Jordan sat in a courtroom for the first time in his life wearing a suit our mom picked out and looked like he belonged somewhere else entirely. Which he did. That was the whole argument.
I sat in the gallery behind him. Gia sat next to me. Our mom sat next to Gia. We did not talk much. We just watched.
* * *
My lawyer was better than I expected. Sharp, prepared, and she had a way of anticipating what the prosecution was going to do before they did it that made me feel, for the first time since I woke up in that hospital bed, like I might actually be okay.
The prosecution's case was built around Zen's operation and everyone connected to it. Financial records. Phone records from numbers I had never used. Testimony from the two surviving attackers, both of whom had taken deals in exchange for cooperation. My name came up in the context of being present, which was not nothing, but presence alone was not conspiracy.
My lawyer's argument was simple. Jordan Bennett is a musician. He had two major label offers on the table. He was deceived by a man who used the promise of industry access to pull him into a situation he had no knowledge of. He is a victim of circumstance and a witness, not a participant.
The key witness was not me.
It was Marcus.
* * *
Marcus Webb had been with Zen for four years. Mid-level. He handled logistics, kept things moving between people who were not supposed to know each other. He was thirty-one, two kids, and according to what came out on the stand he had been quietly resentful of Zen for most of those four years.
He took the stand in a gray suit and kept his eyes on the table.
The prosecutor walked him through it.
"Mr. Webb, can you describe your role in the organization led by the individual known as Zen?"
"Logistics coordinator. I handled vehicles, timing, kept communication between people who did not know each other. Four years."
"And can you explain how the events of the night in question came to occur?"
Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then he said Zen had been planning the intercept for about three months. A large cocaine shipment moving through a rival operation. Zen wanted it. He had been watching the route, building a crew, doing everything right. The plan was solid.
"But you had access to the details of this plan."
"I had all of it. Routes, timing, the vehicle lineup, everything. That was my job."
"And what did you do with that information?"
Marcus looked down. He made contact with the crew Zen was planning to intercept, he said. Reached out through a middleman. Sold them everything. The route, the timing, how many vehicles, where everyone would be positioned. All of it for one hundred thousand dollars.
The courtroom was very quiet.
"Why?" the prosecutor asked.
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. Then he said: because Zen had been promising me a bigger cut for two years and kept moving the line. Because I had done four years of the most dangerous work in the operation and I was still mid-level while other people moved up. Because he dangled things in front of people and never delivered and I got tired of waiting.
He paused.
And because the number was right, he said. That was the honest answer. The number was right and I took it.
"Mr. Webb, were you aware that Zen intended to bring an additional person to the location that night? Someone outside the regular crew?"
He found out that afternoon, Marcus said. A few hours before. Zen told him he was bringing a musician. A kid who had just gotten label interest and was starting to think he did not need Zen anymore.
"Did Zen explain why he was bringing this individual to an active job location?"
Leverage, Marcus said. If the kid was present at something like this, Zen had something on him. Something to keep him in line. Zen told him the kid thought it was a business meeting, some industry connection he was going to introduce him to. He had no idea what the location actually was.
My jaw was tight. I did not move.
"When you sold this information to the rival crew, did you inform them that there would be a civilian present at the location?"
Marcus shook his head. No, he said. I did not know about the kid until a few hours before and by then the deal was already done. The crew had the information. There was nothing I could do to stop what was coming.
He looked up for the first time.
When I heard he survived I felt something I did not expect, Marcus said. I had not thought about a civilian being in the middle of it. That was not part of what I sold. That was Zen putting someone in the way who had nothing to do with any of it, and that is on Zen, not on me. But I have thought about it every day since.
"Thank you, Mr. Webb."
* * *
My lawyer stood.
"Mr. Webb, to your direct knowledge, had Jordan Bennett ever participated in any operation connected to Zen?"
"No."
"Had you ever seen him at any location, meeting, or exchange connected to the operation prior to that night?"
"No. I had never seen him before. I only knew he existed because Zen mentioned him that afternoon."
"So the first and only time Jordan Bennett appeared at any location connected to this operation was the night Zen brought him there under false pretenses."
"Yes."
"No further questions."
* * *
We broke for lunch. Small room off the hallway. My lawyer was already going through notes before she sat down.
"That was as good as it gets," she said.
"I know," I said.
"Zen used you. That is the narrative now and it is supported by the testimony of someone who was inside the operation. The prosecution cannot undo that."
I sat there thinking about Marcus. Not with sympathy exactly. He sold information that got people killed. He did it for money because he was tired of waiting for what he thought he was owed. I understood that feeling more than I wanted to.
But he also said it out loud in open court. That the kid had nothing to do with any of it. That Zen put me there. He did not have to say it the way he said it but he did.
My phone buzzed. Rue: how is it going.
Me: okay I think.
Rue: we are right outside.
I looked at that for a second. My mom, Gia, and Rue out there in that gallery all morning because of where I had been and what I had done and what had been done to me. Not one question. Just there.
I put the phone down and finished eating.
Afternoon session in twenty minutes. I put my jacket back on and went back in.