Chapter 3

When everyone except Sienna was finally gone, I slept like a log. The day had been far too stressful and Ross’ body was in no way capable of withstanding the kind of emotional and physical stress as I had been through. Sienna stayed with me every second. She sat nearby and read while I slept, refusing to slip out and do anything for herself.

It was much later when I awoke. For the first time since I arrived into Ross’ body, I had an appetite. Food actually tasted appealing. Ross’ body was deprived for so long he had apparently lost, or subconsciously suppressed any enjoyment that could be achieved by eating. It took weeks and weeks of regular meals before anything resembling a desire to eat reappeared.

For several days I was troubled by Mildred Derron, but couldn’t figure out why. There was something troubling – almost threatening – about her presence, and I feared facing her, or having her in control of my life. No amount of searching Ross’ memories unlocked a good reason for my fears related to her. Rather than ignore my inner warning system, I became more convinced by the hour that something was very wrong with regards to her. Mildred was just one of my concerns as the weeks dragged on.

In four days, Friday came just like it was supposed to, and I was very anxious about appearing in court and facing Ross’ tormentor. The memories of his abuse kept me awake for several nights and there was a rage building inside me that might not be appropriate in a courtroom. Sondra showed up with clothes that she thought would fit me, because the clothes Ross had been wearing at the time of his attack were blood soaked and far too beat up to be seen in public. No one had to tell me that they tried to find clothes for me in Ross’ mother’s house, but found nothing except rags.

By the time I was dressed and ready to go, Sienna and Sondra surprised me by singing ‘Happy Birthday.’ “You’re right. I’m fourteen!” A little adolescent excitement was appropriate for the occasion, so I let my inner kid out and enjoyed the attention.

As Sondra drove us to court, I felt a darkness settle over me. Having to face Hazel Thompson was weighing heavily on me. I wasn’t sure whether I could remain under control once we were in the same room. My inner man wanted to tear her head from her body and set it on fire. The fourteen year old, weak and sick boy wanted to run somewhere far away, or hide under a desk. The first was not how sick, injured, weak boys behave. I had to be very careful.

Jeanette Wilmont, the prosecuting attorney who came to see me in the hospital sat with me while we waited to be called in. She pushed my wheelchair to a private room in the back of the courthouse, where we were alone with some snacks and a pitcher of iced tea. Sondra had a call to make and promised to return before I was called in. Sienna was a witness and had to wait in the hallway and would only be allowed in if there were some issues with my health.

Jeanette was younger than I first suspected. Her hair was pinned up rather severely, but still looked attractive as only blonds can do. Her figure filled out the conservative suit she was wearing. It was my guess that she wore that suit when she needed to summon her inner killer to deal with cases like Hazel Thompson’s.

After a few minutes she broke the uneasy silence with some news. “The Judge is clearing the courtroom of anyone not expressly required, or permitted to be present. Your mother will be present until she opens her mouth the first time, then the Judge promises to have her removed and taken back to jail.” I could live with that...

... I hoped.

A Deputy came and got us just as Jeanette finished telling me about the agreed rules that applied to me having to appear in the same courtroom with Hazel. He took in the numerous facial wounds along with the heavy bandages swaddling my head and shot me a look of pure pity. I tried to pull myself up to full height and appear brave, but that’s hard when you’re well under five feet and not quite seventy pounds.

He chose to push my chair into a courtroom in the back of the building and entered through a side door. Jeanette went directly to a table to the right of the courtroom, which would put us on the left of the Judge. The chair up on the bench was empty, as was the matching table across the room. The Deputy pushed me to an open spot in front of the railing that separated the gallery from the Judge and lawyers. When he parked me there, Jeanette moved to the end of her table nearest me, obviously to offer emotional support.

I could feel my heart beating fast and loud. Jeanette must have sensed my uneasiness, because she squeezed my hand and nodded towards another door that opened to admit Doctor Halberstadt. He smiled, but found a seat in the gallery, not near us at all.

When I glanced at Jeanette she smiled, and softly whispered directly into my ear, so I could hear, “He is being called as a medical witness, so he can’t sit with us. Neither can Sondra. They have to stay apart until after they testify and the Judge says they are finished. Sondra is waiting in a private waiting room until after Doctor Halberstadt finishes and then I will call her as a witness to your request for assistance from the hospital.”

She saw my concerned look, and said, “Don’t worry. This is what I do.”

The door in the back opened one more time and Mildred from Child Services found a seat away from the others. That gave me no comfort. I tried to tell Jeanette about a shred of Ross’ memory that suddenly surfaced, but never got the chance. Just as Jeanette would have said something about Mildred’s presence, the bailiff put an end to all discussion when he called out, “Please stand for Judge Roland Marcus.” Everybody stood except me. I tried to stand but the Judge waived me back into my seat with a flick of his hand.

Once he was satisfied, he sat and the bailiff invited everyone to sit, remain quiet and avoid interrupting the judge at any time. There were other instructions, but they were lost on me when a separate door opened and Hazel Thompson was led in, handcuffed and further restrained through the use of a very wide leather belt, through which her handcuffs were threaded for security.

She looked over at my wheelchair and gave me look of pure malice. It was so nakedly evil that even the bailiff noticed and stepped forward so that he was positioned between us. I refused to flinch in the wake of her hatred, but I felt a trickle under my bandages. At least one of my wounds was bleeding. I prayed the blood remained behind the gauze so that bitch couldn’t take comfort from seeing more of the result of her abuse.

A clerk read off some announcements and then called our case. Jeanette perked up when the Judge addressed her by name. “Miss Wilmont ... Are you prepared to speak on behalf of the State of North Carolina?”

She stood respectfully, and addressed the Judge as if they were a room alone. “Thank you, your Honor. For the record, I am Jeanette Wilmont for the State. Beside me, in the front of the courtroom, is Ross Thompson. You will see that he is confined to a wheelchair due to over nine years of the vilest, most brutal abuse that I have ever had the misfortune to have to investigate.

“Young Mr. Thompson came to our attention after officials at Mercy Community Hospital requested law enforcement intervention in a child abuse case that came in by ambulance. The injuries inflicted on Ross Thompson are quite horrific. The State is prepared to present evidence of abuse caused by and invited by his maternal parent, such that he will be not only scarred all over his body, but disabled due to permanent hearing loss. He was systematically deprived of food and rest, medical attention, and access to education, while his maternal parent sold access to his body to a plethora of men and women, who were encouraged to use him as a sexual toy, while competing to inflict the most pain as they did.