The Knight in Leather Armor

ch.59 Suits and stripes

“Liam James Payne, to the stands,” Louis’ father called.

I stared at Liam, completely bewildered. Why? Why? I asked him with my eyes. He looked down, a mix of shame and anger that seemed permanently etched across his once golden features.

“How are you Mr. Payne?” Mr. Tomlinson asked with a cheerful grin.

“Good, thank you,” Liam lied. He was not ok. He was not himself. I could feel it. 

“Mr. Payne, you attend Middleton High school with Angela Lorenzo, correct?”

“Yes, sir. We are both juniors,” Liam replied.

“How long have you known Angela?”

Liam glanced at me. “About ten years now.”

“In that time, did you ever see her with the defendant: Mr. Harold Styles?” he pursed.

“Yes, on a number of occasions,” Liam replied honestly.  

The lawyer motioned for Liam to continue. I swallowed hard, unsure what Liam might say.

“I’ve seen him pick her up from school,” he recalled.

Then he was quiet. His warm brown eyes grew dark and hard and I almost didn’t recognize him.

“Is there something more you would like to share?” Tomlinson grinned slightly, knowing there was a good deal more. It was the same cruel grin Louis had. 

Liam nodded. But, when he looked at me, I had no idea who he was.

“I offered to give her a ride home one night after she finished her shift at her uncle’s restaurant, but the defendant barged in and forced her to go with him,” he answered quickly, as if out of breath.

I took a deep breath, relieved that he wasn’t going to talk about Harry beating him the other night at the restaurant.

“What did you do?” Tomlinson asked with wide eager blue-black eyes, gleaming with the same malice as Louis’.

“I tried to stop him, but he looked dangerous” Liam tried to explain.

“You were afraid?” the judge interrupted.

“And what about for her?” the judge urged. She looked slightly angered.

“Yes, I was afraid for her, too, but they left before I could stop them” Liam explained quickly as some people in the crowd whispered to each other.

“You were at Mr. Tomlinson’s birthday party, too, weren’t you?” the lawyer redirected the interrogation.

“Yes. I saw them both there. Then-then Angela disappeared. And so did he,” Liam spoke into his lap.

The court room rustled and voices muffled in argument with each other. The judge banged her mallet for order.

***

“Harold Edward Styles, please rise,” she announced.

The entire room was silent. They glared at Harry as if he were the prisoner about to be thrown into the Coliseum’s pit of death- for their enjoyment. I watched him as he slowly made his way to the stands. He was hurt. He was in so much pain and no one cared because they had labeled him with orange. They had labeled him as the monster.

“Do you solemnly state to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?” the judge asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes, your honor,” his spoke in his raspy voice.

"You were unable to provide aa lawyer, so the state of New Jersey has provided the best for you, Mr. Styles," the judge explained with the wave of her mallet.

"Mr. Tomlinson, proceed," the judge stated.

I shook my head and swallowed painfully. Tomlinson was no better than Harry's inmates.

“Do you go by Harold or Harry?” Tomlinson asked randomly.

“Harry.”

“Well that’s a shame, I like Harold better,” he smirked.  A few people chuckled in the crowd.

“Harold, my records indicate that you are 21 years of age. Your birthdate is February 1st, 1992. Harold, you have a long history of crimes: in 2005, you were arrested for manslaughter. In 2008, you were charged with armed robbery. In 2011, you were convicted for the possession and sale of Marijuana and Cocaine,” he read out, shaking his head of thinning grey-brown hairs all the while.

The way he read his file was like he was recalling his whole life, but only the things he has done wrong, not everything he has suffered, not the fear or the loss or the hopelessness, just a dry grocery list of black and white crimes.

Harry looked down; he was ashamed of the truth. My heart ached to run to him and wrap my arms around his broken body and bruised face.

“You killed Desmond Styles when you were 13 years of age. That man was your father. Is this correct?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

The court room gasped and stared at him with fear and contempt.

“Desmond Styles was an abusive alcoholic. He used to beat my mother. He--” Harry tried to explain, but the crowd grew boisterous again.

“Settle down folks,” the judge spoke, hitting her mallet.

The room was quiet again. The judge watched Harry’s face carefully. His green eyes were wide as honesty gleamed through. She looked down at his records.

“With all due respect, how am I supposed to move on if my past is constantly dangled in front of me, blinding me from making better of myself?” Harry asked with a sweet innocence, begging for the world to see his view from the outside.  

Tomlinson was quiet.

“You can never evade your past,” the judge muttered calmly.  

The room was silent.

“Mr. Tomlinson, sir, I have already been convicted for those crimes,” Harry reasoned innocently. “Sir” echoed in my head. Tomlinson was no “sir” he was a corrupt man, a coward who hid behind his wealth and with an equally as slimy son.

“Yes, I am aware of that,” he replied tersely. But with your history, a sexual assault would make the cherry on top, don’t you think?” he grinned.

“I would never hurt her!” Harry’s voice grew louder. Of all the people in the room-- Louis, his friends, Carlo, Tomlinson sr.-- Harry was being charged for hurting me. He sat there completely overwhelmed with the anger and frustration that painted him with orange stripes, labeling him as the monster.   

I stared at the real criminal, who sat smugly with the rest of the crowd, with his black tux and check book that gave him his way. He winked at me, as if already having won the case.

The crowd grew unruly again. The judge banged her mallet to quiet down them down.