Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Death Caps--part three

We get the word. The jury has reached a verdict.

I can't believe it. They've been sequestered only forth-five minutes.

I'm scared. Rosy looks scared, too. She's trembling all over.

I walk over and give her a hug.

She asks me, “What do you think, Phil?”

“I’m optimistic,” I say, giving her another squeeze. "I love you."

Rosy smiles, but doesn't say she loves me back. That's okay.

I realize she's stressed to the max. Her heart is numb after everything she's had to endure.

The bailiff hands Judge Biggs the paper verdict. Biggs shows no emotion as he silently reads it.

I try to read the jury, but I can't. They all look tired, but relaxed. I'm thinking they're relieved. Their job is done.

Judge Biggs asks foreman Owen Taylor to read the verdict.

“Not guilty on all counts,” Owen announces.

The courtroom erupts in cheers. I hear one objection from a woman I can't see. She yells, "Oh, my God, no."

I run over and grab Rosy. I pick her up and swing her around.

She says, "Don't squeeze me to death, Phil," and laughs.

Lincoln makes two victory signs with his fingers. He hugs Rosy and hugs me.

Rosy says she needs to go to the Ladies room before we walk outside to confront the media. For several minutes, Lincoln and I wait for her.

She comes out of the Ladies Room, smiling and looking happy. I can see she's put on pink lipstick and powdered her face.

We walk toward the glass doors of the courthouse, and I hear Rosy’s cell phone ring, a Madonna song: "She's not me. She's not me. She's not me and she never will be."

Rosy grabs the phone from her Birkin bag and glances at the caller I.D. "It's Candy," she says.

"Hi Sweetie, the jury found me innocent," Rosy says to Candy. "I know...but right now I have to feed the media."

We head toward the pool of reporters at the bottom of the courthouse steps. Candy is still on the phone with Candy. A cameraman bumps Rosy. The cell phone flies from her hand.

I catch the thing before it falls. A barrage of reporters ask Rosy questions like:

"How do you feel?"

"Were you confident you'd be found innocent?"

Candy is still on the phone, thinking she's talking to her mother. I start to explain to Candy what's going on when I hear her whisper, “I’m glad you killed that son of a bitch, Mama.”

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