Post by Ghost-Alexander Vainqueur on Jan 15, 2015 12:20:38 GMT
Ghost stood up allowing the seconds to add up like leaves in mid-fall. All the eyes of the jurors, bailiff pool and courtroom as a whole were on him. The prosecution had done a great job of materializing their case out of hope, wishes, and sleight of hand. He had attacked their case at every turn showing the men behind the curtain. He answered their smoke and mirrors with fact with reason. The truth of the matter was that they should have won the case a hundred times over. They had the defendant convicted in the court of public opinion. He was a noted motorcyclist with criminal ties. He had a rap sheet a mile long and then some. He came from a poor neighborhood where morals were in as short a demand as food most days. And at the end of the day he had killed the deceased. Not in the way they painted and with none of the malice of intent. He had done the inconceivable by a person with his background. He hadn’t acted impulsively. He hadn’t bragged all over social media. He had taken steps to insure that there were more plausible reasons for the man to be dead than by his hand.
In the end what he hadn’t done, what he hadn’t been able to do was to keep his past form biting him in the ass. The streets talked as the streets always did it was his clients bad luck that when they did speak the arresting detectives were listening. Sighing Ghost didn’t do anything as stereotypical as button his suit coat. He didn’t smooth his hands across his head. He wouldn’t do anything to catch their eye. He already had them. He had spent all of the proceedings so far battering their hearts with reason. He had relied on the facts the Prosecution tried to hide as they didn’t mesh with their idea of what happened. They expected the same now in his closing arguments. He knew if he did the case was well and truly lost. Most people in the battle between head and heart always went with their heart. It was to this he would address his statements.
Looking to the judge then the bailiffs and finally the jury he opened his mouth to speak closing it as he picked up his scribbled on note card. Setting it back down he shook his head as if he would not be using anything there. In truth he couldn’t he had been writing Dawn, D, Vharos, and all of the above over and over again. In short the notes he took were just for show much like the prosecution’s case of evidence.
Not looking towards the jury he looked to the judge once more. “May it please the court.” Turning to the jury he continued speaking “Ladies, Gentlemen, of the jury. I know you're tired. You've been very patient. This final day has been a long one and yet there is still more roads to tread before you all are done. So as I summarize why you should rule in favor of my client I want to thank you for your service.”
Taking a swig of his water he placed the glass back down going on. “You all know me or as much of me as you can. My name is Alexander Fantôme Vainqueur. I am a lawyer and like many of you I'd never given much thought to how I would die. I have envisioned growing old seeing grandkids running about the lawn of my ranch style home somewhere it was warm all the time free of smog and quiet enough to hear the birds sing. But thoughts of my death rarely crossed my mind. I do know that the deceased deserved better than he got. He deserved better than being chopped into pieces and mailed to the other members of his gang including his mother who was the Chapter President. No one should have to suffer that fate. No one. Just like no one deserves to die in prison without undeniable proof that they are the worst sort of being capable and guilty of the worst sort of crimes against mankind which is what the Prosecution would have you decide for my client.
That is what he Prosecution says my client deserves. They have asserted that my client is guilty of having done the unspeakable. The DA would have you decide that because my client is Black, Poor, Undereducated, and yes also a motorcyclist that he is not only capable but willing to end another person’s life in the most heinous of ways; then use that poor soul send a message to the deceased’s loved ones. The DA would have you sentence my client to a lifetime of lost freedoms all without any actual evidence.
The DA has done a good job of painting a picture f his idea of the events that led to the deceased’s last few hours. They have done a good job of painting my client as the sort of person to whom life is cheap. That my client because of his race, environment, income, and hobby is an animal. I can’t argue with the DA’s skill at painting. I could really see the picture she was painting. It is a vivid one and if I allow myself to hold onto the notion that just because my client is not privileged, not white, not wealthy, that he is capable of the most ignorant evil possible.
Sadly all the painting in the world can never erase the simple fact that race is not a crime. Lack of an education is not criminal. Being poor is not validation that life has no value. Even if it were to accept that my client being all those things would have the wherewithal to destroy hide or otherwise get rid of the murder weapon. That the ignorant person as painted by the DA would be able to obscure, defeat and remove any forensic data that would tie him to the crime. And most glaringly not brag, mention, or otherwise even be aware of the crime until he was dragged off his bike by an overzealous detective.
No the DA can’t have it both ways. He cannot paint my client as undereducated and ignorant, yet be a criminal mastermind. My client is either product of his environment or not my client is not Moriarty and the deceased was not Sherlock Holmes. Ladies and gentleman the decision as to what is to become of my client rests with you? I know you all will each and every one will follow the dictates of their hearts…Rule for my client. Send a message to the DA that no matter how well she bends truths and hides behind her class racism that we will not send my client or any innocent man to prison for the remainder of their lives.”
In the end what he hadn’t done, what he hadn’t been able to do was to keep his past form biting him in the ass. The streets talked as the streets always did it was his clients bad luck that when they did speak the arresting detectives were listening. Sighing Ghost didn’t do anything as stereotypical as button his suit coat. He didn’t smooth his hands across his head. He wouldn’t do anything to catch their eye. He already had them. He had spent all of the proceedings so far battering their hearts with reason. He had relied on the facts the Prosecution tried to hide as they didn’t mesh with their idea of what happened. They expected the same now in his closing arguments. He knew if he did the case was well and truly lost. Most people in the battle between head and heart always went with their heart. It was to this he would address his statements.
Looking to the judge then the bailiffs and finally the jury he opened his mouth to speak closing it as he picked up his scribbled on note card. Setting it back down he shook his head as if he would not be using anything there. In truth he couldn’t he had been writing Dawn, D, Vharos, and all of the above over and over again. In short the notes he took were just for show much like the prosecution’s case of evidence.
Not looking towards the jury he looked to the judge once more. “May it please the court.” Turning to the jury he continued speaking “Ladies, Gentlemen, of the jury. I know you're tired. You've been very patient. This final day has been a long one and yet there is still more roads to tread before you all are done. So as I summarize why you should rule in favor of my client I want to thank you for your service.”
Taking a swig of his water he placed the glass back down going on. “You all know me or as much of me as you can. My name is Alexander Fantôme Vainqueur. I am a lawyer and like many of you I'd never given much thought to how I would die. I have envisioned growing old seeing grandkids running about the lawn of my ranch style home somewhere it was warm all the time free of smog and quiet enough to hear the birds sing. But thoughts of my death rarely crossed my mind. I do know that the deceased deserved better than he got. He deserved better than being chopped into pieces and mailed to the other members of his gang including his mother who was the Chapter President. No one should have to suffer that fate. No one. Just like no one deserves to die in prison without undeniable proof that they are the worst sort of being capable and guilty of the worst sort of crimes against mankind which is what the Prosecution would have you decide for my client.
That is what he Prosecution says my client deserves. They have asserted that my client is guilty of having done the unspeakable. The DA would have you decide that because my client is Black, Poor, Undereducated, and yes also a motorcyclist that he is not only capable but willing to end another person’s life in the most heinous of ways; then use that poor soul send a message to the deceased’s loved ones. The DA would have you sentence my client to a lifetime of lost freedoms all without any actual evidence.
The DA has done a good job of painting a picture f his idea of the events that led to the deceased’s last few hours. They have done a good job of painting my client as the sort of person to whom life is cheap. That my client because of his race, environment, income, and hobby is an animal. I can’t argue with the DA’s skill at painting. I could really see the picture she was painting. It is a vivid one and if I allow myself to hold onto the notion that just because my client is not privileged, not white, not wealthy, that he is capable of the most ignorant evil possible.
Sadly all the painting in the world can never erase the simple fact that race is not a crime. Lack of an education is not criminal. Being poor is not validation that life has no value. Even if it were to accept that my client being all those things would have the wherewithal to destroy hide or otherwise get rid of the murder weapon. That the ignorant person as painted by the DA would be able to obscure, defeat and remove any forensic data that would tie him to the crime. And most glaringly not brag, mention, or otherwise even be aware of the crime until he was dragged off his bike by an overzealous detective.
No the DA can’t have it both ways. He cannot paint my client as undereducated and ignorant, yet be a criminal mastermind. My client is either product of his environment or not my client is not Moriarty and the deceased was not Sherlock Holmes. Ladies and gentleman the decision as to what is to become of my client rests with you? I know you all will each and every one will follow the dictates of their hearts…Rule for my client. Send a message to the DA that no matter how well she bends truths and hides behind her class racism that we will not send my client or any innocent man to prison for the remainder of their lives.”