square inch of space for the general public, save for Camilla Bartell and a handful of law students and undergrads who'd been ushered in ahead of the masses. The spaces beyond the bar were, however, empty. No briefcases or legal pads gave testament to occupation of either the defense or prosecution tables. The court reporter station stood vacant of even the stenotype machine. Of singular exception in the space was the old bailiff who somberly held his post by the far door leading to the chambers beyond.
By 9:30 AM the electricity had escalated into a near frenzy. Law students debated excitedly the possible conclusions. Reporters yammered into cell phones as they interpreted, in weighty words, the sheer sense of foreboding emanating from the silent courtroom.
At 10:05 AM the door opened and the District Attorney stepped through, closely followed by his deputy, then James Scott May and Geoffrey Bartell. A smaller door opened on the far side of the bench and a middle-aged woman hurried through clutching a stenotype under one arm. She settled in to her station, adjusted the height of her machine and then, with fingers poised on the keys, went completely still. A few moments later the chamber door opened and the bailiff bellowed, "All rise for the Honorable Grayson Lemar!"
The judge assumed his bench and looked out over the room with a sense of finality. He cited the case number and convened court with a tap of his gavel - but did not call in the jury. Instead he inclined his head at the DA, who rose and strode quickly to the bench and handed up papers. The stillness in the room was absolute as the judge perused the small sheaf. When he spoke, he addressed Geoffrey Bartell directly. Bartell and his attorney both came to their feet.
"Mr. Bartell, the prosecution has filed an information charging you with felony count of attempted suicide. You are aware of this?"
"Yes, Your Honor, I am."
"And, Mr. Bartell, you are also pleading guilty to this one-count information as you are in fact guilty of the crime charged here?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"All right. Prosecution please state the factual basis for the offense."
Alton McBride stood. "Judge, we believe that has been established by evidence as presented in this trial and believe the defense will concur." McBride turned his head to James Scott May, as did the judge.
"The defense will stipulate that factual basis for this charge has been established, Your Honor."
Judge Lemar nodded at him. "Mr. Bartell, do you agree with Mr. May on that?"
"Yes, Judge."
"All right," Lemar said, looking back at the papers in front of him. "This has been an extremely complex case and I believe the resolution presented here to be just and within the definitions of the law."
He set his hands flat atop the papers and straightened to his full height.
"The court accepts the plea of defendant Geoffrey Bartell the Third to one count of felony attempted suicide. The indictment of murder in the first degree is hereby dismissed with prejudice. Mr. Bartell, you are hereby remanded to the custody of the State Department of Law Enforcement for a period of six months. Court adjourned."
He tapped his gavel once and the room exploded into pandemonium.
As the Sheriff's Deputies approached Geoffrey Bartell he turned to face Camilla across the wooden railing. Words failed him as he fell into her eyes, which were moist yet resolute. She reached out a hand and he touched the tips of her fingers just long enough to feel the warmth of her through the lace glove before they took him by the shoulders and marched him away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FOUR MONTHS LATER...
THE aroma of coffee teased Camilla from slumber. Her eyes came gradually open as they adjusted to the dappled sunlight falling across the room. She was clutched by a moment of disorientation at the unfamiliar surroundings. Whitewashed wooden beams spanned the ceiling above her and below it a weathered turquoise-painted
By 9:30 AM the electricity had escalated into a near frenzy. Law students debated excitedly the possible conclusions. Reporters yammered into cell phones as they interpreted, in weighty words, the sheer sense of foreboding emanating from the silent courtroom.
At 10:05 AM the door opened and the District Attorney stepped through, closely followed by his deputy, then James Scott May and Geoffrey Bartell. A smaller door opened on the far side of the bench and a middle-aged woman hurried through clutching a stenotype under one arm. She settled in to her station, adjusted the height of her machine and then, with fingers poised on the keys, went completely still. A few moments later the chamber door opened and the bailiff bellowed, "All rise for the Honorable Grayson Lemar!"
The judge assumed his bench and looked out over the room with a sense of finality. He cited the case number and convened court with a tap of his gavel - but did not call in the jury. Instead he inclined his head at the DA, who rose and strode quickly to the bench and handed up papers. The stillness in the room was absolute as the judge perused the small sheaf. When he spoke, he addressed Geoffrey Bartell directly. Bartell and his attorney both came to their feet.
"Mr. Bartell, the prosecution has filed an information charging you with felony count of attempted suicide. You are aware of this?"
"Yes, Your Honor, I am."
"And, Mr. Bartell, you are also pleading guilty to this one-count information as you are in fact guilty of the crime charged here?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"All right. Prosecution please state the factual basis for the offense."
Alton McBride stood. "Judge, we believe that has been established by evidence as presented in this trial and believe the defense will concur." McBride turned his head to James Scott May, as did the judge.
"The defense will stipulate that factual basis for this charge has been established, Your Honor."
Judge Lemar nodded at him. "Mr. Bartell, do you agree with Mr. May on that?"
"Yes, Judge."
"All right," Lemar said, looking back at the papers in front of him. "This has been an extremely complex case and I believe the resolution presented here to be just and within the definitions of the law."
He set his hands flat atop the papers and straightened to his full height.
"The court accepts the plea of defendant Geoffrey Bartell the Third to one count of felony attempted suicide. The indictment of murder in the first degree is hereby dismissed with prejudice. Mr. Bartell, you are hereby remanded to the custody of the State Department of Law Enforcement for a period of six months. Court adjourned."
He tapped his gavel once and the room exploded into pandemonium.
As the Sheriff's Deputies approached Geoffrey Bartell he turned to face Camilla across the wooden railing. Words failed him as he fell into her eyes, which were moist yet resolute. She reached out a hand and he touched the tips of her fingers just long enough to feel the warmth of her through the lace glove before they took him by the shoulders and marched him away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FOUR MONTHS LATER...
THE aroma of coffee teased Camilla from slumber. Her eyes came gradually open as they adjusted to the dappled sunlight falling across the room. She was clutched by a moment of disorientation at the unfamiliar surroundings. Whitewashed wooden beams spanned the ceiling above her and below it a weathered turquoise-painted
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