Dr. Paine, moved the chair out of Seymour’s way, though didn’t bother looking in his direction. Yuna leaned forward and in a few people’s way to get a better look as to why.
It wasn’t until he was facing her and everyone else in the courtroom—not to mention the cameras—that she got a clear view of why: his hands were cuffed.
Yuna leaned back into her seat, but wondered how much of a fight Seymour had gotten himself into if he needed a broken arm cuffed.
"Put your hand on the Bible and—here," the bailiff said, moving the book for Seymour. "Do you sear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing bit the truth?"
"To the best of my ability," Seymour answered.
Dr. Paine, who had had her head in her hand, let it slip and fall from her grasp and banged her forehead on the desk without a word.
"You chose to plead guilty?" Isaruu asked.
"Is that a question?" Seymour asked.
Now Donna put her hand to her face and shook her head.
‘He hasn’t grabbed a broom’ Yuna told herself mentally.
"Why have you chosen to plead guilty?"
"Because I did indeed kill him."
"Why, though?"
"That I cannot admit."
"You do realize that you are under oath," Issaruu reminded Seymour.
"And you realize that I would rather face the penalty for lying under oath than risk the danger of telling about what I have done," Seymour said.
The judge banged her gavel once. Donna had her face in her hands and Dr. Paine’s was still on the desk. "If you do not answer the question directly, you shall be held in contempt," the judge warned.
Seymour shrugged. "My funeral."
The judge shook her head. "Fine. I can order you to spend the time between today and the next day of court in jail, if you wish."
"I find it far safer than to speak of the reasons why I did. I do, however, understand what I did and I do understand that such actions should not go unpunished. You’re in charge, make whatever decision you want."
"Fine then. Jail. From the end of this court proceeding until the next. I go easier on people without attitudes, Seymour," the judge said. "Does the defense wish to question the witness before the end of the proceedings?"
"Just one: the other questions can wait for another day," Donna said, not showing her frustration at how snarky Seymour had been to the other lawyer. "Can you describe what happened in all details you’re comfortable admitting?"
"He called me into the room and he started on about something about whether I’d been through his things, and then about whether I’d left the house. I hadn’t done either," he said. He was amazingly calm. Then again he’d been amazingly calm both before and after his ‘fight’ with Auron—just not during. "He… grabbed me by the shirt and I… um…I think I got mad."
"You can’t remember?"
Dr. Paine mumbled something and the stenographer asked her to repeat it.
"I’m not on the witness stand, who gives a…um…sorry," Dr. Paine said.
"Would you please tell the court what you said, minus the bad language?" Yunalesca asked.
"I said he has a few lapses in his memory. He’s been on a strict prescription of drugs even before I could do any sort of assessment, even a vague one. He was suffering from Malnutrition and severe depression. Plus his emotional troubles go beyond just anger."
"But is he in the right state of mind to give testimony in court?" the judge asked.
"Give testimony? Yes," Dr. Paine asked. "I have no idea if he’s in the right mind to make the proper decision about his plea."
"Continue, please," the judge ordered."
"I got mad… no… I wasn’t mad. I was scared…" Seymour started again. "And I just…I’m not sure. I remember the chair…but it was as if I couldn’t control myself. It took a while to stop, it was like it wasn’t my body, not me controlling anything. I finally got control and… and I couldn’t stand anymore. There was blood… all over the chair and… and he looked kinda like my mother after she had shot herself. I got it all over myself, and then… I remembered people who kill are punished." Now something was starting to show in his voice again. He wasn’t just speaking in a smooth cocky voice. He had difficulty getting words out. He seemed to be trying very hard not to break down. With him, who knows what would have happened if he did? "And I didn’t care what would happen as long as… as long as I… I can’t say it. Not this time. I just called the police, but I didn’t manage to say much. I was crying. I was crying again, when I shouldn’t have been. I tried to stop, but I just managed to start vomiting. Then… the police were in the house. I told them what I’d done, but nothing else. I thought…I htought they’d do something to me… but I can’t tell you what."
"Why not?" The judge asked.
"My father promised it would happen again if I ever told anyone."
"But he’s dead."
"He had allies. And I never did."