May it please the court, I'd like to explain the incident in my own words.
I'm sure your honor, and members of the jury, you've all fallen in love. Or, at least, I hope you've had such a pleasure, because it will make you understand my motives all the more.
Certainly, if you haven't fallen in love, at least you can appreciate the idea of love at first sight. I'm sure all of us have been sitting somewhere, perhaps a bar, perhaps a coffeeshop, and we see a person walk in and our heart just stops. We just think "If I could spend the rest of my life with that person, I will be happy"
Well, this is what happened between me and Veronica. The prosecutor still likes to call her "The Victim" but to me, she'll always be Veronica. She was more than just a corpse to me. Probably because she was alive at the time. But still, she was, and always will be, my love. Only now, not in a physical sense, because that would be wrong and sick, and also, her family has not allowed me to view the body.
Regardless, it was love at first sight when I saw Veronica coming off of that school bus that day. I would like to remind the Judge, and the members of the Jury, that on that day she was 16 and a half, and that almost every one of the character witnesses that the prosecution has brought up has remarked about how "bright" and "mature" she was. Also, there has been no conclusive proof offered into evidence that Veronica and I had a sexual relationship at all.
So, coming off of her school bus that day, she was a vision. I would like your honor, and the esteemed members of the jury, to imagine that day. Her hair spilling across her shoulders and backpack, her braces glinting in the sun, I was floored when I saw her. I was mowing the lawn of The Olsens, a family who lived near the bus stop. They can account to the fact that I was so in awe of Veronica that I errantly ran the mower over a plastic shovel and pail set, a chunk of which shot out of the mower and broke, the large picture window of their house and severely injured their family pet a small annoying yappy poodle who gets along very well with three legs these days. This matter, I may add as an aside, has been resolved in civil court.
Well, in the ensuing panic, Veronica traveled back to her home. I had missed my chance, and so the next day I traveled back to the same neighborhood and mowed the lawn of a neighbor, so that I might be there for the afternoon bus. But the owner of that house didn't take kindly to a stranger suddenly mowing his lawn, and words were exchanged. My rates, by the way, are very reasonable and I frankly don't see why the owner was so upset.
So, without cover, I loitered by the mail box waiting for the stunning beauty I had seen the day before exit from the school bus. Soon enough, the bus came along, and I began to panic. What excuse did I have to be standing here? So, I put my hand deep into the mailbox, hoping to appear to be a postal worker collecting letters.
Well, I'm not sure how many members of the Jury have ever stuck their hands in a mailbox. I'm assuming none, by the looks on your faces, so I shall explain it to you. They are designed to let letters in, but not out. The same, apparently, goes for hands. It was several hours before the police arrived, and then the fire department, the local postalmaster, and finally a spot weilder with a torch, who finally freed me. By that time, of course, Veronica had long since gone home.
I was determined to see the object of my affections, and so I decided to camp out near the bus stop. I ran home only long enough to grab a blanket and stuff it in a backpack, and returned to the scene where I lay under a bush to avoid the local homeowners, who at this point had formed a neighborhood watch to look for me. I see this as a simple example of the classism, by the way, that has plagued me every step of my encounter.
Thanks to some adult beverages which I had obtained the night before, I managed to sleep most of the night and on through the next day, so I was still in my slumber when Veronica came off of the bus the next day. Seeing her coming off of the bus with her friends sent my heart thumping. I leapt from my place in the bushes, my blanket trailing behind me, to stand in front of her.
"Hello!" I cried, perhaps a little too excitedly.
"Um… hi?" She said. She was a bright girl - wary of strangers. Which is very smart - there are some strange folks out there.
"What's your name?" I asked. At this point, I did not know, but I had a strong hunch her name was "Judith"
"Veronica" she said. My hunch, apparently, was wrong. After a prolonged silence in which I searched for something to say, she asked "Um, why do you have that blanket?"
I will remindthe court again of the love-at-first-sight feeling. I ask the jourors to think of the stupidest thing they've ever done in the name of love. None of us are innocent of saying silly things, acting dumb, playing the fool occasionally. We all jump through hoops to impress the people we're attracted to.
And, so, yes, I did lie to her. I couldn't tell Veronica that I had waited in the bushes just to meet her - that would seems nuts! I had to appear normal, sane… or even better, exciting! Dangerous! I had to intruige her. So that, your honor and members of the jury, is why I told her my blanket was a parachute.
So I told her that I was a parachutist, that I was a world famous parachoutist, and that I knit parachutes out of yarn. It was all I could think of, to impress her. I would like to remind the court that the prosecutors have pointed out that I have only a 7th grade education, and that Veronica was only 7 months away from graduation. If anybody should have seen the flaws of a yarn parachute, surely it would be her.
And I would also like to remind the court that nobody forced Veronica out of the plane a week later. The pilot has already attested that she jumped of her own accord. And it wasn't as if I wanted her parachute to fail - remember, this is the girl I loved. I worked very hard making my blanket and backpack into a parachute, and I sincerely hoped it would work. If Veronica had and doubts, she certainly didn't show them - jumping gleefully into the wind with a joyful shriek that I will always remember.
So, am I guilty of giving a 17 year old girl a parachute made out of a backpack, some twine, and a dirty blanket? Yes, I'll admit to that. Who among us hasn't done that, or something similar, at some time in their lives? But did I kill Veronica? No. It was the ground which did that, and since the ground cannot be tried in a court of law - yet - the prosecution has decided to go after me.
By the way - I think the prosecution should be called the persecution. I just thought of that.
Veronica was a bright, trusting, and before the impact, beautiful young girl. Let us not sully her memory by pointing fingers. Let us instead, lay the blame where it belongs. On the fates, on destiny, and on the wind. Also, her parents. Thank you.