"Medium Security" V - Ch. 39
Only one more chapter.
By Gaedhal
Chapter 39
April 1979
Brian sat in the courtroom wearing his new suit.
It was dark gray and had been fitted to his body by Ron's
tailor. Brian had four new suits in gray, blue, brown, and
a tan shade that Ron called 'fawn.' And he had new shirts to
match them. And ties, too. All selected to compliment Brian's
coloring. Altered by the tailor to fit Brian like a glove. All
designed to make the perfect impression.
All bullshit, as far as Brian was concerned.
But that was out of his hands now. His entire life was out of
his control until the verdict came down.
And after that....
Brian's re-trial lasted two days. The PLD had waived Brian's
right to a jury and left it to the judge to make the final decision.
Julie said that this judge was a good one. He was an old man,
almost ready for retirement, but he was fair. And he was a
man of the old school who was angered by many of the abuses
in the Prosecutor's Office that had culminated in James
Stockwell's downfall.
Judge Morris Feldman listened stonefaced to the case that the
prosecution presented, which mainly consisted of information
that was over a decade old. Then he listened to Julie's defense,
who offered as its centerpiece the testimony of Kirk Bradley,
the admitted mastermind of the Penn State Bombings. Bradley
was mechanical as he recited his well-rehearsed story, looking
directly ahead and never once glancing at the man whose life
he had ruined so many years before. But Kirk Bradley said
what needed to be said. And he said it convincingly.
To Brian Kirk Bradley's testimony seemed like a tale from a
distant time and place. His biggest fear had been that he wouldn't
be able to listen to Kirk without breaking down, but that had
not been the case. Perhaps sitting with Kirk, face to face, and
realizing that Kirk had no real remorse or understanding
of what he had done to Brian had bled all of the emotion out of
the big moment in court, because Brian felt nothing. Instead,
it was like he was disembodied from it all, as if the story Kirk
told had happened to another person, in, as Shakespeare had said,
another country.
So Brian sat passively over both days of his trial and simply
listened. It had already been decided that he would not testify.
His version of the story wasn't necessary, Julie assured him.
The only thing up in the air was whether the judge would find
Brian guilty on all of the remaining charges or only some of
them. But no matter what, Brian had already served years
beyond the time to which he could possibly be sentenced. It
was all a formality. All a show.
And now that the real Penn State Bomber was going to plead
guilty and avoid going to trial, this was who the reporters had
to work with -- Brian Kinney. But this Brian Kinney also made
a perfect picture for their cameras. Tall, handsome, well-mannered,
and elegantly turned out in an expensive designer suit (thanks to
Ron and his tailor), Kinney appeared more like the film version
of a defendant than the real thing. So there he was -- the wronged
man. The man with a compelling -- and juicy -- story to tell.
And a book to be published in the fall. A celebrity in the making.
Brian tried not to look around at the people who had crowded the
courtroom in order to gape at him. He was too afraid of what they
might read on his face.
Justin was sitting in the first row, directly behind him, so close
that Brian could hear him breathing and smell his herbal shampoo.
Justin's mother, Jennifer Taylor, sat next to him, and next to her
was her fiancé, Ron Rosenblum. All of the men and women from
the Prisoners' Legal Defense were sitting in the next row behind
them, from John, who was ready to retire and hand over the reins
of the PLD to Ron, to Josh, the paralegal Brian had been training
to work at Stanton. This was their showcase trial, their greatest
success, and they didn't want to miss it.
Also in the courtroom were Brian's literary agent, James Crossley,
and his new editor, Ed McCandless. And Amy Carver and her friend
from Carnegie Mellon, Will Foxe. And Debbie Novotny, too, wearing
a new red wig and the shocking pink spring coat she had bought for
Easter. They were all there to see Justice done. All there to see
Brian set free, finally.
And standing at the very back, near the door, was a nondescript
man dressed in a plain dark suit. This wasn't the end for the Feds,
it was only the beginning. Now they knew the names of all of the
Penn State Bombers. Kirk Bradley had sung like a bird. He was
wrapped up tightly with a big bow and the other conspirators
would soon follow. None of them would get away this time. Brian
Kinney could go on his merry way. He was no longer important.
His purpose had been served.
At the end of the trial Judge Morris Feldman gave a speech about
the wheels of Justice turning slowly, but turning all the same.
About all of the years that it had taken to come to this moment.
Then he asked Brian to stand. He apologized to Brian. Apologized
for his wasted youth. For what he had endured. Then Judge
Feldman found him guilty on the charge of being an accessory
to vandalism and breaking and entering, but found him not
guilty as an accessory to burglary. Then he sentenced him to
time already served. And it was over. Court was adjourned.
The bailiffs tried to clear the room, but reporters pressed
around, clamoring for a comment from Brian or his attorney.
Julie, however, shook her head and put herself between the
press and her client. "Don't say anything, Brian," she had
told him before. "We'll release a written statement after
it's all over."
The press also tried to get something out of Justin or Jennifer
or Ron, who they identified as Brian Kinney's "immediate
family." But Ron announced grandly that he would be holding a
press conference at the offices of the Prisoners' Legal Defense
at noon the next day to discuss Brian Kinney, his upcoming book,
and the upcoming sentencing of Kirk Bradley. Julie rolled her
eyes when she heard this, but there was nothing she could
do since Ron would soon be her new boss.
With no new statements from any of the principals, the press
grabbed at everyone who looked like they knew Brian Kinney
and shoved a microphone in their faces. That's how Debbie
Novotny ended up on Channel 6 that evening. She was glad that
she had worn her new wig and coat. They looked real good on TV!
Nice and colorful. She hoped that Mikey and his friends in
Stanton were watching.
"In a week they'll have forgotten who you are, Brian -- for
the time being," said Ron as they settled into the limo the PLD
had hired to take them away from the courthouse. "That's the
way it is. A new story will push this one off the front pages. But
we don't want them to completely forget about you, Brian. While
you work on your book I plan to feed a few selected journalists
enough information to keep them interested. That way when
your book comes out in the fall we'll have some sympathetic
press ready to play up its release. Some of the other Penn
State gang should be coming up for trial by then and that will
also stir up interest in what you have to say. But I want to pick
and choose the items and where they will appear. The placement
of information is key to the success of my new strategy for the
PLD."
"Sure, Ron," Brian said. "Whatever you say."
"Is it really over?" asked Justin, putting his arm around Brian's
waist. Justin was relieved to be out of the courthouse and away
from the reporters, but Brian still seemed tense and edgy.
"Yes, honey!" said Jennifer, happily. "Now we can focus on the
wedding! Right, Ronnie?"
"Of course, my dear," Ron said with satisfaction. "The wedding."
"No," Brian said in a low voice. "It's never fucking over, Justin.
There's always something else. Something you never thought of
ready to hit you on your blind-side."
Justin touched Brian's face gently. "Maybe there's always
something else coming, but it'll be nothing but good that's going
to come to us." Justin glanced out the window of the moving car.
It was a beautiful April day, full of sun. "Next week is your
birthday. Remember last year when I gave your party in the
Quad? Who would've thought that in a year we'd both be out?
That we'd be starting a new life -- together? Nothing but
good things from now on, Brian! I promise!"
But Brian couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say. 'Hope'
was still a word in a foreign language that Brian was desperately
trying to learn.
By Gaedhal
Chapter 39
April 1979
Brian sat in the courtroom wearing his new suit.
It was dark gray and had been fitted to his body by Ron's
tailor. Brian had four new suits in gray, blue, brown, and
a tan shade that Ron called 'fawn.' And he had new shirts to
match them. And ties, too. All selected to compliment Brian's
coloring. Altered by the tailor to fit Brian like a glove. All
designed to make the perfect impression.
All bullshit, as far as Brian was concerned.
But that was out of his hands now. His entire life was out of
his control until the verdict came down.
And after that....
Brian's re-trial lasted two days. The PLD had waived Brian's
right to a jury and left it to the judge to make the final decision.
Julie said that this judge was a good one. He was an old man,
almost ready for retirement, but he was fair. And he was a
man of the old school who was angered by many of the abuses
in the Prosecutor's Office that had culminated in James
Stockwell's downfall.
Judge Morris Feldman listened stonefaced to the case that the
prosecution presented, which mainly consisted of information
that was over a decade old. Then he listened to Julie's defense,
who offered as its centerpiece the testimony of Kirk Bradley,
the admitted mastermind of the Penn State Bombings. Bradley
was mechanical as he recited his well-rehearsed story, looking
directly ahead and never once glancing at the man whose life
he had ruined so many years before. But Kirk Bradley said
what needed to be said. And he said it convincingly.
To Brian Kirk Bradley's testimony seemed like a tale from a
distant time and place. His biggest fear had been that he wouldn't
be able to listen to Kirk without breaking down, but that had
not been the case. Perhaps sitting with Kirk, face to face, and
realizing that Kirk had no real remorse or understanding
of what he had done to Brian had bled all of the emotion out of
the big moment in court, because Brian felt nothing. Instead,
it was like he was disembodied from it all, as if the story Kirk
told had happened to another person, in, as Shakespeare had said,
another country.
So Brian sat passively over both days of his trial and simply
listened. It had already been decided that he would not testify.
His version of the story wasn't necessary, Julie assured him.
The only thing up in the air was whether the judge would find
Brian guilty on all of the remaining charges or only some of
them. But no matter what, Brian had already served years
beyond the time to which he could possibly be sentenced. It
was all a formality. All a show.
And now that the real Penn State Bomber was going to plead
guilty and avoid going to trial, this was who the reporters had
to work with -- Brian Kinney. But this Brian Kinney also made
a perfect picture for their cameras. Tall, handsome, well-mannered,
and elegantly turned out in an expensive designer suit (thanks to
Ron and his tailor), Kinney appeared more like the film version
of a defendant than the real thing. So there he was -- the wronged
man. The man with a compelling -- and juicy -- story to tell.
And a book to be published in the fall. A celebrity in the making.
Brian tried not to look around at the people who had crowded the
courtroom in order to gape at him. He was too afraid of what they
might read on his face.
Justin was sitting in the first row, directly behind him, so close
that Brian could hear him breathing and smell his herbal shampoo.
Justin's mother, Jennifer Taylor, sat next to him, and next to her
was her fiancé, Ron Rosenblum. All of the men and women from
the Prisoners' Legal Defense were sitting in the next row behind
them, from John, who was ready to retire and hand over the reins
of the PLD to Ron, to Josh, the paralegal Brian had been training
to work at Stanton. This was their showcase trial, their greatest
success, and they didn't want to miss it.
Also in the courtroom were Brian's literary agent, James Crossley,
and his new editor, Ed McCandless. And Amy Carver and her friend
from Carnegie Mellon, Will Foxe. And Debbie Novotny, too, wearing
a new red wig and the shocking pink spring coat she had bought for
Easter. They were all there to see Justice done. All there to see
Brian set free, finally.
And standing at the very back, near the door, was a nondescript
man dressed in a plain dark suit. This wasn't the end for the Feds,
it was only the beginning. Now they knew the names of all of the
Penn State Bombers. Kirk Bradley had sung like a bird. He was
wrapped up tightly with a big bow and the other conspirators
would soon follow. None of them would get away this time. Brian
Kinney could go on his merry way. He was no longer important.
His purpose had been served.
At the end of the trial Judge Morris Feldman gave a speech about
the wheels of Justice turning slowly, but turning all the same.
About all of the years that it had taken to come to this moment.
Then he asked Brian to stand. He apologized to Brian. Apologized
for his wasted youth. For what he had endured. Then Judge
Feldman found him guilty on the charge of being an accessory
to vandalism and breaking and entering, but found him not
guilty as an accessory to burglary. Then he sentenced him to
time already served. And it was over. Court was adjourned.
The bailiffs tried to clear the room, but reporters pressed
around, clamoring for a comment from Brian or his attorney.
Julie, however, shook her head and put herself between the
press and her client. "Don't say anything, Brian," she had
told him before. "We'll release a written statement after
it's all over."
The press also tried to get something out of Justin or Jennifer
or Ron, who they identified as Brian Kinney's "immediate
family." But Ron announced grandly that he would be holding a
press conference at the offices of the Prisoners' Legal Defense
at noon the next day to discuss Brian Kinney, his upcoming book,
and the upcoming sentencing of Kirk Bradley. Julie rolled her
eyes when she heard this, but there was nothing she could
do since Ron would soon be her new boss.
With no new statements from any of the principals, the press
grabbed at everyone who looked like they knew Brian Kinney
and shoved a microphone in their faces. That's how Debbie
Novotny ended up on Channel 6 that evening. She was glad that
she had worn her new wig and coat. They looked real good on TV!
Nice and colorful. She hoped that Mikey and his friends in
Stanton were watching.
"In a week they'll have forgotten who you are, Brian -- for
the time being," said Ron as they settled into the limo the PLD
had hired to take them away from the courthouse. "That's the
way it is. A new story will push this one off the front pages. But
we don't want them to completely forget about you, Brian. While
you work on your book I plan to feed a few selected journalists
enough information to keep them interested. That way when
your book comes out in the fall we'll have some sympathetic
press ready to play up its release. Some of the other Penn
State gang should be coming up for trial by then and that will
also stir up interest in what you have to say. But I want to pick
and choose the items and where they will appear. The placement
of information is key to the success of my new strategy for the
PLD."
"Sure, Ron," Brian said. "Whatever you say."
"Is it really over?" asked Justin, putting his arm around Brian's
waist. Justin was relieved to be out of the courthouse and away
from the reporters, but Brian still seemed tense and edgy.
"Yes, honey!" said Jennifer, happily. "Now we can focus on the
wedding! Right, Ronnie?"
"Of course, my dear," Ron said with satisfaction. "The wedding."
"No," Brian said in a low voice. "It's never fucking over, Justin.
There's always something else. Something you never thought of
ready to hit you on your blind-side."
Justin touched Brian's face gently. "Maybe there's always
something else coming, but it'll be nothing but good that's going
to come to us." Justin glanced out the window of the moving car.
It was a beautiful April day, full of sun. "Next week is your
birthday. Remember last year when I gave your party in the
Quad? Who would've thought that in a year we'd both be out?
That we'd be starting a new life -- together? Nothing but
good things from now on, Brian! I promise!"
But Brian couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say. 'Hope'
was still a word in a foreign language that Brian was desperately
trying to learn.