Elaina Blackwood is an 18 year old soon to be college student juggling two jobs and could always use the extra cash.
And the members of Los Santos find their personal responsibilities coinciding with their duties to the gang.
Does Elaina need Los...
I cried 'till I couldn't cry, another heart attack If I lay on the floor, maybe I'll wake up And I don't pick up when you call 'Cause your voice is a gun Every word is a bullet hole Shot a hole in the sun If I never look up maybe I'll never notice
October 4th, 2012
The State of California Vs. Cortez Blackwood
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It was quiet, really quiet. The sound of rustling papers permeated the air. The bailiff cleared his throat, "Please rise. The Court of the Second Judicial Circuit, Criminal Division, is now in session, the Honorable Judge Henry Santana presiding." A large man in a black gown entered the room, his domineering form looming on a platform making his presence known. I squeezed my mothers hand harder, this was really happening. Judge Santana took a seat, his arm outstretched partly, signaling to the court, "Everyone but the jury may be seated, Mr. Dominguez, please swear in the jury." The baliff cleared his throat, slowly walking towards the jury, "Please raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will truly listen to this case and render a true verdict and a fair sentence as to this defendant?" All at once they stoically muttered, "I do." The baliff nodded, "You may be seated." The judge pressed his hands together interlocking his fingers, he looked to the group of people that would ultimately decide my fathers fate, "Members of the jury, your duty today will be to determine whether the defendant is guilty or not guilty based only on facts and evidence provided in this case. The prosecution has the burden of proving the guilt of the defendant beyond a reasonable doubt. This burden remains on the prosecution through the trial. The prosecution must prove that a crime was committed and that the defendant is the person who committed the crime. However, if you are not satisfied of the defendant's guilt to that extent, then reasonable doubt exists and the defendant must be found not guilty." The judge looked down, grabbing handfuls of papers sliding them one behind the other, "Mr. Dominguez, what is today's case?" His voice was loud as he said the words that made my stomach churn, "Your honor, today's case is the state of California Vs. Cortez Blackwood." The judge nodded, "Is the prosecution ready?" Two people seated at the table to my right stood up, "Yes, your honor," they said in unison, and sat back down. The judge nodded, "Is the defense ready?" A woman seated next to my father stood up, "yes, your honor," she said sternly, and sat back down. The judge leaned back in his chair motioning towards the opposing council, "You may begin." One of the people from the prosecutor's table stood up, he walked towards the front turning his gaze to and from both judge and jury, and began to speak, "Your honor, members of the jury, my name is Prosecutor James Tudor and I and my partner are representing the state of California in this case. We intend to prove Mr. Cortez Blackwood's guilt in this case, we hope that you find Cortez Blackwood guilty on the charges of first degree murder against David Blackwood, thank you." The judge spoke, "Prosecutor, you may call your first witness." The trial carried on, the man that set dad up took the stand, this smug grin set on his face. He told them how he got the call that David Blackwood was missing from police protective custody, and that he asked around for places he might be, and how he got the warehouse down as one of the locations, that he entered the building and saw my father standing over my uncle with a knife. "There was blood everywhere, a truly horrible and obscene sight," he replied shaking his head. My jaw clenched, baring my knuckles into a closed fist, I pressed my arms to my side, taking in slow breaths watching everything unfold. Only four people in this world knew the truth. My father faced forward, never making a single move, never saying a single word. He accepted it, accepted he'd be going to jail for a long time. How do you fight something like this? The prosecutors office offered no deal given the details of the case, a man was brutally beaten and murdered, that's all they knew. My father expected none either way. The only thing he could do on the stand was lie. "My brother gave me the call that he wanted to talk, that he escaped custody because he didn't want to seem like a rat, that there had been a misunderstanding. I went to the warehouse, my brother at first explained he was being used, he was being held because he wasn't giving up any info on crimes I supposedly committed, as well as supposed affiliations I wasn't even apart of, then he explained he was in hiding and needed some money. I explained I had none, he got angry. Told me he just risked everything to keep everything a secret, when there were no secrets to keep, and that he might be inclined to go say anything they wanted him too. What's the point of risking everything for a brother that can't even lend me some money for a fresh start?" My father said passively, his face calm. My mother looked down, tears falling down her cheeks. She cupped her hand to her mouth quietly sobbing. Elaina wasn't here, of course she wasn't. She loved uncle David. That piece of shit monster, she loved him with all her heart. Mother begged her to come, in support. "I can't mom, I'm sorry... I'm still processing that he would kill him, over money.. because he said some things? His own brother!" She once said.
