Justice For All…


    
By Wild Restraints

 

       Kim Harris sat in the courtroom beside her client and defendant as the jury filed back in from deliberations. She tapped her pen against her pad. This was always the hardest part. All the planning, maneuvering, and arguing inevitably came down to this moment when the jury returned with a verdict.
      This case was a difficult one, her client, was guilty. He admitted to the repeated sexual assault and kidnapping of the victim in private interviews with her. But as a defense attorney, it wasn’t her job to judge just use the law to insure a fair trial. Due to some mistakes made by investigators, she managed to find the reasonable doubt she needed to give him a decent chance of walking clean. Now the time was here to see how well she did at her job.
      “Have the jury reached a verdict?” The judge said.
      “Yes your honor we have.” The jury foreman said.
      “How do you find the defendant on the charge of kidnapping and imprisonment?”
      “We find the defendant Mr. Max Deckard not guilty.”
      She caught her breath and held it. The court gave a collective gasp. The victim and her family broke into tears.
      “We the jury find the defendant not guilty of the charges of sexual assault.”
      The court filled with the moans and cries of an angry family who in their eyes saw justice as a travesty this day.
      “Good job, Ms. Harris I was worried you might not be able to pull it off?” Deckard said, leaning in a little too close.
      His eyes were always on her during the trial. And it wasn’t lost on her that she fit the description of the victim rather closely. Late twenties, shoulder length black hair and even square framed glasses. She did her job and wouldn’t complain if she never saw him again. “Just keep yourself out of trouble Mr. Deckard I won’t be able to help you next time.”
      Deckard smiled wide showing his crooked and missing teeth. He was bald except for a gang tattoo that covered his scalp. Honestly, he looked like your garden-variety skinhead rapist. It amazed even her that she won this case.
      “Don’t you worry I’ve learned my lesson.”
      Bailiffs approached and released Deckard from his shackles, and led him from the courtroom for release. People were filing out of the court as she gathered her belongings. The victim and her family walked passed and she kept her head down avoiding eye contact. “How can you live with yourself defending scum like Deckard.” The woman’s father said.
      The victim, Kristal Headley, her parents and a younger brother were present in court every day during the trial and appeared to be very close. “I just did my job.”
      “Tell yourself that when he attacks another girl.” The bailiff ushered the family from the court before the situation escalated.
      A side effect of being a defense attorney the victims and the public would always end up hating her. Nevertheless, she did not care. She made a fortune doing this work and enjoyed it. The Headley’s would just have to find a way to cope with their grief.
 
      Kim rode the elevator down to the courthouse-parking garage. It has been a week since the trial ended and she was already onto a new case and meeting a new client. The garage was empty except for a few sporadic cars. It was half past eight P.M. and already dark as she sat in front of the wheel. She inserted the key into the ignition and the car hummed to life.
      Everything went black as something covered her head. She started to scream but a hand clamped over her mouth muffling any sound. Her arms were pinned to her sides preventing her from reaching the horn. Then she smelt it, the scent of ammonia or something similar. Whatever it was the bag covering her head was soaked in it and with each breath, her muscles grew weak and her eyes heavy. She kicked and screamed but two strong arms held her against the seat. Her muscles slowed and exhaustion made her struggles futile. After a moment, her brain screamed for her limbs to move but they no longer responded. Her eyes closed, she fought to open them but they refused and she lost consciousness.
      Kim’s eyes opened and she blinked until images became clear. A brain-splitting headache resonated inside her skull. She tried to move but nearly every part of her held in place. Cloth packed her mouth so full that it felt as though her cheeks might rip from her face. Something held the wad in place so tight, it cut into the edge of her mouth. Her head was the only part she could move. She was naked, and strapped with cable ties to a platform that resembled a roll out cot with the mattress removed. Cable ties bit into her wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles. Her arms held level to her shoulders and bent at the elbow ninety degrees. And her legs lashed to the edges of the platform leaving her open and exposed. A single cable tie cinched around her waist so tight that it compressed her stomach several inches making breathing painful.
      Her prison seemed to be an unfinished basement one light hung from the ceiling illuminating the area of the room where her cot sat. She pulled at her bonds and they cut into her skin. She screamed for help but the packing and the cable constricting her stomach made it hard to make much noise.
      Tears flooded down her cheeks as she wailed herself into exhaustion. After several minutes, she fell silent except for her sobs and tried to focus on something other than the pain in her limbs.
      “You’ve tired yourself out I see.” A voice said from the dark.
      Kim raised her head and squinted into the shadows looking for a source to the voice. A man stepped into the light and approached. He stared down at her a ski mask obscured his identity. “You must be confused but don’t worry we’ve met before.”
      The man ripped off his mask to reveal his face. Kim recognized him immediately; it was Mr. Headley, Kristal Headley’s father.
 
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