“Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.”
~Ray Bradbury
-Monday, January 23rd. 10:15am.
The snowy morning haze down on the New York district court, the temperature as low as 3 °F. The weather is awfully colder than the deepest part of a butchers refrigerator. Visions are blurred by light white flakes precipitating from the sky. Every breath released is escorted by exhaled breath condensate.
Bodies clinging onto winter coats. Snow boots sink into snow packs as people struggle to walk on the frozen ice crystals covering the earth. But the unfriendly weather didn't stop reporters from prowling the courtyard, seizing every opportunity to question everyone who showed up for the cases in court.
"Your honour, the defendant would like to take the stand."
The judge nods in approval. The court enforcement officer escorts Allison to the witness stand. People murmur lowly in the gallery. This is in fact the moment they have been waiting for, it's Allison's first hearing after withdrawing her initial plea of not guilty.
Allison's legs reluctantly leads her to the witness stand, while her head spin in thoughts. She turns to face the court. She lift her eyes to take a quick glance throughout the courtroom. A small rush of relief hits her when she sees Chandelier and Becky sitting on the last row. She quickly look away, unable to stand the gaze in the eyes of her two best friends. She wonder what could be going through their minds. Are they wondering why she shot Mr Jean-Pierre?
Of course they are. Who wouldn't?
She look pass Britney and Katherine. Her heart tells her they are definitely judging her. Perhaps so are everyone in the courtroom. She stops herself from looking at the bench on the first row in the gallery. She couldn't look at her mother. Allison fight to hold back the tears in her eyes. She could imagine the question on everyone's mind, why did she pull the trigger?
Even she cannot answer that question. She has no idea what came over her. Is she going crazy?
Allison shudder when her breath came out unsteady. She mumble about not wanting to go to jail. She should be sent to a therapy, and not to jail.
"Could you please state your name to the court?" The firm voice of the court clerk draws Allison out of her thoughts.
"Uh, Allison. Allison Kringle."
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"I do." Allison say in all sincerity.
"Please be seated." The clerk wave to the stand.
Allison sits. The defense attorney walks to the open space, his left hand fiddling with his tie. He gives her a small nod of encouragement to which she replies with a weary smile. "How do you feel today?"
Shaking off the hostile feeling of anxiousness, she clench her fists by her sides. "I feel uh, a little anxious. And uh, a lot perplexed with the dawning of this reality."
"When you say dawning of this reality, could you elaborate what that mean?"
"Uh, for one, I'm here in court today, charged for a crime I can only vaguely remember. Waking up to this actuality where my memories are fragments of blind spots is a lot to take in." Allison sniffle.
"If your memories are in fragments, do you think you should be charged with homicide?"
"Objection, call for speculation." The prosecutor argue.
"Sustained."
The defense attorney continues mindlessly. "Miss Allison, can you tell the court what you recall prior to the day of the party?"
"I remember the day before the party, I had an intense preparation for a shoot and also cheerleading rehearsals. I didn't get much sleep the night before the party. I remember getting dressed, and I drove myself to the party. I met a couple of friends and colleagues. I had some drinks and danced with Coach Vincent. A little later I was beginning to feel lightheaded, which I thought was probably from lack of sleep over the days. I uh, think I had a mental breakdown which caused me to hallucinate around the time Mr Jean-Pierre was about to give a speech."
"Do you remember what you hallucinated about?"
"Yes." Allison nods.
"Could you tell us what you saw?"
"I, saw my mother. She was standing there, right beside me. And I was surprised to see her, I asked how she got in. She said she needed to tell me something."
"And what did she tell you?" The defense attorney ask softly.
"She, she told me that, Mr Jean-Pierre was responsible for my family's fallout. She said he killed my father, and he was the one who paid my former friends to sleep with my exes. And, and I was so mad, because all these years I've been wondering why those bad things happened to me, and my mom. And I thought I wanted to make Mr Jean-Pierre pay for what he's done." Allison sniffle, wiping her teary eyes with the back of her hand.
"Do you need a moment?" The defense attorney asks.
"No, I'm good." She sniffle.
"Okay then." He continue. "After the hallucination, what else do you remember?"
"Uh, besides the raging voice in my head, I remember pretty much nothing else. I don't recall pulling the trigger, I swear it. All I remember was being tackled on the ground by a security guard." Her voice breaking in between every word as she narrates.
"Do you think the hallucination might be caused by a mental breakdown?"
"Objection, call for hearsay." The prosecutor state.
"Sustained!" The judge ruled.
"Why do you think you could've had a mental breakdown?"
"I uh, I have been pushing myself to the limit since I moved to New York. I wanted to be famous, and I just practice day and night since I joined the NY Demon Girls. I sleep less and rehearse more. I have my personal rehearsals besides the normal rehearsals of Demon Girls. I ate little to maintain a small weight. And with all these that I put my body and mind through, I never visited a Doctor for safety checkup. This is just about enough to cause a mental breakdown."
"Thank you for sharing." The defense attorney say softly. Turning to the judge, he continue. "That'll be all your honour."
"Thank you." The judge say as the defense attorney returns to his seat. "Does the plaintiff wish to cross examine the defendant?"
Standing up immediately, "Yes your honour." The prosecutor say.
"Alright, please proceed." The judge reply.
The prosecutor steps out, slowly advancing towards the defendant. Allison cringe in her seat, something about the prosecutor screams doom. She fights hard to remain calm, for all she knows she has been nothing but sincere in everything she had said in the courtroom.
"Miss Allison, you withdraw your plea of not guilty on the 6th of January, that right?" The prosecutor inquire.
"Yes." Allison nods, mumbling.
"Now you plea guilty by reason of insanity."
"That's, that's correct." She croak.
"So, if your plea now is based on the fact that you claim to have memory fragments of what happened at the party, how come your first plea was not guilty if you never remembered what happened?"
The intensity of every pair of eyes focusing on the defendant got her wishing the earth would open and swallow her. At least at this point the plaintiff wouldn't have to gobble her anymore all in the name of cross examination.
"Would you like me to repeat the question Miss kringle?" The prosecutor furrow his brows, seeing that she is completely out of wake.
"Uh, no?" Her response comes out in a question. "I mean, yes please." She reasoned, buying herself a little more time to come up with an answer.
"Okay. You said you can't account for your actions at Mr Jean-Pierre's welcome party because you have no memory of what you did that day. But somehow your first plea was not guilty. Could you tell the court what made you plea not guilty in the first place when you have no memory of what happened that day?"
"Objection. The defendant has a right to withdraw a plea and that right is as a matter of fact being inflamed with this question." The defense attorney objects.
"Sustained."
"Miss Allison, just to set the record straight, have you ever had a memory loss, or an hallucination, or perhaps a symptom of mental health conditions and whatnot before the Mr Jean-Pierre incident?"
Allison shakes her head, "no." She croak.
"Is it safe to say the first and last time you had this sort of blackout or sleepwalk as you described it was at the welcome party?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"You think so?" The prosecutor narrow his eyes at her, a small mischievous smirk on his face cause her heart to sink into a hole.
But Allison is not stupid. She can see what the prosecutor is doing. He's trying to make sure she doesn't get the help that she needs. He wants her to be sent to jail instead.
"I don't remember having any blind spots besides welcome party." She finally say in a grit.
"The thing is Miss Allison, mental disorders starts little by little, like a gradual process that gets worse over time. One seldom get symptoms here and there, and without management it gets worse such like one having hallucinations of seeing their mother tell them to kill a man. But this is not the case with you." The prosecutor pause and turns to the jury. "You would agree with me that bipolar disorders starts little by little, over time. Not a one time off thing. It doesn't begin with a major hallucination as such the defendant claims..."
Allison inwardly cursed at the prosecutor for being so insensitive and myopic to her case. It didn't matter to the plaintiffs how remorseful one is, all that matter to them is winning a case and getting bigger cases so they can make more money.
Is justice a fallacy to these people? She bite on her lower lip.
Returning his attention to Allison, the prosecutor continues. "Tell us Miss, is there anyone that can attest to your claim of mental disorders besides your attorney? A doctor? Or maybe a friend, family? Anyone?"
"No. I didn't tell anyone because it hasn't happen before." She snarl.
"No one then? Isn't that convenient?" The prosecutor jest. "Well," he continued. "if as you said, you never knew Mr Jean-Pierre personally, never had any business with him, then that mean you don't have any reason to want to kill him."
"No. I really don't." Allison say pleadingly.
"How do you explain your expertise in with guns?"
"What? I'm not an expert with guns." She say aback.
"Perhaps watching the video coverage from the party would help you remember?" He blurt, turning to the judge. "Your honour I'd like to show to the defendant a footage marked as exhibit 1. This is to allow the court see exactly what happened at the party and not speculate."
Nodding to it, "Go ahead." The judge approves.
The prosecutor signal the court clerk. Eyes pry to and fro as the court clerk puts the projector in place. Allison swallow hard, her heart sink deep into her chest. Just like everybody in the courtroom, she is about to watch herself murder a man in cold blood.
An awkward silence stretched throughout the courtroom. All eyes locks on the clip displaying on the court projector like one of those newly aired movies playing in a grand cinema. Except everyone in the courtroom knows how this particular movie ended.
The video begin like a usual happy party where everyone are chatting in groups. With some people gracing the dance floor in twos. Allison is like a main focus in the video, this is based on the angle from where the CCTV captured.
"Could you take the video to somewhere before 3pm?" The prosecutor motioned to the court clerk.
Nodding to the instruction, he leans in towards the controller and pushes the clip around the time as told. The clip comes up from a different angle, this time showing Allison walk robotic towards the convenient while Mr Jean-Pierre was rumbling his speech.
Allison tries to shut her eyes unwilling to watch any further but her mind thinks otherwise. Her eye remain glued to the projector. Unsettling twitches irritate her stomach, leaving her with a nauseating feeling.
This is what my life has come to?
This is what I become famous for? Her thoughts scatter in a million ways.
The tension around the air build up as a version of Allison totally unknown to her friends and colleagues knocked out a guard in the clip. Low gasps heave in sight spontaneously in the gallery. Although everybody here have heard how the story ended but not most of them are lucky enough to have seen how it happened.
Another gasp erupt when Allison takes two shots at Mr Jean-Pierre. This time the judge is compelled to hit the gavel on the desk, "order!" She calls out. The gasps groes louder when another guard tackles Allison to the floor.
"Order!" The thundering sound of the gavel hitting the desk sends everyone in a quiet frenzy. The court clerk pause the clip just after Allison was knocked out.
"So Miss Allison, were you able to refresh your memory on what happened?" The prosecutor question.
I, I mean, I saw what happened but it's not what I remember." She sputter.
"Well what do you remember?"
"Seeing my mother! I, I know now that she wasn't at the party but I thought I saw her. I remember seeing her vividly, and those things she told me."
"From the video you can attest that your mother was nowhere in that party." He grunt.
"Yes. And that explains my plea on insanity defense." Allison croak.
Slowly turning to the jury, he continues. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you will agree with me that this case feels way to convenient for the defense. If the defendant wants to plea guilty by reason of insanity, the defense must prove to the court with reasonable evidence that the defendant did not understand what she was doing. As a matter of fact, the defense have failed to prove the defendant's mental disorder defense. It is not enough for the defendant to say she suffered a mental breakdown that day without providing a medical document to back up her claim. So I ask you members of the jury to do what is right and just, and not allow a man killer walk free."