Chapter Twenty-One: The One With The Trial

Sitting among the crowd before a judge, was never something that crossed my mind. I've seen it in movies, and read it in books of course, and I've always expected it to be something that only showed itself in those places.

The scenes or pages had so much thrill, and it put you on edge for what was to come, but in real life it wasn't like that. Or in a way it was, with this big blanket of overheating that makes you wonder to blame your anxiety or the below average air conditioning.

I was on the side of the province, with Rachel and her aunt on the opposite 'team' - which is dumb to say; it's like I'm talking about a life threatening basketball game - and that made the situation gooey; it was something icky between the fingers that began to bite once it got deep into the skin. From there it drained you until you went empty of blood, or of emotions, or of will to live - I honestly have not a clue.

"Why are people even here? They don't have anything to do with me! Do they not have lives? Screw off, hoes!" Rachel yelled. She had turned around to face us, and for a split second our eyes crossed each other's. I've never seen so much hate in one pair of eyes. How Camille ever put up with that for longer than I just did, was a miracle in itself. She might've been superhuman in that kind of term, but she never was immortal and that shows, unfortunately.

The lawyer nudged the girl going off, attempting to calm her, but typical for her client that I happen to know more than I wish I did, when Rachel wasn't done, she wasn't done. End of story. An unlucky person had to suffer through keeping accidental eye contact with her for longer than I did, predator to prey. "Hey! You! Whatcha think you're looking at? Get your eyes off of me!"

The room circled with whispers, of worry and concern for the girl up front shouting, but the loudest one was of her lawyer herself, who had to whisper-yell to get her to stop. Her command for Rachel ended up shutting everyone up, quieting down each as they readied themselves for the event. "If you don't like people looking at you, don't look at them, crazy one. Keep your face forward. Present yourself well for the judge. We're not on the good side of this as it is, and the best we can do is put you both out as not guilty by insanity. You realize this don't you? It's between a mental institute or prison. If you choose prison, keep going off, I guess."

The whispers perked up again, in a daze if they had heard her right, and it was her lawyer's time to go red in the cheeks, after speaking out a little too loud. She held the spotlight accidentally.

Thankfully for her in that circumstance, the judge made her presence, sitting high up on her seat like it was a throne. By the look on her face, she knew that the room was in her control, and that she was a queen for the next while until this was over. In any other scenario though, we knew this meant business, and that was terrifying for all of us. I prefer to believe I'm not the only one absolutely quaking.

"Be polite, you got that? Remember what I told you." Her lawyer added, situating herself straight at the judge. She nodded, and from the back of her head it looked like there was urgency in it that low-key begged for the occasion to begin, so Rachel couldn't get in another word. That was understandable. She's a hassle. I would've acted the same way if I were her. Professionalism gets hard when you're dealing with the chaos that is Rachel. I've given her the benefit of the doubt for much too long, but not anymore.

"We are hearing the matter of the island of Bohol against Giselle Dela Cruz and Rachel Omosura. This is docket number four-seven-two. Please be seated." The woman up on her throne began. I had followed the actions of the people around me, standing and returning to my seat, but her opening words had went through one ear and out the other. I had too much going on in my head that I couldn't understand, that understanding someone else took deliberate attention. I can only hope I look normal on the outside when I'm being buried alive on the inside. "We will be getting into a preliminary hearing. Counsel representatives please stand and identify."

The man of the island stood up first, straightening his tie and quickly putting any loose strands of hair back into place. "CJ Rendon, on behalf of the island, your honor."

"Novah Tuazon, your honor, representing Miss Omosura and Mrs. Dela Cruz." The woman did an act of her own, her ponytail swaying behind her, which she stopped in her palm to place over her shoulder.

The judge nodded, unfinished with her lists of requests. "Will the defendants please stand." She shifted her gaze to the two women who I've had every fake pleasure of knowing, and as she said it, the 'please' didn't seem to hold any value, because her voice was bold and felt like the shadow of an overly tall building casting across the room. They may have listened out of fear, despite how I know them to be afraid of nothing. The judge was truly frightening. "You are Rachel Omosura and Giselle Dela Cruz, the individuals mentioned in this matter and complaint. Is that correct?"

"It is, your honor." They said together. It was the most formal I've ever seen them, like their words were choreographed.

"Do you then agree for Novah Tuazon to speak for you both today?"

"I do, your honor."

"Rachel Omosura, you are charged with an act of murder in the first degree, and due to transfer of intent, also conspiracy to commit murder. The maximum penalty you may be facing is death." For emphasis the human on the throne paused, seeming to stare everyone down into their souls. "And Giselle Dela Cruz, you are charged with an act of murder in the first degree. The maximum penalty you may be facing is life in prison. Understood?"

"Yes, understood, your honor."

Your honor, your honor, your honor. I know that it's part of a hearing, and it was done in order to show some form of respect, - which kudos to that, really, it might be what's keeping things in line - but it hurt my ears after a while. I don't know why I feel hypocritical and like I'm stepping out of my boundaries because of a simple thing that's so unsettling to me, but I do despise it, deeply. It's as if every time it's said it gets a little harder to breathe.

The very best I could do is keep my head forward, my legs crossed, and my hands at my knee, so they weren't so obviously trembling and giving me away.

"Is the Island Representative prepared to proceed?" The judge continued. I started to envy her. She has such a job, and she had the strength to eventually get used to it, face it head on, like she was stronger than people who had the gut to end someone's life, or much more than that. I freak out when a wave unexpectedly gets too close. Am I abnormally childish or is she abnormally powerful? If I'm never meant to know, I do feel better to convince myself it's the second.

"I am, your honor." The man she was granting her permission to begin, began as told. He had some gut too, to face this kind of job however often it is. If I'd learned anything today it's probably that a practice in law isn't for me. "I would like Officer Christyl Jane Digal to the stand please."

I kept my eyes on her as she got up, but her glare stuck on the defendants made up of building blocks of suspicion and angst; like if they had any thoughts of getting out of this on the easiest note, that they'd have to think again once she walked into the room; that things weren't going to go their way. Secretly, I liked that.

I might want absolute hell for those people that I can't believe have been allowed to exist all this time like they they're actually a human, but that wasn't all I liked Christyl for. She's the one that listened to me, and it's because of her that had the chance to see a glimmer of hope that if things can't get okay again, they can improve. I entrusted her with what was everything to me, and she didn't disappoint, though people could've been disappointed in her if something went wrong. She's a savage like that, and in some ways, we need more of them on the earth.

She stood up on the stand. With the nerves that made her normal, I saw myself, but with the side that gave up nothing, I saw a spark of inspiring. That glow of hope could never die down when it came to her. She goes big and that's it; there's no other option. She came to win.

"Your honor," she started off with acknowledgement, nodding her head slightly at the woman in charge. "We first have evidence to prove that Giselle Dela Cruz is guilty of several offenses, in an extremely aware state of mind."

A screen of static turned on with its famous zig zagged black and white lines, but after a couple clicks of a remote it pictured a document- appearing to be two identical copies of Camille's medical records, that is, if you only gave it a look. It was far from that, actually, and she was starting to point it out with the red laser at the end of her pen.

"Camille Lobrigas was said and believed to have passed without any evidence of struggle or fight against another person. Every detail of her record pointed to a suicidal overdose." The laser circled bits and pieces of the first document, but it's as it dragged its way to the second that I got more interested in what she was gonna bring out. To emphasize her point more, it was enlarged. "Authorities have found after looking into the records of Tagbilaran City Hospital, the document was edited and updated by Dela Cruz after she had passed. It originally stated that the late Lobrigas though died of an overdose, had suffered from a dislocated left shoulder, a broken left ankle, bruising on her neck indicating strangling, and internal bleeding in the abdomen area which is clearly not self inflicted. We've also found Giselle's blood in between the cracks of the front doorframe of their house, which points to a break in. She likely cut her finger on the glass piece of the door to unlock it from the inside. A gun that only she and her husband Cody, have touched was found on their property as well. She has claimed to have been paid by Miss Omosura, who has confessed to the crime, your honor."

My sobs came out as unidentifiable sounds as she spoke, that I didn't realize right away I was expressing until a few people turned their heads. The proof that she found was a good thing; I'm glad that punishment is surely going to be put where it belongs or that it's going in that direction, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't rather have the person show up again. It's been two years, and this is the best that can be done by now, but it wasn't easy to hear.

"Therefore, your honor, it is reasonable to believe that Giselle Dela Cruz had entered without permission to the Lobrigas home when Camille was alone. Because she was armed, she threatened her to take her own life, by overdose. Due to personal fears and shock, she was slow to obey her order, in which Giselle relied on force as an initial warning: injuring her shoulder, strangling, adding pressure to her ankle, and possibly kicking the abdomen area. After her injury, she had forced her weakened state to limp to the medicine cabinet for the pills. She wrote out a suicide note and swallowed them as told with the gun at her temple to preserve her own life. When medical personnel arrived, Dela Cruz escaped out the side door, toward the back, and around to the other side, where she hid the gun in the soil. A crowd was forming out front, which she joined, to make it appear she was curious of what happened. She came to work soon after to find that her colleague was assigned to care for Camille, and had then changed the record after that nurse had finished her shift, and after Camille had passed away. This is too carefully thought out and analytical to be work of a mental state that was unaware."

Christyl pointed the remote at the screen, and the power point switched onto the next page. This photo showed the angle in diagrams that a bullet had entered the human head. Beside it, was camera shots from video footage of a young woman in a dark colored coat, and another middle aged woman in typical house clothes wandering on the side of the street. The laser on her pen circled around the younger girl.

"The offense on Rachel's behalf is the same way your honor. She was extremely aware of what she was doing while behind the trigger. The defendant herself had also stated in interrogation that her target was done purposely to prolong hurt on her friend, Crishia Lobrigas, emotionally. Samuel Dela Cruz' body was discovered in the woods, with a bullet lodged into the back of his skull. He was in critical condition when he was found, and died on arrival at the hospital. The late Camille's sister, witnessed this murder, and cctv's of the traffic light on the local road do confirm her story. Though the shooting was done out of frame, Rachel in the navy jacket is last seen with the gun in her hand when the shot is fired. Several in the neighborhood claimed to have heard the shot when it went off and have stated that they had even peeked outside their windows to find a young woman and a middle aged woman out in the middle of the sidewalks at the time of the noise."

The man representing the island seemed proud and content, even overly satisfied with the work Christyl had shown. Both Rachel and Giselle had their stare in a trance at their feet, and the judge was appearing to already be convinced. To add to that conviction, the representative asked Christyl additional questions. "What was the link between the suspects and the victims?" He chose to ask.

The girl he put his trust in didn't hesitate. "Camille was Rachel's best friend, and was a close family friend of the Dela Cruz and Omosura families. Samuel was Rachel's cousin, and Giselle's second child. They have strong links among each other, and are not at random, which leaves more room for motive and reason." She faced the source of the question, but as she pondered more on an idea, she turned back to the judge. "By the look on the defendants faces your honor, and the combination of this proof, there is no sense of them pleading not guilty by insanity. They clearly remember and were fully present at the time of the murders and went through with it on their own free will. In addition, neither defendants have history of mental illness."

The woman on the throne didn't ask her questions, but put her attention on Rachel, Giselle, and their spokesman. "Defendants, is the information presented accurate?"

Their lawyer scrambled for the words to say. In her hesitation, it couldn't be more obvious that she didn't have a basis for response after such thorough evidence on the opposite team. "Yes your honor but-." She attempted, but she was not allowed to finish.

"Rachel Grace Omosura, you're charged with 75 years in prison without the possibility of parole for the murder of Samuel Dela Cruz and involvement in the case of Camille Lobrigas. Giselle Dela Cruz, you're charged with 58 years in prison without the possibility of parole for the murder of Camille Lobrigas and with the document falsification white collar crime according to Chapter 73, Title 18. Case closed."

The tap of the gavel came, striking with an echo across the room, loud enough that not a single person could pretend that they didn't hear it. It was the punctuation mark of it all. The period, and I knew that it was over. It was over, and heading in the direction for the better, with what was deserved for the monsters.

The one thing I'll remember is the last words of the lawyer to Rachel and Giselle. "Remember that it could've been worse." She had told them. "Remember that you haven't gotten the worst of it."