Gilbert requested Allen to make a motion for dismal of the charges against him at the pre-trial. Allen said such an action would be futile; the prosecution was aiming to put total blame on Gilbert for the massacre, and would appeal if the Judge did decide to dismiss the case. Based on the media attention, and debates going on over Gilbert’s indictment, it was obvious he was going to have to face a jury.
“The only thing you’re able to do now is say that your plea of not guilty,” Allen said to Gilbert during their private meeting right before the pre-trial. “What I’ll do is make a motion to get your bail dropped, and your ass out of that jail cell. If not, then I’ll make a motion to get the ridiculous cost of your bail down to a fair and sensible amount.”
“Whatever the amount is dropped down to,” Gilbert said, “I still couldn’t afford it, unless it turns out to end up being sixty bucks.”
Allen smiled and giggled.
He said, “Whatever it turns out to be, someone on the outside might end up paying it.”
“Like who?” Gilbert inquired.
“Well, the LOL has set up a crowd fund on their website, taking in donations for your defense so I can get paid. But don’t worry, Gilbert, if the bail is changed to a reasonable amount, I’ll take it upon myself to have the crowd fund pay for your release.”
“Wow, thank you, Allen. I hope to return the favor one day.”
“No need to thank me. There are other ways to acquire financial assistance out of this situation you’re in.”
“Like what, man?”
Allen looked directly into Gilbert’s eyes, raised his hands in front of him, close to each other, then spread them apart, like Moses parting the Red Sea.
He said, enunciating each word, “Television interviews.”
“You really get paid for that shit?” Gilbert asked, surprised at the notion.
“If you’re not in custody, and if the demand is high enough, the news networks, magazines and newspapers — hell, even documentarians looking for a trending subject — will be bidding on your ass.”
“That’s just weird, Allen.”
At the pre-trial Gilbert sat beside Allen still wearing the prison uniform, handcuffed, and remaining silent. After his outburst during the bail hearing in Oregon he learned his lesson. It was better to have the professionals do their talking. Any actions he’d attempt at that point, whether it were yelling curses and damnations, or punching the robotic bailiff standing directly behind him, would just make things more difficult.
“The defendant, Gilbert Vergo, is charged with being an accessory to the mass shooting at the residence of Zion Fraternity in Shaker Krista,” the Judge said. “Who’s representing the State in his prosecution?”
A blond man in his mid-thirties, wearing a gray suit with a blue tie stood up. Gilbert saw the man brushing the blue tie with his finger tips as he was standing up straight.
Why do business-types do that? Gilbert wondered in his mind. Do they think it might fall off? If it’s a clip-on, it might.
“Stanley Fenway, your honor,” the blond man said, “District Attorney for San Louis Obispo.” He then sat back down.
“And who’s representing the defendant?” the Judge inquired.
Allen stood, and said, “Allen Johnson, your honor, Attorney at Law.”
“How does your client plead?”
“Not guilty, your honor. And, if I may, would like to make a motion.”
“You may, Mr. Johnson.”
“I ask that Mr. Vergo’s bail be dropped, and released from incarceration on his own recognizance.”
Stanley Fenway stood up, and said, “Your honor, due to the severity of the crime committed at Shaker Krista, and the foreknowledge he had of the event, I object to even the consideration of allowing the defendant to walk the streets. He may go on the run. Also I have information that he is a drunk. He’ll probably be too hungover to make it court on time.”
“I’m no drunk,” Gilbert muttered.
Realizing he thought out loud, he immediately put his hands over his mouth.
The Judge shot him an angry, disapproving look.
He said, “Mr. Vergo, I heard what you said to the Judge up there in Oregon. You won’t dare speak in such a manner like that to me.”
Gilbert lowered his hands, then whispered, “Sorry, your honor.”
Speaking to Allen, the Judge said, “I deny your motion to drop Mr. Vergo’s bail, and his release. But what I will drop is the cost for his bail. I’ll set it at twenty-five thousand. Mr. Vergo will face trial by jury. That is all.”
“Don’t worry, Gilbert,” Allen said, “you’ll be on the outside in no time. I’ll make a call to the LOL. See how the crowd fund is going.”
Before being escorted out of the courtroom by the bailiff, Gilbert said, “Every time you say ‘the LOL,’ I find it harder and harder to take them seriously.”
The next day Gilbert sat on his bed in the jail cell reading the novel Lord of the Flies by William Golding that Allen gave to him at his request. A guard knocked on the cell door. Gilbert looked up from the book and saw the guard staring at him through the window.
The guard said, “You got a visitor. Come with me.”
The door slid open.
“Who is it?” Gilbert asked.
“I don’t know,” the guard replied, motioning him to exit the jail cell.
They entered the visiting room. At that moment there were no other inmates at any of the booths.
“Number seven,” the guard informed.
Gilbert walked to where the visiter was waiting for him, not able to see who it was because of the partitions. Arriving at booth number seven, seeing who was sitting behind the glass, he shook his head in disappointment, as well as disbelief.
Blair stared up at him with worried eyes.
He slowly sat on the stool, not looking at her, then picked up the phone receiver, almost disinterested in her presence. He finally looked into her face when he put the phone receiver to his ear. With some haste she picked up her side’s receiver.
“Hello, Gilbert,” she said.
“Long time, no goddamn see,” Gilbert said with a pissed off attitude.
“I know, um, I’m sorry.”
“Blair, no need to apologize. If ditching me without giving any reason was what you wanted to do, then there’s no need to comfort me. I accept the fact I don’t possess the power of persuasion over other people’s decisions, nor would I want to. It’s not in my nature. I should be apologizing for calling you so many times, and leaving those disrespectful messages. I’m sorry about that. It’s just my hearts never been broken before.” Gilbert spoke these words with a straight poker face.
“I know,” Blair said, sighing. “I deserve the sarcasm.”
“Who says I’m being sarcastic, Blair? I’m serious. Look how serious I am.” Then Gilbert yelped, “I’M IN JAIL!”
Wincing at Gilbert’s shrill yell coming out of the receiver, Blair pulled it away from her ear a few inches.
Gilbert took his phone receiver away from his ear as well and put the back of his hand over his mouth to calm himself, and maybe keep from crying. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, then held the receiver back up to his ear.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “This past week hasn’t been one I want to remember.”
“It’s okay, Gilbert, I understand.”
There was a moment of silence as Gilbert seemed to look for the right words to say.
“It’s been hard,” he said finally. “I really don’t know what to make of all this. It’s like I went to bed in my room, then woke up in the middle of an arena, surrounded by a screaming mob, and they’re angry with me, and I don’t have a fucking clue why. Not the slightest idea. I’ve been told why I’m in jail, but the explanation they gave me still hasn’t gotten through to me.”
“You’re all over the news,” Blair said.
Gilbert decided to change the subject.
“Why did you up and leave like that?” he asked.
Blair’s head lowered, rubbing her hand over her forehead, and sniffling, almost beginning to cry.
Looking back at Gilbert, she said, “I just felt I had to move on. My life with you just felt so stagnant, basically lifeless.”
“You could’ve talked to me,” Gilbert said, “we could’ve worked it out. You can’t just give up like that. Doing things like that hurts others. When you were suddenly gone, all I felt was pain.”
“Anything I would have said to you wouldn’t have made a difference,” Blair said, pointing her finger at him. “You are steadfast, which is a good thing when it comes to your loving commitment to our relationship, but when it came to changing your lifestyle for the betterment of your mental and spiritual health, you wouldn’t do a damn thing.” She became a little more irate, but keeping her voice low. “Not a FUCKING thing.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I guess I still love you, you fucking dumbshit,” Blair replied, nonchalant.
Gilbert could not help himself from grinning with glee.
“And by coincidence,” Blair continued, “I now work for the LOL. I’m here to inform you we’re going to pay your bail. The crowd fund for your defense has reached just over eighty grand. You have a lot of support out there.”
“Oh, so you moved to California to work for the LOL.”
“No. Their headquarters is located in Austin, Texas,” Blair corrected. “I moved to Texas.”
“That’s one big change of scenery,” Gilbert commented. “What the fuck you do for them?”
“I operate the camera when the journalists go out into the field to do interviews and on-location reports.”
“Cool,” Gilbert said. He started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Blair asked, somewhat confused, and maybe a little concerned too. She must have thought Gilbert’s mental state was becoming a bit screwy.
“You left me for the LOL,” Gilbert replied, still laughing.
“I needed to get out to the world, Gilbert. You know explore. I got lucky enough to get a job with the LOL.”
“How did you manage that?” Gilbert asked.
“I wrote a passionate e-mail where I expressed my wholehearted devotion to exposing corruption, abuse of power, and the dissemination of the American citizen’s basic constitutional rights. I included a link to my youtube channel. They liked it enough to give me a job.”
“I didn’t know you had a youtube channel.”
“You were never interested in the things I did. You’re the one that got me into thinking beyond the norm of how to perceive the world. Remember? The way you always explained things to me. You influenced me to look closer.”
“I was just trying to impress you, Blair.”
“Well, it worked. You got in my pants, and my spirit was rejuvenated. You just didn’t change.”
“My blooming flower,” Gilbert said with puppy dog eyes.
“Stop being flirty. It’s time you and I be professional from now on. There’s one catch with the LOL paying your bail, as well as hiring Allen Johnson.”
“What’s the catch, Ms. Bloom?”
“That I document you the entire time you’re on trial. Since I know you, my bosses have asked that I not only film you, but interview you. Well, I should say, film our conversations. It can’t be anything about our personal relationship, Gilbert. If we do talk about us, it’ll be cut out of the final documentary.” Blair leaned closer to the glass. “How does that sound? You willing to be the main subject in a documentary film?”
“Yes,” Gilbert said without hesitation. “Sounds like the funnest thing to do while I’m having the worst experience most never have in their lifetime.”
“Good,” Blair said, more chipper. “You’ll be released by the end of the day.”
On his way back to his cell, Gilbert was in a mood he hadn’t been in since the day Blair moved out of the apartment.
“I see you had a good visit,” the guard said. “First time I’ve seen you smile since you’ve been here.”
“Yes, sir,” Gilbert said, looking at the guard. “She said she still loves me.”
As soon as his jail cell closed, Gilbert leaped on top of his bed, shook his hips back and forth, pumping his fists up and down, and as best he could, containing the excitement within himself by holding his breath.
Ultra-tripleX Vlog# 13: Personalis Certamen
“Hey there, Ultra-tripleX here. I have some good news. I now have two subscribers on my channel. Even though you’re the only ones viewing my videos so far, I will not be deterred from continuing to upload new content. Please, my only fans, out in the world somewhere, do share my work with friends and loved ones. I am doing this with good intentions. Oh, and to the subscriber Link2Jay, thank you for the e-mail. I am eternally grateful of your admiration for what I am expressing. Glad we share a common ground about the struggles our kind goes through in this era we are born into. Which brings me to a point I want to make with this video: The Struggle. I wonder, has anyone ever thought about the struggles our oldest ancestors had to bear with in the days before technological advantages? And I’m not talking about computers, planes, sailing ships, hammers and chisels, or even the ability to create a fire. I’m talking about when humans finally were able to adapt to their environment, and somehow had the desire to leave their established home, choosing to cross deserts to explore what the rest of the world had to offer. Can you imagine all the harsh elements of those new environments those people had to survive? One place ended up being another desert, while another was just too goddamn cold. A land could be a fertile, and beautiful place, but the predators of the animal kingdom made it too dangerous in obtaining the good food. Adaptation was the key, leading human beings to live in almost any place on the planet, except underwater, of course. People these days are too damn interested in their own personal cultures rather than humanity as a whole. Some point their fingers at each other, blaming one another for the most mundane reason. Shit, they even get to the point of killing one another, never once questioning the reasons they do so. Life’s a damn struggle, a damn hard one. Even for one at the highest status of leisure, they have to think of a good reason to give a damn. Our ancestors went through the hardest struggles so that we, today, could be born. And all of us do the same thing so that five thousand years from now, when people talk about us, they will say, ‘They went through Hell in an attempt to have us in Heaven.’ I don’t know if that will become true, or if they’ll simply read about us, and end up calling us idiots. All I know is that I struggle every fucking day to give a damn. The people that I have to share the world with — my coworkers, neighbors, family, those on the rest of planet Earth — all make it so goddamn difficult. (rubs both hands over his face) But you know what, you don’t make life better by telling yourself to think outside the box. You admit to yourself the truth, that there is no box, because it honestly is in your imagination (taps side of his head with finger) it’s all like a dream that after waking up you still believe is happening. People say, ‘Think outside the box,’ ‘I’ll pray for you,’ or ‘Good luck,’ or even fucking ‘Break a leg,’ because they ignore the struggle to escape the pain. Those beliefs and those sayings are like heroin for the brain. We can’t ignore the struggle like that, because in doing so we don’t learn to be better. Our ancestors learned to be better. That is why we are here with all this technology at our fingertips, making the struggle of life easier, and at the same time more entertaining — which is fucking disgusting and despicable, by the way. We forget to become better. And that’s the point I wanted to make clear — if I have, that is. I’m getting angry, so I’m gonna go now. Keep watching. Keep listening. And see you later.”
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