judge stated.
“Gianna, what happened in the parking lot during the football game?”
“ We were both upset over the fact that we got kicked off the squad and I had lost my scholarship. We weren’t cheering at our last home game and we decided to get drunk instead.”
“ Did you recognize anyone in the parking lot? Anything happen?”
I knew the second I said his name everything would change. I was terrified.
“Miss Edwards please answer the question. Who did you see in the parking lot on March 7, 2005?” I didn’t say anything.
“May I remind you that you are still under oath and are mandated to answer the question?” I stayed silent, not wanting to answer the question. I looked around the room at all the faces and what they expected of me; each one of them eagerly waiting for me to respond.
I looked down in my lap , hoping it would make it easier for me to answer. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
“He was in the parking lot . He was walking with his family to a car I didn’t recognize, he looked like he was saying goodbye to them. We watched the car leave and then he walked to his truck.”
“ The ‘he’ that you speak of–” he paused “–is he in the courtroom?”
I nodded, remembering I had to answer. I whispered, “Yes…”
“Who is he, Gianna?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and dug my nail into my skin. I felt nothing.
“Mr. Nic hols. Mr. Nichols was in the parking lot that night.”
I jolted when the waitress told me my cab was outside waiting for me. I placed a ten-dollar bill on the table before making my way to the taxi.
“Can you stop at the liquor store on the corner please ?” I asked the driver.
I hurriedly walked down the halls of my apartment building; kicking my door closed and eagerly placed the bottles on the counter, I poured straight whiskey into a glass and took it down in one gulp; I repeated it three more times. I couldn’t breathe, I felt like there was a hole in my chest that was allowing all the air to leave my lungs. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to breathe again.
The red blinking button on my answering machine caught my attention. I pressed play. “Gianna, it’s your mother–” Delete.
“Gianna, where are you–” Delete.
“Gianna, why aren’t you–” Delete.
There were ten more just like that…
“Good morning, this is Christine Benson from The York Chronicle. I am looking for Gianna Edwards. We are doing a spread on James Nichols and would love to get a statement on how you feel about his early release–” Delete.
“Good evening, this is Chris Garrison from the Vegas times. I am looking for Gianna Edwards. We are very interested in interviewing you on the upcoming early release–” Delete.
There were seven more just like that…
“Gia…we…I…” Click, dial tone.
It was the first time I heard her voice, other than her answering machine, in six and a half years.
“Mother fucker,” I yelled.
“Gianna, we have already established that Mr. Nichols was the one in the parking lot the night of March 7, 2005. What happened when you saw him?” the prosecution proceeded.
“ Nothing; we watched him get into his truck and leave.”
“What happened after that?”
“We followed him. All we wanted to do was get a chance to talk to him and see if there was anything he could do to help us. I lost my scholarship and we just wanted the opportunity to talk it out with him.” It was the truth, I was telling the truth as the tears streamed down my face and I had to close my eyes to stop them.
“Proceed, Gianna.”
I cried, “I can’t…”
“Your Honor, permission for a recess to consult with my client?
“Granted. Court will recess for two hours.” When I heard the gavel hit, I jumped.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it in a comforting motion. He placed his hand on my lower back and escorted me to my parents. My mother immediately pulled me into a hug and told me she was proud of me. I
“Gianna, what happened in the parking lot during the football game?”
“ We were both upset over the fact that we got kicked off the squad and I had lost my scholarship. We weren’t cheering at our last home game and we decided to get drunk instead.”
“ Did you recognize anyone in the parking lot? Anything happen?”
I knew the second I said his name everything would change. I was terrified.
“Miss Edwards please answer the question. Who did you see in the parking lot on March 7, 2005?” I didn’t say anything.
“May I remind you that you are still under oath and are mandated to answer the question?” I stayed silent, not wanting to answer the question. I looked around the room at all the faces and what they expected of me; each one of them eagerly waiting for me to respond.
I looked down in my lap , hoping it would make it easier for me to answer. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
“He was in the parking lot . He was walking with his family to a car I didn’t recognize, he looked like he was saying goodbye to them. We watched the car leave and then he walked to his truck.”
“ The ‘he’ that you speak of–” he paused “–is he in the courtroom?”
I nodded, remembering I had to answer. I whispered, “Yes…”
“Who is he, Gianna?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and dug my nail into my skin. I felt nothing.
“Mr. Nic hols. Mr. Nichols was in the parking lot that night.”
I jolted when the waitress told me my cab was outside waiting for me. I placed a ten-dollar bill on the table before making my way to the taxi.
“Can you stop at the liquor store on the corner please ?” I asked the driver.
I hurriedly walked down the halls of my apartment building; kicking my door closed and eagerly placed the bottles on the counter, I poured straight whiskey into a glass and took it down in one gulp; I repeated it three more times. I couldn’t breathe, I felt like there was a hole in my chest that was allowing all the air to leave my lungs. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to breathe again.
The red blinking button on my answering machine caught my attention. I pressed play. “Gianna, it’s your mother–” Delete.
“Gianna, where are you–” Delete.
“Gianna, why aren’t you–” Delete.
There were ten more just like that…
“Good morning, this is Christine Benson from The York Chronicle. I am looking for Gianna Edwards. We are doing a spread on James Nichols and would love to get a statement on how you feel about his early release–” Delete.
“Good evening, this is Chris Garrison from the Vegas times. I am looking for Gianna Edwards. We are very interested in interviewing you on the upcoming early release–” Delete.
There were seven more just like that…
“Gia…we…I…” Click, dial tone.
It was the first time I heard her voice, other than her answering machine, in six and a half years.
“Mother fucker,” I yelled.
“Gianna, we have already established that Mr. Nichols was the one in the parking lot the night of March 7, 2005. What happened when you saw him?” the prosecution proceeded.
“ Nothing; we watched him get into his truck and leave.”
“What happened after that?”
“We followed him. All we wanted to do was get a chance to talk to him and see if there was anything he could do to help us. I lost my scholarship and we just wanted the opportunity to talk it out with him.” It was the truth, I was telling the truth as the tears streamed down my face and I had to close my eyes to stop them.
“Proceed, Gianna.”
I cried, “I can’t…”
“Your Honor, permission for a recess to consult with my client?
“Granted. Court will recess for two hours.” When I heard the gavel hit, I jumped.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it in a comforting motion. He placed his hand on my lower back and escorted me to my parents. My mother immediately pulled me into a hug and told me she was proud of me. I
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