Chapter 57 – Vincenzo #2
Amanda bit her lip, narrowed her eyes. “Let me ask you this. Did you find any evidence — any at all — that my client lured the would-be victim to that scene?”
“We did not.”
“Did you find any messages from my client threatening the victim?” Amanda insisted.
“No.”
“Tell the court…what did you find?” Amanda’s left hand brushed against her slacks.
Wiping the sweat.
“I don’t recall,” the officer bit out.
“Here, your honor, the defense would like to submit this piece of information that was withheld in discovery.” Amanda marched to her desk, took a folder, and brought it to the clerk.
In the pause that followed, where the prosecutor was given a copy, Amanda seemed to hold her breath.
“The court admits this new evidence. Document it,” the judge agreed.
I leaned forward, wishing like hell I could see the words on that page.
“What you will see, ladies and gentlemen,” Amanda said, turning to the jurors, relief easing the lines from her forehead, “was that my client not only didn’t threaten the would-be victim, he was the one who called the police.”
A rapid burst of murmurs spread through the courtroom.
I fought to keep my features neutral. Any flicker of surprise would betray her.
I sure as fuck didn’t make the call. But if Amanda had papers that showed I did, that a call was made from my phone to the police station, then it must have happened.
Taking a second in the chaos, I scanned the crowd. I didn’t see the invisible threat, but it was there. I felt it. And it knew as well as I did that no call originated from my phone, even if there were records saying it did.
“Order!” the judge shouted.
Amanda seized the moment to launch the attack. She spun and pinned the officer with a hard look. The sweetness was gone from her beautiful face. In its place was the agent of wrath.
“Officer Guterner, did you find anything showing he planned, intended, or even expected violence that night?”
The officer shook his head.
“Answer,” the judge barked.
“No, your honor. The report is complete.”
Amanda didn’t waste a second dealing the next blow. “So, the only thing linking my client to this alleged attempted murder…is that he showed up at a place someone else told him to go?”
“Yes,” the officer forced through his teeth.
“No weapon. No motive. No violent behavior. No evidence of preparation. Just his presence.” Amanda held up a finger with each count on it.
“Correct.”
“Officer, based on everything you’ve testified today — do you have any evidence that my client intended to kill anyone that night?”
The court held a collective breath.
The officer sent one more look into the sea of faces before he bowed his head. “No.”
“I have no further questions, your honor,” Amanda said over the buzz of the court.
The judge banged his gavel.
Amanda returned to her desk and sifted through the papers again. Her whole body vibrated with energy. The papers shivered under her touch.
“Well? Call your next witness,” the judge demanded.
The prosecutor rose. Cleared his throat. “The intended victim left the country this morning, your honor.”
Maksim Varga was…gone.
Unease slithered through me. This wasn’t over, then.
“Are you wasting my time, Jacob?”
“I’m not, your honor!” the prosecutor insisted.
“What else do you have for us then?” The judge leaned forward.
“Just this.” The prosecutor adjusted his tie.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the facts are simple. The defendant was at the scene. The victim was nearly killed. By his own account, which you have documented in front of you, even though Mr. Varga was unable to appear in court today. His words speak for themselves. There was a blood feud on the streets, and nothing can erase that. Mr. Messina can claim confusion. He can claim coincidence. But people don’t stumble into attempted murder scenes by accident.
They don’t arrive at the exact moment violence erupts without reason.
The State doesn’t have to prove why he was there, only that he was.
Only that his actions placed a human life in jeopardy.
You heard the evidence. You saw the photographs.
You know chaos doesn’t happen in a vacuum.
The defendant’s presence wasn’t a mistake.
It was the catalyst. Hold him accountable. Find him guilty.”
“Beautifully said.” Amanda glided to the center stage once more. “But as he said, you only have the word of an absent witness, who dishonored the laws of this land and mocked this court by failing to appear.”
“Get to the point,” the prosecutor snapped.
Amanda threw him a charitable smile. The idiot had just fallen into her trap.
“Certainly,” she mused. “Ladies and gentlemen, presence is not intent. Chaos is not a crime. And coincidence is not guilt. The State wants you to fill in their blanks for them. They want you to guess, to assume, to imagine. But the law demands proof, and they gave you none.”
Amanda swept up to the partition where the jurors sat on their benches. She leaned upon it, posture friendly and open.
“It’s simple. My client was unarmed. Unprepared. And utterly blindsided. Someone else engineered that scene. Someone else set the trap. And the prosecution wants you to convict the man who walked into it.”
They nodded at her, eating out of her fucking hand.
I tensed, breathing hard as I waited for her to finish this farce.
“You don’t punish the wrong man because the right one stayed in the shadows,” Amanda insisted. “You don’t convict on suspicion. You don’t guess with a human life.”
Amanda looked over the court, daring the unseen threat to interfere. To steal this moment from her.
“Find him not guilty,” she insisted.
The judge’s tone was formal as he addressed the jurors.
“Members of the jury, you have heard the evidence and the arguments of counsel. Your duty now is to deliberate. Remember that the burden of proof rests entirely with the State. The defendant is presumed innocent unless and until the State proves guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Your verdict must be unanimous.”
The court adjourned for the deliberation.
I was nudged by the guard to rise.
Amanda still didn’t look at me. She returned to the desk, gathered her papers, and left.
Fiore! I choked back the word.
“Come on, you,” the officer tugged on my cuffed hands.
Fiore, please…look at me.
Amanda never turned back.