ONE

The Supreme Court of Justice was hushed as everyone waited for the judge to arrive. Amber Banks sat next to her attorney with her head held high at the Counsel’s table. Her emerald green eyes stared straight at the wooden panelled walls opposite from where she sat, not making eye contact with anyone. She was dressed in an oversized orange prisoner jumpsuit which was much too big for her petite frame and her fiery red curls were tied back in a loose ponytail.  

Behind her, a soft glow of warm sunlight streamed into the otherwise stuffy room filled with highly tensed people, highlighting the dust particles that danced and twirled in the air.

To the untrained eye, Amber came off as aloof, emanating a sense of emotional detachment from her surroundings - inwardly however, she was breaking down.

None of the jury sitting behind the bulletproof glass wall could see, but beneath the wooden table where her cuffed hands lay, she was trembling. Her hands were shaking so much that she had to dig her thumbnails into her index fingers just to calm herself.

Amber Banks was on trial for murder. A murder she did not commit.

“All rise! The court is now in session.”

Everyone in the room stood up solemnly.

In walked Judge Rodney, in a plain black robe. It was his last case as a judge before his official retirement and it was also one of the biggest trials of the decade. A CEO of an upcoming startup tech company had been murdered in cold blood.

Judge Rodney raised his hand, signalling for everyone to sit before taking a seat himself. As he sat himself down, his aging back made a little cracking sound. He was getting too old for this and could not wait for the trial to end, but he had a dreaded feeling that the case would drag on for some time. He cleared his throat, “Everyone but the jury may be seated, Bailiff John Deere, please swear in the jury.”

The young bailiff nodded at the judge and turned to the jury of twelve, “Please raise your right hands. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will truly listen to this case and render a true verdict and a fair sentence as to this defendant?”

The members of the jury looked at Amber, who sat seemingly emotionless at the Counsel’s table. Her expression was unreadable.

In a resounding voice, every member of the jury replied, “Yes I do.”

Amber swallowed hard. There was no way out now. This was the end of the road for her.

Judge Rodney began, “Members of the jury, your duty today will be to determine whether the defendant is guilty or not guilty based only on facts and evidence provided in this case. The prosecution has the burden of proving the guilt of the defendant beyond a reasonable doubt. This burden remains on the prosecution through the trial. The prosecution must prove that a crime was committed and that the defendant is the person who committed the crime. However, if you are not satisfied with the defendant’s guilt to that extent, then reasonable doubt exists and the defendant must be found not guilty.”

“Bailiff John Deere, what is today’s case?”

Bailiff John Deere who remained standing replied, “Your Honor, today’s case is the State of California versus Amber Banks.”

The case had shocked the nation, no one understood how a young woman such as Amber could have ended the life of a healthy, well-built man and come out unscathed. 

The judge peered at the prosecutor through his rimless spectacle, “Is the prosecution ready?”

“Yes, your Honor.”

Then he looked over to the defence attorney, “Is the defence ready?”

The defence attorney looked at Amber, but she did not meet his gaze. Instead, she remained still as a statue in her chair. The attorney shook his head a little, his client wasn’t even putting up a fight to claim her innocence – but just before he could reply to the judge, the double panelled door of the courtroom burst open with a bang, catching everyone by surprise.

“STOP!”

A man charged in, shouting frantically as two court officers jumped into action to restrain him.

At the sight of the man, Amber’s eyes fluttered wide in shock as her mouth formed an ‘O’. She stood up and for a brief moment, her eyes met the man’s as he struggled to free himself from the grasp of the officers.

 “I killed him! It was me! I killed him!”

***

TWO MONTHS AGO

“Now don’t you look pretty as a pie hon,” Madam Cecil smiled, her bright red lips curling all the way up the corners of her heavily painted eyes. She placed her hands on Amber’s slender shoulders and twirled her around.

“Sure, you don’t want to consider working as a hostess here? We pay our girls very well, “Madam Cecil made sure to emphasize the word ‘very’ as she mentally undressed Amber who stood uncomfortably in front of her.

Amber Banks was a beauty, but she did not know it. She had grown up far too immersed in bringing food to the table to care for such things. When she was fourteen, both her parents died in a car crash and she and her brother were left in the care of a distant relative who gave them neither love nor shelter. They were left to fend for themselves.

Her brother was only eleven then, but Amber could see that he was more academically inclined than she, so she dropped out of school to work full time, often juggling between three to four jobs a day just to make sure that her brother, Anson got the education he deserved.

And now at the age of twenty-one, her hard work paid off. Anson had just graduated from high school and was recently offered a spot at Stanford University. But everything came at a price, his admission to the prestigious university meant that she would have to triple her earnings.

A customer at the bakery where she worked had suggested for her to try out a waitressing position at the La Fire Club – it was THE hottest and poshest club in the whole of California, catering only to VIPs.

“They pay so well you’ll even be able to put yourself through school!” the customer had gushed.

So here she was, standing uncomfortably in a simple light blue blouse and mommy jeans under the scrutinizing gaze of the head hostess who circled her like an eagle. She clasped her hands and dug her thumb into her palm tightly as Madam Cecil pulled off Amber’s scrunchie, letting her red curls loose. Her natural and soft wavy locks tumbled down past her shoulders, highlighting her fair complexion even more just to hang slightly above her tiny waistline.

They stood in a brightly lit dressing room surrounded by rows upon rows of vanity tables. A few scantily clad women were on sitting on fluffy white stools putting on what looked to Amber like too much makeup. The place reeked of heavily scented perfume too, and it was starting to give Amber a headache. Perhaps she should not have come, but she needed the money.

She shook her head politely and gave a timid smile, “I’m here for the waitressing position ma’am.”

“Cecil.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I mean Cecil,” she squeaked slightly. The older woman, though still seductively gorgeous, had an awfully intimating stare.

“You have a beautiful voice too, like milk flowing on honey,” Cecil complimented her.

That sounds like my cornflakes, Amber thought with a frown as she lowered her head. Why is she comparing my voice to food?

Cecil stepped even closer and lifted Amber’s oval face by her dainty chin, “Heads up young lady, be proud of the bountiful blessings that Aphrodite has gifted you.”

Huh? Amber was confused.

Cecil eyed Amber’s face as she traced her soft full lips, “Mmmm…good for kissing too.”

At this, Amber recoiled from Cecil’s grasp, “I’m sorry?”

Cecil laughed and some of the girls in the room stopped to stare, curious as to what was happening.

Cecil waved her hand in the air, “Nothing darling. Alright, I won’t force you. You can start waitressing tonight. Our shift starts from ten to three. We pay thirty per hour.”

Amber’s eyes opened wide. Thirty?! She’d have to work five bone-breaking hours at the bakery just to get THAT amount.

Cecil could see the awe in Amber’s innocent face. She smiled, “We pay a hundred per hour for hostesses…”

A hundred! Amber could feel her heart racing as her breathing became more rapid. That would be easy money. With that kind of money, she wouldn’t have to work so many jobs a day!

“And our girls get tips for extra services.” A wink from the woman sent a chill down Amber’s spine and the image of a hundred dollars disappeared in a poof. She knew exactly what the ‘extra services’ were.

And as much as she needed the money, she could never, no she would never sell her own body and dignity.

I’d die before I let any man touch me, she thought to herself.