Short Story: The Superior Court
“All rise,” a sexy baritone voice announced from the black muscle-bound Bailiff as he continued speaking to the brimming courtroom gallery, “The Superior Court is now in session. Honorable Judge Ricardo Sandoval presiding. Docket Sixty-Nine: Rutherford vs. Kim. Please be seated.”
At the defense table, the legal counsel of Rearin sat with the Defendant alone until a creak of the back courtroom door exhibited a tidied-up Conor McKinley, whose stroll to the defense table was noticeable by the courtroom gallery and the twelve jurors.
McKinley’s athletic body and confident attitude were a breath of fresh air to this otherwise beginning humdrum experience for these twelve sequestered jurors, who sat listening to the Prosecutor’s opening statement. …show more content…
Conor eventually answered Rearin, “Let’s say, he’s indisposed. Now, I’m here to help you. And, you have a client waiting.”
It wasn't in Rearin’s character to waste the Court’s time.
Hell, he's seen his share of Hardwood inappropriate behavior.
Regardless, Conor was right.
Here was their client...
An immigrant from South Korea.
Who spoke little to no English, properly.
Much less understood why he’s on trial for murder.
Meek and scared of Life in prison.
And a faggot, to boot.
Rearin nodded his head in disgust.
With his omission of his homosexuality, Min-jun Kim’s rising career in South Korea’s National Symphony abruptly ended. Fortunately, an opportunity to relocate to this prestigious orchestra in this upstate buttoned-down million dollar mansion hamlet known as Pinewood Estates came to Min-jun with assistance of the Rutherfords.
That was ten months ago. Now, his benevolent benefactor was found by her maid; bludgeoned to death by the nightstand candlestick. And, all fingers pointed to Min-jun Kim, her bedtime companion, being arrested for the murder of Mrs Audrey …show more content…
Rearin spoke as he grabbed Conor’s bicep, “Escort him. He’s been on suicide watch. There’s no time for funny business.”
McKinley posed the towering, baldheaded Bailiff, “May, I join him?”
“Whatever, you wish. He’s your concern, not mine.”
The two followed Bailiff Bob past the jury box, where the eyes were once again upon Conor’s seductive derrière; luckily, no one seemed to view Min-jun’s hard-on that concealed by his baggy jail jumpsuit and fidgeting hands.
Then, the Bailiff Bob ushered them into an interior corridor with its partial marble and wood paneling walls that would eventually sequester to jurors in the renowned Deliberation Room at its far end.
Conor grinned as he thought, It only takes one hung juror.
Stopping at the door of Men’s Room, this husky Bailiff Bob curiously spoke, “You’ve got fifteen. Make the most of it.”
The Bailiff stood guard, while mischievous smirking Conor followed Kim as they entered an emptied Men’s Room.
Once inside and facing a urinal, Min-jun dropped his pants to his ankles and yanked down his skintight Andrew Christian labeled boxers over his dimpled ass cheeks.
McKinley simply pondered, I haven’t peed like that since
At the defense table, the legal counsel of Rearin sat with the Defendant alone until a creak of the back courtroom door exhibited a tidied-up Conor McKinley, whose stroll to the defense table was noticeable by the courtroom gallery and the twelve jurors.
McKinley’s athletic body and confident attitude were a breath of fresh air to this otherwise beginning humdrum experience for these twelve sequestered jurors, who sat listening to the Prosecutor’s opening statement. …show more content…
Conor eventually answered Rearin, “Let’s say, he’s indisposed. Now, I’m here to help you. And, you have a client waiting.”
It wasn't in Rearin’s character to waste the Court’s time.
Hell, he's seen his share of Hardwood inappropriate behavior.
Regardless, Conor was right.
Here was their client...
An immigrant from South Korea.
Who spoke little to no English, properly.
Much less understood why he’s on trial for murder.
Meek and scared of Life in prison.
And a faggot, to boot.
Rearin nodded his head in disgust.
With his omission of his homosexuality, Min-jun Kim’s rising career in South Korea’s National Symphony abruptly ended. Fortunately, an opportunity to relocate to this prestigious orchestra in this upstate buttoned-down million dollar mansion hamlet known as Pinewood Estates came to Min-jun with assistance of the Rutherfords.
That was ten months ago. Now, his benevolent benefactor was found by her maid; bludgeoned to death by the nightstand candlestick. And, all fingers pointed to Min-jun Kim, her bedtime companion, being arrested for the murder of Mrs Audrey …show more content…
Rearin spoke as he grabbed Conor’s bicep, “Escort him. He’s been on suicide watch. There’s no time for funny business.”
McKinley posed the towering, baldheaded Bailiff, “May, I join him?”
“Whatever, you wish. He’s your concern, not mine.”
The two followed Bailiff Bob past the jury box, where the eyes were once again upon Conor’s seductive derrière; luckily, no one seemed to view Min-jun’s hard-on that concealed by his baggy jail jumpsuit and fidgeting hands.
Then, the Bailiff Bob ushered them into an interior corridor with its partial marble and wood paneling walls that would eventually sequester to jurors in the renowned Deliberation Room at its far end.
Conor grinned as he thought, It only takes one hung juror.
Stopping at the door of Men’s Room, this husky Bailiff Bob curiously spoke, “You’ve got fifteen. Make the most of it.”
The Bailiff stood guard, while mischievous smirking Conor followed Kim as they entered an emptied Men’s Room.
Once inside and facing a urinal, Min-jun dropped his pants to his ankles and yanked down his skintight Andrew Christian labeled boxers over his dimpled ass cheeks.
McKinley simply pondered, I haven’t peed like that since