Chapter 19 Trial_2

The entire courthouse corridor was packed, people either squeezed onto the lengthy benches or stood in line along the walls.

Their time had not yet come, as Room 213 was in the midst of hearing other cases.

Dean and his party had just found a place to sit when the dust-covered Wedner hurried over.

"Hey, guys, I've got some news, I'm not sure if it's good or not, do you want to hear it?"

"Come on, Mr. Wedner, at this point, what's the use of playing coy?" Dean Grant, who had just been relieved of 600 US Dollars by this fellow, was still holding a grudge.

"Dean," Aunt Rachel gave Dean a reproachful look before politely inquiring about any updates from Wedner.

"The prosecutor's office, under external pressure, has just hinted to Peter. If he pleads guilty, they could reduce his felony grade from A to B." The news Wedner brought wasn't exactly good or bad.

For misdemeanors, a Grade A could mean up to a year of imprisonment, while Grade B would immediately drop to three months. But Dean and his group were aiming for a Grade C, with no more than 30 days of jail time.

If convicted of a Grade C misdemeanor, considering the time Peter was detained before trial, it would make up exactly 30 days as of today. That meant he would be released in court and go home with Dean and the others for Christmas.

"Lawyer Wedner, what's your advice?" On legal matters, Dean still very much trusted Wedner's judgment.

Shrugging, Wedner said, "I mean, it's come to this, we might as well push through the final stretch. Even if we encounter a tough spot, we still have a chance to fight for a Grade B misdemeanor."

Peter was initially arrested on the spot for DUI and faced serious criminal charges.

Peter felt he was wronged, so after communicating with his lawyer, he insisted on pleading not guilty.

His original thought was, if everyone expects me to go to prison, I'll just not go along with their wishes.

Afterwards, because of the moves made by Dean and others outside, the police couldn't withstand the pressure of public opinion and now planned to reduce the charges from a felony to a misdemeanor.

Of course, this was still based on Peter pleading guilty, but Wedner believed that they were now in an advantageous position and should press on.

After a brief discussion with his aunt, Dean agreed to follow Wedner's judgment, as he was the professional, after all.

With a clear response from Dean and his party, Wedner rushed off to confer with Peter, as there were some things that needed to be explained in advance.

Half an hour later, the bailiff finally called Peter's name outside Room 213.

Aunt Rachel covered Dean's hand with her own and patted it, then walked with him into the courtroom.

Room 213 seemed much more spacious than the crowded corridor outside. As soon as they entered, one could see the imposing wooden columns at the back of the courtroom and the fresco hanging between them.

The painting depicted Moses descending Mount Sinai holding the intact tablets of the Ten Commandments, overlooking the Jews dancing around the Golden Calf in the desert.

After taking their seats in the family area, Dean glanced around. The spectator section also had dozens of people, many of whom were from the same community as them.

Because the courtroom prohibited noise, many people sent Dean a fist pump when they saw him as a way to cheer him on.

As soon as the clock struck ten, the judge seated at the highest position at the front announced the start of the trial.

The first segment involved the public prosecutor—from the district attorney's office—presenting the details of Peter's case and listing the evidence.

Everything was handled by the book. A second DUI offense should, by law, be severely punished.

After the prosecution finished presenting, Wedner, representing the defense, immediately raised objections. He questioned the police's evidence collection methods, and the veracity of the results.

As previously mentioned, if the police's evidence collection methods violated procedural rules, then the evidence itself was put into doubt.

After Peter insisted that he had not authorized the police to conduct the alcohol test, the county police's attitude softened, as their law enforcement methods were indeed slightly problematic.

Moreover, Peter's first DUI record was merely a failed sobriety test, which resulted in a mark for warning. Hence, both parties gradually reached a consensus that Peter should not be punished as a felon.

However, in the end, the plaintiff and defendant could not agree on whether Peter was guilty, and this required the judge to make a ruling.

"So, Mr. Peter, did you really drink alcohol that day?" Judge Sheryl Witt looked up at Peter, dressed in an orange prison uniform.

"I can't remember, I was too heartbroken that day. My wife had just passed away, and I was devastated. What's worse, my eldest son had also gone missing.

I had no heart for work or for eating. But still, I insisted on getting into the truck and driving it to its destination. Because I knew there was another child who needed my care, and I still shouldered the responsibilities of a father."

Peter, with tears brimming in his eyes, turned his deeply emotional gaze toward the audience, "Let me see you, okay? My pride, my brilliant and talented son, Dean! I know you're here; I know you've been supporting me."

Mother F*ck! How can he just summon tears like that? Dean never suspected his old man had such a talent.

"Yes, father, I'm right here. The professors at school say I have a psychological issue, which I think must be because of your situation." Dean sniffed, his clear blue eyes visibly filling with tears.

"My GPA score of 3.8 is among the best in the school, and I've also received a full scholarship from Cleveland State University. But all of these accomplishments I achieved under your guidance, I can't live without you in my life."

Rachel, his aunt, kept wiping her tears; she was moved by the deep father-son bond. In fact, it wasn't just her—many white women in the audience area were also discreetly dabbing their eyes.

Oh my god, they're really so pitiable. Such a passionate man, he must have loved his wife dearly. And the well-behaved child, his achievements are so remarkable, how much of a blow to his heart would it be to lose the support of his father.

Judge Sheryl Witt, a woman herself, sighed before turning to Wedner, "Does the defense counsel have anything else to say?"

"Your Honor, my client was clearly suffering from severe psychological trauma at the time of the incident, and all his actions were not of his own volition.

Furthermore, alcoholism is medically considered an uncontrollable physiological disease, and under the dual onslaught of physical and psychological trauma, no one can maintain one hundred percent capacity.

Fortunately, everything was within controllable limits; no one was seriously harmed, and no one other than the state has brought forth a lawsuit.

So, for the love of the Blessed Virgin Mary, please give this poor family a chance to start over."

As Wedner stepped down, a buzzing of conversation arose in the courtroom. Most people were inclined to believe that Peter's drunk driving was due to psychological harm, not malicious intent on his part.

"Now I call upon the jury to go to the jury room and deliberate over the case." Judge Sheryl Witt handed the decision-making over to the jury.