Holy Fucking Shit.
Macro growled in Bruno’s ear and the pair slowly turned their heads toward each other, locking eyes with a knowing look. Bruno was seething, burning with overwhelming rage. Snapping his head towards Castillo, he glared up at the man. He was half tempted to march right over to him and knock him unconscious to quiet his big mouth. The last thing the boss needed to do was test the jury or the judge, or worse, anger them.
The worst part?
Bruno was powerless to prevent it.
Two witnesses testified. Both had tanned features and thick Hispanic accents, they mentioned seeing Castillo in the bar in Tijuana on the night of the murder. And Castillo didn’t have an alibi because he couldn’t admit where he really was without sending his entire crew down for twenty years. Someone had suggested at the time that he would need a stiff drink after what he’d done that night.
Castillo made no comment.
Strike three.
Castillo went down for a count of murder with no chance of parole...it was LIFE. In the words of the judge, he had committed a crime, shockingly evil, wicked, and vile beyond belief. Said he recognized a dangerous sociopath for what he was.
There were no loopholes for him to exploit.
In all his years, Bruno had learned the mantra: the quieter you stay, the longer you survive. Now, for the first time, he would talk. What Bruno didn’t know at that time, was that Castillo had already been picked out from a line-up the previous evening.
When Bruno himself took the stand, his low baritone voice made everyone look up. “My name is Bruno De Luca. And I’m here to provide the character testimony for Castillo.” He gave a fake smile to the jury. “If you’re going to send this man down, then you’ll be sending away the most charitable man in the state, a hero.”
The judge stared hard at Bruno, who held his best poker face. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.
A murmur ran through the 12 men and women in the jury as Castillo interrupted saying he was speaking the truth.
The judge slammed his gavel for silence. He glared at the jury as if to say,“Or else.”The judge took a long sip of his water. Then he narrowed his eyes at Castillo and smirked. A corrupt judge was easy to spot. They gave out all kinds of tell-tale signs.
Castillo narrowed his eyes at him, too.
“With all due respect, your honor, my client will refrain from making comment during witness testimony,” the lawyer said diplomatically. Castillo’s lawyer looked shocked, every ounce of professionalism dropping from his shoulders, knowing it was pointless to continue, he then said, “I have no further questions for this witness”
Bruno clenched his fists at his sides and grunted a frustrated curse. He wanted to yell at the judge, rat him out that it was all part of a twisted plot on the Mexican’s part. Not going to happen. His sharp, logical mind knew this was the worst choice in this situation. Fisting his knuckles, he used his them to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Bastards,” he muttered. He then stared at the judge. Too hard.
He felt it. The judges’ eyes snapped up, blazing into Bruno’s like hate-filled lasers.
There would be no point in trying to explain it to anyone now. Bruno gave with a wide-eyed look of pity at Castillo and then to Sophia. Castillo cast his eyes to his wife and his grandmother sitting in the jury’s stands. His wife was wiping tears from her eyes. Everything that was… fell in front of their eyes.
“The witness can stand down.”
Bruno returned to his seat, and as if it was needed this wasstrike four. Within a few more minutes, the jury was sent out to deliberate. Hardly necessary as within the hour, everyone was back in court for the verdict...
The judge narrowed his eyes at Castillo. “Count yourselves lucky it wasn’t the electric chair. If we were in Florida, it would have been.”
Castillo’s lawyer picked up his notes from the table and shook his head. Most guys, in Castillo’s position, would tell all, rat on the mob to save his ass. Not him.
Ha-Ha-Funny….SHITHEADS. He would never do that.
The state prosecutor and defense attorney, emerged from the courtroom, Bruno turned his attention to the jackass who’d just prosecuted his boss. Bruno seethed, stalking across the hall, straight for him. “Listen, asshole!” His voice echoed around the room. Without a second thought, Bruno smacked him across the face.
The blow bloodied his nose and warm blood gushed down his face. He accepted the punch with a silent scowl.
A demonic growl ground through Bruno’s clenched teeth. “Un-fucking-forgivable.” What he wouldn’t give to take a swing at him. In his dreams, he was going to slice his balls off with a knife.
Screw it. To hell with it.
Within the hour, the now former mob boss of the Castillo crime family was in a helicopter lifting off from the courthouse roof, headed to a maximum security prison. There would be appeals ahead, predicted to take years, but for all intents and purposes, Vincent Castillo’s story was over.
Photographers and Journalists bellowed their names but all Bruno could hear was indistinct sound. As much as he wanted to silence the bastards, he had to take care of Sophia.
