“He was my drug dealer,” Brent replied, without skipping a beat.
“I see… Except for the fact that your story doesn’t match my client’s description of how you met.”
“He’s lying.”
“I see.” Victor nodded. “What if I offered proof?”
I could see the worry on Brent’s face for just a moment.
“Would you like to hear my proof, Mr. Jacobs?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know someone by the name of Harvey Samson?”
Even from my distance, I could see Brent’s face pale at the name. “No.”
“No?” Victor asked. “Strange… Because he was convicted a few days ago, and he mentioned meeting you several times over the last few years. In fact, he said that the two of you were planning on starting your own business…something to do with drugs?”
“He’s lying,” Brent said immediately. “He’s a liar.”
“You just said you didn’t know him,” Victor said. “How can you know if he’s a liar or not?”
“I… We may have crossed paths…”
“According to Mr. Samson, you did more than just cross paths. You were going into the business of drug dealing together, and you were planning on stealing away customers from the man you used to buy drugs from. Is any this ringing a bell?”
Victor went through a detailed synopsis of what had happened in the last couple of months. Apparently, once Brent and Harvey succeeded in stealing away a few customers from Johnny Devon, he made it his mission to destroy them. It got to a point where Brent had started to get nervous, and he had decided to frame me for the crime so that he wouldn’t be in the line of fire. Of course, he never copped to any of this, but Victor’s questions were well placed and well argued.
Brent’s lawyer objected a few times, but each time his objections were overruled. In the end, I could see realization dawn on Brent: he was going to jail. There was too much evidence against him, and Harvey had given the cops enough information and proof to convict him. I saw his anger start to show on the stand and when his eyes caught mine in a coincidental moment of chance, they blazed with fire.
“He was your friend,” Victor reminded Brent.
“He was never my friend,” Brent shot back. “He liked keeping me around because he felt more ‘respectable’ by comparison. I was his loser friend. I was the pathetic friend who could never hold a job or get his life together. He was the noble firefighter, the brave firefighter. And he thought too much of himself.”
“Apparently, many people do.”
I saw Brent repress the urge to roll his eyes, but Victor continued quickly. “So is that why you framed him? You were jealous?”
“I didn’t frame him,” Brent maintained till the last.
“You were jealous of him, though, weren’t you?” Victor asked. “Was that your motive?”
“I didn’t have a motive because I didn’t frame him.”
“No?” Victor sounded almost amused. “But you were involved in a drug pushing business with Harvey Samson?”
“Phil was in on it, too,” he lied seamlessly.
“Funny, because Harvey never mentioned Phil,” Victor said. “In fact, he mentioned that Phil had nothing to do with your deals, at all.”
“He’s a liar.”
“Or maybe you’re the liar?” Victor suggested.
“Objection!” Brent’s lawyer jumped to his feet, and the motion was sustained.
The judge declared a small break, and half an hour later, we were back in the courtroom, and the jury announced their decision. I was exonerated of all charges and was free to leave, but Brent was sentenced to ten years in jail. With good behavior, I knew he could get out in eight years, but I knew that even eight years was a lifetime in prison years. A part of me pitied him, but I was still too raw and hurt to feel anything more for my former friend.