Authors: Danielle Allen
“Where are the witnesses?” I asked looking around the
room I had already scanned three times.
“To my knowledge, they will be ushered in and then out one at a time when they are called on to speak.”
“Why is this room so big? And aren’t you supposed to be at the other table?” I kept fidgeting and the questions kept coming.
“I’m sure Cole’s lawyer arranged to be in this room. And I’m not at that table because this isn’t a typical court case. I’m here
as the family lawyer in an advisory capacity. This whole hearing isn’t focused on if Cole is guilty—he was already found guilty. This is about the remainder of his punishment. Just take a deep breath and read over your notes we wrote when I was in Richland.”
I took
a deep breath and opened my handbag, pulling out the neatly typed statement I wrote.
I’m going to need something to calm me. Something to focus on that will keep me steady through my part. I can’t look at any of the Mills family because I will likely break down and cry. Maybe I could look at someone else,
I thought as I scanned the room yet again.
The tallest of the four people in the front of the room, took his seat on the judge’s bench. He had tanned skin and his
auburn hair was streaked with grey. His eyes looked dull and his face looked bored. He cleared his throat, prompting the three other hearing board members to quickly wrap up their conversation and head into the jury box. They filed in one at a time and that’s when I really noticed her.
She was the only woman on the panel and
with her back to me earlier, I didn’t notice that she had one of those infectious smiles. If the circumstances were different, she would’ve even been able to pull a smile out of me. She looked easy-going and happy even though she was clearly working and had the weight of deciding the way the tide will turn for Cole’s life.
I watched her and felt a small pang of envy at how easy it was for her to just be.
She seemed very collected and I found so much beauty in her peace. Her dark brown skin seemed to sparkle in the sunlight and her eyes crinkled as she laughed. Her hair was shoulder length and hung in layers framing her face. She wore a stylish pantsuit and minimal jewelry. I instantly took a liking to her and decided she would be who I focused on when it was my turn. My thoughts were interrupted by Hearing Examiner Joel Renzo introducing himself to the court and explained the procedure of the hearing to those of us in the gallery.
“We are here today to
determine whether Chris Cole should be released from prison to parole supervision in the community for the remainder of his sentence. As the Hearing Examiner and representative of the United States Parole Commission, I will be conducting this hearing. The decision on whether Chris Cole should be granted parole is made as a team by my colleagues after reviewing the hearing record created by me,” Joel Renzo commanded in a matter-of-fact tone.
He continued, “It is our duty t
o maintain a high performing parole hearing system that protects Georgia's communities and is fair to all adult offenders as well as the affected victims. Please be mindful that everyone who will be called on to speak will have the opportunity to do so without interruption. No questions will be fielded from Mr. Cole, his lawyer or his case manager. Counselors, you are able to approach the bench with your client if you so choose. Without further ado, we will begin.”
Chapter 26
“…and I still have complications with my legs. The pain that shoots through my body is unbearable and the doctors can’t pinpoint the problem. I’ve managed to rebuild my life through my support system, my beautiful family, my therapist, my physical therapist. The list goes on. The physical pain is heavy and it cuts deep, but it has nothing on the emotional pain and distress that was caused. So no, I don’t feel as though Chris Cole should be able to walk away from this situation with his minimum sentence served when I’ve had to live with the consequences of his actions for the last ten years,” Emily declared in a voice that was coated in strength. “Thank you.”
Emily’s
voice was so sure and so confident and if I didn’t see the tears running down her face, I wouldn’t have known she was crying. She was so poised as she sat on the witness stand. I don’t know if I’d ever be more proud of her as I was in that moment.
“You need any additional statements from Ms. Mills at this time?” Joel Renzo queried.
The parole board looked at one another and shook their heads.
“Ms. Mills, you may be seated. Thank you.”
She walked back to our bench and sat between me and Emanuel. Her hand linked with mine and I squeezed tightly.
“I’m so proud of you Em,” I told her as I leaned my shoulder into hers.
“I’m so glad you’re here Sahara. I needed you. I needed my best friend,” Emily wept softly, removing her hand from mine to cover her face. She wiped at her eyes and then hugged me so tightly, I could barely breathe. Shutting my eyes to prevent myself from losing it, I squeezed her right back. I opened my eyes and
found myself staring directly into the eyes of Emanuel. My voice faltered.
“I’m glad I’m
here too,” I confessed as Emanuel pierced my soul and heart with just a look. Emily released me and sat back to look at me, blocking my view of Emanuel and his penetrating gaze. “I need you too Em. You’re my best friend and I’m going to start acting—”
“Emanuel Mills, please come to the witness stand,”
the Hearing Examiner, Joel Renzo said, his voice projected.
Mr.
McMannus stood and waited for a cue from Emanuel. Emanuel stood and gave him a short shake of the head before he confidently walked to the front of the courtroom. Mr. McMannus sat down and gave me and Emily a proud smile. Emanuel’s athletic body moved smoothly to the witness stand. Mr. Renzo gave Emanuel an overview of what he was to tell the parole board. Emanuel looked focused and exceptionally handsome as he listened to the instructions given. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. When Mr. Renzo gave him the go-ahead to begin, Emanuel’s eyes found mine and he smiled a small smile.
“
My name is Emanuel Mills and I’m here as a victim,” Emanuel began. Looking at the panel, he continued, “On the night of May 2, 2013, I studied for my Information Technology Seminar final and then got in the bed. I received a call around 2 a.m. from Sahara Lee and Emily Mills asking to be picked up from a party. They were unable to drive so I threw on some clothes and went to pick them up from the Beta Tau Beta fraternity house. They were in the backseat of my SUV and I drove them to the dorm for freshman and sophomore girls at Delta Southern. I stopped at the stop sign right before the street to the dorm. I was at a complete stop and I didn’t notice the headlights quickly approaching until it was too late. Chris Cole’s car slammed into us, causing us to be sandwiched between his car and the police car that was rushing to the scene of an unrelated crime. I was in a coma for a month. I suffered from a traumatic brain injury—bleeding and swelling. I broke bones. I had to go through physical therapy. I had to see a therapist for post-traumatic stress and a few other emotional wounds.”
He looked at me and I knew he meant me.
I was at least one of the emotional wounds,
I thought, both heartbroken and still awed that he loved me. The look he gave me went up my spin causing me to shiver slightly.
“I had a chance to play professional basketball in Italy that I had to give up because of the injuries sustained by Chris Cole’s decision to drive drunk. I graduated with my degree a semester later than anticipated
, but I didn’t walk across the stage with my classmates because of Chris Cole’s decision to drive drunk. I lost a piece of myself because of Chris Cole’s decision to drive drunk.”
Emanuel paus
ed and looked out in the gallery at us before returning his focused glare at Chris and his team of people. “Chris Cole driving drunk took a lot from me. I suffered in that moment and for the last ten years of my life because of his actions. His decision to get behind the wheel after a night of drinking tore my family apart, killing a vital member and breaking the rest of us. His decision ruined any chance of me reaching some of my dreams. His decision broke me in a way that I’ve never recovered from.”
“Chris Cole
ruined the vision I had for myself and my life. No one but Chris Cole.” He looked at me as he finished his statement, making sure I understood what he meant.
No one but Chris Cole,
I repeated silently.
“He shouldn’t be released early. He was found guilty because he is guilty and he should serve the duration of his sentence. Thank you,” Emanuel emphatically emphasized as he leaned into the microphone. His face hardened as he sat back and waited. The parole board didn’t have any additional questions for him so he was free to leave the
witness stand.
His mother
reached out for his hand as he made his way to the bench. He leaned down to kiss her head and pat his father on his shoulder before making his way to our bench in the back of the gallery.
“That was great Manny,” Emily insisted in a hushed tone, standing to give her big brother a hug.
“It was the truth,” Emanuel replied solemnly. He glanced over at me and I stood up, holding his gaze. Emanuel let go of Emily and she looked over her shoulder at me. With a smile playing at her lips, she sat down.
Emanuel put his forehead against mine and grabbed my neck with his thumbs resting on my cheeks. My breath hitched and a solitary tear rolled down my
cheek. He wiped it and leaned in close and his words caressed my lips as he whispered, “You can do this.”
I nodded in response and he hesitated for a moment before he released me. I sank into my seat, feeling tingly from Emanuel’s touch and nervous about speaking. Emanuel sat down on the other side of Emily. Emily grabbed our hands and squeezed.
“Sahara Lee, you may now come to the witness stand,” Joel Renzo called out from the judge’s seat.
I looked at Mr.
McMannus and he raised his eyebrows as if to ask if I wanted him to accompany me. I nodded.
Mr.
McMannus held my elbow as we made our way toward the front of the courtroom. Before letting go of me, he muttered, “I’m proud of you for doing this.” I looked back at him with wide eyes. He gave me a smile and a brief, yet encouraging nod. While Chris Cole sat at the defendant table with his team, Robert McMannus sat at the plaintiff table. I walked up to the witness stand alone.
“Hi Ms. Lee… I see here on my notes from the judge that you weren’t on the list of witnesses for the trial,” Joel Renzo noted.
“No, I wasn’t,” I responded guiltily.
Because I couldn’t handle it,
I silently added.
Joel Renzo reiterated the instructions that he went over for Emily and Emanuel. I listened attentively and snuck glances around the room. Emily and Emanuel sat in the back of the gall
ery looking with matching expressions. Their encouragement made my heart swell. I looked at Mr. and Mrs. Mills and they dabbed their eyes. I quickly looked away, afraid their emotions would trigger my own. I zoomed in on the parole board and I gave a small smile when the woman flashed her toothpaste ad worthy smile. Mr. Renzo gave me the go-ahead to begin.
“My name is Sahara Lee and I
’m here as a victim,” I announced a little louder than I intended. Taking a deep breath, I refocused myself and began reciting my prepared statement.
“
Chris Cole doesn’t deserve to be set free because I haven’t been set free. I spent the last ten years of my life in an isolated hell because Chris Cole ruined my life. My best friend, Emily, and I went to a party and had too much to drink. We called Emanuel who was our designated driver for the night to pick us up. Emanuel arrived and he safely got us to the stop sign before the dorm. Chris Cole drunkenly slammed his truck into the back of the SUV forcing us into the intersection and into oncoming traffic. My father was a campus police officer who was responding to a call. My father—Malcolm Lee—was killed instantly as Chris Cole’s truck forced Emanuel’s SUV into the intersection, in front of the squad car. My dad was killed because of Chris Cole’s actions.”
I inhaled deeply and held it for a second before letting it out slowly. My heart hurt
remembering and recounting the details of the night of my father’s death. But I had practiced the words I wrote with Mr. McMannus. I studied them. I memorized the words that concisely summed up the night that was the reason for my nightmares. I looked at Mr. McMannus and he nodded for me to continue. I nodded back.
“I moved away soon after the funeral. I ran away. It was too hard for me to be here. My father was the last surviving member of my immediate family and
without him, I was lost. I was alone. I was broken.” My eyes watered as I whispered, “I’m still broken.”
Swallowing hard, I looked upward and said a silent prayer before continuing
, “Outside of my father, my family is the Mills family.” I looked over at them in the gallery. “Mr. and Mrs. Mills were always like second parents to me. They went to college with my parents. They were all best friends. And even though they were my surrogate parents, when I saw them in the hospital crying over their children, scared of the medical outcome of the car crash Chris Cole caused, I felt like it would be selfish of me to try to rely on them to get me through the loss of my father.” I looked at Mr. and Mrs. Mills and they were visibly upset. Mr. Mills face was patting at his left eye while Mrs. Mills wept openly.
“
My best friend, Emily…” I looked at her and she smiled through her tears. “My best friend Emily lay in the hospital bed looking shattered and weak. When I visited her hospital room…and saw the tubes in her…and the pain she was in…and knowing her inability to walk, it hurt. It hurt me to see her so hurt. She was pretty much broken from the waist down and before then, she was always dancing and running and jumping. And if Chris Cole wouldn’t have run into the back of us, she would still be able to dance and run and jump.” I shifted my eyes from Emily to Emanuel whose face looked hard and stoic. But his eyes glistened.
“Emanuel…” I let his nam
e linger on my lips as my eyes lingered on him. I continued, “Emanuel had an exam the next morning and woke up anyway to make sure Em and I made it safely to our dorm. He was so sweet and so thoughtful to do it. Even though he didn’t have to, he always looked out for us. Seeing him lying in the hospital bed with his head wrapped in gauze, tubes running through his mouth and arms, wires connecting to beeping machines, his leg and arm broken…” I shook my head. “It killed me. Emanuel was and still is so strong and to see him in the hospital bed looking almost fragile… not knowing if he was going to make it… not knowing if he was going to wake up.” I paused and closed my eyes as I remembered the way he looked, the way his parents looked, the way Emily looked. “I just couldn’t deal.”
“It was my idea to go to the party and even though I didn’t put the drink in Chris Cole’s hand, I still blamed myself
. If I didn’t want to go to the party, Emily wouldn’t have been there. If we didn’t get drunk, we wouldn’t have needed Emanuel to come pick us up. If we would’ve called Emanuel sooner, maybe we wouldn’t have been at the intersection at the time my dad was responding to the call. But ultimately, I felt like it kept coming back to me—they wouldn’t have been at the party if I didn’t want to go. I blamed myself and let the guilt eat away at me. And I didn’t have anyone to put it into perspective for me because my support system was either buried, in the hospital recovering or grieving for their children. So I ran away and took the guilt and blame with me. For ten years, I blamed myself for what Chris Cole did. I closed myself off from the people who love me because I blamed myself for what Chris did. I blamed myself for what I had gone though, what we had all gone through, what we had all lost. I told myself that I was the one who wanted to go to the party so it was my fault,” I said, the last couple of sentences came out so low that if the microphone wasn’t on, I was sure no one would’ve heard me.
I gathered myself enough to look at Chris Cole. “Chris Cole crashing into us set in motion a series of events that I’ve never overcome. In one drunken decision, he stole my father. He stole my family. He stole my best friend. He stole my first love. He stole my sense of security. He stole the last ten years of my life. He shouldn’t
be released early because the damage of what he’s done vibrates through more than just what happened on May 2, 2003. He left a trail of broken people in his wake. He stole my freedom so he shouldn’t be rewarded with his. Thank you,’ I concluded, wiping a tear that had been resting in the corner of my eye the entire time.