Chapter 36

The Supreme Court of Justice was hushed as everyone waited for the judge to arrive. Amber Banks sat next to her attorney with her head held high at the Counsel’s table. Her emerald-green eyes stared straight at the wooden paneled walls opposite from where she sat, not making eye contact with anyone. She was dressed in an oversized orange prisoner jumpsuit which was much too big for her petite body and her normally soft and fiery red curls were tied back in a loose ponytail. 

Behind her, a soft glow of warm sunlight streamed into the otherwise stuffy room filled with people, highlighting the dust particles that danced and twirled in the air.

To the untrained eye, Amber came off as aloof, emanating a sense of emotional detachment from her surroundings, inwardly, however, she was breaking down. None of the jury sitting behind the bulletproof glass wall could see, but beneath the wooden table where her cuffed hands lay, she was trembling. Her hands were shaking so much that she had to dig her thumbnails into her index fingers just to calm herself.

Calm down, don’t puke, stay strong, she told herself.

“All rise! The court is now in session.”

Everyone in the room stood up solemnly. Amber followed suit, feeling somewhat lightheaded.

Don’t pass out in the middle of the trial. Let them sentence me first, she willed herself as she fought back a tunnelling vision. The whole room felt like a roller coaster ride. Anson needs to be safe.

In walked an elderly judge with a kind face and Amber let out a tiny sigh of relief when he signaled for everyone to sit down. She grabbed the edge of her seat as she did, just so she wouldn’t sway.

The judge cleared his throat, “Everyone but the jury may be seated, Bailiff John Deere, please swear in the jury.”

A young freckled faced bailiff nodded at the judge and turned to the jury of twelve, “Please raise your right hands. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will truly listen to this case and render a true verdict and a fair sentence as to this defendant?”

At this point, the words that came out of the bailiff’s mouth sounded very distant, as if he was talking from a place far, far away. Amber blinked as the members of the jury suddenly turned to face her and she gulped, trying to sit as still as possible even though she felt like she was floating on air.

In a resounding voice, every member of the jury replied, “Yes I do.”

But even though the dizziness was ever-present, the words the jury said rang loud and clear. Amber swallowed hard. There was no way out now. This was the end of the road for her.

The elderly judge who sat at the head of the courtroom began, “Members of the jury, your duty today will be to determine whether the defendant is guilty or not guilty based only on facts and evidence provided in this case. The prosecution has the burden of proving the guilt of the defendant beyond a reasonable doubt. This burden remains on the prosecution through the trial. The prosecution must prove that a crime was committed, and that the defendant is the person who committed the crime. However, if you are not satisfied with the defendant’s guilt to that extent, then reasonable doubt exists, and the defendant must be found not guilty.”

“Bailiff John Deere, what is today’s case?”

Bailiff John Deere who remained standing replied, “Your Honor, today’s case is the State of California versus Amber Banks.”

At the mention of her name, Amber could feel the heat of everyone’s eyes on her making her feel like a lab rat in a science lab. Unconsciously, she shrunk back in her seat. She took a peek at the benches for the public but did not see either Fabian or Anson. Perhaps it was better that way. She scanned the bench some more and spotted a teary Margaret in the second row. Their eyes locked the instant she saw Margaret and the older woman shook her head, pleading with Amber one last time.

A tremor passed through Amber’s lips, and she mouthed, “Take care of Fabian.” It would be her last request for Margaret, the woman who gave her a second chance at life after her parent’s passing. Fabian would be in good hands and Amber wished nothing but the best for both mother and son. Margaret understood what Amber mouthed and her eyes fell as they started to water. The older woman quickly covered her mouth with a plain white handkerchief, her hands shaking as she tried to muffle her cries.

The judge peered at the prosecutor through his rimless spectacle, “Is the prosecution ready?”

The prosecutor shot up and nodded eagerly. This was probably his first big case, and he was itching to make a name for himself out of this. “Yes, your Honor,” he answered a wee bit too loudly.

The judge winced at the prosecutor’s voice and a wrinkled hand went to his ear before he looked over to Amber’s defense attorney, “Is the defense ready?”

Amber had refused Fabian’s help in securing the state’s best attorney and instead chose the one the county had assigned to her. They had spoken less than two times, and each time when the attorney tried to pry the truth out of Amber’s mouth, she would clam up. He gave up after that.

The defense attorney stood up and looked at Amber, but she did not meet his gaze. Instead, she remained still as a statue in her chair. This elicited a sigh from the attorney, and he shook his head a little, his client wasn’t even putting up a fight to claim her innocence. Strange though, there were beads of sweat forming at Amber Bank’s forehead and her lips had turned an alarming purplish green. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she finally looked up. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and she looked extremely pale, all blood drained from her face.

But just before the attorney could say anything, the double paneled door of the courtroom burst open with a bang, catching everyone by surprise.

“STOP!”

In ran a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Amber Banks. Half his head was wrapped in a bandage and the skin on his legs looked very raw, but there was no doubt he was related to Amber. He ran in, shouting frantically as two court officers jumped into action to restrain him. It was Anson Banks.

At the sight of her brother, Amber’s eyes fluttered wide in shock as her mouth formed an ‘O.’ She stood up and for a brief moment, her eyes met his as he struggled to free himself from the grasp of the officers.

 “I killed him! It was me! I killed him!” he shouted like a madman. At this, a murmur went through the court. Behind him, Fabian, Detective Grant, and the tall lanky policemen from the hospital barged in.

“Your honor! We have the real murderer! He’s here to confess!” the detective shouted, waving his hands as Fabian wrestled Anson out of the officer’s grasp.

No! Don’t do this Anson!

Amber’s heart hammered in her chest as she gazed at the horror unfolding before her very eyes. Her blood turned cold at the thought of Anson living a life behind bars. She could not let this happen; her brother did not deserve this.

“No! It was me!” Amber turned her attention to the judge, pointing to herself with her cuffed hands. “He’s lying! I killed Liam Smith! I scorched him to death with the stun gun!”