Returning my attention to the waiting Judge, I nodded and spoke quietly. “Yes, Your Honor. I’m ready.”
“Alright. What say you, Mr. Bateman? Tell the Court what happened on the night of July 10th?”
I swallowed hard. “On the night of July 10th, I went to the home of a drug dealer and threatened him—”
The Judge interrupted me and spoke to my attorney. “This is an alleged drug dealer, correct? The victim has not been convicted of any crime?”
My attorney responded. “Yes, Your Honor. The victim has not been convicted of any crime.”
Ain’t that a kick in the ass. I’ll be a convicted felon before all of the real criminals.
The Judge directed the next part to me. “Mr. Bateman, you can either refer to the victim as the victim, the alleged drug dealer or by his name. Anything else will not be tolerated. Do you understand?”
My jaw clenched so tight I thought I might crack a pearly white, but I nodded. There was no fucking way I was calling that piece of shit a victim. Adele was the only victim in this whole tragedy.
“Go on.”
“As I was saying. I went to the home of the alleged drug dealer, Darius Marshall, and threatened him. The alleged drug dealer was the boyfriend of my sister. It’s my understanding that he had a dispute with another alleged drug dealer. I threatened Darius to tell me where the other drug dealer was. The police had been looking for the other alleged dealer for two weeks and weren’t making any progress. I wanted to help. Darius refused to tell me where the guy was.”
“And why were the police looking for this other alleged drug dealer?”
I looked at the bench and then back at my sister. She looked broken. Taking a deep breath, I continued, “He raped my sister. To get even with Darius. And before he left her beaten and scarred, he told her he’d be back again.”
It was the first time the Judge’s face softened. “And what did you do when Darius Marshall refused to give you the information you wanted?”
It was a small victory, but the Judge finally stopped calling Darius the victim, too. “I attacked him.”
“Were any weapons involved in the attack?”
I looked to my attorney and back to the judge. “I don’t believe so, Your Honor?”
“You don’t believe so? Meaning you aren’t sure?”
“Well…no weapons were recovered at the scene, and I don’t recall having one with me. But, no, I can’t be sure.”
“And why is that Mr. Bateman?”
“Because I don’t remember most of the attack.”
“I see. What is the last thing that you are able to recall?”
I knew. But I damn sure didn’t want to repeat it out loud. She was so fragile already.
My lawyer whispered to me, “You need to do this, Chance.”
I cleared my throat. “Darius said something to me. And that’s the last thing I can recall.”
“And what is it that he said, Mr. Bateman?”
My attorney had warned me not to show anger. It took every ounce of willpower that I had to unclench my fists and speak. “He said…my sister was a crack whore, and she might as well have gotten the first one under her belt because she would be taking cock down her throat in exchange for a dime bag by next week.”
The judge looked sympathetic momentarily. “And do you know the nature of the injuries that Darius Marshall sustained?”
“As far as I’ve been told, he had a broken nose, a fractured eye socket, a concussion and a few broken ribs.”
“And you recall none of the actions that lead to these injuries?”
“No, Your Honor. I don’t. I remember what I already told you, and the next thing I can recall is him saying 1925 Harmon Street.”
“Alright then, Mr. Bateman. We’re almost done here. I have a few additional questions before we will break and then come back this afternoon for sentencing.”
I nodded.
“Do you regret your actions, Mr. Bateman?”
The last question was a bone of contention between my lawyer and me. While he didn’t outright tell me to lie, I could read between the lines. But I’d come this far. I was going to stand tall. Not three hours after Darius was carted away in an ambulance, the dealer that attacked Adele was arrested. I looked straight into the eyes of the Judge and told the honest to God’s truth. “No. I don’t regret my actions.”
It was nearly four by the time the Judge called us back into the Courtroom. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before speaking. “Mr. Bateman. Do you understand that as a result of your guilty plea, you may lose certain valuable civil rights such as the right to vote, the right to hold public office, the right to serve on a jury and the right to possess a firearm?”
“Alright. What say you, Mr. Bateman? Tell the Court what happened on the night of July 10th?”
I swallowed hard. “On the night of July 10th, I went to the home of a drug dealer and threatened him—”
The Judge interrupted me and spoke to my attorney. “This is an alleged drug dealer, correct? The victim has not been convicted of any crime?”
My attorney responded. “Yes, Your Honor. The victim has not been convicted of any crime.”
Ain’t that a kick in the ass. I’ll be a convicted felon before all of the real criminals.
The Judge directed the next part to me. “Mr. Bateman, you can either refer to the victim as the victim, the alleged drug dealer or by his name. Anything else will not be tolerated. Do you understand?”
My jaw clenched so tight I thought I might crack a pearly white, but I nodded. There was no fucking way I was calling that piece of shit a victim. Adele was the only victim in this whole tragedy.
“Go on.”
“As I was saying. I went to the home of the alleged drug dealer, Darius Marshall, and threatened him. The alleged drug dealer was the boyfriend of my sister. It’s my understanding that he had a dispute with another alleged drug dealer. I threatened Darius to tell me where the other drug dealer was. The police had been looking for the other alleged dealer for two weeks and weren’t making any progress. I wanted to help. Darius refused to tell me where the guy was.”
“And why were the police looking for this other alleged drug dealer?”
I looked at the bench and then back at my sister. She looked broken. Taking a deep breath, I continued, “He raped my sister. To get even with Darius. And before he left her beaten and scarred, he told her he’d be back again.”
It was the first time the Judge’s face softened. “And what did you do when Darius Marshall refused to give you the information you wanted?”
It was a small victory, but the Judge finally stopped calling Darius the victim, too. “I attacked him.”
“Were any weapons involved in the attack?”
I looked to my attorney and back to the judge. “I don’t believe so, Your Honor?”
“You don’t believe so? Meaning you aren’t sure?”
“Well…no weapons were recovered at the scene, and I don’t recall having one with me. But, no, I can’t be sure.”
“And why is that Mr. Bateman?”
“Because I don’t remember most of the attack.”
“I see. What is the last thing that you are able to recall?”
I knew. But I damn sure didn’t want to repeat it out loud. She was so fragile already.
My lawyer whispered to me, “You need to do this, Chance.”
I cleared my throat. “Darius said something to me. And that’s the last thing I can recall.”
“And what is it that he said, Mr. Bateman?”
My attorney had warned me not to show anger. It took every ounce of willpower that I had to unclench my fists and speak. “He said…my sister was a crack whore, and she might as well have gotten the first one under her belt because she would be taking cock down her throat in exchange for a dime bag by next week.”
The judge looked sympathetic momentarily. “And do you know the nature of the injuries that Darius Marshall sustained?”
“As far as I’ve been told, he had a broken nose, a fractured eye socket, a concussion and a few broken ribs.”
“And you recall none of the actions that lead to these injuries?”
“No, Your Honor. I don’t. I remember what I already told you, and the next thing I can recall is him saying 1925 Harmon Street.”
“Alright then, Mr. Bateman. We’re almost done here. I have a few additional questions before we will break and then come back this afternoon for sentencing.”
I nodded.
“Do you regret your actions, Mr. Bateman?”
The last question was a bone of contention between my lawyer and me. While he didn’t outright tell me to lie, I could read between the lines. But I’d come this far. I was going to stand tall. Not three hours after Darius was carted away in an ambulance, the dealer that attacked Adele was arrested. I looked straight into the eyes of the Judge and told the honest to God’s truth. “No. I don’t regret my actions.”
It was nearly four by the time the Judge called us back into the Courtroom. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before speaking. “Mr. Bateman. Do you understand that as a result of your guilty plea, you may lose certain valuable civil rights such as the right to vote, the right to hold public office, the right to serve on a jury and the right to possess a firearm?”
