Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1)

  * * *

  The streets in front of the courthouse were busy. There were lots of people, some dressed in suits, some in khakis and polos. The lawyers, jurors, witnesses seemed to be all over the place. At least, that’s what I thought they could be. The only ones that were easy to really spot were the cops and television reporters.

  Lindsey wished me luck and told us to call her when we were done. Patrick and I got out of the car and took our stuff out of the trunk. I balled my hands up and felt my body go cold. Patrick saw me tense up, put his hand on my back and whispered, “It’s okay. I’m here. You can do this.”

  I looked at him and slowly nodded. I took deep breaths as we walked up the stairs into the courthouse and through security. We made our way to the courtroom that I was told to go to. Patrick was right by my side the entire way. I realized he still didn’t know why I was here. But, he didn’t ask, he didn’t push. He just was there for me, reassuring me that everything would be okay—that I would be okay. I didn’t want him to be blind-sided by what he heard, but I didn’t know how to tell him and time was running out.

  I knew we found the right courtroom because I recognized one of the people standing outside of it. He was the detective on the case. “Hello, Liz.”

  “Detective Peters.” I had a flash of the last time I saw him, I felt scared and safer at the same time.

  “It’s good to see you again. You look like you are doing well.” We shook hands. “Did your parents come with you?”

  I didn’t know what exactly to say. I knew it really wasn’t an invitation to share the truth. I shook my head. “Let’s just say that some things don’t change.” I cleared my throat, “Detective, this is my friend Patrick. Patrick, Detective Peters.”

  Patrick stepped forward and shook the detective’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Detective Peters looked at me. “They reconvened about a half hour ago. I’d expect that they would call you in soon. Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. The worst is already over.”

  I nodded and sat down on bench just outside the room. I sat there wringing my hands, trying to not be the nervous wreck that I was. I faintly heard Detective Peters and Patrick chatting about the flight, about school and I don’t know what else. I wasn’t really paying much attention. But I did know that Patrick was sitting right next to me, he kept his hand on my arm. It kept me from completely falling apart, kept me grounded somehow.

  “Elizabeth Mariposa.” I stiffened when I heard my name called. I had never been so frightened by hearing my name. I looked up and saw the bailiff at the door to the courtroom looking up and down the hallway.

  Patrick squeezed my arm and it reminded me to breathe. Detective Peters nodded to the bailiff and indicated that I was present. The bailiff waited at the door. I slowly stood up. Patrick got up and gave me hug. He tried to reassure me, “I’ll be here the entire time. It’ll be fine.”

  I looked up into his eyes and wondered if after this he would see me the same way. If he’d think all the good things he thought of me. If he’d still be my friend.

  “Do you trust me?” He asked. All I could do is nod. “Then trust me, it will be fine. I’m not going anywhere. No matter what…I’ll be here for you.” He squeezed my hand, and then smiled, “And afterwards, we’ll get something to eat—on me. Maybe…life-sized loaf of sourdough?” I cracked a little smile, not just at his attempt at humor, but at his reassurance. I nodded, turned and walked into the courtroom.

  When I walked into the courtroom, I zeroed in on the witness stand. Somehow, my feet got me from the door to the stand. I sat down and focused on DA Espinoza. The bailiff swore me in. The DA approached me.

  “Good morning, Ms. Mariposa.”

  “Good morning.” My mouth felt dry as the desert.

  “Thank you for being here today. I’m sure this isn’t easy for you. You’d much rather be in school?”

  “Yes.” Unequivocally, that was an easy question. I wish they would all be that easy.

  “Are you a good student? Getting straight A’s?”

  “Yes.” Still easy to answer. She told me she’d ease her way to the more difficult ones.

  “Taking any honors or advanced classes at school?”

  “Yes. I’m taking Advanced Placement Physics, Calculus AB, English Language, US History and Computer Science.”

  “That’s a full course load. Are you taking any other classes?”

  “Yes. Advanced choir.”

  “Is this a typical schedule of classes for students? Five AP classes?”

  “Typical? No. Those that do, have their own reasons for it.” I could feel the blood rushing from my head.

  “What made you decide to take on that coursework this school year—your junior year? Couldn’t you have taken some of them your senior year?”

  I made the mistake of taking my eyes off of the DA and caught a look at the defendant. She noticed and took a step to her left, so I couldn’t see him. I focused back on her. “I needed something to focus on. To put my energy toward. I didn’t want to have free time to think about... non-school stuff. I met the prereqs for the classes and I’m a good student. So, I figured, why wait until my senior year?”

  “Let’s talk about the non-school stuff that you mentioned. Do you recall where you were on March 23 of this year?” Here we go.

  “Yes.” I stiffened even more than I already was.

  “Please share with the court where you were.”

  “I was in downtown San Francisco, shopping.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time of the day was it?”

  “Morning.”

  “What happened that day?”

  “My dad had a meeting here in San Francisco. Since it was during my Spring Break, my parents decided to make a family trip out of it. I went shopping that day. Our hotel was a block away from the shopping district. It was 10:30 in the morning, so I thought I’d be pretty safe. I went to the mall and several of the stores along downtown.” I paused, scared to continue. I quickly looked at Patrick sitting there and then turned to look at the DA.

  “Go on.” She prompted.

  My voice was shaking. “I was heading back to the hotel around 1:30pm, when someone grabbed me. It all seemed to happen so fast. The next thing I knew I was being pulled into a nearby alley. I tried to scream, but he had his hand over my mouth. I kicked and kicked, but he carried me into the alley.” I tried to hold back the tears as the memories got fresher and fresher. “He kept hitting me until I stopped fighting him. He threw me on the ground. It hurt so much. A sharp pain burned through my side and the wind got knocked out of me. I tried to scream but nothing came out. He pulled out a roll of duct tape and taped my mouth shut. I tried again to fight back, tried to push him away, but he was too strong, bigger than me.”

  I balled my hands into fists in my lap. I felt like it was all happening again. Tears started streaming down my face. My voice kept breaking. “He taped my hands together. I kept trying to fight, trying to scream, he just laughed and hit me again and again. He said it wouldn’t hurt as much if I would just stop fighting it. That I would enjoy it, others had. He was right on top of me when he ripped my shirt open. I heard this beeping that kept getting louder, I thought it was all in my head since it was throbbing, but it was a garbage truck pulling into the alley. All of a sudden, he got up and ran away. One of the garbage men found me.”

  “You said that you tried to fight back several times. Were you able to injure him in any way?”

  “I might have bruised him with all my kicking. Scratched him across his face and neck as I tried to get away from him.”

  The DA nodded then turned to the judge. “Your honor, at this time, the People would like to enter exhibits G through K.”

  “So entered.” The judge responded after looking over a sheet of paper the DA handed him.

  The DA went over to the easels that were setup in the courtroom. Each had a poster board
on it, face down. She flipped over the first poster. “Do you recognize this place?”

  “Yes, it is the alley where I was attacked.”

  She flipped over the second and third poster. It was me—my face all bloodied and bruised and the injuries to my body. “Is this you, Ms. Mariposa?”

  “Yes.” I tried to regain my composure.

  “Please tell us the extent of your injuries.”

  “I had lots of cuts and bruises, stitches. A black eye. Twelve stitches on the back of my head. I had a broken rib and stitches in my back where glass I had landed on cut me.”

  “Thank you. Were you able to describe to the police the man who assaulted you?”

  “Yes. I spoke with the detectives in the hospital and gave a description.”

  “Do you see that man in the court room today?” She moved out of the line of sight between me and my attacker.

  “Yes. He’s sitting right there.” I pointed to him.

  “Let the record show that the witness has identified the defendant.” She flipped over another poster. This time, it was a drawing and a photo. “Is this the composite that was made based on your description?”

  “Yes.”

  “This,” she pointed to the picture, “is a mug shot of the defendant. You were extremely accurate. I can see why you get such good grades.”

  I just looked at her and nodded. I didn’t think she really wanted any sort of a response. DA Espinoza turned to the defense attorney. “Your witness.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Mariposa. How are you doing today?”

  Great. What kind of question was that? I’m under oath, so I can’t lie. But, he didn’t really want to know. He was trying to be polite. So, do I do the polite thing or answer completely truthfully? “Okay, I suppose.”

  “So, you stated that you came to town with your parents. But you were wandering about downtown alone?”

  “I wouldn’t say wandering. I was shopping. But, yes, I was alone.” I didn’t like what he was insinuating.

  “Why were you by yourself? Why weren’t you with your parents? A fifteen year-old girl by herself in a big city.”

  “My parents wanted to go golfing. I don’t golf. It was morning, not the middle of the night. I preferred to go shopping than sit in the hotel room all day.”

  “Are your parents here today?”

  My blood ran cold. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “They had work.”

  “Their only daughter has to fly back to the city where she was attacked and they don’t accompany her?”

  “Right.”

  “Do they blame you for the attack?”

  “Objection.” The DA argued. “Calls for speculation.”

  “Sustained.” The judge ruled.

  “I’ll rephrase. Do you feel like they blame you for the attack?”

  My heart was pounding. “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” He looked down at his notepad. “You seem to me to be very well-adjusted for someone who has suffered such an attack. You don’t have the signs of someone who has been traumatized. Most victims have a difficult time dealing with their day-to-day activities such as school. You get good grades and are in honors classes. Why is that? Is it because you know that your attempt of getting attention backfired?”

  “No. I didn’t try to do that. I would never do that. I would never willingly put myself, or anyone else, through the hell I’ve been through.”

  He eyed me critically. “Nothing further.”

  The DA stood up, “Redirect, your honor.” The judge nodded.

  “Ms. Mariposa, most people do have difficulty maintaining their daily activities. What makes you different?”

  “I’m not different. Well, some people drown themselves in drugs or alcohol…to lose themselves. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my future like that. So, I drowned myself in classes and homework instead. I just substituted alcohol and drugs with classes and homework.”

  “Thank you. No further questions.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Mariposa. You may step down.” The judge dismissed me. “We’ll take a recess for lunch and reconvene at 1:30.” He then struck the gavel.

  I sat there frozen in my seat. I felt exhausted. The judge, jurors, defense lawyer and defendant exited the courtroom. It felt like the courtroom emptied way too slowly. DA Espinoza walked up to me. “You did great, Liz. It’s over. You are a very strong young woman.” She patted my arm. “Why don’t you guys go to lunch? I’ll call you, if you need to come back, but I don’t think you will need to.”

  “Okay.” I whispered. I finally got enough strength in my legs to get up. I stared at the ground in front me.

  “I’ll let you know when the trial is over and we have a verdict.”

  I nodded. You guys, she said. She was referring to me and Patrick. I couldn’t look at him. I was so ashamed about what had happened. I was scared that he realized how unworthy I was of his friendship and that I didn’t deserve all the kindness he and his family had shown me. Tears started falling from my eyes again.

  I walked down the few steps that led down the witness stand and a pair of feet met mine at the bottom.

  “Liz.” It was Patrick. I couldn’t say anything and I couldn’t look at him. I just stood there.

  “Liz,” he said even softer. I shook my head and wiped my eyes. He took his hand and lifted my chin until he was looking straight into my eyes. I tried to avoid his gaze by looking down. “Please? I need you to look at me.”

  I wiped my eyes and reluctantly looked up. I took in his face. I could tell he was stunned from what he had heard me say on the stand. He seemed so hard, so angry. I had never seen him look like that. Fresh tears appeared in my eyes. “I’m still here. I told you.” His voice was so gentle and reassuring. He squeezed my hand, “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “But, you’re real mad.” I choked out.

  He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard. “Yeah.” He looked around the court room and clearly got angrier. “Let’s get out of here.” He gently took my hand led me away from the witness stand.

  Detective Peters and the DA were talking outside of the court room. “I heard you did very well in there.”

  “Thanks. You weren’t in there?” I was confused. I know that I wasn’t paying attention to who was in there, but I thought that was the reason he was at the door.

  “No. I’m testifying after you.”

  “Oh.” That made sense. I didn’t want to make any more small talk. I wanted to leave.

  “Look, I don’t know if you kept the number I gave you before.” He handed me a business card for some trauma counselor. “They can really help.” I remembered him trying to give my parents the card, but they wouldn’t take it. When they were talking to the doctor, he gave me the card. I never looked at it again. There was no point. My parents wouldn’t let me see a counselor.

  “Thanks.” I took it and shoved it into my pocket. We said goodbye and DA Espinoza repeated that she would call me when everything was done and a verdict was made.