We still believed in the first attorney. The Africa-American beauty. The attorney that wore the sexy clothing to court hearings. What I should say is that my son believed in her. He wasn’t thinking with his head, at least not the one that counts.
She had us to come to Florida a few days before the trial. She wanted to prepare us for the trial.
Sounds good. Doesn’t it? Well at that time, my son and I had never prepared for a trial. We did not know what we were to expect. Therefore anything that she did or said, we assumed was correct. How wrong we were!
After entering her office and meeting her associate, the attorney engaged us in some idle chatter. We didn’t talk about the case at first. In fact, in her low cut shirt, she talked about her guns. Yes, you heard me right. She talked about the guns that she owned. Wow, how appropriate as that.
She then proceeded to tell my son that the prosecutor is still offering 13 years for the 2 victims. Remember, they had consolidated the case.
Let’s also remember that the 2nd victim, a Caucasian man said that he was not interested in pursuing the case. He said in the incident report that he could not recognize the assailant. He never showed up for his deposition. He was not at any of the hearings or conferences. Our attorney said that he had a certain disdain for police and was disenchanted with the police. Because I like to keep it real, he did say that he the picture of 2 guns that the police detective showed him looked like the guns used. A picture of the guns taken from the phone from one of the guys that robbed by son at gun point. A black and white picture of 2 guns on a towel. I later decided to find identical guns with the same make, model and color and place them on a towel. I could not tell them apart. The male victim could not and would not say that he recognized my son. He was an honorable man. The lady police detective could not manipulate him.
Please note that this information is from the actual police reports and also made by the prosecutor at a hearing. It is on he record.
Well, our wonderful detective was trying to talk my son into taking the plea. She said that the prosecutor was going to fly the young man in. She said that we need to make a decision now before he is flown in and then nothing could be done about it. She then told my son that with the 2 victims, my son had a better chance of being convicted. Wow, what a wonderful prep for trial.
I asked our esteemed attorney if she asked the male victim if he was indeed coming to the hearing. She said that she had not talked with him. I couldn’t understand why not. I felt that the prosecutor was bluffing. Our attorney was supposed to talk with him. She never even tried to call him to find out if he was coming. Remember, he didn’t show up for the deposition.
Our attorney seemed to forget that it was she that did a deposition of the lady victim.
She seemed to forget that the lady victim made a 911 call and said that she could not identify the assailant. She said that half of his face was covered. She said that he wore a hoodie covering his forehead. She said that she could only see his eyes. She seemed to forget that the victim said that she wrote several statements. What was the need to write several statements? You will see below. I posted parts of the deposition.
How could the attorney forget all of this? The attorney did the deposition. When she suggested that my son take the plea for the umpteenth time, he began to sob. Here is a young man that is weeping. Here is a young man that had out his faith in this woman. He was crying. He was sobbing uncontrollably. His whole world was crashing down in front of him. The wretched sound that came from his lungs was a sound that I hoped that I would never hear again. Little did I know that I would hear that sound again.
I, too was in tears. Her law partner even looked moved. She even looked like, maybe she didn’t agree with what her partner was doing but she didn’t say anything.
That night, I thought that he was going to commit suicide at our hotel. I was scared and worried. I called the front desk. They knew us well because of all the times we had traveled to Florida. They called the police. They talked him out of the bathroom and asked him if he would like some psychological help. He was admitted to a psych ward for observation. My son. My good-natured, easily manipulated son. I could not believe this was happening. I was dying inside.
I am now going to post some statements from that deposition. Taken 12/2011
Q Do you remember, did you write a statement that night?
Q Okay. This is the second statement. This is the June statement. Give me a second here. Do you remember the officers that you talked with that night?
A I remember one of their faces, but I don’t remember his name.
Q Okay. So you wrote two statements. You wrote one that night and you wrote another later on?
Q Okay. Can you tell me why that was?
A Excuse me. What it was or when?
Q Yes, ma’am.
A I remember I was meeting with a detective and she had me write it a few times. I don’t remember exactly what they were for.
A It was usually after she would have me look at a series of pictures or she would ask me again, state what happened, keep on questioning me, so I would remember, so I wouldn’t forget when she would ask me questions later again. We met a few times. I believe that was why.
Q Let me ask you, let’s kind of start with that. You gave the statement that night? A Yes.
Q And Detective XXXXXXX wasn’t there?
A No, she wasn’t.
Imagine that. The detective was not there when the incident took place; yet she help the victim write statements. Some of these meeting took place in the victim’s home.
You know what my faithful followers, I have decided to post more of statements from the deposition, including statements from the detective’s deposition and some statements from the police reports. Please continue following this blog and thank you for your interests and comments.