Dark Moonlighting (28 page)

I was held at the police precinct where I
used to work. Had I not been depressed and in a drug-induced
stupor, I probably would have found the reaction of my former
colleagues to be amusing. There were always at least ten police
officers crowded around my jail cell to guard me. They armed
themselves with wooded stakes, duct taped crosses to their uniforms
and wrinkled their noses at the pungent smell emanating from the
strands of garlic hanging around their necks. After a while, when
it became clear that I was not much of a threat, they started to
relax. Their ranks did not dwindle any though. Watching the
scientists come into my cell and experiment on me was better than
any nature program they had seen on television.

The scientists who examined me were the only
people who were able to forget about my crimes. It was through
their conversations with the police and political officials that I
first learned that the state of Illinois was planning on a summary
execution for me. The researchers protested on the grounds that
they had so much more to learn about vampirism. Being the most
rational type of human beings, the scientists had naturally assumed
that vampires were a myth before I was captured. The people in
charge did not share their enthusiasm. The big wigs seemed content
to put me down and be done with the whole fiasco.

On the last day that I was overdosing on
tranquilizers, I heard a familiar voice in the hallway outside my
jail cell. Caleb Hass burst into the room and, ignoring all the
stares he received from those assembled, walked straight up to the
bars of my cell. He stared down at me while wearing a curious
expression. I, being immobilized on a cot, tried to greet him but
failed. A small bubble of drool formed on my lip as I attempted to
form words.

Caleb erupted in fury, or at least pretended
to, as he turned around to scream at the assembled officials. He
declared that, as my lawyer, he could not believe the terrible
treatment I was receiving while in police custody. He said that I
was a human being who was entitled to the same rights and
protections that any other person would receive under the U.S.
Constitution. As a bonus, he lectured about the justice system for
a while and threatened to call the ACLU. I did not catch all of it
as I was slipping in and out of consciousness at the time. I am
sure it was very poetic and inspiring. In fact, it must have been.
The next day I was allowed to come out of my drugged up haze for
the first time in weeks.

I do not know how Caleb got access to me in
the first place. I assume he had been elevated by the press since
they believed one of his employees had been killed by another of
his employees who turned out to be a mythical monster. Presumably
it was a combination of this new celebrity status and a bunch of
called in favors that allowed him to declare himself to be my
attorney. He spent at least an hour a day with me in my cell after
saving me from an unjust death. As I was still overwhelmed by
Christina’s murder, he found me to be a less than engaging client
even after the drugs wore off.

Mercizer Pharmaceuticals stepped in to solve
that problem for Caleb. Since the company now believed I was
responsible for the death of one of their pharmaceutical sales
representatives, they were inspired to develop a new product for
me. They knew I needed to be mentally fit if I was going to stand
trial. To that end, they produced a highly concentrated version of
their popular Smiletrol™ antidepressant. Their doctors played with
the dosage over the course of a few weeks, but they were eventually
able to find an amount that both affected me and was not
immediately filtered out by the vampire virus. Although still
miserable, I came out of my catatonia and was declared fit to stand
trial.

While the state of Illinois had reluctantly
agreed to give me a trial, none of its officials seemed
particularly interested in making it a fair one. My trial was
scheduled to begin just one week after I was declared fit. Caleb’s
appeals fell on deaf ears, and he decided to turn to me for help in
preparing my own defense. I was content to let the justice system
put me out of my misery until Caleb, quite expertly, appealed to my
sense of duty. He declared that if I was sentenced and executed
without a fight, a terrible precedent would be set. It was possible
that more vampires would be captured in the future, and they
deserved to have a fair trial even if I was not interested in one.
I knew that Caleb only cared about getting his name in the papers,
but I could not ignore his argument. I spent the next week forcing
myself to prepare for the most talked about court case in American
history.

I was driven to the courthouse on the day of
the trial in my own car. The state had no interest in doing an
elaborate refit on one of their vehicles to install the pricey
glass needed to shield me from the sunlight. They did, however, go
to the trouble of installing a cage to separate me from the front
seat. My car was also escorted by ten police cruisers and two
police helicopters. I did not know where they thought I was going
to escape to in broad daylight. Perhaps the force was just there to
keep the mob of people gathered outside the courthouse away from
me.

The powers that be decided that there was no
need to afford me the right to wear proper clothing to my trial. As
such, I was escorted into the courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit.
Although my hands and feet were shackled, two police officers took
up positions behind the defense table when I sat down.

“What’s the latest news?” I asked Caleb, who
was sitting to my right.

“The British government has refused to file a
protest, and they have officially announced that they do not
recognize you as an English citizen (You’re screwed),” Caleb
started. “Judge Yoest has denied our request for a change of venue
(That bitch is out to get you). She’s also refused to allow
television cameras into the courtroom (Which is far more important
than the change of venue since I really wanted everyone in America
to see what an awesome defense attorney I am). It’s not all bad
news though. At least they’re only charging you with the one murder
you didn’t actually commit (Or so you claim… you bloodsucking
freak),” Caleb finished.

The pep talk from the senior partner of my
former firm did nothing to reassure me. The prosecution was only
charging me with Christina’s murder because they knew that was all
they needed. Investigators had accurately guessed that I was
responsible for hundreds of the unsolved Urinator murders. However,
those crimes were not nearly as easy to prove, and bringing them up
would only add an element of uncertainty to the trial. In the
extremely unlikely event that the jury of my peers saw me as
anything more than a monster and actually acquitted me, the state
could always try their luck prosecuting me for some of the other
victims. Basically, I knew the proceedings would be much like O.J.
Simpson’s robbery trial in 2008. I would be railroaded, but no one
was going to care because they knew I had gotten away with
murdering other people.

“All rise,” the bailiff commanded.

“Be seated,” Judge Yoest said as she took her
seat behind the bench. “Mr. Whittier, I was surprised to hear that
you have decided to be a part of your own defense team. How does
that old saying go? He who represents himself has a fool for a
client?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” I answered, not bothering
to laugh. “I was also surprised. Surprised that you didn’t recuse
yourself given the obvious conflict that stems from our former
working relationship.”

“I just wanted you to see a familiar face up
here,” she answered with a sinister smile. “Who would have thought
that my least favorite defense attorney would turn out to be… would
be accused of being the worst serial killer in American history. To
think of all the times I took pity on you for being an albino,” she
said, making air quotes with her fingers for the last word. “You
certainly made me feel foolish. You had me believing that you were
a weak, frail young man.”

I lifted my hands above the table so that she
could see them. “I take it you wouldn’t be inclined to have these
restraints removed then?”

“No,” Judge Yoest answered with a smile. “I
think it’s best if we don’t take any chances with you.”

I nodded my head in acceptance. A moment
later I tensed up, clenched my teeth and pulled my arms apart. The
chain of the shackles bent and, after a few seconds, broke. There
was a collective gasp from the people in the packed gallery. The
two officers behind me jumped back and drew their pistols. I
clasped my newly freed hands behind my head and stared up at Judge
Yoest.

“Easy,” she said to the officers. “There are
over a hundred cops surrounding this courthouse armed with silver
bullets. There’s no need for shackles. He’s not going
anywhere.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Although I think I
should point out that the silver bullet thing is just for
werewolves, not vampires.”

“Don’t help her (What are you stupid?),”
Caleb hissed at me.

“And I think
I
should point out that
the window shades over there have all been rigged with tiny motors.
The button to activate them is sitting right here,” she said. She
raised a small remote control into the air. “Should you make any
sort of aggressive move, I have the authority to press this button
which will instantly pull the shades and flood this courtroom with
sunlight. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” I smiled.

After some pomp and circumstance, my trial
began with opening statements. Caleb told the jury to keep an open
mind during the proceedings. He warned them not to be fooled by
what they had heard about me from the media. On the other hand, the
lead prosecutor seemed confident that the jury had already reached
a verdict from the facts they had learned from watching the news.
He gave one of the shortest opening statements I had ever heard in
my very long career as an attorney.

The prosecutor began his case by calling Lara
to the stand. She testified that she saw me drink the blood of a
wounded patient and kill three terrorists without blinking an eye.
Caleb got her to admit that I had saved her life when he
cross-examined her. He looked quite pleased with himself when he
released her and returned to the defense table. I could tell by a
quick glance towards the jury box that the twelve people who
mattered most were not impressed.

The prosecution only called a handful of
witnesses after that. A few of my coworkers from all three of my
jobs talked about some of the superhuman things they had seen me do
over the years. The two police officers who first arrived at the
warehouse assured the jury that I was the only one who could have
murdered Christina. The prosecution, evidently wanting to wrap the
case up as quickly as possible, rested their case at the end of the
first day.

Although we had little time to prepare for
the sham trial, Caleb and I were able to present a defense that
lasted three days. The media inaccurately labeled it as the
“one-armed vampire” defense, which I thought was both insulting and
lazy. We called a series of witnesses from around Starside who
claimed to have seen Lance or one of his sluts. They all seemed way
too excited to be part of the festivities though, and their stories
usually fell apart under cross-examination. The only minor witness
we had that I knew had actually seen the other vampires was the
homeless wino. He took the stand and immediately accused Judge
Yoest of attempting to steal his soul for the purpose of baking it
into a cake. He managed to get through his testimony, but then he
warned Juror Number Six that her husband was cheating on her with
the ghost of Mother Teresa. As such, the jurors did not seem
particularly inclined to believe the drunk was a reliable source of
information.

We called a few scientific experts to the
stand, but the bulk of our case rested on Jasmine. She was the only
credible witness we had. She testified that she had seen three of
the other vampires and had even managed to kill one of them.
Jasmine proclaimed that I had been an excellent partner who had
saved her life on more than one occasion. The prosecutor only asked
her a few questions during cross-examination, but they were enough
to discredit her. He asked her why the police had not been able to
find Kourtney’s body, for which she had no answer. He also attacked
her character when she admitted she had known I was a murderous
vampire for years but had not bothered to tell anyone or arrest me.
In the end he insinuated that she was just protecting me because
she was secretly in love with me. Jasmine and I shared a snort at
that ludicrous idea.

Caleb raised a questioning eyebrow towards me
after the prosecutor finished cross-examining our last witness. I
shook my head no in response to his unasked questioned. Caleb
announced to the judge that the defense rested its case. Judge
Yoest refused to grant a recess even though it was getting towards
the end of the day. She told the prosecutor to begin his closing
statement.

“… is definitely an unusual case,” the
prosecutor said to the jury towards the end of his closing
arguments. “But don’t let that distract you from the obvious facts.
The defense wants to paint Mr. Whittier as some sort of victim.
They even have the audacity to refer to him as a “hematophagous
American” despite the fact that he’s not even a citizen of this
great country. Killing people and sucking their blood is not the
same thing as being black or handicapped or Chinese. Nick Whittier
is not a member of a minority group that deserves protection. He is
a monster, quite literally, that needs to be destroyed. Thank
you.”

Caleb Hass cleared his throat as he stood
from his seat at the defense table. He nodded pleasantly at the
prosecutor before walking towards the jury box. “The prosecution
has failed to prove that my client is responsible for the death of
poor Christina Leopold. Is Nick Whittier a vampire? Yes. Does he
need to drink human blood to survive? Yes. Is he capable of
murdering a loved one? Absolutely not. You heard Officer Jasmine
Johnson testify that Nick was one of the most loyal, respectable
and trustworthy people she had ever met. Even his former coworkers
who took the stand are a testament to Nick’s morality. They fear
Nick for what he is, but
they’re
not dead are they? Their
existence proves that my client is not capable of killing the
people closest to him in his life. And what about the prosecution’s
case? They have not been able to produce one single witness who saw
Nick murder Miss Leopold. The forensic expert you heard from
explained that the diameter of Nick’s fangs did not match the
wounds in the victim’s neck. The urine found at the crime scene
also had different factors than the urine sample provided by Mr.
Whittier. If the pee doesn’t fit, you must acquit!” Caleb
announced. He paused in anticipation of a laugh, but he did not
receive one. “Nick Whittier is no monster. Nick Whittier is an
American hero. He worked three jobs not because he needed to, but
because he wanted to help contribute to our society. He’s even a
military veteran, having served for two years at a Mobile Army
Surgery Hospital during the Korean War. I know you all want to hate
this man because of what he is, but his very life is on the line.
Examine the evidence, and I am sure you’ll reach the conclusion
that Nick is not guilty. Thank you (You guys buy any of that
bullshit?),” Caleb concluded.