AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And did you ever hear Mrs. Jacobson talk about harming or killing her husband?”
“No. Well, only in a joking kind of way.”
“Please tell the Court the joking kind of way—as you put it—you heard the defendant talk about harming her husband.”
“Well, she said she wanted to suffocate him in his sleep with a pillow.”
The prosecutor follows with, “And do you think she is capable of suffocating her husband?”
“No, I do not,” the neighbor says.
“And what did Mrs. Jacobsen say to you on the morning of October 18th when she came to your door?”
The witness then begins to cry. It is pretty convincing, but it looks fake to me. I’ve fake cried many times in my life, and she’s even better
at it than I am. She recounts how her friend burst into her kitchen, sobbing, and said, “I did it. Oh, Jean, I did it. I can’t believe it; I snapped. I’m in trouble.”
The prosecution looks over at us, the jury, to see if we are seeing what she’s seeing. Oh yeah, we’re seeing it. We’re seeing a big fat liar give an Oscar-worthy performance right now.
Several of the jurors around me shift in their seats. One or two can be heard sniffling. I can’t believe they’re buying this.
Later, things get more intense when the prosecution brings out the crime scene photos. As crimes go, it’s not the most gruesome, I suppose. But still, nothing prepared me for how shocked and unsettled I am seeing pictures of actual death. I’ve only ever been in the presence of the dead while at a funeral. And I’ve seen plenty of death while watching crime documentaries. This feels different. Even though suffocation by pillow seems like a no-mess kind of killing, the images of that face leave me shaken.
After the two witnesses’ testimonies, we recess to the jury room and the bailiff takes our orders for lunch. I’m ravenous, but when I look over the menu of the sandwich place everyone else has agreed to, I see there’s not much for me to eat. I don’t know what I want to order, but I’ll try to deal with it.
“I’ll just have a veggie sandwich, no cheese,” I say.
For the first time all day, Sam pipes up. “You need protein.”
“It’s fine, Sam,” I say.
“Come on, look at her. She eats like a bird anyway,” says Juror Number Seven. Juror Number 7 is kind of a dick.
I can almost feel the solar flares of hot anger spiking off of Sam when he replies in a calm voice that sounds like he could do some real damage with those fists if he wanted to.
“Don’t comment on her or anyone else’s appearance again. And what she eats is none of your friggin’ business.”
My stomach feels like it’s on a roller coaster ride. And it’s not finished because Sam now turns to the bailiff. “Can you please go and get her a proper hot meal from that vegan place? It’s not far from here.”
“Fine,” says the bailiff, readying his phone to tap in the order. People quietly grumble about how lunch is going to take even longer to arrive. “Split pea soup with cashew cream and avocado chocolate pudding.”
I turn to look at him, shocked. He remembered.
“And if anyone has a problem with that, we can step outside.”
I follow his gaze to Juror Number 7, who is shooting us both with lasers coming out of his eyes.
It’s so stupid that now is when I start to cry, but I can’t stop it. My eyes leak; it’s out of my control.
“Is that… is that not what you wanted?”
He can’t honestly be asking me this right now. My crying turns to laughter. I have no words.
When the food arrives, I devour everything in a few hot minutes. It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in months.
When I finish, I look up and see that Sam has barely touched his food because he’s been watching me eat the whole time.
“Good?” he asks. I nod. His mustache twitches; I think he might be smiling. Yes, it’s a smile.
