Workshop+Project+5

Brea Lobley Reading/Writing Workshop 7th period

Who am I? I am me, and that’s who I only know to be. When you look at me what do you see? A monster, killer, friend, trend setter? I am already judge by my skin tone, the way I dress, and my hairstyle. “Guilty until proven innocent” That’s why I’m in this hell hole being forced to rock an orange jumpsuit and fed the worst food. The man you see is not the criminal…. I feel more like the victim in this situation. Can’t you see this? The real man you are looking for is probably out there creating more crime. So many questions run through my brain and they deserve an answer. Is there any evidence that proves me guilty? Can you answer that? Now that I am captured and locked away my whole world has been turned upside down… mama writes, but won’t visit. She says it’s because she can’t bare seeing me like this, and I hate that she has to. Being on trial is the second hardest thing I ever had to do. (Being in jail is number one) when you’re on the stand it’s like you’re in the confessional, but all eyes are on you. You can’t ask any questions and everything you’re asked is the same but asked in a different way. You see they think I’m dumb, and can’t grasp on to anything that’s going on. When I’m on stand and they’re questioning me I sometimes just want to yell out “Stop asking me all these questions when you damn well it’s not me!” I also wish I could tell them all to get the fuck on, but that too would get me into a lot of trouble. My lawyer Alexis Pattson said for me not to worry and that I would be outta here in no time. I don’t believe what she says… I think most of it is complete bull shit, and it sounds utterly ridiculous. Already it’s been a rough ten days, forty-six hours, thirty- two minutes, and sixty-six seconds… why am I still in here? I guess beggars can’t be choosers. Life in the fast lane is defiantly not what I pictured it to be. At night I lie awake thinking about the so called crime I am accused for… I’m walking down the street to the store for my mom, and as usual I stop by Mr. Jones house to see if he wants anything right before I get to his house I here gun shots, and I enter the house and I see Mr. Jones lying on the ground. Next thing I know I become this big criminal. These past few days in jail have been the longest days of my life. It feels like it’s never ending, and like I’m never gonna get out of here. Forty-eight pushups and twenty two sit ups… I thought it would be good to keep up with my work out since there’s nothing else I can do. I met with my lawyer today… I keep trying to explain to her what it’s like being in here and that I need to get out of here, but I don’t think she really understands me. All she tells me is “Don’t worry” or “It will all be over soon.” It’s trial day fourteen and things are really starting to heat up. It’s my turn to take the stand… I don’t think I’m ready for this at all. My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. “Mr. Brown… can you please tell everyone in the court room today where you were on the day of the death of Mr. Jones?” I swallow hard and proceed with my answer. “I was walking down the street towards Mr. Jones’ complex.” The prosecutor paces back and forth and asks me another question. “Why were you walking towards the complex of Mr. Jones?” I rub my hands together and look out into the crowd “I was walking to the store… for my mother… and I usually stop by to see if Mr. Jones wanted anything.” The prosecutor walks a little closer to me. “Who is Mr. Jones to you?” I take a deep breath. “He is like a grandfather to me… I grew up around him, and if he ever needs anything I was always there to help him.” “What happens next…? Mr. Brown?” I start to play with my thumbs a little to calm my nerves down. “Before I get to Mr. Jones’ house I hear gun shots, so I quickly run to his house to make sure everything is ok.” “Was… everything… okay Mr. Brown?” I take another deep breath. “No… when I walked into the house… I found Mr. Jones on the floor in a puddle of his blood.” The prosecutor starts pacing around the room again. “Mr. Brown… what did you do after you found him?” “I walked over to Mr. Jones to see if he was still breathing.” “Was he?” I put my head down. “No… he wasn’t.” “What made you positive that he was dead?” I take another deep breath. “I checked his pulse.” “And what did you do after you found out that he was dead?” “There was nothing I could do.” The prosecutor smiles a little. “Would you like to elaborate on that statement?” “I couldn’t do anything because by time I got to the phone the police had already bust through the door… I was cuffed and put into the back of the squad car.” The prosecutor then shakes his head. “That will be all your honor.” He then takes his seat as my lawyer gets up, and starts to question me. “Were you able to explain what had just taken place at the time of the arrest?” I look directly at the prosecutor. “No… I was only able to explain everything in the interrogation room.” Pattson then shakes her head. “Were you able to get a good look at the men who you said actually fired the gun?” I think to myself for a moment… then I shake my head. “All I saw was two men running… both were African American… one had a cut under his left eye, one was taller than the other, and they both had on the same outfit with different colors.” “Which one had the cut under his eye? What colors were the outfits?” I rub the sweat off my forehead. “The taller on had the cut under his left eye. The shorter one was wearing red and black… the taller one was wearing blue and black.” Pattson gives me a look of reassurance. “Are you sure that you didn’t see anything else?” I begin to think. “Now that I think about it… the shorter man had possession of the gun, and the taller man was carrying a black bag.” “When and where did you see these men?” “I saw them after I entered the house… through the window.” She shakes her head. “Did you see what direction they were going?” “They were walking further down the complex…” “So are you saying that they live in the same complex as Mr. Jones?” I shake my head hard. “No… the complex that Mr. Jones lived in was for senior citizens.” Pattson turns to walk away. “That will be all your honor.” The judge then starts to speak. “The court may now recess until tomorrow… we will receive the closing statements, and the jury will make their decision.” Bam! The sound of the gavel hits the wood. When I look up I see my mother with tears in her eyes. I mouth to her everything is going to be okay, and they cuff me once again to take me back where I’m forced to reside… where I am not know by the name of Aaron Brown, but known by my prison number. I can’t say what will happen tomorrow… being wrongfully accused makes me feel less of a man. I’m in here rotting away for someone else’s crime. I need to get out of here… I’m in a place where I don’t belong. As soon as I get back to my cell I find my lawyer there waiting for me. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” I shake my head. “No…” “I have my closing statement tomorrow… I think that the jury believes you… I could see it in their face. The compassion they have for you. I think they know that you are innocent.” “I hope so.” She smiles. “I know so.” After that she gets up and walks away. I lay back in my bed and pray to god that something good will come out of tomorrow.         I take a deep breath as I figure out what to say to these people tomorrow. I’m under so much pressure because I know deep down inside that it’s not him, but the evidence proves that to be wrong… his foot print is in the puddle of blood…his finger prints are found on the victim, and on the phone. When the police came to arrest him they said blood was all over his hands, shirt, and pants. “It is now time for Ms. Pattson to give her closing statement.” I take a nice long breath as I walk to the front of the court room. “My client… the defendant Mr. Aaron Brown has came to this court room, and has been put on trial for the murder of Mr. Leroy S. Jones. I would like to ask the juries here today… why are we here? Why is my client… the defendant Mr. Aaron Brown being held accountable for a crime that he did not commit? It is not clear for everyone to see that Mr. Brown is a carrying and respectful young man with great ambitions? The court sees otherwise… why is that? I’ve gotten the chance to get to know Mr. Brown, and he’s quite the man to be around. He is so full of life and has a good head on his shoulders. So why must your judgment lead you on? Yes he was found at the crime scène, but did he procession of a gun? Did have procession of any weapon at that? Do you see the look of rage or wanting to kill someone? No… you don’t see any of this… for crying out loud the defendant stated that Mr. Jones was like a grandfather figure to him… if Mr. Jones needed anything he would be there for him. These false accusations do not need to be pinned against him. So pleas bare with me… think long and hard about your decision. Take into consideration that the defendant has suffered enough. What if that was your child sitting up there going against us? Think about having to go through the same troubles as Mr. Brown and his family. How does that make you feel? The man you see here in front of you today is not a man of crime and wrongdoing, but there is a man sitting in front of you who knows right from wrong, and does what he’s told. Thank you and god bless.” The jury gets up after I sit down. “Would the Jury like to state their decision?” a older woman in her forties stands up. “Yes your honor… we find the defendant Mr. Aaron Brown… Not guilty.” Once those words hit the air everyone cheered. It replays over and over in my head, and it feels good that my deed is done. Aaron walks over to me and hugs me tight. “Thank you for everything… I really appreciate it.” Hearing those words coming from Aaron makes me feel amazing. “You are more than welcome Aaron… thank you for seeing things through, and working with me.” Nothing makes you feel better than winning a case. Seeing that huge smile on Aaron’s face makes me feels good as well… he can now go home to his family, and get back on the right track. We don’t need kids like him locked away.