Terry Little

The Kettler (part 2), by Terry Little

…better odds of surviving, and as the
Foot steps could be heard approaching him from behind content couldn’t have felt any better.
But no one shoved him aside, nor asked him to move over, the foot steps seemed to cease.
“Get out of the car, slowly, with your hands up.” A voice shouted vociferously.
Bewildered, he had never heard EMTs talk that way before.Out of his peripheral and simultaneously trying to keep the woman’s heart alive he saw the white hand and what it held, black and pointing it directly at him.
A cop and gun.
Ambiguous as to what to do in this situation he faced the woman and imagined someone he loved, he continued the compressions, he couldn’t given up on her.
“I’m trying to help!” He shouted.
The cop shuffled closer. “Get your fucking hands up!”
“…She needs help.”
“I’m not going to tell you again–put your hands up and get out of the car, before I shoot your ass.”
The cops crass ignorance had become the determination between life and death and thinking rational or becoming a martyr were potential conclusions, however, the latter sufficed. Never taking his eyes off the woman’s limp figure, he slowly raised his hands, yielding for his own safety.
Maybe if he’d had more time he could save her, but he knew he couldn’t take the risk with the trigger happy cop behind him, or it would be him looking forward to being resuscitated.
“I’m putting my hands up now!” He relayed over his shoulder.
He’d failed his mission tonight, and failed the woman, he had hoped to catch her move, and he was intent on doing so even as he was forced to the slush covered pavement, rubber knecking the best he could even as EMTs

Pg. 6
arrived and begun desperately working on the woman eventually blocking his line of sight leaving his imagination hoping for the best possible outcome because he could do was watch on–not at the woman, but at the reflection of red, blue and white lights reflect off of everything before him–the snow, the clothes of the EMTs, and the cops who stood feet away talking as he lay there in a see of despair for the woman.
A blissful night of anticipation turned tragic.

He was booked into the, Lorain County Jail, then subsequently arraigned the following morning on charges of breaking and entering and assault. He couldn’t bear the slanderous accusations on his name, but could do nothing about it. The night before so called witnesses claimed to have saw him break into the car and attack the woman…The paper ran with the lies.
And though he insisted the claims to be false, detectives would hear nothing of it.
On his third day of confinement he was called to the visiting room of the jail where he sat on a cold steel stool behind a thick, transparent glass window. The room had air conditioned ventilation which didn’t serve well with his jumping nerves.
The lawyer who saw him was Kevin Lutz, a ruffle bearded ginger in a wrinkled smoke grey suit. Lutz ran down the procedural normalities–what was happening, his next court appearance, and what would soon be filed on Steven’s behalf.
“Other than that everything is looking good,” said Lutz. “I’ve found witnesses who said you were helping the woman and would testify to it.”
This was the best news Steven had heard in three days.
“Then why am I still here?” He said.
“Well, the prosecutor decided to go forward with the charges despite the information I given her. But I believe you have nothing to worry about, I can beat this.”
“It’s easy for you to tell me not to worry when you’re not the one in here. When can I get out?” he said modestly.
Lutz stared down to the paperwork in front of him, then said with frankness.”I’m going to be honest with you. You have a big problem. The breaking and entering may be difficult to defend, because technically speaking, you weren’t granted permission to enter the woman’s car. So hear me out…”
“I was trying to save her life,” Steven spat, cutting Lutz off.

Pg. 8
“They’re not seeing it that way. With the witnesses they have against you, and the ones who could possibly testify on your behalf, it leaves room for contradictions, and assumptions in the face of jurors, most times tend to go in favor of prosecutors.”
“You said things was looking good, how’s what you’re telling me going to help me then?”
“Before you had cut me off I was going to tell you,” Lutz scolded, then said. “The prosecutor has already offered us a deal.”
“A deal!…” Steven shot back. “For what?”
“Well, if you cop to the breaking in entering you’ll get a year in prison with a guaranteed early release in six months. If you don’t take it, the deals off, and she tries you for assault too.”
“What!…” Steven blurted. He wanted to lose it, but he refrained. “I told you I didn’t do anything. All I did was try to help the woman.” he knew nothing about the criminal court system, but now he wished he’d had.
Lutz shrugged sarcastically. “Maybe if you hadn’t broken into the car this wouldn’t be your reality.” he said, sounding less like an attorney and more like an arbitrator.
Steven scowled at the remark. “Are you serious.” He was in utter disbelief.

Terry Little
DOC #A562207

Categories: Terry Little

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