23. Why can’t attorneys just talk normal? #2
I try to smile back, but it feels wobbly, so I stop.
He doesn’t seem phased as he’s escorted to his seat, and plops down next to his attorney.
This is the closest we’ve been in weeks, and I’m dying to race up the aisle and touch him, kiss him, pull him into my arms. Maybe also slap him for doing something so reckless and stupid.
The next few hours last an eternity. My throat is parched, but I only take sips of water as I fear I won’t be able to keep anything more down.
Ro periodically turns around in his seat to wink, grin, or waggle his eyebrows at me.
I can’t return his playful gestures. I don’t know how he’s handling this trial with a smile.
When I’m called to the stand as a witness for the defense, I steel my spine and clench my fists, determined to do the best I can to get Ro out of here.
I’m sworn in, although I really don’t understand what swearing on something I don’t believe in is supposed to do, and then I sit down and face a plethora of terrifying faces.
Even Ro’s attorney is intimidating, despite knowing she’s fighting for us.
She stands and walks around the desk, then leans back against it.
I think she’s going for nonchalant, but the woman is a powerhouse, and nonchalant isn’t in her repertoire.
I start to relax, though, when she goes through each question we’ve already practiced multiple times.
I give the same answers, and she nods each time.
I take that as approval, giving me another little confidence boost.
The prosecution’s cross-examination isn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting.
Sure, the attorney is a big bully-looking man, but I’ve dealt with plenty of those in my life.
The big boss isn’t here. There’s another man sitting at the desk that I don’t recognize, but I don’t get a chance to wonder about it.
His attorney dives in, throwing question after question at me, all the while our attorney continually interrupts to object.
I hear calls of, “leading the witness” and “speculative” and “irrelevant” among others, but much of it I can’t keep up with.
I answer as best I can, relying on our practice sessions to get through them all.
My brain is spinning, my breath starting to speed up as anxiety takes root, and I wonder what will happen if I get up and leave.
Before I have to find out, the judge calls for a recess.
My eyes dart to Ro, but he’s already being dragged out of his chair and escorted to the back of the room where he came in from. His eyes are locked on me, concern edging out the smile he’s held on to until now.
“Lor.”
I see more than hear him call my name, but his attorney steps between us, and we’re cut off.
“Take a breath,” she says, her voice no-nonsense. “You’re doing well.”
Surprisingly, her unconcerned attitude actually helps. I’m able to draw in a slower breath now that everyone’s eyes aren’t on me while attorneys talk over one another in a verbal battle I don’t understand.
“Here,” she says, handing me a bottle of water. “Drink.”
I take a few sips, and my eyes wander around the room.
“Don’t look at them, look at me,” she says.
It pulls my attention away from the media lining the seats, and back to her with her badass suit and stabby cat-eye glasses.
The free time passes before I’m ready, and I’m called back up to the stand.
“You’ve stated the defendant was with you all night,” the prosecuting attorney says. “In what ways could he have snuck out—”
“Objection,” our fierce attorney calls out, her voice steely. “Again, leading the witness.”
“Sustained,” the judge says.
The other attorney dips his head to the judge, then turns dead eyes back on me. My thoughts are already spinning again.
“Is there any chance the defendant could have left your presence during the night without you knowing?”
“No,” I say.
Keep it short and sweet, don’t elaborate if you don’t have to. That’s what Ro’s attorney keeps telling me.
“And how would you ensure that?”
“I’m a light sleeper,” I say, starting to get nervous again.
“How do you know?”
“Objection, speculative.”
“Overruled,” the judge says. “Continue.”
Sweat gathers in my armpits while goosebumps from the cold air shiver up my arms.
“How do you know you’re a light sleeper?”
I glance at Ro, then his attorney, whose eyes are narrowed. I don’t know what that means.
“Uh, well, I have a cat,” I glance at Ro again, who is now grinning in triumph, then continue.
“And my cat is an indoor-outdoor cat, so, um, I have to be able to let them in or out when they want. Mostly they’re wanting to come in during the night, and they’ll tap on the window or meow, but it’s pretty quiet, so I sleep lightly, and any little noise wakes me up. ”
The prosecutor’s lips pinch, which I assume to mean that was a good answer.
“No further questions, your honor,” he says.
“Defense?” the judge asks.
Ro’s attorney stands again, nods her head to the judge, then faces me once more. She told me she’d ask more questions if she felt anything needed clarifying after the prosecution’s cross-examination, and I assume that’s what this is.
“Ms. Seren,” she says. “Can you please clarify? You said any little sound would wake you up, correct?”
“That’s correct,” I say.
“So, we can assume that if Mr. Cromwell got up to use the bathroom or get a snack in the middle of the night, you would hear that?”
“Objection, leading the witness,” prosecution says.
“Overruled.”
She tips her head to me that it’s my turn to answer now, and I nod.
“Yeah, actually, that has happened before,” I say.
Meanwhile, I’m kicking myself internally. We literally practiced this exact scenario and it flew right out of my brain. Why did I think the cat was a good example? This is much better evidence.
“Please explain,” Ro’s attorney says, her stance relaxing slightly now that we’re on the same page again.
“Yeah, he’s spent the night before and had to get up to use the bathroom. I always wake up as soon as he gets out of bed. If somehow that didn’t wake me up, my door creaks, so I’m sure that would have woken me up too.”
She nods at me with a tiny twitch of her lips before turning to the judge.
“No further questions.”
I’m escorted back to my seat and I slump into it, tuning out the rest of the proceedings.
Our attorney submits video evidence that Ro’s motorcycle was outside my apartment the entire night.
She vehemently opposes their “evidence” from a witness who says they saw Ro shooting fire from his fingers into the warehouse, claiming it’s circumstantial based on the fact they previously described the arsonist to be wearing a black mask, and therefore unidentifiable.
I’m starting to think we’re actually going to win this.