They stepped onto the elevator with several other people getting onboard too, with many appearing to be lawyers or other professionals. But when they kept staring at Ricki as if she didn’tbelong in their pristine courthouse, Vince not only placed his arm around her waist again, but he pulled her body close against his. They looked at him when he pulled her closer, as if he was daring them to say something, and he could tell a couple of them desperately wanted to. But they just gave him that traitor look and looked away.
“Assholes,” he said beneath his breath.
Ricki, shocked, looked up at him. He scolded her no end for her potty mouth, when he had one too? She managed to smile. Hypocrisy never ceased to amaze her. But the fact that he was holding her, and kept her close against him, superseded any amazements. She needed him in that moment. She needed him.
Courtroom seven was on the second floor and they were able to secure a seat in the gallery. They were seated for only a few seconds when the prisoners, all in wrist and ankle shackles and orange jumpsuits, came marching in.
When she saw her sister marching in, her heart dropped. And she leaned against Vince. “That’s my sister,” she said.
Vince placed his arm over her shoulder when she leaned against him. He didn’t have to ask her which one, because the resemblance to Ricki was too obvious. A petite young woman, she looked so young! Was she a juvenile? He leaned into Ricki. “Geez. She look like a baby. How old is she?”
“Nineteen,” Ricki said. “I’m ten years older than her.”
That made Ricki twenty-nine, while he was forty. Which made him inwardly shake his head. What was he doing there? They literally had zero in common. Zero!
“All rise,” the bailiff said and the entire courtroom rose to their feet when the judge made his way to the bench. And the proceedings began.
Ricki’s sister’s case was near the last on the docket. It was almost seven p.m. when they got around to her case.
“Erica Richardson,” the clerk called out, and the youngster made her way, with her Public Defender, to the front of the judge’s desk.
“Good evening, Miss Richardson,” the judge said as he appeared to be reviewing her case file.
Erica looked at her attorney. Her attorney whispered in her ear. “Good evening, Judge,” Erica then said.
“Did your Public Defender explain to you, young lady, that this is an arraignment?”
“A bond hearing you mean?” asked Erica.
“Bond, or no bond, will be set during this arraignment, yes.”
“Then yeah, she told me.”
“Did she tell you that you have been charged with first-degree murder in the death of Dr. Harvey Proctor?”
“I didn’t do it, Judge.”
The Public Defender whispered in Erica’s ear again. “I mean, yes sir,” Erica then said.
“How do you plead, young lady?”
Erica needed no coaching for that. “Not guilty, Judge.”
“So entered,” said the judge. Then the judge looked over at the prosecutor, a tall black woman, as she stood on the other side of the public defender. “What says the State, Miss McDonald?”
“This woman brutally murdered and tortured one of the most popular and well-known physicians in all of Milton, Your Honor,” said the prosecutor. “An icon in the black community, he is gravely missed by all. On top of that, she’s a convicted prostitute.”
“Your Honor, I object,” the public defender said. “What does that have to do with anything?”
But Vince, hearing this information for the first time, was taken aback. That young girl a prostitute?
But the prosecutor wasn’t finished. “In addition to that, Your Honor, she’s also a convicted drug addict.”
“I object again! Your Honor, what does any of that have to do withthiscase?” asked the public defender.
An addict too? Vince knew it didn’t look good for her.
“What amount does the State recommends, Miss McDonald?” the judge asked.
