When the Smoke Clears

Closing Statement

"Alright, Lee Lee girl, you did exactly what you came to do. You went in there and you slayed, honey," I said, beaming enthusiastically while giving myself my routine end of trial pep talk. "All you have to do now is close this thing and you will be the first prosecutor in the district to have won twenty-five consecutive cases." I held my breath for a beat before releasing it in a hot gust of air. No matter how many cases I had won, I still seemed to get nervous right before the closing of a trial. My nerves were absolutely wrecked.

If the stats that I had been putting up since I had joined the team four years ago weren't exceptional enough, the fact that I had already won more cases than any black attorney in our district's history should catch someone's attention. To top it off, I had become the first black female attorney to ever be hired at the district attorney's office period. I was admittedly a force to be reckoned with.

I stepped back from the full-length crystal mirror positioned strategically in perfect lighting against my bedroom wall, backing up enough to do one last survey of my outfit of the day. If I do say so myself, I looked flawless dressed in a blush colored, linen, two-piece Chanel suit. The vintage suit had been tailored to fit my curves like a glove. Sure, I carried some extra weight around my waist. But I had learned to accept my body years ago. I had never in my life been a size two and gave up trying to squeeze into a size twelve over a year ago. Standing there in front of the mirror, I felt much sexier than any of the stick thin model bitches that they always showed in the many fashion magazines that I had subscriptions to. Despite societal standards of beauty, I love my curves and flaunt them with confidence.

The pink So Kate Pompadour glitter Louboutin pumps that I had paired with my suit would seem too flashy to some in the law arena, but with my no nonsense persona and charismatic delivery in the courtroom, anyone underestimating me because of my outfit would find themselves pleasantly amazed or disappointed, depending on which side of the room they were seated on. No doubt about it, I definitely liked to press the line in the courtroom in every way.

"Your honor, counsel, Mr. Harris, Mr. Schultz and ladies and gentlemen of the jury, good morning to you all. If it should please the court, I would like to give you a recap of what transpired on the night of October 10, 2015."

I continued.

"Emilio Alvarez gave the direct order for his underlings to execute Jose Martinez and his pregnant wife, Sofia, in their home on Westchester Avenue at approximately 9:30pm. We have heard testimony from several different witnesses that Jose and his partner, Carlos, owed Mr. Alvarez over $100,000. Defense argued that such an amount of money was of no consequence to the defendant. They would have us to think that with all the money that Mr. Alvarez pulls in with his illegal drug operation, that $100,000 is merely a drop in the bucket. Which brings me to the single factor that brought Jose Martinez to his ultimate demise on that faithful night. Mr. Martinez had informed or rather warned the defendant that he was getting out of the business. Jose Martinez lost his life because he simply knew too much. Witness testimony has revealed that he was using his knowledge of the ins and outs of the operation in an attempt to blackmail the defendant.

As we have heard multiple times during this trial, Mr. Alvarez has never been one to roll over just because of a simple threat no matter who it came from. In a display of his callous maliciousness, not only did Emilio Alvarez put out a contract for murder on Jose Martinez, but he also had his wife, who was seven months pregnant with an innocent baby girl, murdered in cold blood in their family home. The couple had been trying to conceive for several years with no luck. They were just weeks shy of meeting their precious baby girl on the night that they were slain. After hearing testimony from an expert medical witness, the courts would be remiss not to count the murdered child as a living, breathing human being. Let's just identify it as what it is. Mr. Alvarez orchestrated a gruesome execution style triple homicide. In closing, I ask that the jurors consider the facts that have been presented to you over the past three weeks. Ladies and gentlemen, when you go into the back and start your deliberation, consider the witness tampering that has been discovered, the pay offs, and the intimidation tactics that Mr. Alvarez has exercised. The court is asking that Emilio Alvarez be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

Once I concluded my statement, I felt like time stopped. I definitely knew that my argument was strong. The evidence against Emilio Alvarez was even stronger. The nerves that fluttered wildly in my chest were based primarily on the fact that Emilio Alvarez had gotten off in two other cases with prosecutors that were more seasoned than me and with evidence that was far more damning than what I had presented over the weeks' long trial. In the past, witnesses had come up missing, cops and detectives were paid off and people were plain scared. No one wanted to take on Emilio Alvarez and rightfully so.

***

"Join me for a drink tonight, Aleesia." Vincent requested as he stood in front of the table where I was gathering my things after the trial concluded.

Vincent Richardson was also a prosecutor. He had already been with the district attorney's office for five years when I was hired. The two of us had only been sleeping together for the past year. In my opinion, our little fling had run its course. However, in my line of work, I always worried about discretion. Vincent had just as much to lose as I did, maybe more. That's not a great selling point when continuing any type of relationship, but it was definitely something that I took into consideration when continuing to entertain him. Before I had the chance to respond, District Attorney Aaron Swartzberg joined Vincent in front of the table.

"Aleesia, there's no fucking way you can lose this one," Swartzberg commented. "I say we celebrate over drinks. Sax and Katie are meeting me at the bar near here. Taps, I think it's called. This thing has been a monster for us all." Swartzberg patted Vincent on the shoulder. "Ready, Vincent?" Aaron asked, looking over at Vincent before the two of them proceeded to leave.

Vincent glanced at me over his shoulder as he and Swartzberg exited the wooden double doors that led out of the court room. My phone buzzed in my briefcase. I peeked inside my bag briefly and saw V pop up on the screen. Vincent had sent a text after walking away.

V: PURPLE.

As much as I despised fraternizing with the bosses outside of work, I knew that rubbing elbows with them had afforded me the connections to get the good cases early on and prove myself as an equal in the firm. Having a drink or two with them after a case was just a part of the job. They were good guys, I just liked to keep my life and work separated. The lines were growing more blurred by the day.

I sipped my dry martini and listened as they bragged about how I, along with ADA Martin Sax, had nailed the case. "This thing is in the bag," Sax agreed. "All we have to do is show up in the morning," he boasted.

Looking over the rim of my glass, I could tell that Vincent was growing impatient listening to them give me so much praise. It seemed to bruise his ego knowing that I was on or even above his level as far as the higher ups were concerned. In my opinion, I had definitely exceeded him. Vincent had been the first black assistant district attorney in regional history. Aaron's father, who had been district attorney for decades prior to his son, was a notorious bigot and had openly refused to hire women and people of color. He was particularly vocal about his opinion of women as lawyers and for that reason, he was constantly in court facing lawsuits. His son, Aaron, was much more liberal in his approach to the law. Him hiring me on was a perfect display of that open mindedness.