The Trial

The former president securing the nomination ended up being anti-climactic. We stopped talking so much about politics anyway. We were in love. Even now it’s crazy to write. We had to sneak around a lot, there was no getting around that. I had been mercifully kept out of the trial proceedings. I had one day with the grand jury. I testified for several hours, they went into details about my relationship with Wynken, Blynken and Nod, with Josiah, and with each of them individually. Some of it was embarrassing but because of the politically delicate nature of the whole thing, the grand jury deliberations were sealed. It caused a bit of a ruckus with some of the transparency activists, but the prospect of a trial that sounded like it would be open to cameras kept the media at least from complaining too much. And they’re a lot bigger than some transparency activists.

My relationship with Kendra didn’t come up in the grand jury questioning. I don’t mean our burgeoning romantic entanglement. They only really asked a couple of questions. They asked if I voted for her, and they asked if I ever attended a protest against her. I declined to answer the first one. I hadn’t, but it wasn’t anyone’s business to compel me to reveal my secret ballot. I can tell you freely. As to the second question, I answered that I was sure I had but hoped the prosecutor didn’t expect me to remember each one. I thought it would get a laugh but it didn’t.

Kendra told me later she had had to press the district attorney to limit questions about her, and that she mentioned me specifically as somebody “easy” to avoid asking questions to about her. The district attorney agreed.

The trial was set for the summer. It was going to be a media frenzy. The national networks were all interested. One of the morning shows did a whole week in the town, not specifically about the media frenzy, but about political polarization and violence, some theme like that. Neoliberal drivel.

I hadn’t talked to Josiah, Wynken, Blynken or Nod since the incident. Kendra put me in touch with a lawyer that strongly advised against it. He was worried the defense attorneys would try to use me to sow reasonable doubt. Stay away, he told me. My grand jury testimony was long, but in the end the defense attorneys were worried I’d be helpful to the prosecution and the prosecution was worried I’d be helpful to the defense attorneys so I stayed off the witness list.

Nevertheless, I felt bad about Josiah and Wynken and Nod and even Blynken, who of course shot me. They were facing long sentences. The plea deal was for twenty years, so I imagined the sentences would be that much longer. And the trial. There was no way they were getting off. It was an obvious crime and the police hadn’t really made any mistakes because there weren’t really any opportunities for them to make mistakes. It was the kind of case the cliché open and shut case was coined for. A trial seemed pointless. I told Kendra that.

-They should take the plea deal, she said matter-of-factly as we laid in her bed one morning. We had until then been talking about what it would look like if she decided to walk away from politics and go to Italy to do the studies she never got to do. I had decided the most important thing was to get her out of politics. I don’t remember how the conversation shifted.

-The plea deal wasn’t fair, I responded, defensive of friends I hadn’t talked to in months.

-How many times do I have to tell you what’s fair or not fair is useless. The district attorney’s got an election to think about. What’s five years for a bunch of malcontents who tried to kill a politician? Who tried to kill me?

-It’s a long time. I don’t know what I wanted to defend them for or why I said what I said next, but what I said was: they didn’t hurt you.

-Gun violence is a mental health epidemic, she lectured at me, using a refrain I had brought up during one of early debates over the basic third rails of American politics. I wasn’t physically injured.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. She smiled.

-Do you see how silly that sounds? In a real conversation?

-If they were shooting at you every week, it wouldn’t sound so silly.

She didn’t like that one bit, I could tell immediately.

-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. The whole thing sucks. They hurt me. I don’t mind. I’m glad that part happened. It was what finally brought us together.

What I said must have had an effect on her. Two days later it was announced that Wynken and Nod took a five year deal and Josiah got probation. Only Blynken would go to trial. At first Kendra wouldn’t admit she had had anything to do with it. It was some kind of federal thing, part of a move to tamp down on political violence by offering clemency for prominent but low-risk prisoners on both sides.

Later I learned that the district attorney’s office wasn’t interested in participating in the federal initiative, and that Kendra called a favor in to make it happen. But she never admitted it.

For Blynken there was no trial after all. He was placed in protective custody the day after Josiah was released, then hanged himself in his jail cell.

The note blamed me and my "obsession" with Kendra.