The Good Slave (4 page)

The D.A. stood before the judge’s bench and stated in a firm but stolid tone, “The district attorney’s office wishes to issue a public apology to Mr. Josef Messinjure for any regrettable and accidental damage to Mr. Messinjure’s property.”

A good slave’s gaze is always down and earthbound
.

Phoebus kept repeating this to himself as he tried to drown out the sound of the mean man old man’s voice.
 
He was still sitting on the witness stand, his shoulders rolled forward in an subconscious attempt to make himself appear as small and as invisible as possible.

A good slave’s gaze is always down and earthbound
.

The slave tried not to think about how degraded he felt being referred to as property, that no apology was being offered to
him
for his suffering.

A good slave’s gaze is always down and earthbound
.

“Furthermore, the district attorney’s office guarantees Mr. Messinjure that if there is any permanent damage to his property, he will be duly compensated for his loss up to and including the current full market value of his property for the replacement thereof.”

The little slave muttered his way through the rest of his testimony.
 
More than once the judge, who was now in a foul mood, barked, “Stop sniveling and speak up!”
 
Phoebus only cringed and spoke up.
 
He wished both fat old men were dead, but immediately felt guilty for such a wicked, wicked thought and begged God’s forgiveness.

There were no more dramatic theatrics or violence.
 
Phoebus was exhausted by the time his testimony ended and the judge told him he could step down.
 
When he got back to his seat Master Josef put a comforting hand on the back of his head and gently stroked his soft golden hair a few times.
 
The little slave began to weep.

Chapter Five

A Hostile Witness

Phoebus wasn’t the only witness, of course.
 
He was just one of many, in fact.
 
Others had once been good Messinjures friends, or so the Messinjures had thought.
 
But all had lied, of course, to save themselves from similar fates.
 
The D.A. paraded several of Stephen’s high school pals in front of the jury to testify that he had made sexual advances towards all of them at one time or another.
 
Phoebus began to think of them as the Locker Room Gang because every last one of them claimed that his master’s sone had propositioned them when they were alone in the locker room after some soccer or basketball or baseball practice.

“Obviously they’ve all been coached,” the little slave overheard his master’s lawyer whisper.

“Stephen approached me in the locker room,” one boy mumbled.

“It was in the locker room,” said another one, who looked embarrassed.
 
“After soccer practice.”

It hurt Phoebus to see Stephen’s friends turn against him this way.

“After basketball practice,” one boy had testified, “in the locker room.”

“He put his arm on my waist and tried to kiss me,” claimed another.

“He tried to kiss me as he put his arm around my waist and pulled me up against him,” said another.

“He put his arm around my waist and tried to kiss me.”

“Tried to kiss me.”

“Pulled me close.”

“After baseball practice.”

“He put his arm around my waist.”

“In the locker room.”

It became tedious before long.

Master Josef’s attorney tried to trip them up now and then, but clearly not very hard.
 
“This is one case any sensible attorney would want to
lose
,” someone sitting behind Phoebus had whispered.

“Where was the coach when you allege Stephen Messinjure tried to kiss you?” Master Josef’s attorney asked a muscular, athletic teen named Freddie Maunter.
 
He was the only boy who
didn’t
look nervous.
 
He looked bored, in fact, the way he slouched and leaned his head on his hand.

“Still on the field, I guess,” he said.

“Still on the field,” Master Josef’s lawyer echoed softly.

“Yep,” Freddie said, hitting the P with a little pop. “Still on the field.”

“But you just said you’d been playing basketball.”

“Did I?” the teen said lazily.
 
“I guess I meant the basketball court.”

Phoebus noticed that Freddie Maunter bit his lower lip on one side.
 
“A bad liar’ll bite his lip and never look at you,”
Tessa always said.
 
“But a good one’ll smile, look you straight in the eye and bat nary a lash.”

“I guess you must have,” Master Josef’s lawyer said before tacking on his usual follow-up question.
 
“And where were all the other members of the team, Mr. Maunter?”

“Still on the court, I guess,” he said, his volume rising a bit.
 
He seemed to be irritated.
 
“I already told you that.”

“Mm-hmm,” Master Josef’s lawyer said.
 
“And, uh, what prevented you from yelling out?”

“I was too scared,” the teen answered—exactly like all the others.

“Too scared?” the attorney asked.
 
“Aren’t you, uh...” he walked over to the defense table, picked up a piece of paper and scanned it for a few seconds before turning back to the teen.
 
“Aren’t you on the wrestling team, Mr. Maunter?
 
At least that’s what it says here.”

Everyone in the courtroom sat up a little straighter, including Freddie Maunter.
 
This was an unexpected departure from the usual fluff questions.

“Used to be,” Freddie Maunter answered, sounding annoyed.
 
“I switched to basketball in my junior year.
 
So?”

“So I would imagine it takes a lot of strength and courage to wrestle other boys and pin them down on a mat, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Unless you aren’t really that good of a wrestler, of course, in which case I suppose it’s understandable that you would switch to basketball and be easily intimidated by other boys.”

“I was state champ two years in a row!” the Freddie Maunter snarled through gritted teeth.
 
Then he yelled, “And I’m not afraid of anyone!”

The judge slammed his gavel.

“You will mind your tone, young man!” the judge ordered.
 
“This is a court of law, not the high school gymnasium!
 
You will be civil or tomorrow you will find yourself in juvenile court.
 
Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” Freddie Maunter mumbled as he slouched again.

“Good,” the judge said before nodding toward Master Josef’s lawyer.
 
“You may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.

“Mr. Maunter, you just told us a very short time ago that you
were
afraid of my client, Stephen Messinjure.
 
I can have the court reporter read back your testimony, if you like?”

The boy just glared in response.

“So you were
not
afraid then?” the lawyer asked.

“No,” Freddie Maunter said.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Maunter, but I’m somewhat confused: were you lying when you said you
were
afraid or are you lying now by saying you were
not
afraid?

“I’m not lying!
 
I was just... I was caught off guard, that’s all.
 
I’d never been touched by a faggot before.”

“I see,” the Master Josef’s lawyer said.
 
“And where did you say my client allegedly touched you?”

“He put his arm around my waist.
 
I
told
you that.
 
Any guy who puts his arm around another guy’s waist is a fag in my book.
 
Any idiot knows that.”

“Well, why didn’t you just tell him to knock it off?
 
Why didn’t you think he was just horsing around?”

“I... I don’t know.
 
I didn’t know what to think.
 
I was in shock.”

“In
shock
?!” the lawyer proclaimed in mock disbelief.
 
“Well, my goodness gracious me.
 
You were in
shock
because another boy—a significantly
smaller
boy, I might add—
allegedly
put his arm around your waist?
 
Let me point out to the jury that there are no witnesses to this
allegèd
encounter so it comes down to your word against my client’s, and my client
vehemently
denies your accusation, sir.
 
That being said, you
are
a champion wrestler, Mr. Maunter!
 
Haven’t dozens of boys put their arms around your waist over the years while trying to pin
you
to the mat?”

“Objection!” the district attorney called out.
 
“Your Honor, he’s badgering the witness!”

“How is asking a witness a question ‘badgering’ him, sir?” Master Josef’s attorney asked the D.A. Before turning to the judge.
 
“Your Honor,” he chortled, “I am simply trying to help the jury understand out why this young man—this exemplar of adolescent hand-to-hand combat—whose testimony is
astoundingly
similar to that of the veritable fleet of young men whom the D.A. has paraded before us...”

He was starting to become overwrought and was getting loud so he paused to collect his thoughts.

“I’m just trying to figure out,” he continued calmly, “why strapping, young Freddie Maunter, who looks to be at least a few inches over six feet tall, was so dumbstruck when a smaller boy
allegedly
put his arms around his waist.
 
Was he really too
shocked
to do anything about it?”

Chuckles from the crowd.

The judge looked back and forth between the attorneys and the audience before him, gauging the mood before announcing, “Objection overruled!”

The murmuring crowd was pleased.

The irate D.A. clenched his fists at his sides as he sat down in a huff.

Master Josef’s lawyer continued.

“Now I ask you again, Mr. Maunter, are you accustomed to other boys having physical contact with you during a wrestling match?”

The teen’s face a hateful grimace.
 
“Yes,” he said flatly.
 
“But no boy ever touched me in the locker room.
 
Ever
.”

“And have you, yourself, ever touched another boy in the locker room, Mr. Maunter?”

The boy didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Maunter.
 
Did you not hear my question?”

Still no response.

“The witness will answer the question,” the judge ordered.

“Oh, that’s okay, Your Honor,” Master Josef’s lawyer said as he turned and walked back toward his table.
 
“I already know the answer to the question—and so does Mr. Maunter.”
 
He picked up another piece of paper.
 
“This is a court document with your name on it, Mr. Maunter.
 
Apparently you were involved in a brawl which
you
started, according to this report, by harassing some of your classmates.
 
Harassment that started in the, uh...” he paused and closely inspected the paper for show “...the locker room.”

He held the paper out to Freddie Maunter but the teen wouldn’t even look at it.

“Well, no need to for you to read it, is there?” the lawyer said as he lowered his arm.
 
“After all, this is
your
signature at the bottom where you pled guilty to having pushed and shoved another boy before wrestling him to the floor, sitting on top of him and punching him repeatedly in the face and upper torso.
 
Besides, I’m sure you have your own copy at home.”

The room was silent.

“Tell me, Mr. Maunter, did you put your arm around that boy’s waist at any time during this attack?”

Freddie Maunter flinched when the judge barked, “Answer the question!”

“Yes,” the teen said.

“Well, then, if one boy putting his arm around the waist of another boy constitutes homosexual behavior, which I vividly recall you defining for us, then it appears that you are, yourself, a homosexual, sir.
 
Are you not?”

“Objection, your Honor!” the D.A. yelled.

Without breaking eye contact with Freddie Maunter, Master Josef’s lawyer quickly added, “Any idiot knows that!”

“Objection!”

“I withdraw he question!
 
No further questions, Your Honor.”

It was the first and last time Master Josef’s attorney had shown any courage done his job.
 
After making Freddie Maunter squirm, however, he returned to his usual milquetoast self.