When Seymour Parks is found not guilty of the murder of his missing wife, he sees it as a chance to start over again, and maybe this time, do things right. But first, he's got a kid to unload to his in-laws who live half the world away. They've got...
The crowd gathered in the courtroom roared their disapproval.
Not guilty.
The judge shouted, "Silence in the courtroom!"
Not guilty.
He knew it! Because of a technicality, the judge had ordered the jury to toss out the evidence after it was determined that it had been obtained illegally. Detectives Mike Sabian and Barry Clarke glowered at the back of the courtroom.
Not guilty.
Therefore, dried blood recovered in a deep groove between the head of the hammer and the handle along with his fingerprints could not be used as evidence that he had murdered his wife. It was his hammer, for Pete's sake, so of course, his fingerprints would be all over it.
Not guilty.
The only possible witness could not give reliable testimony. And holy Moses, but they must have tried everything to find out what they could from his two-year-old son only to come up empty. But what did they expect? A damning testimony from the little turd saying he saw his father beat his mother with a hammer, wrap her up in a now-missing sheet, load her in the trunk of his car and bury her somewhere in the mountains? The kid couldn't even form the simplest words other than Mama, and sweepy. And ever since his mother's disappearance, he hadn't spoken a word.
Not guilty of the murder of Philomena "Mina" Parks.
Seymour Parks exhaled, before looking at the jury with a grateful expression on his face. Thank you, guys. All of you. Even that ugly bitch with the permanent smirk on her face. He could have sworn the woman hated him the moment she laid eyes on him and would surely have said yes, he's guilty, but no. A unanimous vote meant she said yes.
Sure, there could be appeals, but with his wife's family living in the Philippines, how were they going to pay the lawyer? In bucketloads of dried fish? Ha! He'd been the one sending money to them back home for the barest necessities, every text message asking for this or that, like a dowry he never expected paid in monthly installments. A few bucks here for the month's supply of rice, another few bucks there to fix a leaky roof. Each dollar went far in pesos, Mina had told him though he still had to pitch in because she didn't make much at the corner store where she worked as a part-time cashier. The minimum wage she made was a pittance, like hobby money to him, though it didn't make a difference to Mina. To her, it was money to send home—all of it, and when she ran short because Mama had to go to the doctor or nephew Juan needed books for school, he'd help out, too. Seymour didn't really mind it at first, but in the end he did. He married her, not her damn family. She'd been bleeding him dry since he married her and brought her to the States, and accused accused of murdering her, allegedly with a blunt instrument like his hammer and then hiding her body. He'd been behind bars ever since, the only suspect in her disappearance and alleged murder until trial.
They had no body! Just his hammer with a speck of her blood between the head and the handle that the detectives discovered during what Seymour's lawyer declared was an illegal search. They had had no warrant when they found it. Ha! Served them right to hear the judge throw the only piece of evidence that could have sent him to death row. No soup for you, Sabian and Clarke!
Seymour gave the jury one more look of appreciation before turning to face his lawyer and thanking him. He heard the judge say something about custody of his now three-year-old son who'd been in foster care ever since his mother's murder, though this time, Seymour barely heard the judge's words, his attention focused on the young woman sitting a few pews behind him. Damn, but that girl was hot. No bar fine needed here. There was certainly something to be said about women who liked men behind bars. This one had been writing letters to him since she saw his face in the papers. She liked them dangerous.
"Congratulations, Mr. Parks. They'll be sending your son over this afternoon," his lawyer said, grinning from ear to ear. Doherty was one of those court-appointed lawyers one got when they couldn't afford one, and damn if the kid just won his first big case.
"Great," Seymour nodded. "How am I supposed to take care of him by myself with her still missing?" She could be dead, or she could be gallivanting around town somewhere with her new man. Whatever, she was missing.
"I'm sure Child Services will help you there, Mr. Parks," Doheny replied, before his brow furrowed and he continued. "Did you say you were going to fly him back home to the Philippines? Do you think that's a good idea right now?"
Seymour shrugged. "Why not? She has a big family, and there's only me here. And I've got to find work eventually. Who's gonna keep an eye on him then? You?"
The kid was Mina's idea, not his. She thought little Seymour (she even gave him his name) would guarantee her safety from the beatings. Boy, was she so wrong. Too bad she thought she could file for divorce, thinking she could be just like the American women he'd grown to detest. He'd seen the online searches she'd done in the browser history. How to file for divorce. What is domestic abuse? Who gets custody of a minor?
Let her family back home take care of him now, Seymour thought as he watched Doheny gather the folders from the desk and slip them into his briefcase. The moment that judge's gavel sounded and the words came out from the jury foreman's lips, Seymour Maury Parks was a free man in every sense of the word. And as the woman in the third row cast him a look that assured him that all her visits in jail weren't for nothing, he pushed all other thoughts about the trial away. There were other, more important things to deal with.
Seymour needed to get laid.
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