This week is shaping up to set new records for spiking my blood pressure.
Mom texted me on Tuesday to let me know she’d been subpoenaed to appear in court in Newport for a trial next month. She has to drive 215 miles one way to testify in a domestic case. Well, huh. I was there when the “incident” went down and I hadn’t received my summons, and I was hoping they wouldn’t be calling me but today I got a call from “Restricted” and knew immediately what it was about.
A Sheriff was in the trailer park but I hadn’t given my whole address to the cops on the day of the “incident” so he didn’t know what trailer to knock on and was reluctant to knock until he found me. Of course, I wasn’t even there, so he would have been out of luck. I directed him to my office and he served me and left. Sigh.
After taking a look at who was being tried, well, my blood pressure went through the roof. The wrong person is on trial and I am pissed that it’s even going to trial. A look at the prosecutor and all is now clear.
When I still lived on The Coast, I had Jury Duty. It was a ridiculous waste of time for all parties and I doubt I should go into the details except to say that the attorney for the defense was a young woman who was ill-prepared and, well, idiotic. We the jury convicted because the defense had no case. It was absurd and I left with a bad impression of the defense attorney and her client.
Seems she’s moved up in the world to Deputy District Attorney! OMFG! Granted, it’s been a few years and she must have more experience now, but she has no case if she’s basing it on eye-witness testimony.
Here’s what happened –
Mom and I were at Crazy Dog Lady’s house one Sunday back in July, spreading rock salt onto the weeds in the ditch from the trunk of CDL’s car. I was already angry because killing weeds was not on my agenda for the weekend and we were on a schedule. We were about to get started when I looked up the street and saw a woman walking down the hill towards us. I didn’t think much of it until she started waving her arms and yelling for help.
She started to shuffle-run towards us and a car crested the hill, moving slowly, a woman hanging her head out the window saying, “Just give me my stuff back. You can’t go to work like this. I just want the money you stole from me…” She wasn’t yelling, she wasn’t chasing, she wasn’t threatening at all, IMHO.
The woman (younger by a few years) on foot came rushing up to us, desperate for a phone. She wanted to go into CDL’s house and I held up my hands and told her to stay where she was. Something was very off about her and my hackles were up. She was going on and on about the other woman chasing her and she needed the police and wanted to go inside.
I ran in to get the phone and CDL came running out, phone in hand, asking what was going on. The woman started spinning a tale, and I say it that way because I was watching her work on CDL’s sympathy like a pro. I can’t really explain what I mean, but if you’ve ever dealt with a snake in human skin you know just what I mean – it was fake, engineered, scripted to play heartstrings and not a bit of it was true.
So. I asked the woman from the car if drugs were involved because the woman on foot was coming down from something and it was a bad trip. The woman from the car was sober and had that defeated look on her face that I’ve had myself when you know that the lying asshole is going to get away with it, again, and nothing you say is going to change a thing.
She told me that this has happened before and she’s had to move 5 times in the last year because of the drama caused by the younger woman. I said that maybe this would be a good time to make a clean break and let the drama go. The whole scene felt like something they’d played out many times before.
I’d never met either of these women before, but my narc-dar was ringing like a bell so I was watching them both. The woman from the car was defeated, depressed, humiliated, and just wanting to get out of there, which she did when the police didn’t show up within 15 minutes. She said they could talk to her at home and off she went.
Meanwhile, CDL is calling the police every three minutes, sounding more and more hysterical. Let me assure you, no one was on fire or bleeding, but the woman on foot was winding CDL up like one of those old alarm clocks and CDL was about to blow. I watched the woman very closely and could see that CDL was falling for it hook, line and sinker. When she went inside to get a sweater for the woman, an amazing change took place – the woman’s expression and body language changed completely, from tearful victim to calculating monster. I saw it very clearly. I turned away before she could see that I’d seen and CDL came back out, sweater in hand, and the woman once again became the tearful victim. BUT when she asked me for a cigarette I saw who she was and she saw that I recognized her.
It was a good show – if she knew me she would have shut down the waterworks and tried a different tack, but no, here we are.
So Mom and I spread the salt and the police came. The woman was questioned. CDL was questioned and of course told a tale of victimization because she hadn’t even seen the other woman, so focused was she on the “victim.”
I was questioned and I told the police exactly what I saw, including my opinion that the woman on foot was creating a drama-filled scene and I didn’t believe a word she said. I explained why I thought what I thought. I gave my contact info and went inside to finish crossing things off my list so I could get the fuck out of Crazy Town. Mom gave her statement and that, we thought, was that.
I had a conversation with CDL about the incident later and she was convinced that the woman on foot was horribly abused and needed help. She totally bought the act even though she only had one side of the story. She was called in to testify before the Grand Jury and told the story as she remembered it. Here’s the kicker, though – I was the only one who saw the two women approach, the only one who saw the car actually in motion (a lot of questions were asked about if the car was “chasing” the woman on foot) and I was not called to testify then – doubtless there would have been no case because I am not a bleeding heart who believes alligator tears and would have told the Whole Story as I’d seen it unfold, but there ya go.
I dunno. Now I have to appear in court and I am not happy about it. If the prosecutor is calling Mom and me to testify, don’t you think she would have deposed us? She has no idea what we might say on the stand, especially considering the wrong woman is on trial. I would think the notes the police took make my position clear on the matter, but maybe she is as green as she appeared the last time I saw her.
I mean, doesn’t she watch How to Get Away With Murder? Annalise would never ask a question she didn’t know the answer to or put an unknown witness on the stand, especially if all evidence points to said witness being hostile to her client.
As if that’s not enough, The Kid was drunk when I got home from work last night. Not a little tipsy. Not enjoying a little buzz. Fall down, slurring, stupid, pass-out drunk. He was awake when I got there but my silent fury caused him to go outside and pass out in a chair on the patio in full view of all my neighbors. Towanda smelled like a frat house.
By this morning I had calmed down enough to yell at him without putting my hands around his skinny neck or calling him names. It seems, contrary to his protestations, that if he has cash in his pocket he will spend it on booze. Fine. I told him he could do whatever he wants to do with his cash but I don’t have to live with it. I’ve been here before and I don’t have to live like this. I didn’t kick him out in August because it looked like he had some prospects and he had an attitude change and was helping me with some chores I just couldn’t get to but my patience is at an end.