Marissa’s Murder and a Road toward Hope
By: James Finn
Tags: Fiction, LGBTQ, HIV, Gay, Transgender

Pat steers us into the courtroom by the elbows, past squinty-eyed armed guards and through gaggles of chattering lawyers and dead-eyed reporters in fancy clothes. Her detective partner’s been holding seats for us.

It still feels creepy, even though I was a witness and even though I attended some of the trial after my testimony. I can’t get used to being around cops.

Fucking Tomas! I can’t cope with what that bastard did to her.

I guess Pat sees me clenching my teeth as we sit down. She grabs my hand and squeezes, whispers, “It’s gonna be OK.”

Becky’s out in the corridor. She rode downtown with us, but there’s no room for her. Bobby’s crushed up against me. I like that it’s crowded and he has to be that close to me. I’m gonna miss him. After the trial ends, he probably has to go back to Texas.

He’s a minor, and minors don’t have many rights, not even when they’ve been beat up and raped.

Becky said in the car I should go back to Council Grove at least for a visit. I don’t know. She doesn’t know about my medicine, and I’m not sure how I could get it in Kansas.

I can’t think about that right now.

I’m craning my neck trying to see them up at the defense table. I want them to know I’m here and I matter. That I’m not just some spectator. I was there when Tomas used to beat up Marissa.

Mother fucker raped both of us.

OK, so after that first time when he decked me and threw me to the ground and shoved himself into me, maybe I let him because it was easier. Maybe I said OK because it hurt less than fighting him.

I don’t know what the lawyers call it. I don’t really care. He made me have sex with him when I was cold and hungry. No — because I was cold and hungry. Call it what you want, I know what it was.

Marissa earned all his money, anyway. He peddled her ass like a piece of meat and lived off of her. And he still raped her.

Some of the tabloids, they wrote about me and Marissa like we were scum. Prostitutes, they called us. Streetwalkers. Even though the Times did better and called us “exploited youth,” somehow they still made us sound like dirt you’d wanna scrape off the bottom of your shoe.

I see reporters throwing curious glances at me now, and my face goes hot. I bet I know what they’re thinking.

I look at Bobby and I remember so much. I know I’m not scum. We did the best we could for each other and for Marissa. When nobody in the world wanted anything from us except sex, we took care of each other the best we knew how.

Bobby and I made it. How about that? I think we’re gonna be OK.

Remembering Marissa makes my heart bleed. This shouldn’t be happening. It’s so fucking wrong!

A shout interrupts my thoughts. “All rise! Court is now in session!”

All the voices in courtroom roar up for a second like a car growling to a start, then the room goes church quiet. I can hear my own heart pounding. I’m so nervous I barely notice what’s happening around me.

By the time time I calm down, the jury’s filed in, blocking my view of the defense table even worse.

“Defendant will rise!”

Pat already told us what would happen, so even though I can’t really see much, I know the jury foreman must be stepping into the well.

There she is!

She’s got a big manilla envelope in her hand. Slowly, she pulls out a pile of paperwork and shuffles it around.

The bailiff takes some and hands them up to the judge. Now I can see! I clench my fists and grind my teeth together, waiting. Marissa needs real justice.

I hear the first charge read out. “Murder in the First Degree.”

I suck in my breath as Bobby places his hand over my clenched fist.

“Not guilty.”

Bobby’s squeezing my hand so hard I’m afraid he’s gonna break bones. I’m shouting something without even knowing I’m doing it. The judge orders silence and she’s staring straight through me.

The rest passes in a blur, my heart pounding so hard I’m surprised I can hear anything.

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

It takes a long time. There’s a lot of charges. Not one single guilty verdict. Not one!

I see the judge smile for the first time in the entire process. She thanks the jury and tells them they’re dismissed. Then she stands and stares for a long time at the defense table.

“The defendant is also free to go. Young lady, I want you to know that this court holds you in the highest esteem and respect. I personally wish you the greatest possible success and happiness in the future.”

I think everyone in court is holding their breath. I break the spell. I raise my fist and shout. “Marissa! You go, girl!”

The courtroom explodes with excited voices. It only takes me and Bobby about ten seconds to elbow our way through the crowd and grab our friend in a three-cornered hug.