Get It Girls (8 page)

“Have you all been advised of your rights?”

The girls nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You have been charged with section 125.25-Murder in the second degree.”

None of the girls could believe what they were hearing. Their knees suddenly became weak, and a shriek from their parents resonated from behind them, filling the air. Lynn lost the battle and collapsed to the floor. She had to be lifted back to her feet by her attorney.

Pandemonium ensued in the background as their parents lost control and tearfully voiced their displeasure. The judge called for order. Three court officers approached the offending parties and warned them that they faced expulsion if they didn’t settle down.

When the room finally settled to his satisfaction, the judge turned his attention back toward the girls and continued. “Will each defendant state your name and enter your plea?”

In order, each girl stated their name and pleaded not guilty. “Ok,” stated the judge, “in the matter of bail, Mr. Rickman, does the State have an opinion on bail?”

Mr. Rickman, a short, thin man with horn rimmed glasses, quickly responded, “Yes, your Honor, the State of New York request that bail be set at fifty thousand dollars each in light of the severity of the crime.”

There was another brief outburst from the seats behind them where their parents sat, but it quickly waned.

Jessica’s lawyer hurriedly stepped forward and made his rebuttal. “Your Honor, my name is Donovan Butler, from the law firm of Garret, Holden, and Butler, located at 189 Greenwich Street, representing Jessica Jones.”

Vonda, Lynn, and Tiny’s lawyer followed suit and entered his name for the record also.

Mr. Donovan continued. “Your Honor, my client comes from a stable home, and her mother and father are in the courtroom with her today.” He turned and pointed them out to the judge before continuing. “My client has just graduated from a Catholic high school and received a partial scholarship to go to a prestigious college in Atlanta this fall. Her parents own their own property right here in the city, and both have been stable, productive city and government employees for over twenty years each. The fact that all the defendants, at the time of the incident, waited for the proper authority to arrive shows their character and innocence, I may add. I request that Miss Jones be released on her own recognizance.”

Vonda, Lynn, and Tiny’s attorney basically repeated the same thing and also requested that the girls be released on recognizance.

The judge stared sullenly at the four young girls, then at the weary eyed parents behind them. “Bail is set at five thousand dollars each.”

S
ince the bond was only five thousand dollars, the girls’ parents only had to post five hundred dollars, which was ten percent of the bail. One hour later, all the girls were released.

Both lawyers told them that if everything checked out, the case probably wouldn’t make it past the grand jury. Lynn asked what the grand jury was.

Attorney Williams explained it. “It’s a body of elected jurors who are presented the information on the case and given facts. They then weigh whether or there is enough body of evidence to seek prosecution. In this case, it shows that the other parties were the aggressors, and that you were only defending yourselves at the time of Denise’s death. If you’ve told us everything, there’s an excellent chance of the charges being dropped and thrown out.”

They were given their date to show up back to court, and the lawyers promised to stay in touch and that they could be reached by phone if they had any more questions.

By the time Jessica and her family got home that night, they were exhausted. Jessica never realized how good she had it until getting home and into her own bed. It was a far cry from the uncomfortable concrete floor or wood benches in the jail cell she was in for nearly twenty four hours.

Since school had ended, Jessica spent the next few days home alone in bed. Each time she’d wake up hoping it was all just a bad dream and that it had never happened. But each time she would wake up and realize that she wasn’t dreaming, she cried herself back to sleep again. Then one day, her mother told her she had a phone call—it was from Kenny.

“Hey, Jessica, this is Kenny. How are you doing, baby?”

Jessica paused and looked up toward the ceiling, blinking back the tears, unsure how to answer. “Kenny, I don’t know if you heard, but . . . me and the rest of the girls got into an incident the night of the prom and . . .” Jessica’s voice began to crack.

“I know, Jessica. You don’t have to explain. Stevo talked to Vonda and she told him all about it. I’m just so sorry it had to happen. It was my fault. I should have made sure you got home like I was supposed to . . .”

Jessica leaned up against the wall closest to her and shook her head. “No, it’s not your fault, Kenny. You had no way of knowing what was going on.”

Kenny closed his eyes, genuinely concerned that he had a part in her predicament.

“But, I . . .” said Kenny as his voice cracked, “I should have been there for you, and I feel bad that it had to go down like that. I could’ve been there to protect you. You are my girl.”

Jessica lost her fight to hold back her tears. “You still want to be with me even though you know what happened?”

He quickly answered, “Yes, baby. It wasn’t your fault, and you got to believe that. It was an accident. An accident,” he repeated. “The court’s going to see that and everything will be ok. You’ll see.”

Jessica put her hand over her mouth and began to cry even more. She knew that Kenny really loved her and it made her feel better to know he was still in her corner.

“I love you, Kenny,” she whispered into the phone.

“Mwen remen ou, Jessica.”

**********

Two weeks later, Jessica and her parents received the call that they were waiting for from their attorney, Donovan Butler. He told them that he had to meet with them in his office immediately to discuss matters surrounding the case. They scheduled an appointment for the following day. The expression on his face was somber as he welcomed them in to have a seat in his office.

He got straight to the point and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Jessica, I’m afraid to tell you this but that grand jury had voted to indict Jessica and the other girls on second degree murder charges.

They closed their eyes and shifted uneasily in their chairs.

Jessica’s father asked, “How could that be? My daughter and her friends were the victims here, and they were being assaulted. This isn’t fair.”

“I know, Mr. Jones, but at this point the grand jury found enough substantiation to go forward in the case with the evidence that was presented to them.”

Mrs. Jones inquired suspiciously, “What evidence?”

“Well,” their attorney answered, “the police recovered the knife that was involved. It had Jessica’s fingerprints on it, along with the deceased girl’s blood type, and the dead girl blood was not only on Jessica’s person, but . . .” he put on his glasses and read from the indictment and continued, “Vonda’s and Lynise’s body and clothing as well. They even have a statement from the girl who was originally arrested and eventually cleared on all charges.”

Infuriated, Mrs. Jones questioned, “What do you mean cleared of all charges? She was the aggressor! She was the one who started all the trouble. How the hell is she going to be cleared of all charges? What about the other girls that were involved in this? Didn’t they find them?”

Mr. Butler paused, pondering how to tell them that it was the least of their concerns. He clasped his hands and simply told them the truth. “Well, the other girls that were supposed to be involved were never actually substantiated. The only eyewitness remembered specifically seeing a total of four people and a deceased body on the floor. It all comes down to your words against theirs and the evidence that was left at the scene. And the other victim in this case claims that you were the aggressors that originally produced a knife.”

Jessica jumped up and said furiously, “That is a lie! We didn’t start anything, and that was their knives.” She looked at her parents and pleaded, “Mommy, Daddy, you got to believe me. We didn’t start anything; they started with us by putting the knives to our throats and throwing us in the building.”

Mr. Butler put his hand up and agreed. “I believe you, Jessica, but the fact remains that the State of New York found sizable and ample enough evidence to charge you, and now it comes down to her word against yours. That’s what bothers me,” he said. Then he added, talking more to himself, “They must have something more concrete.” He looked Jessica in the eyes before continuing, “Now Jessica,” he asked sternly, “is there something, anything that you haven’t told me about the case that might be pertinent for me to know before we move on? Because if you’re holding anything back, it may come out in court and blow up in our faces. I just need you to be honest with me to cover all the bases.”

All three looked at Jessica, awaiting her response until she finally answered, “No, I told you everything. We had problems with them in the past, and they would always bother us coming from or going to school. We went to our prom, came home, and that’s when everything happened. That’s it.”

Mr. Butler searched her face for a moment, smiled and said, “Ok, let’s move on. We’ll go through everything later.” He turned his attention to a folder that already had her name on it and opened it. “I received information on the victim by messenger service, just before you arrived.” He began scanning the papers and began to read the aloud. “The deceased’s name was Denise Jackson, twenty years old, some college and stable home with no prior arrests. Her mother was deceased since she was five and her father . . .” His sudden pause soon concerned them all. He finally looked up at the Jones and repeated, “Her father is district Councilman Jonathan Jackson.” He took off his glasses and began to rub his now weary eyes.

Mr. Jones asked, “So what does that mean?”

He looked at Mr. Jones and said, “It means he’s got a lot of political clout and that Jessica is in for the fight of her life.” He changed the subject and got down to business. “Mr. and Mrs. Jones, this would be a better time than any to discuss trial fees. And I can tell you right now that this will go to trial and could be very costly.”

Mr. Jones sat erect. “Sir, my baby’s life is on the line here, whatever the cost is I will get it, even if it means taking out a second mortgage on my home.”

Mr. Butler smiled, just so, and said, “Good, good. I’ll have my secretary give you some papers to sign later. In the meantime, Jessica, we need to go over everything from the very beginning again. Starting from the first time you ever had a run-in with the deceased and her friends.”

Jessica exhaled and started from the beginning.

**********

The following evening

Ring...ring...ring...

Jessica picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”

“Yo, Jessica.” It was Vonda, who immediately sounded as if something was wrong. “Turn to Channel 5. We on the news.”

She dropped the phone and raced to the living room where her father sat, and she saw that he was already watching the news. She shifted her attention to the television and sure enough the corresponding reporter was in Harlem in front of the same building the incident took place in.

“It was here, on a cool and breezy night when two female friends were allegedly on their way home from bible study, and it was also then where four neighborhood toughs, also females, ended the short life of Councilman Jonathan Jackson’s daughter, Denise Jackson, twenty.”

They showed a picture of Denise Jackson, possibly a junior high school photo which made her look much younger and innocent.

“It was inside here, in the rear of this dimly lit Harlem tenement, where the two girls were dragged into the building at knifepoint, robbed, and ultimately, where Denise Jackson lost her life.”

The scene switched to the steps of City Hall, where Councilman Jackson stood grim faced before a press conference.

“My daughter was an innocent victim of a malicious street crime, and I will do everything in my power to bring all defendants to justice for my daughter. Crimes like these are far too common, and the police department must do more to clean up the streets and put criminals like my daughter’s killer away to make our streets safer to walk again. But, I promise you this, I will be right there every day, front row, center to ensure justice is delivered so my daughter’s death won’t be in vain. Thank you.”

**********

The next day, all the girls met up in the park on 136th and St. Nicholas by the basketball courts to discuss the case and what they’d said to their lawyers. This was the first time they were all together since getting out of Central Booking, in downtown Manhattan. The park was still empty when everyone finally arrived, so they found a bench in the corner of the park and began to make small talk. It seemed like everyone waited for Vonda to start the real discussion, but she remained silent.

For the first time since Jessica met Vonda over four years earlier, she saw actual fear in her eyes. Jessica decided to take lead and asked, “So, what went down with your lawyer?”

Vonda looked up from where she was sitting and shrugged. “He said that we could be sentenced to ten years. That’s all I heard.”

Jessica stared in her eyes and it was clear that she was afraid.

Lynn stood up and began pacing. “I can’t do ten years in prison. We didn’t even do anything. Why is this happening to us?” she said, almost hysterically.

Tiny remained silent and only stared at the ground.

Vonda stood. “How the fuck could they turn this shit around on us to make it look like we was the ones who was robbing them? It’s just not right.” Jessica watched her friend wipe a tear from the side of her eyes. “I mean, we coming from our prom, our fucking prom and they think we gonna look to rob somebody in our dresses? And why they never found Tay-Tay and the two other girls? That’s some bullshit!”

Seeing their leader break down caused them all to feel hopeless, so Jessica added, “Don’t worry, though,” she nodded, “all this is going to come out in court and we going to—”