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“A few, yes,” he admitted. “But only a very few. I’ve never seen such an overwhelming majority of people come and speak for someone in my life, particularly someone they don’t really know”
“What can I say?” I said. “I inspire trust.”
But even as I said it, I couldn’t help thinking that the one person who I thought had known me best hadn’t believed me when I said I was innocent.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Megan
Even while I was in the moment, everything just felt like hazy memories. I couldn’t remember why I picked out the black pantsuit that I had stashed away in my suitcase. I had worn it only once or twice before, but my jobs had never really entailed any sort of formal office attire. I wasn’t sure a courtroom required a suit, but I decided to be safe rather than sorry.
More than anything else, I was terrified of seeing Phil. He was innocent; I now knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Not because anyone had confirmed as much to me, but because I had finally opened my eyes and started thinking for myself. Once I had cast of my own sense of self-doubt, once I had brushed off my brother’s biased opinions and once I had started to trust my own instincts, it was easy to see that Phil had been set up and I had refused to stand by him during his darkest hour.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I had dark circles under my eyes because I hadn’t been able to sleep since Phil had been arrested. My skin was deadly pale, and my expression was melancholy at best. I decided to pinch my cheeks to bring a little color to my complexion, and when that didn’t work I applied a touch of blush so that I didn’t look quite so washed out.
Once I was ready, I took a cab to the courthouse and went through security first before heading to the courtroom where Phil’s case was going to be tried. I wasn’t sure I should be referring to it as Phil’s case anymore. Using Brent’s name would have been more appropriate now. I felt a little shiver of sadness as I realized that my brother had been the mastermind behind setting up the love of my life.
I hadn’t spoken to our parents yet. They had no idea that Brent was being tried for drug dealing. They had no idea he was even into drugs that heavily. I had thought about calling them, but I couldn’t stomach the thought. I knew they would find a way to blame me, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that guilt… I had enough of my own guilt to worry about.
I had received a subpoena yesterday, and I knew I would be called onto the stand to testify. I had barely even thought about it because every time I did, my mind kept throwing up roadblocks. Was I really doing this? Was I going to give evidence that would send my brother straight to jail? Maybe that was the real reason I hadn’t told my parents. They would be furious when they found out, whether or not my evidence was the truth.
We had to wait about thirty-five minutes and then the court was called to order as the bailiff announced in the judge. Judge Emerson Halstead was an impressive-looking man in his late fifties. He still had a full head of hair that was a downy snow-white. He had twinkly blue eyes and an expression that brooked no nonsense. I tensed as we were allowed to sit down and held my breath, waiting for the proceedings to start.
First, Phil was called onto the stand. The defense was trying to build the case that Brent was a pawn in Phil’s drug dealings. I knew that it was all just smoke and mirrors, though. Officer Manolo had told me as much. They had enough evidence to support the fact that it was Brent dealing this whole time and he had tried to set Phil up when his deals had started going sour. Brent’s lawyer was a run of the mill defense attorney that had been assigned to him through the court system, and as I looked towards the balding, middle-aged man, I could tell from his expression that he knew he had already lost.
Next to him sat my brother. Brent was dressed well, but he looked angry—and I realized that he looked guilty, as well. I was grateful that he didn’t glance in my direction. It was so strange seeing him like that, and even though I felt a certain amount of pity for him, my heart had been hardened by how he had tre
ated Phil and how he had turned me against him.
When Phil was called onto the stand, I glanced at him cautiously. He was dressed in trousers and a button-down white shirt, and he looked every bit the respectable, law-abiding citizen that he was. He placed his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Then he sat down and waited to be grilled.
“Your brother is in jail?” the defense attorney asked, walking up to him. “Am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“For drug dealing,” Phil replied, without missing a beat.
“I see it runs in the family—”
“Objection!” Phil’s lawyer said, jumping to his feet.
“Sustained,” the judge said, giving the defense attorney a stern look.
“Did you ever see your brother dealing drugs?” the defense attorney asked.
“I had no idea he was still dealing,” Phil replied.
“Still?”
“He was involved with drugs when we were teenagers,” Phil replied. “But I thought he had moved on from that life. I was certain of it. I knew he smoked up a little himself and because of that I kept my distance from him…because that was not the life I wanted for myself. I had no idea he was dealing, though.”
“How did you meet Brent?”
“We met through a mutual friend,” Phil replied. “Harvey Samson.”
“Harvey Samson has been taken into custody for drug possession. Are you aware of that?”
