Incestuous Temptation Abounds
June 28th, 2027 -- Clinton "Clint" Elliston II
The last month had been rough. I'd seen my children only twice on supervised, half-hour visits. I had a joyless social worker watching me like a hawk afraid that I would do something with them. They weren't old enough to consent to do that stuff. They'd have to be eighteen and willing.
At least our children were staying with various family friends who'd avoided trouble so far. Not the Miharas, sadly, who lived on our street, but the Reenburgs had several, the Wilsons, the Youngs, and Stefani's parents. I didn't like splitting up our children, but it was the best we could do.
At least they weren't in the foster care system.
I sat on the jury table with my legal team, Pam, and Melody. The rest of our family weren't here. It was voir dire. Jury selection. The panel was assembled and while Judge Coburn asked them questions to get a feel for their attitudes and to weed out any potential conflicts of interest, we were putting together our opinion of them as fast as possible.
The same thing was happening over at the prosecutor's table. Cruzita was there with the lead prosecutor, Ed Thomas. The most experienced member of the Yolo County District Attorney's office. A sharp man that wanted me buried so he could win the seat. He had ambition. From being DA, he'd go for the Attorney General of California, then push himself up into the national spotlight.
But he had poisoned words being whispered into his mouth.
My lead attorney, Elisabet Reenburg, already had it worked out with Cruzita. Text messages sent to her phone. Cruzita would just glance at her phone from time to time and know who to ditch and who to keep. It wasn't perfect, she didn't make the decisions, but it was better than nothing.
"I don't like number 17," I muttered, glancing at the Black woman who kept glaring daggers at me. She clearly hated me. Believed the rumors about me. I could feel her wanting to drive her thoughts into my mind.
"Yes, her animus is on full display," Pam said. "We don't want someone with such masculine energy on the panel with that level of outward manifestation. Now 12 is a father. I can see the conflict on him."
"Yeah?" I asked, glancing at 12. He was a tall man, fit and buff, with a goatee of black hair surrounding his serious mouth. "Conflicted is good. Probably has a daughter."
"Mmm, perfect," Melody said.
Elisabet nodded. All our legal team was onboard with incest. We had a battalion of lawyers, many from the law practice where Melody worked. She'd recruited them over the years. They all had enjoyed the same forbidden fruits, motivated to get us off.
"21 is another good one," said Pam. "A mother, but she has guilt written all over her. And 35 is perfect. He looks excited to be here."
"We're not getting 35 unless there are a lot struck," said Melody.
I nodded my agreement. The jurors would go in numerical number. The judge had only dismissed two from the pool, and they were in the back end. We hadn't given him any instructions for today other than to not interfere in our choices. We couldn't afford it to look like he was tainting the jury pool in the eyes of a prosecutor.
"9, 10, 13 and... 3 are the ones we need to get rid of," Pam said. She shifted their note cards around on the table. "I don't like them at all."
I nodded. We had five strikes, challenges to their membership on the jury. We didn't have to give cause at all why we wanted them dismissed. The prosecutor had the same amount. If we're lucky, we could get the DA to dismiss some of our big threats for us.
Elisabet casually tapped her phone on the table, hidden among all the note cards.
At the other table, Cruzita glanced at her phone and then swiped away the message. She had the most difficult job of all, but she was on board now, too. She was committed to incest, to enjoying her daughter as much as possible.
"Okay, Mrs. Reenburg," the judge said. "Who does the defense want to strike first?"
"Your honor, jurors 5, 9, and 10," she said with a ringing voice.
* * *
Cruzita MartΓnez
"I want 2, 12, and 8 gone," Ed said.
I swallowed. None of those were the ones that Clint wanted me to dismiss. Worse, one was a priority they wanted to keep. 12. The message, according to the code I'd memorized from Elisabet, was adamant that 17 had to be dismissed. "I don't think 12's a problem," I said. "17 is a much better person to strike."
"17?" asked Ed. He shot me a look in surprise. "Really? Did you see how she's glaring with anger at Clint."
"I don't trust that level of anger," I quickly said. "I mean, she's got passion. That could be disruptive. We want a cool and calm jury."
"No, we want passion. We want someone who craves justice as much as me. We're keeping 17." The firm tone in my voice made me sigh. Clint wouldn't be happy. He had to convince the entire jury panel to vote him not guilty. If he didn't, and even one person held out, it would be a hung jury. A few months from now, we'd be at this again.
"Then 6," I said. "I don't like 6. But 12 is going to be perfect. He has that look of a father."
"Good point. Fathers are what we want. We'll make him think of Clint preying on his children." An evil grin crossed Ed's lips.
I shuddered. Clint didn't prey on his children. I didn't prey on my daughter. It was mutual. Consensual and beautiful.
"Mr. Thomas, who'd you fine folks at the prosecutor's table like to dismiss?" Judge Coburn asked.
"2, 6, and 8," Ed answered in a ringing tone.
* * *
Pam Elliston
"I don't like 18," I whispered.
"And we need to strike 17," muttered Clint. "She's going to be on the panel now."
"Then let's strike her so we can get 21 in," Melody said. "I really like the look of her. She's a mother and old enough for her son to be full-grown."
"Yes, he's a man now," I said, studying the woman. She was blonde and busty, in her forties. She didn't dress well or put on makeup. She was suppressing her sexuality. "She's definitely struggling with something. An hour in my office, and I would have her admitting how she liked to spy on her son when he masturbated or fantasized about sucking his cock."
"That is definitely something we can work with," Melody said. My half-sister smiled at me.
I smiled back."
"Mrs. Reenburg, I assume you and your battalion of colleagues have come up with your next choices?" the judge asked, something mocking in his tone.
Clint's brow knitted tight. He leaned back in his chair, detecting the faint bitterness in the judge's voice. We'd put too much pressure on Judge Coburn to remind him to follow orders. The man resented it. That could bite us in the ass.