Trial of the Century - 6th part

Author’s Foreword:
Even thought the following short story does contain elements of reality, it is still a product of imagination therefore, it does not reflects actual events. The situations and dialogues described in this story might cause some stress or unpleasant moments for some readers, therefore discretion is recommended.
If you would like to leave a comment please contact: gitana82@gmail.com

*Author’s comment:
„Kids, please stop, go and ask Daddy before reading any further. Thanks”*

First part

He was used to living at dawn hours, when the sun is not that strong. It wasn’t his choice to live by night and hide by day, but he got used to it over the years. He tried hard not to mess up the body clock of his kids, but they wanted to spend him as much time as possible. So the bedtime story sometimes overleapt to late night, and morning came well before sunrise. To compensate for the lost hours of sleep, they had a nap or sieasta during daytime. This time though it was Grace the nanny looking after them. He was hoping she came up with a somewhat reasonable explanation on his disappearance in the last couple of days. Kids are clever.
Thoughts were speeding through his mind. He knew that if his doc finds out that he had not been eating a lot again, he would be in trouble; back on the dropper. He tried to eat, he really did- could not manage more than one or two bites...He wandered out of the house, thoughtful, not really knowing whereabouts he was going. He arrived to his favorite tree. This time though he did not climb up to sit with the birds – a race with their song was out of question now. They used to inspire him. Somehow he would have to find the means of letting all these feelings, all these thoughts leaving him...Writing..But he couldn’t. Didn’t have the strength. His last try, with the tape recorder, last night...was simply put: awful...too painful. Crap, he might delete it..too bad..not even to be put in the vault, just in case..no.,He sighed, turned and leaned his head onto this giant tree. He knew he is being watched. He wanted to cry, but ran out of tears... U cann no lonngerrr make me cryyy He turned around, grasping for air and slowly slided down to the ground, sitting cross legged. He felt exhausted. He realized everyone else around him was right: he really needs to gather some strength. Just a few minutes of walk completely drained him. His hair fell into his eyes, he wipeed it out..hated it. Looked around. His ranch. His place. His kingdom. Still he has not felt it home anymore, nowhere in this country is a place he call like that. But it was still better within than outside the gates. Abroad, he can’t go. Not until he got his passport back. He hoped his lawyers will do their duty and get it without any delay. All he wanted is away. Away from here. Doesn’t care where to, just away. His family has already started to look for a place, but he didn’t care. If it were up to him, he would take the first international flight from LAX once his papers are received.

Time to return to the house. Raymone is coming in the morning, the lawyers are on the turn in the afternoon. He was hoping to close this matter today and once and for all. Hoping he will not need to deal with stuff like: evidence; complaints, letters, consipiracy, statements and depositions. He was never interested in that type of thing, made him tired. He might finally have the time to care for his life and family. And music and dance, probably. Yes, he only had the music and dance left. Music, Music and me


1.
The kids, it seems have not noticed that the course of their life hang by a hair. He didn’t tell them anything yesterday, when he left for the courthouse. There are no words to describe.. You gave me strength/ When I wasn't strong The nanny was instructed that if things turn out the other way, she would tell them, he was involved in car crash. That would not have been a lie. He wouldn’t have hang around in there for a long time anyway... He forced himself to detour his toughts. At last, everything is fine now. He will make no more mistakes. He trusted people again, he shouldn’t have, and got burnt again; even though he fared ill once before. But no, he hasn’t learnt his lesson until now. And you still deal with the fires/ That they made.. From today on, he is not going to trust anyone. His bodyguard interrupted his thinking.
- Boss, a call. Aphrodite Jones. I will handle it, but thought, in case you might wanna speak to her.
- Aphrodite Jones?
- Journalist. Long brown hair. Strong voice. Fox TV.
- Bug her off. Thanks.
The bodyguard responded to the call:
- I am sorry Ms Jones. I can’t give you Mr. Jackson. He does not wish to talk to anyone now.
Michael shook head in disbelief, it has not even been 24hrs; and headed off to the playroom to meet his children. The thought of spending time with them again cheered up his soul.

2.
Even thought she has not even finished writing the Peterson book, she became interested in a new case. She could not understand how could this man be vindicated. Even thought she did not hate or despised him. As a teenager she liked his music. Memories came rushing, especially if she hears the song on the radio „Just call my name/ And I'll be there!” It is time to call that top secret number, bloddy hell; she thought; it is easier to get hold of the Oval Office than of someone at the Neverland Ranch. She was priviliged thought, she had the mobile number of his main bodyguard. She knew that her number will be blocked straight away. It still worths a try.
- Hello, I am Aphrodite Jones from FoxTV. Please don’t hang up. May I speak to Mr. Jackson, please?”
- Just a moment Ms. Jones, I shall ask. Not much chance thought.
- I am sorry Ms Jones. I can’t give you Mr. Jackson. He does not wish to talk to anyone now.
- Thank you. In case Mr. Jackson does wish to contact me, you can reach me on this number.
Well, what did she hope for? She should have waited a couple of days more. However that might be too late, as her informer from the court let her know Mesereau’s top priority was to get Jackson’s passport back, asap.

Michael was resting with the dropper still on his arm. However, he still felt pleased, at least more than during any of the previous months. This had been the first day, when he had nothing to do. No wake up call, no stress of getting ready, no questions to answer or listen to. And most of all: no court visits. He no longer has to sit listen to the testimonies, and bear without a notion all that going on. The trial exhausted him, and he just now started to feel that months passed by and he missed out on a lot! Especially in the last ten days. Waiting until the jury finished its deliberation. Nine nights of matter/ Black flowers blossom Teardrop on fire He couldn’t believe the comforting words of his lawyers, and all his legal expert advisers who were ont he opion that a quick and fast decision is never a positive sign. Easy for them, it it is not their life at stake, is it?.
His bodyguard announced that the lawyers have arrived. Michael nodded and pointed at the dropper. Basheer helped to release him, as his boss was really keen to finish this off. He wasn’t concerned about what the lawyers would say, he did not care, they had seen him in worse. But it was easier to get around without it and of course he did want to spare this sight for the benefit of his kids. He decided to meet the lawyers in the Library. His office would have felt crowded with four of them; it was full of presents, gifts, memories. They called it rattletraps or junk, but for him these were evidence: evindence of his belief that this life is worth living.
He greeted the two lawyers.
- Hi. The prosecutor of course wants to block proceedings, but he is trying to get some time. But not in a valid way, he has his staff on the job, but they are not getting through. Don’t worry, in a couple of days, you will have your passport back. This what is our priority, to get your papers back. From that clutter taken into custody as evidence, what would like to get back first?
- Laptops, at first, I guess - jumped into discussion her lawyer - Do you want the one given to the accuser?
- Couldn’t care less. If you get them back, use them. Or give it to a charity or a school. Or sale it, whatever. Whatever you feel like.
- Contracts, financial statements, ledgers etc?
- Please. I’d like to get those back.
- The Rolex?
- Was a present. They can have that trash if they desiere so.
- Your mags?
- What? Oh..erm….You joking?
Minutes passed in silence when Michael quietly rose to word. One could see he was worried, shy and embarrassed.
- The photos…From 93..Those ones…Can you?..
- I can’t promise but I will try my best. I swear you I will try.
- Bribe the judge, if it has to be..
- Are you out of your mind? That is illegal. If that surfaces, you are on your way to jail and no one…I am telling ya, no one, not even God himself, let alone me could get you outta there. Those pics were sealed in the safe ever since.
- Good for you. Would you wanna see you penis on the front page of any newspaper? Well, of course this can never happen to you. You are not Michael Jackson.
- Look. I understand that you would be willing to do anything to get those photos back and if there is any legal way to do so we will get them. But I can’t do more. I am not going to break the law, not even for your sake. I sincerely hope that no newspaper editor is daft enough to print them, even if they had had the opportunity to do so. Otherwise they would face not only your but my anger too.
- Anyway… – silence descented on the room. They had nothing else to say to eachother - If you want to..if you want, you can have the ranch to yourself. All services at your disposal.
- You saying I could ride the carosel?
- Well, I thought you – at your age- would like to watch a classic on the widescreen in the cinema, or go horse riding or anything, but If you want to go on the carosel, then you can. As you wish.
The lawyers laughed, and he also smiled a bit.
- Thank you. But I guess we will be out.
- All right. But will you then stay for dinner? I would like to thank you for everything you have done for me.
- OK. Deal. That is really kind of you.

The lawyer said yes to the invitation with the hope that he at least can have a sneak peak at how the health of his client is progressing. Even thought his assignment ended on the day of the verdict, and he would usually keep a safe distance from the private matters of his clients, he couldn’t just walk away yet. He remembered the first moment he met him. Looking into his dark eyes, he felt he could read his mind: they were thinking the same: "Can I trust this person." Somebody's watching me He did see lot of emotions reflecting in that pair of eyes: certinity in his innocence. Happiness when he was playing with his children. Condolence when the lawyer’s sister passed away. Anger, when he felt useless. Fatigue. Sadness. Whatever he felt thought, whatever his eyes gave away, there were something to him, something elusive. The genius. He was gifted, no one can ever question that - if you weren’t insane. It might be too poetic from the mouth of a lawyer, but he thought his client was like a melody in real life. Divinity in motion

They had thanksgiving before dinner. God have mercy/ Stop them destroying me/ An angel came to me/ To save my life It seemed the kids have not noticied anything in the past few months. They were jabbering, laughing, but still remaining very polite. They all thanked both lawyers. Their father thought had hardly eaten anything off his plate during the whole dinner. Whilst trying to make an effort to consume food, he tought of his first meeting with Mesereau: his blue eyes, querying his mind and soul guilty or innocent. He withstood his strong look. He thought, the lawyer might be strong, but not soulless. One could tell he had a passion for his profession, something he could understand and value people for, as he was living his life the same way, too. Months to come, he has seen a grow of respect and sympathy in those clear blue eyes. Water is my eye/ Most faithfull mirror But he got lost to feel it. The trial, has worn him out. It became increasingly hard to see who is friend who is foe. Especially now that everyone was firing hurtful questions at thim or making comments torning up wounds.

Even though the lawyer was not completely reassured he did feel a sense of relief having seen his client giving an effort and at least trying to eat something. He remembered their first meeting. He did feel a bit unsure but looking back he now knows he had done the right thing when setting down the groundrules: „You will not be late. You will not be parading on top a car! And say goodbye to the NOI guys” and his client complied. TMez made it clear for him that the courtroom is his homeground.
- Your stage is my courtroom.
As he looked up from his thoughts he realized it might be time to let the master of the house to retire for the day. He winked to his partner to let her know, now it is to go. The lead bodyguard came to escort them out. The lawyer pulled him aside at the bottom of the staircase:
- Mr. Basheer! May I ask you for a favour please?
- Sure, I guess.
- Give Michael two more days to rest. Then give him a smack in the face. Nope, let it rather be two. Don’t hurt him, just be kind; but he needs one..and it would do him good.
The guard was left standing speechless as he watched the lawyers sped off the driveway.

To be continued

7th part