Read Online If I Were Your Boyfriend by Earl Sewell - Free Book Online
Authors: Earl Sewell
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Courtroom Nine, Judge Nancy Hill. I swallowed hard as Officer Sanchez opened the door. I stepped inside and awaited further instructions.
"I'm going to take off the handcuffs. You are to have a seat over there next to the attorney your father has gotten to represent you." Officer Sanchez pointed to a bald-headed African-American man who wore glasses similar to those that fictional character Harry Potter wears. I said okay and did as I was told. As I moved deeper into the courtroom I saw my dad and acknowledged him by nodding my head in his direction. My mom was sitting as far away from him as possible. We made eye contact but did not exchange greetings through body language.
"Hi, I'm Rick Waters," the attorney said as he shook my hand. "I've been talking your case over with your father, who has filled me in on some of the problems you've been going through with your mother. I want to ask you a few questions before the judge enters the courtroom."
"Okay," I said. Mr. Waters asked me a series of questions about my relationship with my mother and my father. His tone was serious as he inquired about where I'd gotten alcohol from and how long I had been drinking. He also asked me how I was introduced to alcohol and how often I drank. I answered his questions openly and honestly. Just as we were finishing up, the judge entered the courtroom. Everyone had to rise to his or her feet when she entered and then sat back down after she did.
"Okay, I've read over the circumstances involving this case and I want to start by asking a few questions of Ms. Carter," said Judge Hill. "Ms. Carter, would you please have a seat up here next to me on the bench?"
I watched as my mom took a seat next to the judge. I could tell that she wasn't comfortable.
"Ms. Carter, can you explain to me what happened and why you reported your car stolen?"
"Yes." My mom paused for a second as she cleared her throat. "I was taking a nap and when I woke up to run an errand, I noticed that my car was gone. I didn't know what happened to it. I figured that it must have been stolen because my neighbor's car was stolen a few days earlier."
I held my head down in disgust. I could tell that not only was my mother telling a lie, but also by her speech patterns, she'd been drinking.
"Ma'am, do you allow your son, Wesley, to drive your vehicle?" asked Judge Hill.
My mother repositioned herself in her seat. Her body language was giving her away. Now it was not only clear to me that she'd been drinking, but Judge Hill was also suspicious. "You know, I let him drive sometimes. Around the neighborhood or to the— What do you call it?" My mom began snapping her fingers because she couldn't recall the word she was trying to say. "Oh, dammit, what's the damn word I'm searching for? You know the word." She looked at the judge for an answer.
"No, I don't know the word." Judge Hill appeared to be irritated with my mother. "And I ask that you refrain from cursing in my courtroom."
"The place where the kids go and buy clothes." Mom raised her voice to Judge Hill. "The mall." The word finally came to her.
"Ma'am, are you under the influence of any prescription medication or perhaps a narcotic?"
"I'm no damn drug addict," my mom snapped at Judge Hill.
"Ma'am, one more outburst like that and I will fine you," Judge Hill barked back at my mother. "Now answer my question. Are you under the influence of anything?"
"Okay." My mom began trying to explain herself. "I was just a little bit nervous." She squeezed her thumb and index finger closely together to emphasize her point. "So to help calm my nerves I had a little something to drink."
A very stern and dissatisfied expression washed over Judge Hill's face. She looked at her watch. "Ma'am, do you realize that it's only 10:30 a.m. and you're already intoxicated?"
"I'm not intoxicated," my mom snapped back at the judge. There was no way she was about to
"I'm going to take off the handcuffs. You are to have a seat over there next to the attorney your father has gotten to represent you." Officer Sanchez pointed to a bald-headed African-American man who wore glasses similar to those that fictional character Harry Potter wears. I said okay and did as I was told. As I moved deeper into the courtroom I saw my dad and acknowledged him by nodding my head in his direction. My mom was sitting as far away from him as possible. We made eye contact but did not exchange greetings through body language.
"Hi, I'm Rick Waters," the attorney said as he shook my hand. "I've been talking your case over with your father, who has filled me in on some of the problems you've been going through with your mother. I want to ask you a few questions before the judge enters the courtroom."
"Okay," I said. Mr. Waters asked me a series of questions about my relationship with my mother and my father. His tone was serious as he inquired about where I'd gotten alcohol from and how long I had been drinking. He also asked me how I was introduced to alcohol and how often I drank. I answered his questions openly and honestly. Just as we were finishing up, the judge entered the courtroom. Everyone had to rise to his or her feet when she entered and then sat back down after she did.
"Okay, I've read over the circumstances involving this case and I want to start by asking a few questions of Ms. Carter," said Judge Hill. "Ms. Carter, would you please have a seat up here next to me on the bench?"
I watched as my mom took a seat next to the judge. I could tell that she wasn't comfortable.
"Ms. Carter, can you explain to me what happened and why you reported your car stolen?"
"Yes." My mom paused for a second as she cleared her throat. "I was taking a nap and when I woke up to run an errand, I noticed that my car was gone. I didn't know what happened to it. I figured that it must have been stolen because my neighbor's car was stolen a few days earlier."
I held my head down in disgust. I could tell that not only was my mother telling a lie, but also by her speech patterns, she'd been drinking.
"Ma'am, do you allow your son, Wesley, to drive your vehicle?" asked Judge Hill.
My mother repositioned herself in her seat. Her body language was giving her away. Now it was not only clear to me that she'd been drinking, but Judge Hill was also suspicious. "You know, I let him drive sometimes. Around the neighborhood or to the— What do you call it?" My mom began snapping her fingers because she couldn't recall the word she was trying to say. "Oh, dammit, what's the damn word I'm searching for? You know the word." She looked at the judge for an answer.
"No, I don't know the word." Judge Hill appeared to be irritated with my mother. "And I ask that you refrain from cursing in my courtroom."
"The place where the kids go and buy clothes." Mom raised her voice to Judge Hill. "The mall." The word finally came to her.
"Ma'am, are you under the influence of any prescription medication or perhaps a narcotic?"
"I'm no damn drug addict," my mom snapped at Judge Hill.
"Ma'am, one more outburst like that and I will fine you," Judge Hill barked back at my mother. "Now answer my question. Are you under the influence of anything?"
"Okay." My mom began trying to explain herself. "I was just a little bit nervous." She squeezed her thumb and index finger closely together to emphasize her point. "So to help calm my nerves I had a little something to drink."
A very stern and dissatisfied expression washed over Judge Hill's face. She looked at her watch. "Ma'am, do you realize that it's only 10:30 a.m. and you're already intoxicated?"
"I'm not intoxicated," my mom snapped back at the judge. There was no way she was about to
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