CATATONIC CLARITY

     “Mr. Tamagini, Mr. Kelly, is there anything else we need to discuss before I bring the jury in for closing arguments?”  Rising, I respond to Judge Hughes: “No your honor,” then drop back to my seat like a jack – in –the- box.”  I expect the same from Attorney Kelly; a sneaky, loud mouth, low life, scumbag of a high profile public defender whose talent has tarnished leaving him to intimidate opponents and attempt to manipulate members of the bench who he’s known for years, but for some reason Kelly says nothing.

     Last year, during my first trial against him, Kelly spent an obscene amount of time at side bar discussing the Red Sox with Judge Rollins as though I wasn’t there.   The jurors waited patiently across the courtroom believing we were discussing some important aspect of the case while I stood silently astonished the Judge entertained this conversation.  His Honor was a harmless old timer who meant no offense.  Conversely, Kelly used this tactic to exploit my inexperience and tout his relationship with the judge.  Then, while we walked back to our tables, he shielded his mouth with a legal pad and dropped all subtleties:  “I am going to kick your fucking ass all over this courtroom,” he spat venomously under his breath.  “First I’m going to embarrassed you, then I’m going to slap that stupid look of your fucking face.”   Three years of law school and I struggled to recall a single course on bullying.

     Kelly knew his tactic would derail my train of thought.  Under the weight of every eye in the courtroom the witness awaited my next question but like a freshman fighter, taunted in the ring by an older opponent, my game plan began to unravel.  Beyond public embarrassment what Kelly wanted most was for me to bring this to the Judge, making me look mentally unstable as he shrugged behind my back with raised palms and rolled eyeballs.  The result would label me as a rat who cracked under pressure, something that would live in courthouse infamy for the rest of my career.

     Returning to the podium I swallowing hard, pausing for a long moment under the pretense of thought gathering, then I managed to squeeze out the next question. Thoughts of the victim and her family carried me.  Hour preparing in the presence of the photo placed giving up beyond consideration.  Disturbing as it was I forced my eyes to study it, not to become used to it or make it less real but never to forget. Propped up on my desk I worked with it there from months.  From the other side of no one knew.  At night I locked it in my draw then put it back the next day.  Taken on arrival in emergency the a slab of torn flesh looked more like a butcher’s choice cut than the elegant hand of a sixteen-year-old.  What Kelly couldn’t understand was this went much deeper than me.  Perhaps I was delusional or having a pinnacle moment of clarity but I felt like an instrument of justice.  And despise him as I did, Kelly taught me a valuable lesson: no one else can control my emotions.  My initial silence however, was indeed a catatonia induced by the shock of his words.

     Sitting in silence, with Kelly and his client directly behind me at the defense table, I continued waiting for his response to Judge Hughes.  When finally I heard him stand a few more uncomfortable seconds passed, causing me to braced myself for the worst.  Dishonest to his core I knew Kelly’s capacity for cunning, but what came next was pure evil.  

     “Your Honor, there is one thing.  Last year I tried a case with Mr. Tamagini, the Woburn Bombing, where a young woman suffered a horrific injury leaving her maimed and disfigured.  During his closing argument Mr. Tamagini became emotional, to the point of tears in front of the jury…”

   These words triggered a spike of cold fluid to shoot up my spine, ringing a bell at the base of my skull; any hair the esthetician missed during my last back waxing stood straight on end, and it was the first time I can honestly say not being armed with a hand gun saved me from life in prison.

 “ …  And should Mr. Tamagini shed a tear here today judge, I want to put the court on notice I will be requesting an immediate mistrial.”

     The gallery was shoulder to shoulder with spectators including my parents, fiancé’ Michelle and network television cameramen.   With each syllable Kelly spewed the tension grew more palpable.  Even Judge Hughes, who took great pride in controlling his courtroom, didn’t anticipate this ambush.   I felt a sliver of fear rise in my stomach with the threat of pulling me into that catatonic state.

     Inaction was the easy road.  No witness stood waiting for a question, my back was to everyone except the Judge, and there wasn’t time to consider the consequences: write-ups in the papers, highlights on the news, what people would say about me.   Kelly’s stinging remarks required no response, allowing me to opt for silence.  It was a defining moment in my career.  One I was born to fail at.
-STAY TUNED-