|Philander Gentry (notsogenteel) wrote in dalton_rpg,|
@ 2011-01-10 18:46:00
|Entry tags:||! thread, @ character: austin gray, character: philander gentry, status: complete|
Who: Austin & Phil
Where: Psychology/Sociology classroom
What: Let’s talk to a responsible adult about our repressed memories, kids!
When: Monday, January 10th, lunchtime
An untouched tray of food sat upon a front row desk, left behind by Phil as he fetched the letter from his locker. Pounding footsteps clomped against the shimmering floors. Phil rounded the threshold of the door and presented Austin the crinkled letter, the creases hiding faint discoloration. Centered above the sharp ink was an official stamp. Beneath were scarce details about the case being examined. It was referred to by number and not a name, and the nature of the trial was left vague in regards to the charges: First-degree murder.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do; I haven’t even served jury duty yet.”
Austin had been sitting on his desk, literally sitting on his desk, when Phil walked into the room with a letter in hand. Curiously, Austin took it and gave it a read. He frowned when he saw the charges.
"You going to tell me what happened?" He asked
Phil gave a shrug. He’d already fetched the letter, so there really was no turning back. “I... Christ. When I was in middle school, I got caught up in some bad crowds. I hung around shady places back in Columbus. And it was around when I was 13 - I don’t remember much, other than the fact that the cops took me to the precinct and I answered some questions.”
“You don’t remember much?” Austin’s eyebrows creased, “How’s that supposed to help them on the stand?”
“Hell if I know... I guess I have to start remembering, don’t I? Apparently I was the only one around; I must have seen it happen.” Phil buried his face in his hands. “Now I feel like I’m under some kind of obligation.”
“Just tell them the truth. That’s your only job.” Austin said, and clapping Phil’s shoulder. “It’ll all be over soon.”
Phil looked up and gave a half-smile. “All right. And Plan B, I fake the stomach flu?”
Austin smirked, “See you’re feelin’ better already.”
The situation was unfortunate, no kid should have this hanging over their heads, especially a kid who doesn’t even remember it. “Look, just relax, whatever happens, it’s got nothin’ on you.” It sounded like a truama induced memory problem. Forgetting because it was too horrible...if they so much as trigger something, it could all be really overhwelming for the kid in a very short time.
There are bound to be a million triggers in that court room.
Austin gave the kid a solemn but supportive look.
Phil took a deep breath and let it out. He felt a bit better which was better than nothing. Small steps. “Yeah. I know. Thanks, man. I’ll... what should I do, though? Your exam is on that day. I still have to talk to my English teacher, too.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Austin told Phil, waiving it away, “We’ll reschedule, it’ll be fine.”
There was a pause as Austin considered telling Phil. It would be wrong to send the kid in there unprepared.
“Phil, the thing about repressed memories...” He started, “They can be triggered, and considering you’re going to be in a court room, it’s pretty likely that memories will begin to flood into you. You should be ready for that and try not to get too overwhelmed. And don’t let the lawyers intimidate you.”
Grateful that he’d get an extension from Austin at the very least, Phil cracked another weak smile. He looked off to the side and nodded to show that he was listening. The possibility scared him but at the same time, he couldn’t deny his intrigue. What the hell was so bad that he couldn’t remember at will?
“If anything does come back, I have to tell them. Perjury’s serious business, too, isn’t it?”
“Yeah” Austin nodded, “but you gotta be careful, the thing about memories are that they can be distorted. The recollection of the event based on the evidence and what the lawyers are saying to you may distort your memory” He stated, “so watch that.”
It was a serious problem, Austin didn’t want him to believe in a fictional memory, that kind of trauma could seriously upset the balance in someone’s brain.
Phil made a face. “Wait. So I should just say nothing. Plead the fifth ‘cause they’re wasting my time.” He groaned and dropped his head back into his hands. “I don’t know. I could’ve done it. All I remember is the blood...”
“The fifth amendment only applies to the person being prosecuted.” Austin explained, “So you can’t plead the fifth. What I’m saying is that the court should give you a full psych evaluation before they call you as a witness. If the defending lawyer is good, he’ll have a psychologist on hand to debunk you.”
Phil shrugged. “I’ll bring that up. But what if they find nothing wrong with me? Actually, some part of me wants to sit in on the trial anyway, just to see if they find anything out. Closure. You know?” He was afraid, definitely, but morbid curiosity won out.
“Yeah I get it.” Austin shifted to a more casual position. “Look, just tell them what you know. Tell them what you remember. And the lawyers are full of shit, don’t listen to their big talk. They’re gonna wanna try to scare you.”
Lawyers were full of crap; the justice system wasn’t about finding the truth, it was about throwing anyone who looked funny behind bars for a false peace of mind. Phil stared at the floor, knowing that the odds were low. “Got it. Don’t worry. I’ll make it out of there alive; I want to pass your classes at the least.”
“Try not to stress too much kid. Sleep well the night before, eat a nice breakfast, and go to court with a clear mind.”
Taking the advice to heart, Phil promised, “I won’t think too hard. Bed at nine. Healthy meal. Maybe I’ll get Mom to drive me. The last thing I need is to run into some idiot on the road.”
Austin nodded, “Truer words have never been spoken.”