Round 1 // Challenge 7 - Entries
Story Title: The Guilt of Sparrows
Character/Relationships: Edward, Jacob
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
His doctor's note (written in Carlisle's impeccable script) claimed he was severely photosensitive. They were nice enough to close the blinds for him. The room felt claustrophobic for it, the dark wood and close walls looming until they crowded the space to near suffocation.
Edward sat in the far back corner of the jury box and slouched low in his seat. He hid his annoyance and boredom with practiced ease. Around him, his fellow jurors pretended annoyance, but their thoughts did nothing to conceal their excitement.
I wonder if there will be a murder trial....
Maybe we'll get sequestered....
….who will feed my cat?
Are we going to get paid for this?
...Maybe I'll be on T.V....
Edward rolled his eyes behind his tinted glasses. The little seeds of excitement would die down into real boredom and badly concealed disappointment when their trials were petty offenses at best. He was more than twice as old as anyone in the room and of all the things he could talk his way out of if, jury duty was apparently not on the list. Emmett thought it was all very amusing and Bella agreed. He wondered what he'd done to tick Alice off that she saw fit not to warn him and made a mental note to pick her up something nice on the way home.
Twenty years before, it had been the same story. He, more than most, hated jury duty. His fellow jurors were only looking for the excitement; they were hoping for CSI and were going to get something far more mundane. In their boredom, they'd try to make something more out of the trial, look for some hidden clues, try to analyze some small comment a witness made in passing as if they're qualified because they watch daytime television.
Edward didn't have to listen to a single word from either counsel. He knew a defendant's guilt without even looking at them. When the jury let the guilty rapist go twenty years before, it was only too easy to track the criminal down and exact the justice the courts failed to deliver. Edward was afraid of these places. He was afraid of what he could easily become, sitting in a court and watching injustice played out on a stage decorated with ceremony and silver-tongued actors. Mortals playing dress-up in the robes of something far more divine.
Edward practiced being numb. He reminded himself that the affairs of these humans were none of his business. He kept up the facade until Jacob Black was hauled into the room in cuffs.
The chair creaked beneath him as he sat up. Jacob looked wild; even on human legs, he looked more wolf than man. His hair was shaggy and mused and his eyes darted wildly around the room. He was fighting to contain himself, reminding himself in a litany that he couldn't phase. Edward hadn't seen the shifter in more than two decades, but for all that Jacob hadn't aged a day, he seemed a hundred years older.
“What have you done, Jacob...?” Edward whispered. His voice was low and fast; no human could have heard.
Jacob's head snapped up. His eyes slid over the jury and he bit back a growl. The sound translated into a low whine that made the guards nervous. They pushed Jacob into a chair and the big shifter turned his eyes resolutely away from the jury box. His jaw tightened, his arms flexed and the cuffs creaked under the pressure.
The production played out by script. They rose and sat, listed names. Everyone was very serious, their hungry eyes and avid imaginations trained on Jacob's monstrous height, his wild eyes. The charges weren't even listed before the verdict was in.
...Probably a druggy
…...Looks like he could eat a baby
Monster-
I wouldn't want my family around him-
Whatever it is, he probably did it.
Edward hands tightened reflexively into fists. Jacob's shoulders fell, his eyes slid closed. Even without Edward's ability, he knew what the jury of his peers was thinking. He knew the end of the play without reading the script.
The charges were read with formal exactness. Breaking and entering. Assault and battery. Sexual assault.
Jacob tensed under the words as if they were hammer blows. Edward felt the crescendo of excitement building with each word, the vicious gabbling of the jurors and the audience like a flock of agitated chickens. Each juror quieted their fervor down to meek bravado to answer the lawyers questions. They convinced themselves that it was only the patriotic thing to stay and see the trial through. Justice must be served and they were qualified to serve it.
“Mr. Cullen? Is there any reason that you would be biased to this case?”
He could get out of it. All he had to say was that he knew Jacob. He would be excused from the court and sent home. He would be free from the hell of the courts for another few years; next time he would be better prepared to evade it.
I didn't do it.
Edward's eyes flicked up under the dark lenses. Jacob was not looking at him, but Edward could feel the smallest stirrings of hope lifting away from Jacob's bent shoulders.
Please...Edward.
It was the first time Jacob had ever called him by name. Edward knew the minds around him, and knew that he was Jacob's only hope.
I didn't. Do it. I know you can hear me. I know you can hear the truth. I didn't do it.
“Mr. Cullen?”
The air tasted like burnt dust and sweat. Edward sat up straighter in the chair. “No, I have no bias.”
The lawyer nodded and moved on. Jacob swallowed hard and took a slow breath.
Maybe Edward could change the ending of this production. Maybe not. But he could try.
Story Title: You can't handle the truth
Character/Relationships: Alice, Jasper, Carlisle
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
“This is gonna be so much fun!” Alice cheered and twirled through the kitchen, while Jasper held his letter in his hands, a fierce look on his face.
“Jury duty is a respectful job, Alice. You shouldn’t take it too lightly,” Carlisle said. “Also, you two should go hunting before you leave. Sometimes those trials take days and you won’t find an opportunity to go out.”
“Carlisle,” Alice started.. “With Jasper and my gift, this will be over in no time.”
~~~~~
Alice took Jasper’s hand when she felt his restrain to enter the courtroom full of people.
“It’s gonna be alright,” she assured him and together they entered and took their seats.
The trial started and Alice leaned in to Jasper, who already knew what she was about to ask.
“He’s scared,” Jasper started. “But I think he has confidence in his lawyer that he will get him out.”
“Interesting,” Alice said and they both listened intensely to both sides and what they had to say about the murder case.
Almost at the end, before the jury would be released and brought into the locked room to discuss the case, Alice closed her eyes for a moment. She let the vision rush through her head.
“We’ll find him not guilty,” she whispered to Jasper. “As I said, piece of cake.”
And it came as Alice had seen in her vision; the jury discussed the case for a few hours and in the end, they all voted not guilty.
But when the verdict was announced, Jasper jerked and looked at the accused with wide eyes. Before he could tell Alice though, the jury was dismissed and the trial ended.
Outside, Jasper took Alice’s arm and softly pulled her aside.
“What is it?” She asked.
“At the end of the trial, I could swear that the accused felt relief and happiness.”
“Sure, Jasper, he just escaped prison. How would you feel?”
“No, that’s not it,” Jasper continued. “I mean another kind of happiness. Almost… giddy. As if he was looking forward to something. And I don’t mean freedom.”
The look on Jasper’s face told Alice that they had just released a murderer.
~~~~~
At home, they told Carlisle what they experienced and Jasper insisted that he was sure what he had felt.
“We have to do something, Carlisle,” Alice said.
“I don’t think there’s much that we can do, Alice. I’m sorry, but I think the law has to handle this guy. We can’t interfere.”
“We made a mistake and maybe someone else has to pay?”
But before she could go on, her eyes flickered and she started to speak about something else - her vision.
“I can see him. He’s in front of a house. The lights are on and… there’s a woman…” Alice’s eyes flew open in shock. “Carlisle, it’s the woman who testified in his trial. He will kill her!”
“We have to do something,” Jasper said and looked expectantly at Carlisle.
“And we will. I’ll call the police and leave an anonymous tip that will lead them to the house. There isn’t much we can do. You two have to understand. As much as I would help you righten the mistake, as well, but I think in this case, that’s the right thing to do.”
Alice and Jasper looked at each other for a second and then they both nodded at Carlisle, their heads hanging in shame.
The following evening, there was a news report on television, telling that their suspect had been caught in the act and was back in police custody. Carlisle, Alice and Jasper watched, knowing that now, with his face on the news and all, he would be convicted the right way.
Story Title: Corpus Delecti
Character/Relationships: Edward Masen Cullen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Historical references
He slipped up the back stairs of his family home in Uptown, Chicago, using the entrance reserved for servants and tradesmen. He was the only one who came and went regularly from the three-story structure, and most of his neighbors never saw him. Edward Masen had become just a whisper, a sickly, strange character who seemingly suffered chronic ill effects from his boyhood bout with influenza. He would have been 30 by now, if he hadn't died thirteen years earlier.
No one alive thought much about him at all.
Except, evidently, the State of Illinois. In his mail he found a notice of venire facias, summoning him to court to do the duty of a normal citizen, one who didn't haunt the secluded sections of town, one who didn't avoid the sunlight and hide his eyes behind darkened lenses.
Standing with the summons held lightly in his fingers, Edward stared sightlessly at the textured wallpaper of his father's library and imagined himself dressing for court, mixing with humans, watching from the jury box as attorneys like his father argued eloquently. He wondered if he could control himself enough to endure the sights, smells and sounds, especially the incessant stir of unvoiced thoughts from all around him.
The idea was intriguing.
Still, Edward was somewhat surprised at himself when he arrived at the Federal Building that October morning, ready to report for jury duty. He was also surprised by the amount of people crowding the entrance on Adams Street, and he automatically stopped breathing as he jostled against the aggressive men who shouldered their way past uniformed guards and policemen. He shut out the din and steeled himself for his day's work.
Within an hour he had been called and subsequently selected to serve on a panel. "You'll be seated by 11:00," the clerk said, "and don't try to leave the building. Security is tight today." The case was seemingly simple and probably wouldn't take long, but the close contact with humans was already affecting Edward, and when he slipped away for a moment to compose himself, he was relieved by the sight of his golden eyes in the washroom mirror.
He reflected that it wouldn't be long before he was strong enough to return to Carlisle and his new wife, Esme, a junkie finally cured of his three-year addiction to human blood.
"You men have been ordered to the sixth floor," the clerk announced before Edward's assigned trial had even started. "The U.S. marshals will escort you."
Edward followed, curiosity overshadowed by his dread of the crowded elevator ride. Hustled into a larger, more congested courtroom, he sensed immediately the electricity in the air, saw the dozens of reporters lining the back rows, caught the bright eyes of female onlookers. Then he was seated and recognized the familiar figure just a few feet away, licking his thick lips and smiling with assumed arrogance.
He was face-to-face with Public Enemy Number One.
"Gentlemen, my name is James Wilkerson," intoned the judge from his high seat on the bench, "and I've taken the liberty of moving you men to these proceedings today. We won't keep you any longer than necessary."
Edward Masen had been shoved into history, a juror in the trial of the U.S. versus Al Capone.
He could plainly feel the fear and confusion from his fellow jurors. Mostly rural men, they had no desire to sit in judgment of someone known to silence his enemies with violence. It wasn't by accident that Judge Wilkerson had decided to switch juries at the last possible moment; clearly the prosecutors expected tampering, even coercion. Edward felt a pang of sympathy for his human peers.
But his own reaction was one of excitement and dark fascination; he tasted venom as he stared, unafraid, at Capone, ready to read his thoughts and see his deadly deeds though the man's own memories. Capone was already guilty in Edward's eyes, guilty of helping to degrade the city his parents had loved. Chicago had become a center of crime and corruption, calling for g-men and even comic strip heroes to try to control the chaos; just a day earlier Edward had paid his two cents for the Tribune to read the first-ever exploits of detective Dick Tracy.
He was happy to be part of the human solution to Al Capone.
But that solution was soon to became nothing short of ludicrous. Capone was not on trial for murder or assault or even bootlegging. The witnesses paraded through the courtroom weren't asked about gunmen or prostitutes, they were grilled about endless expenditures and columns of numbers. They were bank cashiers, grocers, hotel clerks and shop keepers. The court seemed obsessed with Capone's car, clothes and diamond belt buckles. The government accused Capone of nothing more than not paying taxes on his criminal enterprises.
When Capone's sister, hidden behind a veil, slipped silently into the back of the courtroom, Edward tried to block out her childhood memories of the bloated gangster. He tried to ignore actor Edward G. Robinson, "Little Caesar" himself, who appeared in court to catch his alter ego up close.
Fighting the strain of being sequestered, Edward tried to concentrate on the evidence, not the circus.
When the two weeks of testimony were over, it was difficult to listen to the judge's hour-long instructions, especially when he emphasized the 'corpus delecti,' the body of the crime. Edward could smell dust and perspiration and strong after shave. But there was no blood on the paperwork the government called the corpus delecti, like the pools of it on the floor of the garage on Clark street where seven bodies had been riddled with bullets on Valentine's Day two years earlier.
It was too bad Edward hadn't met Capone in Lincoln Park that night.
The human solution, after all, wasn't the best one.
As they deliberated for nearly nine hours, Edward voted the same way, frustrating the poor foreman. He held out through fifteen ballots.
"Not guilty."
Story Title: The day from H-E-Double Hockey sticks
Character/Relationships: Bella (some mention of Edward, Jacob, Emmett and Alice)
Rating: PG :)
Warnings: kind of AU before her change in BD but After the battle of Eclipse I suppose...
Today was not a good day for me at all. I spilled Charlie’s coffee all over my homework. Then Alice, being the know it all pixie that she is, was at my door with not only a new outfit, but a curling iron and make-up. Sure, I looked good - which would help for my college interview after school - but I knew the heels she gave me with the outfit would be a killer. And I was right. I not only twisted my ankle, but I managed to flash all of Forks High in the process.
But that wasn’t the icing on the cake. Oh no. Forks, being known for its less than dry weather, not only flattened the fabulous curls Alice worked hard on, but managed to make my hair frizz like Magenta’s from Rocky Horror Picture Show!
The rain… Holy crow don’t get me started on that. Let’s just say, getting a flat tire in the middle of a down pour, with my overprotective boyfriend and jealous best friend -whose madly in-love with me and hates my vampire boyfriend - and my boyfriend’s adoptive wise cracking brother together in one setting… not a good thing.
At my interview, I misquoted my own entrance essay -insert palm face here - got lost at the campus, and someone broke into my truck! I knew that radio from Emmett and Rosalie was a bad idea!
But at last I’m home. Charlie is having dinner with Sue. Edward is hunting with his family, which leaves me alone. Alone to wear my favorite ratty clothes and curl up with Ms. Austen. Life is always better when I submerge myself in the trials and tribulations of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Nothing is going to spoil this night for me.
Or at least that’s what I was thinking when I got the mail.
The envelope with Clallam County stamped across the front filled me with dread. I hadn’t even been of legal voting age for over six months and I get this!? Today of all days! Jury duty?!
I grabbed my phone from my bag and quickly dialed the number burned in my brain, waiting for him to pick up.
“Hello love,” his velvety voice answered, melting my annoyance only slightly.
“You so owe me for this Edward Cullen,” I tried to growl out at him. I could hear Alice and Emmett laughing in the background and felt my lips curl a bit. It was fairly obvious that Alice informed them of my misfortune.
“It’s only jury duty, love. Not the end of the world,” he said trying to sooth me.
“Says the vampire who has never gone nor will he ever.”
"Touche." He laughed. The sound alone making me forget about everything that was bothering me.
Story Title: Judge and Jury
Character/Relationships: Alice (and ensemble)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
The stone walls of the subterranean inner sanctum (aka holding cell) absorb nothing, not cold, not pain, not the cacophony of voices both inside and out of Alice's head. She sees it all, twice, thrice, four to five times over, like slides on a projector that just won't stop revolving: each image clicks into place just to disappear into a jarringly blank future. In the course of the last hour, things have bounced from bad to worse to a little bit better to royally shitty about a dozen times over.
Her head hurts. Of course, that's the least of their problems.
They argue. The Ancient Ones, mostly, but also Edward. Carefully. Tactfully. (They're on trial, make no mistake about it.) Edward is asked a question, then another, and he answers each slowly, but Alice isn't paying attention. She's locked in her own reality of what is, what was, what is the come: freedom from this dungeon, the open road, the feel of the Porsche's horsepower in her capable hands. Flip. Edward and herself, broken into a thousand shards. Flip. Bella at home, on the beach with the young werewolf, Jacob. Flip. Jasper and the other Cullens, hunted down like dogs. Flip. Bella on the stone floor, drained and lifeless as Felix leans over her.
Flip. (An instant too late.)
Edward's cries fill the air and reverberate off the walls, cutting the corners and ricocheting back to pierce Alice's brain. (Was it Jane, or was it she, Alice, who inflicted the pain?) Bella's wails predictably follow suit, an octave higher with fear. It's the final minutes...it must be; they all know it. Aro is deciding, he's turning to signal his decision, the Volturi guard are leaning forward eagerly to carry out his order. Edward and Bella are still both screaming simultaneously for the other's life, their shouts clamoring for attention between the three judges, echoing back off the ceiling, the floor, the stony faces of the Volturi brethren still awaiting Aro's verdict.
Alice can't stand it, can't hear it, can't even think, think, THINK in all this noise--
"Wait!"
She has it. In their final moments, Bella is finally, unwaveringly sure, Edward is staunchly resigned, and their subsequent shared future opens up like the petals of a rose, read by Alice as easily as any book. She grasps it and holds it until, like a skiddish colt, it steadies in her mind's eye. She touches Aro's hand, and with that one gesture, her role shifts oh-so subtly from that of defendant to both judge and jury. She relays her vision, a vision she's now broadcasting so brightly, she's half surprised Aro's not blinded by it.
"She's going to be one of us."
Story Title: One Angry Vamp
Character/Relationships: Jasper
Rating: R
Warnings: Profanity
Jasper closed his eyes and sighed. How the hell had he gotten roped into this? Jury duty. Of all things.
And to make matters worse, the case had gone to trial.
Add to that the fact that they had been sequestered for several days now because Juror Number 9 was being an asshat and kept voting “not guilty” despite ample evidence to the contrary.
But Juror Number 9 was a right-to-lifer and the death penalty was on the line.
Jasper would show him death penalty. If he didn’t see reason, Jasper was going to eat the son of a bitch.
Story Title: Perjury
Character/Relationships: Rosalie POV, Edward, OCs,
Rating: R
Warnings: Descriptions of evidence in a rape and murder case, domestic violence, language, and perjury.
At first I didn’t want to serve and I was going to make up an excuse to get out of it. Then when I found out the charges against the defendant, I perjured myself to get on the jury.
Doesn’t matter to me that I lied while my hand rested on the Bible. I wanted to make sure The Bastard suffered for what he did.
It was hard to compose myself as I listened to the prosecutor. The defendant, or The Bastard as I called him, had a history of beating his girlfriends. So, I knew for sure he raped and beaten his wife, Celyn, leaving her for dead. Her body was found discarded in the woods behind their house. His semen was found in her. The hardest part was looking at the brutal photos of his wife. How could anyone be so monstrous? Forget this trial. I wanted to lunge out at The Bastard and break his neck.
I wasn’t even going to listen to the defense attorney. I had made up my mind. Guilty as charged.
Then I started having doubts.
The Bastard’s lawyer kept bringing up his client’s alibi, playing poker all night with his friends. The lawyer also brought up a witness that testified that Celyn was having an affair with an ex-boyfriend who was very jealous and still stalked her. Then came the evidence of the text messages and emails between her and the jealous ex. The last piece of evidence really left me skeptical; they also found his semen in her.
I need to know for sure who did it. Justice need to be served.
I already lied to get on the jury, so it didn’t matter that I discussed my idea with someone outside the case.
“No, Rose. I won’t do it. It’s not right.” Edward protested and kept on playing.
“Don’t get all high and mighty on me. You used to make men like them your meals, so don’t try to preach to me how this is wrong. Don’t you want to see the monster who did this to Celyn get convicted?”
“Of course, and that is up to the jury. You’ll do what is right.”
I wanted to shake him. “What if they are prosecuting the wrong man?”
“That is for the jury to decided. I can’t help you.”
I was about to slam my fist on the piano when Edward grabbed my arm to prevent any damage to his precious Steinway. He was a stubborn mule, but I knew my brother’s weakness. Do you want him to get away with it? He’ll be out there, praying on other women. Like those men who almost raped Bella.
He slammed the keys so abruptly the notes became a menacing drone. After a beat he asked, “What exactly am I supposed to do?”
“You wait outside the courthouse and listen in on the trial. As each witness is called up read their minds and his.”
...
Edward was at the park right by the courthouse, pretending to read. I sat with the other jurors in our box.
We stood as the judge entered the courtroom and addressed the prosecutor.
“The prosecution calls Abelard King III to the stand.”
The jealous ex-boyfriend was a tall, light haired man who wore an expensive suit. After he was sworn in the prosecutor began, “Mr. King, were you having an affair with Celyn?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“For how long?”
“On and off for about a year. It was mostly a long distance relationship.”
“Did you date before?”
“Yes, we did.”
“When?”
“Before she was married. When she lived in Rochester and was working as the manager of my bank.”
I froze. A man with the last name King, from Rochester, who owned a bank. I looked at Abelard and saw the same pale blue eyes and fair skin that Royce had. A strong trait in his family, if I remember. He was a descendent of those Kings and with his family history he had to have done it.
The juror to my right was staring at me. I realized I had been too still and my hands were gripping the hand rests, my nails digging into the wood.
“Rose!” I heard Edward call, “Calm down. Keep listening.” I took an unnecessary breath and blinked. I could have used Jasper by my side during this trial.
The prosector went on, “Where were you the night of Celyn’s murder?”
“I was at the train station, waiting for her. She finally decided to leave her husband and come back with me to Rochester.”
The prosecutor held up a file. “I have here the credit card records that confirm Mr. King bought two train tickets at the station, as well as surveillance tapes that capture Mr. King waiting at the station during the time of the murder. Mr. King, can you please describe the last time you saw Celyn?”
“The last time I saw her was that afternoon. She came to my apartment for lunch and we had sex. It was consensual,” he strongly pointed out. “The whole time she seemed to be on edge and before she left she told me she was afraid her husband suspected we were having an affair. She believed he was going to confront her about it. She was afraid for her life. I wanted to leave immediately that afternoon but she insisted she go home first to pack.”
...
The judge called recess for lunch before allowing the defense attorney to cross-examine Mr. King.
I went to the park to think everything over. Edward came to sit by me. He looked upset. I could only imagine the things he saw through The Bastard’s thoughts. I felt bad for asking this favor, especially since if I was just patient I wouldn’t have needed his help.
Edward gave me a smile to let me know I was forgiven.
I did have one question that would help me during deliberation, “What do the other jurors think?”
Character/Relationships: Edward, Jacob
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
His doctor's note (written in Carlisle's impeccable script) claimed he was severely photosensitive. They were nice enough to close the blinds for him. The room felt claustrophobic for it, the dark wood and close walls looming until they crowded the space to near suffocation.
Edward sat in the far back corner of the jury box and slouched low in his seat. He hid his annoyance and boredom with practiced ease. Around him, his fellow jurors pretended annoyance, but their thoughts did nothing to conceal their excitement.
I wonder if there will be a murder trial....
Maybe we'll get sequestered....
….who will feed my cat?
Are we going to get paid for this?
...Maybe I'll be on T.V....
Edward rolled his eyes behind his tinted glasses. The little seeds of excitement would die down into real boredom and badly concealed disappointment when their trials were petty offenses at best. He was more than twice as old as anyone in the room and of all the things he could talk his way out of if, jury duty was apparently not on the list. Emmett thought it was all very amusing and Bella agreed. He wondered what he'd done to tick Alice off that she saw fit not to warn him and made a mental note to pick her up something nice on the way home.
Twenty years before, it had been the same story. He, more than most, hated jury duty. His fellow jurors were only looking for the excitement; they were hoping for CSI and were going to get something far more mundane. In their boredom, they'd try to make something more out of the trial, look for some hidden clues, try to analyze some small comment a witness made in passing as if they're qualified because they watch daytime television.
Edward didn't have to listen to a single word from either counsel. He knew a defendant's guilt without even looking at them. When the jury let the guilty rapist go twenty years before, it was only too easy to track the criminal down and exact the justice the courts failed to deliver. Edward was afraid of these places. He was afraid of what he could easily become, sitting in a court and watching injustice played out on a stage decorated with ceremony and silver-tongued actors. Mortals playing dress-up in the robes of something far more divine.
Edward practiced being numb. He reminded himself that the affairs of these humans were none of his business. He kept up the facade until Jacob Black was hauled into the room in cuffs.
The chair creaked beneath him as he sat up. Jacob looked wild; even on human legs, he looked more wolf than man. His hair was shaggy and mused and his eyes darted wildly around the room. He was fighting to contain himself, reminding himself in a litany that he couldn't phase. Edward hadn't seen the shifter in more than two decades, but for all that Jacob hadn't aged a day, he seemed a hundred years older.
“What have you done, Jacob...?” Edward whispered. His voice was low and fast; no human could have heard.
Jacob's head snapped up. His eyes slid over the jury and he bit back a growl. The sound translated into a low whine that made the guards nervous. They pushed Jacob into a chair and the big shifter turned his eyes resolutely away from the jury box. His jaw tightened, his arms flexed and the cuffs creaked under the pressure.
The production played out by script. They rose and sat, listed names. Everyone was very serious, their hungry eyes and avid imaginations trained on Jacob's monstrous height, his wild eyes. The charges weren't even listed before the verdict was in.
...Probably a druggy
…...Looks like he could eat a baby
Monster-
I wouldn't want my family around him-
Whatever it is, he probably did it.
Edward hands tightened reflexively into fists. Jacob's shoulders fell, his eyes slid closed. Even without Edward's ability, he knew what the jury of his peers was thinking. He knew the end of the play without reading the script.
The charges were read with formal exactness. Breaking and entering. Assault and battery. Sexual assault.
Jacob tensed under the words as if they were hammer blows. Edward felt the crescendo of excitement building with each word, the vicious gabbling of the jurors and the audience like a flock of agitated chickens. Each juror quieted their fervor down to meek bravado to answer the lawyers questions. They convinced themselves that it was only the patriotic thing to stay and see the trial through. Justice must be served and they were qualified to serve it.
“Mr. Cullen? Is there any reason that you would be biased to this case?”
He could get out of it. All he had to say was that he knew Jacob. He would be excused from the court and sent home. He would be free from the hell of the courts for another few years; next time he would be better prepared to evade it.
I didn't do it.
Edward's eyes flicked up under the dark lenses. Jacob was not looking at him, but Edward could feel the smallest stirrings of hope lifting away from Jacob's bent shoulders.
Please...Edward.
It was the first time Jacob had ever called him by name. Edward knew the minds around him, and knew that he was Jacob's only hope.
I didn't. Do it. I know you can hear me. I know you can hear the truth. I didn't do it.
“Mr. Cullen?”
The air tasted like burnt dust and sweat. Edward sat up straighter in the chair. “No, I have no bias.”
The lawyer nodded and moved on. Jacob swallowed hard and took a slow breath.
Maybe Edward could change the ending of this production. Maybe not. But he could try.
Story Title: You can't handle the truth
Character/Relationships: Alice, Jasper, Carlisle
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
“This is gonna be so much fun!” Alice cheered and twirled through the kitchen, while Jasper held his letter in his hands, a fierce look on his face.
“Jury duty is a respectful job, Alice. You shouldn’t take it too lightly,” Carlisle said. “Also, you two should go hunting before you leave. Sometimes those trials take days and you won’t find an opportunity to go out.”
“Carlisle,” Alice started.. “With Jasper and my gift, this will be over in no time.”
~~~~~
Alice took Jasper’s hand when she felt his restrain to enter the courtroom full of people.
“It’s gonna be alright,” she assured him and together they entered and took their seats.
The trial started and Alice leaned in to Jasper, who already knew what she was about to ask.
“He’s scared,” Jasper started. “But I think he has confidence in his lawyer that he will get him out.”
“Interesting,” Alice said and they both listened intensely to both sides and what they had to say about the murder case.
Almost at the end, before the jury would be released and brought into the locked room to discuss the case, Alice closed her eyes for a moment. She let the vision rush through her head.
“We’ll find him not guilty,” she whispered to Jasper. “As I said, piece of cake.”
And it came as Alice had seen in her vision; the jury discussed the case for a few hours and in the end, they all voted not guilty.
But when the verdict was announced, Jasper jerked and looked at the accused with wide eyes. Before he could tell Alice though, the jury was dismissed and the trial ended.
Outside, Jasper took Alice’s arm and softly pulled her aside.
“What is it?” She asked.
“At the end of the trial, I could swear that the accused felt relief and happiness.”
“Sure, Jasper, he just escaped prison. How would you feel?”
“No, that’s not it,” Jasper continued. “I mean another kind of happiness. Almost… giddy. As if he was looking forward to something. And I don’t mean freedom.”
The look on Jasper’s face told Alice that they had just released a murderer.
~~~~~
At home, they told Carlisle what they experienced and Jasper insisted that he was sure what he had felt.
“We have to do something, Carlisle,” Alice said.
“I don’t think there’s much that we can do, Alice. I’m sorry, but I think the law has to handle this guy. We can’t interfere.”
“We made a mistake and maybe someone else has to pay?”
But before she could go on, her eyes flickered and she started to speak about something else - her vision.
“I can see him. He’s in front of a house. The lights are on and… there’s a woman…” Alice’s eyes flew open in shock. “Carlisle, it’s the woman who testified in his trial. He will kill her!”
“We have to do something,” Jasper said and looked expectantly at Carlisle.
“And we will. I’ll call the police and leave an anonymous tip that will lead them to the house. There isn’t much we can do. You two have to understand. As much as I would help you righten the mistake, as well, but I think in this case, that’s the right thing to do.”
Alice and Jasper looked at each other for a second and then they both nodded at Carlisle, their heads hanging in shame.
The following evening, there was a news report on television, telling that their suspect had been caught in the act and was back in police custody. Carlisle, Alice and Jasper watched, knowing that now, with his face on the news and all, he would be convicted the right way.
Story Title: Corpus Delecti
Character/Relationships: Edward Masen Cullen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Historical references
He slipped up the back stairs of his family home in Uptown, Chicago, using the entrance reserved for servants and tradesmen. He was the only one who came and went regularly from the three-story structure, and most of his neighbors never saw him. Edward Masen had become just a whisper, a sickly, strange character who seemingly suffered chronic ill effects from his boyhood bout with influenza. He would have been 30 by now, if he hadn't died thirteen years earlier.
No one alive thought much about him at all.
Except, evidently, the State of Illinois. In his mail he found a notice of venire facias, summoning him to court to do the duty of a normal citizen, one who didn't haunt the secluded sections of town, one who didn't avoid the sunlight and hide his eyes behind darkened lenses.
Standing with the summons held lightly in his fingers, Edward stared sightlessly at the textured wallpaper of his father's library and imagined himself dressing for court, mixing with humans, watching from the jury box as attorneys like his father argued eloquently. He wondered if he could control himself enough to endure the sights, smells and sounds, especially the incessant stir of unvoiced thoughts from all around him.
The idea was intriguing.
Still, Edward was somewhat surprised at himself when he arrived at the Federal Building that October morning, ready to report for jury duty. He was also surprised by the amount of people crowding the entrance on Adams Street, and he automatically stopped breathing as he jostled against the aggressive men who shouldered their way past uniformed guards and policemen. He shut out the din and steeled himself for his day's work.
Within an hour he had been called and subsequently selected to serve on a panel. "You'll be seated by 11:00," the clerk said, "and don't try to leave the building. Security is tight today." The case was seemingly simple and probably wouldn't take long, but the close contact with humans was already affecting Edward, and when he slipped away for a moment to compose himself, he was relieved by the sight of his golden eyes in the washroom mirror.
He reflected that it wouldn't be long before he was strong enough to return to Carlisle and his new wife, Esme, a junkie finally cured of his three-year addiction to human blood.
"You men have been ordered to the sixth floor," the clerk announced before Edward's assigned trial had even started. "The U.S. marshals will escort you."
Edward followed, curiosity overshadowed by his dread of the crowded elevator ride. Hustled into a larger, more congested courtroom, he sensed immediately the electricity in the air, saw the dozens of reporters lining the back rows, caught the bright eyes of female onlookers. Then he was seated and recognized the familiar figure just a few feet away, licking his thick lips and smiling with assumed arrogance.
He was face-to-face with Public Enemy Number One.
"Gentlemen, my name is James Wilkerson," intoned the judge from his high seat on the bench, "and I've taken the liberty of moving you men to these proceedings today. We won't keep you any longer than necessary."
Edward Masen had been shoved into history, a juror in the trial of the U.S. versus Al Capone.
He could plainly feel the fear and confusion from his fellow jurors. Mostly rural men, they had no desire to sit in judgment of someone known to silence his enemies with violence. It wasn't by accident that Judge Wilkerson had decided to switch juries at the last possible moment; clearly the prosecutors expected tampering, even coercion. Edward felt a pang of sympathy for his human peers.
But his own reaction was one of excitement and dark fascination; he tasted venom as he stared, unafraid, at Capone, ready to read his thoughts and see his deadly deeds though the man's own memories. Capone was already guilty in Edward's eyes, guilty of helping to degrade the city his parents had loved. Chicago had become a center of crime and corruption, calling for g-men and even comic strip heroes to try to control the chaos; just a day earlier Edward had paid his two cents for the Tribune to read the first-ever exploits of detective Dick Tracy.
He was happy to be part of the human solution to Al Capone.
But that solution was soon to became nothing short of ludicrous. Capone was not on trial for murder or assault or even bootlegging. The witnesses paraded through the courtroom weren't asked about gunmen or prostitutes, they were grilled about endless expenditures and columns of numbers. They were bank cashiers, grocers, hotel clerks and shop keepers. The court seemed obsessed with Capone's car, clothes and diamond belt buckles. The government accused Capone of nothing more than not paying taxes on his criminal enterprises.
When Capone's sister, hidden behind a veil, slipped silently into the back of the courtroom, Edward tried to block out her childhood memories of the bloated gangster. He tried to ignore actor Edward G. Robinson, "Little Caesar" himself, who appeared in court to catch his alter ego up close.
Fighting the strain of being sequestered, Edward tried to concentrate on the evidence, not the circus.
When the two weeks of testimony were over, it was difficult to listen to the judge's hour-long instructions, especially when he emphasized the 'corpus delecti,' the body of the crime. Edward could smell dust and perspiration and strong after shave. But there was no blood on the paperwork the government called the corpus delecti, like the pools of it on the floor of the garage on Clark street where seven bodies had been riddled with bullets on Valentine's Day two years earlier.
It was too bad Edward hadn't met Capone in Lincoln Park that night.
The human solution, after all, wasn't the best one.
As they deliberated for nearly nine hours, Edward voted the same way, frustrating the poor foreman. He held out through fifteen ballots.
"Not guilty."
Story Title: The day from H-E-Double Hockey sticks
Character/Relationships: Bella (some mention of Edward, Jacob, Emmett and Alice)
Rating: PG :)
Warnings: kind of AU before her change in BD but After the battle of Eclipse I suppose...
Today was not a good day for me at all. I spilled Charlie’s coffee all over my homework. Then Alice, being the know it all pixie that she is, was at my door with not only a new outfit, but a curling iron and make-up. Sure, I looked good - which would help for my college interview after school - but I knew the heels she gave me with the outfit would be a killer. And I was right. I not only twisted my ankle, but I managed to flash all of Forks High in the process.
But that wasn’t the icing on the cake. Oh no. Forks, being known for its less than dry weather, not only flattened the fabulous curls Alice worked hard on, but managed to make my hair frizz like Magenta’s from Rocky Horror Picture Show!
The rain… Holy crow don’t get me started on that. Let’s just say, getting a flat tire in the middle of a down pour, with my overprotective boyfriend and jealous best friend -whose madly in-love with me and hates my vampire boyfriend - and my boyfriend’s adoptive wise cracking brother together in one setting… not a good thing.
At my interview, I misquoted my own entrance essay -insert palm face here - got lost at the campus, and someone broke into my truck! I knew that radio from Emmett and Rosalie was a bad idea!
But at last I’m home. Charlie is having dinner with Sue. Edward is hunting with his family, which leaves me alone. Alone to wear my favorite ratty clothes and curl up with Ms. Austen. Life is always better when I submerge myself in the trials and tribulations of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Nothing is going to spoil this night for me.
Or at least that’s what I was thinking when I got the mail.
The envelope with Clallam County stamped across the front filled me with dread. I hadn’t even been of legal voting age for over six months and I get this!? Today of all days! Jury duty?!
I grabbed my phone from my bag and quickly dialed the number burned in my brain, waiting for him to pick up.
“Hello love,” his velvety voice answered, melting my annoyance only slightly.
“You so owe me for this Edward Cullen,” I tried to growl out at him. I could hear Alice and Emmett laughing in the background and felt my lips curl a bit. It was fairly obvious that Alice informed them of my misfortune.
“It’s only jury duty, love. Not the end of the world,” he said trying to sooth me.
“Says the vampire who has never gone nor will he ever.”
"Touche." He laughed. The sound alone making me forget about everything that was bothering me.
Story Title: Judge and Jury
Character/Relationships: Alice (and ensemble)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
The stone walls of the subterranean inner sanctum (aka holding cell) absorb nothing, not cold, not pain, not the cacophony of voices both inside and out of Alice's head. She sees it all, twice, thrice, four to five times over, like slides on a projector that just won't stop revolving: each image clicks into place just to disappear into a jarringly blank future. In the course of the last hour, things have bounced from bad to worse to a little bit better to royally shitty about a dozen times over.
Her head hurts. Of course, that's the least of their problems.
They argue. The Ancient Ones, mostly, but also Edward. Carefully. Tactfully. (They're on trial, make no mistake about it.) Edward is asked a question, then another, and he answers each slowly, but Alice isn't paying attention. She's locked in her own reality of what is, what was, what is the come: freedom from this dungeon, the open road, the feel of the Porsche's horsepower in her capable hands. Flip. Edward and herself, broken into a thousand shards. Flip. Bella at home, on the beach with the young werewolf, Jacob. Flip. Jasper and the other Cullens, hunted down like dogs. Flip. Bella on the stone floor, drained and lifeless as Felix leans over her.
Flip. (An instant too late.)
Edward's cries fill the air and reverberate off the walls, cutting the corners and ricocheting back to pierce Alice's brain. (Was it Jane, or was it she, Alice, who inflicted the pain?) Bella's wails predictably follow suit, an octave higher with fear. It's the final minutes...it must be; they all know it. Aro is deciding, he's turning to signal his decision, the Volturi guard are leaning forward eagerly to carry out his order. Edward and Bella are still both screaming simultaneously for the other's life, their shouts clamoring for attention between the three judges, echoing back off the ceiling, the floor, the stony faces of the Volturi brethren still awaiting Aro's verdict.
Alice can't stand it, can't hear it, can't even think, think, THINK in all this noise--
"Wait!"
She has it. In their final moments, Bella is finally, unwaveringly sure, Edward is staunchly resigned, and their subsequent shared future opens up like the petals of a rose, read by Alice as easily as any book. She grasps it and holds it until, like a skiddish colt, it steadies in her mind's eye. She touches Aro's hand, and with that one gesture, her role shifts oh-so subtly from that of defendant to both judge and jury. She relays her vision, a vision she's now broadcasting so brightly, she's half surprised Aro's not blinded by it.
"She's going to be one of us."
Story Title: One Angry Vamp
Character/Relationships: Jasper
Rating: R
Warnings: Profanity
Jasper closed his eyes and sighed. How the hell had he gotten roped into this? Jury duty. Of all things.
And to make matters worse, the case had gone to trial.
Add to that the fact that they had been sequestered for several days now because Juror Number 9 was being an asshat and kept voting “not guilty” despite ample evidence to the contrary.
But Juror Number 9 was a right-to-lifer and the death penalty was on the line.
Jasper would show him death penalty. If he didn’t see reason, Jasper was going to eat the son of a bitch.
Story Title: Perjury
Character/Relationships: Rosalie POV, Edward, OCs,
Rating: R
Warnings: Descriptions of evidence in a rape and murder case, domestic violence, language, and perjury.
At first I didn’t want to serve and I was going to make up an excuse to get out of it. Then when I found out the charges against the defendant, I perjured myself to get on the jury.
Doesn’t matter to me that I lied while my hand rested on the Bible. I wanted to make sure The Bastard suffered for what he did.
It was hard to compose myself as I listened to the prosecutor. The defendant, or The Bastard as I called him, had a history of beating his girlfriends. So, I knew for sure he raped and beaten his wife, Celyn, leaving her for dead. Her body was found discarded in the woods behind their house. His semen was found in her. The hardest part was looking at the brutal photos of his wife. How could anyone be so monstrous? Forget this trial. I wanted to lunge out at The Bastard and break his neck.
I wasn’t even going to listen to the defense attorney. I had made up my mind. Guilty as charged.
Then I started having doubts.
The Bastard’s lawyer kept bringing up his client’s alibi, playing poker all night with his friends. The lawyer also brought up a witness that testified that Celyn was having an affair with an ex-boyfriend who was very jealous and still stalked her. Then came the evidence of the text messages and emails between her and the jealous ex. The last piece of evidence really left me skeptical; they also found his semen in her.
I need to know for sure who did it. Justice need to be served.
I already lied to get on the jury, so it didn’t matter that I discussed my idea with someone outside the case.
“No, Rose. I won’t do it. It’s not right.” Edward protested and kept on playing.
“Don’t get all high and mighty on me. You used to make men like them your meals, so don’t try to preach to me how this is wrong. Don’t you want to see the monster who did this to Celyn get convicted?”
“Of course, and that is up to the jury. You’ll do what is right.”
I wanted to shake him. “What if they are prosecuting the wrong man?”
“That is for the jury to decided. I can’t help you.”
I was about to slam my fist on the piano when Edward grabbed my arm to prevent any damage to his precious Steinway. He was a stubborn mule, but I knew my brother’s weakness. Do you want him to get away with it? He’ll be out there, praying on other women. Like those men who almost raped Bella.
He slammed the keys so abruptly the notes became a menacing drone. After a beat he asked, “What exactly am I supposed to do?”
“You wait outside the courthouse and listen in on the trial. As each witness is called up read their minds and his.”
...
Edward was at the park right by the courthouse, pretending to read. I sat with the other jurors in our box.
We stood as the judge entered the courtroom and addressed the prosecutor.
“The prosecution calls Abelard King III to the stand.”
The jealous ex-boyfriend was a tall, light haired man who wore an expensive suit. After he was sworn in the prosecutor began, “Mr. King, were you having an affair with Celyn?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“For how long?”
“On and off for about a year. It was mostly a long distance relationship.”
“Did you date before?”
“Yes, we did.”
“When?”
“Before she was married. When she lived in Rochester and was working as the manager of my bank.”
I froze. A man with the last name King, from Rochester, who owned a bank. I looked at Abelard and saw the same pale blue eyes and fair skin that Royce had. A strong trait in his family, if I remember. He was a descendent of those Kings and with his family history he had to have done it.
The juror to my right was staring at me. I realized I had been too still and my hands were gripping the hand rests, my nails digging into the wood.
“Rose!” I heard Edward call, “Calm down. Keep listening.” I took an unnecessary breath and blinked. I could have used Jasper by my side during this trial.
The prosector went on, “Where were you the night of Celyn’s murder?”
“I was at the train station, waiting for her. She finally decided to leave her husband and come back with me to Rochester.”
The prosecutor held up a file. “I have here the credit card records that confirm Mr. King bought two train tickets at the station, as well as surveillance tapes that capture Mr. King waiting at the station during the time of the murder. Mr. King, can you please describe the last time you saw Celyn?”
“The last time I saw her was that afternoon. She came to my apartment for lunch and we had sex. It was consensual,” he strongly pointed out. “The whole time she seemed to be on edge and before she left she told me she was afraid her husband suspected we were having an affair. She believed he was going to confront her about it. She was afraid for her life. I wanted to leave immediately that afternoon but she insisted she go home first to pack.”
...
The judge called recess for lunch before allowing the defense attorney to cross-examine Mr. King.
I went to the park to think everything over. Edward came to sit by me. He looked upset. I could only imagine the things he saw through The Bastard’s thoughts. I felt bad for asking this favor, especially since if I was just patient I wouldn’t have needed his help.
Edward gave me a smile to let me know I was forgiven.
I did have one question that would help me during deliberation, “What do the other jurors think?”