Chapter Thirty-seven - Kenya
Chapter Thirty-seven
Kenya
K enya waltzed into the courtroom, her head held high. In the previous days of the trial, she’d cross-examined every witness that the prosecution placed on the stand and left every testimony with a shadow of doubt.
“Wow, you’re shrewd,” Deacon Charles had whispered to Kenya the day before.
“I’m very good at what I do.” Kenya’s cockiness caused him to stare at her in awe—or admiration—she wasn’t sure which. “Close your mouth, Deacon. Tomorrow will be trickier. Let’s hope your witnesses come through for you.”
She’d packed her briefcase, left him standing there with his mouth open. She rushed to her family and received hugs from them. The press had waited just outside on the courthouse steps. With microphones pressed in her face, she declined to comment on every one of their questions. Deacon Charles followed suit, also declining to comment. He’d been warned, and she was happy to see he had heeded her warning that if he recklessly spoke to them again, she’d drop his case immediately. He didn’t want that, particularly after witnessing her performance during the trial thus far.
* * *
Today would be the hardest day yet, and she knew it.
Kenya walked into the courtroom. The members of Cornerstone Baptist Church were all there. Her parents were in the front row again, alongside Xander, who gave her his award-winning smile and his usual thumbs-up. Deacon Charles’s wife, Eleanor, was not present, and Kenya thought that strange. She had warned them they should keep things as normal as possible, so she was alarmed that his support wasn’t there. However, in Eleanor’s place sat Tricia. Kenya’s heart fluttered at the sight of her sister. She smiled at Tricia, and although she didn’t return the smile, Kenya was happy to see her there.
Kenya took her seat next to Mitch and Deacon Charles.
“Is the defense ready to proceed with closing arguments?” the judge asked.
Kenya stood. “We are, Your Honor,” she said, and turned to face the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the prosecution wants you to believe that my client is guilty simply because he entered Mr. Miller’s condo the night of the murder. They have no evidence other than the video footage of my client entering and leaving the premises. You’ve heard testimony from people who knew both men, and attested to their relationship—they were friends, partners, brothers. Did they argue over the years? Of course; all friends do. Arguing doesn’t equate to murder. You’ve heard from the defendant’s church members. He’s an upstanding member of Cornerstone Baptist Church, where he’s been a deacon for more than thirty years. He’s active in his community, feeding the hungry, facilitating toy drives and back-to-school programs.” Kenya paced in front of the jury. She tried to read their faces, wanted to make an impact. “The evidence must be so convincing that you can answer ‘yes’ to the question: Has the state proved the defendant’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt? There’s a rear entrance to the building where Mr. Miller lived. The evidence showed the key to that door was missing from Mr. Miller’s key ring.” Kenya shrugged her shoulders. “Anyone could’ve been in possession of that key. Mr. Miller was a shrewd businessman. Any number of people might have had motive. I’m sorry, but there just isn’t enough evidence to convict my client, and certainly not beyond a reasonable doubt. The prosecution has failed to prove their case, and I would ask you to keep that in mind when you deliberate, and that you return a verdict, the only verdict, of not guilty . Thank you.”
Kenya returned to her seat.
“You may proceed, Mr. James.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Oliver approached the jury. “Members of the jury, his name was Julian Miller Jr., and he was born on April 12, 1953, right here in New Jersey. You met his parents and his sister, Leona Miller, yesterday, and heard about the special bond that he had with his family. You heard from his colleagues, who spoke about his work ethic and the people in the community who held him in high regard. Julian died from someone choking him to death. He couldn’t breathe in his final moments. Asphyxiation is a horrible way to die. When he was found, he had no pulse. Ladies and gentlemen, you saw the video. That video unequivocally places the defendant at the scene of the crime and proves that Mr. Charles entered Julian Miller’s home on the night of the murder. He lied in his original statement, claiming that he hadn’t been there. He retracted that statement after the video footage became public. No one was seen entering or leaving Mr. Miller’s home that night but the defendant. Julian Miller was heartlessly strangled to death by the defendant, his longtime friend and business partner. You heard testimony that in his final days, their relationship had become volatile. This case is exactly what you thought when you first saw that video. When you saw the defendant enter Mr. Miller’s home and then exit, your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you. This was murder. The defendant is guilty of murder in the second degree . Thank you.”
Oliver rested in his seat as the judge gave instructions to the jury.
Kenya began packing up her briefcase. She didn’t know how long the jury would deliberate. It could be an hour or twenty-four hours.
“What happens now?” Deacon Charles whispered.
“We wait.”
“How long will it take?”
“It’s in the hands of the jury now.”
* * *
In the fellowship hall of her father’s church, lunch had been prepared for the family and the congregation—fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, and sweet tea. Loud conversations and laughter ensued. Deacon Charles paced the floor, wrung his hands. He rubbed the back of his neck and loosened his tie. Kenya observed him from across the room while eating.
“Well, I must say, you were a beast in that courtroom today,” Tricia took a seat next to Kenya at the table, a plate of food in her hand.
Kenya smiled inside. She raised an eyebrow. “I guess that’s a compliment.”
“I was quite impressed,” Tricia continued. “Proud, actually.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you made it. Glad you were able to see me work.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Tricia smiled at her sister and Kenya’s heart soared. “I’m going back to school. I’ve enrolled at NYU for the fall semester. Most of it online.”
“That’s great, Tricia.” Kenya laid her fork down and faced her sister.
“Of course I’m not going to become a big-time lawyer like my sister or anything, but I am going to finish my degree.”
“I think that’s fantastic.” Kenya gave her sister a hug.
“I’m pretty excited about it.”
“You know what would be great? If you and Malik would come to Cape May and hang out with me for a weekend.”
“You know you’ve never invited me there. After all these years.”
Kenya tried to remember a time when she’d extended an invitation so that she could prove her sister wrong, but she couldn’t think of one single time either. She’d always assumed that it was a given that her family could visit anytime, but she saw that Tricia had expected a personal invitation.
She thought about saying, You’ve always had an open invitation, but thought it best to say, “Well, I’m inviting you now.”
“Figured you had your sisters, Lu and Natalia. Figured you’d forgotten that I was also your sister. Your blood sister.”
“I haven’t forgotten that. We will always be sisters, Tricia. No one can change that.”
Tricia was quiet for a moment, ate her food in silence.
She looked over at Kenya. “Malik and I would love to come for a visit.”
“Cool.” Kenya grinned from ear to ear. “Pick a date when you’re free, and I’d love to have you.”
“I will.”
Kenya saw Mitch approaching, his cell phone glued to his ear.
He whispered in her ear, “Verdict’s in.”
* * *
Everyone returned to the courthouse. Kenya, Mitch, and Deacon Charles took their places. The jury piled in and took their seats. The bailiff handed the verdict over to the judge. She looked at it and handed it back. The foreperson stood.
“Will the defendant please rise for the verdict?” the judge asked.
It seemed that Deacon Charles’s legs were on the verge of giving out as he slowly began to stand. His shoulders were tight, and he stared at the juror who would be reading his fate.
“On the count of murder in the second degree, we the jury find the defendant . . . not guilty.”
Kenya was elated to hear those words. Cries rang out loudly from Julian Miller’s family. His mother covered her mouth, tears filling her eyes. She collapsed into her husband’s arms. His sister yelled out in disagreement with the verdict. On the other side of the aisle, cheers rang out from the congregation of Cornerstone Baptist Church. Deacon Charles clasped his hands together as if praying. He reached for Kenya and embraced her.
He whispered in her ear, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Kenya gazed at her family. Her father gave her a wink of the eye. Her mother smiled. Xander gave her his usual thumbs-up, and Tricia actually blew her a kiss.
She had won her case, made the congregation happy. Deacon Charles could sleep easy another night, and on top of it all, she had a sister again. All was well in the universe.