When the past comes back to haunt you: part 7 (the finale)

Morning came too soon. Jim dressed in the suit his lawyer brought him and quickly glimpsed at himself in the mirror. Most of the bruises and cuts had faded, though there was still a particularly nasty one on his cheek. "It gives you character, " his lawyer had said before threatening to slap the entire police department with harassment and brutality charges.

Jim was cuffed, put in ankle shackles and transported to the courthouse. His lawyer was waiting for him at counsel table and glared at Jim's police escort as he removed the restraints. The courtroom was full of reporters. Most of the town had turned out for the trial. Jim could barely breathe as the judge climbed onto the bench and the courtroom was called to order.

Jim didn’t think it was a good sign when most of the members of the jury were parents, particularly parents of girls. He felt they were staring him down, already convinced of his guilt. The lawyer kept repeating “trust me” and, for whatever reason, Jim did.

The prosecutor’s opening made Jim shrink in his chair. Even he started to believe that the novel was a confession. Maybe when Jim blacked out the night of prom all those years ago it wasn’t from the bottle of Jack he’d consumed. Maybe it was his body’s defense mechanism, blocking out the horrible things the prosecutor said he did to Sara. As the prosecutor talked, Jim closed his eyes and saw himself doing exactly what was described.

A sharp jab of pain in his side brought him back to reality. Pay attention! She commanded silently.

Then it was her turn. Jim leaned back and found himself equally convinced by his lawyer’s opening – one of incompetent police work, shoddy investigation and corruption. The tale she spun was one of an innocent man, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The more she talked, his confidence grew. He sat taller, breathed easier and the jury took notice.

The trial seemed to go on endlessly. The prosecutor paraded a litany of cops onto the stand. Half the town was called to testify about Sara, how wonderful she was, what a good heart she had, what a bright future, how it devastated her parents when she disappeared and no sign was found of her or her body. Jim struggled for composure, but shed quite a few tears listening to them talk about his Sara that way. Even his lawyer seemed touched by the outpouring of compassion for this girl no one had seen in almost 20 years.

Jim knew that the key witness for the prosecution was the medical examiner. He felt his attorney stiffen, primed for battle, when the ME took the stand. The prosecution scored some points with the jury on direct examination of the witness. Jim held his breath as his attorney rose for cross.

She didn’t waste any time going right for the jugular. “Isn’t it true, Mr. Smith, that your lab contaminated the DNA samples?” The use of “Mr.” instead of “Dr.” was a favorite jab of the defense bar, belittling an expert’s qualifications with one little word. The prosecutor objected immediately. “Withdrawn” the attorney said slyly.

“Dr. Smith,” she chided. “Your office neglected to maintain a proper chain of custody for the DNA samples, correct?”

“Your office failed to properly store the tissue samples at the temperature required by the regulations promulgated by your own office, correct?”

“Your technician failed to sterilize the microscope between examining tissue samples, correct?”

“You examined 100 tissue samples on June 4. Are you positive that you didn’t make a mistake recording the results? That your secretary correctly transcribed your notes? That your clerk properly identified each of the samples?”

Each question dealt a blow to the heart of the prosecution’s case.

“So, Doctor. How can you even be sure that the body the police discovered is that of Sara Goldwater?”

The doctor stammered. The attorney dove in for the kill. “Based on the shoddy work performed by your lab, that body can’t be positively identified by anyone! For all you know, I could be Sara.”

Jim gasped, knowing it to be true in that instant. The entire climate of the courtroom changed. Sara turned to him, eyes so full of love they brought tears to Jim's own. “I couldn’t let you be convicted for my murder.” Jim stared, stunned at the admission.

Sara turned to the judge. “Clearly, Your Honor, the charges must be dismissed. I am Sara Goldwater and, as you can see, I am very much alive.”

Sara turned to Jim, extending her hand. Jim’s own hands were shaking as he took hers and together they walked out of the courthouse, never to be heard from again.

The legend of Jim and Sara lives on, a story of faith, of hope and of a love that time, distance and circumstance could not destroy...

Yeah...I could have stretched this one out even longer, but you guys kept harassing me to end it. Missed parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6? This Thursday's Theme was "climate change." I'll do a real climate change post later...