The Thingummywut: August 2008

Yay! My brilliant naming skillz have been appreciated! Ph34r! Which is all the l33t speak you will get out of me. Oh D4mn, I did it again. Well, moving along. Hello all, nice to see the blog up and running, for those of you who remember that I used to be on Blogger, I do indeed have a new account because my old account used a netscape email address which was long since canceled.

So! I kind of feel like I should post angsty poetry or a short story or something here, but at the moment, I don't have anything to write about.........

Oh! I know! Something that i was proud of from my past. It did not go anywhere, but I always thought that it was good enough to deserve to be be rewritten some day. What do you guys think?

Rain

It started with rain. It always seems to start with rain, doesn't it? In the books, it is always "A dark and stormy night." This was not a book. There were no lightening flashes across the sky, no monster was being made. It was just raining.

Indy sat on the roof of the tenement, her bare feet kicked the wall, rubbing against the heel of her foot. The water pooled on her dark skin and rolled off in small rivers. Her short hair lay flat against her scalp, and her eyes were closed, all of her mind focusing on the feel of each individual rain drop touching her, beading, rolling off, soon to be replaced by another, on and on, with no end. As the rain picked up, there soon seemed to be no point at which one drop hit and separated. There were just streams coming down through the clouds, like so many threads hanging off an overused carpet. A sound of a slamming door echoed below her, through the alleyway four stories down, over which her feet hung. She stood up slowly, got up from her perch, and opened the old rooftop door behind her.

A boy came bounding through it, laughing hysterically, his light blue eyes wide with excitement, and his long blond hair streaming behind him in long spikes. His face was red from exertion, and he sat down immediately, pulling Indy down with him. The door swung closed behind them with a small clang, then a click of the door automatically locking from the outside. The boy grinned, almost more as a way of hiding fear, than truly being happy. He held out a green snake skin leather purse to Indy, then lie back on the rough roof, closing his eyes and opening his mouth to catch the rain. He licked his lips, and slowly his breath slowed to a normal pace.

Indy, meanwhile, was staring, speechless, at the purse. She spoke slowly. "Silver, where did this come from?"

The boy looked at her out of the corner of his eye, then closed his eyes again. He seemed to fumble for the right words, gave up, and merely mumbled, "Found it."

Indy turned it over in her hands, put it under the shelter that the two ha called home for over a week now, and came back over. "Where, exactly, did you find it, Silv?"

Silver looked at her again. Though they were about the same size, he had always been slightly in awe of Indy. She had the presence of a queen about her. Few could lie to her, and those that could, would not last for long. "On the street."

Indy stared at Silver for a long second, then said, "Maxwell. Tell me where you got that purse. If you found it, we should return it." She put an extra emphasis on "return" as if she were accusing him of what they both already knew, but wanted him to admit it.

The boy winced at his name, knowing that he could not bluff his way out. "I might have found it... in the banking district.... On a bus stop..." He worked the words around in his mouth, trying to justify his actions. "It was sitting next to this woman in one of those three thousand dollar dresses the models wear. If it was hers, she obviously did not need it. And I thought about how we have not eaten anything but restaurant's garbage for a month. All of the jobs I interviewed for turned me down because I am short and blind in one eye. No one wants a disabled street bum. No one who wants anything done right, anyway. I could not even get a job at the school being a janitor. They said I had to be able to read." He turned away from Indy. "And I saw it lying there next to me, while I was trying to wait out the rain... and the lady was talking to the man next to her, and I just.... didn't think. I just ran."

Indy sighed, "Well we have to return it, we can't steal, it isn't right. I don't care how low we get, it's not worth abandoning our morals."

Silver leaped up and looked at her, his good eye blazing ferociously at her, the other rolling back and forth, as if trying to focus. "If we do that, then we will be arrested. The police in the city don't care if we had a reason, they don't even care if we were the ones ho took it. They will ignore it if we leave well enough alone, but they will arrest whoever it i that brings in stolen property! Remember what happened to Rose?"

Indy sighed. She did. Rose had been a sweet girl who had never had anything going for her. She had found a wallet on the ground, and, finding an address in it, had happily taken it back to the owner. He had opened the door with a stun gun in his hand, had 'defended' himself, and Rose had been sent to trial for theft, assault, breaking and entering, and vandalism. The man had even blamed the egg some neighbors boy had thrown at his house on Rose. The jury had been unanimous. Rose had been sent to jail, crying her eyes out, and was going to be there for twenty years.

Indy sat down under the shelter, and brought her knees up to her chin. Her stomach growled pointedly. Shaking her head, she said softly, rationalizing as she went along, "I suppose if it was a rich person... and we just took the money, but threw the purse in a window or something... then it would be all right..." She opened the purse and pulled out the wallet. Her eyes grew wide, and she pulled the thick pile of bills to count and make sure. There was over twenty thousand dollars in old thousand dollar bank notes.

Silver started at them and whistled softly through his teeth. "Are those still legal?"

She nodded slowly. "I think so, but they are really hard to track, being so old. Who did you steal from?" She shook her head, finding that she as already thinking of the things they could do with that amount of money. "We have to return it, there is no way we are going to take that much money..." Her voice trailed off as she saw another thing in the bag. She pulled out a brown paper package, which looked suspicious next to the rest of the contents of the bag, there were no papers, there was no clutter, just a few pens that looked to have cost several hundred dollars and a stationary pad. Then there as the package. It gave slightly in her hands, like a bag of coffee grounds. She opened one end of the paper, and a small amount of white powder tumbled out. She stared at the powder in her hands and put the package slowly back in the bag, laying the wallet on top of it. Then she turned to Silver, who had not missed a thing. He was frowning in concentration, which was never a good thing. Then, he looked at her, as if struck by a revelation.

"Do you still want to return it?" He did not even look at her, he stared only at the bag lying in Indy's lap. He raised one eyebrow and blinked slowly. He was thinking of all the different foods he could eat. His mouth started to water just thinking about the idea.

Indy looked at him levelly, and said, very decisively, "Yes. To the police. And they will figure out what to do with this. And before you ask, no we are not keeping any of the money, or any anything else." She put special emphasis on that final clarification, as she could see the idea building in Silver's head. He had grown up on the streets, and had been told by everyone he had met that he was good for nothing, and that he was nothing but common thief. She had had a house once, her parents had given her to an orphanage, where some semblance of morals were taught to the children. Then they were dumped onto the streets at age twelve. She had wandered for a while, and had eventually found the building that they were sitting upon. The top floor had been vacant, it leaked and the rooms that were not wet were beginning to collapse into the floor below, but when she tried to take shelter inside, the man who owned the building had had the police run her out for not paying rent. She had convinced him to let her live on the roof, and had been thee since. There was a small kitchen nearby for people who could not afford to eat, so she lived on one meal a day plus whatever she could scrounge from restaurants for five years. She had met Silver a year before, and they had immediately taken a liking to each other. She had convinced him to stop stealing, mostly anyway, and they had been relatively happy. Not comfortable, but happy.

This however, was something new. She knew that he had never really wanted to give up stealing, it was a living, and he certainly seemed to need more food tan she did. She had caught him trying to go through twice at the kitchen on several occasions. She could tell that he was thinking about the money there was in selling drugs in the back alleys of a big city.

Silver looked at his feet and sighed. He helped her to her feet, and muttered a resignation of honesty and followed her into the building.

The building was four stories high, but the entire top floor looked like it was condemned. The third floor was reserved for people who could not pay much more than a meager amount from pickpocketing. It was about half empty, and the tenants were always leaving, being replaced by new, but equally desperate looking people. Indy had found several people dead on this floor, always something different. But no one cared about the people who could live in these conditions. Indy's ears pricked up as she heard a moaning from behind a closet that had in white letters "Janitor," underneath was written, in sloppy pink paint "Professional Housekeeper." Indy shook her head and walked on with practiced indifference. Mary, the cleaning lady had been known to take a few jobs on the side. Silver, however, stopped and listened for a moment before continuing on. He always had an ear for anything that could be considered a secret. He saw Indy walking quickly away, and hurried to catch up with her.

The next floor was slightly better. The doors had paint on them, albeit peeling, and the doorknobs actually needed to be turned in order to open the door. These were the middle class rooms of the slums. The people who lived here might have actually had a job shining shoes, or possibly fencing watches. Another janitor closet was next to the staircase to the first floor, from which a short yelp was heard, then a man came running out in a bathrobe and a lady's blue peacock feather hat perched precariously on his ear pursued by a pair of leather shoes flung through the air and a woman wearing a similar bathrobe shouting obscenities. Indy again ignored the proceedings passively, as if it were no more impressive an occurrence than a cat crossing the street. Silver however, watched eagerly to see if the man was caught, but the pair rounded a bend in the hall. He had to run again to catch up with Indy.

At the bottom of the building was an open lobby with three rooms branching off. One doorway was a single unisex bathroom, another was the owners apartment, complete with gold plated door knocker, and the third was a staircase which led down into the basement. It was always kept locked, for reasons the landlord kept private.

***

Indy led the way to the police station, the place where they spent most of their time avoiding. If you were below a certain class, it was no use going to the police for safety, odds are you would be arrested, or at least thrown out on your ear. But with an amount of money that size, the police would certainly be interested, the problem would be if they did not believe the story that Indy had been forming in her mind. It was simple really, Silver would say he found the bag under a bus bench, and that no one had been around. He would say he carried the bag back to the building to ask Indy what to do, then they decided together to return it. They had no idea what was in the bag. If asked, then they would admit they looked and saw the money, but would swear it was all there. They would pretend not to know about the drugs, and they would also not make any mention of their surmising that the bills were so old as to be untraceable. That would all be suspicious, and things the police would already know. In short, all they would allow to be drawn out of them would be that there was money and they did not want to take it.

As they neared the station, Silver stopped, and looked around nervously. Indy looked at him quizzically and said, "What's wrong?"

He shrugged uneasily. "There is an expensive car over there, unattended. I was afraid that whoever it was that I took..." Indy swatted him, "found this bag from, might be somewhere nearby, who else would be rich enough and secure enough to park that car down here? There would have to be some sort of security. Think about it, you would have to have enough connections to make people afraid to steal the car...."

Indy shook her head. "You're over thinking things. We'll just walk in, give the money to the police, and leave. Nothing is going to happen."

Silver nodded, and walked into the station ahead of her, eyes shifting back and forth, but saw no one who looked like the woman he had stolen from, so he held the door open for Indy, and they went to the desk, side by side. The man behind the desk was typing up a report on the computer, and ignored the two. The half wall between the lobby and the man was uncomfortably tall, and seemed to be made for someone eight feet tall. Indy cleared her throat, and the officer glanced at her, then Silver, and went back to his work. Indy cleared her throat again, pointedly, and the man sighed, standing up, seeming much taller than he really was, loomed over the pair. "What do you want?" He spit th words out, as if nothing could be more contemptible than speaking to Indy and Silver.

Just like that, the plan started to collapse. Indy, who had been planning to be very clear and respectful, could muster nothing more than a stammered apology. Silver quickly started to speak for her. "You see sir, we, that is to say, I, found this bag under a bus seat, and, uhm, it seemed like it might be valuable, so I thought I would take it here, so no one would steal it." He found himself placing the bag on the counter uneasily, and stepping back.

The policeman nodded slowly, eying them suspiciously. "What's in it?"

Silver gulped, and spoke slowly, using simple words, afraid his mind would fail him if he tried to explain himself in more detail. "There.... is..... money..... in..... the..... bag...."

The man stared at him, narrowing his eyes. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Silver stumbled back another foot. "N-no sir!"

"Then why the hell are you talking to me like some retarded person. You may have to talk that way to your black companion over there, but not me. Now, how much money did you take?"

Indy managed to regain her speech at this point, enraged by the comment. "And what is that supposed to mean? I'll have you know, that I am smarter than any one else in our block, and my race has absolutely nothing to do with it! My friend and I were just returning a bag, and you insult me and accuse him! Maybe we should just take it back!"

The officer looked at her impassively, then turned back to Silver. "How much money did you take?"

Silver shook his head frantically, but was hit by the same panic that Indy had felt. "N-n-n-none. I... I..." He stopped and went pale. The woman had just walked out of the back room. The woman he had stolen from. The woman who had just seen him.

She yelled loudly, pointing at him, "There he is! That's the little thief who attacked me and stole my bag! Arrest him! Beat him! Shoot him!"

The men in the police department, who had been lounging at the water cooler, typing at a computer, suddenly seemed to grow and multiply, they all looked up, suddenly interested. Several reached for their night sticks. By this time, however, Silver had already grabbed Indy and they were running out of the building. A man who had just walked in the doorway gaped at them, and was knocked down in the way of the officers. Indy and Silver leaped down the stairs outside and ran full tilt down the road. The officers were right behind them, there had to be at least six men. Soon, shouts were heard up and down the street, and they turned down and alleyway, hoping to get to the next street over. On the other side, there was a police car waiting. Silver pushed Indy back into the alley and stood still.

Indy hissed at him through clenched teeth, "Silver, what are you doing? Get down!"

He spoke out of the side of his mouth, "If I turn myself in, there is a chance that I can explain, and it will all turn out all right."

She looked at him incredulously. "Are you an idiot? Did you not see what just happened? That woman accused you and no one, not two, but six officers got up and chased us down the street, mobilized the cars, and who knows what else! Now you think you can talk them into letting you go?"

He started at this, and went paler than he already was. He started to back into the alley, when some one in the car spotted him. "Alright, we see you, why don't you come back out of that alley and lie down on the ground, face down."

Silver moaned, and lay down on the hot pavement. The officer walked over slowly, hand on his gun, and handcuffed the boy. Roughly lifting him up, the man brought silver to the car and shoved him in the back seat. Locking the door, the officer pulled out the radio and called the other officers. He had a brief discussion with the other police men. "Picked up a kid sneaking around an alley behind the station. Is the kid your looking for short, scrawny, got a lazy eye? All right, be right there." He got into the car and drove around the corner to where the station was. Then he was out of sight.

***

In the car, Silver had realized the trouble he was in. He had thought that by being brave he could somehow be saved. The good guy always wins, right? But in the back seat of the police car, facing a law that was against him any way he looked at it, it did not seem like he was in much of a position to win. The doors were locked from the outside, the front seat was separated by a metal grill, and the officer at the wheel did not look in the mood to talk. Silver could do nothing but sit in the back seat and wait to be taken to the station.

At the station, Silver was booked as if he were nothing more than a common criminal, which, he supposed he was, technically. After being booked, the police asked some standard, preliminary questions, name, age, where he lived, and then Silver was put in a cell. The cell was small, having a small wooden bench on one side, and a toilet behind a small partition. There was a water fountain positioned above the toilet, drawing from the same pipes, but Silver chose to avoid that until absolutely necessary. He lay down on the bench and had started to fall asleep when he heard the door rattle open. Looking up, he saw a man with light brown hair and brown eyes walk into the cell. The man smiled at Silver and sat down on the bench next to him. Sitting up, Silver looked at the man closely. He was carrying a small battered briefcase, which seemed like it was just barely holding the contents in check. He had a slightly shabby suit coat on, and his trousers looked like they might have matched the suit before being accidentally bleached. Silver was unsure of who he was, so he let the man speak first.

The man, obviously dealing with this reaction before, was happy to oblige. "Paul Sampson, I'm your lawyer." He held out his hand genially, and stared at Silver pointedly.

Silver cocked his head to one side, and said, "I'm Silver." Then, catching himself, "Maxwell, sorry sir." He limply shook the lawyers hand and let go.

"Silver's fine with me, if that's what you like to be called. Do you have a last name?"

Silver shook his head, slightly embarrassed. "I don't know sir, I never needed one, didn't seem important."

The lawyer frowned at this, "Well, that could make things awkward, what did they put on the form when you came in?"

Silver thought about it, and said, "I don't really remember sir, I was a bit nervous.:

The lawyer nodded knowingly, and walked over to the door. He spoke to the guard outside the bars, and was handed a clipboard. Bringing it over, he sat down again. "Maxwell Maxwell, age sixteen, place of residence, 143 West Street. Fairly generic information. They assumed you did not have a lawyer, or that you could afford one, am I all right, or would you prefer to hire your own?"

Silver shook his head. So far the man seemed like he was as nice a lawyer as anyone was apt to get, and he figured it did not really matter. "You're fine."

The lawyer smiled and nodded. "All right then, we are partners. Now, lets go over what you have been accused of, shall we?"

Silver grimaced, and nodded, saying, "I did steal the purse, and I guess I ran away from the police, but I did not really think about it, and I assumed that my friend would be happy to have money, but we thought about it, and we returned it, and that's all that happened, I swear! I did not try to hurt her, she was just sitting there, and I took the bag. I gave it back, too!" His words came out in a rush, letting out all of the events of the past day come out. The lawyer listened thoughtfully, and nodded after each fact.

Finally, when Silver was done, the Lawyer spoke. "Silver, I want you to know, that I believe you. They assigned me to your case because I usually like problem cases, but your story is much more believable than what I have here. I'll read you the list. Breaking and entering, theft, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, attempted rape, drug dealing, possession of illegal drugs, the list goes on. I don't know where to begin looking at these things. This should be an easy case, there is no way one person could have done all this in one day. And you do have an alibi, right?"

Silver hung his head. "Not really. I was just on the street until I saw the woman... no one can confirm that either, at least, no one who would be considered trustworthy...."

The lawyer frowned again. "You weren't doing anything yesterday, you left your home and did not go back until you had the purse? When did you leave?"

Silver thought hard. "About seven, maybe? Indy could tell you..." He stopped. She was the one person he did not want to drag into this.

The lawyer picked up on this, but, of course it was his job to use any means possible to get his client off. "What can you tell me about Indy?"

Silver shook his head frantically. "I did not see her since I left. We usually go our separate ways most of the time. I had been out trying to find a job, she had picked dinner up for me from the nearby kitchen."

"You said you were looking for a job. Where did you go?"

Silver shrugged. "I dunno, the normal places. Restaurants, the department of unemployment, I even applied at a bank to be a janitor, but they told me I had to be able to read.; I couldn't figure out why. That was the last place I went to before the incident. When I saw the purse, I thought I would not have to get the job, and I ran."

The lawyer nodded. "So I just need to go by the bank and get them to give me the form you signed, which would prove you were there at least."

Silver nodded slowly. "Would that help?"

The lawyer grinned. "Yes! The woman says you attacked her near her house! This could be an easy win after all!"

Tapping on the door, the lawyer was admitted to exit, and the bars clanged back behind him. He waved to Silver as he left. "Have hope! We should be done with this withing the week!"

***

During this time, Indy had been going around to all of the places she could think of that might have seen Silver on the day he stole the bag. At the merest mention of the word police was a cue to start ignoring her. Even Silver's best friends seemed to have never heard of him, as soon as they found out that he was in prison. She walked back to the tenement building, dodging the man in a bathrobe, who was running out of a different closet, pursued by another angry woman, and opened the door at the top. There, waiting for her, she found two police officers. They were standing next to a sheepish looking man in a shabby suit. The shabby man stepped forward, but was stopped by one of the officers. The officer put one hand on her shoulder, as if she were planning to escape, and spoke quickly, saying that she was wanted for questioning. She nodded slightly, and the officers led her down the stairs into a waiting car. She looked at the shabby man as he climbed into the car beside her. He smiled kindly.

"So you're Indy? Silver seems to think highly of you."

Indy glared at him. The mere fact that the man had spoken to silver in jail meant that he was probably an enemy. She spoke stiffly. "It's Indica. And his name is Maxwell. I have nothing to say to you."

The man smiled again. "It's all right, I'm his lawyer. I'm on your side."

Indy started, and sheepishly said, "Sorry. I just assumed you were...."

"One of the bad guys? It's all right, I don't mind. But I went by the places where he applied for work yesterday, with the forms he filled out and your testimony, I think we can get him off on nothing more than petty theft. He'll have to spend a couple weeks in the jail, but that if far less than what Ms. Nash will get for having that amount of cocaine in her possession. It will all turn out all right, don't worry."

Indy looked at him. "Who's Ms. Nash?"

"Oh yes, that's the name of the woman, she's an unsavory character, that one. Anyway, as I was saying. I have managed to have the court date rushed so Nash does no have time to get her story straight. It will start two days from now. I need you to testify that he did not leave the building until..." He looked at his papers, "seven thirty."

"But he left at five that morning to go find a job."

The lawyer looked at the driver and shushed her. "If he left at seven thirty, he has an alibi,if he left before then, the case might be significantly harder. Apparently he did not start to look for jobs until later in the day. If he was off the record for two hours, he could have bought the cocaine and planted it in the bag. It's not much of a case, but the prosecution will play it for all it's worth. Now, if you say he left at seven thirty, he got to the first place on the list at quarter till eight. We can work with that time frame. So will you do it?"

Indy looked at the man. He was smiling at her, acting like he really wanted to help. She wanted to help Silver so much, but she was not sure she could lie in front of an entire court. She glanced around the back seat, looking for something to stall with. The back of the car was dirty, the seat were torn up, and seemed like the vinyl coverings had been covered in something sticky several times over the years. She picked at a rip in the seat, and nodded solemnly. "Fine, I'll do it."

The lawyer shoved his papers in bookcase and closed it with a snap. "Good. Then we should have this all cleared up by the end of the week. With luck, Silver will be out within the month, he did return the purse, after all. So, how long have you two been together?"

Indy started, having been lost in thought. "Oh.... I met him about a year ago. We just kind of fell in together. Then we stumbled o that place, so we just stayed together."

The lawyer nodded. "So.... are you romantically involved?" Before Indy could start to speak, he cut her off. "Better I not know. Ah! Here we are!"

The officer pulled over, got out, and opened the door on the lawyers side. Before Indy could start to go out the same way, the other officer opened her door and put his hand on her shoulder firmly, and pulled her out of the car. She was led up the steps of the station as if he was a convict, and was led to a questioning room. She gave mechanical answers to all of the questions, which started off simply enough.

"Name?"

"Indica Meyers"

"Place of birth?"

"I don't know, I was raised in an orphanage."

"Relation to the defendant?"

"Friend."

The list went on. Indy began to get tired, and apparently showed it, as the officer questioning her offered her some coffee. She drank it gladly, and continued answering questions. Something soon seemed to be going wrong, however.

"Age?"

"17"

"Place of residence?"

"143 West."

"Street or avenue?"

"Street."

The questions were getting more monotonous, she was wide awake, and she was on her third cup of coffee, when she found out what they were trying to do. She had to go to the bathroom. She tried to put on a nice front, smiling as the questions came on, sipping very slowly at her coffee, trying not to drink any more, but soon she found her eyes were watering. Finally came the last question.

"Anything you want to tell us about your friend that might be helpful?"

She answered quite positively, "No."

The officer nodded. "All right then, wait here." Water was streaming from Indy's eyes at this point. As the officer left, she heard angry words from outside, and the Lawyer rushed in, helped her up, and led her to the restroom. He waited for her and brought her back to the room.

She muttered to him, "That was a dirty trick they pulled."

He nodded, "But it does not qualify as torture, so it is as close as they can get. It is a fairly common method to make people agreeable."

The rest of the questioning was over quickly, and Indy was taken to a fairly nice bedroom in the back of the station. There she would wait out the two days without once seeing Silver.

***

The day of the trial was rainy. The water beat down on the old, tapered windows, allowing only a faint light filter in through the yellowed glass. Two of the bulbs in the court room were burnt out, occasionally flickering above the witness stand, distracting everyone. The trial seemed to move at a hurried pace, as if everyone was reading from a script. The prosecution brought up several witnesses, ll of whom swore they had seen Silver attack people on several occasions, Silver said he had never met any of them in his life. When Indy was called, however, everything slowed down. The prosecutor was a large man with a greasy mop of black hair and a short stubble that was just the length to look like the hairs that grow from a wart. To Indy, he looked lie a toad. He paced back and forth as he asked his preliminary questions, turning to her at the end of each prompt, as if cuing her to speak. She gave as little information as possible, nodding when she was asked to Identify Silver, his signature, and other matters of public record. Finally came the important question. The man stopped and looked at her, smiling toothily. He had a bit of spinach stuck in his teeth, looking like he had a wet emerald encrusted on one of his teeth. She was so intent on this that she missed the question the first time, she started and looked the man in his eyes.

"Could you repeat the question sir?"

The man seemed to find this an admission of guilt, and smiled even wider, revealing a gold cap on his back tooth. "I said, my fine girl, what time did the defendant leave the tenement building yesterday?"

Indy struggled for an answer, her eyes roving around the room, lighting on the jury, most of whom seemed to be half asleep. She saw Silver, and he looked at her pleadingly. Her eyes lighted on the Lawyer. He nodded slightly. She opened her mouth, and heard the words "Seven Thirty," Come out. The Lawyer smiled and wrote a short note which he passed to his aide. Silver sighed and seemed to slump in his chair, exhausted.

But the prosecutor did not stop smiling. He said slowly, painfully slowly, "Might I remind you, that you are under oath?" Indy stared at him. The toothy smile had become more sinister. Something was wrong. He knew. Indy's eyes flickered back and forth between the prosecutor, the Lawyer, the huge windows, Silver, the judge. They all seemed to be waiting for her. All of the members of the jury had become wide awake and were intently watching her. It was if the world was holding its breath. The Lawyer shook his head slowly, and looked away, head in his hand, deep in thought.

Indy could not think, she forgot all time, she forgot the court, she forgot the Lawyer, all that was there was her mind and the evil grin of the prosecutor. She could only parrot what she had been told to say. "Seven Thirty." The prosecutor's smile faded slightly, and he turned and walked back to his bench.

"No more questions, your honor."

Indy stood shakily and was helped back to her set by the guard. The rest of the trial went by in a blur. Finally, there were the closing statements. The prosecutor rose first. He spoke rapidly and directly to the jury, not smiling, not pacing, as if he were trying to hypnotize them with his intense stare. "It is quite obvious that the defendant committed these crimes and is merely being helped by his friends. Look at the facts. He says he just 'happened' to steal a purse full of drugs and untraceable money, then decided to return it? What is the likelihood of that? He obviously knew that poor Ms. Nash would try to turn him in, so he was setting her up! The only person who would speak on his behalf are a girl who appears to be romantically involved with the defendant." Indy started at this, but said nothing. "And we have forms! Those are the basis of the entire Defender's argument! Forms can be filled out any day! I could put todays date on an application I filled out yesterday, or even one I filled out a month ago! Are you going to let that sway you?"

At this, the Lawyer stood up. "Objection. The prosecutor is interpreting evidence in a negative manner, it is up to the jury to make a verdict on the validity."

The Prosecutor smiled again. "That's all right, I was done, anyway."

The Lawyer addressed the jury. He looked small in his shabby coat and friendly demeanor. "Ladies and Gentleman of the jury. My client has admitted to stealing the bag, and for that, he is willing to pay for his crime. But there is no proof of any other wrongdoing. Ms. Nash has not shown any injuries from the supposed assault, the forms that the prosecutor dismisses as invalid are just as likely true! And aside from witnesses that my client insists he never met in his life all saying they saw the same thing, a helpless woman beaten and robbed, yet they did nothing, there is no proof. How reliable is that? Three of those witnesses were strong men, and they said they watched as this malnourished boy from the gutter attacked, bare handed, and watched as he attempted to rape her, watched as he stole her money, watched as he ran away. Does this sound likely to you? I will tell you something. If I, old as I am, saw a woman attacked like that, I would try to help. Is there someone here who would not do the same thing?"

The prosecutor stood up. "Objection. This is not an issue of who in theory would have helped this woman, it is an issue of fact. Those men are not on trial here, the boy is.

The judge nodded. "Sustained. Please finish up, sir, I think there is little left to do here."

The Lawyer looked at him defiantly, but did not continue with his speech. "Another thing. If a boy that age had that much drug money on him, do you really think he would be that malnourished? That small? Would he have even needed to rob a woman as he is said to have done? I think not. Lastly, aside from the lack of compelling evidence and, in my opinion, unreliable testimony, hold your horses prosecutor, I withdraw that statement; do you not think it a little odd that the boy, who had been getting away with drug dealing and theft for so long, would be stupid enough to return a purse filled with untraceable money and a fortune in drugs? I don't think so. I apologize if I seem opinionated, but there is no proof!" His voiced raised to a crescendo so that he shouted proof. He then turned on his heel and walked over to his bench, and started to talk to Silver. The jury started to murmur amongst themselves.

***

The jury came back soon. They declared that as there was no evidence, they were forced to assume that Silver's alibi was true and that he had really been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Silver was sent to jail for two weeks because of the theft, mainly because he could not afford to pay a fine. He came out of the prison looking slightly better fed than he had on the streets. Indy met him at the door and they walked back to their tenement building. There had been another trial, this time for Ms. Nash, and she had been sentenced to several years in prison for drug dealing and obstruction of justice. As Indy and Silver walked back home, Silver turned to Indy and hugged her. "Indy," he looked into her brown eyes, "I'm never going to steal anything ever again." Indy smiled and hugged him back. They were no better off than they had been before. Life would still be hard, but it felt at that moment like they were the richest people in the city. It started to rain.

The Thingummywut

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

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Thursday, August 21, 2008

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