Chapter Seventy three
From somewhere down the street, a very shocking crowd of people were marching towards us, a good number lifting placards or banners of images high amidst their screams. The first person I caught sight of was Jade, in all her youthful hyperactivity, leading the movement and fueling the rest whenever she yelled.
When she did it once more, the words were presently distinct and very much audible. "Free Jeffery Thompson!"
And I had to shut my eyes to prevent the emotion I felt to overpower me. Around me, I could hear murmurs of ever sort from inmates, most of which expressed shock at the sudden protest.
Deeper within the crowd, the little kids had their own little placards raised, plastering excited little smiles on their faces as they shrieked things certainly out of topic.
The sight brought a smile to my face though. Pictures of me were raised above so all eyes could see. A very few residences were set around the prison. And now, the people in them were peeping out their homes to survey the source of the noise. Several just grinned and watched it happen, a few other actually yelled along.
"Free Jeffery Thompson," their cried over and over, their strides growing even faster and their actions more active. The kids shrieked more happily and the grown men waved their banners with much more strength.
A beautiful feeling of warmth creeped within me. It took all the self-control I had not to break down in tears. They loved me and pretty much came this far to prove it, despite all I'd done to deserve hatred. I felt like a child once again; happy yet controlled, nostalgic yet still.
Before a long time, there were at the gate, making the environment vibrate and going on with the chants and activity.
The prisoners around me remained still and quiet, probably still trying to fathom the situation that was going on. It made me feel pretty awkward and suddenly insecure; and slowly, I shut my eyes and bowed.
"Free Jeffery Thompson," a voice came from right beside me. Not from the mob outside the gate, I could swear it.
Peeling my eyes open and turning to my side, there was my father standing beside me, a radiant, assuring smile on his face. Soon, he took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "I'm with you, son."
"Free Jeffery Thompson," this one came from Jayden who was some feet behind me.
When I glanced back at him weakly, he nodded, wordlessly, repeating my father's promise.
The roaring from the mob outside increased after these two joined the movement. With my hand in my Dad's, I looked straight at them all again.
Just then, Noah appeared from the side of the large gathering, rolling his chair towards the gate as a path was left for him. Right by his side were Emily and Justin, both as supportive as ever.
"Free Jeffery Thompson," came Alan from somewhere ahead.
My heartbeat was racing by now. A mixture of happiness and raw anxiety that made my skin tingle with sweat.
"Free Jeff!" Myers roared and his own words were applauded by those behind him who in turn repeated his words.
Half a minute of silence later, the last person I had in mind came aboard.
"Free Jeffery Thompson," from Butcher. More murmurs struck the prisoners at his words; none more shocked than I was.
Staring surprisingly at him, all he returned was a solemn glare. However, it seemed his support was all the rest needed.
One after the other, more inmates yelled my freedom, fueling the mob outside even more. When the voices around me got too numerous, I had to turn to my Dad and bury myself in his ready embrace.
***
"That was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen," Noah shook his head and said with a shrug. "Of course we'd planned the protest with the people prior to the day. Never did we expect the prisoners to plead for the freedom of their fellow inmate. It was…the shock of the state."
"The exact thing that accelerated the agreement from the panel of judges." Jade added right after his words.
Leaning out, I braced my elbows upon my knees and watched as words flew from one part of the circle to another. Nostalgic remarks from Justin and Emily, surprised ones from Mrs Harper and Simon, and of course, complementary remarks from Alan.
When I believed they'd expressed themselves quite enough, I went on with the closing of my story. "On the very next day of independence, Cyrus walked me to the Deputy Sheriff's office and had me sit on a chair right beside Deputy Bones. Together, we'd watched the headlines of the news."
After a short chuckle, I dealt with an itch on my face, continuing my words afterwards. "They'd covered the entire protest and aired it on TV, taking in all the minor yet significant details. The emotion, the children, the people! Whoever made that coverage did a pretty good job at it. So good I was invited for a second hearing."
***
The court had not changed a bit from its looks over a year ago; the polished furniture ranged from pews to the witness box and even the floors. The spiking scent of wood in the air distracted me from the faces of the solemn judges all gathered about the round table.
No spectators were needed this time; just myself, the group of people deciding my fate and a few police men.
Strapped in hand cuffs, I remained at the witness box, sniffing in the exotic air that held a boring scent of files and timber. Having bored myself with that for ten minutes now, I settled to study the panel of judges all clothes in the good old fashioned robes and wigs and seated around a rather dramatic oak table.
Each had a company of files before him that stole his attention, although several heads giraffed and clustered to reason together. It seemed they could go on forever with their muttering.
With that thought in mind, I glanced around the empty courtroom and busied myself with inhaling the sweetened air once again
Several minutes later though, they acknowledged my presence.
"Mr Jeffery Thompson," a chubby judge named Attorney Tiffany rose her head to look at me just before the rest followed. "According to the reports…" she continued, "…you ended four lives for supposedly killing your brother, escaped death by a hair breath, found your brother and confessed your crimes."
Was she telling me something I didn't know or just attempting to piss me off? "Yes, ma'am," I answered anyway.
She studied me through her massive spectacles and went on. "Sentenced to life imprisonment, served a year and two months and attempted suicide?"
"Yes, ma'am," I repeated, still struggling to get her point.
"It's obvious you understood your wrongs and came clean so as to be punished," she said. "However, your people have a different views on that and want you out. Any guesses why?"
That was a daunting question.