Smith

  FORTY ONE

  THE TRIAL

  Wednesday 20 July 2005

  “All rise,” the official of the court ordered, “the honourable Judge Briggs presiding.”

  The people in the courtroom all stood as Judge Briggs entered the room.

  “Please sit down,” he said in a voice that belied his appearance.

  Judge Nelson Briggs was a judge of twenty years. He was a bear of a man with an impressive walrus moustache that had taken him years to grow. His mere presence demanded respect but, unfortunately when he opened his mouth and spoke in his broad Tyneside accent, his air of dignity disappeared.

  “The court is now in session,” the official announced, “the people versus Vera Mae Lin on the charge of manslaughter.”

  “Mrs Vera Mae Lin,” Judge Briggs began, “you are accused of manslaughter, and please stand up while you are on the stand. You are charged with causing the death of Jonathan Passman on the fifteenth of March of this year. How do you plead?”

  “It was an accident,” Mae Lin squeaked.

  “Please speak up,” Judge Briggs said.

  “It was an accident,” Mae Lin repeated, louder this time.

  “Do you plead not guilty or not guilty?” Judge Briggs sighed, “And please address me as your honour; it sounds much more professional on the transcript.”

  The courtroom was filled with low chuckling.

  “Not guilty, your honour,” Mae Lin said.

  “Good,” Judge Briggs said, “at least we can begin now. Prosecution, I think it’s customary for you to go first.”

  “Sorry your honour,” a tall thin man stood up

  He quickly filed through some pieces of paper and put them down.

  “Mrs Vera Mae Lin,” he began, “could you please recount to the court the events of Tuesday the fifteenth of March this year.”

  “I was at work,” she said, “I was working the afternoon shift.”

  “Your place of employment was Smiley’s Pizzas in the town centre?”

  “Yes, it was very quiet at the front of the shop so I was busy preparing the dough for the evening shift. They have an all you can eat Tuesday special which is very popular, especially with the students.”

  “You were preparing dough in the back?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What happened next?”

  “My boss came through to the kitchen and told me there was a man waiting to be served in the front of the shop.”

  “Your boss was Jonathan Passman, is that correct?”

  “Yes, he was very rude. He accused me of skiving and said I should be serving customers not hiding away in the back.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I took the customer’s order, told him how long it would take and took the order to the pizza chef.”

  “Carry on Mrs Lin.”

  “The pizza chef was on a break so I decided to make the pizza myself.”

  “Is that normal practice?”

  “Not really but I’d done it before. We all try and help where we can. I rolled the dough and was preparing the topping when Mr Passman came in.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He was very angry. He swore at me and called me names.”

  “What kind of names?”

  “Nasty names.” Mae Lin began to shake.

  “Take your time Mrs Mae Lin,” the prosecutor said.

  “He called me a slanty eyed bitch,” she said.

  There were gasps in the courtroom.

  “What happened next?” the prosecutor asked.

  “I’d had enough,” Mae Lin replied, “it wasn’t the first time he had been rude to me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I was very angry. I told him I was leaving, threw the pizza on the floor and told him to make the pizza himself. Then I tried to leave.”

  “What did Mr Passman do then?”

  “He grabbed me by the arm and he said…”

  Mae Lin paused.

  “Can I repeat what he said? It’s not very nice.”

  “Go on,” urged the prosecutor.

  “He said make the fucking pizza you yellow skinned whore.”

  The courtroom erupted.

  “Order,” Judge Briggs shouted, “Order. Carry on Mrs Mae Lin.”

  “He still had hold of my arm,” she continued, “I was scared. I picked up the chopping board with my other hand and hit him in the face with it. He let go and fell to the floor.”

  “What did you do then,” the prosecutor said, “did you run?”

  Mae Lin was silent.

  “Mrs Mae Lin,” the prosecutor desperately wanted to keep the momentum going. “Did you run?” he repeated.

  “No,” she said meekly,” I didn’t run. I was very upset. He was about to get up so I hit him again, harder this time. I was scared.”

  “And you hit him again didn’t you?” the prosecutor said, “and then you hit him once more. In fact, isn’t it true that you just kept on hitting him? Even when he showed no more signs of life. You literally knocked the living shit out of him.”

  “Objection, your honour,” a voice was heard from the defence.

  “Withdrawn,” the prosecutor quickly said, “I have nothing further.”

  “All this talk of pizza is making me hungry,” Judge Briggs said, “we’ll carry on after lunch, and I’ll have no more foul language in my courtroom. Is that understood?”

  “Court adjourned,” the official said, “all rise.”