Beating the system.

After things are said and done, my life will return to all I know — waking up, going to work, enjoying a lunch break, driving home, stopping for lottery tickets and beer on the way, showering, walking the dogs, playing with the dogs, making dinner, reading the news, watching jeopardy, consider doing laundry, deciding it's too much work, putting on headphones instead and drowning out the world with an edgy playlist of my favorite tracks that define a music era I never mentally left... (loses breath) A routine fit for King of the bachelors. More like The King of Misfortune.

But I'm innocent...

***

Entering the courtroom, I can feel every unreasonable eye tearing my character apart. At least give me a chance to make a convincing impression. They don't know me, only the charges brought on by a witness who thinks she saw me exiting a crime scene. She picked me out of a lineup. I was number four.

Yes, I’ve done my share of theft in the past. Haven't we all? It doesn’t discount my worth to society. It doesn't define who I am as an individual. It simply outlines the drastic choices I brought to life that I can easily blame on a rough childhood. Okay, maybe that's a weak excuse but I'm sticking with it.

Plus, the worst thing I ever got caught doing was writing a slew of bad checks. It’s not the smartest crime to commit. Anyone whose foolish enough to engage in check fraud will eventually get caught. Be warned.

The upside is it saved me a time or two from living on the streets and dumpster diving for dinner. Gross! That in itself is worth the three years probation I was sentenced to. And, I didn’t have to pay restitution for the few thousand dollars I swindled. Still can’t figure out how my public defender finagled that part...

I’m ready to take the stand and get this over with.

***

The jury looks like an angry band of caffein-deprived, mental patients. It's not my fault they are missing out on whatever it is they would be doing instead of their lawful obligation. Blame the witness for that. I'm here to prove this is truly a demeaning waste of time...

I'm not nervous or paranoid! Why would I be, I’m innocent! Then why do my arms look like I've turned into a goosebumped lizard? Probably some sort of stage fright.

The prosecutor looks angrier, like he just found out his wife’s been cheating. He also looks familiar. Wait! I swear he looks like Cameron Phelps; a guy I worked with at The Burger Palace when we were teenagers. Who can ever forget a kid with a dimpled chin and a huge gap between their front teeth. Add a little weight and a pair of prescription glasses and we have a thirty-something year old, Cameron.

Our eyes lock in a weird gaze. He recognizes me too. I wonder if he knew it was me from the day he received my case file. Hope he isn't a pretentious prick.

With confidence, I take a seat on the witness stand but can’t seem to get comfortable. Cameron methodically straightens his files and necktie before standing up to approach the jury. The courtroom is dead silent, except for loud gum chewing coming from one of my supporters. I should have never invited any of those good-for-nothing hoodlums I call friends. But we are all we have in this world. So, if they want to see how to beat a case, then let them.

After Cameron is done filling the jury's ears with a somewhat accurate, opening statement, he turns his beady eyes to me. Less than twenty four hours ago I gave myself stern advice while heating up a single serving of Stouffer's frozen lasagna. The advice is simple: Don’t say anything stupid or incriminating. I already know I'm a gifted rambler, so let’s see if the ole brain can keep that promise...

***

“Matheus Procter, it says here you reside at 4212 Decker Street in Summerland Falls. Is this correct?”

“Yes sir! Been there for three years. It's a great neighborhood. Just keep your doors locked at night and you'll be fine."

My voice is a little hoarse, like I scarfed down a dozen cotton balls for breakfast.

“A simple yes will do. Is it true you don’t have an alibi for the night of April 8th when the crime of burglary was committed on the 1100th block Sheridan Avenue?"

An obvious next question. I exhale with a deep sigh and answer.

"Unless you count Pepper and Skip, then the answer is yes, I do not have an alibi. I was home with them!"

"Would you mind telling us who Pepper and Skip is?"

"Oh, yeah! They're my dogs, sorry."

A few faint chuckles escape the peanut gallery. The judge gives them the evil eye. Cameron shakes his head and continues hurling the questions.

"Mr. Procter, does the name Samantha Martin ring a bell?"

"No. Should it?"

"She's the woman whose house was burglarized. She was enjoying a nice vacation during the incident and had several neighbors watching her property. One of which picked you out in a line up. Statistics say that victims are more likely to fall prey to this sort of crime when their away. You live only three blocks from the scene. Is this a coincidence or an accurate assessment of the charges against you?"

I wait for my sleepy lawyer to object...it never comes.

"What do you think I'm going to say! 'Oh, I was there alright, and you might want to tell her to keep her windows locked?' Of course it's a coincidence! I'm innocent and haven't committed a crime in over two or three years. Unless, of course, you consider jaywalking a felony, then, well, I'm guilty of that."

"Funny, coming from a guy who got fired from The Burger Palace for stealing a case of Sesame seed buns!"

The courtroom fills with gasps and mumbles.

With annoyance, the judge hammers his gavel and demands order. Like I said, I've done some stupid shit in the past, so what! It was ages ago! That doesn't prevent the embarrassment and sweat from appearing on my face. He just had to bring that up and take me down a notch. Prick!

A colleague of Cameron's silently rushes into the courtroom, excusing himself several times as he passes rows of people wondering what he’s doing. He graciously apologizes to the judge and asks for a quick conference. Both him and Cameron huddle at the judge's stand and begins whispering, keeping all the good stuff secret.

I'm praying it has to do with Cameron recusing himself from the case because of our past acquaintance. Will my prayers be answered?

Minutes go by. My sweating gets worse. All I want is to go home to Pepper and Skip.

Finally, they adjourn. The judge addresses me.

"Mr. Procter, during the initial investigation, law enforcement was unable to locate fingerprints. But just recently, unbeknownst to you, two of the stolen items were found discarded in Samatha's bushes. Several prints were lifted that do not belong to her. They also do not belong to you. This case is dismissed. You are free to go."

I wish I could see the look on my own face, it feels priceless! The peanut gallery celebrates like they do whenever the Kansas City Chiefs take a good beating.

I'm free and clear to go home! I never doubted myself for one minute!

Before leaving, I ask the judge a final question.

"Excuse me sir, when do I get the bail money back I posted weeks ago?"

He rolls his eyes.

***

Happily walking to the bus depot, my cellphone rings. I glance at the ID to see Sean's name displayed, smiling as I answer it.

"What up, bro!"

"What up! Are you done for the day? What happened? Don't keep me in suspense!"

"CASE DISMISSED! They did have fingerprints, but they didn't match mine, so they had to let me go. Which means... the prints are yours! You sure you don't have prints in the system?"

"Yeah, dude! I'm positive! Told you I've never been caught. This is the closest I've ever been. Thank you for covering my ass though. And sorry you got dragged into this. You could have easily told them about me but we both knew you wouldn't be convicted."

I met Sean for the first time a year ago—he'd been searching for me for ten. He finally found me one day, came knocking on my door. It was the most shocking meeting I've ever had...

Our estranged mother fell in the category of kids having kids. She was barely eighteen. Sadly, she gave us up shortly after birth, poor woman. I at least hope she was devastated, faced with letting us go.

Meeting Sean was like facing a mirror. You can imagine my eye-popping surprise to learn he is the twin brother I never knew I had.

Like the saying goes, the apple never falls to far from the tree, well, these apples were from the same tree and eerily lived parallel lives. I have to admit, he's a pretty good thief.

"Listen Sean, I think it's time we both give up crime for good. Seriously, court was no fun at all, and I don't know how many times a charade like this would work. And I hope you got rid of all that chick's stuff! Don't bring any of it into my duplex."

"Yep! It's all gone, sold it all far from here."

"Good, cause I'm not sure if double jeopardy applies to this situation, I would hate for them to reopen the case. Which reminds me, Jeopardy comes on in an hour. You wanna watch?"

"Hell yeah, man! You know I love that show!"