"Our trials, our sorrows, and our grieves develop us."
—Orison Swett Marden
LISA
"Do you understand, Ms. Manoban?" my lawyer, Dillon DiMarco, asked me.
I pulled my gaze from my son for a moment. He was chewing on his own fist with not a care in the world as he sat in Victoria's lap. However, Mina held onto one his hands. I tried not to make my blatant disapproval of that known. The family knew how I felt about her, but now was not the time to harp on my preferences. I had him in my sights and that was all that mattered. He was like a magnet to my eyes, I couldn't keep them from him for more than a few seconds. He looked like a mini Mr. Clean in a suit; his bald head even had a glint.
"Ms. Manoban?" DiMarco asked again, and the army of lawyers all paused their shuffling to stare at me. "I know this can be quite daunting. But I will do everything in my power to get you out of here."
Everything in his power. If only he knew how worthless his power was to me.
"Don't smile or laugh because the jury will think I'm not taking the situation seriously. Don't be too serious or cold, because then they will think I'm heartless. Find a balance and set my face to it. Yes, I understand." I didn't know how that was humanly possible, but I understood.
Turning back to Ethan, Victoria took one of his chubby arms and made him wave at me. His eyes stared directly at me and he smiled so wide I couldn't help but smile back. I'm not sure if he knew who I was or if he was just a happy baby, either way, seeing him made life worth living again. Victoria grinned as well, then turned to face me and I shook my head at the black T-shirt she wore with my face on it. Nickhun must have loved that one. She looked healthier than the last time I saw her, but she still had a scarf on her head.
Nickhun rolled his eyes at me before he unzipped his jacket to show me that he was wearing one as well. Oh God. Thankfully my father and Bambam had enough sense to wear suits.
But when I took better look at them I noticed the buttons pinned to the lapels of their jacket suits. It seemed as if the only person not wearing 'Free Lisa' paraphernalia was Mina. In fact, she didn't even look as if she wanted to be here. Her hair was pulled back making her face look icier than normal. She shook her head at me before returning her attention to my son. I wanted to snap her ugly neck, but again, it was not the time, nor the place.
My mother pointed to my neck signaling me to fix my tie. She and Victoria had dropped off a brand new suit for me, along with a deep green tie. It was odd how even with all the clothing I had on, I still felt naked without my ring on. It had been taken when I was arrested, and I wouldn't be able to get my personal effects back until after this sham of a trial was over. I fixed the tie as she directed, and she smiled and gave me a thumbs up. Sometimes we were so Brady Bunch it made me sick.
The entire family was here...all but one. Looking towards the door, I noticed for the first time all the cameras directed at me. There had to be at least twelve leading news stations here, covering 'Lisa Manoban; The Billionaire Murderer.'
"Show time," DiMarco said, as he buttoned up his suit jacket.
I looked at him with a raised brow.
This was a show to you?
"Please rise, the Honorable Judge Kelly Weston presiding," the bailiff called out, and we all stood.
Fuck.
She was a short woman with simple features and stringy dark hair. People who were short always overcompensated in other ways. Most likely she was a hardass.
"Good morning, please be seated," she said, sounding almost bored. "Okay we're on the record, case number 67F82C5 State of Illinois vs. Lisa Manoban. All parties are here and present, is there anything else we need to take up before we call the jury in?"
DiMarco, who was still standing, shook his head. "Not at this time, Your Honor."
"We're ready to begin as well," the prosecutor said.
He looked like a grease ball, with his slicked back hair and alligator shoes. I knew Victoria and my mother were making some sort of face at him, and I wished I could look back at them to see it.
"Okay, bring them in," Judge Weston said.
I wasn't sure who thought these people were a jury of my peers. It looked as if someone had picked them up at last call in some bar...or at a Wal-Mart at three in the morning.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I hope you all have no problems being here. I just need to ask you one question. Did any of you read, listen or hear about anything regarding this case?"
"No." All of them shook their heads and they were all lying...maybe they were my peers after all.
"Okay then." She nodded over to the prosecutor, and DiMarco, along with his lawyers, all sat down.
"Once again, good morning ladies and gentlemen." He pressed a button on his laptop and a photo of Jen in her wedding dress, smiling brightly and looking happy, appeared on the projector screen. It made me want to laugh because at that time in our relationship she'd wanted to kill me. But the photo captured her beautifully beyond the lie.
"I want you to take a good look at Ms. Manoban, that woman sitting there, one of the daughter to the infamous billionaire Manoban family, and remember that she is not one of you. You see, Ms. Manoban hasn't worked a day in her life. She's never had to worry about bills or food or even safety. Everything has always just been handed...no, thrown at her. Women especially.
"Go back only two and half years ago to her life without her wife, Jennie Kim. Party after party, girl after girl, almighty freedom. Lisa Manoban did whatever she wanted, whomever she wanted. No woman lasted on her arm for more than a month before she threw her away. Then poof, she's married to the beautiful Ms. Jennie Kim, and you'd think that would be enough. You'd think she would be happy. But a person like her can never be tied down without repercussions. Past girlfriends of her are either dead or their lives have been so altered that they cannot function as they once normally did; she breaks them and then throws them away."
For the love of Christ, someone needed to put one between his eyes.
"Does this sound like a person ready to be married? A person ready to start a family? No. Lisa Manoban did what all the Manoban men do; they get married while young, a tradition.
"The evidence today will show that Ms. Manoban wanted to return to her previous life. She wanted the parties, the girls, the fun, and she would do anything to get it. She couldn't live the immoral life she wanted to with the devoutly religious and beloved Jennie. When she became pregnant with their first child, Lisa panicked and tried to get rid of it because she felt trapped. Jennie was hospitalized with a stab wound to the stomach, and she'd claimed that she fell down the stairs with a knife."
FUCK YOU. How dare you? I screamed in my thoughts.
The pain of losing our first child still stung. We'd lost our child...
From the corner of my eye I noticed that Mina stood up, took Ethan out of Victoria's arms and walked over to the exit.
"Sadly for Ms. Manoban, Jennie didn't die. The baby was gone, but she did not die. However, that wasn't the last time Jennie was hospitalized. In fact, she had taken a gunshot wound to shoulder. She had been in car accident. There was no explanation. How does a car accident equate to a gunshot wound? Coincidentally, Jennie was pregnant again. This time, Ms. Manoban knew what to do. The way to get her freedom back, was to get rid of her. Only moments after giving birth, Jennie disappeared. The only people who could have been there were her doctors and Ms. Manoban herself."
You are going to pay. I was going to make sure you spent your entire life regretting this one long ass fucking opening statement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, her blood was found on her clothing and her boots. Witnesses will testify to her anger, hospital logs will show Jennie's suffering. Do not let that woman in the fancy suit fool you. Lisa Manoban murdered her wife. We don't have body; we wish we did so that her son could at least have that. But money can buy you a lot of twisted things in this world. Lisa Manoban wanted to wipe Jennie off the face of the earth, and she thought she could get away with it. Don't let her walk away from this. Jennie Ruby Jane Kim-Manoban needs justice. Baby Ethan Manoban needs justice." He turned and walked to his seat next to his proud peers.
He's using my fucking son?
The blood in my veins felt as though it would boil over at any moment. What made it worse was the fact that the jury actually looked as though they were believing his bullshit. They all looked towards the screen, staring at her picture sadly. He let it hang there for a few seconds before he finally clicked it off.
DiMarco stood, walking forward, his bald head shining as he wiped the corners of his mouth and shook his head. "That opening statement you've just heard is the very essence of this case; no facts, all assumptions, made against my client, Lisa Manoban, because of two things: she's rich, and she has a past. That is why the state of Illinois wants to lock her away for life, for something she did not do. Ms. Manoban has never shied away from her past. In fact, she and her wife joked about it openly to the press. The difference with Jen was the fact that Lisa loves her.
"Ms. Manoban told me not to call her Jennie because she hates that. The prosecution doesn't know her. If they did, they'd know that Jen was a proud owner of a gun and often went hunting. She enjoyed opera though she couldn't sing to save her life, but did anyway just because Lisa Manoban told her she loved her voice. Every last person who is close to Jen stands by my client; they believe she is innocent. All the evidence the prosecution will attempt to present is nothing but circumstantial at best.
"There is no smoking gun. There is no crime scene. This is just another case of the Chicago Police Department failing to protect its citizens and searching for a scapegoat. I ask all of you; do you really trust the police in this city? After everything they've failed to do?" Turning back to the screen he clicked and again a photo of Jen appeared.
"This photo is upsetting, I cannot imagine what my client must be feeling knowing that her wife is still out there, but she cannot search for her. She can't help to find her wife because the Chicago Police Department gave up their search and pointed a finger at her. This isn't justice. This is a witch hunt, and I will not let an innocent woman be burned at the stake for the prosecution and the state department to give themselves a pat on the back. Tell them to do their jobs. Tell them to find Jen, because Lisa Manoban did not kill her wife. Lisa Manoban is innocent. She and her family need justice."
He confidently walked back to our area before taking a seat beside me.
Staring at her photo, the lump in my throat wouldn't disappear. Turning away, I looked at the door. People came in and some left. But none were her.
Where the fuck are you, Jen?
"Please state your name for the record," the prosecutor told the blonde haired woman on the stand.
"Dr. Amy Lewis," she leaned into the microphone.
"Dr. Lewis, you were Jennie Manoban's doctor, correct?"
"Yes. I was there during her first pregnancy."
"Can you take us through the incident that happened the very first time you met Ms. Manoban two years ago?"
She looked at me and then glanced over at the jury. "That night, her wife came in with the stab wound to the stomach. She was in surgery, and Ms. Manoban was angry. She took me by the neck and slammed me into a wall."
Fuck me.
DiMarco sat up a little straighter in his chair, and flipped through his papers.
"Did Ms. Manoban say anything to you?"
"Objection!" DiMarco stood. "Relevance?"
"Your Honor, Dr. Lewis is here to testify to Ms. Manoban's character, I do believe that is relevant." He glared back.
"I agree," the judge said looking to DiMarco. "Overruled."
"I'm sorry, Dr. Lewis, as you were saying, what did Ms. Manoban say to you?"
Nodding, her hands reached for her throat. "She said something along the lines of 'I will rip your head from your shoulders, you classless, low life, idiotic bitch.' That she owned the hospital and owned this city."
Oh that bitch.
The jury turned to me with shock and distaste coloring their eyes.
The prosecutor looked to the jury. "So she threatened you?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe she meant what she said?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, Dr. Lewis. Your witness," the prosecutor said to DiMarco.
Rising from the chair, he fixed his jacket. "That must have been scary. Did you call the police, Dr. Lewis?"
Leaning back, all I could do was glare into her eyes. She looked trapped as she tried her best to look away from me.
"No, I didn't."
"But you just told these people that she threatened you, that you truly believed what she said, why didn't you call the police?"
"I...I don't know."
"You don't know? Why don't you know you? It seems simple; someone threatens your life, you call the police."
"Objection! Badgering the witness!" The prosecutor all but jumped out of his seat.
"Sustained. Mr. DiMarco please allow the witness to answer your questions," the judge said, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. If this was "badgering the witness," Dr. Lewis should find religion and fast, because after this was over, I had no doubt we would be meeting again.
"Of course, Your Honor," DiMarco said. "Dr. Lewis, while Mrs. Manoban was losing her baby, fighting for her life, were you or were you not trying to flirt with Ms. Manoban?"
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes almost fell out of her head.
"I...I...No...I..."
"So you did not place your hand on Ms. Manoban's arm and offer to do 'anything'?" he pushed.
She swallowed as she shook her head. "She may have misunderstood, I was trying to comfort her—"
"Instead of helping her wife," he cut her off.
"There were more than enough people working on her."
"Were you assigned to Mrs. Manoban's case then?"
She sighed loudly. "No, I was in the wing when she came in—"
"So you approached her?"
"Yes."
"Did she seem distraught?"
"Yes, that's why I went to her!" she snapped quickly. "She looked like she was going to break down at any moment."
"Because she loved her wife and was worried?"
She stopped for a second and nodded. "Yes. I guess so."
"Dr. Lewis, did Ms. Manoban threaten anyone else at the hospital?"
Her head dropped as she stared at her hands. "No."
"These are Mrs. Manoban's X-Rays taken after she lost her baby, correct?" DiMarco clicked, and on to the screen x-rays of Jen's chest, hand and legs appeared.
Dr. Lewis looked slightly confused, as she leaned in to see before she nodded. "Yes, those are hers."
"And how do you know?"
"The old breaks in her left radius, right tibia, and long with the healed breaks in her proximal phalanx."
"Proximal phalanx?"
"Those are the bones in her hands."
"Yes, of course. And what about her rib cage?" he asked as he clicked to another picture.
"More of the same, healed breaks along fifth, sixth, and seventh ribs."
"How long ago was this?"
She shrugged. "I'm not a forensic anthropologist, but I would say anywhere between twelve to fourteen years ago for some of them."
"At which time Ms. Manoban could not possibly have—"
"Objection! Beyond the scope!" the prosecutor yelled. "There is no way Dr. Lewis can testify to that."
Are you fucking kidding me? She can say I scared her but she can't fucking testify using her bloody medical degree?
"Your Honor—"
"Sustained. Please keep it on the facts, Mr. DiMarco," the judge stated, and I was torn between screaming and taking a bat to her little head.
Maybe both.
"Why would someone have those types of breaks, Dr. Lewis? Could it possibly be that she was a fighter?"
"Objection—"
"No further questions, Your Honor," DiMarco said as he walked back over to me. The good doctor quickly got off the stand, trying her best not to look at me.
"Your Honor, the defense would like to call to the stand Kim Hanbin," DiMarco said reading from his paper.
I wasn't even aware that any of our men were in the room, but there he was, dressed in his Sunday best. It was odd how everyone seemed to look the same. I'd been away for five months, and the only two people who looked different were Ethan and myself.
DiMarco stepped forward again. "Please state your name for the record."
"Kim Hanbin."
"Thank you, Mr. Kim. I'll get right to it, how long have you worked for the Kim family?"
"A little over a decade." He looked bored.
"So you would know why she was so badly hurt?"
"Yes, I can testify to being the reason for at least one of her broken hands," he snickered.
"You broke her hand?"
"More like she broke it against my jaw once."
She'd probably done it more than once.
"Was she violent? Why did she hit you?" he asked him before looking to the jury.
"We trained together. She spent years learning to defend herself. Her father didn't want her to be a victim for any reason."
"And if Ms. Manoban had put a hand on her..."
"Jen would be sitting in her place right now."
"You have a lot of confidence in her."
"Objection! Is there a question in there somewhere?"
This motherfucking prosecutor was working my last fucking nerve.
"Excuse me, Your Honor, let me rephrase," DiMarco replied. "Why do you have so much confidence in Jen?"
"She's a fighter, always has been, always will be. She isn't some weak abused Stepford wife that allows her wife to take advantage of her. And if in some twisted reality Ms. Manoban was hurting her, I can say without a doubt that Lisa would not be sitting here today."
Well that's comforting, and here I thought I'd been making progress with her people.
I hear the door open, and the clicking of heels along the ground, and the hope in me built up as I fought with myself to not turn around. It wasn't her. It was never her. There was no point in turning back.
"No further questions. Thank you, Mr. Kim."
As he sat down, the prosecutor stood. "We have no questions for this witness, Your Honor. But we would like to call Officer Anthony Scooter to the stand."
It's like a who's who of everyone hates Lisa.
I had no doubt that this would be entertaining.
He sat tall and proud as if he were expecting the city to give him a fucking medal. I wanted chop off his head and stick it on a motherfucking flag pole.
"Officer Scooter, you were one of the arresting officers on scene, correct?"
"Yes, I was. I was also the point man on the case."
Keep talking, asshole, you're burying yourself six feet deep and you don't even know it.
"Why did you suspect Ms. Manoban?"
"Ms. Manoban did her best to avoid talking to us. Then I found a connection between her past girlfriends and it became increasingly clear that Ms. Manoban was hiding something. There was blood belonging to Mrs. Manoban on her boots, along with three guns, in her bedroom alone."
What, they'd only found three? Nickhun must have locked down everything else.
"Surely you questioned her about your findings, what did she say?"
"She said nothin'. Her hotshot lawyer came in and she didn't say a word to anyone. She looked dazed."
"Dazed?"
"Yeah, like she was high or drunk—"
"Objection! Speculation." DiMarco stood.
"No further questions," the prosecutor replied, saving us all the time.
"Officer Scooter, is it true that this isn't the first accusation you've directed towards my client and her family?" DiMarco asked.
"I don't understand the question," he replied.
Really this was the man everyone trusted to tell the whole truth?
"Do you have a vendetta against the Manobans, Officer Scooter?" DiMarco snapped causing the jurors to shift in their seats.
"No. I just believe the rich shouldn't get away with murder. They aren't untouchable, no matter how badly they want to be," he snarled, glaring into my eyes.
"So it's the rich you have a problem with."
"I ain't have a problem with anyone. You do a crime, you have to pay the price. Simple."
"And you've just been waiting to make Ms. Manoban pay. You chose routes close their homes to patrol, you are always one of the first people at the scene when it comes to their family, are you not?"
He nodded. "Yeah, sure."
"In police terms, you're still a rookie, correct?"
"I have almost two years under my belt."
"And in those two years, your department has been suspected of bribery, and the crime rate has risen, correct?"
"Yes." He crossed his arms, not wanting to back down.
"You will do anything to clean up the streets and you believe that all stems from the Manobans?"
"They have this city under their control, and because of that, people look the other way."
"You, a police officer, would look the other way? Your people on the force would look the other way?"
No answer.
DiMarco turned to the jury. "These men are supposed to protect us. But he says they look away? From what? How did you, Officer Scooter, manage to accuse and get a prosecution of Ms. Manoban, when so many others, wiser than you, have found no evidence that my client ever did anything wrong?"
"A lot of men have tried. We've lost too many good men, many of them are jaded and just want to get their pay and go home to their families in peace."
If he was smart, he would have done the same thing.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it," he said to the jury. "The police department is tired of doing its job. Which means they were too tired to find Mrs. Manoban."
"Objection!"
But he didn't stop. "They were jaded, sick and tired of losing too many men so they pointed to easiest exit—"
"Objection!—"
"They wanted to go back to the donuts and coffee. Who cares if an innocent man rots in prison? They're tired!"
"Your Honor!"
"Mr. DiMarco!" The judge banged on the gavel. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please strike the previous statements from the record. Mr. DiMarco, you are walking on very thin ice."
"My apologies, Your Honor, I'm just a little bit tired," he said, and if I could've, I would have laughed.
The court stilled.
"Well then, would you like an hour and a half recess for lunch now?" the judge asked the jury, and they all nodded, which meant I was going back to the tombs underneath the court.
"I want to go on the stand," I whispered to DiMarco as the bailiff and another guard came up behind me, handcuffs at the ready.
He looked at me like I really was mad.
"Ms. Manoban—"
"Only the guilty and the weak sit back. I'm neither of those things. I was telling you I am going on the stand, I wasn't asking your permission." He worked for me, not the other way around.
"It's your trial," he muttered, shaking his head at me.
Nodding, I glanced back at the door, and once again people came and people went, but the one person I needed was still nowhere to be found. I wanted to see Ethan again but after Mina left, she never came back in.
Turning, they led me out of the courtroom. The holding cells under the courthouse felt like a tomb; dark, damp, and probably infested with mold. There was one toilet, a bench drilled into stonewall in the corner, and not much else. Luckily, no one else was there.
"Someone will have your lunch brought down," the bailiff said as he locked me inside.
I took a seat on the bench, as there was nothing else to do.
She's not coming. I didn't want to believe it. It hurt to believe it. Part of me wanted her to be hurt, to be captured like Nickhun had said, at least then she would have a good reason. But this...five months and not a word, how could she abandon us? If she didn't care for me, then at least I thought she would've come back for Ethan.
But then again, she never wanted kids.
Maybe this was her way out. She had money and properties hidden all over the world, and she could hide out for the rest of her life without worry.
"Think any harder and you might pop a vein," Victoria smiled, as she stood outside my cell with a bag of fries and what smelled like a burger.
"How did you get down here?" I asked, checking for the guard.
"Cancer. If it didn't suck so much it would be great. You can get people to do almost anything. Now eat." She stuffed the bag and the drink through the bars.
"Thanks, Victoria." I wasn't hungry, but I doubted that she would let me off.
She glanced behind her. "I really have to go before he comes back. But whatever you're thinking, stop."
"Victoria—"
"Doubting is a sign that you're at the finish line. You've been fighting for months and you're at the end. Stop thinking about it, we will push through this and come out at the other end whole. We always do." She smiled once more before doing her best to sneak out. She, like the rest of my family, was crazy, but you had to love them.