Vigilare (17 page)

“Yes, Your Honor,” she answers, her voice breaking, giving in slightly to her nerves.

“Is this how you advocate for your client?” She motions her arm in Gina’s direction. “Allow her to walk into a courtroom with chains and shackles hanging off of her? You might as well stamp ‘guilty’ on her forehead. Either image is one in the same.”

Aubrey clears her throat, looking to Gina. Gina nods her head supportively. “If you hadn’t requested they be removed, I...I would have, Your Honor,” she replies, thinking quickly on her feet.

“Judge Carter,” the prosecutor, Mr. McVain addresses.

“Yes, Counselor,” she turns her attention to him.

“If you will read through the charges, you may reconsider uncuffing the defendant, Your Honor. She has murdered fifteen men…that we know of. In quite gruesome fashion.”

“Mr. McVain, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to make your case. And might I advise you busy yourself with your responsibility, I will tend to mine.” She smiles coyly. “I need not reconsider uncuffing the defendant. I
have
read through the charges.”

“I would not insinuate otherwise, Your Honor,” he says.

Judge Carter shakes her head, motioning to him, “Your first witness, Counselor.”

“Defense calls Gina DeLuca to the stand,” Aubrey says boldly, standing to attention.

A low rumble is heard among the room. Judge Carter is caught off guard. Gina looks to Aubrey as if to say,
It’s not your turn
. Mr. McVain chuckles, confidently.

Judge Carter softly bangs her gavel, causing the buzz in the courtroom to cease. Crossing her hands into one another, she leans forward across her desk, her expression a mixture of contempt and pity. “Ms. Raines, if you’ll follow up on your criminal court procedures, you’ll find the prosecution usually kicks off this process.” She points to Mr. McVain. “He prosecutes, you defend. Understood?”

Aubrey nods her head, dropping her chin, the blush of embarrassment fully visible on her face.

“Your first witness, Counselor,” Judge Carter repeats to Mr. McVain.

He smiles, remaining seated. “Ladies first,” he says in his most chivalrous tone. “That is, of course, if you don’t mind, Madam Judge.”

Tony rolls his eyes, fatigued by this guy already.

Judge Carter grants him a quick, less than enthused smile. She is well aware of the prowess of Counselor E. Blaine McVain, his last name superbly fitting. Handsome, keen and slick as a snake, he has all the makings for an extremely successful lawyer. His record flaunts a perfect win, to this point. “Go ahead, Ms. Raines.”

Aubrey clears her throat, standing cautiously. “Defense calls Gina DeLuca,” she says quietly, her confidence wounded.

Tony runs his hands through his hair, pressing his back against his seat, folding his arms rigidly across his chest. His leg resumes its incessant bouncing, his mouth dry as cotton as Gina approaches the bench. She takes her oath and settles into the elevated swivel chair beside Judge Maybelline Carter.

“Ms. DeLuca, please state your occupation,” Aubrey directs, standing before the witness rail. Gina eyes Aubrey, her shoulders slouched, she timidly hugs her legal file to her chest. Mindfully, Gina exaggerates her own posture, her back straight and solid as a board, her chin leveled, her ears resting anatomically correct over her shoulders. As she does so, Aubrey begins to mirror her physical presence with her own. Gina smiles at her reassuringly.

“I’m a detective with Vanguard Police Department.”

“Objection,” Mr. McVain interjects, pleased at getting one in this early in the process.

“Was,” Gina quickly corrects herself, her eyes darting in his direction, annoyed. “I was a detective with Vanguard Police Department.”

“Not just any detective,” Aubrey points out, turning to face the jury. “The most highly-decorated female detective at Vanguard PD. Ms. DeLuca was Valedictorian of her police academy. And she is the current Vanguard PD Detective of the Year, as voted by her cohorts.”

Mr. McVain smiles effectively, appropriately, a good showing as he takes notes at his desk.

Aubrey opens a file, laying it in front of Gina. “Do you recognize any of these men, Detective DeLuca?” The file contains photos of the fifteen slain men.

“Objection,” Mr. McVain bites. “Her detective status has been suspended.”

“Sustained,” Judge Carter says.

Aubrey nods.

“Yes, I recognize all of them.”

“How is that,
Ms
. DeLuca?”

“My partner and I were assigned to the case.”

“The Vigilare case,” she leads.

Gina shrugs. “If you want to call it that.”

“Let me clarify. You are being accused of killing these men. Men whom you were assigned to find justice for.” Aubrey moves away from the bench, placing herself between Gina and the jury. “Have you ever killed anyone, Detective DeLuca?”

“Objection.” Mr. McVain flippantly slaps his hand down on his desk.

“Sustained,” Judge Carter says, growing annoyed. “Ms. Raines, don’t let it happen again.”

Aubrey nods. “Let me rephrase. Have you ever killed anyone,
Ms
. DeLuca?”

“Yes,” she answers. The courtroom stirs to an audible buzz.

“In the line of duty?”

“Yes.”

“In defense of your life or the life of another?” Aubrey clarifies.

“Yes.”

She holds her index finger up in the air, accompanied by a dramatic pause. “Now, have you ever murdered anyone, Ms. DeLuca, in cold blood?”

“No,” she says. “Not to my knowledge.”

“
Ob
-jection,” Mr. McVain accentuates, holding out the syllable. “You haven’t murdered anyone,
to your knowledge
. One would think simple yes or no answers would be a breeze for such a decorated detective.”

“A simple yes or no answer will suffice,” Judge Carter directs Gina. Her attention immediately returning to Mr. McVain, “And, I’ll thank you to keep the sarcasm limited to the water cooler.”

“No, I have not murdered anyone, in cold blood,” Gina clarifies. Unable to rein in her tongue, she continues, “And one would think the inclusion of simple commentary would be a breeze for a Harvard-educated lawyer.”

The courtroom is a mixture of disgruntled mumbles and pleased chuckles, as Mr. McVain and Gina now communicate with their eyes, assisted by the most powerful communicator, their body language. Her response stirs Tony up, causing him to smile. Judge Carter launches a reprimanding glance at Gina and Mr. McVain.

“Do you believe in superheroes, Ms. DeLuca?” Aubrey quickly quells the atmosphere before Judge Carter takes the liberty.

“I guess I do,” she ponders. “Yes, I believe in superheroes,” she states, cleaning up her answer before Mr. McVain objects again. “Everyday, ordinary people. They’re superheroes.”

“Police Officers, Teachers, Firefighters, Soldiers? Ordinary people, pulling off the extraordinary,” Aubrey leads.

“Yes.”

“What about superhuman superheroes? Vigilares? Do you believe in Vigilare?”

“I have a tendency to believe what I see. I’ve never seen Vigilare.” She looks to Mr. McVain purposely, simply waiting for him to object to her circular answer. He does not.

“I believe in Vigilare,” Aubrey says. “I’ve never seen Vigilare either, but I felt her presence.”

Mr. McVain tosses his pencil down on his desk. “And I’m Superman,” he scoffs.

“Is that an objection, Mr. McVain?” Judge Carter questions.

“No, Your Honor. I am, however, curious as to when we are going to get beyond speculation to the facts.” He flips his hands through his hair ruffling the blonde locks, simultaneously swiveling in his chair addressing the jury and the courtroom at large. “I understand Ms. Raines is fresh out of law school. That’s why I granted her the privilege of going first. But, come now, I’m ready for substantiation. Some concrete evidence.”

He receives a few nods from the jury and the crowd.

“I would appreciate it if you would address me when spoken to, Mr. McVain,” Judge Carter recalls his attention. “And, Ms. Raines, I’ll thank you to think about where you’re going with your current line of questioning. Proceed.”

“There have been reports. Documented reports that you are the Vigilare. Are you Vigilare, Ms. DeLuca?” Aubrey asks, with an almost starry-eyed gleam.

Gina shuffles her bodyweight from one hip to the other in her chair. “If I am Vigilare, I have no recollection of it.”

“The fifteen men who were murdered, most likely in self-defense, as all CSI reports reflect a struggle of some sort, were convicted rapists and pedophiles. Do you believe those men deserved to die, Ms. DeLuca?”

“No. I believe they should be tried in a court of law and sentenced in accordance with the severity of their crimes. If I believed in vigilante justice, I certainly wouldn’t waste my time jumping through all the legal hoops as a detective.”

“Let the record show, my client has no memory of being Vigilare and she empathizes with the fifteen victims, believing they should have had a right to fair and just treatment in accordance with the law,” Aubrey concludes. “Thank you, Detective...Ms. DeLuca,” she quickly corrects, taking her place at the defense table.

Mr. McVain, in exaggerated fashion, pushes himself up from his chair. He removes his suit jacket, laying it nonchalantly across his desk. As if that gesture wasn’t enough to say
the gloves are off
, he continues, rolling up the sleeves of his neatly pressed, white button-down shirt, purposefully drawing out his approach to the witness chair.

Gina intuitively sinks back into her chair, propping herself against it, rather than remaining attentive. Her arms fold across her chest, displaying closed and completely disinterested body language.

“Ms. DeLuca,” he begins. “You were a detective for several years. A highly-decorated detective, as we have learned.” He extends an arm to Aubrey Raines. “What are the chances a person murders fifteen men, on fifteen different occasions, all in self-defense, without premeditation of some sort, or without intent?”

“Slim to none.”

“Is it possible the reflection of a struggle reported by CSI in each incident was not initiated by the victim? Could it be indicative of each man defending himself against the perpetrator?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“Ms. Raines made a point to acknowledge the fact that you do not recall being the
Vigilare
, who at this time is considered the primary suspect in this string of murders.” He shakes his head at the very premise of a Vigilare. “Am I correct in assuming your counsel may be headed toward a temporary insanity plea.”

“You know what they say about assuming, Mr. McVain.”

He smiles. “Yes I do, Ms. DeLuca.” Walking back to his desk, he pulls two evidence bags attached to files from his briefcase. “Therefore, I shall rely on concrete evidence.” He holds the bags up to Aubrey Raines as he passes by her desk, making a beeline for the jury, sure to drive home the point of substantiation. “So far, we’ve heard only speculation. I give you evidence. Fact.” He holds up the bag in his left hand. “Blood. A very rare and distinct blood type, matching only that of the defendant. Found at eight of the fifteen murder scenes.” His left hand returns to his side as he hoists the bag in his right hand. “Skin. A perfect match to Ms. DeLuca. Found at one of the fifteen murder scenes. Two different types of DNA on one rope used to strangle the victim to death. The skin of the victim, and the skin of one Gina Marie DeLuca.” He walks to Judge Carter, handing her the evidence bags. “Ms. DeLuca is a fan of circular answers,” he says, eyeing her. “Making two relative statements, garnishing a proposed outcome. What would you make of such evidence, Ms. DeLuca?”

She leans forward in her chair, resting her forearms on the railing separating her from Mr. McVain. “I would say, if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and looks like a duck...it must be a duck, Mr. McVain.”

He props himself against the railing, catty-corner to Gina. She does not flinch with his closeness, simply maintains eye contact. “You’re quite indifferent to this whole process aren’t you, Ms. DeLuca? Are we boring you?” He gestures to the jury and the courtroom at large. “Do you have something more important to do with your time?”

“Objection,” Aubrey Raines intercedes.

“Slay another human being, perhaps?” he asks.

“Sustained,” Judge Carter confirms.

“Who will it be this time? A rapist? A pedophile?” Mr. McVain continues, walking away from the witness chair, his hands shifting up and down alternatively symbolizing a scale, his voice on the rise and projecting to the back of the courtroom.

“Objection!” Aubrey stands.

“Sustained,” Judge Carter warns again.

“Maybe an ordinary Joe? Your brother?” He points to a juror. “Your son?” He extends his hand, making eye contact with a woman midway back in the courtroom. The place erupts at a low rumble. Tony watches, both legs nearly clearing air as they bounce feverishly off the bench beneath him, his system surging with pent-up adrenaline.

Judge Carter beats her gavel. “Counselor, one more leading statement, and I’ll have you in my chambers.”

He holds his hands up at shoulder level, a sign of retreat, returning to the space in front of the witness bench. “Ms. DeLuca, do you remember the first person you ever killed? In the line of duty?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember the second?”

She sits back in her chair, reasoning his line of questioning. “It’s not like smoking your first cigarette, or saying your first cussword. It doesn’t get any easier. Even if they are criminals.”

“A regular martyr,” he sputters. “Ms. DeLuca, do you have any children?”

“No, I do not.”

“Any sisters?”

“No.”

“Female friends?”

“Not many.”

“Have you ever been the victim of rape or sexual assault, Ms. DeLuca?”

“No.” Growing agitated, she continues, “If you’re trying to establish a motive, you’re wasting your time, Mr. McVain. I have no personal experience with rape or pedophilia. I have no reason, nothing harbored in the recesses of my being to justify taking an active stance in killing men convicted of such crimes.” She leans forward in her chair. “Now, if you want to know, am I capable of killing a rapist...a pedophile? I think we all are. If a man assaulted my body without my consent or the body of someone I loved, especially an innocent child, then yes, I’m sure I would be capable of murder. Why don’t you just ask me what you really want to ask me? Did I murder those men?” She props her hands up on the railing, one crossed into the other. “The truth is, I don’t know.”