Verdict

I have a month to vacate the premises.

I need a drink.

I Plead the Fifth

I finished my questioning, or whatever you call it, a little while ago. I was surprised when I got up there how calm I was. My lawyer and I went through all the stuff we worked out beforehand, all the questions carefully phrased so I could tell the truth and it would still sound good.

Then the other guy came up and ripped that shit apart. I held on for a little bit, but I didn't have anything good to say. Did my lawyer really think this was going to work? Her whole case was supposed to prove that even though I hadn't done anything to help anyone, I still cared. Well, it's pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that I don't.

I tried to care for a little while in the middle of his questioning. What the hell, right? I started talking about how I'm gonna miss my house, something that actually matters to me. I thought about all the TV shows and movies I've seen where the guy gets on the stand and makes this great speech, and suddenly everyone agrees with him. Even with all that going through my head, I couldn't make it sound like I give a shit, because I don't. I know I'm gonna lose.

That's it. My contribution to the cause of me having somewhere to live is completed. Take the house. I don't care anymore.

...And On And On...

We're breaking for the day. They don't put me on the stand until tomorrow. I can't believe how long this process is taking. Lawyer lady says she'll make it all right. I just have to sit up there and say my piece. Unlike her, I lack psychotic optimism, and I'm not about to put my faith in her amateur theatrics.

I haven't had to speak in court yet. That's what lawyers are for. Now my case rests on me. I think we all know how this is going to turn out. My voice is gonna crack, I'll break into a cold sweat. I get the worst stage fright. There, I said it. I don't want to do this.

My Second Day in Court

More talking. More people coming through.

One of my parent's friends came in today to give a statement. When we were done, he came over and offered me a place to live. I think he's more realistic about my chances than my lawyer is, especially after what he said in his statement.

I guess he owns a building with a vacancy. It's like the rich people version of crashing on your couch. I don't need his charity.

My Day in Court

Court is worse than I imagined. It's not all big and pretentious like I always see on TV, with the pews and the really tall desk for the judge. I don't even remember her banging her gavel. There's tables and chairs, and the judge sits a little higher than us behind a thing. It's just this room. I think the place should be pretentious and take itself too seriously. This is where they make decisions that are going to change people's lives.

The one cool thing is the stenographer. I spent most of the time checking her out. She was supposed to be transcribing, but it looked like she kept typing even when nobody was talking, so what's up with that? During one of the breaks, I watched her change the ticker-tape that comes out of the machine. It looked like it was in code or braile or something.

I'm even more disappointed with my lawyer now than last week. I thought I was watching a lame community theater version of To Kill a Mockingbird. She reminds me of some girl who took three drama courses in college and thinks she's gonna make it big in showbiz. The guy on the other side isn't much better. He doesn't say much, but as soon as he starts talking, he puts on a big grin. It disappears when he gets distracted or stops talking. I'm not even sure who he's representing.

Most of his arguments are about what a terrible person I am. After an afternoon of hearing that, I'm not just convinced I shouldn't have the house, I think someone should come and take my super powers. My job for now is to say nothing and try not to piss anyone off, but we're not done yet. I have to be there at 9 AM tomorrow. Goddamned legal system.

Final Preparations

I feel like a man who's going to the gallows and nobody wants to tell him. The hearing is spectacle, part of the punishment. Can't they just be honest about what's going on? This is inhumane.

I had a final meeting with my lawyer today before we appear in court on Monday, going over what I need to do and what's going to happen. I think I'm getting to her. All that bullshit optimism seems to be wearing thin. I tried to talk to her honestly about what's going on, but I don't think she speaks that language. I don't know anybody else who would understand what's going on. Maybe The lawyer for the other side.

Right before I left she told me to relax. Now I have the entire weekend to think about what's gonna go wrong.

"What Size Coffin Are You?"

The planning for my case goes on around me. The lawyer has me posing for pictures. I tried to tell her it's not what you do after you get caught that matters. She doesn't listen. My opinion on legal matters is worth nothing, apparently. I'll pose for the pictures, but I won't smile.

I can't decide whether I want to be inside the house or outside. It's raining pretty hard today, and that suits my mood fine. I actually feel trapped in here, which is strange because I'm fighting to keep living here. I should spend as much time in here as I can, right? While I still have it.

Every day that goes by makes me more anxious, and nothing makes me anxious like anxiety. It's a good thing the case is soon because I can't take this anymore.