Post by David Atkins on Dec 6, 2005 3:50:10 GMT -5
Jon Roth was an ugly little man with pale skin, gray hair, gray eyes, and a dumpy gray suit to match. He was also the assistant D.A., a man looking to make a name for himself by putting a certain Anthony Coffman-- the 'man' whom 'allegedly' shot Travis King-- behind bars.
And, to make matters worse for the kid, he'd never lost a case. Not a high profile one, anyway. He was just that good.
"Do you swear to tell the truth..."
Travis wasn't listening as the voice droned on, swearing him in as he stared, hard, at both Jon Roth and Anthony. He didn't understand these people. Why would Anthony go and do a stupid thing like turning himself in? And why would Jon Roth be gunning so hard to nail the kid? Aside from the fact it'd put his name in the press, giving him some much desired exposure... well, Travis thought with more than a bit of cynicism, D.A. probably looked a whole lot nicer on one's door than ASST. D.A.
Or however the fuck they labeled it.
"...so help you God?"
"Yeah, sure." Travis responded. Silence. Then he added, "I do."
"Mr. King," Roth started in almost immediately. "The court is already aware of your previous statements to the police, about not having any definite memory of the night you were shot. But if you would be so kind, would you care to elaborate on your relationship with the acc-"
"Hey, motormouth!" Travis snapped. "Jesus, you talk a lot."
His unexpected rudeness, Travis was happy to note, had Roth a bit off balance. The man paled, his eyes wide, then looked to the judge. "Your honor--"
"The witness will refrain--"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be nice or be held in contempt." Travis interrupted. Contemptuously. "I just thought Johnny boy here might be interested in the fact that he's been misinformed. I do have a little memory of that night."
"That's not what you told the po--" Jon Roth began.
"Nope. It's not. But it's been coming back to me a little bit at a time. A flicker here, a flicker there."
There was a great deal of commotion running throughout the courtroom, and Jon Roth was genuinely taken aback. But only for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed, calculating.
"All right, Mr. King. Let me ask you this question, then; is the man who shot you in the court room today?"
Travis glanced around, taking in the jury, the judge, and everybody else before his eyes met Anthony's. The kid held his eyes for only a few seconds before dropping his gaze. Shrugging, Travis leaned forward to make sure his response was picked up clearly by the microphone. "No."
Outraged, Jon Roth took a step forward, then looked again up at the judge. "Let the witness be reminded that he is under oath."
"Hey!" Travis growled. "It's not my fault you got the wrong guy. This kid... his hair's dark. I remember blond. And he's too tall."
"Y'know, come to think of it, it might have been a midget." Travis grinned suddenly and snapped his fingers. "Yeah! I remember now! It was a blond midget in an nWo t-shirt!"
"Bailiff!"
Travis didn't fight back-- though he easily could have, considering he had an easy hundred or so pounds on the guy-- as he was hauled away from the witness stand and dragged out the door on the side. He twisted his head to yell back over his shoulder just before the door was shut.
"The little people are out to get me!"
And, to make matters worse for the kid, he'd never lost a case. Not a high profile one, anyway. He was just that good.
"Do you swear to tell the truth..."
Travis wasn't listening as the voice droned on, swearing him in as he stared, hard, at both Jon Roth and Anthony. He didn't understand these people. Why would Anthony go and do a stupid thing like turning himself in? And why would Jon Roth be gunning so hard to nail the kid? Aside from the fact it'd put his name in the press, giving him some much desired exposure... well, Travis thought with more than a bit of cynicism, D.A. probably looked a whole lot nicer on one's door than ASST. D.A.
Or however the fuck they labeled it.
"...so help you God?"
"Yeah, sure." Travis responded. Silence. Then he added, "I do."
"Mr. King," Roth started in almost immediately. "The court is already aware of your previous statements to the police, about not having any definite memory of the night you were shot. But if you would be so kind, would you care to elaborate on your relationship with the acc-"
"Hey, motormouth!" Travis snapped. "Jesus, you talk a lot."
His unexpected rudeness, Travis was happy to note, had Roth a bit off balance. The man paled, his eyes wide, then looked to the judge. "Your honor--"
"The witness will refrain--"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be nice or be held in contempt." Travis interrupted. Contemptuously. "I just thought Johnny boy here might be interested in the fact that he's been misinformed. I do have a little memory of that night."
"That's not what you told the po--" Jon Roth began.
"Nope. It's not. But it's been coming back to me a little bit at a time. A flicker here, a flicker there."
There was a great deal of commotion running throughout the courtroom, and Jon Roth was genuinely taken aback. But only for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed, calculating.
"All right, Mr. King. Let me ask you this question, then; is the man who shot you in the court room today?"
Travis glanced around, taking in the jury, the judge, and everybody else before his eyes met Anthony's. The kid held his eyes for only a few seconds before dropping his gaze. Shrugging, Travis leaned forward to make sure his response was picked up clearly by the microphone. "No."
Outraged, Jon Roth took a step forward, then looked again up at the judge. "Let the witness be reminded that he is under oath."
"Hey!" Travis growled. "It's not my fault you got the wrong guy. This kid... his hair's dark. I remember blond. And he's too tall."
"Y'know, come to think of it, it might have been a midget." Travis grinned suddenly and snapped his fingers. "Yeah! I remember now! It was a blond midget in an nWo t-shirt!"
"Bailiff!"
Travis didn't fight back-- though he easily could have, considering he had an easy hundred or so pounds on the guy-- as he was hauled away from the witness stand and dragged out the door on the side. He twisted his head to yell back over his shoulder just before the door was shut.
"The little people are out to get me!"