In Defense of Guilt Page 19

  “How confident are you, Ms. Hill, that tonight’s verdict will exonerate your client?”

  “Mr. Maze, are you glad the trial is over? Do you have anything to say to the press, Mr. Maze, since you didn’t take the stand on your own behalf?” The question struck a nerve, reverberating in his head, playing over and over as the camera bulbs flashed around him. Then came the question everyone wanted the answer to.

  “Did you do it, Mr. Maze?”

  Maze froze. Lauren, seeing her client in obvious distress and unable to deflect the constant badgering, took Maze by the hand and squeezed tight. Then, lowering her head like a raging bull, she stepped out of the vehicle and plowed her way up the steps through the throngs of salivating humanity. Dutifully, the reporters followed after, calling to Maze, trying desperately to get him to break.

  Granted, Maze had been angry with his counsel on several occasions throughout the proceedings, one just recently, but at that moment, Maze was thankful Lauren Hill had taken command. He felt like a fattened pig in a slaughterhouse. Following his lawyer’s lead, he too lowered his head and gratefully allowed himself to be tugged away from his would-be butchers.

  Inside the courthouse, Lauren let go of Maze’s hand and immediately sought her family. She spotted Constance and Dennis standing next to the drinking fountain. Altering her course, she made a beeline toward them, telling Maze to stay close. She wasn’t about to let him out of her sight.

  Constance immediately felt leery around Maze; after all, he was an accused murderer, and she had seen him not that long ago with blood pouring from his head. He gave her the creeps. She looked away, not allowing herself to make eye contact. Uncomfortably, she shuffled her feet.

  “You’d better go in and grab a seat,” Lauren suggested. “They go pretty fast, even at this time of day.”

  Bradley and his team were making their way down the long hallway toward the courtroom. Hearing the familiar sound of Lauren’s high-heeled footsteps upon the marble floor behind him, Dillon instructed his colleagues to make their presence known without him and turned toward her. Patiently, he waited for Lauren’s family to vacate the area before suavely making his move. “Hello there, Counselor,” he smiled.

  Hearing Dillon’s voice, Constance slowed to a crawl. Dennis followed her cue. Together, they watched Lauren from a short distance, but too far away to hear.

  “Dillon, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, bristling with excitement.

  “You two go in,” she told Ryan. “I’ll be right there.”

  Reluctantly, Maze and Ryan stepped inside the courtroom alone while Lauren took Bradley aside.

  “I’ve decided not to drag it out. I’m filing for divorce tomorrow,” Bradley blurted.

  Lauren nodded, but only in understanding. Before Bradley could say another word, she jumped in. “I need to apologize to you.”

  “You? That’s a first.” Bradley snickered, then, “Seriously, what for?”

  “Listen, we should never have done what we did.”

  “But I—”

  “It was wrong,” she said, focusing upon the seven deadly sins.

  “Oh, back to the morality thing.”

  “Life matters. Love matters. And we can’t have either of those if we distract ourselves with momentary pleasure to forget the pain. I can’t tell you that you shouldn’t get a divorce, but if you haven’t confessed your mistakes and tried to love your wife more than before, then with all sincerity, I suggest you do that first, and then decide what is right for you. Okay?”

  Bradley looked down at her in astonished disbelief. He had been expecting the conversation to go very differently. He had had it all figured out. He had been certain she was going to be happy with the news and be just as eager to pursue a life together. Now he realized that it was never going to materialize. He looked up, mouth agape.

  “Now, come on, D.A., we have a verdict to be present for,” Lauren said, and briskly walked away.

  Bradley stood shamefaced. He had to have misheard her. Only those words, her gestures, and the way she turned abruptly away—it was goodbye. Had to be. No other explanation. Crushed wasn’t the word for what had befallen him. His ruination was complete.

  What the hell just happened? Dillon had never felt so low. He was at a loss for words, a loss for emotions. He was devastated. Nothing left to do, he slowly turned and walked dejectedly into the courtroom.

  Lauren spotted Dennis and Constance still hanging near the outside of the main entrance. She approached her family. “I love you two.”

  “We love you too, Mom,” Constance said, hugging her mother.

  “Baby girl, do me a favor.”

  “Okay.” Constance was ready.

  “Go into the courtroom and find seats for you and your father. I have to talk to Dad for a minute.”

  Constance happily bolted toward the door. God had planted a bug in her ear. Things were going to be pleasantly different from that moment on. That brought a smile to her face. All children want the same basic thing: a family who loves them. Constance was no different. If her mother was willing to change, Constance was willing to forget about her infidelity.

  Because of time constraints, Lauren turned to Dennis. Looking into his eyes, she got straight to the point. “Now, I haven’t always been the best wife, or the best mother, for that matter.”

  “You can’t say that. You’ve been under tremendous pressure.”

  “Let me finish, please, Dennis.” Lauren stroked his lips, a gentle, hushing action. “I guess in my own way, I believed I was trying, but I ask you to forgive me for not seeing, for not trying harder and for doing things that were counterproductive.” Lauren sighed. “I just want to say that I do love and appreciate you for who you are, all you’ve done, and continuing to love me through all my many faults. I’m sorry I haven’t loved you the way I should, the way you deserved, but if you’ll be patient,” she winked, “I’ll show it more. Then we’ll see how long it takes before you’ve had enough of my love and affection.”

  “That sounds like a great problem to have,” he said and gently kissed her. “I love you. Quick, you better get inside.”

  Lauren watched as the twelve members of the jury filed in and took their respective seats. As always, Lauren studied them, trying to read their facial expressions. Some were better than others at hiding how they had collectively decided. The burden seemed to weigh heavily on some, especially the younger members. That usually happened in these types of trials. A majority simply clasped their hands in front of them as if praying they had made the right decision. In the current case, Lauren couldn’t tell which way the pendulum had swung. Controlled and dignified, the twelve sat in reserved silence. She was just relieved none of them had morphed into God.

  Lauren glanced at Maze. Once again, he seemed nervous, but at least he was self-contained. He was sitting quietly, playing with his newly reattached ear. She didn’t know it, but a peculiar tingling sensation was all that reminded him of his rash decision to disfigure himself. God had proved to be a gifted physician, the consummate healer. Noticing Lauren’s stare, Maze produced a nauseatingly fake smile.

  At the prosecution’s table, Bradley was also trying to decipher the facial expressions of the jurors. Now, more than ever since his last conversation with Lauren, Dillon wanted the win—badly. He was an aggressive competitor. He couldn’t stand to lose twice in one day, both his love interest as well as the case. Suddenly, the long-anticipated moment arrived.

  “All rise,” the bailiff announced. “Honorable Susan Howell presiding.”

  Judge Howell entered, in all her flowing majesty. She seemed a great deal more tired than usual. The hour was definitely late, but Lauren could tell there was something more to it, some underlying issue.

  “Thank you. You may be seated.”

  Maze remained standing, pathetically biting his nails. If not for the gravity of the situation, it would have been comical. Judge Howell found
nothing amusing and was about ready to voice her disdain when Ryan alertly pulled him down into his chair.

  “Sit, Maze!”

  “Would the foreman please stand.”

  “Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict in this case?”

  “Yes, we have, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. Mr. Foreman, in the matter of the People vs. Martin Maze, case number LA 120-897 JP, as to count one, murder as defined by Penal Code 187, how you say?”

  A deafening silence befell the courtroom as all eyes remained on the juror. “Not guilty.”

  Gasps of disbelief resonated through the room. Shouts of both joy and outrage echoed, depending on which side of the room one was sitting. Amanda’s mother ruptured into heart-wrenching wails while her husband stood holding her in barely controlled anguish. Tears streamed down his face in shock as he pounded a clenched fist against his chair. Adding insult to injury, Maze’s few supporters, as well as Lauren’s family, cheered the decision. Anxious media in the press area bolted toward the exit, and suddenly, the courtroom was thrust into a state of semi-reserved chaos.

  Over the sound of her banging gavel, Judge Howell’s voice elevated.

  “Order. Order.”

  “Your Honor.” Bradley rose demanding to be heard. “I request to poll the jury.”

  Banging her gavel several more times, Judge Howell finally quieted the courtroom. “Very well, Mr. Bradley. You may proceed.”

  Bradley approached the jury and set his sights on Juror number one.

  “Please inform the court. How do you find the defendant?”

  Juror number One stared Bradley in the eye. “Not guilty.”

  “Juror number two?’

  “Not guilty.”

  “Number three?”

  “Not guilty.”

  A defeated Bradley turned slowly to his seat as the last juror confirmed what the jury foreman had already announced to the court.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I have nothing further.”

  Maze remained standing, in stunned silence.

  Normally, Ryan would have been ecstatic, congratulating lead counsel on a magnificent performance. But for him, the sense of victory was subdued. Although they had won, justice had not been served. He sat, arms folded across his chest. Still, he managed to shake his head and produce a strained smile. His stomach churned.

  Judge Howell sat poised, gavel in hand, raised above her head. The courtroom was quieting, except for the first row behind the prosecution’s table. For the woman who had given birth to Amanda and the rest of her family, there was neither closure nor relief. If the man her daughter married didn’t do it, and she had been struggling with the belief he had, then what had happened to her? Amanda couldn’t have taken her own life. She just couldn’t. On the day she had left on the cruise, she had seemed so happy. As much as her mother tried to regain composure, uncontrollable, involuntary sobs escaped her.

  The gavel cracked. All motion ceased. Finally, Maze heard the words every defendant in a murder trial wants to hear and certainly the ones he had waited months to hear.

  “Mr. Maze, you are free to go. This trial is adjourned. The jury is excused.”

  Maze looked up and smiled, realizing he had just been handed a new lease on life. It hadn’t been granted to him, though. With the help of Lauren Hill, he had stolen it. Be that as it may, he would no longer have to think about the senseless murder, confessing his guilt, or spending the rest of his life behind bars. He embraced the acquittal and glorious freedom.

  Maze looked across at the jury hastily filing out. One juror looked across at him, wondering if she had done the right thing. He winked and mouthed Thank you to her. Her heart sank. A nauseating feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. Saying nothing in reply, juror six quickly hurried ahead to join the others. Maze then glanced up at the bench to Judge Howell. A chill went up his spine.

  Seeing the sudden change in her client, Lauren also looked toward the bench. God, dressed in pristine white robes in all His majestic glory, glowered down at Maze. Constance gasped from the back row, but not even her father heard her over the murmurings of the crowd.

  God stood, displeased, throwing his robe to the side for effect. It billowed, fluttering to a controlled position behind Him. He only uttered one word, the contemptible name of the acquitted. “Maze.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Criminal psychologists and profilers alike have perused countless old photographs, chilling snapshots of seemingly innocent children turned ruthless criminals, hoping to gain insight as to what had taken place in their youth to foster such latent activity. Hours have been spent intently studying case files to learn the nature, the inner evils of the criminal mind. Traumatic experiences, molestation, neglect, and abuse have all played significant roles in the development of deviant behaviors later in life. While violence may be relatively easy to understand and pinpoint in some children, many other histories leave one shaking his head, wondering, “How could such an adorable, innocent child such as this, grow up to become a murderer? What happened between then and now?”

  At the moment, Maze was asking himself those very questions, replaying parts of his own misguided childhood. Sure, his father had been strict, but never had he considered his discipline abusive. Okay, so his childhood home had been unconventional and harsh at times. Whose hadn’t been? Every kid in the neighborhood had been beaten at some point. Yes, his father had been a weekend alcoholic, admittedly not the every-night-of-the-week raging drunkard many kids had to face, but from the first crack of a golden bottle of Corona after work on Friday until he staggered into bed late Sunday night, Carlos Maze had been a rip-roaring lunatic. He had been what Maze had called a “problem drinker.” When he drank, Carlos had been a problem, to himself and others around him. He had been verbally abusive to anyone who crossed him, including his quiet-as-a-church-mouse wife.

  To compensate for her husband’s lack of affection and spousal abuse, she, in turn, had taken much of her frustrations out on her children, like most mothers in town had done. It had been the norm and Maze accepted it. It had been all he ever knew, how life had been supposed to be. He had learned at a young age to stay out late and avoid his entire block until his father passed out on the couch watching light porn sometime after midnight. Yet despite the seemingly unhealthy mentality in his home growing up, Maze believed he had turned out well. He hadn’t joined any gangs, stayed away from drugs, and had a good paying job. His neighbors liked him; elders respected him. Maze truly felt as if he had arrived. That had been until the day he came home alone from his cruise. As soon as he had disembarked, rumors had started. How did everything go so horribly wrong? Maze didn’t have an answer. Tears welled.

  The gavel pounded, bringing him back to reality.

  “Stop!” Maze yelled.

  Heated comments and conversations ceased. Maze looked around the room, stopping momentarily at the key players in his recent life: Lauren, Ryan, Amanda’s parents, Bradley, Judge Howell, and, coming down from the bench, God Himself.

  Visibly shaken, Maze blurted, “I did do it! I did kill her! I killed my wife!”

  Shock and awe! Everyone in the room except Ryan and Lauren was stunned. The silence was maddening. Wanting to act, the bailiff turned and looked to Judge Howell for direction. Only the jury had already been dismissed. What could she do? The rule against double jeopardy now came into play. Maze was a free man.

  Judge Howell was beside herself. She realized that law was not an exact science. Not every criminal who came before her was convicted and sent to prison. Several, she had even released on minor technicalities. But the law was the law. As flawed as the system sometimes was, it was the way it worked. If law enforcement hadn’t conducted themselves and performed their job professionally or had obtained evidence illegally, a judge had no choice but to let the accused go free. But this? This was the first time anyone had confessed just moments after being found innocent. As she searched through papers, Maze continued.


  “I threw her overboard,” Maze bellowed. “We had a fight. She was suicidal.” The more he talked, the faster he spoke. “She accused me of not loving her, not caring about her. She was manic! I loved my wife, but I killed her. Without the grace of God,” he said, looking directly at God, “I killed her.”

  God wasn’t slowing but walked briskly toward him. Maze felt trapped, his eyes shifting back and forth. The bailiff placed his hand on the holster of his revolver. If Maze were to act, it had to be now.

  Impulsively, Maze sprang into action. The weight of guilt and shame combined into too much of a burden to handle. He felt compelled to confess his crime in front of both God and man, but he couldn’t bear to face the consequences that went along with it. All he wanted to do was to end his miserable existence and join his wife in the great beyond. But he had to act immediately.

  Lunging at the barrier separating the spectators from the trial, Maze thrust his entire weight upon it. Wood splintered with a loud snap.

  One of the columns broke off into a nearly perfect, jagged stake. Ryan dove for it, but Maze seized it first. With as much force as he could muster, Maze swung at the young attorney, slashing a considerable gash across Ryan’s right forearm. Blood immediately seeped through Ryan’s shirt as he tumbled backward, landing awkwardly on his back. Lauren rushed to his side and applied pressure, positioning herself between the junior attorney and her crazed client like a lioness protecting her cub in an unselfish act of motherly protection.

  Judge Howell, never having witnessed anything of that nature in her courtroom, stood ineffectively gaping as the scene unfolded before her. Her indecisiveness frustrated the bailiff. No longer waiting for the judge to recover, he took charge.

  “Freeze!” he said, drawing his weapon. In all his years as a bailiff, he had never had to unholster it. Its mere presence had always been enough of a deterrent.