Page 1 of Witch Trials


Witch Trials

  By Steve Szalai

  Copyright 2013 Steve Szalai

  Cover photograph of girl: Pink Sherbet Photography

  Cover photograph of noose: Steve Szalai

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  The Wrong

  The Trials

  ~~~~~

  The Author

  Witch Trials

  The Wrong

  Who is wronged, lives in God's bliss.

  Who has wronged, lives in the parsonage.

  Parson Samuel Cotton

  19 December 1692

  They show their badges.

  "Greater Los Angeles Police Department, Morality Investigation Unit. Detective Abel Stockton. This is Detective Ross Hansard." Their first day as partners. "This is Maria Moreno of the California Child Protection Agency. Everything you say is being recorded. Mr. Gibson? You reported a rape?"

  "Yes. Greg Gibson. Please come in." He introduces his wife, Lory, and daughter, Selma. "Selma was raped yesterday. We didn't find out until she was reluctant to go to school today."

  Immediately, Moreno frowns and touches Stockton's elbow. She nods at Selma.

  Stockton nods and asks the parents, "The cuts and bruises on her face?"

  Mr. Gibson answers, "We had to be sure before we called the police."

  "Does Selma have a history of false accusations?"

  Mrs. Gibson replies, "No. She's a good girl. But putting the boys on trial without being sure—. Well, it's just better to be sure."

  "I understand. You should get those cuts on your hand looked at." Stockton turns to "Selma. How old are you?"

  "Sixteen."

  "Tell us what happened."

  "I was leaving school, a bit late. I had stayed to help Mr. Calvin clean up after the science experiments. Tommy, Ben, and Mo were smoking near the gym. They're jerks, one year ahead of me. Tommy grabbed my backpack and wouldn't give it back. They tossed it over my head, between themselves. They were running back and forth, and before I knew it we were between the gym and the metal shop. I told them I was going to the principal."

  Stockton asks, "Then what happened?"

  "Ben grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth. They made me do things."

  After the interrogation is complete, tearful parents hug Selma. Greg comforts, "We believe you, Selma. Find bliss with God."

  After locking Selma in the air-conditioned back seat of their car, Stockton and Hansard return to the house.

  Moreno sits in the middle row of seats of the LAPD SUV. She turns, knee on the seat, to face the girl, and asks Selma, "When did you get those bruises and cuts?"

  "This morning. My mom. Like she said."

  "Because she said so, or really? It's important, Selma."

  "This morning."

  "All of them?"

  No hesitation. "Yes."

  "When was the last time they hit you, before this morning?"

  Selma thinks for a moment. "A month or two ago, I think."

  Moreno does not see any bruises or scratches that look older than this morning, so she lets the issue die. Parental discipline does have limits, but this case does not appear to go beyond accepted norms.

  Moreno asks, "Why didn't you phone the police or tell your parents what happened, yesterday?" It doesn't sound like an interrogation, and Moreno is genuinely concerned.

  Selma hesitates. "What if it was my fault? And they're my friends. They're a year older than me, but I've known them forever."

  "It was not your fault. Nobody asks to be raped. Nobody deserves to be raped." Moreno has to pause or she'll start crying. I'll never get used to this, she thinks. I can't even say the word without losing my objectivity and calm. Annually, there are fewer than a hundred rapes reported in the United States. This is Moreno's first rape case.

  Selma replies, "Maybe not." She pauses. "I feel bad about this." But they'll be with God.

  "You shouldn't feel bad, Selma. They've done this to you. They deserve whatever they get."

  Inside, Stockton asks, "Mrs. Gibson, had you noticed any unusual behavior in Selma before this morning? Staying out or sleeping late? Mood changes? Anger? Indications of depression? A girl's teen years can sometimes be rough. Drugs?"

  "No drugs. I would have known." She pauses. "She's been distant for a few years, but she's a teenager. All teens distance themselves from their parents. She gets good grades and doesn't get into trouble."
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