The smell of the emergency room brought back memories to Brian. He was still unable to talk yet, still drained from the convulsions.
"Hi Brian, I'm Dr. Frank," the tall, dark skinned man stated as he proceeded to poke and prod Brian's stomach and feel his neck. "Are you able to communicate?"
Brian shook his head "no." God, at least I can still do that, Brian thought to himself.
"Okay, do you know if someone followed you in?" Dr. Frank asked.
Brian nodded. He knew that Kevin had left as they were putting him into the ambulance.
"Bring that person in, I need to get some answers about this patient!" The doctor barked at the nurse that was standing next to the cot.
Within a few minutes, Kevin was standing next to Brian, the concern was evident in his face. Brian wanted to tell Kevin to relax and not to worry, but was frustrated that he was unable to.
Dr. Frank immediately pumped questions at Kevin regarding Brian, but appeared to be especially confused when Kevin pulled three vials of medications that were prescribed for Brian by Dr. Johnson.
Taking the vials from Kevin, Dr. Frank turned them over and over, evidentially looking for the names of the drugs.
"What are these for?"
"Dr. Johnson said something about helping the central nervous system. The purple vial was the last thing she injected Brian with and she said I was supposed to give it to him every twelve hours," Kevin pointed at the bottle when he mentioned it.
Dr. Frank handed all of the vials to the nurse that was standing beside him. "I want tests done on all of these, STAT. I also want a CPK9 test run on the patient."
"Right away, doctor," the nurse replied.
"What's a CPK9?" Kevin asked, he felt that Brian would want to know too.
"It's a specific blood test, telling us the types of medications that are in his system. Based on that information plus the results of the reports on the meds, we should be able to pinpoint as to what caused Brian's seizures.
The door creaked open, loudly. A light shone on Nick, laying on the concrete floor. Looking up at the door, Nick blinked his eyes until they adjusted to the light.
"Time's up, Carter," the guard stated sharply to Nick.
Nick slowly stood up, suprised at how rubbery his legs felt when he stood up.
"How long?" Nick asked, his voice hoarse from not talking.
"What?" The guard asked as he closed the door after Nick passed through it.
Nick licked his dry lips, he was thirsty. "How long have I been in there?"
"You were in the hole for three days, Carter. Lucky for you Davis felt sorry cause you'd been in there for five," the guard replied.
Three days? Nick thought to himself. It thought it only seemed like a day and then decided that he must have slept the whole time he was in there. Being in total darkness, he was unable to tell if it was day or night.
Nick was relieved when the guard told him that they would be stopping to pick up clean coveralls and a towel. They stopped back at his cell on the way to the shower so Nick could grab his personal items.
Once he was in the shower, Nick stood under the hot flowing water, eyes closed, savoring every minute of it. He got used to knowing that someone was always there, watching them in the shower. At first he felt funny and humiliated about it, but now it was a part of life that he had no control over. A five minute shower was too short to worry over someone watching you, he had decided.
Nick was escorted back to his cell after he got dressed. Sitting on the bed, his thoughts once again returned to Brian, wondering if he was okay and how he was progressing. Depression was starting to overtake him and he was growing sleepy. As he laid down, the door opened.
"Carter, you got a visitor, follow me," Joe, the trustee, stated.
Nick sat up and quickly walked to the "pat down" room so he could be searched before he found out who the visitor was. Entering the room, Nick obediently held his arms out to the sides and stood and waited.
Once the guard finished, Nick was directed to sit in bay one. He took a seat on the hard stool and waited anxiously for his visitor. He was hoping it would be Kevin again or one of the other guys for that matter. Someone that could assure him that Brian was alive and well.
Seeing the briefcase being set on the table on the other side of the thick glass, Nick knew that this wasn't going to be a social visit, he attorney had come.
They both picked up the tan communication phones simultaneously.
"How's Brian?" Nick blurted out.
"Brian is doing better," the attorney replied.
"How much better is better?" Nick persisted.
"He's talking now."
The attorney's vagueness was starting to get on Nick's nerves. "He was talking before, tell me what's going on here!" Nick demanded, slamming a fist onto the counter.
Hearing Nick slam the counter, the guard walked up to Nick.
"It's okay, just back off," Nick hissed.
"Keep that tone up and your visit will be done," the guard warned Nick.
Nick could feel the heat in his face and his heart racing, he swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself down. He then nodded and the guard walked back towards the wall next to the door.
"Let me discuss with you what I'm here for and then I'll talk about Brian, okay?" The attorney quietly spoke.
Nick nodded.
"Alright, the trial will be starting in two weeks. It is your right as a defendant to be there for jury selection, but I am concerned because of your celebrity status that it would be difficult to find an impartial jury," the attorney began.
"We don't have too much of a choice," Nick replied.
"I am dropping off dress clothes for the trial for you to wear. Your mother went to your house and brought them to me." As the attorney spoke, he thumbed through some papers.
Upon hearing what his mother had done for him, Nick fought back the tears that were filling his eyes. He felt bad to have to put her through that humiliation.
"Do you have any questions, Nick?"
Nick shook his head "no."
"Alright, now about Brian. He had a seizure four days ago."
Nick's mouth dropped open.
The attorney held his hand up to stop Nick from interrupting him. "We wanted to catch Dr. Johnson with tainted medications and we had a plan to catch her. I told Brian it was too risky but he insisted on doing anything possible to help you get out of jail. The tests aren't back yet, but we are suspecting that the medication that Dr. Johnson used caused his seizure."
"How could he be so stupid, he shouldn't have done that," Nick spat out.
"Nick he did it because he wants to help you. One of the things he told Kevin before the doctor came was that whatever happened not to worry, it was a risk he was willing to take for you."
Nick sat, staring at the attorney, feeling numb. "How is he now?"
"He's doing much better. They are having him do physical therapy and he's starting to walk short distances and he is also talking too. He's going to be just fine Nick," the attorney tried to reassure him.
Trying to keep from crying, Nick set his jaw and nodded.
The attorney sensed that Nick was upset and wanted to be alone to deal with his emotions. "Nick, I'll be seeing you next week, we will be starting the jury selection then. Take care, okay?"
Nick nodded. "Thanks."
Nick kept pulling at his collar and adjusting the waistband on the dress clothes he was wearing for the trial. They felt itchy, he wasn't used to having clothes this nice against his skin. Shoes even felt like they were restictive, the slippers he had worn since May had grown to be old friends now.
The door was opened to his cell, making a loud banging noise.
"Come on, Carter, show time," the guard joked.
Nick half smiled at the guard, he was always picking on him about his celebrity status and today was not the day to joke.
He walked down the hall, on the opposite side of the yellow line, his head down. He prayed that this trial would be over today, but Nick knew deep down inside that this could last for weeks, his attorney even said to be prepared for spending possibly six weeks in trial.
They stopped at a set of barred doors. The guard buzzed the door open and Nick and the guard stepped inside. The door closed behind them and Nick held his arms out, palms upward and waited for the guard to slap the cold silver handcuffs on his wrists. He then took shackels and put one on each of his ankles and ran a heavy metal chain around Nick's waist and attached it to the shackles and then upwards onto the handcuffs. Once he was satisfied that everything was properly in place, he nodded at the guard on the other side of the bars to buzz the door open.
Walking down the hall in the shackles left Nick with limited movement, his steps were small and slow. They stopped at the gates at the end of the hall.
"Carter, 29578635," the guard stated.
The man on the other side of the bars wrote the information on the clipboard and passed it throught the bars. Nick's guard signed off responsiblity of him and the new guard took the clipboard back and buzzed the door open.
He guided Nick out through the door. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes, he sqinted as he looked at the van sitting there waiting to transport him to the courthouse.
"In ya go, Carter," the guard commanded as he heaved the side door open.
Nick obediently took his seat and waited as the guard ran the chains through the bolts on the floor and seat.
As they headed down the highway, Nick felt his stomach knot up. He knew there would more than likely be media there, taking pictures. He dreaded the thought. He dreaded more thinking that his family could possibly be sitting in the courtroom. He told Kevin and his attorney that he didn't want his family there. He hoped that they would abide by his wishes.
Nick's worst fears were realized as the van pulled up to the inmate entrance of the courthouse. There were television cameras, reporters, photographers anyone you could possibly imagine was there. Nick wished there were some way he could duck into the courthouse without being seen. He knew that was wishing for too much.
The guard slid open the side door to the van and set about his tast of unhooking the chains from the floor and the seat. Nick reluctantly got out of the van, his head hanging down, not making eyecontact with anyone.
"NICK! ARE YOU GUILTY OR INNOCENT?" "HOW'S BRIAN?" "HAS ANY BSB COME TO SEE YOU IN JAIL?"
The questions were thrown out to Nick from the moment he left the security of the van. Nick kept his head down and walked as fast as he dared with the shackels on.
He felt relieved when the entered the courthouse. The guard held open the solid wooden doors leading to the courtroom where the trial was to be in. It was extremely quiet in the courtroom, every seat was taken. The judge was not in yet or the jury. Nick thought the chains sounded louder than normal and winced at the noise they were making.
Then he saw them. His heart sank and the tears filled his eyes. Nick quickly diverted his gaze from the seat that his parents occupied. He bit his bottom lip, hoping to keep his emotions in check. Once they reached the table where he was to sit at, the guard removed the shackels and the cuffs and chains.
Nick instinctively rubbed his wrists. He sat with his hands folded on the table because he knew that he had to keep his hands in view at all times. He tried to recall if he saw anyone besides his parents, but couldn't think of anyone. He didn't see any of the guys. Nick figured they were busy caring for Brian at his home.
The jury entered the room, it was seven women and five men. They quietly took their seats in the jury box. The people that were selected ranged in ages from twenty-three to fifty-six and various employment backgrounds.
A man dressed in a police uniform entered the room.
"Court is now in session, please rise for the Honerable Judge Marks," he bellowed.
Nick quietly stood up with his attorney. The judge wearing the traditional black robe entered the room. He appeared to be a tall, slight built man in his middle fifties.
"Please be seated," the judge stated.
"Matter is the State of Florida versus Carter, number 29578635. Is the defendant present?" The judge peered over his glasses at Nick and his attorney.
Nick knew that this was one of the times he was requested to speak.
"Yes sir," his voice was low and quiet.
"You have to speak up, the recorder can't pick you up if you mumble," the judge reprimanded Nick.
Nick took a deep breath in. "Yes sir."
"You have been accused in the crimes of murder in the death of a home care provider Mark David Livingston and attempted murder of a Brian Thomas Littrell. How do you plead?" The judge again peered over his glasses at Nick.
"Not guilty," Nick stated with a strong voice.
The trial was dragging out for several days, with the prosecution presenting their case first. The evidence that they showed the jury didn't look favorable for Nick. It was if they were working with Dr. Johnson, only believing what she was telling them, not looking beyond that.
The final two witnesses to the defense were going to be called after their lunch break. Nick had to sit at the table and wait for the jury to be dismissed and leave the courtroom before he could be handcuffed and removed.
Nick was led to the holding cell, which was a small, white room with a table and a chair. Rick, the guard stayed in the room with Nick until the court was ready to resume.
"This isn't something I'm supposed to be doing, but my daughter, Angie is crazy about you, could I get your autograph Nick?" Rick asked as he shoved a piece of paper and a pen towards Nick.
Nick looked at the paper and pen on the wooden table and chuckled at the irony of the stituation. "Why would anyone possibly want an autograph of mine when I sit in this hole?"
"Hey, don't sell yourself short, kid, those fans out there believe in you and they know that you're innocent. Hell, I think you're innocent too. I mean the evidence they are providing is pretty damn overwhelming, but like my Angie keeps telling me, Brian is Nick's best friend and best friends don't do things like that."
Nick picked up the pen and signed, "To Angie, keep the faith - Nick"
Rick took the paper and neatly folded it in fourths and tucked it into his front shirt pocket. "Thanks Nick, you just made a little girl's day."
Nick smiled faintly. It had been pretty hard for him to smile about much of anything lately.
Rick answered the door when there was a small knock on it. It was Nick's lunch tray. It was the only thing about going to court that Nick liked.
Today's tray had a hamburger and french fries and a soda. Every bite tasted like heaven to Nick. After having grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for months on end, a tuna fish sandwich would be enjoyable and Nick hated tuna fish.
A knock on the door signaled that lunch was over. Nick shoved the rest of the fries in his mouth and guzzled the remainder of the soda.
"Come on, Nick, it's time to go back," Rick said as he placed the handcuffs back on Nick's wrists.
