Chapter 10: The Trial Part 4 - It's a Small World

There are certain people in this world who burst with excitement when an unexpected suprise is sprung upon them. I am not one of those people. I loathe suprises. I scorn for change. I prefer to live my life in ignorant bliss as the world around me crumbles into darkness. But surely you are among those that enjoy suprises, so I will indulge my audience for at least one chapter, and perhaps more, if you remain so well behaved as you are at the present. So, and now without further hesitation, I present to you a gift. It's not rapped in sparkling paper or tied with a pretty bow, but the means for which it is introduced, I hope will suffice.

"And who are they, Ms. O'Malley? Who are these two people that shared this journey to America with your Grandmother?" Mr. Feinstein's smile gradually crept back onto his face in expectation of her reply. "Read the names aloud to the court please."

"Caroline Alexandria Marcoux and Vedette Audrey Marcoux," Gabriella exclaimed boldy, and with a slight fear as to how Mr. Feinstein would use these names against her.

"Pardon me, Ms. O'Malley, but did you say Caroline and Vedette Marcoux?" Feinstein stood with an appearance of total shock, though the sarcasm in his voice and the shifty mocking manner within his gait did not escape notice. "Why, wouldn't those two names be the very same mother and grandmother of one Jack Marcoux, the man who sits before us accused of murder?"

I had endured the entire trial up to this point with a quiet nervousness, but the very sound of my mother's name leaving his lips infuriated me. My blood boiled as I sat in anxiousness and a hopeful opportunity that I might meet this man alone, face to face, and smear that devilish smirk of his with the sole of my left shoe. And he couldn't just leave it at that. No, he wasn't satisfied with merely saying her name. He had to trounce upon the boundaries of respectability and soil this woman I loved, in spite of all her malladies - a woman he had never known - and break my calm intentions to such a degree that I was ready to burst from my chair and wring his chicken neck at any moment.

I closed my eyes. Just looking at him caused my mind to invent a variety of terrible and great devices that would bring this infuriating man his untimely end. But I mustn't lose my cool, I kept telling myself. I musn't let those around me, those that were to be the judge and executioner of my soul, witness the state of mind I was in. With my hands relaxed in my lap, fingers intertwined in a grip so fierce all my knuckles turned white, I dreamed that Mr. Feinstein stood before Gabriella with a cracked skull, holding his brain in his hand and drooling out the side of his disgusting grin, as he brought his line of questioning to a conclusion.

"And so here we are, Ms. O'Malley. You stated that you recognized those two names, but you have yet to mention that you have intimate knowledge of one of them. You knew Mr. Marcoux's mother didn't you?"

"I did," Gabriella confessed through an outburst of sobs and shame, once more digressing into an emotional mess.

"What a small world this is," Feinstein exclaimed with a gleam in his malevelent eye. "And now the truth unfolds before us, doesn't it Ms. O'Malley. Because, you see, I've been watching you, the only witness dear Mr. Goolsby could produce on behalf of his client's good nature. Oh yes, I've been watching you, spoke with everyone you knew, found everything I could possibly find out about you, and then I came across this list when I discovered when it was your Grandmother migrated to America." The end of this outburst concluded with an exhausted stoop of Feinstein's shoulders as he leaned in closely to Gabriella, hovering over the witness stand.

"I suggest you back away from the witness, Mr. Feinstein," Doogood chimed in for the first time during this entire fiasco.

Feinstein stood up straight once more and relaxed with the knowledge that he had had his revenge on this sweet girl, and it was then that I realized she had gone too far with her astute observations.

"My apologies, your Honor," said Feinstein. "I've outdone myself, I see, but I promise to proceed more calmly. I just have a few more very brief questions for the witness."

"Be quick about it, the poor girl is trembling," advised the judge.

Mr. Feinstein nodded, but did not acknowledge Gabriella's discomfort as he continued. "Ms. O'Malley, you were close to Mrs. Marcoux weren't you?" She nodded. "I'm sorry, please verbalize your answer for the court."

"Yes," she blurted out excitedly.

"Tell us how you came to know her, Ms. O'Malley," the prosecutor continued with a calmer tone and demeanor, his voice almost sweet and endearing, which made me hate him even more.

"Objection your honor," Goolsby interceded. "Whether or not Ms. O'Malley knew the client's mother is irrelevent in this case."

"I'm only trying to prove why Ms. O'Malley would claim to know Mr. Marcoux for just three years. It has been nearly twenty years since his mother died. If she knew his mother personaly nearly two decades ago, then she had to have known Mr. Marcoux longer than three years."

"Sustained, answer the question Ms. O'Malley," said Doogood. It took every ounce of strength I had to remain seated as Feinstein continued.

"Again Ms. O'Malley, how did you come to know Mrs. Marcoux?"

"She met my grandmother at the market and was surprised to find she was the same woman she had met on the ship. They kept in touch and I visited Mrs. Marcoux on several occaions," Gabriella admitted.

"At Mrs. Marcoux's home?"

"Yes," she confessed, again through tears.

"Did you visit Mrs. O'Malley's home more than once?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me how is it Ms. O'Malley, that you were present at the Marcoux residence more than once and never knew of the defendant?"

"Because he was locked in the basement. Mrs. Marcoux spoke of him, but she said he lived with his father. I never knew the truth about Jack until he was taken to the orphanage."

"Again that was nearly twenty years ago, Ms. O'Malley. Do you still claim to have only know the defendant for three years?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her voice bringing a sudden start to Feinstein's face. "I never visited him. I'll admit that I watched him, but he never noticed me or knew who I was."

"And why did you watch him?"

"I was curious, and I felt sorry for him. I liked his mother and I wanted to help, but he seemed so independent, like he didn't need anyone's help. I did what I could for him annonymously, but I never let it be known that it was me."

"Can you give an example of your annonymous hospitality, Ms. O'Malley?"

"Small things like blankets and soup and water. He slept under the bridge. I would bring them to him while he slept."

"Then you did know the defendant longer than three years, albeit perhaps not on a personal level; though I wouldn't hardly say haven spoken to a person over the last three years personal." Gabriella's tears had stopped at this point. She sat morosely in her seat and refused to look at anyone. "How old are you Ms. O'Malley?"

"Twenty nine."

"Only four years younger than the defendant," Feinstein observed. "You seem to care a lot about this man, Ms. O'Malley. Do you love him?"

"What, no, don't be ridiculous," Gabriella growled. "I told you I felt sorry for him."

"And did you feel sorry for his mother? Is that why you visited her? She must have been very lonely, living with her alcoholic father in law, abandoned by her husband?"

His statements were sudden and uncalled for, and I had had about as much as I could tollerate from this overbearing snake of a man. I jumped from my seat and slid over the table before Goolsby could grab hold of me. In a matter of seconds I had the devilish Mr. Feinstein pinned to the floor with my left shoe on his throat. So tempting it was, just a little more pressure and Mr. Feinstein would be no more. Screams of "No!" issued from both Gabriella and Goolsby as the bailifs wrestleed me off of the prosecutor and I was dragged away. I didn't see what happened next, but I could hear the commotion inside the courtroom and Feinstein's final words before everything faded away.

"Do you see now what kind of monster this man is!" Feinstein hollered, prompty followed by Gabriella.

"You're the only monster here!"

Doogood's gavel hammered to no avail as my sudden outburst left the courtroom in disarray. I assumed there were no further questions, nor proceedings for the remainder of the day. I awaited the morning newspaper to find me in my cell. The prison guards were only too grateful at the opportunity to provide a copy, eyeballing me with contempt as I read the headlines.

"Madman on Trial for Murder Makes Attempt on Life of State Prosecutor."

what a mess I've made now, I thought, no way out now. I realized I had better become more accustomed to my prison surroundings. That outburst had bought me a one way ticket to life without parole. Nevertheless, despite the dark times ahead of me, it was the last thing from my mind.

How dare he ask her such questions. Feinstein's debauchery had ruined Gabriella. She would never be able to show her face in public again.

Why did she confess everything to him. What bearing did it have on anything. Of course I had known everything all along. I knew about the blankets. I knew about her visiting my mother when I was younger. I watched her from my basement universe, entranced by her fiery hair and green eyes through the keyhole of my adolescent prison.

And mother, dear mother, how I hate this man. If only you knew what was happening. If only you knew how this man made me feel whenever he said your name. If only you had been there. Why did you leave? Why did you die? Why did you make me hate this world so much?