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“HE SH.OT ME AT MY OWN MEDAL CEREMONY—THEN STILL CLAIMED I WAS ‘UNSTABLE.’” / Chapter 7 / 10

Chapter 7 - The Arraignment

The federal courthouse in downtown Charleston was an imposing fortress of gray stone. Cameras flashed aggressively as Diaz wheeled me up the ramp, but ten yards before the heavy brass doors, I told him to lock the brakes.

"Help me up," I said.

"Julian, you’ve got nothing to prove," Diaz muttered.

"Help me up, Marcus."

Diaz sighed, then braced my left arm. I took a deep breath, shifted my weight onto my left leg, and forced my right boot onto the granite. I adjusted my service coat, smoothed the lapels, and took the aluminum cane Diaz handed me. I walked through the double doors under my own power.

The gallery was packed. Arthur’s lawyer was already at the defense table, shuffling papers. When the side door opened and the marshals brought Arthur in, the room fell dead quiet.

He was wearing an orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed to a chain around his waist. He looked older without his tailored church clothes, his posture hunched, his silver hair unwashed. But when he turned and saw me standing in the second row of the gallery, his face tightened into a sneer of pure, venomous arrogance.

He leaned toward his lawyer and whispered something loud enough for the first three rows to hear: "Look at the cripple. Still playing soldier."

The judge, an imposing Black woman named Judge Evelyn Carter, slammed her gavel down with the force of a thunderclap.

"Mr. Pendelton, one more word out of your mouth before this proceeding officially begins, and I will hold you in contempt and have you gagged for the remainder of this hearing. Sit down."

Arthur blinked, surprised by the swift rebuke, but he took his seat, his eyes never leaving mine.

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***

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