Chapter 9
Sara still cannot believe what has happened between her and her boyfriend. Good fortune or darn luck? She wears her negligee open in the front, quite sexy, as Sterling tucks in the corners of the new bed sheets, to replace the warm, soggy set that lay balled up in the corner where the dog now sleeps. He has not bothered to dress. He now notices how Sara is taking him all in; in his nakedness he looks over at her and smiles broadly. He doesn’t mind being a sexual object, even a boy toy; he offers her a slight model’s stance, tightening his muscles. Their bodies have no secrets, or rather they enjoyed sharing new secrets with each other. Other than his sexuality mostly Sara notices Sterling’s thinness, really all muscles and bones. And his moisturized color. She has studied skin tones in one of her drawing classes. She would classify herself as Northern European, not quite Scandinavian fair, more like Saxony Arian. Sterling is a different matter. Because he contains big doses of hemoglobin, melanin, and carotenoid, he’d be best described as Southern Mediterranean, with tan or beige skin. He is actually several separate tones, darker olive along the less covered extremities: face, arms, legs; then a much lighter shade toward the middle – his chest and muscular back. His ass is egg-colored; his genitals a swarthy pink. On his video – Sara suspects it was touched up – his entirety is a uniform shade of mild olive. The tanning marks he now evidences (collar and underwear lines) show up nowhere in the short film, which granted had been shot at the end of winter. She wonders about the coloring; has the film really been doctored? In any case he was healthier then, less emaciated than now. And how can he lose another few pounds? He has a few weeks to thin down.
Sterling’s mind has wandered off to a place it often visits: calorie counting. He is wondering if he has burned enough energy during sex to lose any weight. The general rule of thumb, which he has picked up off the internet, is that a vigorous 20 minute session burns about 100 calories (three times what simple foreplay gets you). At that rate, after 35 sessions similar to tonight’s, which was veritably vigorous, he could lose one pound. It only takes a dozen hours of jumping rope to burn that much fat. Sterling is definitely conflicted over the costs and benefits of different weight reduction schemes. Still, if he had lost only a few grams of weight in the enjoyable minutes of thrusting it took before reaching their orgasm, Sara has surely lost more than a pound. Water retention is not her problem.
Earlier in the evening, after he had introduced his lawyer to his father, he and Sara had begun a long, intense, sometimes painful talk, the most serious conversation they had ever had. She had helped him sort through his immediate legal problems and she had assisted him in coming to grips with his current crisis. Their talk lasted until almost midnight. Near the end they lay on the bed, enjoying each other’s warmth, but not making out. She could hardly not notice his bulge and without much reflection they had quickly shed clothes and just as quickly finished making love. After their two evenings together a discernable pattern of intimacy has emerged. An initial coupling is, it seemed, too brief to satisfy either of them for very long. So after about twenty minutes of mutual, curiosity-driven foreplay they are both, Sterling visibly apparent, prepared for an encore. He was as eager as always; this time Sara was more than eager. By minute 18 she came close to having a seizure. The boy could never have predicted how much he could delight her. He was approaching climax himself and gave out a little grunt. She took in a lungful of air and, sensing she wanted to urinate, had a powerful urge to bear or push down (the same sensation of pushing when delivering a baby). Just at her partner achieved climax, she herself reached absolute ecstasy and then…she wet the bed. She had been feeling so great, and now, in what was supposed to be a period of post coital bliss, she fells so embarrassed. She had hardly recovered from the pleasure and exhaustion of orgasm when she began to feel terribly ashamed. At the end of their conjoined twenty minutes, a large amount of fluid had suddenly gushed out through her urethra. When she started to weep over this incident, Sterling came to the rescue with an explanation: the several cups of liquid were not urine, but rather prostatic fluid, with a higher pH level. He told Sara to smell it; it wasn’t pee. It was colorless and had a sweet odor like clover. It was also not the slippery whitish fluid that lubricated her vagina, which had a very distinctive, acidic odor and taste. Its supposedly pH is around 4.0 although Sterling could not personally verify this; a taste test was something to look forward to. Sterling did know, however, that his own semen came in at 7.8, in the school’s chemistry lab at least, the second highest among the Friday Nights. There were three consequences to the bunch of pH tests he ran at school. First, William registered 8.2 and was sent to the doctor for an infection; second, the school gave Sterling four demerits for using school property for personal use (punished not for doing the tests on his own semen but for doing tests of that of seven non-students); and third, three straps to the buttocks when his father found out. Sterling was angry at himself for not using a Vegas get-out-of-jail-free card. In any case, with all his acquired knowledge Sterling was able to correct Sara’s mistake in thinking she had peed in bed; rather they had, together, stumbled upon her G Spot.
Sterling is an expert on the Gräfenberg Spot, often called the G Spot, the bean-shaped area located one to three inches up the front vaginal wall between the vaginal opening and the urethra. He learned everything the internet had to offer on the subject. He then shared the news with the boys during one of the Friday Nights. In his PowerPoint he had illustrated that the G Spot is the female prostate and its erectile tissue, to put it in terms more understandable to the boys. It is not a spot per se, but rather a small spongy pad that wraps around the urethra. When this organ is stimulated through the vaginal wall during sexual arousal, secretions can flow from the paraurethral glands. Sterling professorially reflected that sometimes in life the harder you look for something, the more difficult it is to find, both physiologically and psychologically. In a response to a question from James, he told his twelve year old buddies not to be obsessed with the G and never, never tell your girlfriend that you can’t find it because it’s her fault because she doesn’t have one. “It will find you when you’re ready.” And so it had found Sterling tonight. Although Sara had suspected the infamous G Spot to be more an urban legend than reality, she had never had an actual discussion with anyone about it, not with her mother, her gynecologist, her sister or her girlfriends. That Sara had discovered the G during only their second night together was fantastic. Sterling would have liked to take more credit for the discovery than he deserved; and he feared Sara might want to explore it on her own, or even worse with someone else; he didn’t want that. Regardless, the G Spot had not been on his mind during intercourse. In fact, his mind had been wiped blank; during those minutes he was having too much pleasure to think. A clean mind rarely happens in his life, except during somnambulistic binge eating, and now during sex.
The great sex they had just had was probably due to an exceptional psychological state, which was one of severe intimacy and unity. Each was at ease with both the self and the other, so relaxed that they had lowered their usual shields. They were in many senses totally naked with one another. The earlier conversation Sterling had had with Sara and that she had had with him was almost as unified as when one has a conversation with oneself, a veritable Vulcan mind-meld. At the moment they became one, the outside world no longer existed. They were the universe.
Sterling has enough faith in his girl that he didn’t fear the consequences of showing her the video. Her reaction was not unexpected: “You can be so stupid for being so smart,” she had said. As a budding artist she recognized the video as a work of art, more than as a political, social or moral statement. And as a critic she offered some comments, including advise on what needed fixing. One of her particularly enlightened teachers had given her the golden rule of criticism: lead with the positive. Balance is important in criticism as in most aspects of life. Y
ou can follow up with the negative, but get the positive comments in at the very start. Sara thought the little video, shot with two cameras, was well paced, building up to the unexpected if brief climax. Lighting, camera angles, intercutting a medium shot with two extreme close-ups all suggested a high level of craft. The actors were a bit on the amateurish side. Sterling literally did little more than to stand on his mark and never move off the spot. His face was stuck in a smile, a shit-eating happy face grin –☺. By his lack of engagement you’d hardly know he was the focus of everyone’s attention. Nurse Babette, well, according to Sara, she should definitely not quit her day job, which as it turns out is being a graduate student in psychology (emphasis sex therapy). She is not just some bimbo, Sterling affirmed. Sara’s most constructive advise was of a technical nature. A natural enemy of computers, she nevertheless understood some of their uses as tools. She was especially critical of the short’s editing. Why hadn’t he insisted on being pixilated? Pixelization is an image-adjusting tool that lowers the resolution of an image or a portion of an image and thereby distorts it. Blurring is such a standard graphics filter, available in all but the most basic bitmap graphics editors, that even Sara can use it. The public sees the results on the nightly news or on television shows such as COPS, where passersby and other individuals have their faces blurred while the criminal and the police do not. The pixilation of Sterling’s face and genitals would have given the film more mystery and improved its titillating quality. Sterling agreed and he forwarded this advise in a text from Sara’s cell to Jeremiah.
That Sara was not greatly disturbed by the video’s overtly sexual content speaks to the reality of their relationship. Sterling is the clown, Sara his audience. She rebukes him occasionally, but mostly she accepts him for what he is: a youthful soul in search of itself. Like a piece of fruit, if handled properly he will inevitably mature. Sara is biding her time. It was getting late. The insatiable, randy teens had thought about loosing some more calories, but they were already exhausted; Sterling needed a full night of sleep in preparation for his day in court.
The Durham County Courthouse at 201 East Main, has not changed much in the two days since Sterling had last visited. It is still an undistinguished glassy concrete building. Just across the street is the Old Durham Courthouse, its magnificent predecessor, built in 1916 when The Sterling was a mere youth of four.
Upon entering room 616, Sterling thinks he has been teleported from the 3rd Millennium back to an old folk’s home from the 1950s. One man is slumped back in a wheelchair; another moves about with a portable oxygen tank on a roller; a woman knits a children’s sweater. Two other women compare wallet-sized photos of their grandchildren. The room’s temperature is set to the high seventies, although most of the jurors are bundled up as if it were still winter. There is coffee and so many different types of baked goods that the room has the aroma of a French bakery. The atmosphere is like the rec center his mother’s parents frequent: clubby while maintaining sufficient cantankerousness.
Sterling’s image of the grand jury has been informed by what he has read on the internet over the past few weeks, ever since the Smiley Boy matter had arisen out of the blue. Creatures of the individual fifty states, grand juries operate differently among the states. In North Carolina they are impaneled by the local superior court and constitute a part of his or her court. Unsurprisingly, the court operates nearby in the court house. If the DA needs an instant court order, all he has to do is walk to the judge’s chambers for a signature. This is a close knit community where people know each other’s business – about a sister-in-law who just failed a mammogram or a grandchild who is having trouble at school.
In North Carolina the grand jury’s mandate is to determine whether or not an individual or organization should or should not be charged with a crime. The bottom line: is there sufficient evidence to indict? Sterling has thoroughly familiarized himself with Chapter 15A of the general statutes of North Carolina: Criminal Procedure Act. Grand Juries have 12-18 jurors, a minimum of 12 must vote for an indictment. Sterling counts 17 jurors, along with a stenographer. This means he needs to have six of them on his side. This jury was convened two years ago and today is its next to last day before its plug is pulled. Sterling has no way of knowing whether these jurors have aged much during their session; he can tell only that they are indeed aged now. Some might just be counting the seconds before dismissal; others may be anxious about losing membership in the secret club they are now a part of. They all take the secrecy part of jury duty serious. They almost never tell anyone, except close family, what happens, although they occasionally drop a few juicy anecdotes on the grocery line, for example, once indictments have appeared in the press. They relish knowing grisly details of rapes, mayhem and domestic violence. In their individual communities of elderly folk they are considered to be legal scholars. They too think of themselves as paralegals, a fitting end for lives that have consisted mostly of routine blue collar employment or housewifery.
Before he entered this chamber of the near-dead – Sterling feels the elderly have their place but wonders if they are up to the challenge of serving as his peers – his lawyer, Stacy James, and Assistant District Attorney Abernathy had a spirited discussion. Sterling had been present for this hallway confab but had remained completely silent unless asked a specific question to which he replied merely “yes” or “no.” His taciturnity was on order of his lawyer, who had earlier sat him down, given him extremely clear instructions, and made him repeat them word-for-word back to him. He did this with all his clients, the excellence of their memories notwithstanding.
Mrs. Abernathy had first handed James the proposed immunity order. He took a minute to read it through and then he highlighted the salient features for Sterling. They were offering “use immunity,” through which he would be protected for the actual testimony he gave pursuant to the immunity order. James was adamant in his recommendation against accepting this type of immunity. It was essential that Sterling be given “transactional immunity,” which provides the greater protection. This would prevent him from being prosecuted for any transactions which he reveals in the course of the compelled testimony. Although information or leads derived from a witness’ actual testimony under use immunity cannot be used against him, he could still be prosecuted if the charges could be proven by evidence independent of the information he provided. In other words, if they could find a copy of Smiley Boy off the web or from another source, they could prosecute, that is, if he accepts “use” instead of “transactional” immunity.
Sterling had argued for “no testimony without immunity;” the DA had agreed to “no immunity without testimony” and caved in on transactional immunity. By immunity, however, Sterling meant immunity for not only himself but for the three others: Babette, the producer and the director/cameraman. After some more discussion, Mrs. Abernathy agreed each would receive use immunity while Sterling received transactional immunity. She added that Sterling’s testimony must include a copy of the Smiley Boy video; and, of course, he must answer all questions put to him. This would be stipulated in the revised order that was being word-processed down the hall; Sterling was making a legal secretary and a judge earn their day’s pay.
Sterling had to think quickly, on his feet, on these points. The overarching principle, according to his attorney, was DO NOT LIE. Remember Martha Stewart? She was convicted of intentionally misleading SEC and FBI officials who questioned her about insider trading; lying to federal government agents violates Title 18, United States Code, Section 1001, the price of which can be five years in prison and a $250,000 fine. Sterling is in state, not federal, court, but the Martha Stewart example should not be ignored. Ironically, investigators went after Ms. Stewart for financial crimes, but she could have probably pleaded out to avoid jail time; the judge even threw out the more serious securities fraud charge. It was the lying to federal investigators that broke the camel’s ba
ck. And remember Al Capone? For a conviction-free career of murders and mayhem, he was jailed for simple tax evasion.
Sterling’s stubbornness is not much of a secret, to either himself, his attorney or the assistant DA. He is, fortunately, also stubbornly determined not to lie. The only possible line of questioning that he fears involves the phone conversation he had overheard and the fact he knows the name of the Atlanta man behind the pornography operation. Lawyer James is the only person acquainted with this information; lawyer-client privilege prevents him from sharing it with Mrs. Abernathy. Sterling had made it clear he does not wish to reveal this information; since it is hearsay it cannot be admissible in court, in any case. The Atlanta man is well connected (in the mob sense); Sterling had Googled him and learned that he had had previous scrapes with the law involving narcotics and immigration (importing Ukrainians to be Atlantic City prostitutes); he has never been convicted, however; but he is clearly suspected of being involved in organized crime, according to press accounts, who dub him a Tony Soprano wannabe. Thus, for reasons of personal safety if for no other grounds, Sterling feels it essential that the Atlanta man’s name not be associated with this investigation. As his lawyer has said, he himself is just an innocent victim.
Before Sterling signed off on the immunity deal, he had a final word with James. His attorney seemed worried. Sterling asked what was wrong.
“I have a bad feeling about this, son” he replied. “The DA gave us transactional immunity for you and use for the others; it doesn’t make sense. I would not have agreed. They’re holding a much stronger hand than we are. And they have some aces up the sleeve,” he explained.
“They really want the tape, I guess,” Sterling suggested. “It’s totally disappeared from the web.”
“You think?” James reflected. He pondered a moment. “Sterling, my best advice is still my first advice: that you don’t testify. We can tear up the immunity here and now and you can exercise your Fifth Amendment privilege. It’s a safe bet that nothing further is going to happen.”
Sterling shook his head. “I don’t want to look guilty; I’m not guilty. A principle’s at stake here.” He had turned and entered the room. At that point James knew he’d done his best; he also knew a lot of innocent folk have been jailed for their principles.
The questioning in room 616 is conducted by Mrs. Abernathy. Mr. Miles is only an observer. Sterling is first introduced to the forewoman, a older lady, who offers him a blueberry muffin, which Sterling has to decline, explaining he is on a diet. No one in the jury room, however, believes that such a thin boy is on a diet; the jurors’ instant evaluation of this teenager is that he is a boy who cannot be trusted. And he has just offended the forewoman, their friend. The boy could have at least taken the muffin and just not eaten it, they reason.
Sterling answers the questions regarding name, address et cetera, his responses duly recorded by the stenographer. He is then asked a series of pretty straight questions about the Smiley Boy video which results in his relating, truthfully, all the events leading up to the actual filming of the video:
In the second week of January at the start of the semester, Sterling had been on the Chapel Hill campus for the course he audited for his AP in Comparative Government and Politics. He had struck up a conversation with two fellow students, both from the Subcontinent. They had asked some details about Sterling’s life and he mentioned he had been taking courses at UNC for three years. Having said this supposedly impressive CV item, he looks over at the jurors, who seem unmoved. He then adds, for their benefit, that he is a high school junior in a school for exceptional kids and he takes most of his courses at university. The jurors, few of whom have college degrees, cannot fully relate to the boy genius; that lack of connection is manifested in what Sterling perceives as bored faces; so he focuses back to Mrs. Abernathy and gives no further thought to the others in the room. The Indians, Sterling continues, did not ask his specific age but they may well have concluded he had to be over eighteen. It turns out that the young men were film students and they were looking for an actor for a video they were making for distribution back home in India. They wanted Sterling for a bit role, just a few hours’ work. They would pay a thousand bucks cash. One produced ten crisp Ben Franklins from his coat pocket, Sterling confirms in response to Ms. Abernathy’s question. Sterling reveals that he had immediately suspected this might involve what Indians call a blue film, or softcore pornography. He then asked the boys if they were into softcore or hardcore. They had answered soft.
Ass’t DA: Please tell the jurors how you differentiate between softcore and hardcore pornography?
Witness: It’s sort of “you know it when you see it.” There’s not a clear line. Or maybe the line’s been changing, even during my lifetime.
Ass’t DA: You are familiar with pornography?
Witness: Hey, I’m a teenager.
This produces a smile on the faces of just five jurors.
Ass’t DA: Full frontal nudity, is that softcore or hardcore?
Witness: both or either.
Ass’t DA: Penetration as in sexual intercourse?
Witness: Definitely hardcore. Anal intercourse, also.
Ass’t DA: Penile erection.
Witness: Depends on context. Wikipedia has an 18 second video of an erection on their ejaculation page.
Ass’t DA: Ejaculation is hardcore or softcore?
Witness: It depends on context.
One of the alert jurors raises his hand and receives the forewoman’s nod to speak. He asks for the witness to explain Wikipedia. Sterling explains, as one might to a child, in the manner he reserves for the pee-wees. He spells the name of the on-line encyclopedia for the jurors and instructs them to do is a search for “ejaculation.” “Don’t worry about spelling. The search engines can guess what you mean. Wiki is really simple to use. Ask your grandchildren,” he advises, with no condescension intended. Many jurors write down the words internet, Wikipedia, and ejaculation. Mrs. Abernathy continues:
Ass’t DA: Let’s turn to the video known as Smiley Boy. You acknowledge you appear in the video?
Witness: I do.
Ass’t DA: In its brief stay on the internet, it was viewed by the public, is that correct?
Witness: Yes. There were 325,403 views in the two days it was on YouTube before they took it off.
Ass’t DA: when was that exactly?
Witness: February 20th and 21st.
Ass’t DA: The Smiley Boy video, is it hardcore or softcore?
Witness: That’s in the eye of the beholder. I can cite several books on this, on how women have changed the very definition of pornography.
Ass’t DA: In your eye as a beholder, hardcore or softcore?
Ass’t DA: softcore. It’s no big deal. A bodily function. It is in the encyclopedia.
The DA gives Mrs. Abernathy his legal pad with some notes. She nods.
Ass’t DA: Let’s turn to the day you made the Smiley Boy video. First, you have a copy for the jurors?
Sterling retrieves a flash drive and hands it to her.
Ass’t DA: Thank you. [to stenographer] Note that the witness, as requested, has submitted for the record a copy of the Smiley Boy video. [to Sterling] This video was shot in a University of North Carolina – Chapel Hill dormitory room. Please give us the exact location and dates of filming.
Witness: I am sorry I cannot do that, mam. I was taken to one of the dorms and we went up a few flight of stairs. I never was given the exact location. It was north campus, near the library and tennis courts, I believe. It was February 12th of this year, just then, from about 3:45 to 4:45.
Ass’t DA: And you were paid one thousand dollars.
Witness: Yes. I have instructed my accountant to treat it as earned income.
Sterling is pleased with himself. He has all the right answers.
Ass’t DA: Before the actual taping of the video, you were in the dorm
itory room with the two Indians and an actress. Is that correct?
Witness: Yes, correct.
Ass’t DA: You do not remember the names of the two Indians?
Witness: They must have had very long names because they said I could just call them Singh and Raj. Probably not their real names. And they might have been Pakistani or Bangladeshi or Tamil. I never asked.
Ass’t DA: And what were they doing during the minutes before the video was shot?
Witness: Setting up for the shoot.
Ass’t DA: Were they on the phone?
Witness: Yes, one was.
Ass’t DA: Whom was he speaking with?
Witness: Is this really relevant? It’s only hearsay.
Mrs. Abernathy turns to the jurors.
Ass’t DA: The rules of evidence that apply to the trial jury do not apply to your grand jury. We are just probing. The witness must answer the question. [to Sterling] Whom was he speaking with?
Witness: I cannot answer that question.
Ass’t DA: If you don’t know, just say you don’t know. But you must answer the question.
Sterling thinks for a moment.
Witness: I want to speak with my lawyer.
Sterling is permitted to leave the grand jury room. Attorney James is conducting other legal business on his phone. He immediately dismisses that client and he and Sterling engage in several minutes of heated discussion.
“How can they know I overheard the conversation? You must have told them!” Sterling says, adamantly, controlling the tone and pitch but not the anger in his voice.
“Sterling, calm down. Of course, I didn’t tell them, but you can be goddamn sure that one of the other three people in the dorm room did. These are the friends you are protecting! One of them must have struck a deal with the DA. No wonder they were so eager to have you testify. It wasn’t only about getting the video. Maybe the Indians have visa issues. You never told me foreigners were involved. That’s an immediate red flag,” James says.
“I will not testify,” Sterling says. “I’ll take the Fifth. That’s what you suggested. Now I’ll do it.”
“You can’t,” James says.
“You said I could.”
“That was then, before you testified. Once you start, you can’t selectively respond.”
“No one told me that.”
James doesn’t know how to respond. You set upon a strategy with a client and then follow it. A lawyer cannot be responsible for telling his client all the legal minutia that are relevant in the various permutations outside that strategy. Sterling seemed to have such a strong grasp of the law, much more than even James’ incarcerated clients who were budding jailhouse lawyers. But now he wants to change the rules; the rules are not his to change, however. The lawyer doesn’t have to explain this to his client. He has figured it out.
“I’ll take the consequences,” Sterling avers.
James looks at his watch. He’ll have to stay around to follow this through; it could take all morning. Today would end up costing Sterling over $5000 in legal bills. And the tab is just commencing. He calls his firm for backup.
Back in room 616, Sterling takes his seat. The stenographer repeats the question to which he responds:
Witness: I invoke my right against self-incrimination, as granted me by the Fifth Amendment of the United States Constitution.
Ms. Abernathy excuses herself to have a word in the corridor with Sterling’s attorney.
This is not the first time, nor will it likely be the last, that Sterling finds himself behind bars. He stands in a holding tank for the court house. It is just a cell. Not even a bench or a bucket to pee in. Nothing much can happen here. All the action is upstairs. Sterling is trying to figure out to whom, if anybody, he will make his one phone call. Maybe he can take a rain check. Right now, there is no one he wishes to speak to, certainly not his parents. He finds it ironic that he has finally out-smarted himself. He knew he was going to have an especially bad day when James told him that he would be meeting in chambers with Judge Eziekiel Winters. Sterling shutters at hearing the name, as in Winters of his discontent. He knows he is in deep shit.
In North Carolina judges of Superior Court move around their division; less entrenchment translates into less corruption, so the theory goes. Ezekiel Winters had been up in the ninth district for the six month rotation. He was not especially glad to come back to the fourteenth, even though it was less of a commute for him. It is true that the third division was fairly compact, so no commute was that tedious. The real reason the judge had no affection for the fourteenth, which includes his home base Cary, was it had too many weirdoes: a lot of intelligent, well educated Triangle types who cause mega trouble, too smart for their own good, like the Unabomber in California. Just this morning, he had been in a bad mood because his wife of forty years had refused to accommodate his pre-workday marital needs. When he was in a funk, he often thought about life’s least amusing moment: bikegate and that sterling punk, the gang leader with the long unpronounceable Greek name.
In the five years since his encounter with Sterling & gang Judge Winters has risen from District Court (traffic) to a Superior Court bench. It was not an elevation without difficulty. Winters had initially been appointed as District Court Judge by the Governor to fill the remainder of a term that had resulted from a vacancy (the former occupant itched to get back into lucrative private practice). He faced his first election in November 2004, when bikegate was still on the mind of the voters. He lost by a substantial margin; he attributed the loss to all the bad press he had got from bikegate within the District. Others might say he lost to a better qualified, if inexperienced, candidate, an African-American Cornell graduate. In any case, he sat out justice for two years and then decided to run for Superior Court, which is considered a step up the judicial ladder from District Court. Judge Winters had done the math. The average annual workload for District Court judges is 12,527 cases. The similar figure for Superior Court office-holders is 3,298. In addition, the election for the higher office is statewide, even though judges run for and serve in a specific geographical district, the same as the District judges whose electors live only in the district. Winters did not even bother to campaign in the Triangle and he raised funds from statewide donors who had local R&D interests. A good fund raiser who blanketed state television with his sleek 30-second infomercials, he easily won the eight year term (District Court judges serve for four years, another mark against the office). So if it hadn’t been for Sterling, Judge Winters might have dead-ended in District Court. He was not about to thank “the brat,” however, and if “the snot” ever again appears before him, he would be well advised to dodge the book the judge intends to throw at him with all his might.
It is often said that the wheels of justice turn slowly. In this matter Judge Winters is a veritable Lamborghini in black robes. Usually when DA Miles approaches a judge on small matters – such as Sterling’s contempt – the adjudicator takes them under advisement. Winters is an expert at judicial procrastination; he can outwait the fiercest perfect storm of hovering lawyers. It takes a few days at the very least to get all the paperwork in order if the wheels have not been properly greased; Winters controls the greasegun. But at the mention of a name Eumorfopoulos, so ingrained in his memory, he took an immediate interest in the request. Of course he had been forewarned. He had been alerted that Sterling was to appear before the grand jury when he had been given the first immunity order to sign. He had suggested use immunity rather than its transactional cousin. The judge could only hope that the kid would refuse to testify. “If pigs could fly,” he thought to himself. So when the assistant district attorney came in with yet another revision, he dutifully signed, resigned that this would be another in a lifetime of disappointing judicial days.
Judge Winters was hearing a case in room 599 and wished to complete it before noon. Lawyers were about to commence closing argum
ents in a minor drug case, when he was slipped DA Miles’ note asking for an immediate hearing. He adjourned court on the spot, although the defense attorney had already risen to address the jury. “You buffoon,” Winters thought, “There’s no way your client will walk. No need to close; I’ve already decided on 3 to 5.” “We’ll reconvene at 2 P.M.,” he announced, banging down the gavel.
Poor Sterling. Who would have thought that having an unforgettable name can be such a disadvantage? And what were his chances of getting the same judge he’d had before (Winters is one of 17 judges in the third division, thus a 6 ¼ % chance of landing his nemesis, in fact). Perhaps any judge would have ruled the same, but Winters facilitated the ruling so that Sterling couldn’t do more than step out on East Main before he was arrested. The judge wasn’t about to deprive the boy, who had once made him look so foolish, his day in court, or rather his night in jail. Judge Winters figured on extending the Grand Jury for as long as possible. How disappointed he must have felt when his clerk reminded him that the jurors had only one day of service left. He asked the clerk to double check, to see if the forever useful terrorism card could be invoked. The next question was how could he get the boy for criminal, rather than civil, contempt. The former is defined as willful disobedience, resistance, or interference with a court’s lawful process, order, or directive. In North Carolina, it carries a penalty of 30 days imprisonment and/or $500 fine. Civil contempt carries an indefinite period of imprisonment (as long as the civil contempt continues, which means as long as the grand jury sits). The DA also wanted the former; the latter would have to suffice for the moment, Judge Winters agreed.
James had assured Sterling, that the grand jury’s term would end before the Court got around to dealing with the contempt charge. One cannot be jailed for contempt of court after the Grand Jury’s authority expires. Not wanting to lose even a second, however, the Judge called in his secretary and dictated over her shoulder into a template on the desktop. The result:
North Carolina Superior Court for the Third Division, Fourteenth District
In re: Grand Jury; Misc Nos.: session 05-05-2007
ORDER
Pending before the Court is the Motion of the STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA, by JOHN Q. MILES, DISTRICT ATTORNEY, PROSECUTORIAL DISTRICT 14, to hold witness Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos in civil contempt of court pursuant to NCGS § 5A. This Court finds as follows:
Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos accepted on May 31, 2009 a subpoena as per NCGS § 15A-623 for grand jury testimony and the production of certain videographic maerial.
1. Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos was subsequently issued a grant of immunity by this Court on June 2, 2009 under NCGS §15A-1053.
2. The grant was duly accepted by Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos on June 2, 2009.
3. Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos began his testimony on said date but then refused to continue, invoking his right against self-incrimination.
4. Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos has, in person and through counsel, thus refused to comply with the grand jury subpoena without just cause in violation of NCGS §15A-803.
5. Based on this refusal, Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos is in civil contempt of this Court.
6. Based on the foregoing findings of fact, and for the reasons stated in open court, it is hereby ORDERED that:
7. Sterling P. Eumorfopoulos is ordered confined at a suitable place until such time as he is willing to comply with the grand jury subpoena. The period of confinement shall not exceed the life of the term of the grand jury, including extensions, and in no event shall exceed eighteen months.
8. This order relating to the subject grand jury subpoenas will remain under seal until further order of the Court.
SO ORDERED.
June 2, 2009.
The Honorable Eziekiel Winters
North Carolina Superior Court Judge
Sterling was indeed arrested the moment he hit the pavement, a few minutes after his testimony. Judge Winters personally witnessed the boy’s instant incarceration as he headed out for surf and turf.
The Assistant DA and the defense attorney had had an impromptu afternoon meeting with Judge Winters in chambers. It was off the record. They discussed Sterling’s safety concerns in naming names. “This is not a problem,” argued Miles. “The Grand Jury testimony can be sealed, correct Judge?” “But seals have a way of breaking themselves open,” James countered. The judge said he would review the situation after lunch. One possibility was that Sterling would give the testimony in camera which meant off the record in the judge’s chambers so that the judge could make a decision whether or not his testimony is relevant to the jurors. If Winters ruled that the testimony were not relvant, he could excuse Sterling from testifying at all. The defense attorney pointed out what they all knew: relevance was not in question. Of course, it was relevant. Winters did not have the same negative opinion of James, the lawyer, as he had of his smart-alec client. James had appeared before him in several cases involving nickle and dime crack dealers and had adequately handled a few wife beaters. Taking on this kid was degrading to his practice, according to the judge. In any case, he would deal with motions after lunch. He then went out and treated himself to a Surf & Turf buffet special.
Judge Winters returns from lunch in such a jolly mood. He makes the DA and defense attorney wait, while he calls in the lawyers involved in the other matter. He tells them to work this out in the next five minutes “to save the taxpayers; arrive at a deal;” an accord is reached in which the defendant received two years, down from the earlier 3 to 5. Winters no longer has to waste time with closing arguments and jury deliberation. He can devote the full force of the law in Humanity v. Wiseass Punk. The judge is indeed in a jolly mood.
He then meets with Ms. Abernathy and James, who had talked with Sterling in the interim.
“My client won’t budge, your honor,” James advises them.
“He won’t budge out of his prison cell that’s for sure,” the Judge concludes.
“Another matter has come up, your Honor,” Ms. Abernathy says. “The video he gave us is encrypted, and we can’t access without a password.”
Miles looks surprised:
“I know nothing about encryption,” he says. “You asked for a USB drive, he gave it to you. With this technologically advanced generation, you have to be very specific with what you want. You should have asked for an unencrypted file. You didn’t.”
“Your honor, the defendant is playing with the court. He’s trying to make a mockery of the judicial process,” she says.
“He’s a kid, your honor. He’s certainly not capable of the sinister behavior he’s being accused of.”
From personal experience Judge Winters knows exactly what Sterling is capable of. Now he had him on criminal contempt. This is turning into a really fine day.
“What does the District Attorney want?
“The encryption key, your honor,”
“So ordered. And if you don’t get it, you can pursue criminal contempt. Get the paperwork and I’ll sign. Call me at home, if necessary. Better do it before the grand jury is dismissed, which is when?” he asks.
“This is its last case. We can release as soon as we have a viewable video,” she responds.
“No, better have them come back in tomorrow,” the judge says. “Is that all?” he asks impatiently.
“The matter of where my client will spend the night, Judge. I ask the Court to release the child on his own recognizance. He’s not a flight risk and his father is an officer of the court.
“RoR denied. Anything else?,” the judge decrees.
James stops while he’s still only slightly behind. He visits Sterling in cell he’s been transferred to: it contains a mattres, flush toilet and tap. James informs him he has alerted his parents and tells Sterling to use his permitted phone call to telephone them and ask for whatever he needs for the evening.
“And give me the goddamn unencrypted video. Immediately. Do
you understand?” he says in a very harsh tone. “No more games,” he adds.
Sterling writes down the password to unlock the video: SmileyBoy. No more games, he understands. He is becoming resigned to his fate.
Fate arrives in the form of his parents. They bring a change of underwear, some toiletries and an additional blanket. Pandely’s experience has told him that overnighters are always cold in the morning. They have arrived at supper time. Sterling was given several slices of Wonder Bread with some sort of processed cheese stuck between.
Catherine and Pandely determine he is as comfortable as possible. Pandely, who is still in uniform, rises. He whispers something privately to his son, which shocks the both of them. He then leaves mother and son alone.
“Mother,” Sterling starts. “I know this looks bad, but there’s a principle at stake here. In the end you will be proud of the outcome.”
Neither says anything for a moment. Catherine takes in a deep breath and begins:
“Son, everything with you is a game. You just go through life with a set of blinders, playing your game.”
“Mother…”
“You let me speak, Sterling. You listen to every word so you can replay this and understand what I am saying.”
“All right.”
“We’ve known you were special since very early on. You weren’t like Susan. I mean, both of you were hardheaded and independent and thought you could raise yourselves. You had to because I guess Pan and I didn’t do our jobs very well.”
Sterling wants to disagree but he realizes his silence is better. He awaits his mother’s confession. She pauses and swallows. It’s almost as if she is holding back tears. He has seen both his parents cry together, only once in his life. That was when his sister’s coffin was being lowered into the ground. He didn’t cry. He was way too angry then. It was the13th of February, coincidentally the day after he made his video. His mother has composed herself and continues.
“You were a handful. I guess we indulged you. That first Palm Pilot or whatever it was. We shouldn’t have given that to a six year old. That was a mistake, one of many. I’ve had a long talk with your father about where we’ve gone wrong. You might not think anything’s wrong, but we realize something’s been wrong. Masturbating on the internet is wrong.”
“I didn’t masturbate, mother.”
“Call it what you want. I can’t win at semantics with you. Sterling, we need to figure out what has gone wrong. And we will, Sterling. You and your father and me…” She pauses and continues: “…and I think Sara, too. We’ll figure this out. We lost one child. We will not lose another.”
She composes herself again. Sterling feels rotten, too. A single tear rolls down his cheek. Then another.
“When you get home tomorrow – the lawyer hopes tomorrow but maybe not if you continue to refuse his advice, which is why you’re here. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, mam.”
“When you get home, your life will be different. You can accept the changes or you can leave. Pan and I have decided not to oppose your emancipation, if that’s what you want. You’ve threatened us with this before, telling us how smart you are, smart enough to take care of yourself. We won’t stand in your way. We don’t want that, of course. Losing a child is the worse thing that can happen to a parent. I’m telling you all this now because you need to prepare yourself. There will be a different set of rules if you want to stay with us. You will live with those rules or you will live somewhere else. I have talked with my folks and they have agreed not to accept you.”
“Not?”
“That’s right, NOT. You’re not going to be a burden to them. I will not have you tricking them, playing your games with them. You will not even talk to them, without my being present. Do you understand?
“Yes.”
“And you will see a therapist.”
Sterling offers no reaction. He will not let someone fuck around his head. This is not a subject open for discussion, now or later.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
Sterling realizes that his legal problems will be the least of his worries. A new future is about to unfold.