The Trial by Hankster

The Trial
by: Hankster

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The thirty-something, very undistinguished looking gentleman, was waiting to be called to the witness stand. Nevertheless, when he heard his name called, he was startled, and he jumped out of his seat. Against his attorney’s advice, he had elected to testify in his own defense.

Now that he had actually been called, his life seemed to collapse around him. All his energy was sapped, and he could barely struggle with his body in its effort to walk to the witness stand. It took a monumental effort to step up onto the raised platform, swivel the chair around, and take a seat. No sooner did he sit down, then the bailiff asked him to stand again while he administered the oath. That took another major effort.

He heard the bailiff’s voice. “State your name for the records please.”

“My name is Harold Hampton.”

Finally he was seated and ready for whatever would come. He took a deep breath and glanced furtively at the female judge, who was shuffling through some papers. He couldn’t help wonder if a male judge would be more sympathetic.

He heard his attorney’s voice. “Did you kill your wife, Mr. Hampton?” He was taken by surprise. He had expected the question, but not so quickly, and not right at the beginning of his testimony. He gasped and tried to regain his composure.

“Yes sir. I killed her while I was trying to defend myself. It was an accident.”

“You say you accidently killed her while trying to defend yourself?” His attorney made the question sound like he didn’t believe him. Whose side was he on anyway? “That’s very interesting, Mr. Hampton. I would like you to tell the court the circumstances which led up to this accidental death. But before you do, I would like to introduce two pictures into evidence.” He glanced at the judge. “One picture was taken at Mr. Hampton’s wedding, and the other was taken two months before Iris Hampton’s death.”

The prosecution objected. It was expected that they would object to every motion presented by the defense. The defense had done the same to the prosecution.

“Where are you going with this, Mr. Jancowski?” the judge asked.

“I’d like to show the jury that Mrs. Hampton had put on tons of weight since her wedding, and was perfectly capable of being physically abusive to her husband. He weighed less than half of what she did at the time of her death.”

“Overruled,” she informed the prosecutor, “Let me see the pictures.” Iris was a wisp of a thing in the wedding picture, and a big fat sloppily dressed woman in the second picture. The judge was slim and pretty, and Harold could actually see her wince when she looked at the second picture. She instructed the bailiff to show the pictures to the jury. They had the same reaction the judge had, especially the men. He hoped that weighed in his favor. No pun intended.

The judge nodded her head at Mr. Jancowski.

“OK.” He said to Harry. “Tell us the circumstances of your wife’s accidental death.”

Harry sat back in his chair, and allowed himself to relax for the first time since his trial began. Until now all the witnesses had testified against him, especially Iris’s family. They asserted that he completely ignored his ailing wife, and let her shift for herself, even though she was bed ridden. Now he had his moment in court.

His mind quickly reviewed the years from the happy youth he was when he met Iris, to the miserable human being he had become throughout their years of marriage. He began to edit his life, trying to figure out what was appropriate to reveal to the jury in order to gain their sympathy, and what events he should leave out.

**********

Harry Hampton was a true cellophane man. He grew to be a skinny, 5’8”, brown haired, brown eyed, weak chinned man. He wasn’t bad looking, but he didn’t have a face that would make anyone look twice either. He went through high school with a C+ grade average, and did not participate in any after school activities. A few girls caught his eye, but when he got up the courage to ask for a date, they turned him down. After awhile, he just stopped asking.

Harry had one really close friend, Jimmy Potter, who was just as non distinct as Harry was. Like Harry he wasn’t bad looking, but he just didn’t have any charisma, nor would he demand any attention. He was an inch taller than Harry. His hair was a shade lighter than Harry’s hair, and his eyes were a dark blue. His luck with the ladies was just as bad as Harry’s was.

Halfway through high school, Harry and Jimmy concluded that they would never get laid unless they were lucky enough to find a girl who would marry them. By that time their hormones were raging, and they began to jerk off together. In no time at all they were fondling each other and whacking each other off. That led to experimenting with oral sex and eventually anal sex. They began to indulge in homosexual activity as often as they could, and they continued it into college, where they were room mates. To be fair, neither of the two boys considered the possibility that they might be gay. They were merely using each other for gratification, but only until the “real thing” came along, that is to say, the right girl.

In college, both boys filled out, grew to their adult heights, and spent some dollars on stylish haircuts and stylish tight fitting jeans. Girls actually began to talk to them.

Jimmy was the first to stop wanting gay sex. He started dating a freshman co-ed when he was a junior. She was kind of cute, but more importantly she put out, and a lot. She wanted even more sex than Jimmy could give her, but he managed to keep up with her by definitely excluding Harry from his love life. It wasn’t long before they were talking about marriage.

Harry met Iris in his senior year at a party in the student union. She had just come to the university to do graduate work in nursing. She was just under a year older than Harry. She wasn’t pretty, but she was exuberant and perky. Her bubbly personality overwhelmed Harry. He was unprepared for her aggressiveness toward wanting to have sex with him, and he foolishly mistook her for the “real thing.”

They were married after Iris got her MS in nursing. Harry was already working in the accounting department of a large manufacturing company. Iris got a job at a nearby teaching hospital as a nursing supervisor and trainer. Between them, they made a very good living, and their life style was free and easy. They had fun together and life was good. In spite of it all, Harry often longed for the sex he had with Jimmy. He sometimes pretended Iris was Jimmy when they were making love. He wondered if Jimmy had the same feelings, but he would never ask.

The change in Iris took place slowly over the first five years of their marriage. At first Harry didn’t even notice it. One morning when they were dressing, Iris was having trouble with a zipper. She asked Harry to zip her up. He struggled, and suddenly the zipper ripped away from her nurse’s uniform. Harry realized that Iris was putting on weight. She always had a better appetite than he did, and she always ate more than he did, but he marveled that she never gained weight. That seemed suddenly to be changing. For a moment Harry was elated. Maybe she was pregnant. That thought evaporated quickly. Suddenly Iris began to yell at him. It was uncharacteristic for her to raise her voice or use profanity, but she did.

“Fucking idiot! Fucking oaf! You ripped my favorite uniform. Can’t you do anything right?” Harry stood looking at her dumbfounded. Unused to such awful behavior from her, and not knowing what to do, he finished dressing and left the house. He decided that he would have breakfast at a Burger King near his office that morning until Iris simmered down a bit. After Harry left, Iris went into her closet and found a white wrap around dress that wasn’t even a uniform. Nonetheless she wore it to work that day.

She never did simmer down. She was gaining weight rapidly, and she knew it. Instead of getting a hold of her unhealthy eating habits, she ate more and more of her fatty junk foods. The unhappier she became, the more she ate. She was never without a bag of junk food in her hand.

She blamed Harry for all her misery. Their sex life slowed to a crawl, and at some point, when Iris’s weight exceeded 250 pounds, Harry wouldn’t have slept with her if he could. The sweat built up between the folds of her skin and she always smelled foul, no matter if she had just showered. She took up so much of their bed that Harry finally moved into the guest bedroom. He whacked off almost every night dreaming of Jimmy.

Their once tranquil home became a battle zone. From the minute they got home from work, she blamed him for all her miseries. Everything was his fault. Harry became the chief cook and bottle washer. Iris was just too fat to do anything around the house. Eventually she lost her job. Now, in addition to working all day, Harry had to wait on Iris hand and foot, prepare their meals and clean the house. All the while he heard her on the phone complaining to her mother what a useless oaf he was. Harry didn’t know what road to turn up next, until fate intervened.

His boss wanted to hire a new assistant for Harry. The business was growing fast, and Harry was growing with it. He was now the manager of the finance department. Estefan Lopez, a drop dead gorgeous Latino, had been working for the city in the audit department. His pay was low and his job was a dead end rut. He was looking for a better opportunity. He was only four years younger than Harry, and Harry’s heart almost stopped beating during the interview. In fact, at one point, Harry lost some of his pent up restraint, when at the end of the interview, Estefan said, “Look sir, I’m gay, and if that’s an issue, I’ll leave right now. I want to be open and above board about it so we won’t have any problems down the pike.”

Harry only hesitated for an instant. He winked at Estefan and said, “That’s no issue at all. The job is yours. He left Estefan wondering about the wink. They shook hands on their new relationship and Estefan said, “Everybody calls me Steve, Mr. Hampton.

“Everybody calls me Harry, Steve.”

Harry could not bear going home after work, and he found excuses to work late with Steve. Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. They even began having dinner together after work. When Harry got home and Iris ranted for hours about how he didn’t give a shit for her, he just kept silent. At some point, Iris usually passed out from booze, and eventually Harry went to bed with her vile words ringing in his ears.

One night at dinner, Harry told Steve about his life with Iris and how miserable he was. Steve put his hand on Harry’s in sympathy. An electric shock went through Harry’s body. He got bolder. “I was homosexual all through high school and most of college,” he blurted out. He stared at Steve and waited for a reaction.

Steve closed his hand tighter on Harry’s. “I thought so,” he said. “I’ve always felt you were a gay man crying to come out. I’m really glad about it Harry, because I’m very fond of you.” He squeezed tighter. “It would be great if you came home with me tonight.”

Harry never thought of Iris once as he and Steve made love. He couldn’t believe how good Steve’s cum tasted. He had never liked Jimmy’s jism much. He stayed as long as he could and reluctantly left at midnight. He went into Iris’s room to check on her. She was snoring away, and the stench of wine on her breath was unmistakable.

Next morning she resumed her tirade. She called him an inconsiderate son of a bitch, because she had to make her own dinner, and he certainly knew how hard it was for her to get out of bed. When she demanded to know what time he came home, he said that he came home early, but she was sound asleep. He told her that he cleaned the dishes and went right to bed. As he left for work, her final words were, “You never think about me, just yourself, you selfish bastard. You better get home in time to make me dinner tonight.”

Nice, he thought. Her bedside table was fully stocked with junk food, designed to last more than one month for a normal person. Harry thought, it’ll be gone by noon.

The next day at work, Harry and Steve acted like nothing had happened between them, but about ten o’clock Harry went to the men’s room. Steve followed him in. He locked the door behind him and grabbed Harry’s crotch. Harry moaned as the two men kissed passionately. Then they peed and went back to their desks.

After that, Harry spent as much time with Steve as he could. There was no denying how much they loved each other. Steve kept pressuring Harry to leave Iris and move in with him. He kept pointing out that if Harry wasn’t around, she would get out of bed and fend for herself. It might be the best thing that could happen for her. Still Harry wasn’t convinced, and he continued to take all her abuse. At the same time he could overhear her on the phone telling anyone who would listen, that he never did a thing for her.

The final straw came one night when Harry was sound asleep in the guest bedroom. Iris threw open his door, and all four hundred pounds of her (or more) waddled in. She was naked, drunk, and she had a wine bottle in her hand. She placed the bottle on the dresser and fell on top of him. That woke him up quick enough.

“Fuck me,” she demanded.

Harry was appalled. She smelled of sweat and booze. He could also smell the foul, fishy odor of her pussy. Even though his stomach was empty, he started to heave.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” he yelled. Iris rolled over slightly, enough to release him. He ran to the bathroom and locked the door. He managed not to barf, but he had to rinse his mouth with a mouthwash to get rid of the taste of his own bile.

He stayed there a very long time, but he knew that eventually he would have to come out. When he did, Iris was snoring away in his bed. He started to hyperventilate. He knew that he had to get out of there in order to save his life.

**********

“What happened next?” Mr. Jancowski asked.

“There was a small suitcase under the bed. I grabbed it and just started filling it up with a few things. Suddenly Iris yelled at me, what are you doing?

“I’m getting out of here, I sobbed. Iris jumped out of bed. It was the fastest I’d seen her move in years. She ran out of the room. Seconds later, I felt her full weight on me. I could barely breathe. She rolled me onto my back, and I could see a kitchen knife coming at me, straight at my throat.”

“What did you do next?” Jancowski interrupted.

“I reached up and grabbed her wrist. I was able to slow the descent of the knife, but not stop it altogether. She was just too strong, and I was having trouble breathing. Somehow I mustered all my strength and twisted her wrist. The knife was now aimed at her neck. I was running out of breath. With my last bit of strength I pushed up against her, trying to get a breath of air. As I did that, she seemed to lose her balance. She tried to weigh down heavier on me, and I pushed up harder. She was very drunk and unsteady, and somehow her head fell into the knife.”

Jancowski waited a long time before speaking. The court room was silent. The jurors were trying to gauge the truth of what Harry had just sworn to. Harry prayed that they had a clear picture of a 400 pound Iris lying on top of his 150 pounds.

“I have no further questions,” he said, and sat down.

The prosecutor approached the witness stand. He stood half facing the witness and half facing the jury.

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Hampton, that you are homosexual?” he asked abruptly. Harry was stunned. He and Steve, and before that, he and Jimmy, had been very discreet. He knows nothing, and is just trying to trap me, Harry thought.

Harry still didn’t think of himself as gay, and he answered, “No, I am not. You’ve seen her picture, sir. Don’t you agree that she could have turned any man gay?”

The jurors roared with laughter. The prosecutor was not amused. “Isn’t it true that you murdered your wife to be with a male lover?”

“No, it’s not true. It happened just like I said,” Harry mumbled with a sob in his voice. “If you want to know if she made my life a living hell, the answer is yes. But if you want to know if I planned to murder her, the answer is a resounding NO!” Harry looked at the jury. “No!” he repeated. The jury believed him and the prosecutor knew it. He asked a dozen inane questions, but he couldn’t shake Harry’s story one iota. He finally looked at the judge and said. “I have no further questions for this pervert.”

Jancowski objected, and the remark was stricken from the records, but it was enough to incense a good part of the jury. The prosecutor had just cooked his own goose.

Mr. Prior,” the judge fumed. “I will not permit that kind of talk in my court room.”

“Yes, your honor. I apologize.”

Mr. Jancowski then called a police forensic expert to the stand. He testified that the only finger prints found on the knife were Iris Hampton’s. This was consistent with Harry’s story that he never touched the knife. You could tell in cross examination that Mr. Prior had lost his steam.

“Could Mr. Hampton have wiped his prints off the knife and left only Mrs. Hamptons?” he asked limply.

The forensic expert actually started to laugh. “That would have been impossible without wiping off her prints as well. Besides, when the body was found she was gripping the knife so strongly, we had to pry it out of her hand. The defendant would have found it impossible to wrap her hand around the knife so tightly after her death.”

Jancowski also called several character witnesses including Steve. Mr. Prior started to ask Steve if he was gay, but Jancowski objected, and the judge warned him “for the last time” that his question was inappropriate. His cross examination was tepid. All Steve had testified was that Harry was a kind and caring boss, and kept his home life to himself, never discussing it at work. There was little Prior could do to break down his evaluation about his boss.

The defense rested. Closing statements were made, and the jury began its deliberation. It took them less than two hours to bring in a verdict of not guilty.

Harry was in his own home that very night. In the front hall he found a basket with several bottles of wine and champagne. The accompanying note read: Congratulations. We never doubted you. Take a few days off and come back to the office when you are ready. We need you. Best regards, John F. Manning. John was the company’s CEO.

Steve had arranged to have the bedroom cleaned of all the gory blood stains. He also had it repainted and recarpeted. Nobody could tell that anything so horrible had occurred here. The room was decorated with Steve’s taste. After all, when a decent time would pass, he intended to move in with Harry.

**********

He dressed silently and ran out. He drove directly to Steve’s apartment. It took a few minutes for his persistent knocking to wake up Steve. It took no longer to tell Steve what had happened.

“You left her in a drunken stupor?” Steve asked.

“As usual!” Harry said rolling his eyes. “I could go back in the morning. She won’t even know that I’m gone.”

“No,” Steve said. “We’re going back now. I’ll follow you in my car, but I’ll park a block away. Leave the front door open for me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.”

They entered Harry’s house silently and went into the kitchen. Steve put on a pair of rubber gloves that he had brought with him. He asked Harry where he kept the knives, and he removed a serrated steak knife.

They crept into Harry’s bedroom. Iris was snoring away nearly at the edge of the bed. She was practically comatose. Steve got behind her and pushed her off the bed. She landed on the floor, awakened for a second, and fell asleep again. Steve placed the knife in her hand, wrapped her fist around it. Strangely, she took a strong grip on it. Holding her wrist, he plunged the knife into her throat.

Harry watched the whole scene. He was aghast and frozen in place, yet he approved. Steve told him to lie on the floor. It was difficult, but he got Iris’s body on top of Harry.

“Now wiggle her off of you. Give me five minutes to get on the road, and call the police. This is what you are going to tell them.” He laid out the whole scenario. Then he took the suitcase from under the bed and put a few of Harry’s items in it. Harry lay sobbing beside the body. He was scared to death. He waited ten minutes before he called the police.

**********

Some people might complain that Harry and Steve got away with murder. Even though stories aren’t supposed to end that way, just imagine how many people get away with murder every day.

Anyway, for what it’s worth, Iris’s murder was justifiable in my eyes. Think about it. If a person chooses to ruin and waste away her life, why should she be allowed to ruin the lives of everyone around her? It just isn’t fair. In my opinion, justice was served.

Posted: 10/14/11