Justice??

“Mia Mills, please come forward.”

A tall, slender woman in her early thirties, wearing a blue skirt suit, rose from her seat, clutching her purse. The only sound you could hear was the tapping of Mia’s heels as she confidently made her way to the witness stand, her chin held high, her walk steady. Before taking her seat, the courtroom clerk approached her.

“Please raise your right hand.”

Mia did as she was instructed.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

Mia cleared her throat. “I do.”

“You may be seated.”

Mia turned and sat down, crossing her ankles and gently placing one hand on her handbag while the other adjusted her wire-framed glasses as she looked up. At that moment, she spotted her heavyset husband in his favorite brown sport jacket, his jet-black hair slicked back and his brown eyes unreadable. She quickly looked away and focused on the prosecutor, who had already informed the jury that Mia’s testimony was crucial; the case would fall apart without it. Mia tightened her grip on her purse as he got up from the table and approached her.

The smell of the prosecutor’s cologne transported her back to happier days. David had worn the same cologne the day they first met; it was one of the few colognes to which she was not allergic.

They had met at Grizzlies, a bar where she and her coworkers would unwind after a long week at the office. David was seated beside one of his friends at a bar stool when Mia and her colleagues casually walked past. Her fit, perfectly curved figure, shoulder-length auburn hair, and radiant smile caught his eye. Determined to meet her, he waited until her group settled, then took another swig of his beer to calm his nerves and slowly began to walk toward the table.

Meanwhile, Mia sat socializing with her coworkers, savoring her white wine, when she noticed a man approaching. A brown cowboy hat partially concealed his curly, jet-black hair. He was tall and lean, dressed in a black business suit paired with cowboy boots. As he came closer, their eyes locked. He smiled, held out his hand, and asked her to dance. Six months later, they were married.

Everything was excellent until that dreadful night when she came home from Grizzlies well after two in the morning. Mia hung her coat in the closet and checked the house to see if he was still awake. She found him in the kitchen drinking bourbon.

“Where have you been?” he shouted as he stood and stumbled toward her.

After explaining where she had been and reminding him that she had texted, he got in her face, the smell of bourbon on his breath made her stomach queasy.

“Who are you having an affair with?” he yelled.

“David, I’m not having an affair. I was just with the girls,” she pleaded, assuring him that he was the only one who would ever complete her. She reached out, trying to hold his hand. “Liar!” he slapped her across the face.

Mia touched her cheek, hoping it might alleviate the sting, then raced up the stairs to her bedroom and fell onto her bed in tears. Horrified by what had just happened, he followed her to the bedroom and sat next to her, rubbing her back and apologizing profusely.

“Can you ever forgive me? I didn’t mean it. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

She turned over and sat up, gently touching his cheek.

“Yes, I forgive you.”

But that was the first of many.

Mia quickly wiped a tear from her cheek before anyone noticed.

Peter was the young prosecutor on the case. He was about six feet tall, with blond hair and blue eyes. Even with his black suit on, you could tell he hit the gym almost daily. He walked confidently towards the witness stand.

“Mrs. Mills, did you see your husband leave the house the night of the murder?”

“Yes,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Can you tell us about that night?”

“We were eating dinner when David received a phone call. He left the table to answer it, and when he returned, he said it was Jenna, his secretary. He got ready. I walked him to the door, and he left in the black Jaguar around six thirty.”

Peter adjusted his stance as he continued.

“Mrs. Mills, did you ever notice anything unusual about his clothing or appearance?”

Mia hesitated, then nodded.

“Yes. At times when I was doing the laundry. I noticed bright red lipstick on the collar of his dress shirt. His clothes also had a strong, unfamiliar scent of perfume. It made me sneeze.

“Do you wear that type of lipstick or perfume?”

“No, I’m allergic to perfumes, so I don’t wear any. And I have never owned red lipstick.”

“Objection!” The defense attorney shouted, “That’s hearsay.”

“Overruled,” The judge quickly announced.

Peter placed his hands on his hips and turned toward Mia.

“Mrs. Mills, did you see your husband return that night?”

“Yes, I was up late working on my computer when I heard tires screech, so I went down to see if it was David.”

“And was it, David?”

“Yes. He got out of the car; there was blood on his shirt. A lot of it.”

“Objection, Your Honor. Speculation.

“We’ll establish the foundation, Your honor.”

“Overruled. Proceed.”

“Mia, what makes you say it was blood?”

“We have bright floodlights in the driveway; I was looking out through the front door window. David walked toward me. I could see it. It was blood.”

“Can you tell us what happened next?” he asked, turning towards Mia.

“David went towards the pool house. I was curious, so I followed him from a distance. He walked inside, and when he came out, he was wearing different clothes. He had a bundle in his hand, wrapped in what looked like a towel.”

“Did you see what he did with it?”

“Yes, He started a fire in the steel drum we use for compost; I saw him toss the bundle in the fire there.”

Mia exhaled and sat back.

“I remember the smell.” She said softly, shaking her head.

“Objection. Your honor, hearsay.”

“Overruled!” the judge slammed down his gavel.

Mia winced at the sound of the gavel, causing her to travel back to other times that David had hit her.

One night, she returned home from work late, forgetting to text him. Rushing into the house and tossing her coat onto the chair, frantically, she called out to David. He was sitting in the kitchen, a half-empty bottle of bourbon and a full glass in front of him.

“I am so sorry, I had to work late. I should have called you. Please forgive me.” She approached him to hug him, but he rejected her embrace, giving her a hard slap, causing her to fall to the floor. Once again, he accused her of having an affair, calling her a slut. Over and over, Mia pleaded with him, insisting that it was not true.

“Liar!” he yelled, slapping her again and kicking her leg. She let out a loud cry and sobbed as she held her leg. He had never kicked her before.

He looked down at her, “Oh, no! What have I done?” He knelt beside her, crying and apologizing. I love you so much; you make me crazy sometimes.” He held her, kissed her, and pleaded. Feeling guilty about driving him crazy, she forgave him again.

The next day, he gave her diamond-studded earrings. He told her he wanted her to quit her job; he said it would help if he knew she was home safe. She agreed, giving her two weeks’ notice at her office the next day.

If only quitting her job could have ended it, that’s what Mia had hoped, but it continued repeatedly; he would hit her, then apologize. The cycle continued.

Then, a little over a year ago, she found out she was pregnant; she wasn’t sure how David would take it, so she kept it to herself, waiting for the right time to tell him.

One late afternoon, she was not home when he returned early from work. He was livid. He grabbed and pushed her against the wall just as she walked through the door.

“Where have you been? Who did you sleep with this time? He shouted, striking her face, causing the grocery bag to fall to the ground along with Mia.

“I was…” she gasped,”

You were what?” But before she could answer, he had kicked her hard in the stomach twice. Holding her stomach, she cried out in agonizing pain. After he had left her there on the floor, Mia reached for her cell phone in her coat pocket and called the police. She had had enough.

But when David heard the sirens, he pleaded with her and promised it would never happen again, suggesting they take a cruise and spend quality time together. He gently helped her to her feet, picked her up, kissed her forehead, and carried her to the bedroom so she could rest. Foolishly, she believed him, so she recanted her statement, and the police left.

A couple of days later, David accidentally discovered Mia’s pregnancy when he took her to the hospital for abdominal pain. The doctors informed him that she had lost the baby. He pretended to know about it, displaying kindness and a good show for the doctors and nurses, expressing compassion for Mia and sadness over the loss of the child.

However, his demeanor shifted once they returned home. He started taunting her, saying she would never make a good mother. Again, he accused her of having an affair, claiming the baby was probably not his anyway.

No matter how much she pleaded with David, he never believed her and never changed. So, she kept silent. After he left for the bar, she carefully walked up the stairs, lay in bed, and buried her face deep into her pillow, sobbing, not about her husband, but for the baby she lost.

Her chest tightened, and she took a deep breath.

“No, Further questions, Your Honor,” Peter said as he sat back at the prosecutor’s table.

Bill, the defense attorney, a bald, chubby man in a brown suit and black shoes, sauntered toward the witness stand. Once again, Mia tightened her grip on her purse. When she glanced at David, his face was emotionless and calm, unlike that of his attorney, Bill, who looked like a bull just before it leaves the gate with a bull rider on its back. He walked with purpose and a sneer as he approached the witness stand.

He smirked as he slapped the table before her.

“You were inside the house when you first noticed him, correct?”

“Yes, through the front door window.”

“And from that distance…through a window, you could tell it was your husband?”

“Yes, the flood lights were on.”

“Now you say that you followed him to the pool house. How far away would you say you were from him?”

“I’m not sure, maybe 15 feet?”

“It was more like 25 feet, in the dark, and you could tell what he was holding?”

“It looked like clothes wrapped in something.”

“But you didn’t actually open the bundle, did you?”

“No,” Mia shook her head and looked down at her purse.

“So, you can’t say with certainty what was inside, can you? “His voice began to rise.

Mia looked at Peter; there was no help there.

“No, but…”

Bill cut her off, stepping closer to the witness stand,” Just yes or no, Mrs. Mills. He smirked.

He strolled towards the jury box. “Now you also said that he lit a fire in a steel drum,” he continued, speaking to the jury.

Mia clutched her purse tighter, “Yes.”

“You’re aware that you use that drum for composting garden waste, correct?”

Mia reminded herself of Peter’s warning about what could happen in cross-examination: They will try to make you look like a villain or stupid. Maintain your composure either way.

She inhaled deeply, looked past the defense attorney to the back of the room, and answered the question.

“Yes”

“Is it unusual for your husband to burn materials out there?”

She stared the aging attorney straight in the eyes, “Not usually wrapped in a towel.”

“Again, you did not open it. So, you don’t know what it was, do you?”

“No”

And this happened late at night, twenty-five feet away?

“Yes. So, you say.”

“Was there anyone around who could collaborate on what you saw?” he was facing her with his hands on his hips.

“Not that I know of.”

He stepped closer. She could smell his fruity gum. He pointed his crooked finger at her.

“What we have here is your interpretation of what you think you saw, from twenty-five feet away in the dark…with no other witness. Would you agree?”

Mia looked down at her lap. “That’s not what it was like.”

“But that’s what it was. Thank you. No further questions.”

Bill turned his bald head, smirked at her, then nodded at David.

That smirk took her back…back to a few weeks before the trial. David was out on bail. She was drinking her latte at her favorite coffee shop, trying to wrap her head around the case and thinking about her unborn child, who would have turned two this year.

Suddenly, David yanked out the chair across from her and sat down abruptly. The manager took notice.

“You need to leave,” Mia said, surprised to see him there

“Not till you listen to me.” He grabbed her arm tightly.

She tried to pull her arm away, but it only made him grip it tighter. Listen to me and listen to me well”, he said as he tightened his grip on her arm even more. An evil smirk appeared on his face. “If you testify, I will kill you.” He ripped his hand from hers. “I will hunt you down and find you wherever you go.”

Mia stared into his eyes, searching for the David she had fallen in love with, but there was no sign of him. All she saw was darkness and hate—that David, the man she married, was gone.

This will never end, she thought to herself. She was just about to leave when the manager moved towards their table.

“Sir, you must leave, or I’m calling the police.”

David stood up, slammed the chair down, and stormed out of the café, but not before issuing one last threat.

“That was then,” she told herself, sitting straighter in the witness chair, loosening her grip on her purse. “This is now…”

The judge repeated, “Mrs. Mills, do you have anything else to add?”

She turned to face the jury, her expression stern and confident, her eyes emotionless, focused.

“I saw him leave. I saw him come back. His clothes were soaked in blood. I watched him burn them in the backyard.”

Tears began to run down Mia’s cheeks.

“I know what I saw. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Thank you. You may step down.”

She did not wait for closing arguments. Stepping through the outside door to the courthouse, the sun's warmth hitting her face, she turned and saw a photo of Jenna posted by the press.

Jenna’s face was beautiful, with long eyelashes, shoulder-length auburn hair, and hazel eyes. Mia gently touched the picture, whispering, “I’m sorry…”

A tear fell from her cheek as she descended the courthouse steps. “It is finished,” she murmured, concentrating on the tapping of her heels against each step she took. When she reached the curb, she hailed a cab, climbed in, and never looked back.