Hail, everyone! This being my first foray into the CEC as a writer, I hope that I'm able to compete with you prolific composers. Hope you enjoy!
* * *
Chronicles of a President
Chapter One
As the defense attorney finished spinning an intricate web, like a spider putting the final touches on a tantalizingly beautiful net of silk, her client, Antonio Salvarez, glared resentfully across the aisle, towards the executive assistant District Attorney, Jacob Litofsky. The man- he could be not considered young, as Litofsky was nearing thirty years of age- sat upright in his chair, paying the attention and respect deserved to his opponent. His dark brown hair and matching eyes studied his adversary eagerly, attempting to discern and chink in her mail, any error in her seemingly flawless closing statement.
To Litofsky, every case was a new match in which to test his abilities; each new case was a chance to see what he was capable of. Turning his ear back to his current opposition, the ADA took careful note of her words, formulating his to-be extemporized closing. “The truth of the matter, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is that the District Attorney’s office has devolved into one that abuses its governmental power, utilizing cheap and dirty tricks to coerce Mr. Salvarez’s friends and family into testifying against him. Any and all traces of honor have been exterminated by Mr. Litofsky and his leash-holder, the DA.” At this point, the defense attorney drew near to the jury box, leaning closer to the jurors and nearly whispering. “I have serious doubts about the validity of the DA’s claims.” Then, standing up, “And you should, too.”
Taking note that his time had come, the attorney stood up, buttoned one of his suit’s metal buttons, and began sauntering about in the middle of the spacious courtroom, all the while directing his comments at the men and women deciding the outcome of his hard-fought case. “Our legal system,” he began, “is the foundation of America, without which we would have crumbled long ago, and our legacy as a country would have faded into dust. However, the citizens of our great Union, ever since the beginning of our history, have been called upon not to serve our country in the armed services, but on the front line, here, at home. In my time as a public servant,” Litofsky continued, turning to face the jury, “you have never let me down.”
Halting, he let the weight of his statement sink in before persisting with his speech. “‘Never let me down…’ What does that mean, you might ask? It means,” –the ADA allowed the drama to flow forth into his voice- “that you have a duty to serve your fellow citizens. What kind of duty would you be doing to your children, your wife, your husband if you let this man, Antonio Salvarez, who committed cold, premeditated murder walk away?
"Imagine for a moment a time just one week in the future- a jury, much like yourselves, is sitting in this very box. Now, continuing on with this thought, imagine if they acquit a murderer, much like Mr. Salvarez? And, now imagine that this happens again, another week in the future. What would happen to our society, our very culture, if we not only do not punish murder, but condone it? Not convicting this man is not an option, ladies and gentlemen. The only logical option, my fellow Philadelphians, is to not only find this man guilty of murder, one of the most heinous crimes any singular person can commit, but give him the ultimate punishment: an eye for an eye, a life for a life.”
Pausing once more, Litofsky stepped away from the jury he had walked over to, once more allowing his suggestions to penetrate the web of lies the defense lawyer had so eloquently but oh so ironically fabricated. To the jury members, he hoped it was like a beam of light piercing a menacing shadow, allowing the hidden to be exposed for what it really was.
“I ask not for retribution from the state, but justice for the family of Ms. Wugu, whose daughter’s life was unjustly taken from them.” Then, leaning closer for the deathblow, “I hope that you convict this murderer for what he truly is, and not believe the facade that his attorney has painted for you.”
Walking back to his designated seat, Litofsky ignored the glacial glower from the defendant, instead focusing on the individual juror. Instead, he was surprised to see that each juror kept their heads down. Their gazes- for the ADA could see their faces, but not their eyes- were solemn, serious, and, overall, deathly pale. As well they should be, for they were weighing the value of their lives versus that of countless others.
* * *
Taking the note from the bailiff gingerly, the portly judge unfolded the envelope, read the paper inside, and nodded somberly. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”
A tall, sickly man stood up, his balding head reflecting a mixture of perspiration, the court’s lights, and overall fear. “Y-yes, your Honor. We the jury find the defendant Antonio Salvarez, guilty, on the count of murder in the first degree.”
The ADA leaned his head back, a wave of relief rolling over his berated being: he had achieved one small victory, one glimmer of hope in a sea of despair and despondency. To Litofsky, this epitomized the very reason he had gone to law school, despite his parent's vehement protests. Not only was it the sense of bliss, of release that followed the victory of a case, but to him, the simple joy of knowing that he had saved countless others by jailing the leader of the most destructive gang on the East Coast.
Hurray, and welcome to the CEC! :D
I keep picturing Litofsky as a Siberian tiger in a suit;p Anyway, don't mind me, for it is a good read:) Your descriptions are lovely, and our dear ADA seems like an impressive legal eagle :lol: As Sabre said, I've never seen a law/politics story in here, so double kudos for originality. It's a bite-sized intro, but I can haz moar? kthxbai!
There's a few minor errors, e.g. high-priced lawyer ( a little awkward), justice from the family (should be for), amidst his parents' protests (not really wrong, but I feel that there are others words more suited to the context).
I wonder whether the gang wil retaliate, and if/when Litofsky (the lawyer, not tiger :p) becomes president )assumption based on title). I shall be watching this!
I love your writing style, Litofsky! Very good balance between reality and descriptions. Breaking up your paragraphs a little would help though: as I mentioned in another post, it's kind of tedious to read thick paragraphs on a computer screen. :D Also, a little clarity could do wonders to an already great style.
Thanks for the suggestions and compliments, Sabre. :) I'll separate the paragraphs into more manageable bits. Clarity in what areas, by the way? Is it just in general, or in a few specific spots?
I'll salute you for an original topic in the CEC, I don't think I've read a political/legal fic in here before. Can't comment as much as I'd like, since this seems to be an opener, and the real meat of the story is yet to come. ;) Looking forward to this one, Litofsky!
Well, I've got some ideas for the upcoming chapters, so hopefully I'll be able to expand on the character and the current state of the nation (major factors in his decisions/choices). Thanks again, Sabre! I'm glad that you enjoyed it.
I keep picturing Litofsky as a Siberian tiger in a suit;p Anyway, don't mind me, for it is a good read:) Your descriptions are lovely, and our dear ADA seems like an impressive legal eagle :lol: As Sabre said, I've never seen a law/politics story in here, so double kudos for originality. It's a bite-sized intro, but I can haz moar? kthxbai!
You can haz moar, Bee! Thanks for your compliments, but, sorry to break your illusion, Litofsky is a human in a suit, and not a cuddly Siberian tiger. :xp:
There's a few minor errors, e.g. high-priced lawyer ( a little awkward), justice from the family (should be for), amidst his parents' protests (not really wrong, but I feel that there are others words more suited to the context).
Thanks for pointing those out- I'll fix them ASAP. I tried to untangle a few of the knots I weave during my initial writing, but I guess that a few slipped by.
I wonder whether the gang wil retaliate, and if/when Litofsky (the lawyer, not tiger :p) becomes president )assumption based on title). I shall be watching this!
The next chapter will explain all, dear Bee! I've got the basis for the next few parts in my mind, and I have but to expand upon them (and get them down on paper :p).
Thanks again for the support, guys! The next chapter should be coming soon (I don't have any tests tomorrow, and relatively little homework, so I should be able to start/finish one).
Hail! This chapter took a while to get out (my teachers would rather my spend my time on homework than writing :p), and I don't think it's the best it could have been, but it is, more or less, meant to be a stepping stone between the opening chapter and the upcoming chapters.
I hope you enjoy:
Chapter Two
The state penitentiary was dusty, dark, and all around gloomy. Its inhabitants moved with a calculated lethargy, and the guards shifted on their feet, seemingly nervous. The few barred windows that allowed the slightest glimpse to the outside world also allowed precious few distorted beams of light to pierce the grimy prison. This desolate place was the home of the hardest, most despicable criminals in the state of Pennsylvania, and currently, the DA’s office had sent out an emissary to resolve a longstanding issue.
Executive ADA Litofsky and his compatriot, assistant District Attorney Harper, were currently passing through their second set of metal detectors. The pair of attorneys crossed through without incident and continued their descent- or what felt like a descent- into a series of tunnels, twists, and curves that put to shame the Labyrinth under Knossos. As the two continued their trek, Harper saw it fit to strike up conversation.
“Jake, what’s the point of all this? You have your verdict already- Salvarez won’t live to see another month. McKey’s got his win, so why should he send us down here to negotiate? We’ve got more important crimes to be trying, rather than chat with an inmate on Death Row!”
Litofsky turned right into a dimly lit corridor, shrugged, and then spoke. “It’s pure politics, Megan. The Black Widows are the single most destructive gang in the Union. On the East Coast, we've trace thirty five percent of murders back to them! The DEA suspects that if Salvarez’s gang were to collapse, drug sales would decrease by a minimum of twenty percent.”
The corridor ending, Litofsky and Harper entered the maximum security portion of the facility, a clean, nearly antiseptic environment that was distinguished from the rest of the prison by its cleanliness. Essentially a large hallway of individual cells, this portion of the prison was the most dangerous, partly due to the fact that guards with submachine guns were posted throughout said corridor, and partly due to the fact that the most heinous criminals from the entire country were sent here: serial killers, serial rapists, and so many more deplorable, loathsome men were accrued here in an effort to rid society of the never-ending dilemma of crime.
Turning the interrogation room, the first door on the right hand side of the hallway, Litofsky stopped. “Our goal, Megan, is to create an insatiable vacuum that will consume the Widows both internally and externally.”
Resting his hand on the knob of the door, the executive ADA Litofsky paused, took a deep, full breath of the prison-air, and entered the room, ignoring the hostile gaze of the condemned man. Walking to the only other available chair, the eyes of each men locked, fighting a fierce, fiery battle in the course of a few milliseconds. Litofsky overpowered the condemned man's pitiful attempt to defend his true feelings, and, for a brief moment, the ADA realized just how desperate his opponent was.
"So, Mr. Salvarez, how's your life going?"
The gang leader snorted and rolled his eyes. "Short." Leaning back in his chair, the inmate shook his head, throwing his messy, dirty blond hair out of his eyes. "What does the DA's office want with me? I've only got one month left to live, thanks to you, and I'd like to spend it the way I want."
"It doesn't have to be like that. You know that as well as I do, Mr. Salvarez." Standing up, Litofsky crossed his arms, leaned against the wall opposite the Widow's leader, and spoke again, this time softer than before. "Before the jury's decision came back, District Attorney McKey and I offered you a deal. We promised, with one hundred percent certainty, to take the death penalty off of the table, if you would give us the name of your lieutenants and any other major source of information." Pushing off the wall and breaking eye contact, the ADA noted "That deal still stands, for your information."
There was not a moment’s hesitation in the convicted man's response. His eyes- normally shallow and lacking the serious quality that epitomized many lawyers- now burnt with a fiery passion that threatened to blind Litofsky he if looked into them for too long. "Look here, you stupid lawyer. The Widows have been there for me when your system failed. They took me in after my parents were killed by cops, and they were there for me after my brother...
"There is no way in hell that I'll turn on them, got that?" Salvarez queried, jabbing an accusing, bony finger at the ADA. "They're my family."
Sitting back down in the now-uncomfortable chair, Litofsky pushed back at the middle-aged man. "You're a smart man, Mr. Salvarez. You became the leader of the most prominent gang on the East Coast within just five years of joining. Think logically, for goodness' sake! Your lieutenants are some of America's greatest scum, and from what we've seen, they would take this offer and run with it, if they had the chance. Why would you risk your life to save theirs?"
Salvarez dropped his head. "They're my family."
"But you're not their family, Antonio. And that's what counts." Reaching into his jacket, Litofsky procured a small yellow notepad and a pen and slid them across the table.
Antonio Salvarez spoke calmly, as though the inevitable he had long foreseen had finally come to pass. A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on the notepad. The dark splotch stained the paper, its tendrils slowing their conquests as the water dispersed and evened out.
"God forgive me." Picking up the pen, the Widow's leader began to write. For the first time in years, he felt genuinely happy, and that scared him to the core of his being.
* * *
A decent-sized restaurant, Philly's Place served good food at moderate prices, which made it a hub for both business entrepreneurs, families dining out, and, in this case, the District Attorney and his executive ADA. Even better for the two, the DA's office was not a block away, making this shop a common lunch and dinner spot for many of the DA's lackeys.
Jacob Litofsky turned his fork over, scrutinizing a piece of lettuce. This particular leaf of lettuce was plump, green, and, when coupled with the red grape tomatoes, seasoned salmon, and assorted cheeses ranging from bright yellow to a dull orange, was quite delicious.
To Litofsky's right, a decanter of some obscure red wine sat, it's crystal playing tricks with the light by means of refraction and reflection, casting various shades of purple and red about the table. Two flickering candles accounted for the round table's centerpiece, their orange-yellow tips glowing and illuminating the dark around them (for, you see, this restaurant was illuminated by naught but candles).
Wiping his mouth with a cheap paper napkin, the DA poked at his steak. It was cold and hard now, or so it felt under the examination of his fork. Feeling the need to congratulate his executive ADA, sitting opposite him, McKey cleared his throat with a soft cough, then spoke. "You did a great thing for the people of this country, Jake."
Litofsky continued poking at his salmon salad, carefully avoiding piercing anything with his metal utensil. "What I did, Jack, was my job. Nothing more."
The DA sighed, pushing back from the table with both hands. "What you did, Litofsky, was give these people hope!" McKey gesticulated towards the city, emphasizing his point. "We're still recovering from the worst crisis that the world has ever seen. Federal governments are underpowered, local governments are underfunded, politicians are working against the people, and gangs rule the streets! Are you telling me that you've got no clue what you did tonight?"
Truthfully, Litofsky knew exactly what his employer was speaking of- he just disliked the attention. Picking at a piece of fish, and, satisfied that it was no longer edible, the junior of the two men responded to the senior. "I'm not an idiot, McKey. I just don't think what I did was newsworthy."
The District Attorney began to speak, but caught his words as they were leaving his mouth. Instead, the lawyer motioned to a waiter passing by, and requested that he change the channel to a major news channel (for what would a restaurant be without a television?). Moments later, the confident- but worn- face of Mit Tressur filled the screen, a fanfare of brass instruments decrescendoing.
"Good evening, America. I'm Mit Tressur, and today is Friday, August 24, 2040. Tonight, we bringing you breaking news: earlier today, NTC received inside information from the federal government that they would be moving against multiple eminent figures of the Black Widow gang. Originating in the chaos following the Depression of 2012, the Black Widows rose to the mantle of 'most destructive' gang on the East Coast of our Union. Within years, they set up a strict oligarchy, secured drug routes all over North America, the East Coast, in particular, and began to establish an organization capable of challenging the police in terms of fortitude and competency.
Turning his head, the anchor (and, subsequently, the camera angle) began to speak again, his eloquent words exiting his tongue slow enough to be understood, but not too fast, for fear that his words, so carefully crafted, should become mangled. "For nearly two decades, the Widows ruled the East Coast in terms of criminal enterprises. That is, until this morning. The Philadelphia District Attorney's office cracked their leader, Antonio Salvarez." A file photo appeared in a small square, superimposed to the right of Mit's head, who resumed his speech. "The gang leader revealed the names of several high-ranking officials, drug suppliers, and numerous crimes committed by the previously mentioned, and agreed to testify against his former comrades. Federal agents were dispatched moments later to arrest these men.
"In a rare moment of deliberate stating my parent station's opinion, we here at NTC would like to thank the prosecuting attorney and the District Attorney, Jacob Litofsky and Jack McKey, respectively, for their service to our country. Due to their actions, the DEA expects an approximate twenty percent drop in all drug sales and the Pennsylvania Department of Justice is expecting a drop in the number of homicide charges by around thirty percent.
"In other news..."
Grabbing his glass of wine, the executive ADA downed the remaining alcohol down in a single gulp, then exhaled violently when the liquid burned his throat. Then, exercising his superlative perception skills, "Would you get to your point already, Jack?"
Chuckling, the DA sipped at his ruby-red wine. The candlelight, now fading rapidly, cast daring shadows on all that surrounded it, including Jack McKey. His faced suddenly looked transformed- wrinkles waxed and waned, the skin under his eyes seemed to droop, and the man's graying hair seemed to appear a ghostly, milky white. "I think that you should run for Senate, Litofsky."
The general quite mood of Philly's Place was shattered in an instant by the hearty laughter of an incredulous Jacob Litofsky. This fit of laughing drew the attention of several inconvenienced Philadelphians, who had, until recent, been enjoying the solitude of their meal. Regaining his composure, Litofsky paused to wipe a tear from his eye. Dismissively, he reasoned, "I appreciate it, Jack, but I've got no desire to run for the state senate. Pennsylvania's got enough morons to help run it, and I'd be so much more useful here, in Philly, trying to get the criminals off the streets."
"The state Senate would be a waste of your time, Jacob. I was referring to the Senate of the North American Union."
Blinking twice slowly, Litofsky reached across the table, grabbed his senior's glass, and downed his wine. "You're crazy, McKey. One hundred percent crazy."
"A revolution must have sounded pretty crazy in 1776, too." Then, getting up from the table and slipping on his coat, "Just promise me you'll think about it, alright?"
Nodding absentmindedly, Litofsky did not notice his boss drop a fifty dollar bill on the table for dinner, nor did he notice the candles last light burn out, their life snuffed out by a careless breeze. Instead, his attention was focused completely on the Union's flag across the street, fluttering in the wind, its white stars illuminated by the sun's gentle setting rays.