A Boy I Once Knew

Part One – “The Trial”

 

“All rise,” booms the voice of the large blue-shirted bailiff standing towards the front of the room. “Court is now in session; the Honorable Judge Alexander Morris is presiding.”

 

There is a rush of sounds and a hush falls over the crowd as they all stand up from their seats behind the barricade. They’re all a rush of khaki and black, dressed in formal attire, all different faces and all different colors. There are men in the audience, and of these men there are fat ones whose shirts seem to be moments from bursting, and there are skinny men, some which glasses and know-it-all faces that would allow one to confuse them for a lawyer or even the judge themselves. There are women in the audience, and of these women there are the taciturn ones, who have drawing eyes showing that they are people who are ready to simply absorb what is about to happen, as if its all zero’s and one’s in a computer. There are also those women who seem to be struggling from completely bursting with laughter and high pitched squeals in their u utterly gossipy voices. Even though they will not be the one’s to judge me, I still feel their eyes burning holes through the back of my head, and my heart sinks because I know what they’re all thinking; I am a horrible women; a whore; a heifer; a disgrace to all human kind.

 

Its hard not to allow the urge to turn around and look at them as they all stand there behind me, inches from touching me, the small Asian woman whose face has been on the news throughout the entire country. The woman who could, in just a few weeks, face the reality of never seeing the light of day ever again. They all think that I’m disgusting, and that I am the most horrible abomination ever to touch the hallowed soil of the “Land of the Free.”

 

America.

 

Then, I use all of my might, tired as I am, to push to the back of the mind that there is also a jury here; a small group of people I’ve never met in my entire life who will decide if I am to walk free or if I am to spend time behind the stale metallic bars of some prison somewhere. If the latter; then it will be up to this man, who I also have never seen in my life, Alexander Morris, to decide exactly how long I’m going to spend in there. Perhaps the rest of my life...

 

As my mind runs over the charges that I’m facing... there’s also a nagging shadow nudging me in the shoulder whispering in my ear another possible reality more horrible than spending my life in prison; it whispers the reality that may await me being not spending life anywhere at all. You can’t really do those kinds of thing when you’re dead...

 

There are other people behind me as well, in the audience. My friends. My family. People who love me and people who hate me, all sitting back there watching as if this courtroom scene is some freakish reality television show.

 

They’re all judging me already and the trial hasn’t even begun ... how am I to get out of this alive? How did I get here anyway? Is any of this real? Am I about to wake up?

 

The Judge emerged from his chambers, a short balding Caucasian man with a lot of facial hair. He looked tired, as if he had been napping behind that brown ominous door. He took his seat and nodded at the Bailiff who handed him a stack of papers.

 

“You may be seated,” the officer told everyone, and we all took our places in our wooden seats once again. My heart was ready to jump out of my chest already as soon as I saw the look on the judge’s face. “Your Honor this is case number five hundred seventeen, the State of Pennsylvania versus Hikari Kamiya ...”

 

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said to the judge because I was busy trying to absorb the whole scene. The court room was fairly large and had been recently renovated. It featured a domelike architecture, white walls, highly polish wooden floors, and a few circular windows along the walls. It was too clean and smelled of harsh antiseptic which burned my nose as I forced myself to breathe in.

 

My ears were ringing.

 

How the hell did I get here? How did that little kid Kari from Japan end up a full grown adult in a courtroom in America in what was, according to the media, supposed to be one of the largest cases of twenty-first century America. I still couldn’t remember how I had gotten here...

 

‘You don’t remember how you got here you say?’ a small devilish voice in the back of my mind jeered. ‘Or is it just that you don’t WANT to remember? Huh Mrs. Kamiya? I remember Kari ... I remember ...’

 

I gave myself a little mental shake and brought myself back to the courtroom, and opened my eyes. I must have been daydreaming longer that I thought because already, one of the prosecutors, a burly black man in a pinstriped black suit, was at the front of t he courtroom giving a lecture. The opening argument.

 

“...and we the prosecution on behalf of this state, and moreover this COUNTRY,” he said with immense vocal projection which boomed and echoed in the still and quiet courtroom. “...without a reasonable doubt that Mrs. Kamiya did in fact commit the crimes that have been brought here today, in the glory of our lord God, in the land of the free and the home of the brave. In our Declaration of Independence written centuries ago, our forefathers scribed – in one of the very first passages for the love of God – said it best: ‘When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

 

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are LIFE!, LIBERTY! and’ most importantly ladies and gentlemen: ‘the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed!’ It’s right there on the parchment people, in black and white the very basis upon which our society is based and furnished! Now I don’t know if the people of the Land of the Rising Sun promote these values – which I sincerely would be shocked to find that they do not, but HERE in THIS country, we DO. Mrs. Kamiya here, ladies and gentlemen has, in her short stay here in America, completely ROCKED the very foundation upon which those scruples, and this nation STANDS! She has rocked the very foundation upon which this WORLD stands, and she has rocked the very foundation upon which HUMANITY stands!

 

“To acquit Mrs. Kamiya from what she has done, would be a grave mistake, as we will prove during the weeks to come. Thanks to Mrs. Kamiya, there are several young men who have had their lives and reputations ruined, and another young man whom will NEVER have the opportunity to enjoy those endowed rights, though he was not a citizen of this great nation, ever again ...”

 

That last bit made my stomach churn, and my nostrils flare. How dare he say such a thing about...

 

But then time had raced away from me again, and a day had passed by. Once again I was back in the courtroom adorning the same orange jumpsuit as the normal part of the trial began. I don’t quite know where the time had gone... I had lost the concepts of minutes, hours, and so forth when I had lost Him. I lost everything that was worth holding on to.

 

The prosecutor who had cited from the Declaration of Independence the other day was back again, ready to call  witnesses to the stand. He wasted no time.

 

“Your Honor,” he sighed. “The State would like to call Hikari Kamiya to the stand ...”

 

Again I lost the time in my mental stumper and in the time that I blinked, I was in the stand facing the faces of the jury and the audience. The court stenographer tapped the keys of her laptop annoyingly and I also noticed the court artist as he started another picture, anxious to get the picture of me on the stand started for the media and court records.

 

Someone coughed in the distance.

 

Clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop

 

The prosecutor walked over to me, his polished black dress shoes clicking irritatingly against the wooden floorboards. The Bailiff walked over to me with a black book in his hands, and held it out towards me. I rested my hand on the surface.

 

“The other one,” someone whispered to me. I didn’t know or care who. I simply put my right hand where my left had been and listened to the officer’s downing voice.

 

“Mrs. Kamiya,” he addressed. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

 

“Yeah,” I said lazily resisting the urge to add ‘whatever’ afterwards. He nodded curtly and walked away just as Stripe-Suit cleared his throat indicating that he was about to speak.

 

“Are you Hikari Kamiya?” he said simply, and I winced. What kind of question was that?

 

“Yes,” I said simply.

 

“How old are you Mrs. Kamiya?”

 

“Thirty-One.”

 

“Where do you live Mrs. Kamiya?”

 

“Presently?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Camden, New Jersey.”

 

“You are not a natural citizen of the United States of America; is that correct?”

 

“Yes it is.”

 

“And where did you live before that?”

 

“Odaiba, Japan.”

 

“And how long have you been a citizen in the United States?”

 

“Two or three years I guess...”

 

“Was it one year or two years Mrs. Kamiya?”

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

“Please answer the question Mrs. Kamiya.”

 

“Um ... approximately two and a half years.”

 

“Thank you Mrs. Kamiya. Why did move all the way here, over three thousand miles, to America, two and a half years ago?”

 

“I moved here to teach.”

 

Murmers in the courtoom. A banging of the judges gavel followed.

 

“Order! Order in the court or I will clear this room!” Judge Morris roared. Silence again.

 

“Right then,” the prosecutor said, smirking. “You came here to teach ... well, Mrs. Kamiya, why exactly did you decide to teach in America rather than in your home of Japan?”

 

“Objection your honor,” one of my lawyers sighed from the table. “I don’t see how this is relevant to the case.”

 

The Judge raised an eyebrow.

 

“I will allow this line of questioning ... objection sustained,” he said. “Continue Mr. Williams.”

 

“I thought that children would need my help more here,” I said simply. There was another small murmur and the Judge gave everyone a dirty look to silence them. “After researching the various education system in the world I came to the conclusion that a well qualified educator was needed here in America rather than in Japan or Britain, or any other place.”

 

“Right then... right then,” Stripe-Suit, apparently the man Morris had named Mr. Williams, said pacing back and forth a few feet, his heels clicking again, which irked me vehemently. Then he threw me a curveball. “And, is it true, Mrs. Kamiya that you intentionally collaborated in the murdering of a Mr. Takeru Takaishi?”

 

“OBJECTION!” my entire defense team practically screamed jumping out of their seats, their chairs almost falling over.

 

“ORDER!” The Judge roared for a third time. “Or I will hold you in contempt and clear this courtroom!”

 

“No,” I said quietly shaking my head. I didn’t feel angry, I just felt as if I had to let them know what really happened even if they did not believe me. “I did not premeditatedly murder or participate in the murder of TK. I loved TK with all of my heart Mr. Williams, and when you love someone... well you usually don’t plot to murder them.”

 

I shrugged.

 

“But you do confirm that you directly contributed to his death?” Mr. Williams said. “And please sit down Mr. White.”

 

Looking defeated, and angry at me, my defense team sank back down to their seats. Of course, they cared only about the money, and would be very upset if I lost the case, but ... in all honesty I don’t know if I really cared if I walked out of this courtroom a free woman or not. Nothing mattered anymore... it was all numb.

 

“Yes,” I sighed. “I ... I did kill him Mr. White. I do not deny that fact, but I would also like to reiterate that it was not intentional; that the loss of Mr. Takaishi has ... has made life meaningless for me; that I cry everyday when the sun comes up, every night when the sun goes down, and a lot more in between; that the torrent of rage, frustration, and utter misery that flows through my mind every single second and nanosecond further amplifies the endless void in my heart. I want to die...”

 

Mr. Williams raised an eyebrow. I knew he didn’t care about how sad I felt, but the court stenographer punched in every word without hesitation, and that’s all I cared about. My fate was meaningless, but the truth still mattered. I would not lie.

 

“Your honor,” Mr. Williams sighed. “If the court would allow it, I would like to hear Mrs. Kamiya’s version of the story from beginning to end, and I would like this to be submitted as evidence on the record.”

 

Judge Morris nodded.

 

“Proceed Mrs. Kamiya.”

 

I almost smiled. Finally, after all the weeks of cameras and malicious articles in the periodicals nationwide, I finally had my opportunity. This was probably my one and only chance to tell, not just the court, but the entire country and the entire world what really happened. This was my chance to tell my story, so that, even if nobody believed me, the truth would still exist out there somewhere ... even if it would not save me from a guilty verdict.

 

“Thank you, you’re honor,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Well ... I guess to tell it right, I have to start from the beginning. Er... okay... well ... it all started ... almost twenty-two years ago back in Japan ...”

Notorious: Woah O_o that’s quite an intro ... gives out one of those “what the hell?” kind of feels, doesn’t it?

 

Producer: ....

 

*SMACK!*

 

Notorious: What the O_O;;

 

Producer: TK’s DEAD!? How COULD you you bastard!?

 

Questions? Comments? Angry flames for me killing TK? Send your e-mails to me at majin_noto@hotmail.com! Send comments to the DHZ too, or I’ll come lynch you.