Date: Tue, 15 Jun 2010 08:24:55 EDT From: Bwstories8@aol.com Subject: Castaway Hotel: Grand Reopening - Book 7, chapters 17 - 18 The Castaway Hotel: Grand Reopening --Book 7 - by BW Copyright 2009 by billwstories Chapter 17 -- Rocky Roads. **Author's Note:** Please read the disclaimer in Chapter 00 before you read this. In the interim, I took the family out to help the Beckers harvest some of their crops and do other chores around the farm. The harvest would eventually take most of the month to complete, seeing we only worked on the weekends, but the boys were actually reveling in seeing some of the fruits of their labor (please excuse the pun). In fact, many of the meals we ate at the farm during our time there consisted of items gathered from the Beckers' garden. The boys thought it was neat that they had actually helped to grow what was now helping to fill their bottomless pits. Besides, it always seems more satisfying when the food you eat is the result of your own effort. We did a great deal of work while we were there and came home Sunday evening tired out from the effort. We had put in a weekend's worth of hard labor, which drained us, but it was a good type of exhaustion. We all felt proud about what we were doing. The fact that we were helping the Beckers cope with the situations they were currently dealing with made it even more rewarding. It may not have eliminated the Beckers' problems, but I did feel it would help to make it easier for them to get through the days, weeks and months ahead. While we were at the farm, the boys also brought their books and homework with them. They did their assignments after dark, when the work on the farm was done for the day, and were basically pretty good about keeping up with everything. Even though they sometimes found it hard to concentrate that late at night, due to their physical exhaustion, they didn't let it get them down. I tried very hard to be understanding about it too, but there were a couple of times when I had to get after one or more of the boys and make him do what was expected. A couple of days after we returned home from our weekend at the farm, Andrew and I got a call advising us we were to come to the doctor's office the next afternoon. The doctor wanted to discuss the results of Andrew's tests with us at that time. Andrew seemed more than a little nervous about what we might find out, but I also think he was hopeful that maybe something could be done to help him. I tried not to let him get too optimistic, since I didn't want him to sink into another depression if things weren't as positive as he wished. Therefore, it was with more than a little apprehension that I took him to see what the doctor had learned. Even though Andrew was now convinced the family didn't consider him immature, he was still encountering the looks and teasing at school. This seemed to have undone much of the progress we made at his birthday party, so I was hoping for some positive feedback from the doctor, for my son's sake. Shortly after our arrival, we were led back to an examination room, where we waited for the doctor. He came in, greeted us and then looked at Andrew's chart. "Well, there doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with you," he began. "All your tests came back normal, but it appears as if you will have to wait a little longer before you begin puberty." Andrew looked crushed by this pronouncement. "Isn't there something you can do to help me?" he pleaded. "Not at this time," the doctor responded, "but if you haven't shown signs of beginning puberty by the time you are fifteen, then I might try giving you hormone shots to stimulate the process." "But that's two years away!" Andrew whined, since he wanted more immediate relief. "Why can't you do that now?" "It's because I'd prefer your body start the process naturally," he explained. "My profession doesn't normally consider a boy as having delayed puberty until he's at least fifteen or older. Besides, giving you hormones prematurely can contribute to other problems, which would be far worse than having to wait a year or two to catch up physically with your friends." Andrew looked crestfallen, since he'd hoped today he would receive the answer to his prayers. "What kinds of problems are we talking about doctor," I asked, to clarify the situation for Andrew. "Let's just say that even though Andrew is now thirteen, his bones are much younger in development. There is nothing wrong with that, but until his skeletal frame has reached the correct growth age for puberty to begin, we won't artificially stimulate the process." I wasn't sure if that answered my question, or Andrew's, but I also didn't know what else I could do. "Isn't there anything we can do to help him?" I asked, in desperation. "There is," the doctor replied. "I think it might help for you to have him see a counselor, to discuss his reaction to the situation and talk about how he's feeling. I think his problems are more emotional and social concerning this issue, rather than physical." Even though we had tried to do some of that on our own, I considered what the doctor said and realized it might not be such a bad idea. I would discuss this possibility with Andrew later, to get his take on it, and maybe we could set something up for him in the near future, if he agreed to it. The ride home was long and quiet. No matter how agonizing this journey was, it wasn't as bad as the situation would get before Andrew began to show signs of physical maturity. I guess I never really considered how badly a late bloomer could be scarred, both emotionally and psychologically, by developing slower than his peers, but now I was seeing those effects. I concluded something would need to be done to make others aware of this problem, so no one else would have to endure the pain that Andrew was feeling now, but hadn't yet determined how to proceed. As the days slipped by, we continued to help the Beckers with the harvest and to prepare for the winter ahead, but things weren't going as well as we hoped for them. Mrs. Becker was slipping further inside herself, as the Alzheimer's progressed, and it was getting to the point where she hardly ever recognized us any more. Painfully, that even included her husband and son at times too. It was very hard on both of them when she asked who they were and what they were doing there, especially for Richard, since he was now forced to cope with losing another parent. I felt bad for him, but I also felt sorry for Mr. Becker, who was not only losing his wife, but was also having to deal with all of the extra work which was now thrust upon him. Keeping an eye on her was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day, and that, combined with doing her share of the chores, was taxing his physical endurance. In addition to these increasing problems, he also feared for his wife's safety. She would do things that were extremely dangerous, so he now began to consider putting her in a nursing home, where she would get 24-hour care and supervision. He knew it was impossible for him to watch her every second of the day and feared she'd do something that would not only harm herself, but Richard and him as well. Although he realized he needed to do something about this situation, it wasn't an easy choice. He knew if he went this route, he would also be acknowledging his wife would never get any better and that would be a bitter pill for him to swallow. I think some of the determining factors were recent 'events' in the kitchen -- one where she turned the propane on for the stove, but forgot to light it at the time, and another where she started dinner and then forgot and went to bed. Everything burned and nearly set the house on fire. It was now to the point where Mr. Becker would have to choose the lesser of two evils -- either keeping her home and risking a major accident or facing the fact that his wife was no longer there and commit her to long-term care. I didn't envy him that decision. Besides helping the Beckers, I also had a more pressing issue to deal with. The four boys accused of assault would be going to trial soon and I had been working closely with our attorney, helping prepare the boys' defense. I had been phoning those boys regularly, to keep them informed and get needed information. The last time I called was to let them know either Jake or I would pick them up the following weekend, because jury selection was scheduled to begin next Monday. I also called Brandon's parents and gave them that information too. They said they'd schedule a flight to get here on the weekend and reserve a room for the week. I told them not to worry about the room, because the Spences had already told me they could stay with them while they were here. The O'Haras thanked me and told me to thank the Spences for them too, even though they'd see us all soon. Now, I just had to call the Spences and inform them when the O'Hara's would be arriving. We were all nervous about the trial starting, but we were also hopeful it would mean we would soon be able to put this behind us and things could go back to normal. The boys were concerned about some information our lawyer had shared with us, that if convicted, they would be facing several years in prison for the assault. Up until then they had thought four years of college was a long time, but that would be nothing, compared to spending years locked up in a cell with some of the most violent elements of society. This was not something they wanted to consider. Unfortunately, they had to admit it was a possibility they might be forced to deal with later. Even with my reassurances that we'd do everything in our power to prevent it from happening, they still weren't convinced they could trust the system would work. We knew this same system had failed them when they were indicted and it had also failed others in the past. However, no matter how flawed the system seemed, we had no other option. The entire household was totally consumed by the upcoming trial and those who weren't directly involved were trying to do whatever they could to help their brothers out. They were also trying to convince me to let them attend the entire trial and not merely just show up on selected days. I was standing firm on this issue, since I was afraid the trial would go on for a long time and cause them to miss weeks of school. I felt one or two days a week would be sufficient time for them to be there and show their support, and I'd even made a schedule to rotate which of them would go. The boys were nearly as adamant about being there the entire time and pleaded with me to give in. They also promised they'd keep up with their school work and make up anything they missed during that time, so I told them I'd keep that in mind and think about it some more. That weekend Jake and I went to transport the boys home, with each of us picking up two of the accused. We collected whatever belongings they thought they would need for an extended stay, seeing the lawyer suggested the trial could last two or three weeks. They had to plan ahead and bring everything they would need now, since I didn't want to be wasting time making additional trips back and forth. I also arranged for them to be able to pick up and submit their class assignments online, as I felt this might help to distract them from dwelling on the worse case scenario. If I made them do their class work, it would indicate I was convinced they'd be vindicated and return to college after the trial. Maybe, if they believed that, then they'd begin to believe the rest of it too and not fret over the possibility of incarceration. The O'Hara's dropped by Saturday evening, after driving in from the airport. They spent some time alone with Brandon and I made sure everyone else stayed away, even Danny. He was upset about having to do that, but I told him they needed some time alone, like he sometimes did with Brandon, and this made him see things differently. I told him they'd ask him to join them when they were ready, but he'd have to wait patiently until then. It was an hour or so later when Brandon finally came out to get him and I could see the relief on his face when the two of them went in to join Brandon's parents. The O'Hara's must have handled things appropriately, because Danny was back to normal after that, and this allowed me to turn my attention to what lay ahead. Monday morning we showed up at court a half hour before we needed to and spent some of that time talking to our lawyer. We introduced him to the O'Haras, and then he advised us about what we should expect during the selection process. Once we understood, Mr. Gouldin went in to prepare, and we waited to be called in. I had agreed to allow all the boys to attend today, because I wanted to show total family unity during our initial appearance. I had talked with their teachers first, to let them know what was going on and to get the boys' assignments. Over time, they eventually persuaded me to allow the boys to be there every day. The various faculty members promised to make sure each boy kept up with his assignments and agreed to notify me immediately if any of them fell behind. Having these reassurances, I finally gave in. The boys were thrilled I had changed my mind and agreed to the stipulation they keep up with their schoolwork. They thanked their teachers too, for helping to convince me. They were all very antsy and nervous about what might happen, but fully committed to stand behind our falsely accused kin. When the time came, the accused and our lawyer took their seats at the defense table and the rest of us piled into the seats behind them. We waited patiently for the judge to enter, and when he did, we were all asked to rise. When we were once again seated, the prosecutor announced his first surprise. "Your honor, I move for a change of venue. I feel Mr. Currie and his family are too well known and have too much influence in this community for this case to be judged solely upon its merits." I did not recognize this prosecutor. I'd been told all the lawyers in the local D.A.'s office had recused themselves due to prior involvement with either my family or Judge Shay. Steve was not only my best friend, but he was also godfather to some of the boys and Vinnie's adoptive father. Although Vinnie wasn't accused, he was part of our family and the connection was obvious. Therefore, this prosecutor had been brought in from a nearby community to try this case. I had heard beforehand that he had been assigned, but I'd never met him. I also heard he was very ambitious, very aggressive and would miss no opportunity to make a name for himself or keep his conviction rate in tact. While I had been contemplating this, the judge had been staring at the acting D.A. and sizing him up, before he responded. "So you think Mr. Currie and his sons have some power to sway the jury pool?" he inquired. "Or do you believe he has other means of influencing their decision?" "Your honor, I believe his position as Superintendent of Schools will intimidate jurors who have children in his charge," he suggested. "So you believe Mr. Currie will seek retribution, if the case goes against his sons?" the judge countered. "It's possible, your honor," he conceded. He looked smug, but seemed to be trying to keep from grinning or appearing too cocky just yet. "Well, I don't agree with your analysis of the situation," the judge announced. "Besides, Mr. Currie is not on trial, his sons are. I am also confident there will be enough potential jurors who either do not have children attending school at present or those who will be able to overcome such concerns and render a fair and impartial verdict. Motion denied." The D.A. went to object to the ruling, but the judge silenced him before he could. "Let's move on, shall we?" he announced. Crestfallen, the lawyer tried to pull his next rabbit out of his hat. "In that case, your Honor, I move that you recuse yourself from this case." "On what grounds?" the judge asked, somewhat perturbed. "Based on your previous association with Mr. Currie, your honor," the prosecutor announced, more timidly this time. "First of all, I have no association with Mr. Currie, other than knowing who he is and having spoken to him when my children attended the middle school. At the time, he was the principal there. However, that was many years ago, and although I respect him professionally, I would only consider him an acquaintance, not a friend. I have also not worked with him in any professional capacity nor represented him in any way. Once again, I must reiterate he is not the one on trial, his sons are. Therefore, motion denied." "I want my objection to both issues noted for the record," the D.A. protested. It began to appear as if he was trying to establish grounds for an appeal, should he lose. "Granted," the judge replied, "but unless you have anything new to address this court with, let's get on with the jury selection and voir dire." The D.A. said nothing more, so the clerk called out the numbers of six prospective jurors and they were brought into the courtroom, placed in to the jury box and took seats. Nervously, they waited to be questioned, to see if the attorneys thought they were acceptable. The judge looked at the jury candidates and began to address them. "The process we are going to go through now is called voir dire, which is an Anglo-French term meaning 'to speak the truth.' First, I will ask you some general questions, to determine your general acceptability as potential jurors, and then each attorney may or may not ask you more specific questions, to see if they wish to challenge your placement on the jury. Do any of you have questions before we begin?" There were none, so the judge continued. "I will ask my questions aloud, but if you wish to answer in private, just raise your hand. I will then call you forward, so you may tell me in a way the others won't hear your response. To begin with, have any of you been convicted of a crime before?" No one responded, so he continued. The judge followed up with other questions, such as: "Are any of you under indictment for a crime at present? Is anyone in your immediate family under indictment or been convicted of a crime within the past ten years? Have you, or anyone close to you, been the victim of stalking or an assault? Do any of you have any physical dysfunction or disease that you think would prevent you from serving on a jury? I will read over a list of individuals and organizations that will be connected with this case, and if you have any ties with those individuals or organizations, please raise your hand and I shall question you further about your association." After those questions had been gone over, the judge excused potential jurors two and five, and then the prosecutor got to question those remaining. "Juror number one, do you think you would be able to decide this case by the letter of the law and not be swayed by personal feelings about any of the persons involved in this case?" "I do," she responded, and then the same question was asked of jurors, three, four and six. "Juror number four, do you have any personal biases in support of homosexuals, which might prevent you from rendering a decision based on the law?" This question shocked us, but gave an indication that things were going to get nasty and the boys' sexual orientation would become an issue in this case. I think the O'Haras reacted more than the rest of us, but they were cool about it, once they'd had a chance to consider it was going to come out eventually. Juror number four responded he did not have any such biases and merely felt everyone should be treated fairly. The prosecutor moved on and repeated the question to the other candidates. Once they answered, the D.A. posed such other questions as: "Do you think professionals or their families are above committing violent crimes? Just because a person or his family is not as respected as another, do you think it immediately means they are lying or not being totally honest? Do you think there is any justification for beating a person until he is permanently disabled?" Once the D.A.'s questioning was complete, he challenged potential juror number four 'for cause,' and that person was dismissed. Now, our attorney stepped forward. I had seen him hastily adding a few additional questions to his list, due to the prosecutor's obvious focus, but now he was ready to begin. "Juror number six, do you have any prejudices against gays that would prevent you from finding them innocent of a crime?" The woman answered no, so our lawyer moved on to ask the remaining candidates. "Juror number three, do you believe that just because a person is accused and arrested for a crime it means he is guilty?" That person also responded in the negative, so our attorney moved on to the others. He followed up by asking: "Do you think policemen, police departments and those in the legal system are infallible or above making mistakes? Do you believe that just because a victim or a witness can place a defendant near the scene of a crime, that person is automatically involved in the crime? Are you capable of listening to contradicting accounts of the same events, weigh the reliability and accuracy of those accounts and then reach a conclusion based upon the law, as it pertains to the case?" When he had finished his portion of the voir dire, Mr. Gouldin dismissed juror number six with a peremptory challenge, so only two of the first six jurors made it through the round. The process was repeated with another six potential jurors and this time only one of them made it through to the end. After that, the process started over again, with another six candidates. It took the rest of the day before the jury was totally seated, and the judge even allowed the court to run late, so the process could be completed before we adjourned for the day. It became obvious the judge wanted to start the trial the following day and didn't wish to start the voir dire process over again in the morning. Once the court session ended for the day, the lawyers went back to their offices to prepare their opening remarks. The boys, Jake and I went home, but once we got there, the proverbial shit hit the fan. "They're going to turn this into the gay and bi boys against the straight boys, aren't they?" Danny screamed, almost as soon as we were inside. "Yes, it appears to be at least part of the strategy the D.A. has in mind," I advised him. I didn't want to alarm them, but didn't know how else to answer him. I certainly couldn't reassure him this wasn't going to happen. "So, the prosecutor is going to try to use the jury's homophobic paranoia to convict us?" Pat asked. "Isn't that discriminatory or illegal in some way?" "I'm afraid not," I replied, "but I think Mr. Gouldin has done his best to make certain those types of people were not chosen to sit in judgment of you. However, it appears the D.A. has learned about the previous altercation with David Hubbard and is planning to use it to establish motive. I'm positive you all remember that incident occurred because of your sexual orientation." "Just my sexual orientation," Shannon protested, "but that was a long time ago!" "I know, but we did go out of our way to make sure he and his friends were suspended," I mentioned. "Then, we set our sites on the Boy Scouts and got some of their funding cut off, based on their discriminatory practices against gays. I'm afraid that stance will help establish the underlying issue was sexual orientation and will weigh heavily in favor of allowing such questions to be brought up." "Damn," Brandon began, "isn't there something we can do to prove that Hubbard started it and it's his prejudice and intolerance that created the problem in the first place?" "I'm convinced Mr. Gouldin will do that," I advised them, "so that might go against them. I also noticed he wasn't in the courtroom today and understand the assault damaged the vertebrae in his back, leaving him a paraplegic. If that is true, I'm sure he'll also appear to be a sympathetic victim when this all comes out." I could see the disappointment and outrage the boys were trying to contain now, but I felt I must give them an honest evaluation of what they were up against. "Pop," Shannon pleaded, "what are we going to do to keep them from making us look like a bunch of fags who jumped a poor, innocent straight guy?" His expression told me he was very upset about what was to come; to the point where I was almost afraid he was going to break down and cry or tear the house apart in frustration. Brandon's parents winced when he said this, but didn't say anything. However, they did go over to comfort their son. At that moment, Jake wrapped his arms around his son too and tried to comfort him through physical contact. However, I surmised Shannon was going to need wisdom and logic to allay his concerns, more than a reassuring touch. With that in mind, I searched my memory to see if I could come up with any tidbit of information that might assuage his fears, but I kept coming up empty. Since I wished to do something to lessen their worries, I offered an alternative. "Why don't we all think about this and even sleep on it tonight," I suggested. "Maybe we'll think of something we can discuss with Mr. Gouldin in the morning, to keep this from happening/" No one seemed satisfied with my suggestion, but they agreed to put their energy into trying to find a way to counter the argument. It was either that or let their anxiety and depression consume them completely, over what we all knew was to come. Dinner was very quiet. No one was very talkative, and believe it or not, they weren't hungry either. There was food left over at the end of the meal and this was something that seldom, if ever, happened in our home. After dinner the boys all disappeared to their rooms, even the ones who weren't involved in the case directly. None of them was in the mood for idle chatter and decided to avoid other forms of entertainment as well. Even the O'Haras had been overtly silent and I'm sure it was because none of us knew what we could say or do to make things better. After Brandon's parents left to go back to the Spences, Jake and I went to bed, deeply concerned about the boys' mental well-being. We spent many hours discussing matters and trying to think of anything that might tip the scales of justice back in our favor, but without success. We were up until the wee hours of the morning doing this, so we got very little sleep. I was still awake when the alarm went off, since I was still thinking about what the new day might bring. The Castaway Hotel --Book 7 - by BW Copyright 2009by billwstories Chapter 18-- The Trial Begins. In the morning, everyone dragged down to breakfast very tense and apprehensive about what surprises the day might hold. I tried to get them to eat a decent meal before they left, but most couldn't eat very much. The four accused boys just picked at the plates I sat in front of them, which only pointed out how badly this was affecting them. As much as it bothered me to see them like this, I could only pray this would soon be behind us and they would be able to go on with their lives. Brandon's parents were there too and they both looked tense and extremely worried. Even though Jake and I tried hard to keep our concerns from showing, the O'Haras were both more transparent with their feelings. I hoped the boys wouldn't notice how they were reacting, because I didn't want them to be any more anxious than they already were, but I wasn't about to say anything to the O'Haras. I didn't want to stress them out any more either and, fortunately, that didn't happen. Before long, we were heading off to the courthouse. Mr. Gouldin met us outside the courtroom and informed us the opening remarks would be given first. Then the prosecution would start calling its witnesses. He explained we should be prepared to hear a great deal of information about the past relationship between the boys and David Hubbard and warned us that much of it would be slanted to make him look better. We told him we understood and promised to keep our cool. Once he'd briefed us, we went in and took our seats. The accused boys at the defense table with Mr. Gouldin and the rest of us sat in the gallery, behind them. A wooden railing was all that separated us, but we were still close enough to show our support. There were others in the courtroom as well, including Mr. Hubbard, David's father, a reporter from the local newspaper and a few other curious townsfolk. Most were there to either support my boys or the victim, so the reporter appeared to be the only unbiased person there, or so we hoped. It wasn't long before the bailiff requested everyone in the courtroom to rise, as the judge entered. Once the judge told us to be seated, he informed the prosecutor he could begin. The D.A. stepped forward and began his address to the jury. "This is a simple case and the facts will point out the hostility between the defendants and David Hubbard. Although we don't have direct or irrefutable proof of the defendants' involvement in the assault on Mr. Hubbard, which inflicted extensive damage to his person, we shall prove these boys had motive, means and opportunity to commit the crime. Not only that, but they were also seen in the vicinity where the attack occurred, shortly before it happened. You will also hear stories about how their sexual preferences and perversions…" "Objection, your honor," Mr. Gouldin interrupted. "The use of that term is not only inflammatory, but inaccurate." "Objection sustained," the judge ruled. "Mr. Osgood, please be careful about the phrases you use when referring to such matters." The District attorney nodded, regained his composure and began again. "You will hear how the defendants' sexual preferences and attractions ignited an initial encounter between these young men. I will also show how this escalated, fueled by the defendants' father's support and influence with certain elements within the community." The boys immediately turned and looked at me, showing they were stunned that I was being dragged into this as well. Personally unfazed by the accusation, I merely motioned them to turn back around, as the D.A. continued. "We will also show how these same young men targeted David Hubbard and his family for payback, over something they had initiated in the first place. Although the facts I present will be sufficient to convict, I hope you do not allow your decision to be tainted by the position and reputation their father carries in this community. Once you have been shown the evidence, I see no way you can avoid returning a verdict of guilty, unless you choose to ignore the law." Other than claiming I influenced what happened, I saw no surprises in his opening. It was pretty much what I expected, especially after witnessing the way he had questioned the potential jurors yesterday. Now, I waited to see how Mr. Gouldin would try to counter his remarks. With the grace and sophistication of a southern gentleman, our lawyer made his way to the front of the jury box and began his own opening comments. "What we have here is a case built on circumstantial evidence and outrageous and egregious suppositions. The problem is, those suppositions and the prosecutions own bias has caused the evidence to be misconstrued and misapplied in this case." Mr. Gouldin glanced over at the prosecution table after saying this, to gauge how his accusation had been received. The D.A. looked annoyed by his statement, but I refocused on our attorney, to see what he had to say next. "The four defendants are fine young men, who are greatly respected in the community, and other than a previous run in with the complainant, have no history of antisocial or criminal behavior. The prosecution will attempt to use their sexual orientation, or suspected sexual orientation, to paint them as bad people, but they are not. Please don't let anything said in that regard sway you from judging this case solely on its merits. "However, on the other side," Mr. Gouldin continued, "we have a young man who has made many enemies over the years. Even though he was the victim of an assault, which has now left him permanently disabled, he is not a sympathetic victim. Instead, he and his friends are using this opportunity to get even with four young gentlemen who had bested them in the past. I believe if you look at the evidence, as it is presented, you will not be able to conclude, beyond a reasonable doubt, that these four young men," he now swept his arm in the direction of my sons, "played any part in what happened, let alone were responsible for it." Just as gracefully as he had approached, and while maintaining the same dignity that made him stand out in a crowded room of people, Mr. Gouldin made his way back to the defense table and took his seat. As he did so, the judge looked toward the prosecution table and spoke. "Mr. Osgood, you may call your first witness," he directed. The prosecutor nodded and rose to his feet. "The state would like to call David Hubbard to the stand." At that moment, the courtroom doors swung open and a member of the sheriff's department pushed David up to the witness stand. He was sitting in a wheelchair and looked about as pathetic as a hound dog dressed up for Halloween. If anything would elicit sympathy for his claim, seeing him in this condition certainly might. I prayed the jury would see through his theatrics and he'd lose this advantage, once he opened his mouth. Up to this point, however, he continued to play it quite well, as his wheelchair was placed beside the witness stand. The judge had previously consented to allow him to stay in it while he gave his testimony, so now the bailiff moved in front of him, to swear him in. "Do you promise the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth in the case now before this court?" "I do," he said, very assuredly, and then glanced at the jury, before glaring at the defense table. "Please state you full name for the record," Mr. Osgood directed him. "David Albert Hubbard," he responded, looking remarkably calm. "David, for the record," the prosecutor continued, "I'd like you to tell the court, in your own words, the events of Thursday, July tenth of this year." David glared at the defense table again, before focusing on the acting D.A. and giving his testimony. "Well, me and some of my friends went out of town to this place we like to party," he began. "We had a good time and almost everyone had left, but I was still there with one of my friends. When she took off, I realized the keys to my car must have fallen out of my pocket, so I went looking for them. While I was crawling on the ground trying to find them, someone snuck up behind me and beat me with something. The next thing I remembered, I was waking up in the hospital, with all kind of tubes running out of my body." "And what happened to you, as a result of this attack?" the D.A. asked next. "The doctors have told me I'll never walk again," he explained, while trying to look as pathetic as he could for the jury. "Whoever attacked me broke a couple of the vertebrae in my back, and that severed the nerve running to my legs." After saying this, he pointed at his legs and his wheelchair, to emphasize the fact he was now permanently paralyzed from the waist down. After giving the jury time to absorb the impact of spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair, the D.A. continued. "Did you see who did this to you?" the prosecutor followed. "No, the cowards hit me from behind," Hubbard replied. "I never heard or saw them coming." You could see he was visibly upset as he said this, which I think most people would read as indicating he wanted to get even with those who attacked him. Unfortunately, it could also be interpreted that he was disgusted he hadn't been injured in a fair fight, but ambushed from behind. "Do you know the accused?" the prosecutor asked, while pointing toward the defense table. "Yes, I do," he responded, spitting the words out like they left a bitter taste in his mouth. "And how do you know those four individuals?" the D.A. pressed. "Because of a fight a few years ago," Hubbard offered, with the same disdain. "Could you elaborate on that?" the prosecutor asked. "We, a couple of my buddies and me, were in the parking lot of the high school when the one guy, Shannon, made a pass at one of my friends," Hubbard explained. "We just tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't go away. I guess he was horny and wanted some action." "Objection, your honor," Mr. Gouldin interrupted. "He's testifying as to the defendant's state of mind at the time." "Sustained," the judge ruled. "The jury will disregard the witness' last statement and, Mr. Hubbard will you please confine your testimony to what actually happened?" "Yes. I'm sorry," he said, while making an expression resembling one a little boy would make after he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. This probably scored him a few more sympathy points with the jury. "Would you please continue," Mr. Osgood urged him. "Well, when he wouldn't go away, we started pushing him, to get him to leave us alone," he testified. "That's when those three, and some of their other brothers, attacked us and we had a big fight. One of them even busted my nose." He paused for effect. "And what happened after that?" the lawyer pushed. "My friends and I ended up getting suspended from school, because of them," Hubbard stated. He sounded as if he had been humiliated and harmed by the suspension, but he was never a good or cooperative student before that incident. "So there is a lot of animosity between you and them?" the D.A. asked. "What's that supposed to mean?" Hubbard asked, since he didn't understand his lawyer's terminology. A couple of the jurors, and some of the crowd, snickered at his ignorance. "Let me rephrase that," the D.A. stated, "In other words, is it true you and the four defendants don't get along and actually despise each other?" "Yes, sir," he announced, with an air of pride. "We can't stand each other." He gave a little smile after adding that comment. After this, Mr. Osgood questioned Hubbard about other issues, including how funding had been cut off to his father's Boy Scout troop and why. He delved, depth, about how our family had lobbied the United Way unsuccessfully and then did all we could to get people to stop donating to the United Way, in order to get back at the Boy Scouts. Hubbard claimed this was all done, "because the Scouts don't let in fags." "That's all I have for this witness, your honor." Mr. Osgood stated, after making a face in response to Hubbard's previous comment. He then turned and went back to his seat, slightly upset that his witness had cost him some of the points he had scored with his previous testimony. "Mr. Gouldin, do you have any questions for this witness?" the judge asked our attorney. "Yes, your honor, a few," Mr. Gouldin confirmed, as he stood up and made his way in front of the witness. "First of all, Mr. Hubbard, I would like to express my sincere sympathy for what happened to you and the prolonged effects it will have," he offered. David gave him a slight snarl, to indicate he didn't believe the comment was sincere. "Thinking back upon that night," our lawyer continued, "you stated you didn't see who attacked you. Is that correct?" "Yes, I already said that," Hubbard snapped, obviously upset that he'd been asked to confirm his previous statement. "Do you have any idea about what time this attack occurred?" Mr. Gouldin continued. "I'm not sure," Hubbard admitted. "I guess I was unconscious for part of the time, but I think everyone started to leave around 9:00, cuz we first got there around noon, so probably between 9:00 and 10:00." "And you say these times because?" Mr. Gouldin pressed. "Well, like I said, everyone started to leave around 9:00," he nearly growled, "and I wasn't alone there for any longer than an hour before it happened." "I see," Mr. Gouldin acknowledged, "and who discovered you after the attack and when did that occur?" "My dad called one of my friends when I didn't get home on time," Hubbard answered, "and he drove back, to see if I had car trouble. That's when he found me, so he called 911 and got me help." "So you were unconscious from the time of the attack until when?" Mr. Gouldin wanted to know. "I guess," Hubbard agreed, "because I don't remember anything until the next morning, when I woke up in the hospital." "Ah, I see," Mr. Gouldin acknowledged. "Now, you've also stated there were many people there with you before the attack occurred, is that correct?" "Yes, a bunch of my friends were there too," Hubbard confirmed. "So one or more of these people could have returned after they left?" Mr. Gouldin asked, which startled Hubbard. "I guess so," Hubbard mumbled, unsure of whether he should be admitting this or not. "How many of your friends would you say were there earlier?" Mr. Gouldin continued. "I don't know. Maybe twenty or thirty," Hubbard answered. His chest seemed to swell with pride after making this statement, as if he was proud to proclaim he had that many friends. "And it was possible there were also others that had heard about your plans and could have known you would be there too?" our attorney added. "Yeah, maybe," Hubbard responded. "I don't know." "So there were many people who either knew or suspected you'd be there and anyone of them could have shown up and carried out the attack upon you. Is that correct?" Mr. Gouldin stated, painting Hubbard into a proverbial corner. "No, my friends wouldn't do that to me," Hubbard insisted, although he now looked worried. "Really? But what about those who merely heard about your gathering?" Mr. Gouldin continued, without letting up. "Aren't there others who might have a grudge against you for some reason?" "Not like them!" Hubbard screamed, to emphasize his accusation, while pointing at my boys. "Ah, yes. Let's get back to what happened between you and my clients," our lawyer suggested. "You stated earlier that Shannon had come on to one of your friends in the school parking lot. Correct?" "Yeah, I did," Hubbard repeated. "And wasn't that the same claim you made at the school board meeting, when this incident was discussed there?" Mr. Gouldin pressed. "Yeah," Hubbard agreed, but he was beginning to look a little uncomfortable and uncertain now. "And didn't that prove to be a lie then?" Mr. Gouldin asked. "No!" Hubbard stated, very loudly and defiantly. "Excuse me, but I have copies of the board minutes and statements from several people who testified at that meeting," Mr. Gouldin announced, to the prosecutions chagrin. "Objection, your honor," Mr. Osgood protested. "Hearsay." "Objection sustained," the judge ruled. Mr. Gouldin contemplated how he wanted to proceed next, to get around this. "Isn't it true that Miss Sara Parker and Miss Jodi Langley both testified in front of the school board that…" "Objection, your honor," Mr. Osgood interrupted again. "This is still hearsay." "Sidebar, your honor," Mr. Gouldin countered. "Approach," the judge responded, simply. "Your honor," Mr. Gouldin began, once both he and Mr. Osgood stood before the bench and out of earshot of everyone else. "Each of these people are available and willing to testify, if I'm forced to call them as rebuttal witnesses. However, I believe it would save us all time and not inconvenience them if the court would allow us to impeach Mr. Hubbard's testimony using statements these witnesses made to the school board and have sworn to in these affidavits," he announced, while handing the said documents to the judge. "Let me look these over," the judge stated, as Mr. Gouldin released the forms to him. The judge scanned them quickly and then commented. "Mr. Gouldin, you are positive these witnesses are available and willing to testify to the same information?" "Absolutely," he agreed. "I think the affidavits signed in support of their testimony before the school board proves that." The judge thought for a moment and then spoke. "Both of you step back please." He waited for the attorneys to step away from the bench and then ruled. "Objection overruled," he announced, so our attorney moved into position to ask his next question. "As I was saying, isn't it true that Miss Sara Parker and Miss Jodi Langley both testified in front of the school board that they overheard you making plans to attack Shannon McCarthy earlier in the day? They even went as far as to state they knew you were planning to offer him a ride home, so you could get him alone and beat him up? Isn't that correct?" David was turning beet red now. "Well, isn't it?" Mr. Gouldin persisted. "That's what those two said," Hubbard reluctantly admitted. "And didn't they also say that you and your friends went directly up to Shannon McCarthy and started pushing him around and calling him names, before he even saw or spoke to you?" our lawyer continued. The veins in Hubbard's neck were beginning to stick out now. "Yeah, but they were lying," he screamed, hostilely. "And that you threw the first punch?" Mr. Gouldin pressed, but David didn't respond. "And that your nose got broken after one of the boys blocked your punch and threw one of his own," our attorney went on. "Isn't that how your nose got broken, when one of the boys tried to defend himself?" "It wasn't one of the fags who broke my nose," Hubbard spat out, defiantly. "It was one of their straight brothers. No queer could take me in a fight." Hubbard's father groaned after he heard his son say this and lowered his head. He knew David had just lost most, if not all, of the sympathy points he had earned earlier with the jury. "Ah, so it's not these boys who hate or are out to get you," our attorney insisted, "but you who hate and despise them, because you suspect some of them are either gay or bi-sexual?" There was no response. "Maybe you didn't hear or understand my question?" Mr. Gouldin continued. "I will rephrase it then. Isn't it true that you are the only one who carried this grudge forward, because you suspect some of these boys are either gay or bi-sexual?" Again there was no response. "Your Honor, will you please direct the witness to answer my question," Mr. Gouldin pleaded. "Young man, will you please answer the defense attorney's question." "Yeah, I don't like them," he finally admitted. "And that would be primarily because of their suspected sexual orientation?" Mr. Gouldin persisted. "Okay, I don't like fags and fudge packers, especially when they come on to me!" Hubbard exclaimed and Mr. Gouldin looked pleased by his response. On the other hand, Hubbard's father winced, upset by his son's seeming inability to hide his bigoted nature. "Very colorfully put," Mr. Gouldin commented. "However, isn't it true that you've had run-ins with others and these boys and their brothers are not the only ones you've had fights or disputes with?" "Maybe," Hubbard replied, softly. "Would that be a 'yes' response?" Mr. Gouldin pushed. "I guess so," Hubbard stated, "So there are others out there who have just as big or bigger motives to get even with you for other incidents?" "I dunno. I guess," he replied. "Yes, I bet you do and I think that's what you, the police and the acting D.A. did here," Mr. Gouldin suggested, "guessed that my clients did the attacking." "Objection, your honor," Mr. Osgood said, forcefully, while jumping to his feet. "Sustained," the judge agreed. "I have no further questions for this witness, your honor," Mr. Gouldin quickly announced, pleased that he had allowed the jury to see the victim's true nature. David now began to move his wheelchair by himself, ineptly directing it away from where he sat next to the witness stand. Slowly, he was making his way toward the rear of the courtroom, but hadn't gone very far before his father came forward to assist him. As he pushed his son past the defense table, they both glared at the four boys and then took seats at the rear of the chamber. "I think this would be a good point to break for lunch," the judge announced. "We'll resume in one hour." He then rapped his gavel and everyone began to get up and leave. E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive' comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com - but please put the story title in the subject line, so it doesn't get deleted as junk mail.