Howdy folks...It's time for another update on the case.
On August 29th i attended yet another re-re-re-re-re-scheduled Preliminary Hearing. I dunno how many of these things i have been to. Every time we get into the courtroom, something happens, and the re-schedule the damn thing. It gets frustrating watching the gears grind. It's been almost a year since the accident. A year of frustrating disappointments. I used to have faith in our legal system, as flawed as it is. Now... Not so much!
Anyway, I arrived at the courthouse a few minutes late. (thanks to being caught in an impromptu traffic jam a block from the courthouse. (Don Rumsfeld's motorcade...The bastard!)
I walk into the courthouse thinking im in deep s**t. In actuality I was still early, due to the lightning speed at which our legal system operates. I meet with the ADA, and the cops. We go over the case yet again, discuss the case stategy, and head into the courtroom.
I was pretty psyched up at this point. I was finally going to get on the witness stand and look this bastard in the eyes, and tell my story to the judge... Or so i thought.
Actually, i was half right. I did get to look him in the eye.
The ADA started the case. They went over the usual details of the case. How, when, who, etc, etc, etc...Then the Defense Weasel asks to approach the bench. The attorneys approach, and begin the usual whispering and murmuring. Then all of a sudden the judge announces that they should retire to his chambers to further discuss whatever it was that they were discussing.
I look over at the Detective sitting next to me. He leans into me and says... "I don't like the looks of this". I just groaned and shook my head. What now?
After a couple of minutes, we start hearing the attorneys arguing. Whatever they were discussing, it must have been ugly. It sounded like a screaming match. After a few minutes they come walking out. The ADA has a real pissed off look on her face. The Detective looks at me and says "I'm guessing we put on the ties for nothing again". I'm freaking out at this point. The judge comes back in, and calls the case. They bring in the dirtbag. He seems much smaller than I remember. But then again he was sitting in a totalled car the last time we saw each other. He starts scanning the crowd, looking for a familiar face.
Well he found one... Mine.
We locked eyes. He looked as if he was trying to figure out where we had seen each other before. Which amused me to say the least. But while i was looking at him, he figured out where he had seen me before. He immediately looked down at the floor. I kept staring at him. All the anger and hatred that i have been feeling over the past few months was re-surfacing again. I was less than five feet away from him. I could reach over and snap his neck like a twig if i wanted. By the time the bailiffs could have done anything about it, he would be dead. I have never actually considered killing him, but i entertained the though of the possibility. Let the system do the job on him i decided. But i kept staring. He would glance over at me occasionally, but couldnt look me in the eye. he knew who i was, and knew what he did.
So the judge says to the courtroom that this case would again be re-scheduled. WHAT? Again?? Jesus!
I walk out into the hall with the detective. A few minutes later the ADA calls me into the conference room. I was followed by the detective, and a couple of the patrolman who were there that night. I could tell that whatever it was, it wasn't good. The ADA informs me that she was no longer assigned to the case... She was now being called as a witness, and as such could not be allowed to prosecute the case. Conflict of interest and all.
I asked her why, and she said that the defense weasel has convinced the judge that my testimony could be tainted because of the whole snafu at the first botched police lineup (See Witless for the Prosecution III), and that she was now being called as a witness in the next preliminary hearing.
I was speechless. But it gets worse. They re-re-re-re-re-re-scheduled the hearing for October 17th. The one year anniversary of Claude WIlliams death.
I went home and worked my way through the better part of a bottle of Jamisons.
Thanks for reading,
thatoneguyinslc