#Actually the tape is the main piece of physical evidence that stops me from believing the Ace culprit theory

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The trial begins; Roger Taylor x reader x oc male

*Author’s note*

Well it’s been a LOOOOOONG time since I did a Rock Angel update but I finally got the time to do it and finally finish the DARKEST chapter of the Rock Angel’s life. So everything from here on out will be either PURE FLUFF OR PURE ANGST. Now I did my best to research actual court trial procedures plus using my brief knowledge of the justice system from a couple classes I took back in college but if there’s anything I got wrong and you’re actually studying court system/law enforcement PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLLLEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSE LET. ME. KNOW.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@wormzteef​

@queen-paladin​

@starswin​

@isabella-bby​

@5sos-wdw​

@bohemiansweede​

@onebigfangirlworld​

@ssa-sadboi​

@naturalswifty89​

@labessieisallama​

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Six months of physical rehab, a year of therapy, and 2 surgeries later, I was finally able to get back to some normalcy.  Of course the nightmares were frequent every night and of course the kids, especially Kelly, suffered a great deal of it as well.

During my rehabilitation in physical therapy, I had done a court case against James Woods for unprofessional hiring and neglect of care for his client’s safety and managed to sue his ass for over $275,000. Not only that but Hollywood Records fired his arse and once his name became public, no record company wanted to do business with him ever again.

But of course the main trail against Steve was still to come. Due to the restrictions of his uncle no longer able to help him out anymore, Steve’s bail money was set for $75,000.  And since no one could afford to bail him out, Steve remained in prison until the trial date set for March 19th.

I was currently sitting on a tire swing in the barn at mom’s and Misha’s place.  Since the news were running my story everywhere, Jack thought it best to keep us and the kids away from the city press so we went to his parent’s farm to hide away from the stress. The sky was cloudy and it was slightly chilly out today but I barely acknowledged it due to my nerves as the trial date was drawing near. I soon felt a jacket come around my shoulders and a soft voice said.

“Reminds me of when you rain out during that rainstorm when Prenter revealed your secret to us.”

“I’d feel a lot better if you didn’t mention that arsehole’s name right now dad.”

“You’re right I’m sorry. But hey be thankful this time you’re in a barn and not out in the pouring rain. After that day you got sick for 4 days.”

“Yeah. And you and Deacy were there to take care of me the entire time. Hell you skipped an entire rehearsal to take care of me.”

“You’re my daughter (n/n). I’ll always be there to take care of you. Even when you don’t want me to.” He said as he leaned up against the tire swing and swayed us from side to side.

Since being released from the hospital, while Deacy went home to tell Ronnie and the rest of the kids I was fine, and Brian had to go back for his solo tour, Roger elected to stay with me and the rest of the family to help take care of us.  

He called Dominque and his side chic of his decision to stay with me till the trail was over and the two women accepted his decision (which was a shocker on Debbie’s part. I knew Dominque understood).

“What’s going on in that head of yours lovey?” he asked me. He stopped the swaying and came in front of me, his hands holding onto the rope.

“I’m terrified dad.” I admitted.  “With the court date—I know I’m going to have to face him and it—fucking terrifies me. You know he’s gonna be looking at me the entire time. But I can’t just abandon the trial, otherwise he’ll walk free with hardly a sentence.” He sighed deeply.

“I know this isn’t easy for you. Hell if it were up to me, I would’ve never allowed it to come this far. I’m your father and I failed to protect you.”

“But you didn’t know dad. In truth it’s really my fault. I should’ve spoken up about this to you and the guys before it escalated it the way it did.”

“Hold it right there. Don’t go blaming yourself now (Y/n). This was in no way your fault.”

“Then it shouldn’t be yours.” He nodded.  “I just……what if I don’t have the strength to stay in the same room as him? Or what if the law gives him a slap on the wrist like they’ve done before?” Roger came around and wrapped an arm around my collar bone, his chin resting on my head as his other hand rubbed my left arm up and down.

“Because unlike before where they couldn’t prove he did those things, the news has proof of his attempted murder of you. Your lawyers have pulled up all the evidence of the additional charges that you and Jack want to charge him with, he can’t win this time. Your prosecutors won’t allow that to happen.”

“I just wish Freddie was here to help me with this.”

“So do I love. So do I. But do you know what he’d tell you right now?” I looked up at him and he looked right at me. “He’d tell you. ‘Buck up darling. You go to that courtroom, look that fucker in the eye. And show him he didn’t win. That he can’t win. For while he may be the Big Bad Wolf, you are the Lioness Queen.’”

Dad hugged me and I placed my hand on his arm that was still wrapped across my collar bone and leaned my head against his chest.

*March 19th, 1994. One hour till court hearing*

Back in New York City; Dad, Jack, and myself had just arrived at the New York airport. Waiting for us was my lawyer Mr. Barnes and the rest of the Prosecuting team.  And of course the media wanted a piece of me before the court hearing.  So Jack and Roger were sandwiching me out of the eyes of the media, while my lawyers were diverting the cameras away from me till we got to the car.

“Mrs. Kline do you have anything to say on behalf of this case!”

“Do you believe Steve Harrison should be given the death penalty?”

“Did you engage any intimate relationships with Mr. Harrison?”

“My client has no comments at this time!” Mr. Barnes stated firmly to the press as Jack quickly guided me inside the car.  Roger came in after him followed by Mr. Barnes and the others.

The driver immediately headed for the courthouse and Mr. Barnes told me.

“Alright so Mrs. Kline. Just to review you are still willingly to make your testimony on the stand, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Now I know you’ve been through a lot and his DA team will try to push your buttons but I must strictly advise you to keep your composure and your temper because if you bat an eye once or raise your voice for any reason, the DA will use that to their advantage.”

“I’ll do my best. Truthfully, I just want this whole mess over with so that I never have to see him again.” Jack took my hand in both of his giving it a comforting squeeze, while dad rubbed my shoulder.

“Understood ma’am.” The rest of the drive was pretty silent until we arrived at the courthouse.

As we entered inside not only were their lawyers, security guards, and various other people there for other trials, the rest of the NYC press was also there.

“THERE SHE IS!!! THE ROCK ANGEL!!!” A female reporter called out.  Once again we were horded by a swarm of cameras and microphones/tape recorders being shoved in our faces.

“My client refuses to speak or make any comments at this time! Now all of you please move back! Can we get security over here!” soon enough police and security made their way through the crowd and tried to back off the vultures.  But New York press people are as tough as they come, when they want something they’ll do anything to get it.

They proved themselves strong and determined to get a word out of me, but I just held my shades over my eyes and kept my head down to avoid any cameras getting a picture of my face.  Finally after what felt like forever, we arrived at the room where my trial was being held.

Already the room was packed with people, the media that was allowed to document this case had their cameras set up and their recorders ready to record what they needed.

My attorneys guided me towards the desk where we would be sitting at while Jack and my dad took their seats in the crowd just two rows behind us.  I sat down inbetween Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson, the leading Prosecutor and we all waited for the moment of truth for Steve to arrive.

About 20min. later, the DA team came in and walking in between a very large fat man and a thinner older man with white hair was Steve Harrison. In chains and in that infamous orange jumpsuit.  

When his eyes looked directly at me, I once again saw that empty look in his eyes.  There was just nothing there in those piercing brown eyes of his.  But spreading across his face was a smug grin. It was faint but I could see it clear as day as he kept staring me down.

“Don’t look at him. He’s trying to provoke you.” Mr. Wilson, the Head Prosecutor whispered to me. “Just look at the Judge and block him out.” As the courtroom continued to fill in with people as well as the 12 jurors, I felt my heart beating faster and my palms grew sweater by the second.

“He’s still looking over at me, I can feel it.”

“Again don’t let him get under your skin. I’m told you’re called Mama Lioness for a reason, now let me see that.” Mr. Wilson whispered to me again.  I took a deep breath and recomposed myself. “Atta girl.” He encouraged me.  As 9o’clock struck, the bailiff said.

“All rise for the Honorable Judge Mayweather.” We all stood up and soon coming in was a man around his 50’s, maybe even 60’s, wearing prescription glasses which emphasized his blue eyes.  He was a tall, lean man standing well over 6ft tall.  

“You may now be seated.” He said with a soft but commanding tone as he took his seat at the podium.  We all sat down and he opened the files. “The charges against the defendant Steve Harrison include attempted 1st degree murder, aggravated stalking, and 1st degree kidnapping. How does the defendant plea?”

“Not guilty your honor.” Steve’s obese lawyer proclaimed. Of course he’d plead not guilty.

“Very well. We shall began with the opening statements from each side. Prosecution, you have the floor.”

“Thank you your honor.” Mr. Barnes stated as he stood up. He paced around the front of the courtroom and made his opening statement, “Ladies and gentlemen of the court; Obsession is a dangerous thing. We all feel it. Whether it’s for the next best product, or for someone we want in our lives. And my client has been a victim of one man’s obsession for more than a year and a half. The defendant Steve Harrison not only put her through a living hell but also her entire family. Harassing, assaulting and even kidnapping my client’s eldest child. All for the sake of a delusion he had in his mind. But he had the conscious to know what he was doing was wrong. Mr. Harrison plotted, articulated and chose his methods on how to harm my client and her family and last June he almost achieved his goal when he put those two bullets in her before a live audience.”

“Thank you Mr. Barnes.” Judge Mayweather spoke.  Mr. Barnes came and sat down beside me as the judge continued, “Defense council, you may give your opening statement.” Steve’s lawyer stood up and stood before the court.

“Abuse, fear, and control. My client has dealt with these issues his entire life. His uncle manipulated him into pleasing his every demand for he was the only father-figure he had in his life. My client wanted to do everything to please his uncle’s every demand. But it was not also just his uncle, it was also the so called ‘Rock Angel’ that had seduced him into thinking she actually cared for him.”

Excuse me?! I almost wanted to raise my voice and call Steve’s lawyer out for his accusations but one stern look from Mr. Wilson told me to keep my mouth shut, less I risk making myself look bad before the jury and call this a mistrial.

“Not only that but also the threat’s from the Angel’s husband also caused my client great fear and anxiety. He felt like he needed to defend himself so as we begin this trial I ask you, the jurors to see that it was my client who was forced into committing these acts as a means of protection. Not out of his own desire, but for his own safety. Thank you.” He bowed his head before taking his seat.

“Right then. We shall now begin with the 1st charge of attempted murder. Prosecutor Wilson, do you have your first witness?”

“We do your honor. Prosecution calls Jack Kline to the stand.” Mr. Barnes stated.  Jack stood up from the audience and proceeded towards the stand.  Once he was there, Mr. Wilson held the Holy Bible and held it out to Jack, who then placed his right hand on top of it while raising his left hand in the air.  “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?”

“I do.” Jack replied before taking his seat at the stand. It was then Mr. Barnes came up and proceeded with the direct examination.

“Mr. Kline can you tell us what happened prior to the concert shooting last June?”

“My wife (Y/n) was finishing up the last leg of her tour. On March 4th, 1992 we received a letter from Steve Harrison.”

“And what did the letter say?”

“It said a lot of things. About her about me but what really caught our eyes was he wrote and I quote. ‘I’ve had enough of this bullshit. If I can’t have you, no one can. So you better perform with one eye on the audience and one eye on the shadows. I’m going to kill you, you fucking bitch’.”

“And according to you and your cousin Jensen, who was acting as her head security. He tried to harm her, is that true?” Mr. Barnes asked.

“Yes. At her show in Atlanta he snuck in through the screen room and tried to kidnap her.” Mr. Barnes nodded and said to the jury.

“After his arrest in Atlanta, police reports said they found zip-ties, a bottle of chloroform and a 6in steel blade hunting knife. He was detained for only 8 weeks when his bail was made by an anonymous payer.” He turned back to Jack. “What happened the day of the concert at Madison Square Garden?”

At that point I saw Jack tense up.  He shifted uncomfortably before he said.

“My wife was up on stage performing her favorite Queen song, which she made a cover of per Freddie’s request, and just before she ended the song. Steve, in police uniform, came up behind my wife and shot her in the back. As she lay there on the floor he shot her again in the stomach. Then I—” he trailed off as he glared towards Steve who looked at him blankly.

His eyes were just soulless as they stared up at Jack.  While Jack’s eyes were full of hatred.

“I then watched him take her wedding ring right off her finger before smirking at me. Like he was proud that he took my wife’s life and the symbol of her being my wife, my equal.”

“Thank you, nothing further your honor.” Mr. Barnes walked back to his seat.  Now it was Steve’s lawyer’s time to cross examine my husband’s statement.

“You said that Steve wrote you a letter. Directed to both you and your wife is that correct?”

“Yes. Yes he did.”

“Said some crude stuff about you and your wife, correct?”

“Yes. Called her some stuff I’d really rather not stay and do things that no other man should do to her.”

“Objection!” Mr. Barnes exclaimed.

“Overruled.” Judge Mayweather said.

“Ladies and gentlemen I have here in my hand a copy of the letter written by my client. It is a hefty one I give you that but let me direct your attention to page 3, 4th paragraph. My client has written in detail. ‘On Halloween night of 1992, your husband physically beat me and then with no reason at all, sicked your dogs on me. I had to get 25 stitches on my leg and 30 on my right arm.’ Did you order your dogs to attack my client?”

“Only because he broke into my house after he assaulted me first!”

“Ladies and gentlemen I also have here in my hands the police report of that night. Let the record show that my client in no shape or form, physically break into the Rock Angel’s home . The door was wide open, there were no security cameras. So who’s to say that the dogs didn’t attack my client outside of the house?” I looked to the jury and some of them were actually believing what the Defense was saying. “Now Mr. Kline you do realize that dog attacks are a serious offense. Especially according to California law, right?”

“Objection your honor! Steve Harrison still entered the premise illegally by accounts to his restraining order!” Mr. Wilson stated as he stood up.

“That is true. Defense counselor best you alternate your question on that remark.” Take that you son of a bitch.  Steve’s lawyer turned back to Jack and he said.

“But you still confirm that you allowed your dogs to attack my client?”

“Yes. Because your client was about to attack my 6 year old daughter and 2 year old twin sons.”

“Nothing further your honor.” Steve’s lawyer said.  Jack was then allowed to go back to sit beside Roger.

The court continued on and after briefing for a half hour recess, the trial continued and finally I was allowed to take the stand. I swore under oath and my lawyer questioned me.

“Now Mrs. Kline what can you tell us about Steve Harrison when your first met him? Did you at all have anything to do with hiring him?”

“No. His uncle hired him as a favor for his sister, to ensure that Steve finally got himself a job.” I took a pause there thinking back to the day I first met Steve. “At first he seemed like a nice guy. He seemed to know what he was doing so it wasn’t like he was unqualified. He got me to my appointments on time, kept my schedule in check. And remained professional for the first year and a half of being hired.”

“Now you said he remained professional after a year and a half. Care to elaborate on what changed between you two?”

“It was 2 months after the Freddie Mercury tribute concert, the start of summer 1992. I was recording my last album ‘Fly High Mercury’. I barely slept in a week; Steve was there helping me out. We talked about the album, then it transitioned into family talk. As we were talking he started to get a little too close to me, actually even pining me up against the wall of the studio. Next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. He was kissing me without my consent.”

“And as you claim, everything went downhill from there?”

“Yes. The gifts, the constant phone calls, the harassment in the studio. Going off on delusions telling me things like why did I marry Jack Kline? That our kids should’ve been from his sperm. Telling me how in the music industry singers are always cheating on their spouses and I’m no different. That we could have a separate life together while I continue to rise to the top.”

“Which meant you sleeping with him while he helped make your name bigger?”

“Yes. But I refused. Because I’m not like those women who will sleep around to get what she wants. I’ll get it my way through my resources and strengths.” Mr. Barnes nodded at me with a slight grin at the corner of his face.

“Nothing further your honor.”  Now it was the defense attorney’s turn.

“You’ll get through the music industry through your own resources and your own strengths.” He asked in more of a questioning tone as he came up towards me.

“Along with the support and love of my family.” I added.

“Interesting. Mrs. Kline isn’t it true that you first began your career with the help of Queen’s help?”

“Objection your honor! How is this relevant to this case?” Mr. Wilson proclaimed.

“I’ll be getting to that your honor but Mrs. Kline must answer my question.” The greasy, obese man stated as he leaned closer towards my podium.  I could just smell the disgusting cigar breath off his lips.

“Mrs. Kline, please answer the question.” The judge told me to do.

“They—helped me with my confidence in getting in front of an audience. But at the time I had no idea until hours before the show that’s what they were going to be doing.”

“And then afterwards you continued to use Queen’s resources to help you gain the fame you got in just under a year when most artists especially female singers can hardly get to that degree of fame on their own?”

“Objection your honor! He’s badgering the victim!” Mr. Wilson tried to suade the judge but judge Mayweather overruled it.

“I—we did have the same manager. But how is that different in the case when John Reid was managing both Queen and Elton John over 20 years ago?”

“Mr. Russell, I do hope you’re going somewhere with this because at this point you’re starting to try my patience.”

“Your honor this woman claims to use resources and her own strength, when, in fact, she manipulates men into getting what she wants in life. You said that you hadn’t slept in a week when recording the album? As we all know lack of sleep causes delusions and false memories of events. What if you merely imagined that my client tried to kiss you that night in the studio? And then afterwards had become so paranoid that you antagonized my client to be the villain in this court case!”

“I know what happened as clear as day that night in the studio. And I wasn’t imagining what I saw!” I snapped furiously at him.

“Mrs. Kline control your temper or I will have you placed under contempt of court!” Judge Mayweather warned me.

“Nothing further your honor.” Steve’s lawyer spoke before returning to his chair.  I was then called off back to my chair and I brushed my fingers through my hair anxiously.

“Just breathe. Don’t let the jury think they might’ve seen a false allegation in this case.” Mr. Barnes whispered to me.  I took a few deep breaths before recomposing myself.

Finally it was Steve’s turn to take the stand.

His defense team started off by asking pretty much the same questions Mr. Barnes asked me.  How he got the job, what was it like working for me.  And of course Steve tried to paint himself as the victim and I’ll admit he was a damn good actor.  Some of the jury was actually swayed by his performance.

I was petrified that even here in the Supreme Court of New York, Steve Harrison was gonna walk away with a slap on the wrist like he has been for the past 2 years.

For five days the trail continued on the same way, people taking their turn on the stands, each side providing their evidence to the jury with each charge we were doing against Steve.  

On the 6th day it was time for the final claims as well as closing statements.

“Mrs. Kline, can you describe to us the day when your daughter disappeared from school?” Mr. Barnes asked me.

“Well….” I adjusted the microphone in front of me and said. “I was busy planning my next upcoming tour and Jack had to work overtime at the car dealers. But we had asked my cousin in law Jared go pick her up. The school requires a full on sign-in sheet of additional guardians who are allowed to pick up the students in case the parents can’t pick up their students.”

“And you had Mr. Ackles name to that list correct?”

“Yes. Along with his wife, brother, sister in law and my in-laws as well as the remaining members of Queen.”

“And how did you know that Kelly had been taken my Steve?”

“Jared had called me from the school and told me that Kelly had already been picked up by someone and after an hour and a half, that’s when I got the call from Steve himself. Telling me to meet him at Bull Creek.”

“And did at any time did you give Steve Harrison full permission to pick up your daughter?”

“No. None of my Rock Angel team had authorization to go to Kelly’s school.” He then pulled out a file of Steve’s forged note with my signature on it that gave him clearance to pick Kelly up.

“Now as you can see here, I hold in my hand the actual documented note of Mr. Harrison’s forged letter of Pick-Up for one Kelly Kline. Her school codes states, that if there isn’t any documentation of said people to pick up the child in question, they must provide a note signed by the parent themselves in order to pick up the child.”

“Objection!” Steve’s DA proclaimed.

“Overruled.” Judge Mayweather stated.

“Knowing this; Mr. Harrison printed out the letter of documented proof that he had access to pick up Kelly Kline. He then forged Mrs. Kline’s signature as you’ll see up close here.” On the overhead projector he had both my real signature and Steve’s forged signature with my name on it. “Now as you can see it’s practically identical. But if you look very closely there is a difference.” He then put a magnifying glass up to my last name.  “You’ll notice how she writes the K with a curved slant at the top right line for the K itself. While on Mr. Harrison’s forged signature the corner line is completely straight.”

“Objection your honor! Everyone writes their signatures slightly different every time. This shows no proof that my client forged her signature.” Steve’s DA proclaimed.

“If I may your honor before I was interrupted by my assistant council, I have more proof on why this letter was not signed by my client.”

“Proceed.” The judge granted him.  He then removed the two comparisons and pulled up a paper where I was forced to give my signature ten times.  

“As you can see here this is my client’s handwritten signature. Now look at the K’s.” he pulled the magnifying glass up to the top corner line to show each one had that exact same curve.  “Each one of her top corners has that slight curve to them. Ten. Times my client has written her name. And all ten times each K had that curve on the top corner. Not once does she alternate how she curves it, or accidentally do a straight slant. Each. Top. Corner. Is curved.” The jurors all looked at each other, some of them nodding.  “So it proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mr. Harrison forged my client’s signature to gain access to her daughter, kidnapping her in order to gain my client’s attention. Forcing her to a remote area where god knows what he could’ve had in mind. But my client isn’t some damsel in distress.” Mr. Barnes turned to look up at me.

“Mrs. Kline you may return to the Prosecutor’s table.” As I stood up and walked down Judge Mayweather called for closing statements. Steve’s DA came up and the fat man stated.

“We all have our obsessions; we all make mistakes. But my client is not insane. He gave Mrs. Kline everything she ever wanted, he kept things professional and it was all due to the paranoia of a celebrity that my client Steve Harrison was bullied, manipulated and forced to take drastic measures to defend himself from the public eye. He is not the villain in this story, he is a victim. And it is up to you, the jury, on who you wish to believe. The money of a celebrity, or the desperate plea of a victim corrupted by the music industry.”

My eyes narrowed at the obese man but I turned my head away as my Prosecutor Mr. Wilson stood up.  The middle aged African American paced the courtroom as he said.

“Celebrities aren’t just about the money. It’s not as easy as we may think it is to get as big as they are. They go through struggles financially, mentally and sometimes physically. Now my client did have help but she had her fair share of struggles. As a young woman in an all-male industry they wanted to change her image, to make her follow the typical female artist crowd of showing too much skin, exploiting themselves. But the Rock Angel refused to let that be her image. And she kept that image strong, but there’s also another risk of being a woman in the spotlight. She’s more likely to attacks. Not because she asks for it because she doesn’t. Steve Harrison saw (Y/n) Kline not as she was trying to be but who she was. A famous person whom he believed belonged to him. He used his uncle’s position as her manager to get close to her, and meticulously planned to worm his way into her life. But when she refused to accept his dominance, he snapped. He stalked, harassed, kidnapped her daughter, and finally attempted to murder him. All because she said the one thing men don’t like a woman to say. No. No she wasn’t going to fall for him, No she wasn’t going to leave her adoring husband and kids for him, No she wouldn’t be his. And Steve Harrison took offense to that. And if he goes free, then what’s to stop other men like him going free that don’t know what the word ‘no’ means?”

Mr. Wilson came back and sat down beside me.  I placed my hand on top of his and he gave me a soft smirk and nod.

“Alright, jurors the decision is all up to you. We’ll reconvene once the jury has reached their verdict.” Soon the 12 jurors left the courtroom as did the rest of us.

Jack, Roger, myself and my legal team were in the court cafeteria drinking some coffee as we waited for the verdict to come in.  Jack and I sat close to each other while Roger sat across from us.  He was currently reading some magazine meanwhile my stomach was tossing and turning.

“Six days and it all comes down to this. God I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Don’t give up just yet baby. With the forged signature and the note they found at his apartment of his plan to shoot you, there’s no way he’s gonna walk scot-free.” He kissed the corner of my lips as we continued to wait.

20 long minutes later and Mr. Barnes’ cellphone rings. He reached in his coat pocket and picks it up.

“Yes?” he straightens himself up. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Alright we’ll be there Sam.” He snaps at us.  “It’s in.” my heart stops as the three of us look at each other and quickly stand up.

Back at the courtroom, everyone is silent as the jurors come back into the room.  The leading female juror, an Asian woman around her mid-40’s held the paper in her hands and handed it to the bailiff.  He walked over to the judge who signed it before giving it back to him. The bailiff walked back to the Asian woman and Judge Mayweather asked.

“What say you?” I held onto Mr. Barnes’ and Mr. Wilson’s hands as tight as I could, my legs were shaking under the desk as I looked at the jury. She looked down at the paper and read out loud.

“In the matter of Steve Harrison vs. New York. We the jury find on the account of attempted 1st degree murder—guilty.” I let out a choked gasp. “On the count of aggravated stalking, we find the defendant……guilty.” At this point tears were pooling under my lashes. “On the count of kidnapping in the 1st degree. Guilty.”

Thank God! He was guilty on all charges! Some people in the crowd even cheered at Steve’s conviction.  On his end, his face dropped entirely as he lowered his head in shame. His DA’s shook their heads in defeat, his lawyer patted his shoulders and whispered to him.

“Then by the state of New York, I hereby sentence Mr. Harrison to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Court is adjourned.” Judge Mayweather stated before banging his gavel once and left the podium.

I hugged Mr. Wilson and thanked him repeatedly.  He embraced me back and congratulated me.  I then turned to Mr. Barnes and embraced him and he gladly embraced me back.  I turned towards Jack and Rog and they were elated with victory.  I went over to Jack and the first thing we did was kiss.

He picked me up and spun me around, our lips still connected with each other’s as Steve was being taken away.  We separated and I made sure to lock my eyes on him and he turned to look at me.  I narrowed my eyes at him and lifted my chin up high, showing him that I wasn’t weak, that he lost and he’d never hurt or even see me or my family ever again.

Soon he disappeared from the room to be transported to the New York penitentiary for attempted murder, aggravated stalking and kidnapping in the 1st degree.

As we left the courtroom, my lawyer James Barnes said to the media that Steve Harrison had been found guilty.

“Mrs. Kline, anything you’d like to say?” before Mr. Barnes could say anything, I placed my hand on his arm and stood before the cameras.

“What happened to me, happens to everyone around the world. Most of the victims are women and some are men. They feel like they’re alone when this happens to them, but they don’t have to be. So this is my message to those who are victims of stalking, assault, or abuse. You are not alone. There are thousands of others like you out there, but if you don’t speak up, you’ll end up one of the millions of unlucky ones that end up dead. Which is why I’m starting up my own organization. ANGELS AGAINST STALKING. To help victims, like me and you, to get the proper care and help you need to protect yourselves. Even when the law can’t do that.”

I walked down the steps of the courthouse with reporters coming after me with follow up questions about my new organization and more on Steve.

But all I did was get into the car and made a phone call to a special friend.  The phone rang a couple times before he answered.

‘Hello?’

“Miami. I need a favor.”

In the next couple of month thanks to some investors that Miami knew, I had set up ANGELS AGAINST STALKING in 3 locations.  One in West London, one in New York, and the other in Tokyo, Japan.  The media was spreading the news of my organization far and wide and I personally saw to it that the Officers who would work there were not only a part of the city’s police, but took the stalking cases seriously.

They were solemnly swore that if a person calls in regularly for someone stalking or threatening them, they need to take it seriously.  If verbal threats were told or they violated a restraining order, they were to take immediate action and give the victim protection.  

A profiler was also assigned to ensure that no one took advantage of this system so that no money needed to be wasted on a false story and an innocent person didn’t have to suffer.  

People who had been stalked in the past were brought in and coached in how to become therapists because no one but a victim would understand what a true victim is going through.

Soon enough by the start of the summer 1994, ANGELS AGAINST STALKING was up and running and phone calls were coming in and donations from any of my concerts would go to this organization to help keep it running and maybe one day the laws would change against stalking and law enforcement would take it seriously instead of brushing it off or accepting bribes from the assailants family.

If there’s anything that this hellish experience has taught me, it’s that you can’t let your attacker, abuser or stalker show them you have lost the battle.  You need to keep fighting, by any means necessary.  Even if law enforcement can’t protect you, find a way to protect yourself.

Surround yourself with loved ones, take self-defense classes, keep those you love closest to you.  Then when the time comes, document what happens and finally show everyone in law enforcement that you were right.

[roxyallnutt]

Reflective journalism Kolb Cycle

The Marshmallow Challenge

Experience It seems only right to reflect on a Creative Technologies experience that left me questioning and reflecting days after the exercise actually took place. “The Marshmallow Challenge is a game for learning about innovation, creativity, teams, collaboration as well as the value of early prototyping and incremental delivery”, Wujec, (2018). I believe that this task sets a good representation of the common issues and challenges faced as designers in the Creative Technologies world.

"It's a simple task", Ricardo explained as he handed each group 15 sticks of raw spaghetti, a metre of masking tape and a baby pink marshmallow. The rules that followed were simple too. Construct the tallest freestanding structure with the resources given within an 18-minute timeframe. I worked in a group of semi unfamiliar faces. Because of this, I felt I had an advantage as there was no familiarity within the group members, there were no limits for expression and ideas due to the diversity and opportunities in a new group.

Firstly, I prefer working in teams like this. As an extroverted person, I enjoy new groups where I can voice issues and options while learning from fresh faces. Within the first five minutes of the challenge, I could pick up that the group was quite diverse in terms of engagement. We were divided between the talkative, the hands-on and the quiet. Our biggest problem was agreeing on what type of base, to begin with, and then worried about the height after. As most of us had no experience in this type of exercise it took a while for us to establish a concept worth pursuing, the time pressure wavering did not help. We began with a quick sketch and small discussion. We aimed for a tripod like frame with height increasing through the middle conjoint. We began with a triangular base which was made to add stability to the tower, then added spaghetti piece after piece to the middle frame. This lead to the final few minutes when the marshmallow was placed on top. Unfortunately, our second biggest issue was the actual placement of the marshmallow. 15 minutes had already passed and our marshmallow was untouched. I guess we figured that it was light and easily manipulated so it wouldn't be an issue. The second the marshmallow was added our structure began to topple to the right. Yikes, what a near miss. In the end, we completed the challenge with a semi-standing structure which we were proud of.

Observations As the timer eventually sounded I sighed in relief. We had a standing structure, but we just knew it wasn't the tallest of the class. I looked around the room to see a coalition of strange misshaped towers, many of which were not standing. I was annoyed with myself when I looked back to our structure. We were so invested in the base footing and time pressure that we seriously lacked in the height aspect and not much support was given to our surprisingly heavy little marshmallow to stand upon.

Tom Wujec (2018), explained: “the Marshmallow is a Metaphor for the Hidden Assumptions of a Project”. The lesson in the marshmallow challenge is that we need to identify the assumptions in our project-the real customer needs, the cost of the product, the duration of the service – and test them early and often. That’s the mechanism that leads to effective innovation.” From the combination of our discussion with Ricardo and readings into Wujec's finding, I understand why this exercise has a deep connection to my studies in BCT. Through the many projects and assignments, I am yet to experience, this exercise has taught me to be wary of each aspect of any project that needs stability and recognition in order for success. Any assumptions made may be the failure point in my design ideation. This was evidently seen by the many groups including us who did not factor in our marshmallow nearly enough.  

In a later class discussion, Ricardo mentioned that "There will always be one that will sit back and take the back-foot". As mentioned before due to our team's diversity there were members that preferred to stay quiet and observe. While the challenge was highly competitive with a whole bag of lollies on the line, I wonder, if the challenge was also implemented to test a fresh team where each member needs to be equally involved. In situations like this exercise, it is very easy to become polarised by the more vocal leader, this was apparent in my group. This aspect restrains potential creativity from quieter members and lacks diversity in group involvement. Pirola‐Merlo, A., & Mann, L. (2004), this study explains how creativity in groups can be impacted by how much each person wants to contribute. I noticed that some members in my group decided to contribute their opinion only after the action was executed. For example, we used small bits of tape to bundle lots of two spaghetti stands together, it wasn't until after this was finished, a member spoke out and asked to complete bundles of 3 with more tape this time. Diversity in groups is important in the creative industries as team members are encouraged to contribute highly to avoid being one track minded by one leader.  An improvement here could have been seen if my group ideated many possible designs together with the contribution from all rather than putting all our focus into one idea.

Reflect Our discussion with Ricardo concluded with the mention of preschool students thriving in this type of challenge environment compared to a class of business students. Basically, give them the same exact conditions for this project and watch as they prototype, refine and execute outstandingly. This made sense to me, pre-schooled students are inaudibly using the creative strategies "asking questions, comparing and contrasting solutions, evaluating solutions". Zachopoulou, E., Trevlas, E., Konstadinidou, E., & Archimedes Project Research Group. (2006). It is interesting to me how as I have grown up these strategies are forgotten and now are being re-established to me in a creative degree. It makes sense for preschool students to excel in exercises like this as their ability to rework and rework is natural to them. Ricardo explained how multiple groups in my class would begin the challenge with their plan, and then follow through from there. Exactly what we did. A method used by myself and my team members daily. "Planning the implementation of a chosen goal, however, poses a problem associated with different task demands." Bayer, U. C., & Gollwitzer, P. M. (2005). We are typically engineered to consider the best way for success in these situations is too diverse a plan and execute accordingly. The greatest take away was to avoid the habit of planning a concept too early in the process and following it exactly. This completely limited our ability to make design changes, when issues arose during the challenge we did not stop and say let's try something new, we rather worked away until that aspect eventually worked for us.

Other skills that I have taken away: I am aware that there are more ways to implement problem-solving. I have also taken away second thoughts to my team contribution strategies. How a better-structured brainstorm or ideation can be facilitated to involve every member of the group rather than lead by one or two people. It is also significant for each team member to have the confidence to spot issues when ideas are going off track and voice them in a non-critical way. A combination of these lessons to take away will become useful in future projects and assignments.

If I can take any main thing away from this challenge it would be that the marshmallow is a metaphor for hidden assumptions of any given project. This is a valuable lesson and one that is sure to be the make or break motive in projects to come I'm certain. I intend to practise the awareness of the marshmallows that are hidden in creative assignments to come.

References:

Wujec, T. (2018). Applying the Marshmallow Challenge in a Research Method.

Pirola‐Merlo, A., & Mann, L. (2004). The relationship between individual creativity and team creativity: Aggregating across people and time

Bayer, U. C., & Gollwitzer, P. M. (2005). Mindset effects on information search in self‐evaluation.

Zachopoulou, E., Trevlas, E., Konstadinidou, E., & Archimedes Project Research Group. (2006). The design and implementation of a physical education program to promote children’s creativity in the early years.

[fletchermarple]

The Confession Tapes (2017)

Have you watched this new Netflix original true crime show? It’s a flawed, but very interesting documentary series that anyone who is interested in true crime should check out.

Like the name suggests, the show created by Kelly Loudenberg focuses on murder cases in which the main piece of evidence that led to a conviction is a taped confession. Along seven episodes, we get to learn about six cases (the first one takes two episodes), mostly through the testimonies of the defendants, defense lawyers, experts, jurors, prosecutors and investigators.

The show teaches you a couple of things. First, this is is one of the reasons it pays off to know about true crime. With the exception of the first case, all of the defendants involved are led to confess through pretty standard psychological techniques that anyone with basic knowledge of police investigations would recognize. Second, experts say that anyone can fall in the trap of giving an involuntary confession, but here you see that they are all vulnerable people with either very low education or low intelligence, who are not aware of their legal rights and don’t have the means to get a lawyer. It’s the same thing we saw in cases like Brendan Dassey and Jessie Misskelley.

Also, weird and inappropriate behavior after a murder will always put you in the list of suspects. Seriously, all these people acted in ways that any regular person would find odd. The guys on the first case went on a spending spree and laughed when asked by the press about the victims, another guy actually went to a strip club less than a day after his girlfriend was beaten to death. 

It’s hard to say if these defendants gave false confessions or are really guilty. In all of the cases there’s at least one clue, confession aside, that makes clear why police focused on them as suspects. I got the feeling that the documentary was trying to point to wrongful convictions, but I don’t think it closes the deal, in part because they are not wasting screen time in investigating further or giving detailed information about the evidence or lack of it. What there is, is presented through the lawyers involved in the case, and we know lawyers can twist the information to suit their narrative.

What it is clear, though, is that in almost every case, it’s the confession that proved to be impossible to ignore by the jury, even when nothing else fit. It’s crazy that some of these confessions are taken seriously when they aren’t supported by the evidence and sometimes even contradicted by it, but paints a scary picture of how far some are willing to go just to close a murder case.

The cases explored are:

Episode 1 and 2, True East: Atif Rafay and his best friend Sebastian Burns are the main suspects in the 1994 horrific killing of Atif’s parents and disabled sister. The two 18 year olds found the trio beaten to death in Atif’s house one night, and apparently had a very strong alibi, but police started suspecting them pretty soon and given how they acted, you can’t really blame them for it. According to the documentary, there’s no physical evidence of their involvement and there was an informant that pointed in another direction, but police still kept their focus on the friends. Because they were canadian citizens, the Canadian police devised a bizarre plot straight out of a bad gangster movie to extract a chilling confession from them.

Episode 3, A Public Apology: Wesley Myers becomes the main suspect in the 1997 death of his girlfriend Theresa Haught, who was burned inside her bar. Despite physical evidence pointing to an unknown man (tested only after the trial), police thinks Myers is their man because he was an alcoholic and he had a tumultuous relationship with the victim. During a long interrogation, they manage to convince him that he’s the murderer, and then he went on to nail his coffin by confessing to both the mother of Theresa and a reporter live, on camera. He later says he’s innocent, but it’s too late.

Episode 4, Trial by Fire: This is a true head scratcher. Karen Boes is accused of deliberately setting a fire in her 14 year old daughter’s room, killing her. However, the documentary claims that Karen left the house 5 minutes before the fire started, and a gas can was found inside the teenager’s room. An arson expert testifies that the fire was started from right outside the girl’s room, the defense’s expert says that’s junk science, and the fire started inside the room (was the girl trying to commit suicide by burning herself? The documentary tells us nothing that would support such a theory). This is also the one case where the “confession” didn’t really seem like one to me, as Karen never openly admits to starting the fire, and it feels like she was convicted over the arson expert’s testimony more than the confession.

Episode 5, 8th and H: It explores the really horrific murder of Catherine Fuller in 1984, beaten and sodomized during an apparent robbery in an alley. Seven black teenagers (the victim was also black, in case you’re wondering) were arrested and tried mostly over the coerced confession of one of them, who was evidently mentally challenged, and another one who got paid each time he was taken in for questioning by police. Meanwhile, a guy who committed a crime very similar to Catherine’s was completely ignored by investigators.

Episode 6, The Labor Day Murders: Two men are found murdered, execution style in a backroad. One of them had 500 in cash taken from his wallet. The guys were involved in some questionable businesses and the list of suspects was insanely long, but in the end police focuses on the nephew of one of the victims. The nephew ends up admitting on tape that he witnessed the murders but didn’t pull the trigger, yet the guy that allegedly shot them is let go because of lack of evidence and the nephew ends up behind bars because of his confession.

Episode 7, Down River: Perhaps the most tragic of all the cases, it tells us the story of Lawrence Delisle, who in 1989 drove his car straight into the Detroit River with his wife and four little kids aboard. He and his wife were able to swim out of the car (although he didn’t know how to swim), but the kids drowned. Lawrence’s version is that it was an accident: his leg was crampy and that the accelerator got stuck. The wife supports his version. Police, however, believe that it was an attempted murder-suicide. The car, after all, was where Lawrence’s father shot himself to death. Why he’d keep it tells you this guy is no ordinary guy. The investigator ends up convincing Lawrence to confess that he deliberately stepped on that accelerator, then he recants. The defense examined the car and indeed it had an issue in which the accelerator got stuck sometimes, yet it was easy to stop the car by removing the key from the ignition. There are a few details that make Lawrence suspicious. One is that he was a mechanic, so he should have been aware of the car’s problem. Second is that the key witness in the trial saw his car three times parked in the spot by the river in the nights leading to the incident, giving credit to the idea that he had scouted the place. This case is particularly interesting because it shows how someone can be tried by the media. The judge didn’t admit the confession in the trial because it was clearly coerced, and at the point of the sentencing he still wasn’t convinced of Lawrence’s guilt. However, the media had widely reported about the content of the confession, so by the time the trial came, all jurors knew about it and clearly considered it in their deliberations.

[ursafilms]

The Nightmare Before Christmas and the Curse of the Oogie-Boogie Set

In between visits by perennially disgruntled The Nightmare Before Christmas employees, a few other adventures awaited me on the production of the movie. One of them actually involved Tim Burton.

He showed up at the studio one morning with Lisa Marie in tow.

Jenny, TNBC’s fab accounting assistant had just poured water into our coffee maker and hit the ‘On’ button. We had an old-fashioned restaurant style system which did not include an automatic shut-off. Tim, in his zeal to get some caffeine into his system made a bee-line for the kitchen.

Before I could intercede, he’d snatched the glass coffee pot off the burner; emptied its contents into a large Styrofoam cup; added milk and/or sugar before placing the pot back to catch the remaining coffee.

Tim and the strikingly beautiful Lisa Marie disappeared to their confab with Kathleen Gavin, our producer and Henry Selick, TNBC’s director.

I turned back to survey the damage.

Me: “Jen, the best Smiley Face I can put on this one, is that Tim Burton is one intense and focused individual.”

Jen: “You want the counter or the carpet?”

Me: “The carpet. It will take longer and delay my inevitable daily public stoning in front of The Big Board at the hands of the animators.”

Jen: “Oh come on. It’s not that bad. They don’t stone you every day.”

Me: “That’s true. Sometimes they do it twice.”

****

The next incident involved the late night stage inspections, of which I became a part after Jackie, the former head of scheduling, left on maternity leave and I moved from stage management (ahem) to the production department.

The production department split up the responsibility of doing one final late night walk-through of the stages among the entirety of the staff, which now included me. We wanted to share the pain of 14 hour days equally. Okay, they did. I might have. I can’t remember.

Before finishing their shift, one production person checked on the stages and made sure the animators, some of whom did work very late, had everything they needed to finish a shot or at least continue one.

Along with everyone in the production department, I pulled that duty once a month. Most of the inspections were fairly routine and involved finding a missing prop or getting animators tape, paint, or glue. They were a very self-sufficient bunch, used to working long hours on their own, but a last check-in did help expedite the process.

During one of my late night shifts I walked the main studio, which included the Roulette Wheel set, the one used for the final confrontation between Jack and Oogie-Boogie. It occupied the largest stage in the complex. The exact dimensions escape me, but about half the set lived on a couple pieces of secured plywood whose length and width exceeded that of a King-sized bed.

Which turned out to be a very appropriate comparison.

Now would be a good time to explain the physical rigors of stop-motion animation. Anyone trained in this particular artform has to be in relatively good shape. I’ve never seen a fat animator. Okay, that’s not true. I’ve seen plenty of fat animators. They sit on their behinds and push a mouse, pencil, or joystick around and make pretty pictures on a monitor.

The qualification I make is I’ve never seen a fat stop-motion animator.

One of TNBC’s animators, in particular, would rise everyone morning at 6am and do an hour of plyometrics before coming into work. Another one studied martial arts. One of them, an artist from Boston, had to be one of the most athletic people I’d ever met. Had he not gone into animation, I believe he could have excelled at professional sports.

It’s a very physical job. A lot of crawling, climbing, clutching, and lifting.

All this might go so far as to excuse me for not paying nearly enough attention to the heavy breathing I heard coming from the roulette wheel set. And if not for the apparent sounds of twosets of rhythmic and intense respiration, I’d have walked into quite a performance. Common sense took over and just before I yanked back the closure of black curtains that surrounded all the stages, I withdrew my hand and stepped back.

But not quite quickly enough.

Panting Individual: “Anyone out there?”

Me: “Uh. No?”

Continually Panting Individual: “Is anyone out there?”

Me: “I’ll come back later.”

Still Panting Individual: “I don’t need anything.”

Me: “Evidently.”

Really Panting Individual: “What was that?”

Me: “I’ll go check on Steve and the Sleigh flying rig.”

Several animators wondered if production forgot about them that evening. I fled the scene and skipped a few stages, hoping that the independent buggers could get along without someone to fetch them 1” white camera tape for a night.

For a week I avoided the couple I speculated occupied Motel Oogie-Boogie on that particular evening. Not easy to do in a facility with 100 workers, all of whom knew each other right down to their personal lives. A conversation with a coworker or two about my possible voyeurism didn’t make it high on the list of things to do during the workday.

****

That particular Oogie-Boogie roulette wheel set had a curse on it. A few days after the Things Go Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump In The Night episode, one of our quantum physics degreed camera operators decided to drive their brand new motion control rig from Stage 1 to Stage 20.

In defense of our own Doctor Einstein, his next assignment did take place on Stage 20. However, driving a contraption of speed rail, welded metal plates, block and tackle from the 1700s ship-building industry, and a motorized Worrall head through the Escher-like construction of Skellington AT NIGHT however, might not have been the best plan. Throw in the duvetyne which wrapped everything on the stage floor in a black shroud of grim death and the only place more dangerous to take a spin on four wheels might be a Demolition Derby on ABC’s Wide World of Sports.

[Whoa! Look at that, Jim. Hunter McQueen just backed his Brinks Armored Vehicle overthe Yugo driven by the former Jimmy “The Bohunk” Abramowitz!]

[Yes that is something, John!]

But don’t let common sense interfere with a joyride in the middle of the night . . . on a pitch black studio floor . . . with hundreds of thousands of dollars of equipment and gear in the way . . . and millions of dollars of set pieces, props, and puppets on display.

The following is the chagrined personal account of said cameraman and the production assistant on rounds. I was not on duty that evening. Follow the layout of Skellington Studios below this posting.

The camera operator took off from Stage 1 and worked the Motion Control rig down one of the narrow alleyways on the studio floor. The stages did lay out in a surprising form of organized numbering. Stages 1 through 7 were on the right hand side of the studio as you drove from front to back, and Stages 8 through 13 sat on the left.

14 through 20, or the Auxiliary Stages, were in the far reaches of Skellington and defied such military regimentation. As such we had an overhead of the stages that I used until I memorized where they were. Several thousand trips to each working set will embed their whereabouts in your brain.

Back to the accident about to happen.

The motion control rig, far from street ready, managed to avoid any collisions, despite the lack of definition in the field of vision of the driver, until it got to near the end of its initial journey through the first thirteen stages. Just before the safety of open space, which lay just on the other side of the drapery that divided the two sets of stages, the motion control rig crashed into a corner of the Oogie-Boogie Roulette Wheel set.

A six inch protrusion of a corner of the set extended into the narrow alleyway. Invisible due to its camouflage of black duvetyne. An additional piece of plywood had been added to allow the animator to keep certain tools and materials close at hand.

Or, perhaps the amorous couple of a few nights back needed a little extra room to move around. We will never know.

Whatever the reason, the MoCon (That’s film lingo.) rig had inadvertently committed one of the several zillion cardinal sins of stop motion animation known as unnecessary or un-filmed movement.

It causes horrific things to happen when such events occur such as Oogie-Boogie moving six feet in perspective without any known purpose and against all the laws of physics. The shot, to this juncture, might be ruined.

The fallout and possible solutions.

1.     The animator can kill the camera operator and be found not guilty due to justifiable homicide. Also included would be the subsequent dismantling and melting down of the MoCon rig. The entire camera department would be forced to attend this event.

2.     The animator can commit suicide, greatly reducing his productivity ongoing.

3.     The shot, already 360 frames into a 720 frame extravaganza, can be restarted. This request would precipitate #2.

4.     Phil Lofaro works on a brilliant solution. He sends the finished 360 frames to Disney. They send back specs to line up the set in its original position. The animator starts from frame 361, and Disney’s editorial staff is prepared to make further micro adjustments in post.

Strangely, as much as we wanted to see the camera operator dispatched and the cursed MoCon rig turned into scrap, we opted for #4.

Courtesy Reminder: When I said Phil Lofaro could do anything, I was not joking. The shot continued on schedule. It finished on time and looked great. If another performance of the Posturepedic Polka occurred on the Oogie-Boogie set, I was not the one to hear it.

And really, you two. That Roulette Wheel had a surface like an Iron Maiden.

Ick.