Checking his watch, he noted the time and adjusted his tie. A half an hour or so left before the trial would commence. When Castillo’s attorney approached, the three of them stepped into a private room to go over their testimonies. Things he needed them to be specific on and things they needed to answer in a specific way when asked questions.
Minutes turned to hours, time dripping slowly like a thick syrup. Usually, they had a waiting room, but the case was running late. Today, the hallway was their waiting room. Castillo’s close family were present, sobbing and speculating, but De Luca sat alone. Stoic. Silent. Every once in a while, he glanced up and saw Castillo’s old lady.
Sophia, looking filled with dread and anxiety kept pacing up and down in front of the courtroom door. Above her, a brass plaque plastered over the wood at head-height that said simply,Courtroom F. She, more than anyone else, was becoming increasingly on edge with every second that passed.
Leaning his head back against the wall, Bruno shut his eyes and said a short prayer. He thought about the events of the night before. How Leonardo had laughed in his face. It had astounded him at the time. How he’d nearly betrayed his own woman so absolutely.
When a deep, don’t-fuck-with-me baritone announced, “All parties for the case between San Diego state and Vincent Castillo, please line up outside the courtroom,” Bruno’s eyes shot open to find a bearded, African-American man in a khaki green uniform stood in front of the now open, courtroom door. This wasn’t typical, but this wasn’t your typical case.
It was murder.
Rising to his feet, Bruno motioned for everyone to be quiet.
The steward appeared and motioned those not giving evidence to go into court.
Bruno looked for Sophia as she walked past and taking her by the hand he raised it to his lips, locking her panic-stricken gaze with his dark eyes to reassure her that everything would be all right.
The woman made no reply. Only stared so severely into in his eyes he could feel the storm that was to come.
Bruno felt immensely relieved to find himself at last, in the courtroom. He took his place in the stands.
Castillo was already inside, caged behind a plastic screen like an animal. Both his shackled wrists were on the table and he appeared calm, resolute.
Bruno wasn’t surprised. This was a game Castillo had played many times before, a game he knew how to win. He didn’t play fair, but who did?
A fool that’s who.
Bruno looked around the room again and noted that Sophia sat behind the defense attorney. Another woman sat next to her, a very frail, very elderly lady, perhaps Castillo’s mother? When they met Castillo’s eyes, both of them waved crossed fingers at him.
Castillo gave them a nonchalant wink and a smile.
Sophia’s returned smile faltered into a pained pursing of her lips.
“Order in the court!” the bailiff bellowed from the far door.
Bruno snapped his head around and glared at the open doorway as the judge entered the room.
When the man stepped inside, everyone rose to their feet. He sat in his usual place behind his podium at the head of the room.
Just as the trial began, Bruno looked over at the jury sitting up there, and spotted three Mexican men in their company.Sleazy ass motherfuckers!He curled his fingers into fists.
Apparently, Marco noticed too, because he narrowed his eyes at the three men. “Who the fuck let in the alley rats?” he whispered.
“Beats me,” Bruno whispered back.
The security guard who stood beside the judge nodded at two other officers in the room and they each shut the wooden doors.
As soon as the hearing was in session, Bruno kept his eyes on Castillo and everyone else did the same.
Castillo rose to make his opening statement, all carefully written and practiced. Usually, he was good at it. Today, he sounded cocky. And noticeably worked up. Kept his words so far removed from the facts that he made the whole situation look ridiculous. And it appeared to irritate the judge and jury.
Strike one.
The prosecutor in a regimental striped tie and heavy, polished, waxed shoes was introduced as John Nixon. Nixon, a real fire-baller, questioned Castillo under cross-examination. The type who talked in bullshit accents to prove they were educated, played on Castillo’s lack of an alibi for the night of October the 25th. Castillo had lied, a small lie but everyone could tell. And it tainted all the rest of his testimony. The body was positively identified as a criminal. He had multiple bullet wounds, wrapped up, tied and placed in shipping boxes. He said this connected Castillo with the victim. Pretty much horseshit, but the jury pandered to his BS, dancing happily to whatever tune he played. Nixon went on to show the juryexactlywhat happened to the victim, spinning a story out of his ass. Finally, he threw a fireball right into Castillo’s nuts. “So how do you explain this photograph?”
Castillo let out a thunderous laugh.
Strike two.
