So I've had this story idea in mind for a while. I've not actually done much on it, though. Here's what may end up as the first chapter (depending how chronologically I decide to tell the story.) Let me know what you think. If people are interested, I may start another blog specifically for this story (Book? We'll see).
Without further ado, our story commences:
It was just after 2:00 AM when the windows of Leonard Clump’s 27th floor law offices exploded out into the night, showering the streets below with glass and various fragments of desks, office chairs, and legal documents. Even the cleaning staff had gone home by this point, so nobody was harmed. Firefighters arrived at the scene within twenty minutes and police were investigating the next morning.
Len Clump himself was on CNN and MSNBC the next day denouncing the attack as obviously the act of a white supremacist seeking revenge on his persecuted black clients. “From Emmet Till to Rodney King to Treyvon Martin, we’ve faced senseless violence and hatred from the white man, and we’ve fought it with nothing but our own intelligence and determination. We will continue that fight.” It was in the news for two weeks, but then, as there were few new developments, faded away.
The Tallahassee police devoted all the detectives they could spare to the case, knowing that any misstep was likely to bring national attention. They had brief video of a suspect who may have planted the bomb, but weren’t able to identify anyone. The forensics lab was similarly stumped. The bomb, they said, appeared to have been deliberately constructed to destroy almost all of its primary components. Analyzing the explosives residue, they were able to track it to a package which was delivered to a post office box in Idaho over a year ago, and found nothing more.
So the event dropped out of the public eye. Apart from a few blogs and independent commentators, nobody thought much about it . . . until Clump died in an apparent car-jacking.
(3 years earlier)
“. . . and nothing but the truth,” Edmund Dantent finished, then looked around the courtroom. His throat was tight with anticipation of the questions he might have to answer. This week had been circled on his calendar for two months, although he didn’t know when his specific day would come.
Defense counsel Leonard Clump, standing at his podium, turned to look directly at Edmund for a moment before addressing him. His shaven black head gleamed in the courtroom’s bright lights.
Edmund’s eyes wandered to the defendant’s table, but he quickly looked away. He couldn’t look there, couldn’t think about that.
Clump tapped a button and put something on the screen on the far side of the courtroom. Edmund didn’t notice what it was as he was intently watching the lawyer.
Mr. Dantent, is this your Facebook account?”
“Yes, that looks like it.”
“And is this your post from August 17, 2014?”
The prosecuting attorney said, “Objection, your honor, relevance?”
Judge Liebowitz replied, “Overruled. Please answer the question.”
Edmund read the post to himself, then answered yes.
Clump read the post for the courtroom: “I don’t think this was murder. It looks to me like Michael Brown was attacking that cop. What was the cop supposed to do?”
Clump paused a moment before turning to the jury.
“This, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is the kind of racism and bigotry that my client had to face on a daily basis in this neighborhood.”
“Obje—"
“Overruled. Please continue.”
“And this is the kind of racism and bigotry was coming from this very man before you, creating a toxic environment, damaging to my client’s mental—“
Edmund could no longer contain himself here: “What’s going on? I’m not on trial here! I am the victim!”
At the first word, Judge Leibowitz began banging his gavel. “Order in the court! You are not to speak unless answering questions. Please continue, counsel.”
Edmund sat in shock as the lawyer droned on, barely noticing what was said until the lawyer had to repeat his name several times for the next question.
