I think about Hank often, most every day. About how it must feel to be twenty two with your future in the hands of a jury not yet chosen. In my mind, I see him sitting in solitary drawing the pictures that adorn his letters to friends and family while his beard grows. I'm sure he replays the night that got him there and wonders "what if" he hadn't pulled that trigger. Sometimes when I walk by the break room I spot his Mama in there with her pen and paper writing one of her encouraging letters to him. It breaks my heart.
The whole thing started at a party, of course. Plenty of booze and drugs fueled the emotions of those who who were there, including the one who was always looking for trouble...Sammy. He had a reputation for being obnoxious and trying to start things wherever he went, sober or straight. Someone had stolen Hank's radio from the truck that night, and he was mighty mad about it. When he went back to confront the group, they beat the crap out of him. With his head gaping open and covered with blood, he got in his truck to get the hell out of there. About five minutes down the road, he realized he couldn't drive in this condition so he headed back to pick up the friends that had accompanied him to the party. Maybe they would get him somewhere to get medical attention. He pulled into the driveway, headlights dancing on the dark house. Afraid to go back in, he honked for his buddies to come out. If only he had know they had gotten scared and run, maybe it wouldn't have happened the way it did. Sammy came out of the house ready to pound him some more and he pulled out the gun that he always kept in the truck for hunting and target practice. As Sammy approached him, he pulled the trigger. And again. And again. And then he got in his truck and ran.
Sammy's friends knew that they weren't supposed to be partying at Ethan's house, so they ran as well. They took the bleeding Sammy, threw him in somebody's car and drove twelve miles to a convenience store where they called 911 to pick him up. According to folks at the hospital, it was the biggest blood bath they had ever seen in that emergency room cubicle as they worked on him. Somebody called the chopper and in no time he was in the air en route to the trauma center. Miraculously, he survived following surgery and was placed in intensive care.
The next couple of weeks was a waiting game, to see if he lived or died. Things looked good for awhile and then went south in a hurry when he got a hospital acquired infection and went into renal failure. His family finally decided to take him off of the ventilator and Hank was charged with first degree murder. He turned himself in the next day, with his father at his side. Bond was way too high for them to touch, so he began the wait for the wheels of justice to turn. His mama found a good criminal lawyer from a nearby town and paid him a fifteen thousand dollar retainer to take the case. He's going for acquittal next month.
Murder always makes the news around this small town, and everybody who heard about it said the same damn thing. "All he did was save somebody else the trouble of killing the sonofabitch." There are a lot of factors in play, not the least of which is the political future of the district attorney. Sammy's family is a vengeful bunch and they have threatened Hank's little sister to the point where she had to have a guard at work. They shot up his Daddy's shop two nights in a row. They all show up for every court appearance and intimidate Hank's family with gestures and their sheer presence. Hank has been instructed to keep his eyes on the judge when he enters the courtroom and never waver. Meanwhile, his beard continues to grow and he eats bologna three times a day in the solitude of maximum security. And he reads and writes. And thinks....about what if.
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The trial lasted only two days with jury selection gobbling up twenty five percent of their two days in court. Sammy's family and friends filled their side of the tiny courtroom to capacity looking for justice. On the left, Hank's row consisted of his grandparents. His parents and sister were witnesses for the defense and could not be witness to the testimony of others. Instead, they paced the halls and took scant comfort in the police escorts from here to there. Prosecution had a non-existant case for first degree. The DA knew that from the get go, and had put that charge in place just to appease Sammy's family and feed the media. Much easier to ask forgiveness than permission, dontcha know.
None of the stories from the scene came close to matching, probably due to the alcohol and drugs involved. The one guy, Chuck, who probably saw most of it got a subpeoena from the DA's office but was never called as a witness. His testimony was deemed not-too-much as a plus for the prosecution. The defense was quick to point that out during their half day of testimony. I got wanded in while the jury was out and found my way to Hank's mom who was seated right across from him in the front row. He looked good...a bit chunky from eating sweets to augment the bologna, but basically happy to be out in the world and talkin' to folks after six months in solitary.
I figured the jury would be out a long time so I went on home. They came back five minutes later with a verdict of voluntary manslaughter. Sentencing is next month. The rest is up to Hank.
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Juries often don't deliver a verdict that pleases everyone. Sammy's family was hell bent on a first degree murder conviction and mighty sore that the jury saw fit to listen to both sides. They got to vent at the sentencing, thanks to the opinion of the judge and DA that they'd been robbed of a second degree. Sammy's aunt was the star witness with reams of poster boards showing every certificate of achievement that he'd ever been graced with. I'm supposing that she did the dirty work for her sister, Sammy's mom. After all, mom didn't have a master's degree and all. Auntie twirled and swirled and gave graphic descriptions of Sammy's intestines falling out during the last days of his hospital acquired infection before they made the decision to remove life support. I hear that she and the DA will take their show on the road sometime in the near future. Perhaps they will write a book about what a fine young man Sammy was before somebody gave him what he'd been beggin' for all along.
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Hank's mama got the call during a breakfast break at her hospital job. Her hubby Willie broke the news that Hank had been transported during the pre-dawn hours for processing into the penal system. It's all top secret and cloak and dagger to prevent ambush by rednecks who don't have it in 'em to see the other side of the story. He'll spend thirty days at a "processing" facility where they'll ease him into prison life so he can pay for his crime one day at a time at the taxpayer's expense. Not long after his mama's call, I got one too. Mine was from Babygirl, weeping and hysterical that her Daddy got four more months in county for something he didn't do.
The wheels of justice turn slowly. Or sometimes not at all.
How many times do we hear of stories like this...I truly feel sorry for Hank. It doesn't justify that he killed a man but sometimes when pushed to the edge, we just fall over. I will not be able to get this story out of my head today. His mothers sorrow must be unimaginable, as must be Sammys mothers.
Posted by: TSB | November 21, 2005 at 08:10 AM
I used to know someone who committed murder, who was pushed over the edge by a violent husband who beat her and terrorized her family. She did her time and got out early for good behaviour. I often wonder if she is sorry she did it.
Posted by: kenju | November 21, 2005 at 09:39 PM
Wow, that is just so sad. You wrote it all very well, Poops.
I will keep everyone in my thoughts.
xoxo
Posted by: RisibleGirl | December 07, 2005 at 10:18 AM