Chapter 16

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” ― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

Six months later...
The Magistrate’s Court
Lakewood Village, TX (near Dallas-Fort Worth)

“All rise. The Magistrate Court’s criminal panel for this jurisdiction is now in session, the Honorable Magistrate Daniel Leland presiding. God save the Anglo-American Commonwealth and this venerable court!” the bailiff now announced the arrival of Dan Leland, black robe, gavel, and all, as everyone stood and faced him.

Carrie Underwood stood with her knees shaking right then. She had been arrested for trying to kill her husband, Mike Fisher, destroying his property, attacking him with a letter opener as he escaped their burning house in nothing but a frown, and for setting fire to the house in the first place, which was arson. Her celebrity status had garnered the case plenty of attention, but it had dramatically failed to save her pretty ass so far. Her expensive lawyers found that the new legal process of the reorganized criminal justice system left them breathless in trying to keep up with the changes. The prosecutors had adapted much faster, especially since the changes tended to favor them. The abolition of jury trials, for instance, didn’t bode well for her.

“You may all be seated. Before I announce the verdict, which I have indeed reached, let me clear about something. Ms. Underwood, you and your counselors have attempted to turn this case into a media circus, which I have stopped ruthlessly, as was necessary. The old ways have failed us. They are the gods that failed. This is a brand new day, including a brand new system of civil and criminal jurisprudence. I am also told that there is a process server here to serve some kind of legal correspondence upon the defendant. Is this correct?” Dan Leland turned to the bailiff, who nodded.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the bailiff informed him.

“Then allow her to be duly served,” Leland instructed the bailiff to allow the process server into the courtroom.

The pretty young lady who entered the courtroom, perhaps a bit too perky or bubbly for her chosen vocation, simply smiled and handed Carrie a large, brown manila envelope with her name and her husband’s on it. The meaning was unmistakable, especially coming from a law firm that he had retained. It was divorce paperwork, of course, what else?

“Carrie Underwood, you have been served. Have a nice day,” the server left without even asking for an autograph.

That she winked at the Magistrate with her lips pursed in a seductive expression was very telling. She knew his name now and she knew that he was the local Magistrate, the judicial and executive power that counted in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. He was the boss under the auspices of the new regime and she was eager to impress him. Being starstruck by a disgraced celebrity country/pop diva wouldn’t exactly help her cause there and she was smart enough to know that fact. Lindsay Brooks was nobody’s fool, after all.

That was when it really hit home to Carrie how low she sank. She was in an orange jumpsuit, only freed from handcuffs while awaiting the verdict, but well aware that until she was released from custody, she faced such restraints every time she left the courtroom. She had been cuffed and sometimes even shackled several times during this trial, which for whatever reason, the Magistrate himself chose to try. He hadn’t handed it over to his deputies, as he often did with less prominent cases. He clearly thought that this was worthy of his direct oversight. If she wasn’t found innocent of all charges, she might never be a free woman again.

“So, it is high time for the verdict. The accused will now rise. Face the bench. Carrie Marie Underwood, as to the charge of attempted murder, I find you guilty as charged. As to the charge of aggravated assault, I find you guilty. As to the charge of mayhem, I find you guilty. As to the charge of arson, I find you guilty. Having been convicted on all counts, Carrie Marie Underwood, you will find that your former wealth and fame will not avail you here. There are no easily moved or manipulated jurors that you or your lawyers can sway with appeals to sentiment. Reason prevails here, not emotion. If there is anything that you have to say before I pass sentence, this is the time for it,” Leland insisted very sternly, despite his mellow stoner reputation.

“Please ... I ... I didn’t mean ... I mean, I was drunk and angry ... please have mercy! I beg you! Show some ... Christian charity ... please,” Carrie engaged in sanctimonious platitudes in the way that generally disgusted Leland.

Appealing to a faith that he didn’t even practice didn’t help her there.

“I hereby sentence you to a term of not less than twenty years and not more than thirty-five years in a Commonwealth unisex prison. You will be a very old lady if you ever get out of prison, madame, and you will not have any luxury or privilege there. You will have all of the equality that you could ever want behind bars. You can, however, continue to worship as you please, but there won’t be any special diet for you, vegetarian or otherwise. You will eat whatever everyone else eats, Ms. Underwood, and be grateful for it. Either that, or else you can always starve to death. We’ll see how important your supposed principles are to you now.