By: Z. Corwin
A thin swirl of smoke danced from the glowing tip of the
cigarette. No one else was smoking and
the moment
They had already taken her deposition and had slid the form
in front of her to sign, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She stared at it, mesmerized by the white
spaces, sporadically interrupted by black paragraphs. A voice broke the silence, prompting her,
once again, to sign and date her statement.
She wondered how many people actually went to jail for
perjury. She desperately wanted to tell
them the truth. She wanted to be free of
this whole thing and be back home. She
wanted to bake some cookies and fill her house with warm aromas - but most of all,
she wanted to forget everything that had happened over the past two
months.
The cigarette fell to the table and began to roll, leaving
ash and momentary sparks as it did. She
wanted it to roll over her statement, bursting it into flames but a hand
quickly reached from behind her, stopping it and crushing it out in the
ashtray. Nancy looked back over her
shoulder and saw it was Owen Phillips, the Assistant District Attorney. He looked down at her.
“Is there a problem?” his
voice noticeably agitated.
Her thoughts were quickly lost in the scurry of traffic and
although she saw her freeway exit pass, she wasn’t cognizant enough to
respond. She just kept driving forward,
following the pick-up truck with an old refrigerator standing up in its bed.
She wondered if it were still full of groceries. She imagined the milk sloshing around within
the carton, and the eggs rocking back and forth in their little egg tray. Then she remembered the cookies. She wanted so much to bake some cookies, but
why. She couldn’t remember why they
seemed so important. She only remembered
sitting in the conference room, surrounded by those people and their questions,
but thinking about the aroma of fresh, warm cookies.
She wasn’t sure where she was. Her gas gauge showed less than a quarter of a
tank. As she pulled off the freeway, she
saw a Texaco station and a small truck-stop style restaurant. She remembered the pick-up truck hauling the
refrigerator had left the freeway several miles back, but she had just kept
driving.
Sipping her coffee, she sat at a window seat and tried to
remember if she had signed the deposition.
Nothing was coming to her. She
couldn’t even recall what she had told them.
There was one cigarette left in her pack and as she reached for it, she
remembered the lit cigarette rolling across the conference room table, and that
no one else was smoking. She glanced
around the dinner and finally spotted the no smoking sign on the back of the
cash register.
She turned back towards the window and watched someone in a
John Deere baseball cap filling up their rig.
She wondered where they were headed.
She scanned the back doors of the 18-wheeler for a lock and didn’t see
one. Then she looked across the parking
lot at her car sitting there. Everyone
knew what car she drove, and they’d be looking for it. Looking back at the large truck she saw the
driver walking towards the pay booth. If
she was ever going to make her move, now would be the time. She started to stand up, but she felt a hand
on her shoulder. It firmly pushed her
back down. Startled, she looked and saw
it was the hand of the Assistant District Attorney.
“You need to sign your statement before you go.”
Nancy blinked and shook her head slightly. Had she been daydreaming this whole
time? What in the world was going
on? How long had she been just sitting
there? She reached for the pen and as
she lifted it, she noticed Davis County Realty (477-3658) along the
side.
She clicked it open and with her left hand, tilted the page
in front of her so she could sign. She
heard someone mutter, “Finally” and scoot their chair back, away from the
table. Good, she thought, people are
leaving, now we can get out of here.
Someone across from her asked,
“Are you all right?”
Those in the room, who had started to rise, sat back
down. Owen Phillips walked back to the
head of the table and looking at
Nancy placed her hand on her deposition and drew her
fingers inward, crumpling the document.
“I can’t sign this. This is what
they told me to say but it isn’t what happened.”
The uniformed officer who had been standing at the door -
who had not said anything, spoke up; “What who told you to say?”
The person sitting across from her reached across the table and placed his hand over her hand. “Do you have a lawyer you can call?” But before she could respond, Owen snapped, “Porter! Outside, now.” and the two of them stood up and left the conference room.
Nancy could hear them arguing outside the door but couldn’t
tell what they were saying. She looked
up at the uniformed officer and, in a weakened voice said, “Yes, I would like
to call someone.” but the officer did not respond. No one did.
The door opened and only the assistant DA came back in.
Owen sat back down, gave the court recorder a nod, and then
looked directly at Nancy, ignoring her request.
“Start from the beginning, and this time - the truth.”
to be continued
1 comment:
I hope so.........
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