Since the preliminary hearing, things have not improved. Our attorney has not gotten his spark back. We waited for several weeks to see what the prosecutor would offer George. Eventually, he came back with a terrible deal: Plead guilty and receive between 4 and 15 years of prison time. 4 to 15 years for a crime he did not commit? What kind of deal is that?! Especially considering the extreme likelihood that the small town DA will milk this for all it's worth to bag a supposed criminal and get a gold star and a pat on the back - meaning George was looking at more like 15 than 4. Needless to say, George rejected it outright.
Our attorney was displeased. "This is the best deal they're going to give us, you know," he told us. "I don't know if we can make it through this Walker hearing. And after that, they'll go for the full two counts of 25 to life all over again." We tried to reason with him; we have so much material to work with! The police did so many things wrong - from your basic failing to read Miranda rights, to offering a deal of leniency, to intimidation and threats of imprisonment, even dictating what he should say - all to a man who we can prove has a psychological tendency to buckle under pressure and comply out of fear. How in the world would this thing stand? How could any person in their right mind believe that this was a legit confession? How can the police get away with doing this to a disabled guy and somehow call it a win?
Politics, said his attorney. It all boils down to politics. "You know, you got this old judge - he's been doing this for 99 years or whatever," he said, "he's about to retire, he's probably friends with all the cops. You really think he's going to want to retire thinking he's angered the cops and seen as letting a criminal go? Plus," he added, "it's a redneck town over there. These people aren't going to look favorably on you."
It's the perfect storm. The unimaginable made probable because of nothing more than small town injustice.
Just yesterday we trudged into the courtroom again, this time to formally reject the prosecutor's ridiculous plea offer. This time, a real, bonafide CSC case was heard just before our own. A man in his 30's or thereabouts, had had an ongoing thing with a little girl. We watched as he plead to a deal all too similar to what the prosecutor had offered George. We watched as a broken mother stood, afterward, and read the most heart-wrenching closing statements I have ever heard, clutching a notepad and shaking with tears. "My daughter trusted you!" she wept. "She just wants to know why you did this to her!"
Across the audience, I fought tears and thought back to what it was like to be a child growing up with the horrors of sexual abuse. I remembered the terror, the pain, the isolation. I remembered the shame and helplessness. The woman cried that her daughter had forgiven, but the pain may never go away. I nodded my head silently. She's right. The pain never goes away.
I clutched George's hand and squeezed. If I thought for half a second that he was like that...like them...those who would rob a young girl of her innocence...if I thought he was one of them, I would have left him to rot. I would have had many furious words for him, thrown the ring at him, and gone back home to Texas with no hesitation. When this case began, I made every effort to take off the rose colored glasses of romance and make a smart decision. I wasn't going to have the wool pulled over my eyes! All too quickly, the accuser's lies and manipulation surfaced like oil sludge on a tainted ocean. All too quickly, George's honesty, his alibi, his evidence came forth in abundance. I have no regrets. My stance remains firm. I will fight until the very end for him.
Presently, the sound of handcuffs yanked me from my thoughts. "Chill out there, Robocop," the convicted sex offender said with a smirk, and strutted his way out of the courtroom - and tossed back a final "I love you" to his girlfriend just before the doors swung shut. She broke down and sobbed. Our lawyer stood up and heaved a sigh.
Am I going to be where that woman sat - am I going to weep for an innocent man?
The prosecutor was furious when George rejected the plea. A small town reporter strolled up to him and asked, "So how's the case?" He puffed up. "I think I got it going pretty well," he said proudly. It was done and over with in just a few minutes. We trudged home with a tentative plan from the attorney as to what to do next, and three new court dates set. I spent the rest of the day feeling broken, wondering what next.
But when it rains, of course, it always pours.
We just received another call from our attorney. Suddenly, now that the case is lurching forward with no possibility of further plea offers, he is upset that George didn't just plead guilty to the crime he never committed - and he wants money. Lots of money.
Quite in fact, he wants me to raise $5,000 in about three weeks. "Nothing personal," he assured us, "just strictly business. I'm clocking in a lot of hours..."
Yeah. So are we. Let us know when you find a winning lottery ticket! In the meantime, we have been clinging to each other losing our minds and wracking our brains. What now? What happens if the attorney just up and quits? We thought we had a contract, a payment plan, everything taken care of! Now this!
Of all times to yank the rug out from under us.
Whatever happens, I will never stop fighting for you, George. I just wish I knew how.
No comments:
Post a Comment