Just Be True To Me

Chapter 7

The witness was someone from Clifford’s childhood, someone he recognized as soon as he laid eyes on him. He was everything Clifford strived not to be—a broke down blue collar worker that had to kill himself for a paycheck that wouldn’t be enough to cover the basic necessities.

His trucker hat pointed in Clifford’s direction as if it was suggesting that he was guilty.

Rosario said, “Please state your name.”

“Randall May.”

“Do you recognize the man that’s on trial? If so, what’s your association with him.”

“That’s Clifford Knight. He was my best friend growing up, but we haven’t seen or spoken to each other in years. Honestly, I don’t think he even recognizes me.”

“Is this guy dangerous?” Mia asked.

Clifford told her that they’d grown up together, having attended school together through high school. They spent the night at each other’s houses at least once a week and they also played Little League together.

“Would you say that you and Mr. Knight were close,” Rosario asked.

“We pretty much shared everything. Toys, clothes, food, girls.”

A murmur began to spread throughout the crowd.

“Would you say that you have a pretty good understanding of the dynamics between him and his parents? What are Mr. Knight’s parents like? I only ask because just about everything mentioning them has been scrubbed from public record.”

May’s gulp sounded through the microphone. Sweat began rolling down the sides of his face, which had turned into a two-toned combination of red and bright red. He took a sip from the glass of water.

“Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“No ma’am.” He gulped again. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness as he looked at Clifford. “If I’m being honest—”

“It would be in your best interest to be so. You’re under oath.”

May gulped a third time. “Marty Knight, Cliff’s dad was a mean sum-bi*ch. He was a drinker and drinking made him mad. After a couple six packs, you’d be better leaving the house until he sobered up or fell asleep.”

“Was he violent?” Rosario asked. “If so, have you ever witnessed him being violent?”

He used the hat to sop his forehead, wiping it again with his sleeve. “Yes.”

“To which question?”

“Both. He was violent and I’ve seen him be violent. Multiple times. He’s been violent with me too.”

“Please elaborate.”

Though Clifford released the tension in his fists, his jaw was still clenched tight, the ache beginning to spread toward his mind. Despite doing everything in his power to rid himself of his past, it still caught up with him. He forced his mind to think of all the money he was owed to distract himself. The tactic proved disastrous, in that some people from back home owed him money.

There would be no more running.

The gavel banged. “Let’s take a ten minute recess,” the judge said.

“What happened?”

Mia said, “Your friend asked for a bathroom break.”

Clifford was waiting for Mia when she exited the bathroom. He pulled her to the side and sat her down. “You need to object to whatever Randall is about to say.”

“For what? You told me everything, right?”

He ran his hands down his face. “I did, but I didn’t go into full detail. I didn’t think it would come up. I don’t even know how they found him. Is there anyway that you can get him off the stand.”

People began to file back into the courtroom.

“It can’t be that bad. And if it is, we’ll deal with it.” She stopped walking. “You don’t care about this guy, right, because there won’t be any chance of reconciling once I’m done.”

“Do what you have to do.”

The break didn’t appear to do May any good. His face was still bright red, his limbs even more restless. He hid his hat in his lap after the judge reminded him to take it off. His eyes darted across the room as he wrung his hands. He’d also adopted a slight rock.

Rosario took her place, standing directly in front of him. “Mr. May, would you please describe the violence you witnessed and experienced at the hands of Marty Knight, the defendant’s father.”

“He only beat me once. I still have the scar.” May held back the hair that hung over his forehead to reveal a disfigured scar that extended well into his scalp. “Clifford and Janet, that’s his mom, were Marty’s punching bags. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clifford without a mark.”

“Would you say that was the main reason he spent so much time out of his house.”

“Yes, ma’am. I only played baseball, but he played sports all year round. When he wasn’t at school, he was at practice. I think the only time he was at his house was to sleep and eat.”

Rosario pulled an easel into the middle of the room. The back of the poster was facing the audience. She reminded everyone that there was very little information about his past on the internet, claiming it to be an attempt to control the narrative. “One thing you can’t hide is police reports.” She flipped the poster around.

The gallery gasped, people covering their mouths, mothers covering their children’s eyes.

The picture was of a young Clifford, middle school aged. He was shirtless, standing against a grey wall with his arms spread wide. Green and brown splotches covered his chest, arms, and neck. Varying in size, they gave the appearance that he was wearing camouflage. Black and blue bruises spotted his face, his black eye barely open. It didn’t take much to imagine what the condition of his legs were.

A vein bulged from Clifford’s temple. His slid his leg from underneath Mia’s hand. His instinct was to run, but there was nowhere he could run to. He forced his eyes to stay open to keep from being yanked back down memory lane.

“This is what Mr. Knight was trying to hide. He wants the public to think he came from an unknown planet without flaw or fault,” Rosario said.

“Objection. Speculation.”

“Sustained,” the judge said. “Get to your point Ms. Rosario.”