Glass
by
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Approaching the witness stand, Eric rubbed his hairless chin absently. The entire audience seemed to lean forward a bit as if one, ready for whatever was in store. Obvious to them was the fact this was once again a departure from the program and the script.
“Mom,” he started, spinning to look her in the eye.
“Objection!” Dinkleman yelped, rising to his feet.
“What might it be this time, Mr. Dinkleman?” the monster sighed, exasperated.
“Your Honor, the court has recognized this witness as Mrs. Carol Watkins. Defense should use the recognized name.”
Good point, thought the Tall Man. He gained a greater measure of respect for the prosecuting attorney and, once again, took pride in his casting.
“Sustained,” he ordered, rapping the gavel to make it official. “Defense shall address the witness as Mrs. Carol Watkins. It is so ordered by this court.”
Eric glared toward the prosecuting attorney. The unanticipated objection had caused him to lose track of his thoughts. It was apparent to him that prosecution would go to every length to protect this witness. He turned back toward the stand.
“Mrs. Carol Watkins,” he stammered, uncomfortable. So far as he could recall, he’d never addressed his mother formally. “Mrs. Watkins, for the benefit of the court, would you be so kind as to reiterate your relation to myself?”
“Why,” she answered sweetly, “I am your mother. We all know that!”
“Mrs. Watkins,” he continued, pacing in a subconscious imitation of Dinkleman, “that would make me your son. I know this sounds redundant, but the prosecution seems intent on making sure I am procedurally correct. As you already testified, I am your firstborn. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that is true.” She looked puzzled.
“Objection, Your Honor.”
“Yes, Mr. Dinkleman?”
“Prosecution is wondering where this line of questioning is leading, Your Honor. If defense has no pertinent questions to pose to this witness, I request she be removed from the stand.”
“I also am wondering where this is going,” the Tall Man returned, looking directly at the boy. “Make your point, defense. And do it quickly.”
Eric hesitated a moment, not quite sure himself which direction he was heading. It was imperative that he be concise and somehow attempt to discredit the monster judge. Although he was aware the Tall Man was not on trial (as had been made clear already), he was certain that any damage done to his character and reputation at the bench could only help in the eyes of the jury.
“Mrs. Watkins, as my mother...do you love me, your firstborn son?”
“Objection!” It was Dinkleman again, not content to sit still for long. He launched himself from the seat. “Again, Your Honor, the point here is relevancy!”
“Sustained,” the monster returned, looking over at the boy.
“If it’s all the same,” Mrs. Watkins spoke from the stand, “I’d like to go ahead and answer that question. If the prosecution has no further objection, of course.”
All eyes focused on Dinkleman, who merely waved his reluctant consent. She winked at him and then turned toward her son.
“No.” She looked her son square in the eye. “I loved you at one time more than any mother could. But you messed up, kid. You were a cruel youngster, not only towards me but to your brother, sister and step dads. You always had your hand out. You always had to have it your way. You broke up our home and the family life we once had.
“Have you not wondered,” she continued, hands folded complacently in her lap, “why your brother and sister never call you? Never even bother to ask anyone how you’re doing? It’s because of the misery you put us through all those years ago. And here you are now, bringing shame upon us all over again, ripping the scabs off of old wounds. I thought I had taught you better than that. You disgust me, Eric.”
The audience broke into spontaneous applause and the judge cued the band. It was a moment for gaiety and music. The little woman had put the kid in his place, hit him right where it hurt.
Shamefully, Eric realized she was right. It had been quite a long time since he’d last heard from anyone in the immediate family. No calls, no cards and no visits. No invitations to family dinners and gatherings.
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About the Book
This novel—much like my previous book, “Omens”—deals with adult themes of abuse and domestic violence. I find it abhorring that sex offenders “with a high likelihood of re-offending” are being put back in our societies, often near schools and day care centers. This novel, a curious blend of fact and fiction, serves to remind us that there are monsters in our midst—and at first glance, you probably wouldn’t see them.
Eric Watkins has recurring nightmares of his step-father, The Tall Man—though Eric hasn’t seen him in years and still blames him for horrific abuses in the past.
Unbeknownst to Eric, The Tall Man has been obsessed with writing a dramatic screenplay, “Glass,” in which The Tall Man seeks revenge on Eric for destroying a once-happy home.
When the two are brought together and the drama explodes onto the stage of reality, lives are irreparably altered—including that of a police chief who is caught in the middle.
About the Author
Jim W. Coleman, 40, is an accomplished artist and author from Port Orchard, Washington. Originally from
Coleman has three young daughters, and enjoys family activities. Additionally, he loves to garden, sing and write music, drive Volkswagens, raise chickens, and volunteer. He has been active in the Bremerton/Port Orchard Kiwanis clubs for the past three years; and is active with the local PTA. He also is an ordained minister.
Coleman is a talented artist, who has made a name for himself in the
Visit his website at www.jimwcoleman.com.