it yet, I am finding this quite entertaining.
I am defending two men charged with murder, not my first rodeo with these two and I am certain it will not be my last. I have managed to obtain not-guilty verdicts every single time, their previous charges range between murder, arson, attempted murder, and manslaughter, the list is endless. I have stopped keeping track of all the charges that have been brought against them. They have so many files in my office; that I have allocated an entire cabinet to these two. I know deep in my heart they are guilty as sin for each and every crime they have been charged with to date. I have thus far been lucky to get them off every time, either with a technicality or sometimes, and I dread saying this, witnesses disappearing never to be found to testify against them. I know they, or rather their boss have a hand in the disappearance of the witnesses. They have never told me his name, the only thing I know about their boss is that he is an extremely powerful dangerous businessman with a lot of influence not only in the States but in other countries as well. They are so loyal to him that they would rather bite off their tongues than rat out their boss.
Every single time the not guilty verdict is given, I receive a hefty bonus in my bank account from an unknown person, who I assume is their boss. I have tried giving them a cheque for the same amount every time the money is deposited but I always get the same answer, “If you don’t accept the money, we die”. I do not want their deaths to be on my conscience. Then they also pay my actual bill, likely from money received from him as well, or rather what I assume is a “him”.
Today in the courtroom something feels different or rather off for some reason. I have had this nagging feeling since court started that someone was watching me. I tried discreetly looking over my shoulder a few times, to see if I could spot anyone, I have not been lucky thus far. It must be because I am on edge today. This case is not an easy one; my two clients allegedly murdered the local butcher in downtown New York. The entire courtroom is packed to the brim with people and the victim’s family. He was an Italian who immigrated with his parents when he was a mere child. This caused a massive uproar with the Italians; he was using his butchery as a ruse to smuggle drugs abroad and apparently a deal went wrong. Hence the murder charges against my clients. The butcher as they called him was supposed to send the drugs to their boss and the shipment never arrived.
Standing up from my chair I smooth the invisible wrinkles from my pencil skirt. My arms hanging down my sides I stare at the judge through my specs with a bored expression and request a mistrial. The entire courtroom gasps, and the judge hits his gravel hard a few times before everyone settles down. The State Prosecutor looks at me as if I have grown a pair of horns. He thinks he has this case in the bag, he always does, always underestimating me.
“On what grounds Miss Coleman?” the judge barks at me.
“If I may your Honour, I would like to play video footage of my two clients having dinner at an Italian Restaurant at the time of the murder.”
Before the prosecutor can object the judge interjects, his tone annoyed and angry, if his facial expression is anything to go by, he is about to erupt from anger. “Why are you only asking for a mistrial now Miss Coleman after hours of testimony by witnesses, furthermore, why do you think I will believe that the footage is authentic? Your clients are repeat offenders and no strangers in my courtroom!” he bellows.
His anger doesn’t faze me for a second. I am used to the bastard of a judge. He, with the prosecutor, has tried and failed many times to get my clients behind bars.
“With due respect your Honour,” my voice dripping with venom, “My clients may not be strangers in your courtroom, but they have never been convicted of any charges laid against them. Secondly, it was quite entertaining to listen to the false testimonies of the so-called witnesses; thirdly, I have a letter from your preferred or rather appointed investigator, confirming that the footage is indeed authentic and has not been tampered with. This places my clients twenty blocks from where the murder took place. Therefore, my clients are innocent of all charges. I would like to move for a mistrial and for all the alleged witnesses to be charged for perjury.”
The judge allows the footage to be played; he has no choice but to. The date and time stamp clear on the footage, evidently showing my clients enjoying dinner at Palomino’s.
The footage arrived this morning via courier with a brief note that said “Ace.” I know for a fact that the date and time of the footage have been changed. The so-called investigator is on my client’s boss’s payroll. My clients admitted as much when we met for the first time to discuss the case. I have always asked them to be honest with me, to my dismay they have been explicitly honest, detailing every little thing they do to their victims. This is how I find my loopholes the mere thought of everything they did and still do sends shivers down my spine with horror. Frankly, I know they are dangerous men; however, I have never felt unsafe when they are alone in my office. I know, it makes no sense, it is just a feeling that I have that they will protect me for some reason.
The judge has no alternative but to declare a mistrial. Needless to say, the entire courtroom erupts; voices raised people start to fight. It is complete and utter mayhem.
Vinny and Carlo, my clients, push me into a corner and form a protective circle around me. I am facing the exit of the courtroom. I notice a very tall man with black hair exit accompanied by a few other men; he is in the middle of all of them, the men forming a protective circle around him. He is so tall he towers over everyone in the room. I only see the back of his head before he disappears. NYPD clears everyone out, arresting some people in the process.
The courtroom is empty save for me, Vinny, and Carlo. “You are safe with us, Miss Coleman. We will escort you to your office. Your usual fee will be paid today. Our boss is eager to meet you. It is his first visit to the States, and it is all because of you, our queen.”
Not understanding why Vinny was referring to me as their queen, frankly not caring, the only thing on my mind is to get the hell out of here to the safety of my office.
“I don’t need you to accompany me Vinny; I can take care of myself,” I say grabbing my briefcase from the desk and walking briskly towards the exit not caring if either one of them follows me.
I feel them behind me without looking back.
“We insist our queen, otherwise we will be dead if we don’t take you there ourselves.”
I just want out of here as soon as possible, Vinny walks in front of me, Carlo following close behind. Walking to my car, Vinny steers me to an unknown black SUV in the parking lot.
“Vinny, what the fuck!” I shout when he grabs me by the arm and pushes me inside the SUV.” I don’t hear an answer; the last thing I remember is seeing the most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on before I pass out.
